The Heart of Ailonsileah

Chapter 2

The Heart of Ailonsileah

By Gareth Vaughn

The dimly-lit metal and glass of the room glowed and pulsed with energy. Chatter was subdued in that elite kind of way, where those who gossiped made an attempt not to cause a cacophony of rumor. Despite his guise as staff, Shay still felt out of place, gloved and garbed as he was in the Tannensky house colors. The tray of flutes he balanced on his fingertips shook slightly. He was sure his accent was too low-class to pull this off.

“Peach sunset champagne?” he asked, offering the tray to a stunning young woman in a glittery salmon-red dress. Even her brown skin shimmered like it was covered in tiny galaxies. “From Fruhe 4, a rare vintage.”

Her perfect fingers reached out and took hold of the stem of a flute in an elegant motion without comment and without sparing a glance at Shay. As she disappeared into the crowd, his unease didn’t abate. He was far too sweaty to be here, too far out of his element. His skills were good, but he wasn’t certain they were elite-class good. He swallowed, only realizing the action was audible when Jerran’s voice crackled through his earpiece.

“Keep it together, Shay. You’ve done this s**t a million times before.”

Shay didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. He took a few conscious breaths and moved through the crowd, trying to edge closer to Bekkah Tannensky. Middle aged yet still fabulous in style and demeanor, Bekkah was the host of the current event, and Shay’s current target. If his team had done everything right, she had no idea they were about to sweep in and rob the hell out of her.

“Excuse me,” said a voice far below Shay. He blinked, looked down, saw a ten-year-old boy dressed in clothing more expensive than Shay’s entire wardrobe back on the illegal ship. “I would like one of those.”

The boy was pale, freckled, blue-eyed—and looked like he’d kick Shay in the shin if he refused. But what did he care? It wasn’t like he was here to uphold the law. He leaned down and offered the tray to the child. The boy’s eyes glittered with the triumph of someone who hadn’t expected such a desirable outcome, and he snatched a flute and disappeared into the crowd before Shay could change his mind.

“Pay attention,” hissed Jerran in his ear. “She’s about to start.”

The crowd had grown quieter, although no less tense. The unveiling was about to happen, and Shay was as eager as everyone else to get a look at the Heart, though he wiped his face of expression, needing everyone to take him as a bored, uneducated server. As everyone hushed he got eyes on Andy again, lurking near a doorway not far from Bekkah. Good. If he needed her, she was there for him. More than he could say for Jerran, despite assurances. Shay and Andy had worked together countless times and he knew she had his back—less so with Jerran, for all his bluster about untraceable, undetectable fireweapons, he was still new to their group.

The already dim lights dimmed further. The smoothly contoured metal and glass of the room no longer glowed, the space feeling tighter and colder than ever. Shay was acutely aware just how close they all were to the vacuum of space, here on the Tannensky orbital, despite the thick walls and the top-of-the-line shielding and the latest in graviplating that actually felt like real planetary pull. Everyone hushed. A faintly blue light shone on Bekkah, setting the swirl of galaxy patterned gown she had to sparkling.

“I’d firstly like to thank you all for coming out of your way to my humble orbital to share in this historic experience,” she said, striding to the center of the room. She was cool, at ease—probably smelled good, too. Shay was beginning to worry about himself with how hot and sweaty he was. He wanted to set the tray down.

“Get closer,” hissed Jerran in his ear.

Shay cast a glance at Andy, who tilted her head as though in warning. He agreed. Close enough for now. No need to unsettle Bekkah’s guards, wherever they were, with a staff member too nosy for his own good.

“As you know from my interactive invitation, the Heart of Ailonsileah was thought lost to time for centuries. It was even a bit of a legend to some. No doubt there are even those of you among us here today whose sole interest is in seeing me be made a fool, as you believe no such artifact exists. I’d say I hate to disappoint you, but I really don’t.” She paused for the crowd to offer polite chuckles. “Now, as I truly cannot do the piece justice, I’ll step aside and let my appraiser, Dr. Galenn Moone, assail your ears for a while.”

Bekkah faded from the bluish glow to light applause, and Jerran’s voice filled Shay’s ear again.

“Watch for the Heart. This is our chance for assessment.”

Shay bit back the urge to snap that he knew how this worked; his comm was to be used for emergencies only, otherwise as a way for Jerran and Andy—and Kell, back on the ship—to monitor him, not to bicker with his shipmates. Still, Shay had stolen an item or two in his time and he didn’t need to be coached by the new guy.

Dr. Galenn Moone stepped from the shadows, demeanor comfortable, expression pleasant. He looked well fed and well maintained, as well as decked out in tech, although not obviously. His eyes were currently a red-gold-purple color scheme that screamed visual interface to Shay’s experienced eye. While they could be regular contacts or surgery, the way Galenn’s gaze faded out now and then indicated otherwise. His suit had a subtle sheen to it which spoke of expensive fashion—and ability to hide miniscule tech tools with ease. Shay gritted his teeth.

“Careful,” said Jerran into his ear. “He may be one of her lackeys.”

Shay rolled his eyes at Andy, who ignored him. He told himself at least Jerran could spot a threat.

“I could bore you all with my credentials, but you didn’t come here to see me, after all,” said Galenn. The audience chuckled again. Everything was fake niceties with these people. “A quick recap, then. Not so many lightyears from here, a gorgeous planet once orbited a dying star. The people of that world had a complex relationship with the star, which they called Ailonsileah, for they knew it was only a matter of time before its death throes claimed them, too. Yet while they had substantial technologies and crafts capable of spaceflight, they were not at a point where they could either flee or undo the star’s imminent implosion. Their fate, unfortunately, was unavoidable.

“It was a tragedy. The people of this world excelled at many skills we still have rudimentary grasps on. Art, for one. And while they could not prevent Ailonsileah from dying, still they were capable of carving away a piece of its innermost pulse. The greatest talents of the time worked on the piece, crafted to be kept by those who attempted to flee. A piece of home. The Heart of Ailonsileah.”

As he spoke, he stroked the cuff of his left sleeve, a little motion ending in a kind of twist of the pad of his finger. Shay doubted anyone had noticed it but him. The motion activated a pedestal before him, buried in the floor, which rolled up silently and smoothly, velvety cloth draped over the top, concealing what lie beneath.

“I could relate to you what few historical facts we know of these people, what we’ve gleaned from debris and artifacts we’ve plucked out of that sector over the centuries. But you are not here for that. You are here to witness the legend, see with your own eyes the height of Ailonsilesh artistic genius, the great creation mentioned in their decaying logs and scrawled in their ancient scripts on paperthin metalpad notebooks. You are here for nothing short of the Heart of Ailonsileah itself, miraculously retrieved from the void of space in a burnt-out old solar system, and today you are the lucky few who have that historical privilege.”

“I’m tempted to put a round in his lung just to cut his air supply in half.” Jerran’s words were short in Shay’s ear. “Get on with it, asshole. We got a schedule to keep.”

Galenn glanced dramatically around the room, eyebrow c****d. Shay liked the slight twist of his mouth, just the hint of itspresence there striking him as cocky rather than confident. He probably wasn’t sweating in his suit like Shay was.

Then, when it felt like everyone had stopped breathing, Galenn pulled the velvet cloth off the pedestal in a smooth, swift motion.

The Heart of Ailonsileah. It perched on a stand under glass, shimmering. It was a bizarre thing—created to look like an organ, yet inexplicably close to a heart-shape. The chambers were obvious and many, the color metallic and black with a hint of every other color underneath. It did not seem to glow. The size was larger than expected, at least as large as a small housecat.

And it was a fake.

Shay clocked it immediately, Andy, too, by the sound of her muttered swearing.

“Get closer,” hissed Jerran.

People were murmuring. Shay could hear suspicion among their chatter. He glanced up at Galenn and their eyes met; Galenn’s mouth seemed to visibly smirk. Shay’s heart practically stopped—he couldn’t tell if Galenn had him made, or simply was gloating to a willing participant.

“I have, of course, authenticated the real Heart of Ailonsileah,” said Galenn, causing the chatter to die off a moment before roaring back with indignant intensity.

“You mean this isn’t real?” asked the woman in the salmon-red dress. Her eyes flashed sharp as lasers.

“Please, please,” said Bekkah, sweeping back over with hands held up. She nodded to Galenn with a grim sort of smile and he fell back. “This is indeed a replica. But a taste of the real thing. I can’t have the real Heart of Ailonsileah in a room with so many people, much as I may trust each and every one of you individually.”

“What is she, the new Jimmie Kaiser IV?” muttered someone to Shay’s left.

He got that reference, more because his group had made the mistake of trying to rob the man early on in their careers. Jimmie Kaiser IV was a collector of rarities whose entire display was painstakingly crafted holosculptures of the work he owned. Where he kept the originals, no one knew. Some said he didn’t have them at all. Regardless, the rumors had never bothered Jimmie, who gloated often about new acquisitions and never showed off anything other than a fake.

Shay did want to get closer. He tried to press his way through the crowd by offering tense guests more expensive champagne. Some took him up on it. He edged around to Bekkah’s right, a little closer than he had been, and tried to ignore the feel of Galenn’s eyes on him. He didn’t want to glance over and confirm the art appraiser was looking at him; it would only make Shay sweat more.

“I am not saying you cannot view the Heart of Ailonsileah,” said Bekkah, and the noise finally died down. “If you managed to listen through your entire invitation, you are already aware I brought you here today to ask for money.” She paused for chuckles, but no one was in the mood to be polite. Bekkah cleared her throat, a little nervous to Shay’s eye, and continued. “Well. I didn’t ask you here to gloat, or at least not to spend so much time gloating. I’m giving you the opportunity to see one of the galaxy’s rarest works of art, but I’m making you pay to do it. You see, an organization very dear to me—one that does simply stellar work with disadvantaged youth on backwater planets—is in dire need of funding. For any donation—any donation at all—to the Fair Child Fair Chance Fair Futures Project, you will get a private viewing of the Heart of Ailonsileah.”

The man next to Shay drained his flute, set it loudly on the tray, and took another. The crowd murmured.

“Bekkah, dear,” he said, full champagne in his grasp, “I’m more inclined to be generous if a larger amount meant something in return.”