Dusk (Dusk 1) (7 page)

“I had a wonderful time, Merrick,” Olivia said, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. He still tasted of sea salt, and she smiled as she realized that she would forevermore associate that flavor with Merrick turning her senses inside out on the beach. She shivered deliciously, wondering how soon they could return for an encore performance.

“I did too, sweetheart,” he assured her. His hazel eyes danced in the dim light of the control panel. “I wish we could do that every day.”

She laughed. “You’re insatiable.”

“Only for you.” He winked.

The canopy slid open and locked back, allowing her to exit. She was so lost in admiring the view of Merrick’s tight buttocks as he swung out of his seat that it took her a moment to realize she was being hailed.

“-- via! Oh, God, Olivia!”

She turned to see Hui Sin Ling hurrying toward the ’car, her face so white she looked like she’d just been doused with flour. “Ling! What’s wrong?”

“It’s… it’s Ambassador Trelawney!” Ling skidded to a stop less than a handspan away. “I think he’s… he’s…”

Her eyes overflowed with tears. Reflexively, Olivia put her arms around the other woman.

“He’s what, Ling?” The bottom dropped out of Olivia’s stomach.

Ling twined herself around Olivia like a limpet, her sobs so powerful they set Olivia’s teeth rocking. Olivia could only make out the word “dead” through the other woman’s wails.

“Dead? Ambassador Trelawney’s dead? How do you know?”

Ling only sobbed all the harder, any attempt at speech blocked by her jerky inhalations and warbling cries.

Over Ling’s shoulder, Olivia speared Merrick with a glance. “Go check on the Ambassador. I’ll stay here and try to calm Ling down.”

Merrick didn’t ask any questions. His chiseled jaw tightened, but he only turned and loped away toward the corridor that led to the DDC lift to the top of the Aerie.

Once Merrick was safely away, Olivia guided Ling to the floor. Despite the fact Ling probably outmassed Olivia by thirty kilos, she followed Olivia’s guidance without protest or question. Olivia held her close and stroked her silky hair until the woman’s sobs faded to mild hiccups, and then asked again.

“What makes you think he’s dead?”

Ling met her eyes with her own fiery 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, guided along on antigrav carts by liveried servicepeople: with alcohol for those who fancied a nip, sparkling water or fruit juice for those who did not. Olivia noted without a shred of surprise that the whiskey, vodka, and wine went far faster than the non-alcoholic beverages. She picked up a pair of glasses containing fruit juice and passed one to Merrick.

Dr. Granger spoke from behind her. “May I have a word, Olivia?”

She turned to see Granger looking as solemn and severe as his friendly face could manage. “Of course.” She glanced at Merrick.

Before she could say anything, Granger pressed on. “You don’t need to leave, Merrick. What I have to say concerns both of you.”

Merrick’s eyebrows jumped a little, but otherwise he gave no indication of surprise.

“Some of the other members and I have been talking, Olivia. We know that you and Merrick are virtually the only ones in the Corps who could not have had anything to do with Ambassador Trelawney’s death. I know myself to be innocent, but proving such a thing will take precious time the Corps can ill afford right now.”

Olivia frowned, wondering what Granger could possibly be driving at. She raised her glass and sipped at the light pink liquid within to conceal her confusion.

He caught the look and hurried on. “I, and many of the others, wish to nominate
you
as the new Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary from Dusk to the Interstellar Confederacy.”

This bombshell caught her in mid-swallow, and she inhaled the sweet, acidic juice. Immediately she began to cough and sputter uncontrollably. Merrick pounded her back gently, trying to help her evacuate the juice from her lungs. Granger knelt in front of her, taking her hands and holding them tightly so she would not try to straighten prematurely.

After what felt like half of eternity but was really probably less than a minute, she finally took a clear breath and pulled her hands away. Standing erect, she took another, more judicious swallow of the contents of her glass.

Merrick glared at Granger. “So was your plan to nominate and assassinate her all in one move?”

Granger gazed back, completely unruffled. “Hardly. A dead ambassador is of no use to us. However, we need someone who is willing to take the lead in the negotiations with Terra concerning the magickstone. We believe that you are the most qualified person to do so.”

She raised an eyebrow. “But I’ve never even been to Terra. I would have said you or Ingrid would be a better candidate.”

“You are not under any obligation to accept the nomination, Olivia. You need only consider it. We believe you have the energy and idealism of youth, which in this case would be assets we can hardly afford to do without. Ingrid and I both know how we would respond to the Terrans. Both of us would tell them, in no uncertain terms, to piss off. You, on the other hand, have a cooler and more strategically-oriented head. We trust you to make the best possible decision.”

She made a noncommittal gesture with her head. “And what part does Merrick have to play in this?”

Granger met her eyes, as if willing her to see the sincerity and truth of what he was telling her.

“We believe Merrick could best serve as your personal security. After all, he has every reason not to want your lovely body damaged --”

“Careful,” Merrick growled.

“-- and is the person most ideally placed to help keep you alive,” Granger plodded on as if Merrick hadn’t spoken. “It is hardly the perfect solution, but perfection does not exist. We must deal only with what is. In this event, I think you and Merrick together make a very dangerous combination, fully capable of fighting off an attacker while still possessing enough sense to make the right decisions for all parties concerned.”

Olivia nodded slowly. “I don’t entirely know that I like it, but put that way, it seems I have no choice. But who will vote for me?”

Granger stepped back three paces and raised his voice so it cut through the fog of grief and anxiety cloaking the room.

“Fellow diplomats!” he cried. “I call for an immediate vote to determine the next Ambassador to the Interstellar Confederacy. I name Olivia Gunnarson as my candidate! Who will second my vote?”

With suspicious speed, Ingrid, Ling, Merrick, and half a dozen others cried, “Aye!”

“Will anyone else stand forward to be considered?” Granger’s body language suggested he was willing to entertain alternate suggestions, but the look on his face and the way he bit off the words indicated dire straits ahead for anyone who dared to take up the challenge.

No one moved.

“Then I put it to a vote, here and now. All in favor?”

The room erupted into a wall of sound as dozens of lungs shouted, “Aye!”

“Do I hear anyone against?”

Now the members hesitated, each looking at the other to see if anyone dared speak. Olivia could almost hear their thoughts: Whoever the new Ambassador was, he or she would certainly be the assassin’s next target, assuming that Trelawney had in fact been murdered because of what he knew about the gallartium negotiations and not because he had run afoul of someone for more personal reasons. Everyone there would have given their eyeteeth for the opportunity Olivia had just been handed by acclamation, but none of them was willing to purchase that opportunity or the power that came with it at the possible expense of a vastly abbreviated lifespan.

Granger waited for an interminable count of ten and then nodded.

“Very well. Then, fellow diplomats, it is my great pleasure to introduce you all to Her Excellency, The Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to the Interstellar Confederacy, Olivia Gunnarson!”

Every person in the chamber burst into applause.

Olivia wanted nothing more than to grasp Merrick by the nearest protruding part she could grab and run. Everything was moving far too fast, from just another day of deliberations to the murder of her friend and mentor to acceding to the pinnacle of power on Dusk. No one outranked her now; even the Governor of Galacia, the closest thing to an absolute monarch the planet boasted, could look at her only as an equal.

What the hell do I do now
? she thought frantically, looking around at the familiar faces bearing markedly
unfamiliar
expressions that plainly said they expected her to command them.

She held up her hands for silence. As if a switch had been flicked, she received it.

“Everyone, take your seats,” she ordered. “We have much to consider.”

* * *

Olivia sagged against the wall of her room, pressing her hands against her eyes. Merrick sat on the bed, watching her as closely as he might a man juggling live, armed plasma grenades.

“Oh, God. Merrick, what am I going to do?”

He smiled. “You’re going to do your absolute best and make them proud they decided to give you the chance.”

She looked anything but reassured. “Merrick, I want to do the right thing, but every instinct I have is screaming at me to just walk away from this, tell Terra we’re not interested, and let it be.”

He longed to go to her and comfort her, but he knew Olivia well enough to know she wouldn’t appreciate the attempt right now. If she had her way about it, Merrick would discreetly exit the room and only return when she had herself back under control. Of course, as her bodyguard, Merrick was required to consider her safety first and her wishes second. It ran completely counter to his more amorous instincts where she was concerned, but he knew as well as anyone the potential danger she was in.

Time to start thinking like a bodyguard, Merrick
.

Galacia City Security had released the scene and removed Trelawney’s body for a deep-tissue scan. The cause of death had been determined to be a stab wound to the top of the neck, directly between the Atlas vertebra and the base of the skull. According to the medic who had recorded the injury, Trelawney would have been killed instantly.

“Probably didn’t even feel it, the poor bastard,” the medic said quietly as he shuffled past, guiding the antigrav sled on which Trelawney’s shrouded form reclined. Olivia stifled a sob, huddling into Merrick like a small animal seeking security and warmth. He held her as long as she needed, and then she moved away to talk to the chief of security.