"Sinklar, please." The Head Regent fumbled nervously with his hands. "I'm sure it's a mistake. The empire needs people with your incredible brilliance. Don't do this to yourself."
Sinklar balled up the flimsy and tossed it at the disposal bin. "It's not your fault, sir. You took a chance on me and I did the best I could for you. But, you see, sir, I'm different — and it isn't just my eyes that set me apart."
"Sinklar, you're punishing yourself for something that's not your fault. Please, let me check into this."
"I'd appreciate that, sir. But it won't do any good."
The Head Regent raised an eyebrow. "I think I know the system. I may even have more pull than you think."
"Then you know how emarrassing it would be for a waif like me to score at the head of the class — above all those aspiring scions of nobility. And I would, Head Regent. You know it… and so do the admissions officers at the Regan University."
The Head Regent watched him glumly. "Knowledge can be a dangerous thing, boy. Your study of political science, imperial history, and sociology—"
"Have given me an in-depth understanding of how the Regan Empire works, sir."
The Head Regent nodded in defeat. "Promise me one thing, Sinklar. Don't become bitter and hateful. Don't let this one disappointment fester and ruin your life. If for no other reason, do it for me."
"Yes, sir. Blind anger and hatred are for the ignorant and the stupid. I'm neither.";
"No, you're not. But at times, Sinklar, you frighten me. What will you do?" i
"I don't know, sir." Sinklar paused, a sour smile on his lips. "Perhaps send an application to the Companions… join the Star Butcher's forces. As I understand it, they value intelligence."
The Head Regent went ashen. For the briefest moment, glittering resolve lurked in his eyes. Then he noted Sinklar's amusement, and sagged, saying hollowly, "Don't even jest about that. The last thing you need to concern yourself with is that cold-blooded villain and his band of vile scum."
"But he is brilliant."
"Brilliant? Yes, Sinklar, and without a shred of conscience or morality. My soul twists at the thought of him."
Why, Sinklar mused, did I evoke such a response from the Head Regent?
As the door slipped closed behind Sinklar Fist, the Head Regent took a deep breath and rubbed his tired eyes. He finally straightened and leaned back. "You heard all that?"
One of the data cube racks along the wall swung open to reveal a sophisticated communications and listening post. A young woman in sienna robes stepped out. "He's a frightening young man. You know what we're dealing with: a time bomb. You know his potential, and on top of it there's everything we've packed into that brain of his. The Quantum Gods help us if the Regans ever find out how he really scored on that exam. Think of what they could do with him — no matter who his parents were."
The Head Regent nodded and drummed his fingers on the desk. "What do we do, Marta? He's going to seek an outlet for that talent."
She pinched her chin between thumb and forefinger as she paced before his desk. "What do you do with any problem child? Put him in the military."
The Head Regent chuckled humorlessly. "Don't you think that's like shooting pulse rockets at a munitions factory?"
Marta spread her hands wide. "I don't see any other,
choice. For as long as I've monitored him, I can see trouble ahead unless we defuse it."
"And you think putting him in the army will do that. Very well, call Bruen.
Talk it over with him. If he agrees, I'll pull some strings." He shook his head. "But you'd better be right."
Leonidas Andropolous stuck his stassa cup into the dispenser and watched the thick black liquid fill the cup. Then he leaned back in his squeaky chair and stared at the woman and two men — Vegans from the scarves they wore over their faces — who walked into his sparely furnished office. Years of practice as head of Myklenian Port Security had given him a sense for the sort of merchants and traders he dealt with. These he placed immediately: longtime spacers who didn't mind bending rules here and there — or breaking them outright if they thought the chance for profits outweighed the risks.
Andropolous placed his cup in the warmer on the side of his desk and laced stubby fingers over his belly. The hum from the security monitoring computers in the next room could be heard through the wall.
"Good day, I'm Colonel Andropolous, how may I help you?"
The woman stepped forward and nodded slightly. She wore baggy coveralls, worn shiny on the knees and elbows and smudged here and there. A bright red scarf muffled the lower half of her face, but Leonidas could tell she was a striking woman. Wisps of pale blonde hair escaped the zero g cap she wore.
The men looked like typical nigged merchants, the sort that patronized the dock bars and brothels and generally gave his men a hard time when they "whooped it up portside."
"My pleasure Colonel," the woman told him in a commanding voice. "I'm Alexia Dharmon. I'm here to represent Captain Ruse of the Vegan merchantman, Trickster. We just grappled dockside and wanted to check in. We thought we'd see you first thing since we've heard the schedule might be a little rushed when it comes time to ship out."
"You've heard the stories about war with Sassa." Andro polous drummed his fingers on the desktop. "You're not the first, and you won't be the last. I suppose you want an officer to accompany your people while they load? Conduct the manifest inspection on the spot? You know, it will cost you extra."
"We're willing to pay, Colonel. It's worth it to us to cut our profit margins in the interest of time."
He chuckled. "You know, you're all going to feel a little foolish when you make it back to Vega and find out the Star Butcher didn't attack and you paid all those exorbitant prices for nothing."
She nodded. "That's part of the risk of doing business, isn't it, Colonel?"
He picked up his stassa, sipped loudly, and punched his comm button with the other hand. Text flashed across his desk monitor. Andropolous raised an eyebrow. "According to our files, Trickster has a two-hundred credit defaulted payment from your last port call."
Dharmon reached into the spacer's pouch at her hip and placed five golden coins on the desktop. "Five hundred credits Colonel — in gold, Sassan though it might be. I believe that should settle all accounts, cover any fines, interest, and collection costs." She leaned forward, blue eyes eager. "And we'll settle up in gold before we leave."
"That's far more than is required at this time."
He could ee the grim smile in her eyes. "Credit our account. any way you see fit, Colonel. We just want to make sure there are no problems with our departure."
Andropolous smiled and slid three of the coins across the desk before palming them. He punched the comm button again, calling, "Theodora, please send two of your security staff up. They're to go on assignment immediately."
Alexia looked at her two companions, both of whom had begun to grin through their scarves in a most predatory way.
"So you really think it will come to war?" Andropolous asked as he leaned back in his chair again.
Dharmon shrugged and rearranged the scarf that covered her mouth. "It would be a shame if it did. The merchants would just as soon see that Myklene remained sovereign. Trade's better that way. If the empire absorbs you, it'll take time to rebuild the economy. After that, you're just like
everyone else. We'll only make money from haul fee, not from trade."
Andropolous snorted and shook his head. "Tell that to your God-Emperor."
"We did," one of the men growled. "Maybe our likes aren't sacred enough for his tastes."