"Enter," Rolf said, steel in his voice. His subordinate had the smarts to appear shamefaced as he entered his boss's office. It was time for a reckoning.
"Here, Chief. Ready to accept all responsibility for my actions!" Halkken said, standing stiff as a board.
"You better! You've made a mighty mess of things." The fallout of Halkken's blunder had given Rolf no end of headaches. Famus Kin, a famous hero of the last war, had gone missing. An entire camp of Demon refugees had vacated the city. And Phú, his AI secretary and mascot of the Vladus Police Force, had died.
"I'd choose your next words carefully. Sunbearer is on my ass to see you vivisected," Rolf's voice lower, his words acidic.
"Chief, um, you shouldn't be so hard on him. I'm sure he did his best," a soft voice said. The pink-haired girl on his monitor, adorned with police-siren hair clips, gave Halkken a reassuring smile.
"Thank Phú2!" Halkken said, touched.
"Did I tell you to speak?" Rolf snapped, and Halkken shut his mouth. He turned toward the monitor and the station's new mascot. "That means you too, Phú2."
"I'm sorry, sir," Phú2 said glumly, her pigtails sagging. "I spoke out of turn."
When the original Phú had gotten erased beyond recovery, R&D had restored an older, modified version of her program. Despite her charming cuteness, it wasn't the same. Rolf rather missed his old digital secretary's snappy snideness. This new version was too agreeable for his taste. But the Phú model's designers intended it as an evolving AI, capable of modifying its personality based on experiences and interactions. Who knew how she'd develop later?
"Now, tell me everything that happened. Leave anything out, and I'll put your fingers in a vice." Rolf listened as Halkken explained his side of the story. They had some security footage, but Rolf wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth.
"And that's when this blonde babe rushed in and—bam, bam, bam!" Halkken gestured with his finger like a gun. "Seen nothing like it, like she was a trained killer."
"Blonde?" An idea struck Rolf, and he produced a photo of Jafia Kelvas. "Was this the woman?" It was a reasonable guess. She was a known traitor and associate of Rocke.
"Yep, that's her," Halkken said after a careful study of the photo.
"Like a trained killer? What do you mean?"
"Precise. Never wasted a move. The rest of Rocke's team were total amateurs. She was the real deal—killed without hesitation."
Rolf leaned back in his chair, considering. His gut had told him she was dangerous the first time they'd met in her apartment. He'd kept a hand ready to draw his sidearm during the entire brief interview. It was clear she was more than just Rocke's ex-lover—as if the bomb she'd left that killed five of his officers, wasn't already enough of a clue.
Was she an assassin hired to kill the late Secretary Loffie? But why stay with Rocke's resistance group? There was no money in that. But it would help another group—one that profited from chaos in Vladus.
"She's a damn Vanderfall spy, isn't she?" Rolf thought, knowing his gut had given him the right answer. It explained why they'd gone after Famus Kin specifically, an infamous war criminal in Vanderfall's eyes.
The timing was too coincidental. She was exactly where their foreign enemy needed her to be to cause maximum chaos. Camp R's liberation had stirred uproar on all sides. Some consider the Demons' treatment too inhumane. Others decried the incompetence of the police and cities armed forces for allowing terrorists to free an entire internment camp from under their noses. Everyone wanted someone to blame.
"Phú2, put an APB out on Jafia Kelvas," Rolf said. They already wanted her, but it won't hurt to amp up the pressure.
"Okay, sir. Happy to help." Phú2 gave him a graceful bow. "I'll get on it right away."
"Too strange." Rolf shook his head, returning to the trouble at hand. He continued to grill his subordinate about yesterday's events until Halkken satisfied him.
"So I split up with Rocke's gang and waited for the fire department and emergency forces to arrive. I did my best to help the injured guards before they arrived."
"That's something, at least." Still, eight of the twelves guards stationed at Camp R were dead.
"Well, it's not like I could stop Rocke's group by myself." Halkken's expression turned reflective. "They saved my life, actually. The Demons in the camp wanted to rip my poor head off. I'm lucky Matthias defended me."
The story became clearer. The original Phú—Phú1—had gone on a warpath, betraying her partner. And out of gratitude for saving his life, Halkken had helped kill her. Rolf knew his sergeant. He'd always had a strong sense of honor. Not that it forgave his crimes.
Halkken bowed deeply. "Do to me however you wish. I won't protest."
"He was too agreeable about this," Rolf thought. It took the fun out of punishing him.
Still, Halkken wasn't wrong about being powerless to prevent the camp's captives from escaping. Anything else would have gotten him killed. Still, he'd caused Phú's death—a valuable member of Vladus's police force.
"You're on probation until internal affairs finish an investigation into your actions. But I'll speak favorably of you. Your record has been impeccable until now."
Halkken gave him a low bow, his head almost touching Rolf's desk. "Thank you, sir." Without hesitation, he handed over his badge and gun. Before he left, he hesitated in Rolf's doorway.
"Yes?" Rolf asked, eyebrow raised.
"Are we doing the right thing?"
"What do you mean?"
"In Camp R, I saw some strange things. I can't stop thinking about it." Halkken paused, collecting himself before speaking. "I saw someone walk into literal flames, and she was totally unharmed."
"There was a lot of smoke. You must have imagined it," Rolf said, not unkindly. Was his subordinate suggesting he'd seen an act of the Sovereign?
"Maybe, but I've been getting the nagging feeling we're close to walking off a cliff. I thought things were fine, but Camp R…" Halkken shook his head, giving a weak smile. "I'm overthinking things. Good day, sir."
Rolf watched as Halkken left, brooding. While he doubted his subordinate had seen divine intervention, Camp R was pointedly cruel even for the sadists that ran his country. But its wrong or rightness didn't matter. Duty was more important.
"Are you okay, sir?" Phú2 asked, tense. She seemed distressed to see him distressed.
"I'll live." It's all one can hope for. "Forget Camp R—how are tonight's preparations going?" Rocke's little rebel band had already proven how willing they were to cause trouble. On his honor as an officer of the law, he wouldn't let even a paper cut hurt the mayor.
He had planned to leave the security arrangements to Shiisaa, but Rolf decided he'd supervise them himself. Then tomorrow the Demons would leave Vladus forever and there'd be peace. Then he'd hunt Rocke at his leisure. But first priority? Ensuring the mayor's safety.
"Deputy Shiisaa tells me everything seems in order. After the Camp R fiasco, humans naturally guarded all obvious entry points. And we've cleared all the staff. I don't see how anyone could cause any trouble."
"Trouble always finds a way," Rolf replied. "I'm inspecting each security detail myself, even the vents if I have to."
"But sir, doesn't the mayor want you at the party? Your next election is coming in two months. It might be wiser to mingle with Vladus's movers and shakers." When Rolf gave Phú2 a fierce glare, she waved her hands in panic. "It's all up to you, of course!"
"Well, that's just tough. Sunbearer can bellyache all he wants." Besides, Rolf hated these fancy parties. He always felt the odd man out—a gorilla wearing a fancy suit. No, his talents were served best doing his job and keeping people safe. If Rocke tried anything, he'd break the boy's neck with his bare hands.
///
"You can still back out." Her fellow spy, Rojan, gave Jafia a dubious look.
They watched as cars more expensive than either of them would earn in five lifetimes entered the far parking lot. The guests exiting their vehicles sparkled like rare jewels, each fighting to outdo their peers in elegance. They poured into a parked luxury yacht that floated above them—a five-story liner that blotted out the setting sun.
Rojan wasn't kidding about her poor state—Jafia was literally running on fumes. The battering and smoke inhalation she'd gotten from Camp R had pressed her past the breaking point. And she was pushing herself even further for another mission, one with a possibility of greater peril. But Jafia was a Vanderfall spy, and they were counting on her to complete the mission.
"I'll manage," Jafia replied, her stoic response ruined when she broke into a coughing fit.
"I doubt the bosses will mind you sitting this out," Rojan said. "Heck, I'm sure they'll be happy to give you a medal for your work yesterday. You achieved well beyond expectations."
"Please. We caused the UOP dogs only some minor irritation at best yesterday. Today, we will strike terror into their black hearts."
This wasn't totally true, however. Rojan had caused no end of embarrassment to some rather high-profile politicians and entrepreneurs in UOP high society with the blackmail files he'd stolen from Warden Famus, airing out dirty laundry they'd tried covering up for decades. Attending today's party were the city's elite, the untouchables of the UOP—the people Jafia despised the most. Mayor Sunbearer was her primary target, the source of the Ottomon's recent suffering, the rest were gravy.
"Okay," Rojan said, resigned, knowing his fellow spy's obstinacy.
"Security is tighter than I thought." Given the people attending, it wasn't unexpected, but this seemed overkill.
Officers and personal bodyguards were everywhere, ready for any potential danger. Security bots surveyed the skies like angry insects, their torrent guns capable of shredding a tank. Beyond them, the robotic protection was minimal—not surprising, considering what had happened yesterday.
"How are we getting in?" Still recovering from her injuries, Jafia was woefully unprepared for this mission. But such difficulties often came with spy work, so improvisation was a key skill. Their original plan was to impersonate staff members, but that plan had gone out the window as Sunbearer's paranoia kicked into overdrive after the Camp R fiasco, and he'd sacked most of the staff. Now, those remaining had to work triple shifts.
"It'll be tight, but they didn't think of everything." Rojan gave a cocky grin. "It will be dangerous, though—possibly kill us both instantly."
Jafia accepted this dire pronouncement in her stride and nodded. "Let's go."
As she exited their car, Jafia broke into another coughing fit and stumbled. A hand caught her and stopped her from falling.
"Thanks." She gasped when she realized who'd caught her. "K–Kallane?!"
"Hey." Kallane's smile was smug, like she'd caught a child sneaking into the cookie jar.
Instinctively, Rojan reached for his weapon, but froze as a knife tip touched his throat. "Don't," Nitao said.
"Let's have a quick chat in that park." Kallane said.
"Fine. Let's get some air," Jafia said, stepping out of their car. With some hesitation, Rojan followed them.
When they entered the empty park, Kallane came to the point. "Okay, who are you really, Jafia?"
She exchanged a look with her fellow spy, who just shrugged. "My real name is Jafia Bronfreld. I work for the Vanderfall government. They tasked me with disrupting Vladus infrastructure."
"So, a spy?" Kallane replied.
"Yes."
"I knew it! You seemed a little too good. And let me guess—Rocke was a little prop to help you blend in," Kallane said.
"Yes." Complicated feelings aside, it was the truth. There was no point in hiding it.
"Poor Rocke." Kallane's breath quickened in outrage. "He's going to be so heartbroken."
"Listen here, girl." Jafia put steel in her voice. "I broke up with Rocke to protect him. I didn't want him caught up in my business. Rocke… I didn't want to see him hurt." And the months they'd spent together had been fun, false pretense or not.
"I know." Kallane seemed to deflate. "You wouldn't have thrown yourself into a burning building if you hadn't."
"Now that we've settled this love triangle business, what do you want? We were in the middle of a very important mission," Rojan said.
"Love triangle? There's nothing of the sort here!" Kallane said, her face glowing beat red. Jafia herself also felt mortified. Had she stumbled into some love triangle? She was a trained spy. This sort of thing shouldn't happen to her!
"I don't care," Rojan said, annoyed. "Answer the question."
"We were curious about you." Kallen replied. "So we followed you." Nitao nodded in agreement.
"We have a common enemy. There's no need for you to interfere with our operation." From Rojan's expression, he'd kill them if they interfered further. But his smile turned sly. "I think you can help us."
"You're not really thinking of letting these civilians help us?" Jafia said, incredulous.
"Why not? If you've forgotten, you're still recuperating," Rojan said innocently. "And it's only fair—we helped their resistance group on multiple occasions."
Jafia pointed at Kallane's Ottomon tattoo, then at Nitao's handsome Konquellian features. "These two can't exactly blend on a ship full of stuffy, rich types."
"True, but they can help us in other ways," Rojan replied.
Kallane looked at her partner, who gave her a slight nod. "We're for it. I'm not happy you lied to us, but you helped save my uncle and over three thousand Ottomon captives. It's the least we can do."
"This isn't a good idea, Rojan," Jafia said, trying to knock some sense into her fellow spy.
"Trust me. We can make this work. I have a plan." Rojan put a firm hand on her shoulder.
///
"Welcome! Welcome!" Sunbearer said, shaking the hand of Council Member Laruina. She looked fabulous as always, though her dress seemed odd for the occasion. When his friend caught him staring, Laruina gave a warm chuckle.
"Scandalized, are you? I'm not surprised, but I think it's fitting." Her dress used characters from the Demons' ancient language, disused for almost a hundred years.
Its script used letters that both represented a sound and a meaning. The first character in their language meant "leader" or "beginning," and that meaning helped build words. The council member's dress didn't seem to contain anything resembling actual workable sentences. He also realized her dress resembled ancient Demon attire.
Laruina laughed, a sound that grated on the nerves. "They're a dead people. Why not make their fashion my own?"
"You might say this party is a funeral, of sorts," her husband, Braken, said. Compared even to Sunbearer's impressive height, he was a tower of a man. He was handsome in his dark suit, towering over everyone else in the room.
"I see," Sunbearer kept his dislike hidden—and not just because Braken had been brazenly coming after his job for years. "Enjoy yourselves."
"Oh, we will!" Braken said, taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. "Oh, hello, Janus—fancy seeing you here!" He waved to the senator who'd just disentangled herself from an unwanted conversation. While subtle, her mouth clenched as Braken and his wife approached her.
"The poor woman," Sunbearer thought. Braken was a notorious social leech, trying to butter up everyone for his own gain. Sunbearer's smile was more genuine as the next person approached.
"Mariha." Sunbearer gave the woman a hearty handshake, pleased with her presence.
"Cal, it's so good to see you," Mariha wore a simple but fashionable red dress. As usual, the elegant middle-aged councilwoman drew everyone's eyes. She didn't need glamour or sparkle to command attention.
"What the heck is she wearing?" Mariha said, bewildered as she spotted Laruina. "Even for her, that's quite an eyesore." Unlike many politicians, she was more candid in her speech. It made her useful for solving problems, always getting to the heart of the matter.
"She says it's appropriate for this event, which she calls the Demons' funeral."
"Of course." Mariha's expression soured. "And I suppose you approve, then?"
"No, don't be silly." But he tensed at Mariha's sharp, penetrating gaze. She hadn't been subtle about her disapproval of his Ugly Duckling plan, the only member to vote against it. She sighed. "But what's done is done. What's important is what to do moving forward."
"And your AI bots as a labor force intrigue me," Mariha said. "Some real potential to improve the UOP everywhere."
"I try," Sunbearer said, pleased with himself. "Since I've taken office, I've worked day and night to improve the lot of the people of our fair nation. You might say I'm a prophet—but I work in reality and justice. The streets have never been safer under my vision."
Mariha gave a respectful nod. While someone could criticize him on dozens of issues, Sunbearer had fulfilled every vow he'd made during his campaign.
"And once the demonic filth leaves our fair city, my legacy will endure until the end of time," Sunbearer thought. His mood soured as a familiar burly man approached, his expression dour as usual. Didn't his chief of police know how to relax?
"And to what do I owe this honor, Chief Rolf?" Sunbearer said with thinly disguised patience. He fought back his irritation that the man had slighted him by refusing to attend the party, only working on security instead. It'd help Sunbearer's image to be on friendly terms with the city's police chief.
"No emergency. But I wish to speak in private, if that's okay?" Sunbearer didn't like Rolf's mocking smile as he said this.
The police chief's expression soured somewhat as a severe-looking, raven-haired man came into view, his gaze penetrating as he surveyed the party. It took a second for Sunbearer to recall the man's name—Ekkor Ralss, a prominent businessman who dabbled in politics. Some said he had an excellent shot at becoming mayor, but Sunbearer doubted it. Some scandal Sunbearer couldn't remember had marred his family, likely killing any chance at that dream. Still, Rolf's obvious disdain of the man was curious.
"Very well. We'll speak in that side room." Sunbearer gestured, and the police chief followed. This drew the attention of the guests, but Sunbearer smiled them away, making it seem they were old friends having a private discussion.
"What is it?" Sunbearer said with undisguised impatience.
"The captain tells me I need your permission to move the airship to a different location."
"That's all? Why are you bothering me with this?"
"Protesters. I suppose you haven't looked outside, but they've been gathering in their hundreds. Three guesses why." Rolf didn't bother keeping the contempt from his voice.
"Well, deal with them! That is your job!"
"They aren't a danger. I was more wondering if you'd like your little high-class shindig somewhere other than in the middle of an active protest. People are already talking."
Sunbearer peeked outside. Some guests had already noticed the protesters, staring out the viewpoint window in open curiosity. He cursed. He wondered if he should request Rolf to just gas the demon-loving fools and get it over with. But no, that created poor optics, especially with the media and vital guests observing.
"Very well. But I'm putting it on your head to find a suitable location—one with a very scenic view," Sunbearer said. "Hop to it."
With a sardonic nod, the police chief left. Inwardly, Sunbearer stewed, swearing he'd make sure Rolf wouldn't survive to the next election. Still, that solved one problem. Some foolish protesters wouldn't ruin his perfect night.
He smirked to himself, pleased as he rejoined the party, all smiles. As a prominent senator made a joke, Sunbearer gave a genuine laugh, happier than he'd been in years. Finally, his life was going the course he'd always wanted. There was nothing else that might ruin this party.
///
"Okay, we're in," Jafia said after sliding into the maintenance hatch. Thanks to the distraction caused by Kallane's makeshift protest and the sudden rush to move the airship, they slipped in disguised as maintenance workers. But they couldn't count their good luck yet—it wouldn't be long until someone noticed the extra passengers.
"You better do some damage. The police aren't particularly friendly out here," Kallane said through her comm.
"We'll create plenty of fireworks," Rojan said, beaming. Beside him, Nitao slipped in, silent as a shadow. Jafia started—she hadn't seen him come in. How the heck had he done that? She gave Rojan a questioning look. Nitao accompanying them hadn't been part of the plan.
"I told Nitao to follow you. Sure, he's a Konquellian, but he'd still draw less attention than an Ottomon," Kallane said, reading their thoughts. "I'm not letting you go in alone."
"Just go with it," Rojan said, shrugging. It was too late to complain. Besides, the Konquellian man had already proven his capabilities by somehow slipping in without a disguise.
"Okay. See you soon," Jafia said.
"Break a leg." Kallane paused, her voice becoming more tense. "You better come back. It'd upset Rocke if you didn't. May the Sovereign guide your path."
"Thanks. Over and out." Despite her usual hostility, Jafia could sense Kallane was worried about her.
Thanks to their prep work, they had a solid understanding of the ship's inner workings. But they had quite an ordeal ahead of them. The place was crawling with workers and security, Rolf's presence complicating matters even further. And Jafia would complete this mission—whatever the cost, even her own life. For Rocke's sake.
"Okay, let's go."