Unseen Friends, Unseen Foes

by Alcuin Fromm

Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7a, 7b

part 2

Hundreds of businessmen, merchants, diplomats, and robots from Olmenin and its neighboring star systems bustled about the cavernous foyer of the Imperial Embassy as the working day wound to a close. Through the milling throngs, Lemm saw Tinnoli rushing towards him.

“Ambassador,” said Tinnoli with a broad smile, “you made it. Please come with me.”

Tinnoli ushered Lemm across the foyer to an elevator, followed by the captain. He selected Floor 49, then turned to Lemm as they rode up. “As you can see, Olmenin is a very busy place. It’s the center of diplomacy, business, and trade for seven systems, with long-range connections and dealings throughout the galaxy. And now that Olmenin has joined the Empire, the connections and dealings have multiplied a hundredfold.”

“And you are the Secretary of the Interior for all those systems?”

Tinnoli laughed. “No, no, just Olmenin. But business is business, and you can’t accomplish anything without knowing many people and getting involved in many affairs. The key is to find the right people and the right affairs.”

Tinnoli gave Lemm a fatherly wink and smile as the elevator doors opened. He led Lemm down a carpeted hallway with transparent walls, lined by countless offices and cubicles. The transparent ceiling offered an unobstructed view of the city’s gorgeous skyline bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun and dominated by the monolithic Spaceport.

They stopped at an empty meeting room, a single table surrounded by chairs visible through the glass wall. The door slid open and Tinnoli motioned Lemm to enter. The captain moved to follow, but Tinnoli stood in the doorway, blocking his entrance.

“Just a brief private conversation, captain,” he said with a reassuring smile. “We won’t be long.”

The captain gave the room a quick inspection and, satisfied with the security, nodded. He stepped aside and stood at ease. The two men entered and the door hissed shut. Tinnoli walked to the far side of the table and selected a seat facing towards the cityscape. Lemm took the seat next to him. Both men sat and gazed out at the breathtaking view.

“I have an audio block on this room,” said Tinnoli in a radically altered voice. He sounded serious, tense, and exhausted, all his exuberance vanished. “So we can speak freely.”

Tinnoli took a deep breath. “I know who you are, Lemm. I’ve been tracking your ship ever since it entered the Olmenin System. I was the one who interfered to have your landing permission changed. I needed to talk to you before anyone else, and I can do that only in person. You’re not safe here, Lemm. Why did Yellevar send you?”

On the basis of all the information his father had provided him, Lemm had immediately recognized the man calling himself Tinnoli on the landing platform as Sill Vorna, the Ministry’s missing agent. But Lemm would not trust anyone without proof and assurances.

“Let me ask you a question first, Secretary Tinnoli. What momentous event happened on the thirty-ninth of Aullotair on the planet Griphinyia?”

Tinnoli scoffed. “That’s the code he chose? Your father is a vicious, merciless monster.” He sighed. “On the thirty-ninth of Aullotair, I was challenged to a duel by a Griphinyian intellectual after I insulted his arguments for the Revolution. The man died from a single blaster shot to the head, if I may boast my marksmanship, but we lost Griphinyia to the Revolutionaries within the year, and Yellevar has never let me live it down. He blames me, as if our incompetent Imperial diplomats were somehow faultless in the whole affair!”

He paused and then added, “Killing that fop probably didn’t help, though.”

Lemm nodded, almost satisfied, but not sufficiently. “One more test.”

“No, another one?”

“Just one word. Binky.”

Tinnoli’s face remained unchanged but his eyes glistened. He spoke softly. “The Ministry of Intelligence requires all its agents to submit to rigorous psychological evaluation. That’s partly to verify our soundness, but also partly to find these little bits of information that cannot be made up or simulated by counter-agents. I never expected the Ministry to have to use them, but I appreciate Yellevar’s caution.” He paused. “Binky was the nickname of my brother.”

He paused again, longer. “He passed away.”

The two men sat in silence.

“I’m sorry,” said Lemm finally, unable to think of anything consoling. When he had read Tinnoli’s dossier and all the private information about him, it had seemed distant and abstract, as if reading a fictional story. The reality of it was a different thing.

Tinnoli clenched his jaw, nodded, and wiped his eyes.

“He’s at peace with the Creator now. But you and I are in a very dangerous spot.” He lowered his voice to a bare whisper. “The Revolutionaries are here. Uln Xor is here.”

Lemm frowned and a pit opened in his stomach.

“The problem is,” continued Tinnoli, “I haven’t figured out where or in what capacity. I’ve intercepted enough transmissions to be certain of their presence, but I haven’t been able to decode much of anything. All I have are bits and pieces, everything encrypted, everything mysterious. Does calcann mean anything to you?”

Lemm shook his head.

“Well, me neither. But it means something to them.”

“Why haven’t you contacted the Ministry? The only reason I’m here and not on a starship where I belong is that you went silent.”

Tinnoli winced as if Lemm had struck him. “They’re on to me. They know I’m here, but not yet who I am. They’ve almost gotten me a dozen times, but my luck has held out this far. It’s going to run out sooner or later, though. All my anonymous comm accounts are being surveilled. All public channels are being surveilled. They’re just a half-step behind me. I can’t transmit anything off-world without it being intercepted.”

Tinnoli swept a glance around the office. “This is the single audio-shielded space I’ve been able to establish, but what good does it do if I don’t have a long-range booster to send anything?”

“What do you know about the Revolutionaries?” said Lemm.

“I know they’re embedded here. Their most likely plan is to sabotage the Relay Station.”

“Embedded where?”

Tinnoli shrugged. “Everywhere, probably. The Engineering Corps. The planetary government. There are a million possibilities. I must contact the Ministry to update them and request further instructions. Does your ship have a long-range Imperial comm booster?”

“Yes, but it would take days for a message to get to Jennok.”

Tinnoli chuckled.

“A delay of days is a large improvement over no communication at all. Your comm system is not compromised or being scrutinized. I need to get in touch with Yellevar immediately. Let us meet at your ship tonight. At timemark 2-12-2.”

Lemm nodded.

“We’d better get you back to your duties as Junior Ambassador before we draw any attention to ourselves,” said Tinnoli.

The two men stood and moved to the door. Tinnoli’s bright and charming smile returned. “And never, ever invest anything you can’t afford to lose,” he said loudly, slapping Lemm on the shoulder as the door opened. “Take it from a man experienced in losing money.” Tinnoli burst into laughter so boisterous Lemm felt tempted to believe it.

“Thank you, Secretary Tinnoli, your advice has been most helpful.”

They shook hands and Lemm walked back to the elevator with the captain close on his heels.

* * *

Lemm heard the commotion on the ground floor even before the elevator doors slid open. What had been a foyer bustling with people and robots had become a no-man’s-land between two opposing armies. Emptied in its center, the foyer was flanked on one side by a line of security guards, armed with shocksticks, and a shouting, tumultuous throng on the other. Lemm turned a quizzical gaze to the captain.

“What is this all about?” asked Lemm.

The wide-eyed captain trembled. “Protestors, Ambassador. This has been happening more and more. They’re protesting what they say is oppressive treatment by the Imperials and the Olmeninian hierarchy.”

A rock arced out of the crowd and landed short of the security guards.

“They’re definitely not oppressed right now.”

The captain did not respond as he stared dumbly at the enormous mob. Voices began chanting.

“Is that the Irethian language? What are they saying?”

“Im ran nethrilli,” said the captain. “Forward the revolution.”

The mob inched forward as the guards inched backwards. Captain Fengrick ushered Lemm away from the elevators and joined one end of the line of security guards. More rocks and bottles flew through the air. Laser painters covered the nearby walls of the Embassy with revolutionary slogans and curse words in several languages.

Lemm heard the piercing sound of shattering glass, followed by a second. Two of the entrance doors had been smashed. Cheers ran up when someone smashed a third door. The mob swelled and came within an arm’s length of the guards.

“This is a riot,” said Lemm. “Why are the security guards doing nothing? Where are the police?”

“Are you crazy?” said one of the guards. “One false move and we’re the ones in prison.”

Lemm looked at Fengrick who watched the scene of growing chaos with equally growing terror. The nearest rioters focused their rage at the captain. His red and gold Imperial uniform stood out against the black clothes of the security guards.

The captain’s eyebrows shot up. An Irethian woman bared her teeth and strode towards Fengrick. She held a long metal pipe above her head, her right elbow cocked and ready to swing. The captain, paralyzed by fear, held out his hands lamely and took a step backwards.

Impulsive instinct seized Lemm and he leapt forward, ducked his head, and dove into the side of the oncoming assailant. Both collapsed to the ground and rolled in a shouting, swearing jumble of arms and legs. The pipe flew from the woman’s hands and disappeared into the crowd. Lemm ended up on top of her, pinning her shoulders to the ground. He looked at the woman’s enraged face, covered with piercings and tattoos.

“Olaln krak un!”

Lemm suddenly felt himself being pulled backwards. Sirens shrieked outside the Embassy and the mob plowed out the entrance doors before scattering in all directions. Lemm struggled to free himself, but felt a second set of hands grab him. He twisted his neck and saw two of the security guards holding him from behind.

A third stepped forward and frowned at Lemm. “Sir, you are under arrest.”

* * *

The Olmeninian police sergeant swiped his datapad, occasionally shaking his head or looking up at Lemm who sat across the table from him in a sparse interrogation chamber. With a final, melancholy grunt, the sergeant laid down the device. “The headlines are bad,” he said, frowning. “You’re in trouble, son.”

Lemm pursed his lips. “You’d think the opposite would be the case. I might have saved that guard’s life, you know.”

The sergeant nodded with sad understanding. “I know. We know. But they don’t care.”

Lemm leaned in. “Who are ‘they’?”

The sergeant sighed. The chamber door slid open and a man entered, dressed in stylish Olmeninian business attire. The sergeant stood at attention.

“At ease, officer,” said the newcomer. “You may leave. The prosecution wishes to begin the interrogation.”

“Yes, Tribune Ruuta,” said the sergeant with a curt nod before departing.

Ruuta took the sergeant’s seat and stabbed his datapad with quick movements. He had well-kempt blond hair and two days’ worth of stubble on his face. His yellow-green eyes scanned the datapad impatiently. Finally, he set it down with a clack and looked up at Lemm for the first time. “Well?” said Ruuta.

“Well what?”

“What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking, Tribune. Not beyond my simple calculation that the rioter had to be—”

“Protestor,” corrected Ruuta. “The incident that occurred this evening was not a riot, but a protest. Thus, the woman you attacked was not a rioter, but a protestor. Now, you said you weren’t thinking? Yes, so much is clear. You weren’t thinking of the psychological and physical damage you could afflict on the victim through your unprovoked assault.”

Lemm blinked, barely able to believe he was not in a dream.

“Tribune Ruuta, I do not know if you have received credible information about the situation, but there was a riot going on in the Embassy Building, including vandalization and the throwing of dangerous objects. The victim — your words — was a split-second away from bashing in the head of an innocent guard. I was merely trying to protect—”

“The woman you assaulted is a victim and has suffered horrendously from this experience.”

“She was about to attack someone,” said Lemm beginning to lose his patience. “She might have killed him!”

“But she didn’t. And so your hypothetical description is irrelevant. What is neither hypothetical nor irrelevant is the actual attack that did occur: your attack. Do you have any genuine defense for yourself?”

The chamber fell silent as Lemm began to reappraise his situation. Tribune Ruuta was not being reasonable, but the truth was on Lemm’s side. He needed corroboration for his story only to prove his innocence. “Certainly there must be other witnesses who can back my claim. There were hundreds of people there.”

Ruuta shook his head. Lemm waited for him to explain more, but Ruuta remained silent. “What does that mean?” said Lemm.

“No one is willing to testify against our accusation of first-degree assault.”

“No one?”

Ruuta sighed as if he were being pestered by a child. He snatched his datapad and tapped it for a second, then sighed again.

“Hirono Mour, Ala Sench, Uusten Omnair, ...”

He listed a dozen names before stopping.

“Do I need to continue? All these people were present at the protest and are willing to corroborate our claims. No one has offered a contrary account.”

“What about Captain Fengrick? Surely he will support me.”

Ruuta swiped his datapad. “Captain Quonn Fengrick. Your security detail, no? He was interrogated this evening at timemark 4-15-32 ...”

He looked up at Lemm. “He makes no statement.”

Lemm shook his head in disbelief. “What about surveillance footage? A datapad recording? Anything?”

Ruuta smiled for the first time, a slight coiling of his lips. He punched his datapad then flipped the screen to show Lemm.

“There is a recording. It’s being reported by all the public information channels.”

Lemm’s stomach cramped as he watched a silent, nine-second video clip taken from a datapad of someone in the rioting crowd. In a tight zoom-in, the footage showed the moment Lemm collided with the woman and stopped right after he wrestled on top of her. The metal pipe was nowhere to be seen. Without any sound, he heard none of the mob’s raucous screaming. The clip finished then repeated on a loop. After three times, Lemm closed his eyes and felt despair creeping into his heart.

“It is all quite clear,” said Ruuta, who had kept his eyes fixed on Lemm’s face the whole time. “The victim is suing for twenty-two million Imperial Marks in damages and reparation.”

Lemm gasped.

“The trial will be in two days. Your bail has been set at 500,000 Marks. If unpaid, you would be kept in the Olmeninian Correctional Facility in the North Continent.” Ruuta leaned back in his chair, his twisted smile deepening.

“But there is good news, Junior Ambassador. Someone has already mobilized the funds to post your bail. A certain Beranon Tinnoli, the Secretary of the Interior, coordinated the transfer. Friends in high places. So you are free.”

Ruuta stood and tucked the datapad under his arm. “That is to say, you are free from prison for the next two days until your trial. You may not leave Olmenin. Good day, Junior Ambassador. I look forward to our next meeting.”

Ruuta strode out of the chamber without another word.

* * *

Proceed to part 3...

Copyright © 2024 by Alcuin Fromm

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