The press conference had gone deliciously; the public were eating his latest campaign up with spoons. Michael adjusted his jacket, crafted of a rare and expensive material that changed its colour to compliment the surroundings of its wearer. "Tyle?" he said to his bodyguard.

"Yessir," came the immediate reply through his com.

"I want some dirt on that idiot that asked about increased radiation levels around the new station."

"Consider it done."

"And get my PR guy into my office sharpish. If you have to drag him out of another meeting I'm sure I won't mind. And then take the day off."

"Sir?"

Michael could almost see the vacant expression on the large man's face, and couldn't help a smile.

"That's right. I'm sure that the assassins will be willing to leave me alone until the morning."

"Yessir. Thank you, sir."

The line went dead as Michael stepped into his AV. "Good afternoon, Targon," he said pleasantly to the driver, then turned to the other man that sat in the back with him. The man was of a slight build, maybe as tall as five and a half feet and slim enough to walk out of a low-tech jail cell. A cape a cowl covered his frame and face quite effectively. He was exactly the kind of person you'd walk unconciously past in the street, perhaps giving him a wide berth without even thinking about it. Perfect.

"Any news, White?"

"Of course, Michael," came the rasping reply. "Your shares are up by an average of ten percent-"

"Singular."

"-opinion polls are beginning to slow to a comfortable zenith, although the same can be said for at least four of your major rivals-"

"Okay."

"-and the Liberals have taken another seat."

"Pathetic. Never mind, this meeting should sort it all out. I need a future in YUsyl Trading Corporation; but about two thousand credits on it, maturation in three months." He sighed. "White?"

"Yes?"

"D'you ever get the feeling that its all becoming too...easy? I mean, at my age I should still be in college, not taking the political and financial worlds by the gonads. Somewhere out there, there's a challenge waiting for me."

"Of course, sir."

Michael looked at the little man through narrowed eyes. "Do not humour me, White. Targon? Have you fallen asleep behind that wheel? Or whatever you're flying with? My class starts in ten minutes, step on it!"

"En garde!"

Michael saluted grandiosely and fell into his stance. The world froze for a second, and only he and his opponent existed. When the signal came, they both burst into animation, and the dance began. Truly invigorated, the young man turned his opponent's foil effortlessly away time and again, sending a few warning blows back himself.

The man was good. Excellent, in fact. He showed practically no weaknesses and his offense was nothing if not relentless. Waiting patiently for an opening, Michael feinted a jab before falling back. As the inevitable reposte flew back at him, he sprung forward, catching his opponent off centre and delivering a winning lunge. The woman removed her mask, breathing slightly heavily. "Good call, Caedelle. We still know who's the best."

"Get over it, Gabby. I'll beat you any time you like."

She smiled, shaking her blonde hair out. "Wanna state that in the form of a wager?"

"Yes, actually."

"Good," Gabrielle said, turning to Tyle who stood motionlessly at the door. Apparently an invitation to take the day off didn't include the afternoon... "Tyle, will you bear witness to this bet?"

The big man turned silently to Michael, who nodded, intrigued.

"Name your price, my lady."

The smile was gone from her face, now. In its place stood an avaricious gaze and glinting eyes. "We'll fight to first blood. If I win you give me that lovely AV that you're hiding beneath your penthouse."

"And if I win," he said, without asking how she knew about the vehicle in question. "I've got you at my beck and call for seventy- two hours. You'll do anything I tell with the optional exception of illegal activities."

"Done."

He raised his helmet, and she raised a hand.

"I said first blood." With a deft flick, she drew a real sword and fell into her stance. "Feel free to back out."

Michael looked at her through narrowed eyes. The bitch was trying to play him, to make him quit and lose by default. The very idea enraged him. Throwing the foil aside, he draw his own sword and nodded. "En garde."

He got into the car and snatched a bandage from his aide who had the vaguest of smiles on his face. "I don't want to hear it, White. That stupid little bitch just hustled me."

"I watched the entire exchange, Michael. She seemed pretty within her bounds."

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!" Michael exploded. "Youdon't trip people over in bloody duel!"

"Nobody made any mention of codes of-"

"Oh, shut up! You're lucky you're so good at your damned job, mister. And you better hope I don't find someone better, or even close to as good," he added, applying a dressing to his wound. "Chauffeur, get a line through to my house. I want that regenerater fully cycled by the time I get in."

"Care for some interesting news?" White asked with another, deeper smile.

"Tyle," Michael said to the man sitting on his other side. "Would you be so good as to push White out of my AV. He can consider himself fired."

White raised a hand, even as the giant began to move. "You spoke of new challenges, new horizons. Will you now change your mind and slip into a world you've already conquered, all because you allowed a pretty young lady to wound you?"

"I didn't allow her to-"

"Yes you did. We both know that the vehicles's bugged and tracked. And that I personally saw to it that her people found out about its existence, under your direction."

"Yes, well I don't care about the AV. It's the fact that she thought I'd pull out of the fight when she pulled the steel on me. Anyway, I want to know where she keeps the other vintages; my factor in Sheol isn't going to wait all year for them. Now what's this you're talking about?"

The man simply removed a datapad and handed it to the politician- cum-bootlegger. Michael skimmed through it, then froze, his expression dissolving into genuine astonishment. "Is this some kind of-"

"Not at all, sir. You're a candidate for a major slice of the pie on another world. All you need do is turn up, express your vast and diverse talents, and the world is literally your oyster."

Michael looked up at him, his mouth agape. "Take yourself a bonus from my coffers, my good man. Tyle, get my yacht prepped, and pack yourself some underwear. We three are going to Aquila."

End of Chapter 3