She nodded before continuing.
“He was with a group of Imperial agents, and they were moving between ships and the station to recruit all sorts of people. That’s when they offered me a three-month deal to help retrieve some items.”
“Retrieve?” asked Xenophon with a hint of irony.
“Yes, treasures stolen from the Emperor himself some twenty years ago. We did the job and came back here for payment.”
“Well?”
She pulled out her ID card and flashed it in front of him while at the same time hitting the credit button. The holographic display showed the credit state of her account.
“Wow, that’s a lot of credit. All of that from one job?”
Roxana nodded and then leaned in even closer.
“There’s more, though. Rumour has it that he is back and recruiting for an even bigger team for a special operation. They’re looking for all types, soldiers, engineers, techs, even translators.”
“What kind of a job would need all of that? Don’t they already have the manpower in the Empire? What do they want us for?” asked Glaucon.
Roxana took another sip from her glass and slid back into a more comfortable position in her chair. She was quiet for a moment, perhaps thinking about what to share, or it might have simply been the alcohol slowing her down.
“Why do you think there are so many Laconians here? He is offering them more money than an Alliance solider earns in a lifetime, for one job. How much does a Laconian soldier earn?”
Glaucon shrugged, and Xenophon shook his head in disappointment.
“Glaucon, you know full well that Laconians only train for war, and that is their sole role in life. The automatons provide the labour in the cities and fields so that they can work on their fighting skills. They earn nothing, and the state provides them with food, clothes and a home, nothing more.”
“Exactly, and this job can make every one of them rich beyond their wildest dreams.”
Xenophon threw back a sip of the liquid and instantly regretted it. The warm drink rushed down his throat and sat in his chest, burning hot and heavy inside. He coughed to try and clear it, but it didn’t help. After a few more seconds, the discomfort started to subside, and he tried to look as calm and comfortable as he could.
“So, you’re signing up for this adventure, then?” he asked.
“Definitely. You’ve seen the reports back home. I’m just as likely to be lynched as given a friendly welcome. This way, I get to keep away and have some money behind me.”
“What about afterwards? What will you do with the money?”
“Who cares?” she said with a cavalier tone. “You know how this works. Money makes life much easier. Maybe I’ll start my own agency, return, buy a farm. I’ll decide when I get to it. But for now, it is good money and guaranteed work for at least six months.”
“Six?” asked Glaucon.
“Yes, at least. That’s the rumour, anyway. You two thinking of coming along?”
The two young men looked at each other, both trying to gauge what the other thought. Xenophon was by far the most eager, but Glaucon looked confused. Xenophon looked back to her.
“There’s something else.”
“Go on.”
“My father. He was killed during the changeover.”
Roxana looked crestfallen. She had been a friend of the family for many years, and right back to when Xenophon had been a boy. She had known his father well, so her anguish was genuine and heartfelt.
“I’m so sorry, can you tell me what happened?” she asked quietly.
“It was murder. That bitch Montoya, one of the Thirty and her cronies, shot him in the back and left him to rot.”
“Why? What did she have to gain?” asked Roxana.
“We didn’t have the opportunity to find out. Half the city was trying to break through the perimeter, and as you can see, they are looking for anybody with links to the old regime with a vengeance. That’s one of the reasons we’re here.”
Roxana tapped the table and a computer display popped up, projected directly in front of her. With a few quick hand gestures, she brought up the latest public reports from Attica and the outlying worlds of the old Alliance. Page after page slid past until she stopped at one in particular. She stared for several seconds before turning to Xenophon.
“You have a problem. Have you not seen this?”
Xenophon stood up and moved around to sit beside her. He looked at the data, specifically the images and text on a publically issued police report. There was an attached warrant for both him and Glaucon.
“What does it say?” asked Glaucon, but his voice implied he already had a good idea what it was about.
“It’s my father. There’s a public warrant out for our arrest in any former Alliance territory.”
“What? That will be Montoya and her friends. What does it say we did?”
Roxana moved the page and brought up extra information from the local news sources. One image more than any caught her eye. It was of the civic buildings, each of them burning from the fires of public disorder. The old Ecclesia, a structure famed as the symbol of democracy, was heavily damaged. Multiple explosions had smashed the famous front facade, and much of its structure now lay in ruins. Large segments appeared untouched, but the information around the images explained it would probably need to be demolished and a new one built on the ruins.
“No, it can’t be. The reports say a group of hard-core supporters of the old regime refused to hand over power to the people. When the moderates in the Thirty tried to hand over power, this group tried to start a coup. It says Gryllus was the leader with military support from me and an underground revolutionary party led by you, Glaucon.”
“What? The group I was in was pushing for democratic change. It was a political protest movement. You’re telling me we’ve been blamed for the explosions, violence and carnage in the capital?”
Xenophon leaned back and shook his head.
“It’s worse than that. The official line is that we fought with my father over control and ended up killing him.”
“Bullshit!” snapped Glaucon in a rage.
He stood up, and Xenophon was forced to drag him back down before he drew too much attention to their quiet part of the bar. Two or three unsavoury characters were already watching them. Xenophon looked back to Roxana, and he was having a difficult time gauging her thoughts.
“You don’t believe this, do you?” he asked.
She smiled at him.
“Xenophon, I’ve known you and your father for years. I cannot see either of you doing anything other than what you might think is best for Attica. As for this trouble, and the death of your father, it is rubbish. But that’s not really the issue, is it?”
Xenophon nodded in agreement.
“Yes, you’re right. With the change of government, and this lie being told, we’re essentially outcasts from Attica. If we travel anywhere near there, we’ll be arrested and returned for a trial.”
And when I say trial, I actually mean a show trial where we all get strung up and left to rot. There’s no chance in hell we’d get a fair deal back home, not yet anyway.
Roxana turned the virtual display around so that it displayed correctly for the two men. The detail was impressive, and the quality good enough to read from where they sat.
“No, it is much worse than that. In the last hour, envoys have been sent to the old worlds of the Alliance. It looks like they are trying to draw up a new treaty arrangement.”
“Treaty?” asked Glaucon.
“The Alliance, they are going to try and rebuild it, and then make all the same mistakes they made last time. I warned them about this. Actually, Crixus and his people warned us as well. The only reason they stayed as long as they did was to try and persuade us to not go down this road again. You realise that the Laconians won’t let us off so lightly next time? I wouldn’t be surprised if they flattened Attica so as to make an example.”
A loud noise erupted from the right of the bar as a group of three people entered. They were all dressed in long flowing robes, and each was of a different colour and pattern. They moved with an elegance and grace that Xenophon assumed they were women. A number of the men in the bar were quite vulgar in their language towards them, yet they slipped past and made their way to a table. One by one, they removed their hoods to reveal their slender, smooth faces. Each was longhaired, with flowing locks that ran down past their shoulders. He almost forgot to swallow at the sight of such perfection.