by Rachel Ford
She snorted. “Does that mean you’ve finally accepted that he is my husband?”
“We don’t have a choice, do we? Not now.”
“If I keep my appointment,” she reminded them, a bit sardonically, “then you can maintain your hopes that we’ll separate someday.”
“Nik,” her mother scolded. “This isn’t a matter for levity.”
“Perhaps not. And I do appreciate your call. Really, I do. But it’s not as simple as you think, mer. It’s not about reconciliation.”
“You won’t need for money again, Nik,” Luk said.
She shook her head. “It’s not just money, der. Grel…Grel doesn’t want to raise a child in this world. He’s told me so before, so many times. It’s why I was using contraceptives.”
“But what about you?” Elsa wondered. “What do you want to do?”
She paused at the query. It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her lungs. She’d avoided answering this question, even in her own mind. “Me?”
“Yes, Nik. If you don’t want this child with Grel, well, we’ll never speak of it again.” Her mother leaned closer to the camera, and her face grew on Nikia’s display. “But you speak of what Grel wants, of what Grel has said, of what you can afford…I have not heard what you want.”
She blinked, and to her surprise found that tears had started to form in her eyes. “I want to keep it,” she said, and her voice was practically a whisper.
“Oh Nik,” Elsa said, her own voice cracking.
“Then you will keep it,” Luk declared resolutely.
“I can’t,” she protested. “It’s not fair to Grel.”
“I’ll talk to him,” her father continued. “I’ll get him a job, something respectable, working for me.”
“For you?” Nikia was truly surprised by this.
“Yes. You can’t be expected to be the sole breadwinner, Nik. Not when you’re pregnant. Not when you’re going to be a mother. And if it is, as you say, just a matter of his ties, well, this will resolve it. He’s not too proud to work for his father-in-law, is he?”
“No,” she said. “Of course not. But father?”
“Yes?”
“You know he will still be a reformer? He will still be all the things you have despised so long.”
Luk’s jaw clenched, and when he spoke there was resignation in his tone. “I know, Nik. But you’re my baby. And I won’t see you forced to make a choice that makes you miserable, because he doesn’t have a job.”
Nikia felt her eyes well. “You mean it, der? You won’t change your mind?”
“Of course not. He’ll have to tone it down, of course. I can’t have him preaching guilds or revolution in my factories. But I’ll make sure he’s well-employed.”
This, though, gave Nikia pause. “I won’t ask him to sell out his beliefs, father.”
Luk frowned at her through the screen. “Sell out? I didn’t say he couldn’t still hold his radical views, Nik. I just said I can’t have people knowing that I’ve employed a revolutionary. He’ll need to tone it down a bit.”
“What does that mean, father, ‘tone it down a bit’?”
“We can figure the details out later, Nik,” Elsa said. “The important thing is, we come to an understanding.”
“That’s not a detail, mother. You can’t expect me to ask my husband to pass his thoughts through your filter.”
“Of course not, my love. That’s not what we mean.”
“Grel’s beliefs are a part of who he is. His ideas about reform, his dreams of what Central can be, what the Tribari can be: I can’t ask him to sacrifice them.”
“Of course not,” her mother repeated.
But Luk was in a less conciliatory mood. “And what about what you sacrifice, Nik? Or does that not count for anything? You sacrifice and sacrifice. You give up your home, your dreams, your days – and now your child too? For what? For a man who doesn’t work, who writes speeches and goes to rallies and keeps his head always in the clouds. A man who expects you to change your life, your dreams, for him, and never gives up a damned thing for you?”
Chapter Six
Nikia sat weeping for a few minutes in Supervisor Gri’s office. Her call had ended in angry words from both sides, as it always did when she talked with her father. They might have been estranged, but there was one thing her father had given her that he could not take away: and that was her stubbornness. When provoked, she was easily as recalcitrant as Luk Aldir on his worst of days. And her father’s constant criticism of Grel provoked her like little else could.
Still, she wept that they’d parted in anger. She rarely spoke to them these days. They would check in now and again. Usually, she or Elsa would initiate the calls. They’d speak briefly on the holy days, wishing one another a good season. Her mother would remember her day of birth, and sometimes her father would deign to speak a few words too.
They were painful calls, though, even when both sides remained cordial. They were reminders that she had disappointed them, and that they could not forgive her choice of Grel. They were reminders of all the things that had been and would never be again. In a sense, she preferred her brother Diven’s complete silence to these check-ins.
But not really. As painful as they were, she still wanted to hear from them. She loved her parents, even if she had disappointed them.
Now, she sat weeping with anger at herself for being a fool. She’d been so happy to entertain the idea of reconciliation, but she knew – she knew! – it was a fool’s dream. She’d always known that. Luk would never budge. Luk would never let Grel be who Grel was meant to be. His acceptance would only, ever come with so many strings it would bind and break her husband.
She couldn’t ask that of Grel. He was a man of vision, of purpose. She believed in his vision and purpose, and she believed in him. With a little time, a little luck, he could do the things he’d set his mind to. He could bring the reforms he wanted.
She couldn’t ask him to give that up, not for her, not for the future they used to talk about, with a family of their own. Maybe, someday, that dream could be a reality. But not now. She knew that.
And she wept for that future that might never be, the children they would not have. She wept for Grel, and all that he’d endured these last months. She wept for the harsh words she’d said, and that had been said to her. She wept with sheer exhaustion.
It was, she supposed, pregnancy hormones. Dr. Kel had warned that they might make her emotional. Gods, but was he right.
She dried her eyes, and tried to force a natural expression onto her features. Gri would be waiting, she knew, to glean what he could of the conversation. It wasn’t often a Grand Contributor phoned one of his employees. She breathed in and out, and when her breathing was steady, left the office.
Her supervisor was waiting as anticipated. He studied her for a moment with consternation. “Nik, is everything alright?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Just…family news.”
“Oh. It was – I hope all is well with your family, Nik.”
She smiled, and was mortified to find that the action provoked a second impulse to weep. “Thank you, Supervisor,” she said, and nearly ran to her seat before the tears came again.
With considerable effort, she was able to force them back. She stared unseeing at her station for a space. Then, slowly but surely, her mind cleared, and she forced herself back to the tasks at hand. She was being ridiculous. Of course, she was being ridiculous. She had a plan, a solid plan; she would follow it. And she would forget the morning’s conversation, and anything else.
It was midafternoon when Dalen Gri stepped into the office again. The occupants of the room glanced up at the same time, of one volition. Nikia tried not to cringe. The last thing she wanted was for the supervisor to take note of her now, reading into the call a familial bond that was in reality all but severed.
It might bring perks in the short-term, but in the long – as soon as Gri realized his mistake – it w
ould bring nothing but trouble.
To her dismay, he set his steps toward her desk, saying, “Nik.”
“Supervisor?”
“I just wanted to let you know, you can punch out.”
“What?”
“You’ve got a visitor.”
“A visitor? But what about my shift?”
Gri laughed. “Gods, Nik, you’re a workaholic. You’ve put in more than enough hours this week. I’ll have someone else cover for you. Go on, get out of here before you take root to that seat.” He laughed again, in the same forced fashion.
Nikia thanked him, but her heart sank. It was exactly as she feared: for the moment, he was being obliging because of her relationship to the Aldirs. But once he grasped that they were on the outs – and how could that remain a secret long, when they had almost nothing to do with her? – well, then he’d feel a fool. Then he’d want to make up all those little favors. So would everyone whose workload would have increased in the meantime. Oh hell.
Still, there would be no arguing with him. Gri had probably spent the entire morning since her call calculating every unreasonable demand he’d made since her employment began, and what would be required of him to undo the damage.
She gritted her teeth, gathered her coat, and headed out. She wasn’t sure who her visitor was. She knew it wouldn’t be Grel. He knew better than to make an appearance at her place of employment. But she couldn’t imagine who else it might be, either.
She wasn’t prepared for the sight of her father in the lobby, sitting stiffly while the receptionist tried to make him comfortable. “Are you sure there’s nothing we can get you while you wait, Grand Contributor?”
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Father,” she said.
He started at the sound of her voice, and his eyes softened. “Nik.” He was on his feet in an instant, and wrapped her in a hug. She returned it stiffly, as much from surprise as anything else. Then, he stood back to survey her. “We need to talk.”
“You know what I’m going to say.”
“Not here.” He smiled hesitantly. “Come on, Nik. Walk with me. Please.”
She considered, then nodded. “Alright.”
They must have made an odd pair, she thought. He was wearing a jacket inlaid with silver and gold and bearing the jeweled crimson and emerald badge of a Grand Contributor, that sign for all the world to see at a glance that he, Luk Aldir, was a foremost citizen of the Tribari empire, a man whose economic and industrial pull had contributed to the well-being of that empire and her people. And she? Well, she was dressed in the dour grays of a middle-class office worker. She was clean, trim, and presentable, but she didn’t shimmer in the red hues of the afternoon star. Her uniform wasn’t intended to catch the eye or brighten the spirit the way the sight of a Grand Contributor was meant to do.
They walked through the city streets for a few minutes in silence, passing out of the shadow of Gulan Construction’s towering commercial offices. It was lost to a maze of glittering buildings and bright facades when Luk finally spoke. “Nik, I’m sorry about what I said earlier.”
If he’d meant to surprise her, to disarm her with such an uncharacteristic approach, it certainly worked. “Me too.”
He wrapped an arm around her now. “My girl.”
She swallowed the lump that popped, unbidden, to her throat. “Der.”
Again, a moment of silence settled between them. Luk broke it a second time. “Your mother and I were talking, Nik. About things – about you, and Grel.”
She braced herself. Here it comes.
“The way things are, between us; it’s not how they should be. We’re family. You chose to marry Idan. And…well, that makes him family too.”
Nikia stopped in her tracks. “Der, what are you saying?” She didn’t want to misinterpret his words, and she didn’t dare to hope.
He put his hands on her shoulders. “What I said about the job earlier? I meant it. I know I said things I shouldn’t have. I know you believe in what he’s doing.
“But you have to understand where I’m coming from, too. If Grel’s out there marching on the capitol and calling the Contributors parasites, you know what that’ll mean for me, for our family, for our businesses.”
She sighed. “Der, I’m not asking for anything. I never asked for anything.”
“I know, baby girl.” There was no hostility in Luk’s voice now. He was pleading instead. She wasn’t sure what to think of that. She’d never seen her father plead. “And I know you don’t want conditions. I’m just asking you to try to understand, from my perspective.
“I don’t want to – what was it you said? Filter him. I don’t. I’m not asking that he leaves his groups or scales back his work with them. Just…maybe take a less public role.” She was about to protest, but he spoke quickly, “The work’s what matters, right? He can still help, Nik. He can still drive it. Just let someone else be the figurehead.”
She considered his words. “He’s worked so hard, der. I can’t ask him to go into hiding now.”
“Not hiding. That’s not what I’m asking for, Nikia. He says the cause is greater than any one man, right? I’m just asking that he step out of the limelight. Keep fighting, keep organizing, keep doing the work that his movement needs. But, for your sake and the baby’s, for our family’s sake, keep a lower profile as he does it.”
“I don’t know, father,” she said. “It means so much to him.”
His face creased with pain. “And what about you, Nik? How much do you mean to him?”
“Don’t talk like that, der,” she said. “It’s not fair to make it a question of me, or the cause.”
“It doesn’t have to be. But you give and give, my girl. You’ve done nothing but give since you met him. Can’t he give a little too? Isn’t that only fair?”
She stood in silent contemplation for a moment. She found herself battling the urge to cry anew, and she cursed her hormones for making such a weeping imbecile of her. Her father must have seen the battle of emotions raging across her face, though, for he drew her to him in another hug.
“Don’t cry, Nik. Please don’t cry.”
This, perversely, only encouraged the downpour, and she did weep. She wept long and hard for the second time that day, but this time she did not cry alone. Her father held her until the tears dried, and when she stepped out of his embrace she saw that his eyes were red and swollen too. “I’ll ask him, father.”
“Good.”
“But father, you do not know how many times he has decried raising children now. And if he still doesn’t want to, I won’t do it.”
He nodded solemnly. “Just promise that you will talk to him.”
“I will. But I don’t think it will change his mind.”
“A man says many things, Nik, in the light of clear reason or driven by noble sentiment. But it’s very different when it’s his own wife, the promise of his own family.” He smiled. “Believe me on that. When I found out your mom was pregnant with you, my entire world shifted.”
She felt her eyes welling again. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “It’s these damned hormones. The doctor said I might have mood swings.”
“And exhaustion, I should think,” he said. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week, Nik.”
“It’s been long hours at work.”
“I’ll talk to Gulan about that.”
“Please don’t.”
He glanced askew at her, but then nodded. “Alright. Can I at least mention in passing that I’ve talked to you? So they’ll back off?”
She hesitated. She didn’t want favors. She really didn’t. But this pace was going to kill her, too. “Alright,” she said.
“Good.” He smiled. “Come on, Nik. Let me get you something to eat. You’re eating for two now, remember.”
She smiled too, saying again, “Okay.” But then, she frowned. “But Father?”
“Yes?”
“I will talk to Grel, as I promised. But…but this we
ek is his protest at the markets, and his speech at the park. He’s been working on it for weeks, and everyone’s counting on him. I can’t ask him to back out of those.”
Luk nodded slowly. It wasn’t a happy nod, but it was resigned. “I understand.”
She wrapped an arm around him. “Thank you, father.”
He squeezed her back. “Of course. Now come on, let’s get that food.”
Chapter Seven
“Incoming message from the planet,” Ensign Vor called.
Captain Elgin nodded. Governor Nees was fifteen minutes past his deadline, but if a last show of defiance was what it took to end this damned mission, well, he’d take it. Something about sitting in space to turn away supplies from a civilian colony didn’t quite sit right with him, orders or no orders. The sooner he was on his way back to Central, the better. “Onscreen.”
Nees’ face appeared on his view, and he said, “Supernova here. What can I do for you, Governor?”
“I want to meet, Captain. Face to face.”
“We will,” he said. “When I take you into custody.”
She smiled. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Then we’ve nothing left to discuss. Vor, cut-”
“What about sixty-three trillion gallons of crude, Captain Elgin?”
Something in the calm, easy way she posed the question made him hesitate. “What?”
“You heard me. What about sixty-three trillion gallons of crude? Is that worth your time?”
“I’m not sure I follow.” He was afraid – very much afraid – he did. Nees had access to a valuable Tribari resource, and she knew it. Forty-five months ago, Trapper’s Colony had been a sphere of brown rock, dotted here and there in settlements. Central had barely given it a second thought. No one had. Why would they? It was just a handful of farmers scratching out a hardscrabble existence in dead space.
That had been before the quakes. A series of tectonic plate shifts had ripped great tears in the planet’s surface. And from some of those lacerations oozed the thick black goo that powered Tribari industry and transport, that fueled its economy and military: oil.
