Stars Rise

LXX. Hora Sexta - Part 3

Justin Marius's home had its own tower to rival the highest vistas in the city, including that of the Constellation building.

It soared a few hundred feet up from the rooftop deck on top of his family's manor, a slender white column with three viewing levels, the topmost open to the sky.

There, on the highest observation deck, Justin sat alone at a table for two and wondered who had assassinated the president for him. The tower revolved slowly to complete one revolution an hour and currently set Justin facing away from the downtown core and out toward residential neighborhoods and the bay. The light from a thousand houses, some with levitating towers of their own, glimmered on the calm barely waves.

Footsteps echoed on the staircase that circled the tower. Justin didn't permit links to the top; one had to come through a link from inside Justin's mansion, come out at the bottom of the tower, and take the stairs up to the viewing platform.

Franco came up panting at the top of the stairhead and took the seat across from Justin. Between them on the small white round table were Justin's roses, not in a vase but suspended upright, two perfect roses that had been perfect for decades. They still looked as if they had been picked today.

The roses had floated over the table for every single one on one meeting Justin hosted at his observation tower. With a swipe of his hand, Justin adjusted them so they didn't block his view of Franco, who had caught his breath and looked ready to speak. Justin waited.

It was dark, but Justin could see the accusation on Franco's face, along with frustration, confusion. None of the emotions Justin would have expected the moment after the removal of their primary opponent.

"I have a problem," said Franco. He looked like he didn't know how to put it, but Justin waited with his hands folded on the table for him to figure it out. "Not with any of our targets or the opposition, it's to do with one of our own. Someone I would think you wouldn't want to be unsatisfied, Justin. There was a time when any of our unhappiness would have kept you up at night, and that's what's gotten you this close to the presidency. But Candra asks you for just one thing and you can't do it for her. So I have to ask you. Why is there still a Dasilva alive on this planet?"

"You tell me," said Justin. "That's your operation, why have you failed?"

The accusatory look was back. "Not for lack of trying. A dozen attempts to kill Nova Dasilva in six months, most of them in the past week since I've been connected to the Potestas router. At first it seemed simple luck, which was reasonable considering I have to make it look like an accident. But the poison necklace I had Calo Gloriam send her barely gave her a skin rash.

"I'm not an idiot, Justin. Someone's protecting her, and it's either some kind of genius who can predict exactly how I'm coming every time, or someone who already knows the plan. So please, explain why you won't let me do the job."

Justin adjusted uncomfortably in his seat. He preferred to be honest with his people, so he took a breath and aimed for the truth. "I haven't made up my mind yet. Consider me stalling for time. She has proved useful alive. If we had eliminated her six months ago when Candra first asked, how would we have connected our people to Potestas router?"

"Well, I'm connected to the router now. Stephen connected me himself, I've seen him twice today and he shows no sign of suspicion against me. He won't disconnect me. We don't need her anymore. Give me a reason not to forget this accident business and just shoot Nova Dasilva in the chest. Candra has been loyal to you."

"Hasn't Nova Dasilva been loyal to me?"

Franco sputtered. He hadn't considered that, apparently, and didn't know what to say until he did. "That's not loyalty, it's mind control," he snapped.