FLETCHER

Facilities and communications security comprise most of Serengeti’s routine security-privilege functions. Ensuring that only those with authorization have access to Serengeti buildings and data is essential to successful commerce. Less common but a vital function are investigative services when there is suspicion of malfeasance within the cartel: theft, fraud, and the occasional assault. The final but often critical function utilizes stealth operatives to counter external attempts at commerce espionage. ~ excerpt from Serengeti Group Operations, Serengeti archives

Done with the movements of Mulan’s discipline, Fletcher launched himself at the heavy bag. He hated leaving Clarice after dinner the night gone, but in all honor, he could not spend another night away from Mercio House. Seigneur Marco expected Fletcher to provide updates on the tests, and it would be unpardonably rude to slight the hospitality he was offered. Nor had he missed Clyde’s masked demand for his return in the alert claiming one of his suits was missing. The suit in question had been shoved in a drawer and wrinkled beyond use. Fletcher’s anger would have been greater, but Clyde reported he was following rumors of black-commerce interest in the pairing devices. His caution was warranted, if frustrating.

After twenty minutes of assailing the bag with hands and feet, Fletcher was winded and flowing with sweat. He was also satisfied that he was gaining mastery over his alloy limbs. Less and less did they feel alien; the infinitesimal delay in reaction began to feel almost normal.

Seigneur Marco dismounted an auto-racer and tossed Fletcher a water vial. “Impressive display. If you continue to improve at that rate, Seigneur Thorvald’s restrictions will not remain much longer.”

“Thank you, Seigneur.” Fletcher took a long swallow of water. “If I may, about the saboteur?”

Marco’s eyes widened, but he nodded. “What would you know?”

“Who else is aware? I know Seigneur Trevelyan and his protégé are, and I assume Monsignor Lucius and Lilian. But what of the Nightingale? Does Nickolas know?”

Understanding filled Marco’s expression. “It would be difficult for you to keep the matter from Nickolas, but you need not. The Nightingale command crew are aware, along with Nickolas and the lead zoologist. That said, unless there is a need, it is better not to discuss the matter even within secured chambers.”

Clarice wished she had been able to enjoy more time with Fletcher. After dinner, he invited her for a stroll around the guesthouse grounds but could not stay. As a guest at Mercio House, he could not constantly spend his nights elsewhere.

She understood, but she also knew their time was limited and desired to spend as much time as possible exploring their developing connection. It went far beyond the physical, as wondrous as that was. She found herself eager to know his thoughts and reactions on all manner of topics. At least he had been able to share the success of the flight tests.

The way his eyes had shone at recall of piloting the flyer lifted her heart and made it ache. His passion for flight meant he would always be looking to the stars, seeking a way to fly among them. She was a creature of solid ground, feet firmly planted. Completely unsuited for an alliance with someone like Fletcher.

Her slate chimed and she realized she had been staring at her techno array for a quarter period while her mind strayed to Fletcher. Review of the associate assignments would need to wait. Seigneur Okoth was expecting her.

Setting down his slate, he asked, “Are the office arrangements satisfactory? Do you have any requirements She had been introduced to the stern Grey Spear warrior serving as Serengeti’s Fourth System Seigneur at the Nightingale’s flight. But that had been a social occasion, and this was commerce. The seigneur had a reputation for being demanding and would want to establish his expectations for legalistics. Before she discovered the questionable actions of the legalistics master, she was not concerned. Now, she was in a quandary. She did have enough evidence to share her concerns, but if he asked a question, she was honor-bound to answer honestly.

The seigneur’s commerce suite occupied a quarter of the eleventh level, the section overlooking the bay. Inside his office, the entire back wall was glass with a panoramic view of the bay, and the governor’s palace on the cliffs. Already seated at the conference table, Seigneur Okoth motioned her to join him. Square-jawed and blunt-featured, with dark blue eyes in a dusky complexion, his wiry brown hair was pulled back in a short queue. A robust man in his sixties, he had controlled Serengeti’s Fortuna operations for over a decade and would likely continue to for at least another.

Setting down his slate, he asked, “Are the office arrangements satisfactory? Do you have any requirements that have not been met?”

It was an unusual courtesy for him to ask, but she was too well trained to reveal her surprise. “Yes, Seigneur, thank you. Fortuna operations’ reputation for efficient and effective commerce is well deserved.”

“Monsignor Hercules was pleased to learn that you were quick to defend the cartel, and against those who defamed it and its seigneurs.”

The botanical gardens brawl. That explains the seigneur’s unusual courtesy. It also provided an opening to demonstrate that the termination of her liaison with Hercules had not altered her loyalty. “It is my honor to serve Serengeti. To hear any seigneur so maligned is unacceptable. When those I have been privileged to serve are defamed, it is a pleasure as well as my duty to exact retribution.”

The seigneur’s eyes glowed, and while he did not smile as such, his expression held approval. “Well said.”

He picked up his slate. “To the matters at hand.”

After that the discussion was brief, ensuring that Clarice was aware of the next day’s operational review and the expected schedule for assignment completion. There were no probing questions, or any questions about the legalistics staff. It was a relief, but also left Clarice without the answers she needed.

Exiting the seigneur’s office, she was pondering how to approach matters with the middle-aged associate, when she was hailed by a robust man in his seventies. His beak nose and sloping jaw were memorable. She had no difficulty recalling Grey Spear Master Associate Graham Tudorian. He was an ally and friend of Lilian’s from the time of the Bright Star formation. Clarice had met him briefly at the Nightingale’s flight and found him both skilled and sensible. With decades of service at Fortuna Headquarters, he could be font of information. When he agreed to join her for a midday meal, her spirits lifted.

Fletcher tapped the controls and accelerated the flyer to maximum, streaking past Ruin and heading for the first marker. Once there, control of velocity and route would be managed by the pairing devices that would guide the flyer to the marker placed on the far side of the system. Any failures or calibration issues would be addressed the next day and Fourth Day. Although Fletcher could not wish for failures or problems, he would welcome another two days at the pilot’s console.

The restaurant Master Graham suggested was well appointed, but understated, the clientele consisting of master associates, senior academics, and leaders of local commerce interests. Master Graham’s shrewd brown eyes settled on Mrs. Tasha, who was half-hidden in a shadow near the bar. It was unusual for any other than the seigneurs to require a personal guard.

Although none would challenge the presence of a militia guard, Clarice did not want the associate to leap to the conclusion that she was yet engaged with Monsignor Hercules. “Master Chrys was targeted by a prize hunter on his voyage to Genji. Seigneur Trevelyan fears that anyone of significant status within Bright Star security-privilege is a target.”

Graham’s eyes warmed, his thin lips forming a smile. “I thought the added militia for the other Crevasse City visitors was due to the technology they are testing. Apparently, there is more to it.”

“Master Graham, you are remarkably well-informed.”

He gave a small, self-deprecating shrug. “Seigneur Marco and his protégé arrive with the two technologists who fitted the Bright Star armada with navigational devices, and now Master Fletcher is piloting a flyer in random patterns throughout the system. It was an educated guess.”

“After four decades of Fortuna service, I imagine there is little you do not know about Fortuna operations.”

The shrewd brown eyes narrowed. “I will not pretend to be surprised. It is all but certain when a lovely young woman wishes an old man’s company, she has a purpose.”

“Mine is not dissimilar to Mistress Lilian’s when she wished to understand why mercium was going missing.”

Now he was surprised. “Mercium is missing?”

“Not that I am aware. I am more interested in why so many legalistics associates are abandoning Fortuna Headquarters. I am also curious about some odd commerce provisions I have found in a few contracts. From what Mistress Lilian voiced, there is no aspect of Fortuna commerce with which you are not familiar.”

His lips puckered. “You are worthy of our legalistics seigneur, Herman. That was the perfect blend of flattery and reassurance. Reminding me that aiding Lady Lilian when she was an apprentice elevated me to master associate, and that you are a confidante of our vistrite conservator.” He held up a finger. “A moment, our waiter approaches.”

Once their meal was served, they paused to sample the fare. Clarice was content to wait until the master associate was ready to speak. When half his plate was cleared, he took a sip of tea and then said, “Mistress Koralia is a bully who finds fault where there is none while taking credit for others’ work. No one with an alternative will remain under her authority. Personally, I prefer to deal with Master Milo. Most of our contracts are basic commerce and require no great skill.”

“I suspected as much.” Clarice toyed with a vegetable. “I am not certain I can do aught about Mistress Koralia’s treatment of her staff, but I will call the matter to Seigneur Herman’s attention. I am more concerned about these commerce provisions. Penalties for late deliveries or poor quality are common enough, but these are unusually high and, under Fortuna legalistics, allow the contract to be voided if the failure to deliver exceeds the set threshold. That they are for vistrite contracts is beyond unusual.”

Graham bristled. “No contract I approved holds such provisions.”

Clarice ceased to poke at the vegetable. “Neither that I reviewed are for Fort Rimon. They are in the other provinces.”

“Technically, provisions that invoke Fortuna specific protocols that allow the contract to be voided. But no one voids a vistrite supply contract—there are no other sources of supply. Major customers, such as Leonardo, can wrestle performance penalties from Serengeti, but these smaller organizations?” She shook her head. “It violates all commerce sense.”

“Something is amiss. How may I assist?”

“I need the aid of an archivist. Someone who will not reveal what I require or what is discovered.”

“I can assist with that. Aught else?”

“What do you know of the legalistics associate who left the cartel to create a successful device retail chain?”

“The one fronting for gray commerce?”

“Not unfounded gossip?”

“I have no proof, but I believe it. Do you think he is somehow involved in these contracts?”

“I have no notion, but as Mistress Lilian is fond of saying, two anomalies might be a coincidence, but three is a pattern.” She tapped the table. “One, questionable contracts in remote operations. Two, a master associate who drives out her juniors as they achieve sufficient competence for advancement. Competent enough to question these contracts. Three. Three, a former member of her staff involved in gray commerce.” She pushed aside her plate. “When may I meet your archivist?”

Fletcher adjusted the controls to accept the trajectory and velocity direction from the pairing devices. The steady vibrations from the propulsion systems eased, reflecting the reduction in velocity. Stroking the console, he turned the flyer until it aligned with the projected route. “Iron Hammer Alpha to Bright Star. Course received and plotted.”

Chrys’ voice came over communications. “Readings look good, no anomalies. We will do the next two course changes as scheduled.”

The flyer could make the voyage to the other side of the system in two periods, but the tests would take at least six, the convoluted route designed to confirm that the pairing devices would receive the changes in course and velocity and communicate to the navigator.

Clarice examined the archivists’ results. There was a score of anomalous contracts scattered across the planet. All created in the past three years. She did not require skill in advanced mathematics to calculate the impact if all the contracts became void at once. While individually, they were poor commerce, in total, they could disrupt Fortuna operations for a season. More interesting, none were with major commerce enterprises.

Curious, she selected the first contract and ran a search on the ownership and governance of the enterprise. Three layers later, ownership disappeared into the Hebrides. The day was advancing. If she did not review the legalistics associates’ assignments, it would raise questions. She also needed to examine what Zora produced about the anomalous contracts.

She started to send a request to the archivist and thought better of it. If what Clarice suspected was true, it would be better to involve Serengeti security-privilege. She reached for her slate to contact Rebecca before she remembered it would be well after commerce in Crevasse City. The Fortuna security-privilege master was dedicated to secure communications and facilities. He did not have the demeanor of a stealth operative. He undoubtedly had some on his staff, but she was not certain of the best means to approach the matter. It would not serve to alert Koralia to the investigation. Or Zora if she was as complicit as Clarice suspected.

In the end, Clarice sent Rebecca an alert. It might be the next day before Clarice received a response, but Rebecca would be able to direct Clarice to a local resource able to assist with what could be a dangerous intrigue.

If Fletcher kept to his course, the flyer would impact the molten surface of the systems’ first planet in less than a period. He ran through the sequence to validate the flyer was following the route from the pairing devices. “Fireballs!”

Chrys’ voice came through the communications channel. “What was that, Fletcher?”

“The pairing device did not alert the navigator to a course correction.”

“Dragon piss. That is the third time. Hold a moment.” Communications went quiet and Fletcher was left to review his course against the system map. He would need to change course in the next fifteen minutes or fly right into the molten surface of the Fourth System’s first planet.

Communications hissed and Seigneur Marco’s voice filled the flyer. “Bright Star to Iron Hammer Alpha, return to base. Chrys and Verity need to recalibrate the devices.”

“Acknowledged, returning to base.”

Fletcher reset his course and increased the flyer to maximum velocity. In moments the first planet was fading to a bright dot behind him. He was tempted to plot an acrobatic course that gave him a chance to fully exploit the flyer’s capabilities, but it would not serve. His duty was to get the flyer back to Chrys and Verity as soon as possible.

Clarice stepped out of her heels and loosened her hair. Her chamber in Serengeti House was fast becoming a refuge. Even though she had no cause to doubt the security-privilege seal on her office at Serengeti, the day’s revelations left her uneasy.

She glanced at her slate, hoping for something from Rebecca but finding naught. It would be dark of night in Crevasse City. If Rebecca had not seen the alert, it would be the next day before Clarice received directions.

Fletcher was not due for another period. The flyer tests did not go well. On the morrow, he would be returning to the construction fields as soon as it was light. His delight at being invited to spend the night, and the mere breaths between her alert and his response, dispelled some of the dark mood that had descended with the day’s discoveries.

She had promised to wait to have the evening meal together. Instead of using one of the Serengeti House restaurants, she would order a meal in her chamber. Fletcher was of Iron Hammer and had served in Seigneur Trevelyan’s stealth war. He might know who on Fortuna was a stealth operative.

Deciding that exercise would be of more benefit than constantly monitoring her slate for an alert that might not come, Clarice reached for her training garb.

Clyde laid Fletcher’s travel bag on the bed. “It is impossible to guard someone when they will not remain where they can be guarded.”

“Serengeti House is one of the most secure structures in Fort Rimon. Even the lord governor cannot enter without the proper credentials.”

“The governor would have no reason to try.”

Ignoring Clyde’s grumbling, Fletcher stepped into the freshening closet for his toiletries. Verity and Chrys believed they had corrected the issues with the pairing devices, but they would not know until Fletcher could test them. That meant an early return to the construction fields. After tossing what he needed into the bag, he returned to the bedchamber. “Serengeti House is almost a period closer to the LAT center.”

Clyde had disappeared, but he had finished with the travel bag. With the toiletries added, Fletcher sealed the bag. Setting it on the floor, he called through the open door to the servitor’s chamber. “Clyde, I am leaving.”

The man appeared carrying his own bag. “We are leaving. Mistress Clarice’s chamber comes with one for a servitor.”

“You cannot be serious.”

The man touched his slate satchel. “Seigneur Trevelyan is very serious. Mistress Clarice has stumbled onto some type of intrigue. The kind that disappears into the Hebrides.”

“Is that not where the source of the saboteur’s employment is located?”

Clyde added Fletcher’s bag to the ones he was carrying. “As you voice.”

“They cannot be related.”

“Cannot?” Clyde stood aside so Fletcher could precede him. “More like probably not, which is not the same as are not related. The seigneur wants that settled. Besides, even if they are not related, anything coming out of the Hebrides in this context has malfeasance stamped all over it.”

Fresh from the shower, Clarice tightened the belt on her robe and opened the door for Fletcher. “I ordered the meal you requested. It must have been quite a flight for you to be so famished—”

Mr. Clyde followed Fletcher into the chambers, the unexpected arrival halting her thoughts. “Fletcher?”

Fletcher secured the door before answering. “Mr. Clyde will be using the servitor’s chamber.”

The man in question set Fletcher’s bag on a small table, and another bag on the floor next to it.

Fletcher’s hand skimmed her lower back, guiding her to the sofa. “I am sorry for the surprise, but there was no purpose in alerting you.”

“I do not understand.”

“Mr. Clyde was sent by Seigneur Trevelyan. We understand you have need of a stealth operative.”

A stealth operative? Clarice grappled with the ramifications while the faux servitor turned to address her. “Crevasse City will investigate the ownership of the twenty enterprises you identified. As of a bell gone, six had been investigated and all six disappeared into the Hebrides. It will be another day before we have the information on all the enterprises.”

Malcon. Mr. Clyde reminded her of Malcon. Not so much in looks, although they cultivated a similar nondescript appearance. It was an air of wary watchfulness coupled with a sense of lethal grace. “Why does Fletcher need a guard of your caliber?”

Clyde blinked and Fletcher chuckled. “I warned you. Clarice is exceptionally observant and trained in stealth.”

Clyde shook his head. “My purpose with Fletcher is sealed to Seigneur Trevelyan. But, I am here, and this situation is irregular and ill-timed relative to other matters. I need to know how you identified this potential intrigue, who is involved, and what you suspect.”

Fletcher sipped sparkling water and listened as Clarice laid out her analysis and suspicions. After the surprise of Clyde’s arrival, she had pulled on a soft tunic and trousers, while Clyde and Fletcher dealt with travel bags. By the time they finished, the evening meal had arrived. Now, the remnants were pushed to a corner, Clarice and Clyde’s slates propped at their places.

“Master Graham was adamant that he would never approve such terms. I feared that while I had uncovered the issue with the two contracts that were in review, there would be others that had been approved.” Clarice’s voice roughened and she sipped water before continuing. “He provided a reliable archivist for the search. She extracted the most recent five years and found the other eighteen. None were any further back than three years ago. That first year there were three contracts, the next five, the year gone, seven, and five this year, plus the two in review that caught my attention.”

Clyde frowned at his slate. “That follows a common embezzlement pattern. Start with a little and become increasingly bold with success. Where are the records of penalty payments?”

Clarice gave a confused shake of her head. “That is part of the puzzle. There have not been any. But, when I totaled everything up, including the two that have not been approved, I found that if they were all invoked at once, the financial losses would be noticeable. Sufficient for censure but would not endanger the cartel.”

Curious, Fletcher rose to peer over her shoulder. “The controllers are standard; there are no custom designs, but a sudden cancelation of orders would cause some headaches. As with the financials, nothing severe, but cause for censure.”

She peered up at him. “How so? Would the inventory not be passed to another order?”

“Eventually, but it would not be automatic. Optimization models would be needed, delivery schedules altered.” He thought about how to better explain. “On a busy transitway, if someone slows suddenly or stops, it impacts the flow of all the other transports. That slowdown can take periods to clear if it occurs at peak times, less than a bell at low times.”

She gestured at the slate. “This is not at the same level as a collision.”

“Yes. That would require”—he gazed at the numbers—“an order of magnitude greater than this worst case.”

She glanced back at the slate. “Standard vistrite components. All these contracts are standard and within the threshold for regional review. Once approved by legalistics, no one in Fort Rimon would even be aware of them unless there was problem.”

Clyde made a questioning sound. “Who did approve these? How many confederates does Koralia have?”

Clarice’s eyes widened, and she turned back to her slate. “Mayhap one? What if the approvals are forgeries? Making it look like the contracts are scattered among a score of enterprises across the planet, but in fact there is a single customer?”

She turned back to Fletcher. “The controllers, are they standard for personal devices? Slates, entertainment consoles, and techno arrays?”

Fletcher scanned her summary. “Yes. Higher-end devices at that.”

“Gray commerce.”

“I do not understand all of it, but three years ago one of the legalistics associates left the cartel to start an enterprise that deals in personal devices. He has been highly successful with a dozen outlets scattered across the planet.” Excitement radiating from her, Clarice tapped her slate. “Without a techno array, I cannot access it all. But”—she frowned, tapped again—“Yes. One of this year’s contracts. The shipment was marked as overdue, and the penalties took the form of a steep discount.”

“Clever,” Clyde said. “Acquiring the vistrite at a fraction of the true cost but charging the market rate for the devices. The profit will be exceptional.”

“That does not explain the setup to invoke the Fortuna void protocol.” Clarice stared at her slate. “Without that, I would have noted the unusually high penalties, but I would not have felt so much urgency.”

Fletcher set his hands on the back of her chair. “Could it be a two-phase intrigue? Remember the Desperation scrubber fraud? The false contracts generated income, but the true purpose was to gather vistrite residue to create counterfeits.”

Clyde whistled. “A feint. If we found the contracts, it would be easy to penetrate the gray commerce, and we might halt there.”

Clarice rubbed her eyes. The bells were advancing, and the stress of the day was beginning to tell. Fletcher moved his hands to her shoulders. “Clarice grows weary, and I must rise with the dawn. What do we do about this?”

Clyde put aside his slate. “You, go pilot that flyer. Voice naught of this, even to Seigneur Marco.” He turned his gaze to Clarice. “You, go about your legalistics, but no further investigation. Master Graham and his archivist will be informed that this is sealed to Seigneur Trevelyan. Until we have pulled all threads and know what the secondary purpose is, we do not want to alert our quarry.”

Clarice shucked off her trousers and crawled into the bed in her tunic. Fletcher rolled toward her, propping up on one elbow. “This was not the romantic evening I planned.”

There was the romance word again. She was finding it less and less disturbing. She traced his jaw with her fingers. “Nor I. But I am glad you are here.”

He turned his face to kiss her fingers. “Are you weary?”

Frissons of pleasure spread from where his lips touched, the warmth of his form enveloping her. She leaned closer. “I am not that weary, but I do find the notion of Mr. Clyde in the next chamber rather strange.”

His lips curved, and one hand traced her hip, and then teased her bare thigh. “I guarantee, he can hear naught.” His lips brushed hers, “But we can try to be quiet.”

Her limbs were softening at his touch, other parts beginning to ache in the most delightful manner. She slid a hand into his hair to pull him closer and deepen the kiss.