Zalvano spotted Naero making her way through the crowd, excused himself, and met her half way.
He signal-blinked twice, alerting her to be cautious in what she said aloud.
Behind them, Aunt Sleak and Lady Drianne compared numbers on some high-level deal.
Zalvano produced a jeweled trinket and offered it to her. Naero took it with pleasure and hugged him immediately, as she would a favorite uncle.
“Terrorist strike in minutes, set up by Triax Intel,” she told him. “The strike will fail. The real goal is to gun down you and Aunt Sleak, then spirit me and Jan away.”
“Why?”
“Not sure. They think we might have something they want.”
“How many?”
“A dozen or two.”
She pulled away from him. Both of them smiled, straightening their garments, checking their weapons.
“Where did you–?”
“Our old friend of the family,” Naero said.
“You trust him?”
“We’ll see in minute or two. We need to watch out for Aunt Sleak’s best interests.”
“Don’t worry. She can handle herself. Our people are closing in and the fleet’s on battle stations. We’ll fight our way out if they force us to.”
Naero looked around and spotted Gallan, Saemar, and several other Spacers placed strategically around the room. All appeared to be enjoying the party.
“I hope our friend doesn’t try anything with Jan,” Zalvano said. “This could be a ploy. I have three of our best fighters keeping a close eye on your brother.”
A Triaxian official rushed up to Lady Drianne almost at the same time. The Corps princess paled for a moment and then excused herself quickly from Aunt Sleak’s company.
She touched a few jewels on her comp band, then cupped one hand over the side of her head and listened intently to her ear loop.
Naero and Zalvano moved closer to Aunt Sleak.
Multiple small explosions, blasts of colored smoke, and lightning-like stun charges went off in the room all at once. People dropped. Startled guests cried out in several pockets.
With the general party chaos going on, everything was muffled.
At that exact moment, Drianne’s security teams converged on several individuals–some dressed as servants, others as guests. Many of them were already down.
“Death to the Corps. Death to Triax! Long live the People’s Army!” a few zealous voices rang out from several spots. Right before the shouters were stabbed, bludgeoned, or otherwise stunned into submission.
The incident fizzled out, over almost before it began, the remaining conspirators among the servants had quickly dropped through floor panels or were dragged off before the shocked onlookers could even panic.
Yet dozens of key security people had somehow been taken out as well, and not by the terrorists.
Many of the guests cheered the Corps security forces, and then promptly went back to whatever they were doing. The sheer mass of the crowd kept the security forces from closing in on the Spacers. Lady Drianne presented herself to her guests and the press on hand, appearing only slightly flustered.
“My friends. It appears that a handful of rebels, bent on anarchy, had some feeble plot against my life. Of course I’m used to that sort of thing in my position–but what a bother. I’m sorry that I must leave you now, my dear Sleak. But a number of important security matters require my attention at this time. You understand, I’m sure. Pleasure doing business with you again. I look forward to our next meeting. Do stay and enjoy Triax’s hospitality.” With that, she was gone, surrounded by a growing flurry of guards, aides, and advisors.
“My captain,” Zalvano said. “Let’s get the hell out of here. I’ll brief you once we’re well away.”
Aunt Sleak looked around her. “Agreed.” As they walked past the pleasure chamber, a cadre of armed guards carried out Lady Drianne’s Matayan Slayer.
He looked lucky to be alive, his face a mash of blood and pulped bone. His filmy eyes locked onto Naero, flushed with fear and pain. But upon seeing her, they came alive with hatred once more.
Naero blew him another kiss. The injured Matayan tried to rise, but dropped back, unconscious.
Janner tumbled into view, spilling out of a zero-G pleasure pod, Devi still clinging to him, half his clothes torn off.
“Hey guys, great party, eh? Some merchant told me to go look for you. Whose smart idea was it to send me an alert code when you knew I was busy?”
“Jan,” Aunt Sleak said. “Shut up, grow up, and acquire some brains...and class. Lose your little friend and come with us.”
Devi started laughing and shaking uncontrollably. “That was so funny, Jan. You should have seen your face.” The young girl was obviously maxed out of her mind on something. She could hardly stand.
“Oh, Jan,” she suddenly said, growing pale. “I think I straight blasted too much. I’m gonna–” She collapsed, convulsed on the floor, foaming at the mouth. A Triaxian naval officer threw his dress jacket over her and held her thrashing body down.
Jan stood by and watched, chuckling.
Aunt Sleak grabbed Jan by the arm and dragged him off. Janner still laughed. “Maybe I should help her up.”
“Leave her to her own people,” Zalvano said.
Aunt Sleak was so livid she couldn’t speak at first. Then she turned on him. “Blast? You’re doing blast just like your little lander friends? You know what that garbage does to your brain?”
“Easy,” Janner said. “She did it. Not me. I wouldn’t touch that crap. It made her fun to watch, though.”
They reached Aunt Sleak’s shuttle, their people were already armed and waiting uneasily for them to board.
Both Zalvano and Naero performed thorough scans. Nothing that wasn’t there before. No neutron detonator.
Had Baeven been wrong or had he gotten to it first? Something strange went down during the party, but Naero still wasn’t quite sure what.
Aunt Sleak secured the craft, launched, and demanded a full report.
For not knowing much, Naero did her best to comply.
14