The Undertaking
ScouseMatt
OJOQWCWC Runner Up
She caught sight of him again as the cabin doors closed behind her. He had changed his clothes, but they still marked him as an outsider - garish bright colours clashed with the sombre earth tones of her fellow passengers. It was the third time in a cycle she had seen him, shaved head and horns like something out of fashion disaster vids from a hundred years ago.
Atma was a long way from the Confederacy, almost as far as you could get. She knew why he was following her, it would be the same old familiar reason. She continued to stare out of the window as the grav train slowly slipped out of the station and built up speed towards the coastal parks. He would be aboard, of course.
Therese took stock, she was alone, unarmed and heading further and further from familiar ground with every second. Still, the Lady of LonRoth was not without resources, the man would be unlikely to present much more than an annoyance, it was practically impossible to smuggle weapons aboard a grav train and the Lords of Lon and Roth had invested heavily in physical augmentation long before the Star Fold had ripped itself from the Federation's bosom.
She waited. The time it took him to locate her cabin and hack the access code would reveal something of his capabilities, she left an emergency call pending on her neural 'mentation and sat back in the moulded seat to watch the countryside fly past, soft relaxing music playing in her ears as the cabin responded to her raised body notifiers and attempted to calm her pulse.
It took him more than an hour. Slow, good.
..
He had to grace to knock before the door opened, how considerate. He moved through the oval, standing straight as the iris closed behind him.
“Lady LonRoth, my name is Fredricks, Dalem Fredricks.” He paused, perhaps expecting the name to carry some import. It didn't. Therese remained silent.
He tried again. “I'm sorry for this intrusion, but you have refused all my attempts at communication. I needed to speak to you.”
He looked every bit the brash dilettante, no doubt spending daddy's money while exploring all the galaxy had to offer. He had certainly spend a great deal of that money on his appearance, ridiculous black horns sprouted a few centimetres from his forehead, curving toward the centre, his skin tone almost masked the faint traceworks of Sylvan Noding, but his recent exposure to the harsh light of Atma revealed quality workmanship.
She finished her study. “My privacy is important to me.” she said and pointed to the door.
“I just have a few questions.”
This was boring, they came, each thinking they were the first. “I have no wish to talk to you. About any subject.”
“But your mother was Eirini Roth.”
Would she never be free of this?
“Please leave. I know nothing more about the Red Feather that anyone can see in countless holovids.”
Fredricks shook his head. “I don't want to know anything about the Red Feather. I just want to ask a few questions about Eirith.”
That bloody ship haunted her, it had taken her mother and become part of a legend. The lies and mis-truths surrounding its demise had dogged her and her family for decades.
“My mother is dead, Mister Fredricks.” She resisted the urge to call him 'kid'. “Leave now or I will call security.”
“I've read Confederacy intelligence reports on the Red Feather. They didn't answer my questions. You can, once and for all.”
Access to intelligence documents? She looked at him again. It was possible that he was older than he appeared, perhaps a good anteGeriatric surgeon had shaved off some years.
“If you are as well read as you say, then I have nothing to add.” The full truth was still classified anyway, he might be asking questions that not even a daughter could answer.
“I'm not the first talking like this, am I.” Was that a sudden insight, or an attempt at empathy?
“Your time has run out. My network is contacting security now.”
“Have any of the others mentioned a locket?”
She cancelled the call. “You had better sit down.”
Amid all the mysteries set frozen in ice within the dead Red Feather, a locket had been forgotten. None of the others had brought it up, not the students for their historical papers, not the screenwriters, the journalists. Not even the conspiracy nuts, and there had been enough of them. And yet, there was a locket back in her house. He had bought himself some more time.
“Lady, LonRoth, I assure you my interests lie away from the prurient gossip concerning that ill fated ship. My questions concern an earlier time.”
“Tell me what you know about the locket.”
“It was manufactured from diamonds grown on the Dusfeld-W2 mining complex, with a deep blue saphire set in its centre surrounded by a cloud os smaller stones. Inside is a data crystal, that shows spectacular stellar scenes, moonscapes, sunsets and the like.”
Therese was stunned. The locket was part of her mother's private collection, handed down to her after the declaration of her death, before the Red Feather had been located.
“How do you know this?”
The man shrugged and smiled. “So you recognise the description.” He looked overjoyed. “I came all this way to be sure, she was Eirith Roth.”
She said nothing, still waiting for a reply to her previous question. He smiled a wide, perfect grin. “The locket is one of a pair.”
The music in the cabin picked up tempo, reflecting her interest. “I didn't know that.”
“If Eirith Roth had the second locket then it marks the end of a journey.” He dug a hand into a pocket and pulled out a small, almost familiar object.
The size was the same, the colours, metallic hues sparkling regular patterns from her youth in the bright afternoon light. She leaned closer, there were differences, the layout of the stones was not quite right, subtle but definite differences.
“This does appear to be the pair to a locket my mother owned.” She fought to contain her interest, “can I ask how you came about it?”
“Part of my Grandfather's legacy, as was this trip.”
“I don't understand.”
Fredricks knew he had the upper hand, it was written in his body language, the facts were his to dole out into the conversation at his pace. “Have you ever data analysed the interior crystal?” He said.
“Of course, it was filled with memory shots, like those any tourist gets.”
“These would be memories of the Star Fold about fifty years previously?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever have any analysis on the other stones? This small cluster here?” He fiddled with on of the pearl buttons on his sleeve and an image of a young couple appeared in the air above the locket in his hand, arms around one another, laughing together. Very much in love.
The female figure was unmistakable. She wore the single pip of a Ensign, so that put the date right, fifty one years ago. On the Scarro's Ribbon expedition to the Confederacy. Before she had been born.
She looked at the male figure there, things fallen into place. “Your Grandfather?” Fredericks nodded.
She ran the numbers in her head. “This was eight, maybe nine years before she met my father. Why?”
“My grandfather loved my grandmother, he stayed with her for over twenty five years, renewing contracts each time. But he carried this locket with him always.”
“I meant why bring this across the galaxy now?”
“I have taken much of your time, Lady LonRoth, and invaded your privacy, but I bring a message from my Grandfather, from beyond the veil of death.”
“Yes?”
“It is not without considerable difficulty I ask this, the family back home is divided, but a promise is a promise.” He was vacillating now, clearly nervous.
“You've come a long way for this, and yet you hesitate?” She said.
“My grandfather loved all his children, and his wife, but he never forgot Eirith Roth. He asked me to find her, or her descendants and have his waters mingled with her, so that they might spend eternity together.”
Therese was stunned. To have Star Fold blood tainting the family fountain, the birth and death waters of all those previous generations mingled with this unknown, what? She looked down at the hologram, miner?
But above the simu-Fireplace in her mothers old office back home had been a spectacular holo image of an eclipse casting bright contrasts over an ugly, sprawling orbital installation. It had always fascinated Therese, so at odds with the natural harmony of her mother's other décor.
“I will consider your request, Dalem, and as head of the family, my decision carries some weight.”
“I thank you for your time Lady LonRoth.” He stood and bowed his head, preparing to leave.
“Sit down again, Dalem. I've ordered drinks, you can tell me a little more of your grandfather while we wait.”
The End.