The New Ka'Adri

PROLOGUE

EVERY GIRL NEEDS A LITTLE YELLOW DRESS

Leyria: Capital World of the Leyrian Federation

Examining the yellow dress that clung to her body like a second skin, Miri Nin Valia frowned at the slit that bared her leg to just past the knee. It was a bit ostentatious for her taste, but in this line of work, you had to look the part. The yellow looked good against her dark brown skin, though the harsh lights in the ceiling weren’t doing her any favours.

Once again, she checked her reflection in the ladies-room mirror. With thirty looming just over the next hill, she still looked youthful enough to convey a certain innocence. Enough that foolish men would assume that she was just another brainless twit who could be won over with a little swagger and bravado.

Her round face had an almost child-like quality, and she had been told more than once that her deep brown eyes were alluring. Her hair – what little of it there was – had been cut to a short fuzz. On other worlds, that might have earned her a few sidelong glances, but the Leyrians were far more open-minded about people who defied conventional gender roles.

She bent forward, retrieving a tube of crimson lipstick from her purse and carefully applying it. There. Now, she was ready to work. Activating the audio recorder she had concealed in her handbag, she slung the strap over her shoulder and headed out the door.

The heeled shoes were a bit of a pain. After so many years in the wilderness of a backwater planet, moving from town to town, she had gotten used to old, leather boots, the kind any soldier would wear. But she had been trained as a ka’adri whose first duty was to gather information on Aladar’s enemies. That meant she had to be comfortable slipping into any role.

This was her first visit to a club that existed for the sole purpose of appreciating fine spirits. The lounge area had hardwood floors and wide windows that looked out on a forest of pine trees. Most of the square ebony tables were empty, but each one had a candle burning in a little glass jar.

The curved, wooden bar had only a single old man sitting on one of its many stools, but he was content to remain quiet and peer into his glass. She noticed at least two dozen bottles on the shelves behind the counter – they came in a rainbow of colours and in just about every shape you could imagine – but she suspected they were just for show. For one thing, there was no bartender.

Or, more precisely, there was no human bartender.

The moment she approached, a man appeared from out of nowhere. Tall, slim and transparent, he greeted Miri with a smile. By this point, she was familiar with the concept of holograms – sculpted light that could produce a three-dimensional image. She didn’t flinch when he suddenly popped into existence. Which was a very good thing, given that she was pretending to be a woman who had grown up with this technology. Still, it was a bit unnerving to think that she wasn’t speaking to a real person. Especially when he was so handsome.

What can I get you, ma’am? the ghostly bartender asked.

Folding her hands on the counter, Miri leaned forward and studied him with a tight frown. Alvorin Whiskey, she said after a moment. Neat.

As the final word left her mouth, the hologram vanished. She heard the whir of machines working and the bubbling sound of liquor being poured into a glass. This whole establishment was…What was the word? Automated. The Leyrians believed in freeing people from the burden of menial labour. It was an interesting philosophy: one she had never had the chance to consider until very recently. For the most part, she agreed, though she had to wonder about the people who wanted to be bartenders. Surely, they must exist.

A hatch in the counter opened, and a hexagonal glass came up on a platform. She took it with a gesture of thanks and turned away from the bar. It still mystified her to think that she didn’t have to pay for any of this. Not the drink, not the dress, not her admission into this building. There was no money on this world.

Her target was a man named Andreo Tremir: a handsome fellow in his middle years who sat in a cushioned chair with his legs crossed at the ankle. He had positioned himself in the corner with a line of windows behind him and another one on his right. He seemed to be enjoying the scenery as twilight set in.

Glass in hand, Miri claimed a spot in front of a nearby window. She never looked in his direction. Not even a glance from the corner of her eye. Instead, she searched the forest for any hiding places that snipers might use. She wasn’t the least bit worried about that; Leyria was a peaceful world, and what little violence did take place here would not be directed at the connoisseurs of high-end alcohol. But it would give her the appearance of being lost in thought.

Tremir’s profile suggested that he was the sort of man who enjoyed female attention. She would make contact if she had to, but for now, it was best that he thought she hadn’t noticed him. That would only entice him further.

She lifted her glass to inhale the oaky aroma. It smelled as good as anything her people had ever created. Her first sip confirmed that assessment. This was some top-shelf stuff! The whiskey was a little sweeter than she would have expected, and it went down smooth.

Magnificent, isn’t it? Tremir called out to her.

Her lips curled into the hint of a smile. Yes. She turned her back on him, following the line of windows to the far side of the room. It was a bit of a gamble, but she was fairly certain that it would pay off.

She had been told on several occasions that Justice Keepers could see what was behind them as clearly as if they had eyes in the backs of their heads. Miri possessed no such ability, but there were other ways to monitor her surroundings.

She listened for the scuff of Tremir’s shoes on the floor; she watched his faint reflection in the window. She was aware of his presence long before he got within arm’s reach, but she didn’t turn around until he was almost on top of her.

The man froze, startled by her sudden movement, and took a cautious step backward. His apprehension faded in the blink of an eye, replaced by a friendly smile. Forgive me; I couldn’t help but notice you. You’re a bit overdressed for this place, don’t you think?

She was, but only by a hair’s breadth. Tremir himself wore somewhat formal attire: dark slacks and a high-collared shirt beneath a gray overcoat. It was the sort of thing he might put on for a fancy dinner party while her dress was better suited to a gala. Still, she wanted to make an impression.

He was handsome enough, Miri supposed: tall with only a handful of wrinkles on his copper-skinned face and a neatly-trimmed beard that showed only a few flecks of gray. His hair was cut short and parted to one side.

Answering his smile with one of her own, Miri chuckled. What good is a dress if it just sits in your closet? she replied. Maybe I was just looking for an excuse to wear it.

An excuse?

Maybe I was just looking for someone to wear it for.

Soft laughter escaped him, and his eyes closed halfway as he lifted a glass. Its contents were a deep shade of red; Miri couldn’t begin to guess what it was supposed to be. No matter. She had plenty of scintillating topics to discuss. I’ve never seen you in here before, Tremir noted.

I read an article that said this place had some of the best whiskey in Lentasa.

That’s true.

Cocking her head, Miri allowed her eyebrows to rise just a little. I decided I had to try it for myself.

More laughter bubbled out of Tremir. This time, he took a sip and moseyed over to the window. It was growing darker by the minute; the trees were little more than shadows to her eyes. I take it you’re a connoisseur of whiskey?

I’ve been known to sample a few varieties.

And what do you think? Does my club live up to its reputation?

Feigning a moment of hesitation, Miri went to stand beside him. She lifted her glass as if in a toast, her blurred reflection in the window doing the same, and offered another smile. Your reputation is safe, I assure you.

Good.

Sipping her drink, Miri savoured the taste and plotted her next move. So, you run this place?

He watched her from the corner of his eye, troubled by her question. He expected her to recognize him on sight. Just about anyone else would. The man was frequently on the…the…By the Eyes of Vengeance! What was the word for that blasted contraption that displayed images that had been recorded elsewhere?

I opened it, Tremir said. Can’t say I’m involved in the day-to-day operations. Not anymore. I’m much too busy these days.

Miri tittered, shaking her head as she peered through the window. Sounds like you’re a very important man, she observed. Maybe I should let you get back to work. She turned to go.

I can spare a few minutes. His words came out just a smidge too fast. As if he were eager to prevent her from leaving and doing his best to effect a façade of nonchalance. Only a trained ear would have noticed it. She had to give the man this much credit: he was almost as smooth as the whiskey.

Really? Miri said. And what is it that you do? Putting his back to the window, Tremir scowled, but she cut him off before he had a chance to speak. Actually, why don’t we start with your name?

Andreo Tremir. He said it as if that should answer all of her questions.

I see. And I take it you own several fine establishments like this one.

His scowl deepened, bordering on outright anger. Men like him were all alike: give them even one particle less than their due, and they would erupt in a tempest of indignation. And of course, their notion of what they were owed was always far inflated from what the rest of the world thought. I’m the councillor for this province! Tremir snapped.

And there it was.

The man was a politician, a member of the Leyrian System’s Council, the governing body for this planet and various settlements throughout this solar system. His dossier listed him as a prominent member of the Blue Party, an organization that had grown increasingly xenophobic in its dealings with other worlds.

Miri put on another smile that never touched her eyes. "Well then, I suppose you would be busy."

Well, I-

It can’t be easy trying to keep it all together.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Miri tossed back her whiskey, downing it all in one gulp. She lowered her hand and gave him a look that should have pinned him to the window. Please. We both know the Prime Council and his party have fallen out of favour now that the war’s over.

Leyria’s head of state had been instrumental in starting that war and had acquired emergency powers to keep it going. Miri had to suppress the urge to shudder. Like Tremir, Jeral Dusep was a Blue. By the Eyes of Vengeance, it could be argued that he was primarily responsible for the party’s recent shift toward xenophobic rhetoric.

Multiple planets trying to destroy each other with starships? The very thought made her blood run cold. On her world, the automobile was a new invention. She could barely fathom the prospect of travelling among the stars, much less conducting a war across the span of lightyears. Though it all served to confirm one undeniable truth: no matter how civilized they thought they were, humans would always find an excuse to kill each other.

She had been given a cursory overview of the conflict; it had begun when the Ragnosian fleet tried to annex a Leyrian colony. After that, Jeral Dusep – newly elected to the office of Prime Council – made an open declaration of war. And it just got worse from there.

I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Tremir countered. People want a strong leader.

Indeed. Which is why Dusep has to go. Smoothly, Miri lowered herself into an empty chair at a nearby table and crossed one leg over the other. She set her glass down and regarded Tremir just long enough to make the silence uncomfortable, waiting to see if he would react. He didn’t. He bungled the entire situation, and now, we’re worse off than we were a year ago.

Tremir offered a conciliatory smile. There were missteps, he admitted, claiming the chair across from her. But the Prime Council has guided us through these difficult times, and he will be needed in the days to come.

Miri raised a curious eyebrow. And why is that?

The war never officially ended. It only paused when both sides became aware of an even greater threat. He was referring to the Overseers, the enigmatic aliens who had orchestrated the conflict from the beginning. A group of Justice Keepers had revealed their meddling to the rest of the galaxy. Humans would take any excuse to fight each other, but they would just as quickly set aside their animosity when aliens got involved. That truth held nearly as strongly as the other. But now that threat is gone, and the tensions that gave rise to war still remain.

Do you expect the war to resume?

Tremir opened his mouth, but it seemed to occur to him that his reflections might find their way into the wrong ears. He collected himself with a deep breath. Anything is possible.

Interesting, Miri murmured. Perhaps you should tell me more. She added a smile that would make any man’s heart race. "After you pour me another drink."

He’s convinced the war is gonna start up again, Miri said. Her head was still throbbing after all that whiskey. And whatever that blue stuff was that Tremir had fed her. It had a fruity taste but a nasty bite.

Sitting in a cushioned chair with her legs stretched out under the desk, she winced at the bright lights in the ceiling. Today, she wore a pair of dungarees and a simple work shirt. Honest clothes for honest folk. It felt good to let her guard down, to cast aside the snooty socialite and let her natural persona shine through. At least, that was what she told herself. The truth was much harder to deal with.

This little office in the depths of an underground base had a desk that was covered in that fancy material the Leyrians used for their computers. SmartGlass, it was called. The ceiling lights were reflected on its clear surface. Other than that, there wasn’t much in the way of furniture or decorations. Just four gray walls.

The owner of this particular office, a woman by the name of Helana Shinak, sat on the corner of her desk. She was an older lady with more than a few creases in her pink cheeks and a bun of steely-gray hair.

With a deep breath, she absorbed the information Miri had relayed and nodded as though considering it. Politicians say many things, Miri. Their ability to predict future events leaves much to be desired.

Don’t know about that, Miri replied. But I can promise you that he’s sincere. We drank for the better part of two hours, and that loosened his tongue something fierce. Couldn’t hurt to look, don’t you think?

None of our agents have found any indication that the Ragnosians are planning to resume hostilities.

Helana – or Director Shinak, as she preferred to be called – was the head of the Leyrian Intelligence Service. After leaving her world, the first thing Miri had done was look for a job. Luckily, she knew a few people, and the good director was willing to give her a chance.

Hopping off the desk and grunting from the pain of sore knees, Helana paced across the room to the door. She spun around and stood in the corner. I’m impressed, she said. "When Director Tal recommended you to me, I had my doubts, but you were able to assume that role so flawlessly."

Just a matter of payin’ attention, ma’am.

I’ve seen agents who, after years of training, still can’t do what you did. Not as well as you did it, anyway. I’m going to play your recording for every batch of recruits that we train – once they receive the appropriate clearance, of course. I would appreciate it if you could add some notes for things that won’t come through in audio. Posture, demeanour, physical contact: that sort of thing.

Miri propped her feet up on the other woman’s desk – provoking a frown from Helana – and sat back with her arms folded. Happy to help, ma’am. But some of it ain’t stuff you can teach. Some of it’s stuff you have to live.

She had spoken with some of the LIS agents, and she already knew where they were going wrong. They believed that a character was like a coat you could put on or take off at your convenience, a mask you wore over your true personality. The ka’adri demanded much more from their recruits.

It wasn’t enough to simply act the part; you had to become that person, to think as they would. Once, when Miri was a girl, Casta Nin Jhareel had warned her about the cost of living that way.

The woman was a relentless harridan who would punish even the smallest lapse. The ka’adri were trained from the age of ten: trained to observe, to deceive and to kill. After their first year on the Compound, each child was given a new life. A false identity they would assume for the remainder of that year’s studies. In the third year, new identities were assigned every three months. And then at the end of every month by the time a child turned thirteen. New names, new accents, new histories: ka’adri recruits were expected to switch between them as easily as an ordinary man might change his shirt. And Casta would tolerate nothing less than perfection.

If the mask slipped once, it was ten slaps on the wrist. Twice meant an afternoon of hard labour. Three times…Well, that was when the instructors got creative. Very few children made it to the end of the program. Miri could still remember the one time when Casta had let the mask slip.

The old hag had found Miri crying in her bunk after receiving a few smacks from the disciplinary rod. At first, Casta’s face had been as hard as granite, but the scowl melted into a look of profound sadness. It will get easier, Miri, she promised. Perhaps too easy.

When Miri asked what she meant, Casta had explained that if you grew accustomed to switching between identities, you could lose all sense of who you really were. Only now, after years of living this life, did Miri understand how right she was.

The person she was today, the twit from a backward planet who didn’t know the first thing about basic etiquette? That wasn’t her true self. It was simply the identity she had worn longest. That kind of thing worked well when you were travelling through ramshackle towns and posing as a criminal. It was the personality she had assumed when she met Larani Tal. And when Larani introduced her to Helana Shinak, she had maintained that personality. Miri wore it now because it was what the other woman expected. When she searched the depths of her soul to find her true self, she came face to face with a disconcerting possibility.

Maybe she didn’t have one.

Our agents in the Prime Council’s inner circle believe that he intends to stay in office even if he loses the next election, Helana said. "Did Tremir divulge anything that might indicate how Dusep plans to accomplish this?"

Nothing solid, Miri replied. I’m more worried about the war.

Easing herself into her chair, Helana folded her hands on the desk and tilted her head like a bird as she studied Miri. You think Tremir’s claims are credible?

Pulling her feet off the desk, Miri stood up with a smile. Well, I admit I don’t know your system, but it seems to me that a man who’s worried about losing his power might decide to create a crisis.

The dark scowl on Helana’s face revealed more than the other woman might have liked. She didn’t know if Dusep could accomplish such a thing, but she wouldn’t put it past him. And that told Miri everything she needed to know.

We need credible information from Ragnos, Helana said.

I’d be happy to provide it, Miri replied. But I’m gonna need a team.

1

WHO’S THAT GIRL? IT’S KEZ!

Ragnos: Capital World of the Ragnos Confederacy

Submerged to her shoulders in bubbles, Kezia Berel sighed as she rested her head against the bath pillow. With her eyes closed, she delighted in the caress of hot water. This was the first time she had owned a bathtub since she was a girl. When she was ten, her mom had been lucky enough to rent a house with a full bathroom. They had stayed there for about a year, but after that, it was always showers. Usually, cold showers. Or, well, lukewarm.

Technically, she didn’t own this place; the apartment was a perk that came with her new job. But even so, the Leyrians were far more generous than she would have ever thought possible. They just gave you stuff when you needed it.

Turning her head with a sigh, she opened her eyes to check the clock on the wall. It was only…12:25! Oh, crap! It was evening already? She was going to be late!

Water sloshed as she climbed out of the tub and grabbed a towel off the rack. Wrapping herself, she proceeded across her bathroom on wet feet, every step producing an audible squish. No, no, no! That was no good! She would have to mop up the floor before she left! Agh!

Scrambling over to the mirror, she paused when she realized that it was completely fogged over. A quick scrub with the palm of her hand revealed just enough glass for her to check herself.

Everyone said that her face was her best feature. With an olive complexion, vibrant, hazel eyes and a tiny dimple in one cheek, she had a look that lots of boys found cute. And some girls too. Her dirty-blonde hair, cut in a short, chin-length bob, was wet at the tips. She would have to comb it. Oh boy, she didn’t have time to comb it.

Makeup! She needed makeup! Hastily, she pulled open a drawer and started fishing around for a good colour. A little blush on the cheeks, some dark-red lipstick…Wait, what was she doing? Get dressed first, then makeup! Gah!

Rushing into her bedroom, she pawed through the closet for some clothes. Nice, black pants and a matching top with the frills! That was good first-date attire, right? Right? She directed the thought to Jessa, but her Nassai was oddly silent on the matter.

Normally, the alien who resided in Kezia’s cells would reply with some kind of emotional guidance: warm, happy emotions if she approved, cold apprehensive ones if she didn’t. Their Bond was less than a year old, but they had become fast friends with Kez seeking Jessa’s advice on just about everything from home décor to battle tactics. But today, Jessa had nothing to say. Or nothing to feel. The Nassai didn’t talk; they just sent emotions at you. You had to go into a trance if you wanted to speak to your symbiont directly, and Kez was still struggling with that. Mental focus? Kind of not her thing. She had only managed it a couple times.

Throwing on her clothes, she hurried over to the full-length mirror in the corner. It had a duroplastic frame that was painted to look like wood, but you could tell the difference if you touched it. Much too smooth.

She looked…adequate.

As usual, her appearance provoked a bit of anxiety. She was short – the top of her head barely reaching the chest of a tall man – and more than a little on the plump side. And she had grown up in a culture that never ran out of ways to remind her of that. The burst of love and sympathy she felt from Jessa was almost enough to make her start crying. Now, where was she?

Right!

She needed shoes!

As she headed back to the closet, her multi-tool started buzzing. The small, disk-shaped device sat on her dresser, its touchscreen interface and the gauntlet where it normally resided sprawled out beside it.

Kez ran to answer the call, hopping over a pile of PJs that she had left on the floor. She grabbed the screen – the disk contained the central processor, but the interface would still link to it even if they weren’t directly connected – and swiped her finger across it.

The SmartGlass lit up with the words Audio only.

Hi, Kezia? Cam said through the speaker on the disk. So, she would need that after all. At least if she wanted him to hear her. Why was her date calling? Was he going to cancel on her?

Snatching the disk off the dresser, she raised it to her mouth. Um, hi, Cam, she replied, sitting on the edge of her unmade bed. Listen, I hope you’re not upset. I know our date starts in like- She checked the time. Twenty minutes. But I’m just running a little late. I’ll be there real soon, I promise!

Whoa! Whoa! It’s all right! Cam replied. I just wanted to tell you that the Vine is a little busy tonight, and maybe we should meet at Silver Arch instead.

Kez winced. That was even further from her apartment. Yeah, okay. Just give me a little time, and I’ll be there.

No problem!

He ended the call.

Retrieving her shoes, she hurried out of the bedroom and through the little hallway that led to her living room. When she passed the bathroom, she felt a waft of warm, muggy air that reminded her of the water she had left on the floor. She was about to grab a towel when she noticed the small, dome-shaped robot that did the job for her.

Her roommate, Winston – Melissa Carlson had suggested the name – emerged from the living room. Okay, roommate was a bit of a stretch. He was a tall, skinny robot with a chrome body and blue eyes that glowed.

Can I help you with anything, Ms. Kez? he asked.

Squeezing her eyes shut, a blush singeing her cheeks, Kez replied with a small smile. You’ve already helped me so much. She stood on her toes to kiss his metal cheek. I don’t know how I ever got by without you.

Winston was another gift from the Leyrians. Though technically not alive – his software was only a simulated intelligence and not a true AI – he was wonderful company.

I tried to interface with the local Network to arrange transportation, he said. But the cost of a personal driver is listed as three hundred and thirteen credits which is nearly a quarter of your monthly rent. As such, I thought it best to ask permission before purchasing a ride.

No ride needed, she said. I’ll walk.

The city does offer public transit, Ms. Kez.

Rolling her eyes, Kez let out a burst of cold laughter. Which comes once every hour if we’re lucky. And of course, the personal drivers charged exorbitant rates because she lived in the bad part of town. I have super stamina. I can handle a walk.

Winston examined