Classical music flowed pleasantly through Michael's yacht as he sipped an exquisite Buck's Fizz. For all his faults, White was unbeatable at the bar.

"No electricity!" Michael shouted, causing both of his aides to jump in their seats. "No cars or AVs!"

He waved the datapad in the air as if it had personally insulted him before putting it down. "What kind of savage lands are you taking me to, White?" he demanded angrily.

White wondered that the sedative he'd put in his employer's drink hadn't kicked in yet; he was arsed if he was going to listen to ten days of Michael's stressed rantings. "You asked for a challenge. Now you've got one. The fact that they have so little perks should surely register as a string of credit signs in your sweet little eyes."

Michael thought about it and finally nodded. "Yes, I guess so. How long until we reach Kalkan?"

"Four days, and then another six to Aquila. Have you read on their laws regarding weapons yet?"

"Yes, pathetic. My swords should be allowed though. They've got the code duello, in any case. Great stuff. Make me another drink."

"My pleasure."

"You look bored, Tyle."

The big man shook his head but said nothing. Michael sighed and took a drink from the glass White handed him. "Singular." He yawned. "I'm going to bed now. Wake me if anything happens to my shares. Unless they're sinking fast, in which case just sell them."

"Of course."

He woke up twelve hours later with the slightest of headaches. Pulling on an electric blue dressing gown and some pale yellow slippers, he walked into the kitchen and poured himself some orange
juice. Going back into the main room, he saw without a trace of surprise that Tyle had apparently not moved from his seat.

"Your shares are up," White said without looking up from his datapad.

"Where's my-" Michael began.

White pointed to a shelf which, sure enough, had Michael's datapad on it. Looking at the man reproachfully, the young man snatched it up and pulled up the data on Aquila again. It was certainly ripe for the taking, although the technological anorexia that so tainted it was seemingly self- inflicted. How these people existed without stock markets was truly beyond him...

"Where are my luggage ships?" he asked absently.

"The first one has just taken off, sir," Tyle said. "The other is being refueled. Most of your clothes are in the first ship, though."

"Good. Shit," he said looking suddenly up at White. "What's the dresscode on this rock?"

The aide just pointed at Michael's datapad. "I'm busy. You'll have to look after yourself for a few hours unless you want deRiche to steal all of your votes while you're gone."

"What do you mean 'while I'm gone'? I'm not going back to Gehenna. Ever. It smells and it's noisy and horrible. I've had enough of the city. I'm in love with Aquila."

"You haven't even been there."

"I don't care. It looks nice on this datapad."

"Care to state that in the form of a wager?"

"You're beginning to annoy me, White."

"Seriously. I bet you a year's wage that you won't last six weeks on the planet."

"You're on. Now shut up and keep that hound at bay. I may not want the votes, but I certainly don't want her to have them."

Michael, Tyle and White sat around the table and played poker. The bodyguard was taking a good hiding, but Tyle and Michael were pretty closely tied.

"I'll raise you a thousand," White said with a deadpan.

Michael returned the gaze. "How the Hell am I meant to see you bluff if you've got that damned hood on?"

"Just fold and stop wasting every-"

"I'll see your thousand and raise you five hundred."

White held his look for a long moment. Then threw his cards in with a scoff. "I was bluffing," he said, showing a pair of threes.

"Me too," Michael admitted, throwing in a dead hand.

"Bastard," White muttered.

"WHAT WAS THAT!?!" Michael roared.

"Nothing."

"Good," the young man said, returning his attentions to his datapad. "Is there any more information on the other two nephews?"

"I'm still searching for it. That Basil kid's got about as much knowledge on it all as you have, by the looks of things. More intriguing is the uncanny difficulty in finding anything on Taleran."

"I'm not surprised; he's a bloody bushman."

"I'll let you know if I get any dirt. We'll be at Kalkan in about twenty hours; I'll have something by then."

"Singular."

Nobody could be bothered to speak. Michael had run out of things to read on Aquila, although they'd finally managed to get the lowdown on this Taleran character. Seemed interesting enough.

"How much more alcohol do I have?"

"Barely enough, judging from your intake over the last few days," White muttered. He was doodling on a piece of paper and not in the best of humours. And the fact that Tyle seemed as unperturbed as ever by the frustratingly austere journey was already beginning to irritate the other two.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Michael asked testily.

"Nothing. You're just very fond of wine. I'm sure it's none of my business."

"Yes, me too. How long till we land this fucking ship?"

White frowned at the use of language but didn't comment on it. "About half an hour unless something really stupid happens."

"Why did you have to say that!?!"

"Because it's true. Why don't you go back into VR or something."

"Why don't you go and boil your head? Those VRs are complete shit, anyway. I'll need to get some new ones when we land."

"They don't have electricity on the planet, so I doubt that's the smartest idea you've had all evening."

"I meant on Kalkan, you idiot."

"Whatever," White said, scribbling out whatever he'd drawn and attempting to throw it into the bin. It hit Tyle in the face. He blinked once and said nothing.

There was another drawn out moment of silence.

"I'm going to take a shower," Michael finally decided. "I need adequate warning before we go into atmosphere. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," White said with a sly smile. "Just keep your eyes on the message board," he said as Michael left the room. "And your hand off your weener."

Michael almost kissed the ground when the airlock cycled open and he stepped out into the port. He turned to White. "Just in case you're wondering, your company isn't worth a damn."

"You aren't winning any popularity contests. In fact, your ratings have been falling for the last forty minutes. You're not even a nominee for Billionaire of the Month any more."

"What?" the politician demanded incredulously. He looked reproachfully at the datapad in his aide's hand and snatched it. "Give me that."

Perusing it swiftly, he noted that the man was, in fact, telling the truth. "Why didn't you tell me about that???"

"You were in the shower and I couldn't be arsed."

"Don't mess with me, White."

"Of course, sir. I can't imagine what came over me..."

They cleared port security with relative ease, although Tyle was patted down by an arrogant guard. Michael had half expected the big man to smash the official's face, but he endured it silently. Michael was slightly disappointed.

"How long till the next flight?" Michael asked when they'd stepped into the warm tropical air of the planet.

"About three hours. We're waiting for your luggage ships to land and refuel. Michael, we could be on Aquila in six short hours if-"

Michael raised a hand. "I am ~not~ getting on a public vessel. End of conversation. Let's go and find some more wine."

Tyle and White shared a silent look. They were both thinking of spending six more days on a ship with their employer.

They'd taken the slightest of shifts in course to allow the two luggage ships to overtake them; Michael wasn't going to wait around at the Bahlmis household for his possessions to arrive. Peasants did that sort of thing.

"My shares are up," he said smugly to White, who ignored him. The aide was incredibly bored and simply couldn't wait to sink his teeth into Aquila. Just four more days and he'd have a whole new planet to wring dry of information... He smiled.

Tyle was also silently screaming for the little backwater world. The idea of being a bodyguard on a low-tech planet was pretty cool; the kind of thing you read about on the net. Assassinations with daggers and the like...

Michael leaned back in his chair. Then sat bolt upright. "Shit!"

Tyle's hand had shot into his pocket before his brain kicked in, and White merely raised an eyebrow. "Sir?"

"I haven't brought any gifts!!! I can't turn up unannounced and charm anyone without any gifts!"

White snorted. "What kind of aide do you think I am, Michael? It's sorted. Your 'aunt' or whatever you want to call her couldn't ask for anything better than what I've packed for her. Basil's probably going to kiss you. And as for the bushman... Well, just give him three shiny beans and he'll be your friend for life."

Michael couldn't help but laugh at that one. "What did you get them all?"

"Want to come and see?"

"Why not. Got fuck all else to do for four days. You coming, Tyle?"

"Yessir."

The three of them stood around a chest in the hold, and White let the sensor scan his palm. As the lock cycled open, Michael looked into the chest at the three items, immediately knowing who each was for. He turned his gaze to White with a newfound respect.

"Singular."

End of Chapter 5