She pushed the lab-pod to sit near the suite’s entrance—just in time for the porter-bot’s arrival with an a-grav platform. The platform lowered and the bot guided Nerishka’s precious cargo onto it, strapping it into place.
As soon as the pod was secured, Nerishka dismissed the bot and headed out the door. <Directions to the suite we will pretend to exit are now on your HUD.> Moving briskly Nerishka followed the route to a suite one level up. Traveling with the a-grav pad proved to be a little complicated as the corridors began to fill with disembarking passengers bearing their own luggage.
Nerishka received a good many glares and muttered complaints, which she ignored, making it all the way to the suite without incident.
Once inside, she asked Lyra, <How are we with the ship’s monitoring systems?>
<They will see someone entirely different on the feed.>
<Little old lady with a fluffy poodle?> asked Nerishka with a grin.
<Erm…no. They will see a man and his young son in our original suite. Our entrance to this suite in the last few minutes will be scrubbed from all records.> Lyra paused for a few seconds, then added, <Not from the memories of the organics you passed though. That I cannot do anything about.>
<Good thing I’m in disguise,> Nerishka muttered as she smoothed down the dark fabric of her grey pants. She lifted her hand and primped her blonde hair, then laughed and shook it out, lengthening the strands and returning it to its normal blue-streaked state.
To ensure she covered her tracks well, Nerishka spent a little time in front of the holo, bemoaning the fact that she didn’t have the kind of tech that would allow her to change her underlying features at will. Now wouldn’t that be something?
She changed into in a long-sleeved gray dress that touched the floor and considered her hair for a moment before shifting its color once more to dark black. The long strands framed her face—which she’d made up to appear hollow-cheeked and dark-eyed.
Anyone looking at Nerishka would likely feel a pull of sympathy at her emaciated frame. She appeared to be weighed down by something dark, like grief or persecution, or perhaps extreme poverty—an appearance that discouraged intrusion, and likely even any attention altogether.
Well, she thought, looking herself over once more. Good-bye Kiarra, hello Andrea.
SUBTERFUGE
STELLAR DATE: 10.12.8948 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Belshazzar, approaching Nimrud Station
REGION: Xerxes, Ayra System (Independent)
<Why did you choose that particular disguise?> Lyra asked Nerishka, her tone revealing her curiosity, and admittedly a little confusion.
She’d watched Nerishka prepare her disguise, the concentration on the agent’s face bordering on comical. Still, her attention to detail, her efforts to achieve exactly what she intended, was admirable.
And fascinating.
Nerishka smiled at the question, but Lyra detected nothing in her bio stats to indicate she was amused.
<Humans have an oddity in their psychology,> Nerishka replied, clearly taking the question seriously. <The tendency towards self-preservation extends towards anything and everything that may threaten one’s safety—which includes the protection of one’s moral grounds, as well as anything we feel even mildly guilty about.>
<You mean your personal failings?> asked Lyra.
<Exactly.> Nerishka nodded as she adjusted the shadows in her face. <Which includes our moral failings too.>
Lyra considered that for a moment. It had never occurred to her to project her own failings onto another being, AI or organic. <So…to appear as someone in need—in any shape or form—will effectively threaten the stability of the observer if he is grappling with moral or personal issues?> she asked, still confused but feeling as though she may understand if she considered the concept a little more.
<Yes. Everything is always about oneself,> Nerishka admitted, the dryness in her tone coming through loud and clear. <So if someone sees this tired haggard woman, they will instinctively pass judgement. Why does she not take care of herself?—if the observer is particular about their own appearance, or has mods they feel guilty about. What is she doing on this side of the ship?—if the observer is entitled or has escaped a poor background and is reluctant to face his humble beginnings. The scenarios are endless.>
<I have always believed organics are motivated by strange things and this just confirms it,> Lyra admitted it seemed an illogical leap but the organics she had met in the duration of her existence had proven thus far to be very much prone to illogical leaps.
<Sounds like a topic close to your heart,> Lyra mused.
Nerishka groaned, eliciting a fond smile from Lyra. <Don’t even get me started on that.>
<Why not? We have thirteen minutes and six point five seconds before we can leave the suite.>
Heaving a reluctant sigh, Nerishka replied, <Because it’s the past and the past is best left buried.>
<I believe that course of action will lead to further personal distress.>
<Observant, aren’t you?>
<I’m a quick study.> Lyra’s avatar grinned, then turned serious. <Now, stop evading my questions.>
Nerishka shook her head. <Seriously Lyra, what is even the point? I spill my heart, throw my skeletons at you, only for Jeriah to pull you as soon as the mission is over. Seems like a waste of time to me.>
<Is that a circuitous way of saying you do not trust me? I assure you, whatever you say will be strictly confidential and that portion of my knowledge will remain secure even if the Hand wishes access.>
Shaking her head, Nerishka said, <No, that’s not what I mean. But I do appreciate the AI-organic confidentiality fine print.> Lyra watched as Nerishka leaned closer to the holo-mirror and pulled her bangs lower onto her forehead. <It’s more to do with sharing the emotions attached to those incidents. On paper it’s one thing, this happened then that happened. But when you confide in someone, you rip open old wounds, you bring past regrets and mistakes to the fore. Sometimes that’s best done with someone you know you will be paired with for a good while.>
<Ah I see. You’re vulnerable and you are protecting your heart. I understand that need and I’m probably not the best sentient being to give you advice on that. AIs tend not to have such concerns—well, not in a relatable fashion, at least.>
Lyra considered her pairing with Nerishka so far—they’d developed a comfortable rapport, both in thought and method of tackling problems. She didn’t have a hard time admitting that she had grown to like Nerishka, becoming fond of her. And that’s likely where Nerishka’s reluctance lay.
Nerishka let out a soft groan. <OK, AI in my head. Time for cards on the table.>
<Okaaaayyy….> Lyra’s tone wary as she sent a worried face.
Nerishka waved a hand and smiled. <Thing is Lyra, I’m growing to like you. I hadn’t intended to, but there it is. My last two AIs were with me only for single missions, and in-between, I didn’t have one—or couldn’t due to the nature of the mission—which was fracking hard if you ask me.>
Lyra found herself filled with a reaction which she interpreted as a form of joy. <I’m fond of you too, Nishka. I admit I was in awe of you when we were first paired, but I’ve seen the humanity behind the persona of the Death Dealer. And I’m finding that I admire you more. And I believe in you.>
Nerishka’s eyebrows rose at the revelation. Lyra’s confession had blind-sided her but given that Nerishka had likely only been thinking of her own emotional vulnerability, that was no surprise. <Thank you for telling me that, Lyra. Thanks for reminding me not to be selfish.>
<Selfish?> Lyra was taken aback for a moment. <I didn’t mean to imply you were. And I’m not certain how you are? Please elaborate.>
<Part of being in a relationship is sharing oneself with the other. It means trusting each other.
>
<So all friends share secrets? Is this compulsory?>
<No, not at all. The subject of friendship is extremely expansive. There are a multitude of variants to it, even within one person’s view of their own relationships.> Nerishka shook her head and Lyra hid a guilty smile. She did tend to segue all too often. Nerishka continued, <So, to go back to my being selfish…I was thinking only of myself and how I was feeling…within the boundaries of this partnership. Our pairing was purely a business arrangement, but the reality is we need to know each other well to be a successful partnership. And I hadn’t given enough consideration to the fact that you have a stake in this relationship too.>
<I see. Yes. I do want this mission to be a success. And ideally, I would prefer to remain with you. And, if that does not come to pass, then I would hope that our shared success will ensure my next pairing will be equally successful.>
Nerishka’s lip rose in a sad smile. <See, that’s what I kinda meant. I’ve assumed the implications and consequences of our pairing didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me. I’d assumed, as you have just said, that an AI would look upon a pairing as something that has a definitive end in sight, and would not want to delve deeper, to become friends.>
<Was that the viewpoint of your previous AIs?> Lyra asked, curious.
Nerishka nodded. <Which I was happy with, to be honest.>
<You don’t sound happy. In fact, I detect what I have deduced to be loneliness.> Lyra paused for a moment. <Did they reject your friendship?> It wouldn’t have been an unusual thing, especially when most Hand operatives are supremely mission-focused.
<No. It was partly me. I didn’t want to be friends. And I was fortunate that neither of them wanted to either. And both times, the pairings were terminated because of ill-fit.>
<Did your reluctance to be friends have anything to do with Gaia?> asked Lyra, knowing she was treading on uneven territory.
Nerishka stiffened and then let out a laugh. <Not at all.>
Lyra responded with her own chuckle; one that was devoid of amusement. <You can try to mask your physiological reactions, but you are wasting your time, you know?>
Nerishka sighed. <Was worth a try.> Then she paced a few feet and rolled her shoulders. <Yes, it was. And I’m not willing to talk about Gaia. Maybe I will…in time. But not just yet.>
<You know I have access to Gaia’s files. I’ve read them,> Lyra said, her tone gentle now. She had read them, but she had refused to interpret them in any way, not until she heard Nerishka’s version of the events.
Nerishka’s face slackened, all evidence of emotion fading. <The truth of it all isn’t in those files. What you saw were merely words. I’m not ready to delve into that part of my past. Not yet.>
Lyra sent a hugging avatar. <I understand. Maybe we could talk about your home? Your family must have not taken kindly to a valued Valkris espion running off and joining the Hand,> Lyra said with a cheeky wink.
Nerishka snorted. <That’s putting it mildly.>
<So…. You ready to share?>
Nerishka didn’t reply.
Lyra studied Nerishka’s physiological reaction to the mention of Valkris; her gut had tightened with nervous anxiety. Whatever had happened when she’d left home more than two centuries ago, still haunted Nerishka. How bad could it have been to stay so fresh for all these years?
Nerishka would tell Lyra about it one day. Of that she was certain.
VALKRIS
STELLAR DATE: 07.15.8758 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Maitreya, Valkris
REGION: Vela Cluster, Transcend Interstellar Alliance
One hundred and ninety years ago…
Nerishka’s reputation was one of strategist, problem solver and calculated killer. In fact, she almost preferred things to go wrong. It added a little spice to the mission. Who would want a boring kill anyway? May as well pull the trigger from a convenient rooftop a kilometer away.
She stood before Kalki, the Grand Matron of Varani, the Ruling House of Valkris, knowing deep down that this had been a bad idea. A very bad idea.
Coming home had been inevitable; Nerishka wasn’t the type to break promises, and family had always meant so much to her. She owed her father, Valan, a visit, had promised to come home repeatedly, ever since she’d more or less defected to the Hand.
But Father hadn’t wanted to see her go—even though he’d understood. He had lost his beloved wife Sirene to the Valkris Espions, and now he faced losing their daughter too. Yet, he’d always put the needs of his loved ones first. Which made neglecting him feel all the more wrong.
And now Nerishka had to face the woman who had refused to allow her to join the Hand—for reasons still unknown to Nerishka.
Kalki stood on a carved stone balcony overlooking a valley filled with trees and plants that burst with color. The Palace of Varani was situated on the highest peak of the valley city of Maitreya, a position only afforded to the ruling house.
The grand matron was tall, curvaceous and dangerous. In her deep purple robe, Kalki was the epitome of regal. She shifted her gaze from the view and studied Nerishka, offering a smile that was both a pleasant welcome and a threat.
“I see you’ve dressed accordingly,” Kalki said with a smirk as she ran her eyes along Nerishka’s form.
Though Nerishka was tempted to fiddle with the voluminous folds of her silk dress, she steeled herself against the urge. She had worn the appropriate clothing because it had been expected.
The crinkled silk of her floor-length royal blue dress hugged her own curves. Miniature flames embroidered with gold and silver thread were woven randomly into the fabric, echoing an element of the coat of arms of House Mitala.
Everything in Maitreya had a purpose. And everything had to be done just so.
Nerishka bowed her head. “I hope the choice of garment suits,” she murmured then straightened. “You look well, Matron Kalki,” she said softly, hating this part of the social dance. She’d have much preferred to get right to the point.
Kalki raised a hand and waved it at the stunning scenery. “Did you miss it? I know you never wanted to leave in the first place.”
Nerishka’s eyes narrowed. “It wasn’t that I never wanted to leave, I just never wanted to be an espion.” Nerishka almost shook her head as the words left her mouth. It was all well and good to be a straight talker, but to do so during an audience with the highest ruler on the world of Valkris was risky at best.
But the woman merely nodded, her features now inscrutable. A light breeze danced around the two of them, tossing hair and fabric into disarray.
Damn these slits, Nerishka muttered silently as she grabbed the long panels of her skirt as they billowed in the air to reveal her bare legs. She wasn’t the self-conscious type, but Kalki often made things more uncomfortable than necessary. Nerishka had gotten the feeling that the scion of House Varani had been interested in more than just a relationship of servitude.
Sadly, despite the woman’s beauty, Kalki hadn’t stirred any fires of longing or love for Nerishka. Could that have contributed to her fury when Nerishka had fled?
“So, to what do we owe the honor of your return?” Kalki asked, her gaze slipping momentarily to Nerishka’s thighs as the fabric flew backward on another gust of wind.
“I wanted to visit my father,” Nerishka replied softly, “and the Hand wishes to repay their debt to you.”
“You mean considering you fled Valkris to work for them without my authority? Without a formal contract in place?”
Nerishka took the question as rhetorical and remained silent. Thankfully the wind had died down, and she no longer needed to protect her bare legs.
As she stared Nerishka down, Kalki smirked, leaning her hip against the stone balustrade as though she couldn’t be more relaxed. “I hope you’ve seen your father by now.” When Nerishka nodded, the woman continued, “Because you will remain incarcerated until such time as I am satisfied with the deal the Hand offers, both in compensation
for your services to date and in reparation for damages to our trust as a result of your defection. Oh, and of course, in consideration to your future engagement with them.” Kalki’s smile was cold as she spoke the equally icy words.
“And if the Hand does not wish to negotiate?” asked Nerishka, knowing the answer the moment the question left her lips.
Kalki sighed deeply, then pouted. “Then, of course, we will move on to the only other option we have available for traitors and defectors.” Her lips shifted into a lazy smile as she raised a finger and drew a line across her throat.
Seriously?
Valkris Espions were usually terminated using a lethal dose of toxins. Was Kalki just being melodramatic or did she have a more grand end to Nerishka’s short and rebellious life in mind?
Nerishka schooled her features and bowed. “If you will give me leave to speak to my liaison at Airtha and relay your term—”
“No need,” Kalki cut her off, her tone icy. “Rudas has already sent a message on a jump gate courier. No doubt they will be here shortly.” Nerishka was sure that the scion’s AI was most efficiently carrying out his orders, but shortly wouldn’t best describe the length of Nerishka’s incarceration if she had to wait for someone to come. Best case scenario, she’d be enjoying jailtime for nothing short of a month.
A flick of Kalki’s finger brought a pair of guards out onto the balcony, both garbed in white, their long shifts cinched at the waist by wide black leather belts holding an array of knives. The first guard—a swarthy mustachioed fellow—approached cautiously, his fingers tense as they curled around a pair of alabaster handcuffs.
Nerishka lifted a brow, her gaze leaving the cuffs and meeting Kalki’s cool grey eyes. “I’m the scion of House Mitala,” said Nerishka, admiring how controlled her own voice was, in volume and passion. “Surely you would not insult our House by throwing me in a cell?”
Kalki burst out laughing. “Oh, my dear. You are too amusing.” Her laughter faded almost instantly and she tossed her long blue hair back over her shoulder. She pointed a finger at the cuffs in the guard’s grip. “Those…they aren’t for your wrists. Over the last few years, I’ve overseen the development of a few interesting toxins. The cuffs contain a selection of the most potent poisons we’ve been able to manufacture. We’re well aware that you’ve likely developed a certain immunity to some of the poisons of our world—Subash would no doubt have ensured that—so we’ve covered all our bases.”