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“You’re holding off on actual clanship until you’re done as governor?” Rosa sipped the last of her wine.
“Maybe longer, depending on how much influence I can continue to wield. The Earthtiques seem to be coming out of the woodwork lately.” Stacy sighed.
“In that case, I have a piece of advice for you: keep Kuran happy and close.”
* * * *
Alpha Space Station
Blythe Nelson arrived on the station’s promenade deck and looked around. Kalquorians teemed, as the station’s day-shift hours had recently closed. She wondered at the anonymous summons that had brought her on board Earth II’s orbiting neighbor at such a time, when it would be easy for the contact to be seen in her presence.
He could be any of the muscled black-haired men walking past, except for the curious and sometimes surprised glances they gave her. Governor Nichols’ frequent visits aside, few Earthers came on board. She wondered if Nichols experienced the same sense of smallness among the behemoth race.
Blythe resolutely pushed aside the fluttery nervous feeling in her stomach. Her chin lifted, and she affected calm assurance. She wandered among the Kalquorians sauntering the walkway between shops, dining places, and entertainment clubs after work.
Her thoughts turned to her difficulties on Earth II. She was gathering tantalizing information and rumors, but little in the way of hard evidence of corruption from the current leaders. So many records had been lost when the original Earth had died, and what was left was like putting together a puzzle lacking half its pieces.
She particularly needed an in where Mitchell’s past activities on Mercy Colony were concerned. Her current source for records hadn’t lived on Mercy and couldn’t offer her access to those files. Her contacts in Galactic Council space were similarly blocked.
The text that afternoon from an anonymous messenger had been her first hope of finding out if the General Assembly’s speaker had indeed indulged in scandalous behavior with his interns…and perhaps murdered one. It had readwe need to talk about Cal Mitchell. Meet me on the promenade aboard Alpha.
She wasn’t surprised a Kalquorian might have information no one else could find. They were known for their intelligence and ability to break codes. Only Earth’s old Church records had proven impossible to breach. Her Earther source had been forthcoming with the passcodes he’d recorded. As far as Blythe knew, she was the sole person he’d entrusted them to.
Mitchell didn’t appear in them. She had to get her hands on everything she could from Mercy.
Where are you?Her attempts to message the contact had met with no success. She had no idea whom she looked for. She walked down the middle of the promenade’s concourse, her head swiveling from side to side as she tried to determine who might have been behind the message she’d received.
The men sweeping past her didn’t bother her despite their fascinated stares. She was obviously looking for someone in particular. She was also known on the station…the journalist who was always on the hunt for a scandal to report on. The fact no vid-drone accompanied her for a change didn’t seem to matter. She was public relations trouble, and the station’s residents knew it.
“Thank you for coming, Matara Blythe.”
Blythe took pride in not jumping or yelping in surprise. She’d had a suspicion her contact would sneak up on her. He’d done so silently, so she was prepared to deal with a Nobek as she halted and turned to face him.
“You.” She scowled, but her heart jumped a little at the ruggedly handsome and familiar face hovering over her.
Nobek Selt smiled and dipped a slight bow. “You remember me.”
“As if I’d forget. I had to do some fast talking to get out of paying my boss back for the vid-drone you smashed. More of it to the stationmaster to be allowed to return and report on the goings-on here.”
“You were in an area barred to reporters and their recording equipment.” No sign of apology, the jerk.
“People have a right to be told what their leaders are up to.” She’d caught Stacy Nichols leaving Clan Rihep’s quarters before the relationship had become common knowledge. Like the governor’s affairs prior to Clan Rihep, Blythe had missed the chance to break the story, which would have elevated her at the news bureau despite the boys’ club attempts to keep her relegated to the society pages.
“People also have a right to live their private lives as long as it does no harm to the public. I noticed you managed to capture an image of Admiral Piras in a public area. You scored your big story legally, at least where Kalquor is concerned.” Selt’s attitude was pointed, yet somehow gentle.
“Did you send me a message asking to meet?” Blythe demanded. She had the sick feeling she’d been lured to the station under false pretenses.
“I did. Let’s walk and discuss Speaker Mitchell.” He began to stride in the direction she’d been heading.
Blythe had to fumble with her handheld while trotting to keep up. “Hey, slow those long legs, would you?”
“Sorry.” Selt did slow, but she was still forced to walk fast.
“Can I audio record you, or will you break my handheld too?”
“Go ahead.” Was he smirking? As soon as she ordered her handheld to do so, he said, “You’re working a lot of angles on Earth’s leadership. Gathering secret information on Earthtiques and new-thinkers alike. Playing both ends is sticking yourself in a vice, don’t you think? You aren’t worried you’ll be hurt?”
Her gaze narrowed. “I’m a reporter. I have to discover everything about everyone.”
