At no point had Valentinian mentioned his previous itinerary, but he supposed that Madame Cleray’s schedule was public knowledge, if you were into that sort of thing, so people might know that they had come here directly from Dominion Prime.
And left just before news had emerged that the Dominator, the old Dominator, had been assassinated, suddenly and effectively.
Little was known publically about the upper echelons of the Solar Party and the capstone of the Dominion government himself. Valentinian supposed Qetesh Intelligence, or maybe Lei-Zu would have insights, but he was just a spacer.
So he played it as stupid as a sheep when the news exploded and every broadsheet on every table over breakfast had every dribble of news available that their sovereign lord and master was dead. Ignored the people around him when they chattered back and forth around him as breakfast was ending. And even more columns of talk were dedicated to handicapping the sudden entrants who might be admitted into the Tournament of Domination that would culminate in the next ruler.
All the news was at least two weeks out of date anyway, so nobody could do more than speculate. And Valentinian really didn’t want to take a guess at the timing that had him here.
Too much chance of truth serum in his future.
Especially now.
At least most of the information was held as a state secret. Timing wouldn’t tell anybody anything, especially since he could honestly say that the last person he talked to before he left Dominion Prime was one of the White Hats. And he would, if asked.
Anything to maintain stupid.
They were down on the surface of Aestrolathia today, having landed last night, probably about the same time that a courier dropped out of warp with the official news, once the government felt it needed to tell the population. The spies around here had probably learned just about as fast as Longshot Hypothesis had originally gotten here.
At least nobody had come to talk to him.
Valentinian was late to breakfast for the usual crowd. Right at the tail end, just before brunch people would have started to wander in. The starport where they had docked had indeed belonged to a cousin of Ahdramenites, more or less, but it was centrally located, close to the main transit hubs, and the rates were good enough.
Plus, the restaurant specialized in what they called a farmer breakfast, served all day. Heavy on carbs and meat, slathered over with gravy at the slightest excuse. Hiranur’s cooking was fantastic, but she was absolutely dedicated to keeping young girls svelte and healthy.
Sometimes a man needed drop-biscuits covered with sausage gravy and cheese, plus a couple liters of black coffee, to start his day.
Valentinian had let Dave sleep in, the planetary clock being offset some from the ship, but the man was up and walked in looking like he had just run fifteen kilometers and showered afterwards.
Valentinian considered hating him on general principles, but Dave was a good guy, as near as he could tell. Or a good enough actor to make up for it. And that was all that really mattered.
The big man sauntered over like he had been practicing his public walk. He might have. Most of the time, he looked like he was grimly headed up the hill to kick in the door and kill everyone in the tower. Today was rather mellow, so he hadn’t heard the news yet.
Valentinian waved a half-empty coffee mug at Dave as he continued to shovel over-easy eggs and cooked potatoes into his mouth. The news broadsheet could wait. There was nothing in there Valentinian hadn’t heard already.
Dave sat, glancing at the page. He stopped and blanched, turning white for a moment.
Valentinian put his coffee down momentarily and slid the paper across to the man, making eye contact with the waiter. The big man would want food and coffee to deal with the shock.
Or at least to have time to refine whatever cover story he was going to tell.
“And what can I get you to drink this morning?” the waiter asked solicitously as he walked up.
Dave had fallen silent when Valentinian looked over.
“He’ll need coffee, and a menu,” Valentinian offered.
“Right away.” And he was gone.
Valentinian was finished with his food about the time Dave finished reading the second page article that offered nothing more relevant than the best place to place bets on the various stages of the Tournament. A lot of money was going to change hands soon.
“Huh,” Dave even managed to sound convincing, in case any strangers happened to be listening in.
The joint was mostly empty right now, but the next crop of folks was just making their way across the landing field. The sun had only been up for about an hour, and nobody but ranchers got up early on Aestrolathia, apparently.
“Just glad we got out when we did,” Valentinian replied in a vague voice. “Apparently, they shut down all transit about four hours after we got clear of the station. Didn’t start clearing people for about three days. Last any news came in, nothing new about the assassin, or how he did it.”
Long pause from the big guy. Digesting. Re-calculating.
Ignorance would be no defense now, if Dave was that kind of killer. Valentinian and probably even Madame Cleray would be thrown into small, dark cells and left to sweat. Possibly just executed out of spite.
Hopefully, she was smart enough to realize that, and keep her own mouth shut. And not let her girls or staff talk to anybody outside the ship.
“So now what?” Dave asked innocently.
Valentinian shrugged.
“Unless you feel the need to race back to Dominion Prime, so that you can add your name to the list of people wanting to vie for ultimate power, I don’t see how anything changes,” Valentinian replied. “I have a charter contract with Madame Cleray. You’ve got an employment contract as first mate, unless you want to break it.”
He turned innocent eyes on Dave, daring the man to break character for long enough to come clean and get them all executed. Valentinian didn’t doubt for a moment what might happen.
And there was zilch he could do about it.
The waiter brought coffee. Topped Valentinian’s mug. Smiled expectantly.
“Get him the hungry-spacer special,” Valentinian said loud enough that Dave glanced at the menu in surprise. “Extra everything.”
“Coming up.”
Dave fell silent. Valentinian sipped freshly brewed coffee.
“That’s it?” Dave whispered.
“Yeah,” Valentinian blew out a heavy breath. “Don’t tell me anything at this point, unless it helps keep us out of reach of whoever might want to ask questions about who you were before. I’m assuming we need to look at the possibility of running like hell. What are our odds?”
Dave watched him like a hawk. Studying. Again, re-calculating as the scales wavered back and forth.
“What about Madame Cleray?” Dave asked.
Valentinian shrugged again.
“I doubt she was involved,” Valentinian offered. “Unless she was maneuvered into hiring me at the same time I was set up to need a first mate on Dominion Prime. There’s always that.”
Dave stiffened in such a way that Valentinian nearly threw his coffee in the man’s face, as a prelude to seeing if he could make it to the door of the café fast enough to escape the assassin’s reach.
“That would suggest an enormous conspiracy, just to kill the Dominator, wouldn’t it?” Dave murmured quietly.
“Probably,” Valentinian agreed. “And it still makes us all at least accomplices, even after the fact. The kind the new Dominator lines up against a wall and shoots, ya know?”
“Yeah, I do,” Dave said. “I’m old enough to remember some of the aftermath when the last guy took power. You weren’t even born yet. It got ugly for about a year, even though the former guy chose ritual suicide by triggering a new Tournament of Domination and then walking into the final battle and barely swinging his sword once. Lots of the old regime still had to be purged.”
“And how bad do you suppose those purges might be this time, with the extra anger of an assassination layered on top of that like lemon frosting?” Valentinian questioned.
“Depends on the winner,” Dave offered. “The Tournament won’t start for another couple of months, because there has to be an open period for people to make their way to Cronus Prime and list their names. Then the Tournament itself takes about six weeks to complete. Then they form a new government and spread the good word across the Dominion. Maybe even start a new war, just as an excuse to give the new Dominator a chance to shine.”
“You seem to know a lot about how this sort of thing works,” Valentinian’s voice wasn’t accusing, but wasn’t neutral either. Stark, perhaps.
“I had an…official capacity in the old Dominion,” Dave admitted evasively. “My timing for departure is about as bad as my luck in finding you was good when I decided I wanted out.”
It even sounded reasonable. Not that Valentinian figured it would keep him safe, but there wasn’t anything he could do at this point but ride the main chance and offer prayers and whatever sacrifices he could to interested gods that might help.
Or plot a course for the far side of either Laurentia or Qetesh and abandon Madame Cleray and her girls here for the joys of Wildspace.
For the briefest moment, Valentinian even saw vulnerability in Dave’s eyes. The kind that suggested the big man expected Valentinian to find the nearest White Hat and plead his case.
Except Valentinian already knew that his background would come up at that point, and they’d start digging. Hell, if Dave was honestly just fleeing from a bad marriage, Valentinian might spend more time in prison, if everything caught up with them.
Best not to find out.
“So we do nothing, say nothing,” Valentinian said definitively. “Pretend like we’re dumb spacers from the wrong side of the tracks and keep an eye out for people asking too many questions. I’ve already got a lifetime of experience at that sort of thing, so you’re going to get to learn on the fly.”
Dave looked like he wanted to argue, at least for a beat. Took a deep breath and marshalled his arguments for or against.
Thought better of it before he said something stupid and irrevocable.
Valentinian felt his own eyes go hard and cold. He was right back there in the Headmaster’s office, desperately trying to deflect the avalanche coming down the mountainside at him, as he was chosen to be the ritual sacrifice, lest the other three boys get publically shamed.
One of these days, he would owe those fuckers a ration of pain. Maybe he’d sick Dave on them.
That brought a cold smile to Valentinian’s face. Kind of matched the one on Dave’s.
“Us against the galaxy, Vee?” Dave asked hesitantly.
“Something like that,” Valentinian agreed. “You in?”
Dave stuck out his hand and Valentinian heard tumblers in a lock begin to fall into alignment.
“I’m in,” the big man said.
They shook.
Us against the galaxy.