by Gun Brooke
“Yes, it has.” Andreia kissed her mother’s cheeks repeatedly, the customary Onotharian greeting between children and parents.
“Hurry. We’re waiting for you, dearest.” Le’Tinia pulled discreetly at Andreia’s arm.
Andreia bet they were. The GCDL, the Gantharian Community Data Line system, didn’t issue statements of conduct regarding their politics without their favorite spokesperson. Andreia had quickly progressed from being a mere decorative representative to helping the Onotharian citizens woo their Gantharian subjects; she had also emerged years ago as a forceful liaison between the Onotharian homeworld, six light-years away, and the Onotharian interim government on Gantharat. Born on this planet to Onotharian parents, Andreia was the perfect choice, according to her mother. To drive the point home, the data line constantly referred to her as an Onotharian daughter of Gantharat. A blessed mix that, combined with her strong convictions, had placed her in the eye of the storm.
“As you say, it’s been a while. How was Onos, Mother?”
“Ah, too crowded and too polluted. We saw a few good perfor-mances in the ValaVala Concert Foyer, but living among the musically gifted Gantharians tends to spoil your taste forever.” Le’Tinia placed an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Then I get the news that you’ve been rock climbing. Isn’t that a sport for the young and newly rich? Hardly anything a future president of Gantharat can afford to do, is it?”
“I have to stay in shape, Mother.” Andreia was used to her mother’s tirades, and nothing she could say would stop Le’Tinia. It saved time to simply nod and pretend to agree, rather than argue every little detail.
“Yes, of course you do. But there are other ways, henshes.”
The Onotharian term of endearment hung between them as they approached the largest of the six offices occupied by the top men and women in the Onotharian interim government. Andreia knew that her mother probably considered herself the most loving of parents, but her parents’ actions and demands had too often proved the opposite, so she couldn’t buy into the bright smiles they graced her with in public.
“Ms. M’Aldovar. The chairman wants you to sit on her right, ma’am. This way, please.” A young Onotharian woman guided Andreia past the high-ranking members of the interim Gantharian government, which included her father, who sat on one side of an oval table. At the far end, a woman in her late nineties rose to greet Andreia, sending everyone else around the table to their feet. “Ms. M’Aldovar.”
“Chairman M’Ocresta. It is an honor.” Andreia was still trying to grasp the fact that Villia M’Ocresta, one of the fifteen members of the House of Creators, had arrived on Gantharat without anyone telling her. Andreia refrained from sending her mother an ironic glance, knowing full well that her mother expected it and would triumph later. “I hope you had a pleasant and uneventful journey from our beloved homeworld.” The words nearly choked her, but, accustomed to effortlessly delivering untruths, Andreia smiled proudly as she gestured toward the others present. “I’m sure you’ve received a warm welcome. If I’m not mistaken, this is your first visit to this part of the Empire, isn’t it?”
The deceptively fragile-looking woman, her hair still black as the night and her complexion nearly flawless despite her age, nodded regally. “Indeed it is. Recent events have made it safe enough for me to travel to Gantharat. I received intelligence regarding your military’s and the Onotharian Empire Clandestine Service’s successful countermeasures toward the rebels. Very impressive, Ms. M’Aldovar. I commend you for your work.”
“Thank you.” Andreia used every ounce of her professionalism and her well-trained voice to sound forceful and self-confident. “We are proud of the dutiful men and women who risk their lives for their homeworld.”
“We are, most assuredly.”
Chairman M’Ocresta sat down and motioned for the others to follow suit. “I don’t have to tell you that even as we continue to make progress and enjoy our victories over these worthless scoundrels here on Gantharat, they continue to make political mischief for us elsewhere. As I am sure you are aware, negotiations with the Supreme Constellations have ceased because of the O’Dal woman and that child.”
“Yes, Chairman, I am monitoring the situation and know of its possible ramifications.”
“Good. This unpleasantness is about to lead us to war with the Supreme Constellations—something I find undesirable at this time. It annoys me that this planet and its insignificant inhabitants have embarrassed us so publicly. My patience for such things is running out. This occupation has cost us dearly. Now it has drawn the Constellations’ attention. I am well aware of the incident that killed your son, Valax,” she said, glancing at Andreia’s father, who looked uncomfortable and shifted nervously in his chair. Twenty years older than his wife, he was still a handsome man. Tall and skinny, with sharp features and thin lips, he resembled a predatory bird with his bent nose and golden eyes.
“Madam Chairman, it was a tragic incident that we could not have anticipated,” Valax said. “As for the Gantharians, they are a proud, resourceful people, and we knew when we conquered this world it would take time.”
“Proud? Resourceful? Noble words for such criminals. Cunning, deceitful, and destructive would be more appropriate. As for it taking time, I would think twenty-five years was more than sufficient. Finally, I must say, Valax, failing to anticipate a move on the SC’s part was rather poor for a strategic thinker such as you. Once Ambassador M’Ekar behaved so recklessly in his clumsy attempt to commandeer that boy who pretends to be Gantharian royalty, what did you think they would do? Nothing?” Chairman M’Ocresta huffed. “They never sit idly by—and the cost of this folly? Your son, our ability to negotiate, and public humiliation.” She paused and emphasized, “I tell you, time is running out.”
“What are your orders, Madam Chairman?”
“Now that you’ve finally incarcerated most of their senior resistance leaders, Valax, I want them broken immediately so we can end this foolishness. I want this planet to submit to our will, our ways, once and for all,” the chairman repeated, and let her almost-yellow eyes settle on each face around the table before continuing. “No more second chances. If Gantharat had not been rich in valuable natural resources and an abundant labor force, I would have recommended to the Emperor that we destroy every living being on it. If this situation does not resolve itself quickly, I may still make that recommendation.”
Andreia’s heart hammered. She could hardly believe her own ears. Is she serious? After we’ve practically raped and plundered this planet, using its people as our workforce, she wants to kill off the cheap labor? Andreia dug her blunt nails into the data-filer in her hands. This surprise meeting proved to be harder on her self-restraint than she’d anticipated. She could see the keen intellect and callous assessment in M’Ocresta’s eyes as she sat casually rolling the Garmawood pearls of her necklace between her fingers.
“I don’t believe that will be necessary, Madam Chairman,” Andreia said, keeping her voice cool and unaffected. “As you yourself have noted, we have captured a large majority of the traitors. The ones that remain at large are inconsequential. They are less resourceful, more like mindless children that we can mold to our will with the right types of propaganda and incentives.”
“I have noticed your recent successes, Andreia. They are the only bright points I’ve seen in recent times,” M’Ocresta stated. “So you think we can mend the rift between us and the Constellations?”
“I do. It was unfortunate that the SC spies obtained sensitive materials from the O’Dals’ farm, but if we launch a successful information campaign, we can discredit the find as well as the boy’s heredity. As for Kellen O’Dal’s claim about him and the occupation, we must do the same. If we overreact, her story gains credence, which we must avoid. I say let the SC pay us a visit. We have nothing to hide. All they will find are obedient children loyal to Onotharat,” Andreia heard herself say, accompanied by sharp intakes of breath from the others ar
ound the table. No one ever contradicted the chairman.
“An interesting take on the matter,” M’Ocresta agreed calmly, and smiled. “I’ve always appreciated your candor, Andreia. You remind me of myself in my youth,” she said, and patted her data-filer. “Words are your weapons and you wield them well to keep the Gantharians at bay. Doubtless this method of yours helped us capture the rebels. A useful talent that I may apply with the SC. I will think about what you have said.” Villia M’Ocresta gracefully rose from the chair. “In the meantime would you care to join me in an early evening meal with representatives of the Commercial Lobby and their president?”
“Certainly, Chairman M’Ocresta,” Andreia replied. “I’d be delighted.”
“Very well. I’ll see you in…” M’Ocresta turned to her assistant, who checked his chronometer. “Ninety minutes then. I believe we’re meeting at the president’s residence. Do you know where it is?”
“Yes, Madam Chairman.” The reply came out curt and almost rude, but Andreia didn’t care. The invitation helped make this day one of her worst so far.
“Until then.” M’Ocresta left the room, her entourage in tow. Most of the others followed, leaving Andreia alone with her parents and the provisional Prime Minister of Gantharat.
“What were you thinking?” Le’Tinia scolded. “Do you know how close you came to irreversibly offending the most influential and powerful woman on Onotharat?”
“This isn’t like you,” Valax added, his voice a fraction softer, but with the same absent look in his eyes that he’d had ever since Andreia was young.
“I got invited to her dinner with the Commercial Lobby, didn’t I?” Andreia said, tired of her parents’ criticism, their disdain for her when they were alone. At least they weren’t glorifying her brother, yet.
“I never saw Trax almost drop the ball as you did this morning.” Le’Tinia grabbed her briefcase so forcefully she nearly jerked the handle off.
“Me? I did what I had to. Has it dawned on you that the chairman is probably here because of what my illustrious brother did, or hadn’t that thought crossed your mind? He was the fool that allowed the SC spies to get away with sensitive documents and was killed in the process.”
Suddenly furious and sick of their attitude, she swiveled and glared at them. “I’ve always done everything you’ve asked of me—personally, politically, and patriotically. You can’t fault me for anything! I succeeded in keeping the chairman, whom I didn’t know was going to be here, by the way, from firing you and killing the inhabitants of this world. Not a bad day’s work, I might add, and not only that, she’s pleased enough to ask me to dinner.”
“You don’t need to bring up Trax’s unfortunate accident.”
“I didn’t, the chairman did.” Andreia stared incredulously at her mother. “Really, Mother, only you would call the idiotic idea of going toe-to-toe with a Protector of the Realm an accident.” She gestured dismissively. “You forget, Mother, it was just another of his foolish acts. He had only himself to blame, and you know it.”
“Don’t address your mother this way…” Her father seemed to have awakened and now towered over Andreia, who was shorter than most Onotharians. “Your brother made a heroic, if ill-advised, decision, and his death broke your mother’s heart.”
“I don’t want to fight,” Andreia sighed, well acquainted with how her parents could rant on and on if she didn’t back off. “I have things to do before dinner.”
“Your old friend will be there, won’t she?”
Thank you, Mother. So nice of you to remind me. “Yes, I assume so. She is the president of the Commercial Lobby, after all, and the dinner is being held at her house.” It was hard not to sound contemptuous.
“I insist that you take your bodyguards.” Le’Tinia suddenly became a concerned parent. “After all, some seventy-five percent of the members of the Lobby are Gantharians. You’re popular with most of them, despite things, but after the latest raids against the resistance, you just never know. The word’s out and it’s bound to affect the general opinion of our cause. The guards must keep you safe.”
Andreia agreed with her mother for once. A brewing hatred had flared again after the Onotharian military and their Clandestine Service had so brutally attacked the rebels. “Yes, Mother. I will.”
As Andreia said good-by, she no longer thought about her own physical safety, but focused on the unnerving fact that she was about to be in the same room with her once again. She had successfully avoided being on the same premises as Roshan O’Landha for the last few years, but had known that sooner or later they were bound to meet face to face.
Andreia just wished that it didn’t have to happen like this, on Roshan’s turf. You’re right, Mother. She hates me, and I don’t feel safe at all.
Chapter Two
Roshan looked out the window of the living room, the one room used only for entertaining, and saw the hovercraft arrive in her courtyard. She watched with detachment as the three long, sleek black vehicles settled down outside the front door. Her housing staff would greet the guests and guide them to the impressive room where she would be courteous, with just the right amount of formality expected from a Gantharian when dealing with her homeworld’s occupiers.
She’d done this before, but never with such dignitaries. Chairman M’Ocresta’s presence on Gantharat was the leading story in the Onotharian-controlled media, and Roshan had contacted her superior officers in the resistance cell to discuss how she should proceed. They didn’t have enough time to alert Boyoda, the code name for the enigmatic resistance leader who rarely made a personal appearance.
Roshan thought about the mysterious person who’d helped them succeed in many dangerous missions by providing accurate and timely intel. Boyoda’s information had saved Roshan’s life on more than one occasion when there had seemed to be no way out. Whether providing blueprints of official structures or vessels, crew manifests, or top-secret schedules for guards at military installations, Boyoda seemed to sit on a treasure trove. Roshan knew her cell superiors praised and admired their leader, though they’d never met the person behind the suggestive code name. The boyoda was also the symbol of the royal family of Gantharat, the O’Saral Royales.
However, Boyoda hadn’t warned them of the Onotharians’ recent brutal attack that had resulted in the capture of Roshan’s commanding officer, Berentar, a former commander in the broken Gantharian army. He’d fought the Onotharians for more than two years, before the military surrendered and became a token installation to give the Gantharians a false impression of control. Berentar and Roshan had joined the same resistance cell within weeks of each other and developed an easygoing friendship and a mutual trust. As his second-in-command, Roshan knew most of what went on within the resistance, but she was still not privy to all the information, which suited her fine. She was a resistance fighter, a soldier, and could not be bothered with the political machinery. Seething at the thought of the Onotharians’ disastrous offensive, Roshan was sure the resistance had been compromised; there was no other explanation.
The thought of Berentar still missing from their last mission, probably incarcerated, perhaps even dead, made Roshan swallow back the taste of acidic anger. On her way back home to Ganath, she’d talked on a secure line with Jubinor, her next in command, several times, desperate for updates on her cell members, and when the casualties rose every time he contacted her, her anger and determination climbed with them.
So many of their senior officers, the seasoned and most experienced ones, were missing. Reports came in that they had been captured and rounded up at base camps all around the northern hemisphere. After that, there was no word as yet as to what had happened to them, but Roshan could guess. She envisioned the gruesome asteroid prisons and curled her fingers into tight fists.
“The Onotharian Chairman M’Ocresta, ma’am.” The soothing voice of Wellter, her butler, interrupted her dark thoughts.
“Chairman M’Ocresta, welcome,” Roshan greeted, and f
orced detached friendliness into her tone. “This is such an honor. My fellow board members will be here in just a few minutes. I wanted to welcome you in private. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not, President O’Landha.” Villia M’Ocresta seemed just as forceful as her reputation suggested. She placed both hands on Roshan’s upper arms in the customary Onotharian greeting. “It is a most impressive and beautiful structure. A lovely home.”
“Thank you—”
“Ms. Andreia M’Aldovar, ma’am.”
What? Roshan’s head snapped up.
“I took the liberty of asking Ms. M’Aldovar to join us,” M’Ocresta said with a sly smile. “Gantharat is her homeworld, after all, and I thought I could use a guide.”
Roshan was certain that her racing heart drowned out every other sound. She hadn’t seen Andreia for more than five years, at least not like this. She wore a deep red suit, with a long flowing wool-lace jacket interwoven with sparkling threads. The golden highlights made her amber eyes glitter, and if it hadn’t been for their present company, or the fact that Andreia was working for the enemy, Roshan would have been able to admit how stunning her former friend was.
“Andreia. What a…surprise.” It was impossible to be more than barely polite.
“Thank you, Roshan. I know this was last minute, but I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to spend time with our esteemed chairman.”
“Naturally.” You’re drawn to everyone with power like a besa-bee to a honey pot, aren’t you? To Roshan, it was little wonder that Andreia now held the powerful position of envoy to the Gantharian people. Presumably, they might consider trusting her, as she was born on Gantharat, almost one of them. And I know just how much of a traitor that makes you.
