The Englor Affair (2 page)

“Ah. Yes, she is. Most people with access to a lot of power and very little intelligence are.” The statement was delivered matter-of-fact, without even a touch of malice. Aldred crossed the room and handed Simon a tumbler. He sat opposite Simon and sampled his scotch.

Umm, the warm smell of scotch assailed his senses. Simon sipped his drink and used the moment to digest his uncle’s statement. The scotch was good, musky and earthy. It replaced the sick feeling he’d been harboring since he’d overheard his mother’s conversation. He’d never considered his mother an idiot, but it was true that she did not know a wide variety of things. “Why did he marry her? He could have had anyone. It’s all a game to her, a power trip to ensure her own gains.”

Aldred pulled a silver cigar case from his inside coat pocket, opened it and offered it to Simon, then took one for himself before putting it away. “I should think that would be obvious. Your mother is a very beautiful woman.”

“So are certain species of snakes…” Simon took another drink. “Ahhh…” That tingling when it went down was something. A few more of these and he’d be fine with everything. Too bad he had a conscience that wouldn’t allow him to overdo it and forget.

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The Englor Affair

Aldred laughed. “Indeed, but don’t be too hard on your father. You got your mother’s looks, thank Galaxy. How would you’ve liked to have been cursed with the Hollister ears?” He smiled over his drink, his gray eyes twinkling in merriment.

Simon scoffed. His uncle was not an unattractive man. Simon would much rather have gotten the Hollister dark hair than his mother’s fiery red. Besides, Aldred’s ears weren’t anywhere near as big as Simon’s father’s. Being single and only in his mid-thirties, Aldred was still considered quite a catch. “I look like a Hollister.”

“A Hollister with a nice smooth freckle-less complexion and ears the right size for your head. But that’s beside the point. What did your mother do now? And why were you asking about Keller’s boy?”

Tapping the cigar against his glass, Simon sat back. “She wants to have homosexuality outlawed and punishable by death.” Little did she know her own son would be at the gallows along with all the other—what did she call them? Deviants? “I’m safe from her hatred and bigotry, but other Englorians are not.”

“Ah.” Aldred pulled out a cutter and snipped the end of his cigar before lighting it.

Tossing the cutter and lighter to Simon, he sat back and puffed on his cigar.

The pleasant, almost sweet-smelling smoke of Aldred’s preferred vanilla-flavored cigars filled the air.

Simon frowned, catching the lighter but missing the cutter.
What does he mean,

“ah”? He doesn’t sound surprised.
Reaching down between his feet, Simon picked up the cutter off the emerald-colored carpet. He studied it then pushed the plunger down. It was like a mini guillotine. He winced, once again thinking about what his mother would like to do to people she considered freaks of nature.

“That again? I thought she’d given up on the homosexual issue.”

“She’s done this before?” Simon snipped the end of his cigar and stuck it between his lips. Sure she’d gotten on her high horse about other issues before, but she’d never tried to make something punishable by death.

Aldred shrugged and pulled his cigar out of his mouth, holding it and his scotch in one hand. “She does it every few years, depending on who she’s associating with.” He www.samhainpublishing.com 11

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took a puff from his cigar and crossed one black linen-clad leg over the other. “Let’s see, she’s been seen with the Viscountess Griffon and the Marchioness of Whipple lately.

Both are patronesses of the Church of Englor. So, yes it makes sense. Plus with the recent scandal… Can’t let the morality of Englor suffer, don’t you know?”

“Morality?” Simon winced. He hadn’t meant to shout, but damn it, how was this a morality issue?

Aldred’s left eyebrow rose. “So she says. So most people say.”

Disgusted, Simon shook his head and removed the cigar from his lips. “It’s no more a moral issue than some debutantes preferring orange to pink or some lords having a fondness for brandy over scotch. Morality is whether it’s right or wrong to kill someone, whether it’s okay to steal. Who one chooses to sleep with is not a moral issue nor should it be against the law. Isn’t adultery against the law? And yet over half the people in that ballroom behind us are adulterers, including my mother. You don’t hear her or her friends wanting to make that punishable by death.” Simon finally took a breath and tried to relax.

Shouting at his uncle wasn’t going to help matters. Sticking the cigar between his lips again, he fumbled with the lighter.

Gads, he was never going to get used to these things. None of it, the oddities of politics or the habits of the ton. They all seemed so shallow. He lit his cigar and promptly choked.

“Put that out before you kill yourself. You do not have to smoke.” Aldred took another sip of his scotch and a puff off his own cigar, before tapping some of the ashes off in the green glass ashtray on the small table between their chairs.

Simon swigged his drink, trying to calm his hacking. It helped a little. “I keep thinking it will get better. I mean there must be some reason you and Father smoke the damned things.”

Chuckling, Aldred shook his head. “Put it out. You don’t have to master everything.”

Simon snubbed out his cigar and leaned back in his chair, smiling. His uncle knew him too well. “I don’t like it, Uncle.” His grin melted from his face. “A government should protect its people…all of its people. It’s not fair.”

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Aldred leaned forward, his own smile fading. “Life’s not fair, Simon.”

“No, it’s not.” His stomach plummeted to his feet. Simon set his glass on the table then ran his hands down his face. “My friend Proctor is a perfect example of political unjust. Roc is being forced to join the IN and then the Englor Marines against his wishes because he is a commoner, from a wealthy family, but one without a title nonetheless.

The flip side of that is my friend Wycliffe wants a military career but his father refuses to buy him a commission. He insists the future Duke of Amberley must remain out of harm’s way. What better way is there to learn to be a duke?” Simon sat forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. The unfairness of it all ate at him. “How can we expect people to respect us and follow our lead when the laws didn’t apply to us?” Hell, Simon himself had entertained the idea of fighting for his planet, but he’d never brought it up, knowing he’d be advised against it. “Why can’t leaders make laws to protect and help their constituents? Why is it they only do things to protect their own interests?”

“I’ve heard all this before, my boy. Nothing has changed. This is the way it works.

That is how it has always been done, you know that.” His uncle’s voice was soft, almost sad.

“I do, but I don’t like it. I’ve never liked it and I never will.” That footman and Lord Gerald should be able to be together if that was what they wanted. Instead the footman was thrown out on his ear without a recommendation and Lord Gerald was sent to rusticate in the country.

“Then change it.”

Simon blinked and met his uncle’s gaze.

Aldred stared right at him, just as serious.

Just like that, it all seemed so clear. Why hadn’t he seen it before? Simon stood, heading for the door, his mind made up. “I
will
change it. I’ll lead by example.” Since graduating from school last year, he’d been contemplating his life, his destiny. Wycliffe’s reasons for wanting to join the service were sound and made sense. He thought it would help him more effectively manage his estate when it was passed down to him. And Simon www.samhainpublishing.com 13

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agreed. The future of Englor rested on his shoulders. He was going to do what he considered honorable.

“Where are you going?”

Simon stopped, his hand on the doorknob, and turned to face his uncle. “I’m going to enlist in the Intergalactic Navy, then serve my planet in the Englor Marines.”

Aldred’s eyes widened and he juggled his cigar, nearly dropping it in his scotch.

Simon was fairly certain some ashes fell in the drink. “Simon, the royal family does not serve in the military.”

“No, but the common man is regulated by law to serve two years in the IN and two years in the Englor Marine Corps. To protect the freedoms of Englor and its peers. That hardly seems right.” He turned back toward the door. No one was going to talk him out of this. “Besides, where else am I going to learn to lead?”

As he closed the door behind him he thought he heard, “That’s my boy.”

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The Englor Affair

My parents may never recover from the trauma of having to ask me to put my
hacking skills to good use after dissuading me from using them all these years.

—
from the journal of Payton Marcus Townsend

January 15, 4830: the Lady Anna: Two parsecs outside of the Englor System

“Hurry, hurry, hurry.” Payton looked around the engine room then back to the monitors in front of him. Almost done, download ninety-eight percent complete.
Come
on.
If he could just get into the IN mainframes…

Dust.
His hands were sweating. No sooner than he wiped them on his trousers, a drop of perspiration dripped down his temple as well. He dashed it away.
Get it together,
Pay. If you’re going to spy for your planet you can’t go around looking like a nervous
ninny.
This was the perfect plan. Hacking into the Englor Marines’ message database from the Lady Anna would make it nearly impossible to trace. Even if there were cyber footprints, they wouldn’t be detected until he was on Englor. No one would suspect
him
.

Unless, of course, he failed to get out of here and back to his room unseen.

His com-pad beeped, signaling it was done. “Yes.” Payton closed the two screens together, with the displays facing out so he could see what the ship’s cameras were seeing. He was going to need it to get back to his room undetected. Bypassing sensors and cameras to hide his whereabouts was simple, but sneaking past crewmembers—Nate in particular—unseen proved a little more challenging.

After punching the buttons on the halo keyboard of the ship to log off, he pulled up the Lady Anna’s cameras on his com-pad. Nate had brought Payton on this trip to work on deciphering a message Aiden and Trouble had intercepted, but Payton wanted to get a www.samhainpublishing.com 15

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head start on looking into Colonel Hollister, who was mentioned in an intercepted letter by an Englorian Spy on Regelence. This should prove once and for all that Payton’s unconventional computer skills were a blessing.

Pulling up the first camera on his screen, Payton hurried to the door. He could turn the camera off remotely, but he needed to see if there was anyone outside the door first.

He brought up the view immediately outside the engine room door and then the next hallway to make certain no one was walking into this corridor. The coast was clear.

Nothing out there but the ugly purple carpet and stark metal bulkhead. Who used violet on a ship? The IN colors were black, white and gold. Why not black carpet?

He tapped the window on his screen and the corridor disappeared. Payton opened the door and closed it quietly behind him. As he rushed toward the end of the hall he pulled up the next camera. Still clear. With a couple of touches of his fingertip, he turned off the camera and opened a window with the next view in it.
Dust.
Two sailors were headed his way. Payton looked around. There was a hatch directly across where he stood now. He did some fast tapping on the screen and opened a map. The room across from him was an officer’s apartment. That wouldn’t work. Where was a broom closet when you needed one?

He had mere seconds to decide what to do. The two men were about to round the corner. What were the odds they’d mention to Nate that they saw him? Payton ducked his head and plowed forward, like he was where he was supposed to be. Really he had no other choice, just standing there looking for a hiding place would definitely make him stand out.
Note to self: next time steal—no not steal, a Townsend did not steal—borrow a
uniform.

The sailors came around the corner. Both were privates, both a little taller than Payton’s five feet six inches. He hadn’t seen either one of them before. Of course that wasn’t surprising, there were over two hundred crewmen on the ship. Fortunately, neither man paid Payton any mind. They walked right past him, still engrossed in their conversation.

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Payton let out the breath he’d been holding and brought up the next camera view.

That had been amazingly easy. But this was where it could get tricky. The corridor opened up into a four-way intersection. Two of the branches led to the public areas of the ship. The hall he was in led to the engine room, and the hall directly across from him led to his quarters. The problem was, the cross sections were usually busy.
Maybe the same
trick would work?
At this point he had nothing to lose. The closer he got to his room, the antsier he became. On his screen the intersection appeared devoid of personnel, but Payton had no illusions that it would stay that way. He turned off the camera, put his com-pad under his arm and raised his nose in the air.
Nothing to see here. Just taking a
stroll, stretching my legs.

As Payton reached the halfway point of the intersection, a husky female voice said,

“Aye-aye, Admiral.”

Stardust and imploding planets, there was only one Admiral on board. Payton looked in time to see Nate turning away from Captain Brittani Kindros and toward the intersection.
Dust.
Payton took off running. He didn’t stop until he got to his hatch. He darted inside and leaned against the smooth metallic panel when it closed behind him.