onyx stare. “I went to his quarters,” she said slowly, as if weighing each word before allowing it past her lips, “to drop off some data that had come in about the new Terran envoy and his staff. When I hailed him and got no answer, I went into his room.” She squeezed her eyes tightly shut for a moment as if warding off a sight too horrible for human imagination to encompass. “I found him on the floor, the sheets of the bed rumpled. There was… Olivia, there was so much blood…”
Tears streaked her face all over again as a fresh torrent of hysteria swept her. Olivia shushed and comforted her as best she could, while her mind raced like a lake-rat caught in a box.
Trelawney had been alive only three hours earlier. Anyone else who had left the Aerie would most likely be clear. The navigational systems on Merrick’s ’car would clearly show where he had been and for how long, and the security surveillance in the docking area would show him and Olivia getting into the car and leaving. They were in the clear if Ling was right. But that raised another, more frightening question.
Who had killed the Ambassador? More importantly, who would take his place in the negotiations with Terra?
She felt her mouth tightening. There was no way this could have been a coincidence. Someone wanted the senior, most experienced interplanetary diplomat Dusk could muster out of the way. But what could have been so urgent about the negotiations that the killer decided the only way to sideline Trelawney effectively was to murder him?
Her stomach dropped even lower as she added up the facts over and over again. They all added up to a most unpleasant sum.
Someone in the DDC, or closely connected to or working with the DDC, had assassinated Ambassador Trelawney.
While Ling sobbed into her shoulder, Olivia’s mind raced. She played and replayed the scene in the DDC chambers earlier that day, trying to pinpoint the source of her sudden unease. Someone had said something that hinted this might happen during the explosion of fury that followed her pronouncement that Terra could only want to make magickstone a weapon, but she couldn’t quite tease it out from the firestorm of yelling and cursing that had surrounded it. Even if she could, it was equally likely that her recollection was faulty and she hadn’t really heard what she thought she had.
But then, she couldn’t be sure she’d heard anything at all. It was entirely possible she was working herself up over nothing.
She looked up as Merrick rushed back into the docking area. His usually cheerful face was frozen into an expression as grim as a newly minted corpse.
“Ling was right,” he snarled, running a hand through his hair in agitated anger. “The Ambassador is dead.”
* * *
Two hours later, the DDC reconvened for a… Olivia wasn’t entirely sure what to call it. It wasn’t properly a wake, although a distinct funereal pall coated the room like a coat of oil, muting the whispers and occasional sobs of the assembled diplomats. It couldn’t have been called a council of war, despite the angry faces that shone out here and there among the mourning and the confusion. It certainly wasn’t a celebration; not a single person recounted a humorous story about Trelawney or attempted to assay even the weakest joke.
Galacia City Security had blocked off the entire corridor leading to Trelawney’s quarters. No one was permitted in or out of the zone while the security officers cataloged the scene and interviewed anyone who might have seen or heard anything at all amiss. This effectively left about a tenth of the DDC temporarily homeless. Some speculated in hushed tones about where they were to sleep tonight, while others muttered angrily about the inconvenience. Still others considered the future pensively or wolfishly, wondering who would assume Trelawney’s leading spot on the DDC and how the diplomatic policies of Dusk might change as a consequence.
Drinks appeared,
Tears streaked her face all over again as a fresh torrent of hysteria swept her. Olivia shushed and comforted her as best she could, while her mind raced like a lake-rat caught in a box.
Trelawney had been alive only three hours earlier. Anyone else who had left the Aerie would most likely be clear. The navigational systems on Merrick’s ’car would clearly show where he had been and for how long, and the security surveillance in the docking area would show him and Olivia getting into the car and leaving. They were in the clear if Ling was right. But that raised another, more frightening question.
Who had killed the Ambassador? More importantly, who would take his place in the negotiations with Terra?
She felt her mouth tightening. There was no way this could have been a coincidence. Someone wanted the senior, most experienced interplanetary diplomat Dusk could muster out of the way. But what could have been so urgent about the negotiations that the killer decided the only way to sideline Trelawney effectively was to murder him?
Her stomach dropped even lower as she added up the facts over and over again. They all added up to a most unpleasant sum.
Someone in the DDC, or closely connected to or working with the DDC, had assassinated Ambassador Trelawney.
While Ling sobbed into her shoulder, Olivia’s mind raced. She played and replayed the scene in the DDC chambers earlier that day, trying to pinpoint the source of her sudden unease. Someone had said something that hinted this might happen during the explosion of fury that followed her pronouncement that Terra could only want to make magickstone a weapon, but she couldn’t quite tease it out from the firestorm of yelling and cursing that had surrounded it. Even if she could, it was equally likely that her recollection was faulty and she hadn’t really heard what she thought she had.
But then, she couldn’t be sure she’d heard anything at all. It was entirely possible she was working herself up over nothing.
She looked up as Merrick rushed back into the docking area. His usually cheerful face was frozen into an expression as grim as a newly minted corpse.
“Ling was right,” he snarled, running a hand through his hair in agitated anger. “The Ambassador is dead.”
* * *
Two hours later, the DDC reconvened for a… Olivia wasn’t entirely sure what to call it. It wasn’t properly a wake, although a distinct funereal pall coated the room like a coat of oil, muting the whispers and occasional sobs of the assembled diplomats. It couldn’t have been called a council of war, despite the angry faces that shone out here and there among the mourning and the confusion. It certainly wasn’t a celebration; not a single person recounted a humorous story about Trelawney or attempted to assay even the weakest joke.
Galacia City Security had blocked off the entire corridor leading to Trelawney’s quarters. No one was permitted in or out of the zone while the security officers cataloged the scene and interviewed anyone who might have seen or heard anything at all amiss. This effectively left about a tenth of the DDC temporarily homeless. Some speculated in hushed tones about where they were to sleep tonight, while others muttered angrily about the inconvenience. Still others considered the future pensively or wolfishly, wondering who would assume Trelawney’s leading spot on the DDC and how the diplomatic policies of Dusk might change as a consequence.
Drinks appeared,
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