The Toveil chime spire sang its morning serenade through the salt-tinged frosty air of Glasne as Rojt made his way up the steps of the depository. He was careful to remain out of the holographic path of the lines of light used to establish the path of the hovercar.
The vehicle itself had been lifted out of the way by crane. That had been necessary so that medical personnel could retrieve Starko's remains.
After emerging from the service car that delivered him from the High Moot tower, Rojt had spoken to the investigative liaisons from the Toveil and Konterbeid castes at their bivouac site in front of the sports arena. Starko's ruined hovercar was parked nearby, surrounded by glowing yellow shock striping and affixed with holographic markers for areas of interest to those gathering the evidence.
Rojt had asked the liaisons for a full report and then he worked the timeline against the stamps on his communications from Kjernkor to Glasne.
Something had gone horribly wrong, his beloved Starko was dead, the fugitives remained on the run, and the timing suggested that Rojt's message urging the immediate elimination of Dira Urtigo and Aldur Bokren might have instigated it.
When he reached the entrance to the deposit box chamber, Rojt found a team of Konterbeid evidence specialists sweeping sensors over the rust-red splotches that had originated from Starko. He listened as they recited statistics and objective data without emotion, storing the information on holocrystals while they worked: Subject stood 8 foot 5 inches tall. Vehicle traveled at a high rate of speed, retrojets at full power. The angled hood struck the victim at a perpendicular angle, just above the waist, effectively bisecting the body. The victim had died within seconds. Severe damage to the vehicle suggested that the victim had discharged the weaponized nanoglove prior to death, most likely in an effort to defend himself against his attacker.
Rojt frowned. Just like a technopriest to think the gadget would do all the work for him. Starko should have known better. He had the advantage. He could have taken two steps, put himself outside the driver's side door, and vaporized the driver without sustaining so much as a bruise. The perils of sending a Toveil to do the job of a Ledelkrig warrior, Rojt realized.
"The Grand Moot is understandably furious about this turn of events," Gridan said, arriving at the top of the steps to stand beside Rojt, joining the warrior in observation of the crime scene experts. His own car waited along the sidewalk, parked directly across from the liaison station. "Sloppy. Careless. And, of course, they escaped. I thought Starko had gone out of his way to make himself appear to be their protector and defender?"
The old Konterbeid had access to the same records that Rojt did. Probably more. So, the soldier had little doubt that Gridan was toying with him. "It would seem that one of the targets intercepted my communique telling Starko to accelerate their execution," Rojt said.
"Would it?" Gridan said, chuckling darkly. "Yes, well, unlucky for Starko then, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes," Rojt agreed, seething. His jaw clenched. He wanted very much to shove the old Hekayti down the steps. He wanted to shatter every bone in Gridan's body and then ask how funny he thought THAT was. He restrained himself, though. Better to save his rage for Aldur Bokren and Dira Urtigo. "I'll track them down myself and kill them."
Gridan's brow knitted. "Rojt, I'm sorry, but the Grand Moot thinks that you may no longer be the appropriate person for this particular assignment."
"You mean YOU think I'm wrong for it," the warrior growled. His fingers tightened into fists. It was all he could do not to deck the supposedly wise elder Hekayti. A seasoned veteran of the commerce drought, Gridan earned a well-deserved reputation for shrewd gamesmanship. Few could hope to outwit him. Outliving him might prove to be an even greater challenge. He was owed many favors, knew many secrets, and enjoyed the protection of numerous benefactors. Not a man to be crossed for any price.
The Konterbeid inclined his head, scratching his chin. "I must confess that I have my doubts at this point. Your soldiers failed to kill Aldur Bokren in the parking garage. They were thwarted by a *female* in a *bakery*. You couldn't smoke them out of a Toveil technopriest bunkhouse. And then you got your trusted friend murdered because you failed to follow fundamental government message encryption protocols. Really, Rojt, I expect someone with this level of incompetence to manage to wear their pants backwards."
"It is personal for me now," Rojt replied. His eyes drifted to the bloodstain spatters on the concrete and glass. "I will redeem myself, if allowed the chance." He turned his gaze back toward Gridan. "I have seen it this far. I will not fail again."
The aged Konterbeid nodded, a faint smile on his lips as he clasped his hands behind his back. "All right, Rojt. One more chance. Follow their trail. Kill them both. Do not return to Hekayt Prime without success. We will not have you. Is this understood?"
"It is," the warrior answered.
"Good," Gridan said, resting a hand on Rojt's shoulder. "Come. Ride with me. My driver will see you safely to the spaceport."
Rojt tilted his head, eyes narrowing as a grim smile spread across his face. "Why would you need to do that, sir? I *can* find my own way offworld." The last person this old wolf gave a ride to got ambushed in a Glasne parking garage and narrowly escaped with his life. Rojt wouldn't put it past either Gridan or the Grand Moot to arrange for his execution at this point. They were all clear enough about their displeasure. But he wouldn't go willingly to slaughter.
The old Hekayti nodded, removing his hand from the shoulder. He frowned. "Yes, of course, but I thought it would only be courteous to make the offer."
"The offer is appreciated," Rojt lied adroitly.