The Problem with Bad Boys

"Enjoy your dinner?" Zinam asked her, flashing Sagmah a brilliant smile.

Sagmah lowered her eyes to the last bit of her jelly dessert, the last course of an amazing eight-course meal. "Delicious, as usual," she admitted with a sheepish smile. She wasn't sure how Zinam managed it, but he always had a friend or an acquaintance from an old workplace, or some partner of a cousin who could get him a booking at one of the nicest dining-clubs in town, and every time they met up, she'd get the chance to sample carefully-prepared delicacies she'd never had the occasion to try before. Whatever else could be said about Zinam, she had eaten so well since he had first approached her about solving Kāṣiru's spiralling labor shortage problem.

Even now, he emptied the last bit of prime wine right into her glass.

"Finish it, finish it," he urged. "We're here to celebrate your work! Your genius!" He brought up the positive buzz the decap-and-trade scheme was getting in the Herald. "Just think about all those other logisticians, tweaking policies around the edges, while you're here making a real difference across all of Kāṣiru every day."

Zinam was looking at her from across the table, eyes bright and alert, and Sagmah felt her cheeks heat. Zinam was naturally blessed with good looks -- but those good looks had not been tempered by a life of combat. No scars except thread-thin ones, no calloused hands, no chipped teeth, repaired or not. His nose was crooked in a way that suggested it had been broken at least once, but Sagmah also knew that nose surgeries were quite common among the former-aristo class. He was skilled in axe and chainspear, and an expert marksman, a regular in the training halls; but as far as Sagmah knew, he had never actually tested those skills in battle or anything approaching it. Could one trust someone so utterly unmarked by battle?

Unexpectedly, Zinam laid his hands on her own. "In fact, how about we celebrate some more at yours?"

Sagmah could feel her heart drumming in her chest. Bad idea -- terrible idea. Sagmah found herself stammering, "I-I'm not that kind of girl." Sleep with someone before you had spilt blood together? In the absence of the sexual hunger that followed the intoxicating high of victory? Sagmah was far from a pious, straight-down-the-line traditionalist, but still. She had some standards.

That said, he certainly had a face and physique that whoever wrote the M'arīísū novels could only imagine. She had to admit... she was a little tempted. Could anyone blame her? It wasn't just Zinam's stunningly good looks either -- it was his faith in her, that her ideas were worth exploring, that the deftness of her policy design more than made up for her relative inexperience, especially at a project as big in scale as this. It was all the late nights Zinam had spent hashing out the details with her -- she liked the give and take with him, and now that decap-and-trade was fully rolled out, she kind of missed them, honestly.

"Well..." Sagmah said, her mouth twisting in a shy smile, "maybe one drink."

In the end, Sagmah didn't come to regret her decision. However lacking Zinam might have been in battlefield experience, he certainly made up for in the bedroom. A truly skillful and attentive lover, every touch electrifying, their motions building to a heated and perfect rhythm.

Afterward, head swimming, Sagmah had to admit she had never been loved quite as exquisitely.

The next few months were an exhilarating blur -- wining, dining, astounded praise from all the fanciest econometricians, exhilarating escapades in the bedroom. It was such a whirlwind that Sagmah didn't see the fatal breakages until it was too late.

The unsanctioned-murder of Enḫezal had seemed like a blip at first, an expression of wild, helpless rage that was sure to pass. But then things kept not dying down. And then people started blaming decap-and-trade.

We should get in front of this, she sent Zinam a noosphere-missive with conscientious swiftness. Emphasize that the scheme *isn't* pacifist -- it's completely maintained MPM while increasing materiel production. But maybe we could announce some minor tweaks like putting a modest limit on the portion of quotas that are tradeable. After a few minutes, she hastily added, Just a temporary measure until the heat has died down, knowing that Zinam wouldn't like her suggestion.

It didn't matter anyway -- Zinam never replied to her missives. The next she heard any word from him, it was via quotes he had given to the Rage Report, denouncing the scheme as a vile pacifist plot that he had been misled into supporting.

Sagmah knew it was over then -- everything. The window to defend their scheme and quell the riots had closed, and with the scheme, her promising career too. And Zinam had cut ties with her in every way he was capable of doing.

Seeing the end, Sagmah let out a visceral roar of rage and flung her throwing axe at a target practice dummy in her room, the wood vibrating violently at the impact.