"Goooood evening, ladies and gentlemen. Coming live to your holo-display from the GMG Chrome Angel Towers on the glorious colony of Celestine, this is the Society News Hour. Introducing your host, the daring, the candid, the audaciously fashionable, Mr. Salinger Reid!"

Mr. Reid's face appeared, his smile and pompadour shining with his obnoxious brass microphone. He winked and waved. Jazz intro music jounced in cadence with the camera cuts. Images of celebrities and aristocrats flipped between, marking the show's most momentous coverage throughout its nearly five decades of airtime. The Society News Hour was almost as old as the War itself, and yet it remained more of a gossip and lifestyle broadcast than genuine news. Tonight's episode was different, if what Reuben and Tamsin said was true. 

Gerald and I lounged in the common room at Lyons House with Reuben, a large bowl of buttered popcorn between us. The holo-display cast a brash blue and silver glow along my friends' profiles.

"Welcome to our pre-Yule broadcast, friends across the worlds! We have so many amazing stories for you tonight. Absolutely stunning." Mr. Reid glanced over his shoulder at someone off camera. "Yes, and one is rather...unusual. But first, the latest on the garish split this week between socialite Gertrude Kaylis and lev-field mogul, Peter Makulich."

Gerald sighed. "You'd think with this big news they'd skip all the fluff and get right to it."

"It's just how GMG does things," Reuben said with a shrug. "Most of our viewers care more for the antics of vacant-brained actresses and heirs than the serious goings-on. We have to please the masses first."

I grabbed another handful of popcorn. "How typical."

"Why can't you just tell us what it's all about?" Gerald asked.

"Not my style to spoil a moment that's sure to set both of your families' company far ahead for the foreseeable future," said Reuben.

Gerald tossed a piece of popcorn into his mouth and crunched loudly. "Alright, then. I hope it's all that. My father has no love for the Prynnes, so I'm sure it'll make his day."

We chatted through the first segment, and the dull commercial breaks. Then, at last, Mr. Reid adjusted his tie before the camera, the studio lights glistening like stars across his sequined suit jacket.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, we have most fascinating news. An anonymous parcel arrived here at our headquarters on Celestine last week. And what information it contained! I'm sure you all will love to hear this letter which arrived with the most scandalous files."  He put a pair of spectacles on, and unfolded a piece of paper. "It reads: Dear Mr. Reid and staff of Gable Media Group; my identity is of no concern, but be certain I am a viable witness. I have close contact with the upper management and executive board members of Lovejoy-Prynne, and have been privy to their inner circles for many years. For reasons both moral and personal, I present to you this evidence of illicit business dealings on the part of Vice President and Chairman Mr. Miles Prynne. I've smuggled this out of the company database, at much risk to my own person. Please review the material, and present it on your broadcast for all to see. The worlds must know how such a scoundrel is endangering free society with his selfish endeavors, and as such he must answer for his treason and greed. Signed, A concerned citizen."

Gerald's eyes and mouth rounded in shock, and he spilled popcorn across the floor. "What the...are you joking? Mr. Prynne's in hot water?" He laughed. "Oh, this is sweet. What has he done, I wonder?"

I waved a hand to silence him. "We're about to find out."

"Here is the first of several shocking security cam files and document files we received," Mr. Reid said. "All have been verified as authentic, and bearing the official signature code of Lovejoy-Prynne. Whoever sent these has access to highly confidential levels of the company. We can only guess who it is, but this pales in importance when you see the magnitude of Mr. Prynne's duplicity."

The image of a finely furnished office flickered into view. An oval desk ruled the scene, at which sat the arrogant and unmistakable Miles Prynne. He folded his hands, slender in his tailored coat, his sleek-combed hair a tawdry platinum against the dark angles of the room. Two men entered a side door, and sat before the desk. Their swaggering posture and huge pointed mustaches were of Pruessian style.

"Tell us, Hir Prynne, how much can you give to us and yet maintain the discretion we require?" one of the men asked, his accent clearly Pruessian.

"Forty -eight thousand bars of titanium, a third above the legal allowed." Mr. Prynne leaned over the desk, his handsome features sharp as blades. "However, it will cost you in full to seal the order. In my name alone. Mr. Lovejoy mustn't know of our little arrangement."

The Pruessian clucked his tongue. "Have no concern as to payment, Hir Prynne. Or to the privacy extended. Our great leader appreciates your generosity and consideration. Let us discuss the finer details. Hir Kaezer does not like to wait..."

A shudder of disbelief coursed through me. Though somehow I'd expected the nature of this scandal. the crash of its reality rattled every nerve.

Gerald sprang to his feet. "No way...is this really happening? My father is going to faint."

"See? I told you. The Prynnes are about to be tarred and feathered." Reuben laughed. "Whoever sent that package has them by the balls."

More alarming disclosures followed. Copies of documents showing illegal transactions with the Pruessian Empire. Statements of expenses allotted to neutral banks on Mars, a sure sign of laundering. All in the name of Miles Prynne, now the biggest swindler and surely soon to be the most hated man among the free nations and colonies. Should I congratulate Tamsin for her strike, or bow in awe of its devastating consequences. One thing was certain. When my beloved wanted revenge, she dealt the most wicked of ploys.

The following week delivered the expected damages. Miles Prynne was arrested for illegal trade with the Pruessian Empire, and jailed pending his trial. Even Raleigh Lovejoy publicly denounced him, and professed his own innocence. At Chamberlayne, Vance was the talk of moment, but not in the way he might have wished for. Boys harassed him, girls glared and turned up their noses. Aside from one or two of his numbskull friends, everyone shunned him. He walked from class to class with his collar turned up, hands in pockets, blue eyes locked to the ground. I didn't pity him in the slightest. He was much like his father, and his entire clan deserved it.

Whatever backlash Tamsim might be facing, if indeed her uncle had connected her to the scheme, she was silent about it. It took all of my effort not to message her about it, as she'd asked me not to contact her at all for several weeks. It was at least certain Raleigh Lovejoy would investigate her inboxes and channels for any evidence, and she wanted to keep things clear until all was settled.

The end of the term approached. My first year at Chamberlayne half over, and it seemed I'd been here for much longer. I was altered, no longer the sheltered and uncertain colonial I'd arrived as. To say I was older and wiser was obvious. I was also more cynical, and more forthright in pursuing my desires. Much of my defiant attitude was due to my dearest, the one person I'd kill or die for. I wanted so much to see her one last time, before we left on the extended Yule interim.

Alas, amid the cramming and sweating over finals, and the mad aftermath of the Prynne scandal, Tamsin and I weren't able to meet. When the last day of school arrived, I lingered as close as I could to the table where she and her friends gathered in the dining hall. We met eyes a few times, exchanging our secret gestures. It was the nearest to a conversation we could get until it was safe again.

That evening, after I'd finished packing my belongings, Father's stylish ringtone sounded on my wristcom. I sat on my bed to answer. His face appeared an inch above my cuff in shimmering blue and silver miniature, genteel features brightening in a grin.

"Hello, Father," I said, straightening my posture. "I'm sorry I haven't called you this week. My schedule has been horrendous."

He chuckled. "Think nothing of it. I've been in a flurry of appointments and meetings myself. But I'm very excited to have you home for the holiday, son. It seems we've been apart for a decade or more, with all the wild events of late."

"It certainly does." I cleared my throat. "The Prynne scandal has shaken up the entire industry, hasn't it?"

"Oh, it's done more in a week for our company's shareholders than we've seen in years." He cocked an eyebrow. "I'm not surprised at all. The bastard should have been investigated years ago. We'll discuss everything later, both good and bad. I have a splendid Yule party planned, with all of our friends and associates invited. We'll be staying at Highveld for the next few weeks, if you don't mind."

"No. I'm sure it'll be wonderful." I smiled, though part of me regretted not being able to go home to Belenus. I was weary of the homeworld in many ways, and missed the familiar haven I'd grown up in. 

"Your mother and Castor will be working with the mission until Yule Eve, next week. They'll be home in time for the party. Until then, I figured you and I might enjoy a little hunting excursion on the side. The weather is lovely in Sahajia this time of year. Would you like to join me?"

New excitement stirred my heart. It had been almost a year since my last hunt. "I'd love to."

"It's settled, then." Father squinted as he checked his wristcom. "Dear me, it's Mr. Shahiro. I hate to cut this short, but I've been waiting all day for his call. Do be ready for me to pick you up by eight standard tomorrow morning, and make sure Gerald is, too. Our shuttle is on a tight schedule with the approaching blizzard there in Michigattan."

I nodded. "Of course, Father."

"Very good. I love you, son."

I disconnected with a sigh. A hunt would be a nice way to reconnect with my roots, and with Father. I missed him, though I also dreaded what he might say regarding the broken items at Blakely. He'd seemed in a good mood, so maybe he'd already forgiven me for it. This was sure to be a homecoming wrought with both excitement and uncertainty.