Episode 101, Veil Schemes
15 Sep 2024Ryuko Ntsikana
Episode 101, Veil Schemes
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Meredith tilted his head back, eyes fixed on the dark sky as Ryuko’s carrier shimmered into view. A second fleet carrier followed, a swirling black dot against the stars, its form expanding as it materialized fully. His gut tightened, but he kept his expression steady for Ashlyn’s sake. She tugged at his sleeve, pointing upward.
“Look, Dad. Another one.”
He forced a smile, patting her hand in acknowledgment. He didn’t want her feeding off his unease. Not yet.
Zaria stepped up beside them, her gaze following theirs. She didn’t appear surprised—never did. Her calm, efficient demeanor only underscored the unease that crawled beneath Meredith’s skin.
“At some point today or tomorrow,” Zaria said, her voice cutting cleanly through the soft sounds of the camp, “my benefactor would like to meet with you both. Are you alright with that?”
Ashlyn glanced up at her father, wide-eyed, as if seeking his permission. Meredith swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “I don’t think that’s necessary. We’re just hired hands, not part of any... arrangements Ryuko might have made with other parties.” He tried to sound casual, though the weight of his unease seeped into his tone.
Zaria nodded, folding her arms as her eyes scanned the horizon. “You’re thoughtful and considerate, but I assure you, my benefactor’s interest isn’t something to dismiss lightly. What he offers... it’s substantial. And it won’t interfere with your contract with Ryuko.” She hesitated, just for a beat, then added, “In fact, Ryuko will be there, if you have any questions.”
Meredith narrowed his eyes slightly, unsure of what to make of that. “Why me? Why us? We’re nobody to him. If this is about Ryuko’s operation, shouldn’t he be talking to someone higher up? The Coterie?”
Zaria allowed a rare smile to flicker across her face. “He’ll speak with them, too. But his interest... let’s just say, it’s not only about rank or position. Sometimes, it’s about who’s got potential.” She glanced at Ashlyn with a knowing gleam in her eye. “Have you ever ridden a horse?”
“A what?” Ashlyn blinked, her confusion mirroring Meredith’s. “I’ve seen them in holovids. Once or twice, I think. We delivered cargo to a settlement where they had some.”
“Well, then,” Zaria said, her tone warming slightly. “You’re both in for a treat. My benefactors brought a few with him. Real ones.”
Ashlyn’s eyes widened with wonder, but Meredith barely registered her excitement. His thoughts were still tangled in Zaria’s words, their subtle weight pressing down on him like the darkening sky above. He felt the familiar stir of questions rising again, questions he hadn’t been able to shake since the first time Ryuko had extended his hand to him.
Tara too watched the two fleet carriers orbiting near one another, her synthetic eyes subtly adjusting as she zoomed in on the distant forms above. A ship passed between Ryuko’s carrier and the other, its small silhouette darting against the blackness of space. Something stirred deep inside her, a strange pit in her midsection, unfamiliar and unsettling. Her neurological matrix whirred, attempting to categorize the sensation, to define what could be taking place.
Inside her, a voice resonated—a soothing presence that seemed to reverberate through her core systems.
“It’s about time the two finally met for a face-to-face conversation,” the voice mused, calm and soft. “I imagine he’s here to calm your companion before he does something rash.”
Tara’s gaze shifted from the scene above to her internal systems, running diagnostics in search of the source of the voice. As before, she found nothing—no anomaly, no registered intrusion. The voice, however, remained, as intangible as a shadow.
“I understand the definition of certain emotions,” Tara replied inwardly, her processing pathways calculating the possibilities. “But I’m having difficulty comprehending why I would feel something that could be defined as unease.”
An ethereal giggle echoed through her systems, a light, playful sound that made her recalibrate for interference. “That’s because you’re not there to protect him. You care for him… love him, in a way. And you’re worried. Nothing more.”
Tara turned her gaze across the landscape, over a hundred meters away, where Zaria, Meredith, and Ashlyn stood engaged in conversation. She could easily listen in, and tap into their words, but she chose not to. Instead, her eyes returned to the space above, where the two carriers hovered like silent titans.
“I am worried,” she admitted, her internal diagnostics still unable to process why she felt this way. “Something is eating away at him. And he hasn’t told me what it is. Only snippets I’ve gleaned from his vocal musings.”
“Ah, that,” the voice said with a knowing lilt, still soft but carrying a touch of wisdom. “You have to let him go through this internal trauma on his own. The only other who truly understands what’s happening inside him will be with him shortly.”
Tara’s head tilted slightly, her mechanical precision trying to find a logical foothold in the conversation. “Are you part of my programming? Some routine I’ve yet to recognize?”
The giggle returned, soft and fleeting, fading like the last breath of wind before a storm. And then, it was gone, as if it had never been there at all.
Tara blinked her mind momentarily at a loss.
The room was plush with real wood paneling and flooring. An ancient shelf with real handheld books encased behind reinforced nanomolecular crystal glass, adorned one bulkhead. A wet bar, complete with a walk-in humidor, sat at the far end, attended by an android standing silently at attention. Recliners and couches were spread throughout the room, each accompanied by foot tables and nightstands, creating an air of casual opulence. The faint scent of sweet tobacco lingered in the air, seemingly untouched by the room's advanced filtration system—not by design, but by command, Ryuko knew. He savored the rich taste as he inspected the hand-rolled cigar between his fingers.
“Plush settings and a tasty cigar,” Ryuko said, the smoke curling around his words. “But you know I’m not here to smoke, drink, and lounge about. Why did you call for me?”
Across from him, Tzafrir, the enigmatic benefactor Ryuko had only met briefly—during his trial, before his exile to Colonia—sat back in his chair, exuding an effortless authority. His sharp, calculating gaze belied the calm exterior, his presence filling the room with a quiet intensity. He rolled the end of his cigar on the rim of his glass, pausing before taking another deep draw. The silence between them was deliberate, measured.
“You already know why,” Tzafrir finally said, his voice a smooth rumble. “We’ve both been around, seen enough. This isn’t about comfort or pleasantries.”
Ryuko’s eyes narrowed, studying the man before him. “And you would act differently, how?” he asked, his tone challenging but controlled. “Sit back, stare at these plush walls? Maybe read an ancient book while dipping and smoking your cigar?”
Tzafrir’s expression didn’t change, but a flicker of something—perhaps amusement—passed through his eyes. He took another long draw, releasing the smoke slowly, deliberately, as his gaze locked onto Ryuko’s.
“Cut the balloon juice, Ryuko,” Tzafrir said, his voice firm but not unkind. “We both know I would act—but not in the way you're thinking. You’re too damn smart to throw away everything you’ve built. The people responsible for the mess that led to your mentor being hunted down and killed? They’re dead. Their faction is in shambles. There's no honor left in chasing that ghost.”
Ryuko’s grip on his cigar tightened slightly, though his face remained impassive. Tzafrir leaned forward, his voice lowering, carrying a quiet intensity.
"You're thinking about a coup de grâce, aren’t you? But why? Giving that failed faction a merciful end would be too kind. Let them rot in their failure. Mercy is a luxury we don't afford to those who deserve misery.”
Ryuko remained silent, his thoughts swirling like the smoke between them. There was truth in Tzafrir’s words, though it was a bitter pill to swallow. His mentor, the lessons, the ideals—they demanded justice. But this? This was something else. Something colder, more pragmatic.
Tzafrir watched him, unblinking. "Don’t mistake vengeance for honor. There’s nothing honorable in ending what’s already dead. What you’re thinking about doing... it's beneath you."
Ryuko exhaled, the tension slowly ebbing from his shoulders. He took another pull from the cigar, letting the smoke settle around him, as he weighed the words hanging in the air.
“They’ll pay, but my way. I won’t throw it all away,” Ryuko said quietly, almost to himself.
Tzafrir smiled faintly, nodding as if he had expected no less. "Then, I might join in."
Aby, the personal assistant android—formerly a ball and chain wrapped around Ryuko during his exile to Colonia—walked in just as the two men smoked and drank in silence.
“Pardon me, sir,” Aby said, his voice as smooth and polished as ever. Both Ryuko and Tzafrir glanced up at the same time, responding in unison: “Yes?”
Aby pivoted to Tzafrir, extending a data tablet with a small bow. “Pardon me… sirs. Mr. Tzafrir, the information you requested.”
Tzafrir took the tablet in one hand, nodding at Aby. He lifted it toward the light, scanning the contents as he puffed on his cigar. A small smile tugged at his lips.
“Ah, this will interest you, Ryuko,” Tzafrir said, handing the tablet over with a casual gesture. “The faction you’re so keen on is tangled up in another conflict. They’re destined to lose. And the best part? That’ll leave them exposed for a smaller faction to sweep in—one we both have a mutual disdain for.”
Ryuko skimmed the data before handing it back, a grim smile forming. “Looks like I’ve got a week of twiddling my thumbs out here until the situation plays itself out.”
Tzafrir chuckled, setting the tablet down on the table beside his chair. “Well, the Veil East is darkly beautiful this time of year. But if you’re feeling restless, I hear there’s a system a few jumps away where you could earn a few extra credits. A little financial cushion before we send in your cargo pilot to lay the groundwork.”
Ryuko raised an eyebrow, taking a long pull from his cigar. “Cargo pilot? I am my own cargo pilot. What are you talking about?”
Tzafrir’s grin widened as he sipped his drink. “Meredith, of course. Your legitimate cargo and passenger pilot, and his shiny Type-8. I happen to have another one like it sitting in my hangar. I plan on gifting it to him when we meet tomorrow.”
Ryuko chuckled, shaking his head. “So, you’re planning on stealing my cargo pilot—and his daughter—by bribing them with a ship of their own?”
Tzafrir leaned back, letting a cloud of smoke roll from his lips, his grin widening. “No, my student. I wouldn’t do that to you. The ship’s a tool. Meredith will use it to gain influence, set the stage for us to move in, and—how shall I put it?—make a legal hash of things. For memories’ sake, of course.”
Ryuko paused mid-draw, almost choking on his cigar as he narrowed his eyes at Tzafrir, whose laughter now filled the room, thick with smoke and shared schemes.