Private Log 145: 7 - 20 December, 3302
26 May 2017Jemine Caesar
7 - 20 December, 3302"How d'you suppose he knew?" I said, resting my dataslate on my knee.
Sam looked up from his own dataslate and regarded me quizzically. The puzzled expression on his face was entirely justified, as my question had come after a silence which had lasted almost an hour. I'd been reading the latest copy of Valentina! magazine, but my attention had repeatedly wandered back to my time in Pegasi.
"How do I suppose who knew what?" asked Sam.
"Admiral Remi," I replied. "How did he know I was mixed up with Black Omega?"
Sam put down his dataslate and leaned forward. "I thought you weren't bothered about your services no longer being required by Federal Intelligence. Your exact words were 'I don't give a fuck'."
"And I still don't. But I can't help being curious to know just how Remi found out what I'd been up to." I narrowed my eyes at Sam in suspicion. "Did you tell him?"
"No," he replied, shaking his head for emphasis. "I think the answer's obvious, though."
"It is? Well then, enlighten me."
"Amongst other things, FIS is in the business of gathering information," he said. "To do that they need people in the right place at the right time. They'll have undercover agents working for factions all over the bubble, so I would imagine it's highly likely that they have people within Black Omega, reporting back to FIS on anything and everything they can. One of those reports may have mentioned you."
"Yes," I said. "That makes sense. I wonder who it could have been?"
"Literally anybody," replied Sam. "Though they'd probably have had to come into contact with you at some point. Or seen something linking you to Black Omega. Perhaps," he continued, his voice hardening slightly, "it was that bounty hunter bloke who took you under his wing."
"Or perhaps it was Cherisch Cheerful," I said, choosing to ignore Sam's pointed reference to my encounter with Matt Lehman.
"Cherisch Cheerful? You mean the pilot who interdicted you and later turned up working in Exotica?"
"Yes. Marty Aston told me she was in Exotica because she'd made a silly mistake. Perhaps Black Omega found out she was a FIS agent, and put her to work in Exotica as punishment."
Sam shrugged. "It's possible," he said. "But I reckon they'd be more inclined to just kill her outright."
Then I was struck by another possibility which made me gasp in surprise. "Oh, Sam!" I said. "What if it was Marty Aston himself? He was killed on a taxi hauler in an apparently random pirate attack, remember. Well, what if it wasn't so random? What if Aston was a FIS agent, and the attack on the hauler was a deliberate assassination?"
"Also possible," Sam said. "But from what we know of Aston, I'd say it was highly unlikely. He was just a failed bodyguard with delusions of grandeur."
I knew that what Sam had said was most probably true, but the idea that Aston might actually have been a FIS agent, ludicrous as it seemed, had taken root in my mind. Yet I had to accept that I'd never be able to prove it one way or the other. Admiral Remi certainly wasn't going to confide in me, and I could hardly have called Black Omega to ask if they'd had him killed for being a spy.
"No," Sam continued. "Aston was just a prick, pure and simple, who was killed in a pirate attack. If it weren't for the fact that others were killed with him, I'd be happy to shake the hand of the pirate responsible. And you know I take a very dim view of that so-called career."
"Yes," I said. "I know you do. Still, since neither of us are ever likely to meet Aston's killer, it's all rather academic, isn't it?"
I picked up my dataslate and opened Valentina! magazine again.
*****
The two weeks leading up to the Christmas Holiday saw both Sam and I spending a great deal of time in our ships. Sam, for the most part, was content to make cargo runs between Sol and its neighbouring systems. I, on the other hand, was venturing more and more into the realm of bounty hunting. My frequent solo visits to the rings of Saturn had done wonders for my Combat rating; by December 13th it had risen to 95% and, just two days later, I had claimed enough bounties to receive my 'Competent' rating from the Pilot's Federation.
"You'll soon be Elite at the rate you're going," said Sam.
"Oh, I've a long way to go before that happens," I replied. "But who knows? Maybe someday, hmm?"
On December 19th I received a k-cast message from my father, Edward Harvard, inviting Sam and me to spend Christmas with him and Diadem, his fiancée. They'd settled in the Lugh system for the time being, and had taken comfortable rooms on Hartsfield Market starport.
"Lugh is an Alliance system," Sam told me, "and a pleasant enough one at that. I've been there two or three times over the years." After a quick check of his dataslate, Sam informed me that Lugh had a thriving agricultural economy and supported a population of around sixteen billion. "Hartsfield Market is an Orbis starport, which apparently has 'the finest fish restaurant in the bubble'. That's quite a bold claim."
"It certainly is," I agreed. "I'm sure we'll be able to fit in a visit at some point while we're there."
"Maybe," said Sam, with a trace of doubt in his voice. "But all I'll say is that it'd better be really good If these prices are anything to go by!"
After sending a k-cast back to my father to tell him we would be arriving at Lugh the next day, Sam and I busied ourselves with preparations to leave Sol. Lugh was only around 55 light years from Sol, so our trip was short and trouble-free. Father and Diadem were both waiting for us in the Harbour Visitors Lounge on Hartsfield Market, and greeted us warmly.
Father seemed to be happy and in robust health. He had grown a neat beard and mustache, which looked suspiciously darker than it had a right to be. His clothes were decidedly Imperial in style, though not as ostentatious as the beautiful flowing dress worn by his tall young fiancee. Her gold jewellery shone brightly against her dark-brown skin, and there was a diamond-encrusted gold tiara in her jet-black frizzy hair.
"I'm so glad you came, Jemine," said father. "And you, too, Sam. It's good to see you again. Allow me to introduce my fiancée, Diadem Palama. I daresay Jemine's told you about her already?"
"Indeed she has, Mr Harvard, " said Sam. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Palama."
Diadem gave Sam a radiant smile. "Hey now, you just call me Diadem, honey. We're practically family already. My, but you sure are a tall one! Do they all grow as big as you at Beta Hydri, Samuel?"
"Not all of them," he replied. "Though tallness is something of a Hodkin family trait. And please, call me Sam."
"I think," said Diadem, linking her arm in Sam's, "that you and me are gonna get along just fine. You are gonna come to my wedding, aren't you?"
Father gave a short, nervous cough. "I, er... I haven't told them yet, Didi."
I grinned at my embarrassed father. "Oh, you've set a date, haven't you? When is it?"
"June the seventeenth," he said. "We're going to hold the wedding in Didi's home system, Reorte. You will come, won't you? And your boyfriend too, of course."
Taking my father's hand, I leaned forward and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Just you try and stop me."
"And I'd also be honoured to attend," said Sam. "Diadem, Jem told me you met Edward at Turir. That's an Empire system, so I'd assumed that meant that you were an Imperial citizen. Reorte is in Alliance space, isn't it?"
"Oh, now that is a long story," replied Diadem. "I was born at Reorte, but I relocated to Turir three years ago. Let's just say it was a career move, and leave it at that."
Diadem flashed another of her brilliant smiles at Sam, but there was an unmistakable look on her face which said 'don't ask me any more questions'. Sam duly let the matter drop.