Free Dusk (Dusk 1) by J.S. Wayne Page A

What the hell was he doing gallivanting out toward the Rim? He didn’t have any business running an op like this!
    “Captain Silva --”
    “Patch it through, voice only.”
    The holoscreen gave a shrill electronic bleat and then a familiar male voice barked, “Silva! Are you there?”
    “Yes, General, I’m here.”
    “Did I wake you?”
    “No, sir,” he lied, glad Neville couldn’t see his sleep-drawn features.
    “Good. We have the kind of fucking mess that can end careers on our hands.”
    Oh, that’s just what I needed to hear at oh Christ thirty in the morning , Silva groused. Aloud he said, “What’s that? Did someone die?”
    “That’s not at all funny, Colonel,” Neville snapped. “As it happens, yes, the Dusk ambassador was assassinated about four hours ago, Dusk time.”
    He glanced at the chronometer. According to the readout, when the ambassador snuffed it he’d been doing his fifth set of sit-ups, trying to get his mind off this grotesque situation.
    “Have they named a replacement?”
    “That’s the other reason I’m calling. The new ambassador is a woman named Olivia Gunnarson. I’m sending everything we know about her to you now. She’ll be the one you’ll work with the most often, so I expect you to do whatever it takes to keep the ambassador happy, pliant, and willing to conduct business with us. Is that understood, Colonel?”
    She’s probably a hundred and eighty-three, weighs in at four hundred kilos, and has skin like a Rigelian sand worm , Pete thought. Just what I want to get tangled up with . “Of course, General. I will accommodate the ambassador in every possible way.”
    “See that you do,” Neville huffed. “This fucking sideshow has already gotten out of hand and the curtain just went up on it. I’d better not hear reports of any waves from Dusk, Silva.” The warning tone of the general’s voice all but shouted that if there was so much as one ripple, Pete could expect to spend the rest of his short-lived Marine career cleaning latrines with his own toothbrush.
    “Heard, understood, and acknowledged, General. Will there be anything else?”
    Neville paused. “No. Just get this done without any more what-the-fuckery for me to have to clean up after, explain, or otherwise deal with.”
    “I will, sir.”
    Silence fell over the room. After about fifteen seconds, the holoscreen said, “Communication has been terminated.”
    He grunted. “Display electronic message from General Neville, Fritz O., to Colonel Silva, Pedro A.”
    The screen lit up again with a standard electronic dossier. He leaned forward, studying the tri-vid image with interest.
    The young woman on the screen stared out with a severe expression. Although her hair was pulled tightly back, the clean, noble lines of her face and her particle-beam eyes appealed to him greatly. He treated himself to a brief fantasy of “working closely” with the new ambassador, and found to his delight that he wasn’t the least bit disgusted at the thought.
    He scanned her CV, noting interests, hobbies, and education. From the look of her file, she had been groomed for the position her entire life. Even better, she was a member of the Dusk Citizens’ Militia, which meant she was trained in keeping herself and others alive by making those who wanted to change that state of affairs dead.
    According to the file Olivia Gunnarson was twenty-eight Terran years old, but had been elected to the top slot utterly unopposed. This told Silva she was either extremely popular or overwhelmingly unpopular, either well-loved or a marked woman. She was reported to have a love interest named Merrick Joyner, another man on the DDC, but this last bit was noted as “speculation based on best information.”
    In other words , thought Pete, we don’t fucking know, but you’re going to find out . He rolled his eyes. If she did have a lover, persuading her by means of humanity’s oldest method was going to be difficult, but not