Assassin's Way

KS Augustin

Sujets

• Space opera

Informations

• Publié par: Challis Tower
• Date de parution: 14 avril 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9780987544032
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Alshandiel Dolrahn wants a new life away from the suffocating world of Qolar. But will the Diplomatic Corps be her salvation…or undoing?

The ideal assassin is young, smart and on the run.

Alshandiel feels suffocated by her home planet of Qolar. She finds her fellow Qolari narrow-minded and xenophobic and the caste system that governs her world rigid and stifling. She is looking for a way out.
The notorious Department of Other Matters deals with things the average Qolari doesn’t want to know anything about-most notably, the rest of the galaxy.
It seems only natural that Alshandiel should consider a career within the casteless, outward-looking Department. But DOM holds its own secrets. And once it has you, it never lets go.

People
Maen / Alshandiel (Shandi) Dolrahn / Vintel Enermas / Lamnen / Mica / Nols Lazeet / Skelante Lamnen / Roelven / Imdae Sentika / Memar / Intah / Beydel Ufrih / Gahnel Fin / Jolon Dan / Zental / Olon / Nidan / Braan / Nedron / Howdandrin / Pagenor / Ifraesh / Jesse / Daltel / Kiv / medtech / Lavenar / Amonseel / Emontel / Ridal / Aishont / Jatz / Benosha Elihlsov / Windena / Dohule Vesage / Cendra Xalcerc

Places
Usandrai Desert / Qolar / Asen peaks / Central Spire / Library Major / Minera / Axle / Anvil / Auspice / Axiom / Augur / Adduce / Qolari / Kalon / Ozca / Lake Propulsion / Lake Vortex Minor / Rakk Prime / Perineos Minor

Things
DOM (Department of Other Matters) / Second Southern University / Winchenal marble / Llandrin mix / stu-comm / maltoh / thorn-bushes / gossamer-wing / strangle-creeper / Selfers / wingcraft / scar-cats / ord / airbills / pare grain / Iron Storm / Golden Array / Snow Daggers / Hot Lava / Flake /
Words
Shastof / Da / offplanet / Shalon / Quadracy / Mis / VAP / timboll /
Chapter One
“Y ou’re joking…right?” Maen’s voice was a study in horrified fascination.
Alshandiel kept silent. She had already explained her situation, her reasoning, yet volatile, stubborn Maen was having none of it.
Irritated, she made a point of focusing on a ball game at the far end of the playing field. The wide, low campus of the university stretched around her, the buildings mostly white and squat, their pale walls glowing in the sun. Behind her, a fountain’s bowl tipped running water from one sculpted cup to another before disappearing into a circular bed of prismatic grey crystals. The water made a tinkling sound as it fell.
It was summer and a warm fifteen degrees. The grass was thick and soft to sit on and the fragrance of leaves and flowers filled the air. If it were possible, Alshandiel would have lived within this one moment-one of calm and predictable cycles, the fountain’s musical tones occasionally joined by sounds of player limbs hitting rubber, carried faintly across the field.
Maen sat cross-legged next to her, his long gangling limbs untidy despite their compact folds. His dark eyes were characteristic pools of cynicism, a rough contrast to the paleness of his skin and mohawk of banded black-and-fawn hair that adorned his head. His family came from the north of the planet. Southerners didn’t have manes of such dramatic colour contrasts.
Vintel, who had been trudging across the library lawn all this time, reached the duo and flung himself down beside them.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, picking up on the tension. “Who did something wrong this time?”
Vintel was shorter than Maen but still topped two metres in height. His fair, bright gaze-matched by unusual hair of only a single, light hue-darted between them in enquiry.
Maen’s hand jerked towards his university companion. “Our friend here. She just told me she’s thinking of joining DOM.”
“DOM?” Vintel’s voice was as incredulous as Maen’s. Silence reigned again for a few minutes while he appeared to digest the information.
“DOM’s got to be big,” he finally said in a calmer tone of voice, “if only because it covers a wider range of issues than just Agriculture or even Defence. Could be there are some nice jobs going there.”
“That may be,” Maen shot back in a tone of voice one normally used on a moron, “but how would anybody find out about them, considering DOM is a black hole?”
“True.” Vintel picked at a blade of grass, shredding it with his fingers.
“Even your father, the mighty Yellow Magnate Enermas, drew a blank when he tried to get that Comprehensive Inquiry set up into DOM’s affairs last year.”
“Very true.” Vintel put the tiny fragments into the palm of his hand and blew them into the wind. They soared briefly…then flew straight back into his face. Alshandiel tried not to smile.
“And their annual budget figures are never itemised. Shastof! I wouldn’t be surprised if what’s published is only half of their real budget.”
“Got a point.” Vintel dusted the little rust-coloured flecks off his loose-fitting shirt.
“And our dear sixth-year student of Capital Considerations here wants to hurl herself into that bureaucratic abyss? Forgive me if I don’t regard it as one of the most cogent thoughts she’s ever had.”
“So what’s in DOM? Is she thinking of joining as an administrator...” he lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper, “or something more dangerous?”
“The thought is already madness, Vin.” Maen looked close to apoplexy. “You want degrees ?”
“Let’s ask her.” Alshandiel saw Vin’s gaze dart to her. “At the worst, all she can do is answer us.”
His friend shrugged-a starburst pattern with his hands; whatever you say- and laid back on the grass.
“So I’m actually being asked my opinion now?” Alshandiel pinned Maen with a withering gaze. “We’ve finished with our tantrum, have we?”
“For now,” Vin said quickly. “So, is Maen imagining things? Jumping to conclusions? Forgive him, it’s the only exercise he gets.”
There was a slight pause before Alshandiel was forced to reply. “No.”
Vintel creased his forehead. “So you are considering a life in DOM?”
She nodded slowly. “Maybe.”
“And are you aware that whoever disappears into that black hole, as Maen puts it, never returns?”
Now it was Vintel’s turn to suffer Alshandiel’s contemptuous look.
“Don’t you think I’ve given this any thought at all, Vin?”
His answer was interrupted by a sharp shout, followed by the bouncing trajectory of a small ball. Vintel neatly intercepted the rubber sphere, holding it while he watched another student approach. The tall rangy male skidded to a halt beside them, panting from exertion.
Maen looked up at the interloper-an eighth-year acquaintance-with his usual indifference. “How goes study, Lamnen?” he asked.
“Well enough,” the student identified as Lamnen puffed.
“Out of breath, I see,” Maen said. “Maybe your cardiovascular system could do with another spirit-quest to the Usandrai Desert?”
The spiteful comment was delivered in a bored tone Maen had taken years to perfect.
“Maybe.” But instead of taking offence, the proffered ball, and heading back to his compatriots, Lamnen tarried, bending over double to catch his breath.
It must be hard on him, Alshandiel thought, watching as the back of his head bobbed up and down. Lamnen was too old to fit comfortably into the mainstream student groups, but not old enough to socialise with the Matures, and that was even without taking into account the fame of his younger sister.
And as for the Usandrai Desert! Only fools and religious extremists braved the barren wind-scraped wilderness that encircled the northern pole. There was a steady stream of people who ventured there every year, in search of either untold mineral riches or spiritual enlightenment. They usually came back missing frostbitten extremities. Or didn’t come back at all. With that in mind, rumour of Lamnen’s religious quest into the frigid Usandrai wilderness four years ago was bound to scare off any sane-thinking, not-very-spiritual colleague. Which, when one was talking about the Second Southern University, included almost its entire population, including the Theology Department.
A not-quite-young-enough, not-quite-old-enough, ultra-spiritual-nut student with no friends and a celebrity sibling. And she thought she had problems. Well, she did. Hence, DOM.
“You three look pretty serious,” Lamnen said, looking to make conversation while waiting for his heart rate to reach equilibrium.
Vintel began making a dismissive gesture but Maen jumped in with both feet.
“You’d be serious too, if one of your friends decided to dive into the Department of Other Matters.”
Lamnen’s dark eyes darted between Vintel and Alshandiel before resting on her.
How did he know?
“That’s a big move.” He leaned back and stretched his back.
“ Shastof! You think so?” Maen’s tone was vitriolic.
The older man didn’t reply, but took the ball from Vin’s upheld hand, gave the group a quick nod, then jogged back to the rest of the players.
“Thick as rock,” Maen said to nobody in particular, although he seemed pleased with the level of insults he managed to impart.
“What does Mica think of this?” Vintel asked, bringing the conversation back to the topic at hand.
Alshandiel shrugged. “He doesn’t know.”
“Doesn’t know? Don’t you think you should tell him? DOM’s a big step, Shandi. Even if half of what they say isn’t true, it’s still terrifying to contemplate. What do you know about them? About their work? Once DOM accepts someone, that someone can say goodbye to their friends and family. She’ll never see them again. We’d never see you again.”
“That doesn’t happen to everyone,” Alshandiel countered, but her voice faltered. “My family socialises with a DOM Director from time to time. Da knows him through work.”
Nols Lazeet was the director’s name. He had only ever been to her parents’ house on a handful of occasions, each time to talk business. Strictly speaking, they didn’t quite “socialise”, but her father spoke of him often enough.
Vintel snorted. “One person out of how many thousand? And what about those stationed offplanet with the diplomatic arm? What would you do out there, all alone? What can you do offplanet that you