by Taki Drake
The Council had thought the two young men would come crawling back. Instead, the two young men had focused on making the most of their opportunity. They had never looked back.
Gwilliam and Zorand had focused on their core strengths. Since they had been trained in battle and fighting, their damaged shuttle had formed the shaky basis for a mercenary career. Determined to take hold of their own destiny, they planned their strategies and moved forward intelligently.
Deep down, Gwilliam had known he would return to the Rock. Once he had made the decision to go back, the mercenary commander no longer twisted and turned in his own mind trying to avoid the journey. This trip was necessary to achieve his goals. No longer an inexperienced young man, Gwilliam had a clear vision of what he was willing to pay and the risk of his actions.
Neither he nor Zorand had any thought of retribution. Seer’s Rock had taken the two of them in when they were desperate and young. It was true that some of the inhabitants had exploited him, but in that culture, everyone was used. It was part of the fabric of their lives, and he couldn’t expect anything else from them.
Gwilliam didn’t care enough about those people or the experiences that he had on the asteroid to wish for revenge. Even if he had, it was impractical when the object of your retribution was populated by Seers that could see the past and a substantial number of Oracles who were able to see any hostile act you might take in the future.
I’m hoping to avoid violence since the traces of that will bleed down from the future. Hopefully, a quiet arrival, a rapid and unobtrusive in and out will be missed.
Zorand had mentioned once that the colony had little value beyond the clairvoyants of all types who made their home there. Attacking the asteroid risked killing the reason to take control, so no Empire or planetary government that knew its location would risk the loss of that type of rare talent. Going even further, the few times that Seer’s Rock had been in danger, even enemies would band together to help protect the unique pool of talent.
Still, the people in charge had wanted Gwilliam with his Talent to make the defenses of the planetoid more certain. So, the council had groomed him, controlled him, and manipulated his loyalty and emotions. All except Ariella.
The old Seer had told him of his options, talking to him about the bigger universe out there. She encouraged him to dream of making his way, telling both Zorand and him that even if it would be a path covered in blood and corpses from friend and foe alike, it may be the most favorable path for them.
Ariella was the best thing that happened to me on Seer’s Rock. Without her, I don’t know where Zorand and I would be today.
The woman had told him how he could affect more than the fates of some ‘musty old seers and dreaming oracles.’ For better or worse, he could change people’s lives. All of it depended on his choices.
Gwilliam’s reverie was interrupted by a gentle hand on his shoulder. Turning, he met Zorand’s concerned eyes and said, “Sometimes I wonder if the Seer’s Council was right. If I had stayed, would I have prevented the same number of deaths without the killing?”
Zorand’s visage took on a contemptuous cast, before saying, “Lad, the Oracles admit the future is not set in stone. Any Talent can wipe what they see away like a rising tide washes writing off the sand on a beach. They can only say what possibilities are most likely. Not one of ‘em predicted you would accept exile with me. So, who can say?”
Gwilliam grinned at Zorand and heard a tinkling giggle from Finada. The expression on the mercenary commander’s face felt strange, and he realized that it had been a while since he smiled. Only in times like this, cocooned among his closest intimates, could he let his mask of command evaporate.
Zorand smiled in response and continued, “I taught you the code of my family. A family of soldiers back through the centuries. The first rule you have followed above all others. ‘A soldier’s job is to protect as many as he can.’ There have been times when you have been so ruthless in an attack I have been forced to wonder. That attack on Adrathaburg where you ordered armored soldiers to kill any who resisted, for example.”
Gwilliam winced at the reminder. That had been during a particularly nasty civil war when even the children had fought in battle. He was not proud of that moment or his decisions that led to it, but he accepted his responsibility.
A gesture from Zorand drew his eye, and his big friend continued, “When we found the local commander had ordered the population infected with biologics from the local research facility, my attitude changed. You would have had no choice but to quarantine the population at great risk to your men and the planet. All it would have taken was one of the fanatics to escape. That would have caused a disaster across the entire planet.”
“Yes, and it had the advantage of shocking the warring parties enough that they came in good faith to the negotiating table.”
“Overall, it probably was the fastest way to resolve the conflict. The bloodied bill was probably much less than it would’ve been, if the engagement would not have been handled so aggressively.”
Gwilliam nodded but still admitted to himself that it not been one of his better moments. Some of the people in the town had to have been neutrals, just wanting to live their lives.
How could anyone tell, though? Even if you knew at the beginning, what if their friends and neighbors were fanatics you killed? Would the survivors pick up the same vile torch?
Finada spoke up, interrupting Gwilliam’s thoughts, “Without you, that virus would have gotten loose. I was there. I saw how the townspeople fought. With hunting weapons, farm tools, and a willingness to die against assault armor. You took more casualties killing the townsfolk so that the region could be cleansed. You could have chosen an orbital strike. That may have spread the disease with a far higher cost in lives. In part, because you hoped some were not fanatics and could be treated, even cured.”
Gwilliam nodded. She was right, even if his orders meant some people were shot. Despite the brutality of the assault, not a babe, toddler, or young child had been killed. The disease had killed them all before his forces had tightened their encirclement and moved in.
The memories of those tiny corpses haunted him some nights. In the depths of those dark times, Gwilliam knew he was not alone. He knew the troops that had been in that engagement had their bad dreams of that time also. If he were a praying man, he would petition that no one had to carry that burden the images of tiny fingers stilled forever and contorted bodies.
The mercenary commander shook himself loose from the grip of horrific memory. Now was not the time to get lost in old experiences. He needed to be in the moment, on top of his game. Too much depended on the success of his mission.
Gwilliam needed to speak to Ariella. He hoped that she still had her home in the same place. Obviously, the mercenary commander did not want to spend the time to search her out. The longer he and Zorand were on the Rock, the more likely problems would occur. If possible, he wanted to be in and out before the rulers of the settlement even knew he was there. Before anyone who felt he had wronged the colony found him.
Chapter 20 – Not a Thing to Wear
Force X Bar, Arkken Port
“Oh, I am exhausted! My feet hurt, and I am so tired I can’t even see straight,” said Ruth.
Pawlik laughed, the relaxed amusement that Ruth treasured filling the room.
It’d taken them almost a week to recover after the explosion and assassination attempt. Escorted back by Ruth’s security personnel and Hunter, the Mage and Pawlik had quickly said their farewells and gotten into the shuttle within an hour of the decision to go.
Among Cal, Mary, the seneschal, and others, Ruth felt comfortable in running away. She knew that something had to be done to recharge her energy. The woman was conscious of feeling frail and knew that a change of scenery would do a lot to return her to her usual level of strength and focus.
For the first few days, all she had done was sleep, drink, and eat. Every time she woke up, Pawl
ik was there. Her Anchor was sometimes cuddled up to her in the massive, comfortable bed, other times she would wake to see him sitting at the desk against the wall.
Occasionally, he would be working on his computer, but most the time he was dealing with large piles of correspondence and paperwork that Ruth now knew was an inevitable part of managing a vast estate and multiple properties.
The change in scenery and location offered Pawlik a much-needed break. Removed from the intensity of managing the changes in his life while still fulfilling his duties as a noble, he and Ruth had some time just to get used to each other.
Once her bone-deep exhaustion eased, the Mage got more social. For each of the last few evenings, they had wandered down to the barroom and visited with the bartender, Luka. Ruth had introduced Pawlik to Alan Culhane, the retired veteran Marine commander that was staying in the room across the hall from them. The two men were getting along well, exchanging stories about their time at the Alliance Military Academy and sharing experiences aboard later vessels.
The four of them, Mage and Anchor, bartender and combat veteran, had many conversations that ranged over a wide variety of subjects. Ruth had actively solicited the opinions and input of the retired Major’s AI gun. She knew that her attitude and actions startled the three men, but she didn’t really care. She liked Arturis and appreciated his dry wit.
As the week continued, Ruth and Pawlik were both inundated with requests for decisions on how the damaged area of the Castle should be rebuilt. At first, Ruth was worried that Pawlik would be angry with her for what she had done but realized quickly that he cared more about her comfort than he did about anything else.
Although there were lots of decisions that they needed to make, without ever discussing it, both the Mage and Anchor kept their evenings free. Pawlik even restricted his meetings with friends at the nobles’ private clubs to the afternoon, so that he and Ruth could be together. The less stressful demands of conversation and unscheduled meals did more for Ruth’s healing than anything else she could have done.
Of course, longer periods of privacy were also beneficial. Ruth and Pawlik were free to sleep late or go to bed early, and they both reveled in that rare luxury. The Anchor was walking around with a slight grin on his face, and the Mage knew that its twin was on hers.
It felt wonderful.
Ruth was enjoying it so much that she didn’t want anything to change. Briefly, she wondered if it would be viable if they never move back to the Castle. She knew, unfortunately, that that really wasn’t a good option, but the fantasy made her smile.
She had finished an interesting conversation with the bartender and decided to return to their rooms only to find Pawlik holding a folded note in both hands with a panicked look on his face. Convinced that something horrible had happened, Ruth immediately burst into speech, asking, “My dear, what is wrong? Did someone die?”
He looked at her with an expression of panic, and she immediately thought of a whole new variety of horrific possibilities. Beginning to shake, the Mage continued to wait, until finally, Pawlik said, “Worse. Look at this!”
Gingerly, Ruth took the note from his hand, wondering what had him in such a distraught mood. Expecting the worst, she looked down at the letter and burst into laughter. It was a dinner invitation.
“What is the matter? It’s just an invitation to dinner. What could be so bad about that?”
Pawlik closed his eyes in pain, muttering, “All dinners of this type are formal dress. We haven’t even gotten you a regular wardrobe, let alone something that will support your dignity at this type of dinner.”
“At least Harril explained a lot of the structure and ceremony to me already. I think I can wing it from there.”
“It is going to be far worse than that. It’s hosted here in town, and the invitation is from two old friends of my parents. It’s as friendly a situation as it could be expected, but there will be eight couples there, and I don’t know who the other six will be.”
“In other words, you are worried that I’m going to step wrong in a sensitive political environment, embarrass you, let down your heritage, and come off like an uncultured idiot. Right?”
Realizing that he had mortally offended his mate, Pawlik hurried to disabuse her of her misconception, saying, “No, absolutely not! I am not worried about you stepping wrong, I don’t want you to feel intimidated by the situation or insulted by whatever nasty comments will be made.”
Looking deeply into his eyes, Ruth saw that Pawlik really was worried about her. He had concerns that were probably legitimate about how awkward the dinner would be and cared about her enough to want her to feel pleasure at the event rather than any negative emotion.
The burgeoning fire in the Mage’s eyes dimmed, and tension left her body. Placing a gentle hand on her mate's forearm, the Mage said, “We have four days. I guess I better get busy with my shopping.”
<< <> >>
Ruth had sent Pawlik down to the taproom and promised to join him quickly. Making sure that she was still not upset with him, the nobleman reluctantly left her and went to find their schedule dinner companions. As soon as her Anchor left the room, Ruth commed Margot and Jenna.
Jenna answered, “Hi, Ruth. Is everything all right with you?”
“Yes and sort of no. Pawlik is freaking out because we just got a dinner invitation to something called a semi-formal dinner. He seems all wound up about it, and since I understand that I have to have a fancy dress for it, I thought I would call in the troops. Which in this case, is you two and a few other friends.”
“Oh, dear. This is not going to be easy,” replied Jenna.
“Apparently, I do not understand some of the complexities of this. Can you explain to me why this is a bigger issue than I thought?”
“I think this is better done in person, and I would like to bring reinforcements with me.”
“Okay. I had planned on seeing if both you and Margot could come, and hoped that you would bring Mary. If there are others that you think would be useful, invite them also.”
“Trust me on this, Ruth. We need to get right on this, immediately if not sooner. Otherwise, a bunch of nasty social butterflies will be able to say crappy things about Borach in their social power games.”
Ruth’s eyes grew cold, and her expression became determined. She looked at the comm screen, and she saw Jenna’s face pale. The Mage said, “That will not happen!”
The former Marine asked, “How many days do we have to prepare?”
“Four days until the party.”
“Crap!”
Chapter 21 – Scouting Territory
Shopping, Arkken Port
Early in the morning, Ruth kicked Pawlik out of their rooms and gathered her council of war. Jenna, Margot, and Mary descended on her with drawings, samples, and a lot of information. Before joining her, they had explained the situation to Harril, the steward. He had sent his suggestions to his Lady, as well as recommendations on a suitable dressmaker.
Ruth had her troops gathered, and a battle strategy was defined. They would run their campaign in several stages. Top of the list was to find a dressmaker. While Margot and Mary would check out the couture dress shops, Jenna would be investigating the ones the steward had recommended.
The women would stay in contact with each other using the new, expensive comm-units that Ruth had purchased when she had gotten the updated equipment for the Marines. Equipped with secure communications and personal trackers, they can be used to call for emergency help as well as consultation with the staff back at the Castle.
Where possible, samples would be obtained for evaluation. Anything unusual could be purchased outright. Harril had made sure that all of the women had enough funds to buy incidentals easily and a card-like chip that authorized charges on the Borach operational account.
Ruth noticed with amusement that there was no card for her to use. She had already been told in no uncertain terms that no noblewoman on Arkken ever carried such an item
. Instead, it was a matter of status that they were always attended by someone who would take care of the mundane functions of purchasing.
Privately, the Mage thought that it took much of the fun out of shopping, but rather than cause more disruption to Arkken’s culture at this early point she agreed to let her security guards take care of things for her.
The women scattered, each of them hurrying off with a long list of needs and objectives. For this initial foray, all four of them would go separate ways to scout out the land, so to speak. After two hours, they planned to meet back in Ruth and Pawlik’s chambers with their findings.
Ruth was conscious of a certain amount of trepidation as she watched as everyone scattered. I wonder why I feel as if we were going into battle. There is that uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I can feel my heart racing. Something is telling me this is not going to be easy.
The Mage headed out on her errands. These tasks were ones she felt needed a personal touch, those no one else could do for her. The steward’s coaching on the traditions and culture of the planet had included an explanation of what was considered to be appropriate guest behavior. The actions of host and guest were overall determined by the event type.
The dinner invitation that she and her Anchor had accepted was for an intimate event, which put specific requirements on the attendees. Ones that Ruth would need to observe if she wanted to fit in with Pawlik’s circle of acquaintances and friends.
Just as the host or hostess was expected to be gracious and focused on their guests' comfort, the reciprocating behavior was to bring a small gift to acknowledge the pleasure of the invitation.
She and Pawlik were expected to bring a small token of their appreciation. When the Mage first heard about the rules governing the gifting, she had thought that it sounded like somebody was keeping score of points. She would get more points for something exquisite, something that was wrapped well, something unusual.
