After I left Kinky’s apartment, I ended up down by the space docks, at my favorite eating joint, the Templar Way Café, having a cup of centaurian coffee. Yeah, it was the real stuff. A pricey commodity to serve in a place setup for diner food, but they’d make me a pot when I showed up. Kept the knock-off stuff for the regular customers. The Templar Way Café had become my regular hang-out while I was looking for new digs. Word was out and landlords were very helpful until they heard my name, then they lost my number. NewerYork was growing, but my options for finding an office were shrinking.
I’d met a few clients at the café for lunch and it ended up becoming my temporary office. The owner, a Centaurian named Oolach, let me stake out a corner booth to call my own. Situated so I could keep an eye on the street, the front door and the back room. I could shield my tablet screen from other customers and watch all three.
Oolach liked me. I’d done him a favor, running down an ex-girlfriend that had taken him for about 100,000 creds. She wasn’t too bright, so finding her had been easy. Getting the 80,000 , that she hadn’t spent, away from her drug dealing pimp had been a little rougher. My GISI badge, even with the blue stripe, went a long way on Mars. My 1911 Colt went a lot further. When the pimp threatened me, I’d been able to bring it out to help influence the completion of the negotiations. He saw it my way rather quickly. When I returned the cash to Oolach, he used his family connections back in the Centaurian sector to keep me in my favorite coffee.
I was on my second cup when my comm buzzed. I looked at the ID and answered.
“Harry’s Mortuary and Whorehouse, if you like them dead, we’ve got the bed. Harry speaking.”
“Really? That’s how you answer a comm? No wonder you don’t get any business,” the voice said.
“Hello to you, too, Charlie,” I said. “What’s up? Run out of Slub hookers to roust? I know you like the hefty girls that ooze pheromone enhanced slime.”
“Yeah, Redge, I’m all about the two hundred kilo women that smell like rotten meat, sprouting two inch warts and enough back hair to knit three sweaters.”
“And a slime emitting tail.”
“Yes, let’s not forget that last little piece of hotness.”
“You were always about the tail, or that’s what I hear. Seriously, Charlie, what’s up?” I asked. Inspector Charles Land was the last partner I’d had before I left the GISI’s. Truth be told, he’d been more of a babysitter, since the word was out that I was going to blow the lid off the joint. Through all of it, we got along and stayed in touch.
“I was asked to get in contact with you for some work, but first, how’s Kinky?” Charlie asked. He’d been crushing on her from the first time he met her, but he was married. His lust had turned to genuine caring over the ensuing years.
“Doing better, physical rehab. She’s coming together nicely and there doesn’t seem to be any permanent damage. She’s at home now. Guess who her nurse is?”
“Your Mum,” Charlie said, laughing.
“How’d you—?”
“She checked in at the station when she got here. Probably out of habit, being a policeman’s wife for 50 years.”
“Yeah. Wait, you knew? You coulda warned me.”
He laughed a little harder. I informed him how much he sucked.
“Anyway, good for Kinky. She’s in good hands. A helluva a woman, give her my best.”
“I will,” I replied, still irritated. “About this work? Please tell me it’s not some flaky security gig,”
I’d rather go back to chasing bond jumpers than pull security.
“Well, it’s not security. Actually, there’s a couple of camps interested in you. Both of them Farkan. They’ve been asking for you, but I told them you were unavailable, what with Kinky and the bomb.”
The bomb. Syemour’s smug face came back to mind. My blood boiled.
“Farkans? Interesting. Got a number for me to call?”
“Nope. Just addresses. One is the Martian Waldorf Hotel and the other is the Farkan Embassy.”
“Embassy?” I said, my mind taking off. That meant official business. Probably wondering how much we knew about the sphere, or its whereabouts. I could easily sum that up by giving them the theft report from the transport ship.
“Names?”
“The hotel guy is Grumoph something or other,” Charlie said. “I can’t pronounce it. Goes by Gary when in human company. The embassy contact didn’t leave a name, just an unofficial request for your presence at the earliest convenience. It was the most official unofficial request I ever heard.”
Farkans were the glue holding the galactic commerce and interspecies alliance together. They were our benefactors. They were also very rigid in tradition, as well as secretive about most of their own social workings. Most races had no idea how their society worked, which made it extremely hard to get an advantage over them.
“I’ll talk to the Grumoph, or Gary, first,” I said. What’s the worst that could happen? Get in the middle of an interstellar incident that could jeopardize galactic relations on an historic scale? Naaah. It was me, so that wasn’t going to happen.
The NewerYork Martian Waldorf was modeled after the old hotel in New York city, but with an alien flair. The best of Earth shown to visitors that weren’t allowed to traverse the last 140,000,000 miles to actually land there. It was a growing list of races, since we did not have treaties with most of the known galaxy. We were still new to this. Mars was a free trade zone. A place to meet new races on neutral ground. It was also the fastest growing colony we had.
On the way to the Waldorf, I swung by the old office to give Kamal an insurance check. Kevin was with me. Standing out in front of the building, we both looked down at the plaque. The one that marked the spot where the sword of Jacques de Molay, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, had been found by a Mars rover. The spot that changed the course of human history. It was also the spot where Kinky and I had almost died. The last place we’d seen Syemour Shelzz. I could still see bits of my dried blood clinging to the embossed lettering.
We grabbed a tram to downtown. We arrived at the Waldorf and I asked for Gary at the desk. A phone call, ID check and armed escort later, Kevin and I stood in the sitting room of a penthouse suite. Kevin was trying to play it cool, stealing glances at the opulent surroundings while focusing intently on the tiny screen of his comm.
Kevin was catching up on recorded baseball games he’d missed while we were traveling. Baseball was one of three things from Earth, besides chocolate and banging earthlings, that the Denubians were nuts about. America’s pass time. Banned from Earth, Denubes had never been to a game, but they followed the sport remotely. They’re rabid fans of their chosen teams. Kevin’s being the Houston Astros. I’m a football man myself, but to each their own.
“Gentlemen, please be seated,” said the Farkan that entered the room. As we sat, I looked over our host.
He was tall for a Farkan, just over 5’6”. He wore traditional tiger-like patterned leather pants, his over-shirt tied around his waist as a belt, exposing his upper torso. His amphibian features were pronounced. Bulging eyes on top of his flat head, wide mouth, rubbery lips and slotted irises. A white belly and waxy skin made him seem more frog than man-like. Figuring an age was usually a guess, but his walk and body carriage told me he was young. That was somewhat offset by the solid black color of his back patch. Young Farkan backs are covered in spots, a natural camouflage on their swampy home world. As they got older, the gaps filled in, spots merged, until an elder had a solid back patch. I’d only met a few full patch Farkans and they didn’t move like Gary.
“Hello, I am Geruine M’ponth. You may call me Gary. Would you like something to eat or drink?” Gary asked, the “m” sound having an additional pop.
“You asked for this meeting, we’re on your dime,” I replied.
Gary looked me up and down, then glanced at Kevin. His surprised look told me he’d done a background check on me. Kevin hadn’t been factored in. Good.
“I was told you like to get right to the point, Inspector MacDonald.”
“Ex-Inspector. Just Mister,” I corrected.
“Of course,” Gary replied. “You’re well regarded by our security organizations and come highly recommended.”
“The Farkan SecGroup and I did some good work. I liked working with them. Straight shooters.”
“Yes, they are that,” Garry said. “And they refuse to become embroiled in any internal political entanglements. I suppose that is a good and a bad thing.”
“I don’t follow,” I said, curiosity overriding the urge to politely extract myself from becoming involved. If the Farkan SecGroup stayed out of whatever was going on, it was a smart move for me to follow their lead.
“I will elaborate. Mr. MacDonald, someone has systematically exterminated my family.”
He’d said it so matter-of-factly that it took a minute to get my head around it.
“Exterminated? That’s a little… I mean, you guys are on the top of the heap. No race in their right mind would go after a Farkan, much less an entire family,” I said, knowing that his reply was not going to be any more reassuring.
“The perpetrators are not from another race. If they were, they would all be dead. They are Farkan.”
“Okay, then, that is our cue to leave,” I said, tapping Kevin on the leg. “It was nice meeting you and we wish you the best.”
“Before you go, please let me tell my tale. A last request, if you will,” Gary said. “Unless my fortunes change dramatically in the next few days, I shall not see my next Emergence day.”
I should have left. I was standing and facing the right direction. Kevin was halfway to the door. I should have left. But I didn’t.
“Ok, talk,” I said, sitting back down, pointing at Kevin and then patting the spot next to me. He sat back down.
“I’m the last son of my father. A baron, if you will,” Gary began. “I was the last to emerge. A forgotten son, with no possibility of inheritance or placement, allowed to pursue my own interests. I didn’t begrudge my older siblings their positions. They scattered into the corporations the family owned, each knowing their place in the world. My father had wed above his station, as had my departed grandfather. They’d worked their way into the outer edges of the royal line, the Barony of M’ponth was born. I was 58th in the line of succession to my father. He died in an explosion at a methane facility late last year. His mantle passed to my eldest brother. He was to begin courting our queen this year. Then he died in an accident.”
“My sympathy, but accidents happen,” I said, sitting back.
“Yes, they do. And accidents happened fifty-five more times in the span of the last year. Our holdings and companies are only mildly affected, since we have competent vassals to fill the positions held by my brothers, but they’re all dead. I would be, as well, if I hadn’t been out of reach.”
“How’s that?” I asked.
“I pursued the arts. Painting, sculpture, dance and poetry. Working with indigenous peoples in their various mediums. Even Earth. That’s where I discovered my interest in your music.”
“Great. I like Earth music as well. Late 20th century stuff,” I added.
“Oh, I enjoy listening to all kinds of Terran music, but the one I fell in love with was the one I could participate in. It’s known as Tibetan throat singing. Have you heard of it?”
Before I could answer, Gary continued in his excitement to talk about the art of throat singing.
“Multiphonic rhythms and chords generated with nothing but the vocal chords. The Farkan throat is made for it. I was in a Tibetan monastery for the last two years learning the method and songs, becoming immersed in the culture. I believe it saved me.”
“Because they couldn’t find you or get to you?”
“Exactly. But during that time, they were able to steal a great prize from our family. They smuggled it off Fark, but the minions of my opposition didn’t choose their allies carefully enough. Thieves stole from thieves. They began making inquiries as to its value. My security tells me a deal was being struck when the prize could not be produced.”
“A mualtholu, a crystal sphere,” I said.
“So, you know of it and have seen it?” Gary asked, excitedly leaning in, staring intently.
“Yes, I recently had it in my possession, but it was stolen right out from under my nose,” I said.
“Was it?” Gary replied, popping his lips rapidly. “I think not. A team working for a man named Peroni followed you from Hephaestus and stole the bag in transit. I, in turn, took it from them. What I found inside was a replica made with a 3D glass printer. A layman would not have known the difference, but my proxy knew immediately.”
“Interesting. So, where do you think it is?”
“You have it, Mr. MacDonald. Or, if not you, a proxy, perhaps Miss Leonard?”
“And if we did?”
“Then I would ask for its return, and soon. There is great turmoil in Farkan politics right now. I’ll not go into details, but suffice to say, you must place the sphere in my hands within thirty-two of your hours.”
“Let’s say I can’t do that. Then what?”
“Myself, and my line, will be ended shortly after that deadline, I have no doubt.”
“Gary, you admitted you stole it from us and a lot of people are dropping like flies. Maybe you’re the bad guy. Maybe you need to go away,” I said.
“Mr. MacDonald, I did not steal it from you. We followed the team that led us to you and took them out when we acquired the fake. If they had survived, they would have reacquired you and forced the truth from you. I will not. I have done nothing to harm or interfere with you, and I won’t. I have an appreciation of the human race that my contemporaries may not. I leave it to you, you can give me my family’s mualtholu or not,” Gary said.
“I’ll think on it,” I said.
“Maybe I can aid your decision,” Gary said, reaching for a bone knife on the serving tray. He cut his hand and let the deep red blood drip onto a white napkin. He rolled up the napkin and wrapped it in some of the plastic film that had covered the food.
“Compare my DNA to the DNA you will find on the polish cloth, the one missing from the Toga box. I assume you continued to use it to protect the mualtholu? You will find it matches within one generation. My Father. I hope it aids in your decision. Now, you probably have another meeting to go to.”
Gary stood, handed me the plastic wrapped cloth, bowed slightly and left the room.
“M’gonna pretend I’s never here,” Kevin said.
“Me too,” I agreed and we left.
My next stop was going to be the Farkan Embassy, but first, we stopped at the Martian branch of the 1st Interstellar Bank. I accessed my safety deposit box and we left. We got outside and I handed Kevin two plastic bags, each containing pieces of cloth. I’d called ahead and Charlie met us out front.
“Hey, Charlie, this is Kevin,” I said, pointing at the kid.
“Nice to meet you,” Charlie said, a look of curiosity on his face. He extended his hand. Kevin shook it and smiled.
“Charlie, can you keep the kid with you for a while? He has a couple of samples I want you to run and I think some bad people may be eyeing us. He’s better off hanging with you right now.”
“How long?”
“Just until I get done with a few meetings, then I’ll pick him up.”
“Good enough. Don’t do anything stupid. Come on, Kevin,” Charlie said, as they got in his car. “Do you like baseball?”
Kevin smiled and gave me a thumbs up.
The Farkan embassy was normal enough from the outside. Most of NewerYork’s buildings have an outside facade reminiscent of brownstones or Victorian buildings, but the construction methods and materials were all modern.
“Name and ID please,” the Farkan behind the suppression shield asked.
“Redge…Reginald MacDonald,” I said, showing my GISI retiree ID and badge.
“Who are you here to— ah, yes.. Your escort will be here shortly. Please place any personal effects in the bin and walk through the scanner. We will be holding your weapon.”
“Tell whoever invited me that they can meet me at my office. I’m retired GISI. Nobody tells me to hand over Betsy. Good day, sir.”
The Farkan looked confused.
“Sir, due to the sensitivity of the person you’re meeting with, you cannot—“
“I said good day.” Maybe a little louder than I intended, as I turned to leave.
“Hold on please,” the guard said, looking at his screen. ”I am being told that you may proceed, but please avoid drawing your weapon on the premises.”
“I always want to avoid that,” I replied and walked through the scanner, the alarms going off. I ignored them.
A Farkan escort arrived. He carried himself like a military type, and his clothes appeared to be business attire, but I could see the armor panels outlined underneath. He was heavy security made up to look normal. And he was armed.
They really didn’t like me being armed in their building, but I was ex-GISI and that meant they couldn’t and shouldn’t stop me. Their rules, not mine.
We went down a flight of stairs and passed through two sets of blast doors before entering a larger, high ceiling room. The humidity was up significantly and live trees grew along each wall, giving the illusion of a deep forest setting. Clear plasteel panels made up most of the roof, their lensing effect intensifying the sunlight. At the far end of the room rested a giant pool of water, with fountains and waterfalls along its edges. In the middle of the pool was a hump of sand, rising six inches above the surface. A single wooden chair occupied the little island. Toga wood, if I had to guess.
The escort pointed toward the pond, turned and left. I walked further into the room, stopping at the edge of the water. The water rippled to one side, under a waterfall, and a Farkan female rose out of the water. She was much larger than any male I had met, nearly six feet tall and at least 180 pounds. She didn’t have on any clothing, but scooped up some cloth when she stepped out onto the dry sand. She pulled the tunic style dress over herself and smoothed it into place before walking to the chair. When she had emerged, I noticed that her back was solid black, with numerous bowl-shaped indentations, approximately 2” in diameter, spread across her lower back.
“Good afternoon, Mr. MacDonald,” she said, turning toward me with an intense stare. “I am Queen Banuttrine of the Farkan Imperium and I would have words with you.”
I just about shit myself. I’d met ambassadors and bureaucrats before. That’s what I had expected today. When you’re GISI, you travel the galaxy following leads, solving crimes and spreading good will, meeting big wigs is part of the job. I’m a worldly guy and it took a lot to impress me. At that point, I was speechless. The bullshit about carrying Betsy suddenly made sense. Alone in a room with the most powerful being in the known galaxy. And she knew my name. My “Oh shit” radar started going off.
“I assume we are not alone?” I asked, looking around the faux forest setting.
“You remain armed and I am never alone, but we will not be disturbed. Please, sit down,” she said, sitting down on the sand and crossing her legs, rather than sitting in the chair.
I sat down in the sand as well, the pond separating us. The acoustics of the room seemed to improve, as the waterfalls’ flow reduced under some unseen manipulation.
“That’s better,” she said. “I would offer you food and drink, but I am not sure about your preferences.”
”Not to put too fine a point on it, your majesty, but I think you’re very familiar with my preferences, probably from my favorite drink in first grade to the type of deodorant I used last week, otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting this close to you.”
She laughed and popped her lips.
“True, yes, that is rather obvious, I apologize. Small talk has never been a skill I mastered,” she said, leaning forward. “I would rather skip the pleasantries and have a blunt conversation with you, if that is to your liking.”
“Actually, your majesty, that seems to be the only kind I have lately,” I replied.
“Good. How familiar are you with Farkan royalty and political structure?”
“A little. There’s a queen, a lot of baronies and a full elected senate. Most of the financial power lies with the barons and the legal power in the Senate. The queen can’t make decrees, but commands the military and exploratory fleets. She can overrule the courts, I believe,” I said, regurgitating the information given to GISI’s during indoctrination.
“Very good. I am also in charge of the entire diplomatic core and all treaties. I personally told the Farkan tribunal that any ruling not completely in favor of humanity over the Denubian cacao thefts would be vacated. They saw it my way.”
“Thanks for that, by the way,” I said, giving a thumbs up. It was true. You could take the boy out of Philly, but you can’t take Philly out of the boy. I was an idiot.
“For my people, I am expected to be the cultural protector of Farkan traditions. One of which is producing the next queen.”
“That makes sense,” I said, not knowing where the conversation was going.
“I think you need to understand the magnitude of that last statement. I have read Earth history. There was a female named Elizabeth. She was the ruler of one of your territories, referred to as the virgin queen, was she not?”
“Yes. England, a few hundred years ago. But she wasn’t a virgin, she just refused to marry. Actually, if you wanted to talk English royal lineage, you should meet my mum. She would bend your ear for hours.”
“I am sure. Maybe I can meet her later, but for now, that particular monarch has a parallel with myself. I am a virgin queen, since I have not been able to find a suitable mate, and therefore, I have no offspring. There is no line of succession.”
“Your majesty, I’m not sure where this is going but I don’t know many eligible Farkan bachelors.”
“Nor would your effort be of benefit in the search. The ability to sway me is more dependent on genetics and physiological response than any willful thought. When I meet the right male, with the right song, I will feel it deep in my being. It will be as if a lock is released.”
“If I can be indelicate, are you worried about the clock? Getting too old to have—um, babies?”
“No, I can bear them up to a very old age, but I want to serve as a guide, live long enough to be a good First Matron to my daughter.”
“A what?”
“The First Matron. When the new queen is chosen by Thahithir, the spirit of nature, and emerges from the swamp, the virgin queen becomes the first matron, ruling the Imperium until the emerging queen’s majority. After ascension, the matron handles the day to day, acting as a chancellor, advisor and administrator, while the queen looks out for the Imperium. My mother, the previous queen, is my First Matron.”
“Ya gotta be careful about working with family,” I said. “I have a brother back in Philly that’s a cop and I haven’t spoken to him in years.” I must have been flustered, airing my family laundry, like the most powerful being in the known universe really cared.
“I am fertile for a few months every eight of your years. The last four cycles, no Barony has put forth a suitor capable of inspiring me. The family’s present their sons in order of lineage, eldest sons in the first round, all the way to the last son of the lowest Barony in the last round of that cycle. Their order is determined by stockholder tier status in the Farkan Galactic Trade guild. I am on the fourth tier of baronies with this cycle. There is none left. “
“You have no control in the choice?”
“None. The most powerful houses are no longer in consideration, as of two cycles ago. The fourth tier houses are excited about gaining access to the royal line and it is causing quite a lot of infighting. If none of them succeeds, there will be an open call for suitors in eight more years. There will be turmoil as families’ trade or get into conflicts to acquire—.”
“Acquire? What?”
“You know what. The key to unlocking my heart. You have the key,” she said, staring at me.
“I told you that I don’t know any—“
“The M’ponth family mualtholu. It is my best chance,” she said, her tone becoming somewhat pleading.
“Why? Why not another mualtholu?” I asked, leaning forward, putting on my GISI interrogator face.
“It is said to be perfect. It makes the purest of sound, the deepest tone and the richest tapestry of chords. The Barons of M’ponth married well above their tier with its strength. In the right hands, it will inspire me. Release me. The M’ponth family has been destroyed by those who seek it, which I regret. Others want to acquire it, but I am told that the mualtholu is in your possession. I implore you to give it over to me and let me choose my mate for the good of the imperium. To prevent further bloodshed through intrigue.”
“Murder, murder, polis three stairs up, the wummin in the middle hoose hit me wae a cup.” I said.
“What? I don’t understand,” she replied.
“My mum used to hum that. She’s a cop’s wife. Stuck with me all these years. Means to mind where you look for the bad guys. Don’t climb too high when they’re right under your feet. If I did have it, and I am not saying I do, who would you give it to?”
“My matron suggests I consider the first tier baronies and give it as a gift to Baron Kurtlapt. His eldest son is financially powerful and well regarded. His other sons have seats in the Senate. But that would be in another eight years, since my cycle is just about done.”
“Pardon my bluntness, your majesty, but that seems like you’re making a powerful family that much more powerful. Is that a good idea?”
“I don’t know, but I am at a loss for any other solution. I will not let this escalate. There has been enough bloodshed.”
“Wow. I had no idea that Farkans are just as screwed up as the rest of us. Kinda hits you in the gut. I need to think on this. May I leave?”
“Yes. Please do not take too long. I am only fertile for another thirty hours.”
“So, what difference does it make? All of your suitors are back on Fark.”
“No, once I came here, they were all driven to follow,” she said.
“It’s gonna be a party, then? If I were to know where the mualtholu is, and decided to bring it to you, how to I avoid getting killed? Or the sphere being confiscated at the door?” I asked, wondering how genuinely concerned she was about her people.
“I’ll leave word at the entry, if you should return. You’re not to be hindered. Bring whatever security you feel is appropriate. You are GISI, so you can be trusted.”
”I’ll think about it,” I said, as I stood and bowed, turning to the door. I didn’t go straight to the GISI station. I needed to get educated on Farkan traditions and visit some other folks first.
Three hours after my meeting with the queen, I picked up Kevin at the GISI headquarters. It was total chaos. Over two hundred Farkan private yachts were in various states of orbit around Mars, with shuttles from the orbital station to NewerYork dropping every few minutes. Ground control was going nuts and providing security for that many high profile visitors was stretching the planetary law enforcement resources. Things were getting complex.
When he handed off Kevin, Charlie had given me a piece of paper with the test results on it.
“What’s it mean?” he asked.
“Means I got a decision to make,” I said.
My comm dinged. It read “Message received. Hitting the road.”
It was Eglin. He’d arrived at his first destination. The hint was from a billboard at the terminal right next to a GISI recruiter poster. You couldn’t miss it. “A man must find his own road…” It’s an ad for a travel agency. I hoped he was going to take it to heart. No need to comm back, since he’d have already tossed the comm.
After my next couple of stops, I comm’d the embassy with my guest list for the next evening, even the time I’d be arriving. Then I comm’d Kinky to let her know she and my Mom were going with me to a meeting the next day, but not why. My new strategy was never pass up a chance to introduce your friends and family to royalty. I figured that makes any turkey day story your brothers may tell pale, in comparison, with introducing your mum to an actual queen.
The next evening, Kevin and I hopped the tram, he in his letterman’s jacket and me in my everyday suit. This was work, after all. After a thirty minute ride, with the obligatory “who was the greatest hitter” argument, Kevin and I walked into Kinky’s apartment. The place was a disaster. Clothes were everywhere and there were strange people running from room to room.
“Yo, Kinks? Mum?” I yelled. When no response was forthcoming, I yelled louder.
“Where the hell are you dames? Charity Leonard and Margaret Ann Molehusband-MacDonald answer me!”
“Oh, clamp yer pucker, Reginald,” my mother’s Scottish accent cutting through the rabble like a knife, “we’re doin’ somethin’ important. In the meantime, you and the blue fella get inna the tuxedos I set out for ye.”
This time I bellowed.
“Everybody freeze! Nobody move or I will shoot them. Kinky and Mum, front and center. Kevin, block the door.”
I pulled my jacket to the side so the guests all saw my badge and gun. They stopped talking and stood still, as if unsure how to proceed. Since they had met my mother, I was assuming they were trying to decide which thing they should fear more, the guy with the gun or the crazy Scottish lady with the broom. It was probably close, but I won that round.
Kinky came out of the room in a sheer bra and barely-there thong. I covered Kevin’s eyes with my free hand and looked skyward.
“What the hell Kinks? Where are your clothes?”
“Out here, duh, ya mook. We’re gettin’ ready for the party.”
My head hurt and my neck was getting tight as I looked for places to stare that did not include the fine form of Kinky’s well-proportioned and semi-naked body. I realized too late that looking at the spare room door was a mistake, as my Mom walked out in a slip and curlers.
“MOM! Jesus H. Christ! Put something on. Nobody wants to see that!” I yelled as I spun Kevin around so that he faced the opposite wall. The little shit was laughing.
“Ya’re father wants to see it on a pretty regular basis, boyo. He’s randier than a spring bull now that he’s retired. We’re hittin’ the sheets more’n yer are, I’ll bet.”
“He’s pretty repressed lately, Maggie,” Kinky chimed in. “I’d throw one his way, but he’d get all serious and be ruined for other gals.”
“Don’t ye be settling for less than ye deserve, dear,” my mom said, waggling a finger at Kinky. ”Ye are ta good fer the likes o’ ‘im. He can find someone else ta rut around on.”
“Mom, just shut up. I’m going to need therapy for a year as it is,” I said, pushing Kevin in the back. “Jeez, put on a robe, Kinks, and tell me…what party?”
Kinky bent over in front of me and picked up her robe. That did not help.
“A messenger arrived, all official lookin’,” she said as she pulled on the robe. “He gave us invitations and was emphatic that her majesty, the Queen of Fark, is looking forward to our attendance.”
My “Oh shit” radar was pinging like a hummingbird’s heart on meth. So was my real heart, as Kinky reached into her robe, wiggled slightly, and withdrew her undergarments, tossing them to the floor.
“It’s not a party, it’s a ceremony. A get together. Very official. No need to go hog wild,” I said.
“The Farkan queen sent an invitation that called it an affair, which is rich folk for party. I can’t believe she’s here on Mars. They’re having a reception at the embassy and somehow we got invited. It’s not formal, but that don’t mean I can’t dress to the nines,” Kinky said, rapidly batting her eyelashes. “I got a new outfit and haven’t been out in ages. Oh, and I’m going commando. No panty lines to mess with the dress.”
I guess my jaw dropped. Maybe my head exploded. Either way, my feet stayed put.
“I got nothing to wear and my apartment’s across town,” I said, hoping to slow the train.
“We had ‘em deliver ya some suits, ya mook,” Kinky continued, as she picked up a red silk dress and held it against her.
“I told ye he’d wark in lookin’ like a hobo, didna I?” my mom said to Kinky, over her shoulder, as she headed for her room.
“Yep. Now, get outta here and get dressed,” Kinky said, as she reached up to remove her robe. “Take blue and gruesome wit’ ya.”
Kevin flinched at the name, but he was developing a thick blue skin paying his Kinky dues.
“Come on, Kevin, let’s go see what they picked out for us.”
I looked down at the clothes laid out on the bed and yelled some more. Sometimes, I hate my mother.
Kevin and I stood outside of Kinky’s building, waiting for the limo. We both wore black tuxedo jackets, black ties and silk shirts. Mine had been cut right, since Betsy didn’t even create a bulge. Our cummerbunds had the same tartan pattern, the MacDonald family colors. I would have said we made a sharp dressed pair, except for one thing, our matching kilts. Kilts. Not pants.
“M’still don get. Why M’wearin’ dresses?”
“Not a dress,” I said, for the tenth time. “A kilt. Like a skirt, but for men, It’s traditional. It’s manly, damnit.”
“M’gon go put pant on, M’Redge. This ta weird.”
“Shut up and wear it. You don’t want to fight my mom on this.”
The limo pulled up and I comm’d Kinky.
“Your majesty, it’s time for you to get your ass downstairs so we can go meet a real queen.”
“Bite me, kilt boy. By the way, nice legs.”
“I hate you. You know that don’t you?”
“Nah, ya love me. Down in a jiff.”
Kinky came through the door looking like a goddess. The red dress clung to her by magic, her body bouncing just the right amount with each step, the dress clinging and shimmering over each curve. A slight breeze would have moved the draped sheer fabric enough to expose her feminine wiles, but the breeze never came and the dress moved with her, teasing the eyes and the mind.
My mom came out in a little more conservative attire, but still beautiful. The blue dress was lower cut than I thought it should be and showing way too much leg. And she was in heels. My mom should not be in heels. She seemed pleased with the look, so I gave her a scowl, then a smile.
I looked at the driver as he held the door for us. “1st Interstellar Bank, my good man”
The ride to the bank was nice and my mum actually drank some of the champagne that the limo service provided. We arrived at the bank just as two GISI sedans pulled up. I got out and waved.
“Hey Charlie, glad you could make it,” I said.
“Looking forward to this,” he said. “I would say you owed me, but I think being invited to meet the Queen of Fark makes us even.”
“Good man,” I said, going into the bank. I came out a few minutes later, a six by six plastanium lockbox in my hands. Charlie and four GISI regulars in body armor waited outside. They escorted me to the car. The mualtholu was not going to disappear this late in the game.
“Can I see it?” Kinky asked.
“Nope. Nobody opens this box,” I said. “Not for any reason.”
We arrived at the embassy and the GISI escort surrounded our car. Charlie got out of his car with my other guest, Gary. Charlie’s eyes popped and his jaw dropped when Kinky rose out of the back seat in her slinky red dress. That bastard’s poor wife was going to pay for the encounter later that night.
We all went inside, and good to the queen’s word, nobody got near us. There were signs to guide the guests, but I knew where we were going. The giant atrium.
As we entered the “swamp” room, a hush fell over the hundreds of guests. It radiated out from us as more Farkans became aware of our presence. The noise dimmed, I heard rumbling, melodic sounds from near the edge of the pond.
A Farkan male, some spots still visible in his back patch, stood with his toes touching the water, a sphere to his throat, singing a harmonious blend of sounds from his family’s mualtholu. The queen listened intently, leaning forward. She politely clapped as he finished, but gave no indication that she’d been swayed.
“Gary, you stay close to Kinky and Kevin,” I said.
“That may not be safe for them,” Gary replied.
“Probably, but they know the dangers, kid. Them and the GISI’s are the only ones I trust in this room right now,” I said, nodding my head and I proceeded toward the edge of the pond with my GISI escort.
“Reginald, what’re ye up ta’? Don’ya dare embarrass ya’re mum.” my mom said.
“Hush, Mom I’m working here. Stay right behind Kinky.”
“Welcome, Mr. MacDonald,” the queen said, all Farkan eyes turning toward me as I approached the pond.
“Your majesty,” I said, bowing my head. As I reached the edge, the GISI escort turned outward, their hands resting on their weapon’s grips. Not drawn, but ready. They scanned the crowd continually.
“I assume that is the item which we discussed?” she said, eyes focusing on the box in my hands. “Did you decide what to do with teh mualtholu?” There was a murmur through the crowd. “Human with a mualtholu? How?” and “Heard he’s ex-GISI. What’s he doing with it?”.
“I did decide,” I replied. “But I’d like to explain my reasoning.”
“There is no need,” said the largest Farkan female in attendance. “I will hold that for the queen.”
“You must be the First Matron,” I said. “How about you stay put while I explain.”
“The queen has listened to the solicitors and none were worthy, so there is no need,” the matron said. “This is a Farkan matter and you are out of your depth here, human.”
“Maybe, but it’s my show right now, Matron,” I replied, giving the queen a low key thumbs up and pleading with my eyes for indulgence. She nodded. “Hey Kinky, I finally get to do the thing.”
“Yeah, Redge, I see,” I heard her say from well behind me.”Ya might wanna move it along. We may not be as welcome as ya think.”
In our slow times, I often lamented, to Kinky, that I never have that final scene with the clients, where I get to explain my brilliant detective work in front of them, exposing the real culprit in an “Ah-ha” moment. That only happened in the movies. Until now.
“I did make a decision, as I said, but I think it bears explaining,” I said, to the queen, but loud enough for others to hear. “Farkans are the bastion of conformity, upholding galactic law. They’re the rock on which the galaxy is anchored. That’s a given. A stable Fark is a stable universe. But individuals are the same all over the galaxy. By that I mean self-centered greedy shits.”
The murmuring increased, along with a few gasps. “Ignorant human” was called out a few times.
“Are you implying that I―,” the queen started to say.
“No, your Majesty. In this entire play, there were only two of you shooting straight. May I continue?”
“Please.”
“I had to figure out who would benefit from the events occurring like they did. Which players get what? Geruine M’ponth’s part was easy. He gets dead. I don’t think that his participation was beneficial to him or voluntary.”
“I agree,” came a voice from behind Kinky.
“I got this, Gary!”
“Sorry, Mr. MacDonald,” Gary replied.
“Where was I? Oh, yeah, your majesty. I believe you genuinely wants to produce heirs and do the right thing for Fark. You’re just trying to honor tradition and dealing with the circumstances as they present themselves, so you don’t make my list.”
“I agree,” the queen said, echoing Gary’s response. “So, who benefits and how did that shape your decision?”
“That’s easy. The person that arranged this whole thing is―”
That’s when I heard Kevin yell “No!” and the lights went out. There were screams, then yelling, then more screaming. I didn’t move.
“Get those lights on NOW!” I heard the queen say. They came up, along with twenty heavily armed Farkans males entering the room from various corners. They drew down on everybody.
I looked back at Kinky. She stood in front of Gary, her arms in a defensive posture, straight lines, oozing blood, cut into her palms.
She pointed in opposite directions. In each direction, a Farkan lay on the ground, a bone knife in his shoulder.
“Wetware works” she said loudly. “They threw at the same time. Means they practiced together. Caught ‘em and flipped ‘em back on the same trajectory,” she said, turning her hands to look at them. “That stings a little. Ya can use my recording at their trial.”
We heard a groan from behind Kinky. Kevin fell over, a knife in his chest.
“What the hell?” Kinky said as she turned to look at him.
“M’saw the Fark. Throws knife at m’Kink’s back. M’not let dat happs. This hurt,” Kevin said, staring at the protruding handle.
“Stupid kid,” Kinky said, reaching for him, but pulling back.
“Give a hand, lassy,” my mom said, as she dropped to her knees next to Kevin. “Let’s apply some pressure and call a cart. Mr. Gary, come here and hold up his head.”
Gary kneeled by Kevin and Kinky tore off a portion of her silk dress before dropping down to apply pressure.
“Careful, lass, jes press a wee bit on either side, don let it move,” my mum said.
“Everyone will remain still,” the queen roared. “Who are those men on the ground?”
“I can tell you without looking,” I said. “They are either related to or in the employ of Baron Kurtlapt.”
I heard croaks. Ok, to be honest, I was expecting a loud gasp, but the croaks were the best I would get with that crowd.
“Seize the Baron and his retinue,” the queen said. “He will pay for orchestrating this plot.”
“Excuse me, your highness, but he didn’t orchestrate it,” I said, turning back toward her. “He’s a stooge.”
“A stooge? What is a stooge?”
“A minion. A lackey. A dupe. He’s been paying criminals to act as proxies, but they double crossed him. He had to start using his own people, but they aren’t any good at being crooks. He’s an underling doing his master’s bidding.”
“He is a baron and answers to no one.”
“Oh, he answers to one person,” I replied, going into full-on GISI mode.”The person that holds the key to his progeny getting into the line of succession. The person that can keep his family at the center of commerce and feed them the inside track on everything going on that comes before the queen for the next eight years.”
“Mother,” the queen said, turning to the matron.
“Yep. Mom,” I said. “Ya gotta love ‘em, but they can be a pain in the ass.”
“I hear’d that, Reginald Hamish MacDonald. Ya’re nay to ol’ to git put ova ma knee.”
“You were meant to hear it, Mom,” I replied, then addressed the queen.
“She was going to let your time pass and hold the perfect mualtholu over the baron’s head for the next eight years, making sure he set her up for life after she was no longer matron. He gets access to the royal line, all the business she can feed him and she doesn’t end up living in a hut in the swamp.”
“It is the ex-matron’s duty to serve Thahithir and welcome the young as they emerge.”
“Yeah, like I said, live in a hut in the swamp. That was not for her. She wants to live the good life, and by extending your reign, she does.”
“It does not matter, human,” the matron said, with a hiss, pointing at the plastanium box at my feet. “Her time is upon her. The brood will expire in moments and she will have to have an open call. Your young protégé will never live to see it. You cannot stop that.”
The hall filled with a rumbling hum. A chordal melody so deep and so high at the same time, as to pull at my very soul. Pure emotion with a complex rhythmic pulse. Familiar, yet new. Music that actually touched all of my senses at the same time. Everyone was stuck, their legs frozen, but their heads turned, allowing the music to enter their ears equally, wash over and through them as it echoed and reverberated off the walls of the great hall. It was perfection.
I turned to the back of the room, where Gary held the M’ponth family mualtholu against his throat, walking toward the pond.
“Remember when I said I’d made the decision? Well, I had,” I said to the matron over my shoulder. “Meet my decision. Man, he’s pretty damned good.”
Interesting thing about Denubian males, they share some of the pregnancy time with the female, like our seahorses on earth. They have a pouch that is just pliable enough to hold a four inch sphere comfortably. Kevin had been holding the sphere since Hephaestus. LikeI told Kinky, we needed him.
I tore my eyes away from Gary and looked back at the queen. She’d stood and entered the pond, swimming, then walking to meet her new love at the water’s edge. Gary met her and she took his free hand. He continued his musical interlude as they both dipped beneath the water.
I watched and smiled. That’s when I thought about what they were doing under the water and seized the moment.
“Alright, everybody but security out of the room. Let’s give them some privacy, folks.”
“Prude,” I heard from a familiar voice. Kinky is just a little too relaxed about the entire subject.
The next time I saw the queen, she was leaving the embassy with Gary. She’d asked us to come down for a private ceremony before they departed for Fark. She’d flashed me the eggs attached to her back, each one with a tiny tadpole inside.
“They will have a taste for Mars when they get older,” she said. “They are drawn to the water that gave them birth.”
“I look forward to meeting all of my godchildren,” I replied. “Keep in touch.”
“We will, Mr. MacDonald. Please give my best to Miss Leonard and your mother. They are charming and interesting to say the least. We will, of course, be covering all of Kevin’s medical expenses. Give him our thanks, as well.“
“He’ll appreciate that,” I said, as I fondled the box in my hand. It contained a medal from the Queen of Fark for 1st Tier service to the Imperium. Basically, I was a baron, but a broke one. It also held a small sphere. Perfect, but not powerful enough to use in the ritual. A gift that had no value to anyone but me.
©2015 PiR8Productions
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