Principles of Desolation

by Randall N Bills

  She didn't know what to say, what to believe. But she knew she wanted to believe Nikol. And right now a friend would be a very, very good thing.

  "You didn't?" she said.

  "I would never," Nikol said. "Never. Look, I know state matters are important. I know what we have to do sometimes, when we're in ruling families. But there are lines I will not cross. Compromises I refuse to make. I can't let the state determine how I treat people, to make me betray them at the drop of a hat. The state's for us, not the other way around."

  Danai started. It was almost an exact echo of what Erde had told her. Either Nikol and Erde had been in secret communication, or the unseen powers of the universe were being none too subtle about delivering a message.

  "Okay," Danai said. "Okay. I believe you."

  "Can you sit down now?" Nikol said.

  Danai almost smiled. "Yes."

  They talked. It wasn't like old times yet—Danai's head was still too full of secrets that she wasn't ready to divulge—but it was friendly. Better than that, it was warm.

  At one point in the conversation Nikol reached out and grabbed Danai's hand. "I didn't even tell you! Guess who's here!"

  "Who?"

  "The man you saved me from back on Terra! Frederick Marik!"

  Danai whistled. "Wow. Persistent, isn't he?"

  "Apparently. But at least here there's plenty of other members of my family around to distract him, so he doesn't have to focus on me. I was hoping mother would tell him what he could do with his proposal, but apparently she's more tenderhearted than I give her credit for. She hasn't booted him off-planet yet."

  "Maybe she's considering offering you to him."

  "My mother would never do that," Nikol said, "since she knows full well I could get my hand on suicide pills if I needed them."

  They talked about a dozen other things, including war, diplomacy and, in general details, the problems of possessing certain last names. In the end, the conversation— which Danai had feared would be painfully long— seemed all too short. But the spinning political wheels of the Inner Sphere would not slow down just for Danai, so it was time to leave.

  "Guess it's time to go be a sao-shao again," Danai said.

  "As if you don't enjoy it."

  Danai shrugged. "There's good parts and bad parts. Like anything else."

  "I know," Nikol said. "You should try diplomacy full- time. One day you're working on treaties with the major powers of the Inner Sphere, the next you're having to explain to residents of a small town that as long as pig farming is going to be their major industry, they'll just have to put up with the smell."

  Danai smiled. "Diplomacy's got plenty of unpleasant odors of its own."

  "Anything that touches politics does." Nikol grew serious. "Which is why I promise anything we say to each other will never get dragged down into politics. We can be above that."

  Danai nodded slowly. "We can try. But when you're a Liao or a Marik—when you're us—politics has a way of keeping you in its grasp. Look at our families. Everything they do, every relationship they have, is touched by it. They breathe politics every moment. They haven't found a way to get above it." "We will," Nikol said.

  "How can you be sure?"

  "Because it's us! And because we'll promise each other we'll be above it."

  "That's it?"

  "That's plenty."

  "Okay," Danai said. Having a relationship with someone who wanted nothing from her but friendship would be a novel experiment, but one she was more than ready to try.

  Nikol stood. "Give 'em hell," she said, and hugged Danai. Danai hugged her back, and at least one thing was right in the universe.

  * * *

  The DropShip lifted off not long afterward, taking the Capellan representatives home. Jessica and Nikol formed part of the official Oriente delegation that saw them off. They sat in a small room on an upper level of the DropPort, with windows all around to watch ships as they came and went. Once the Capellan ship was gone, most of the delegation returned to work, but Jessica and Nikol stayed in the private room. Jessica ordered an early dinner to be brought up, and the two of them sat at the square white table in the middle of the room.

  "Where did you run off to earlier?" Jessica asked.

  "To talk to Danai. She called me."

  "Really? I thought she was angry with you. Does this mean you two patched things up?"

  "Yes, Mother, we did."

  "May I ask what the cause of the rift was in the first place?"

  "No, you may not."

  Jessica rested her chin on the back of her hands, gazing at Nikol. Then she apparently decided to let the matter drop.

  "Fine, then," she said. "Everything else went well this morning. I'm glad your talk did, too."

  "You know, in all we talked about, the negotiations didn't come up. What happened?"

  Jessica summarized the agreement for her daughter.

  Nikol whistled. "Wow. Just what you wanted." She raised a bottle of cranberry juice, part of the meal that had just been brought in. "Here's a toast to overreaching."

  "We call it 'plateau bargaining,' dear," Jessica said. "But I'll drink to it by any name."

  They clinked bottles together, drank and gazed at the thick forest at the edge of the long tarmac.

  "This isn't over yet, of course." Jessica said after some thought. "Really, none of this ever is. Danai described the chancellor as angry at our requests, but by her description he folded so easily that he was more petulant than anything else. It seems too easy."

  "A little buyer's remorse?" Nikol suggested. "You get what you thought was a good price, only to think you could have gotten more if you'd pressed harder?"

  "Something like that. What's clear to me is, despite the openness of our one conversation, neither of us was laying all our cards on the table. Which is fine—there's not a table big enough to display our collected secrets and machinations. But I think some of the Confederation's maneuvering has something to do with Andurien. Just because I think we have the upper hand now doesn't mean we'll keep it. We need to keep our eyes open."

  "Don't we always?" Nikol said. "But we took a step forward. The Marik name just got a little bigger in the Inner Sphere."

  "As it should be," Jessica said.

  27

  Zi-jin Cheng, Sian

  Capellan Confederation

  15 August 3136

  Gongs sounded across the Forbidden City, deliberately staggered and arrhythmic. The courtyard in front of the CelestialPalace burned in the hot sun as the echoes of the scattered instruments vibrated in the air. Banners of Liao green hung limp on the windless day. With the noise and the stultifyingly humid air, the courtyard was not a comfortable place to be, and most residents of the Forbidden City wisely stayed indoors.

  That made the courtyard the perfect place for Danai. She sat on a small bench on the west side of the courtyard, sheltered by a brown roof that stretched out for five meters around the perimeter of the large open area. Sweat trickled down her neck, down her back, even though she had done nothing more strenuous for an hour than sit perfectly still.

  Daoshen was expecting her. She knew she was supposed to report to him as soon as she landed, and she had followed instructions precisely right up until the moment she entered the courtyard. She saw the doors of the CelestialPalace across the way and froze. She knew what was behind there, who was behind there, and even though she had worked hard on the long journey home to make herself ready, she wasn't. Even on the best days, during the times she thought he was her brother, he held an odd sway over her. Now that she knew the truth about him. that power had grown even greater. He could intimidate her when he was nowhere near her.

  That was no way for a warrior to feel. So Danai had sat, finding a shady spot in the courtyard where she could gather and strengthen her will.

  She tried to remember Kai. There was a brief overlap in their lives, a mere four years, and when Danai imagined his face she couldn't be sure if it was based on h
er own memories or of the countless holovids she had seen of him. But just as her earliest memories of Daoshen came with a kick of dread, her thoughts of Kai Allard- Liao came with feelings of warmth and strength. He would certainly know how to be his own person and stand up to Daoshen. And though she'd been a small child, he had seen something in her, regarded her highly enough, that he left her the greatest gift she had ever received in her life. She still didn't understand why he had done that, but the thought that he had that faith in her was a great comfort as she prepared to face the chancellor one more time.

  After an hour of meditation, she felt somewhat better. She knew she would still feel intimidated in Daoshen's presence, but she might at least be able to keep her knee from shaking.

  Her heart racing, she stood. She walked slowly but with stateliness.

  The equipment around the doors performed its array of tests as she approached, and the doors opened silently as she came near. They were Liao green, giant wooden double doors with a series of ever-diminishing rectangles carved into each one. They opened outward, and Danai stood still so they wouldn't hit her as they moved. Then she entered.

  She walked through the corridors that led to the throne room, and when the herald asked who she was she said her rank and name, nothing else. The herald showed her in immediately, without checking with Daoshen.

  She stayed at the far end of the throne room when she entered, her back practically pressing on the door. She saw Daoshen ahead, the dark shadows of his brow completely obscuring his eyes. He was motionless— Danai thought he might be unconscious, but then he spoke.

  "You know better than that," he said. "Approach the throne."

  She jerked forward as if he had yanked on strings attached to her knees. It was the most graceless stroll she had made since she was a toddler, but it took her to the middle of the throne room. She bowed, long and deep, mainly so she could avoid looking directly at him.

  "We have awaited your return," Daoshen intoned. "We assume that, after all this time, your diplomatic mission is complete. We also assume you have succeeded, for you do not have the bearing of one returning in complete disgrace."

  "Yes, Chancellor," Danai said. "I have a new agreement. Signed by Captain-General Jessica Marik. You may inspect it."

  "Bring it here."

  She walked forward, her right arm stiff in front of her, holding out a copy of the document. She saw his face more clearly and felt a stabbing in her chest, seeing him in the flesh as her father for the first time. But her legs held steady.

  His fingers, long and thin, nimble as snakes, snatched the paper away. Danai retreated once the paper left her grasp.

  Daoshen's head bent, casting even longer, darker shadows over his face as he silently scanned the document.

  "Why was one of your officers arrested?" he finally asked.

  "It's a long story," Danai said. "But it came down to a simple misunderstanding. That's why Marik was willing to let him go without any charges."

  "The arrest of an officer reflects badly on a commander," Daoshen said, and he sounded as if he expected Danai to immediately write down what he said, word for word, and remember it forever.

  She didn't. She remained in place, waiting for him to finish reading the agreement.

  Then he spoke again. "You told the captain-general that Andurien would not be a threat, which, thanks to activities far outside your control, is true. She then offered to attack the planets she had agreed to move against as part of our previous agreement."

  "Right," Danai said.

  "Then neither of you really gave the other anything new. You simply put the general terms of the verbal agreement into clear writing."

  "Yes."

  "That is acceptable," Daoshen said. "It seems that, on this occasion, you did not fail to live up to the trust we placed in you."

  That, Danai knew, was as close as she was going to get to a thank you. From Daoshen's perspective, she had merely done what she was supposed to. He would no more thank her for her mission's success than he would thank a flower for blooming. Both events were merely indications that the universe was traveling in its proper course.

  Daoshen let the hand holding the paper fall onto the armrest of his throne. Danai knew she was about to be dismissed. But she wasn't ready to leave yet.

  "I should tell you," she said quickly, before Daoshen could announce that the meeting was over, "that the Mariks know nothing of the pending wedding of Ilsa and Duke Humphreys. I didn't have to reveal that tidbit to make them feel safe."

  Daoshen sat impassively.

  "That means you still have that as a weapon," Danai said. "Or a wedge or a lever, whatever you want it to be. For the next seven months or so, it's yours to do with as you please."

  Daoshen remained expressionless. But somehow, the room seemed to brighten a touch. The atmosphere grew a fraction less oppressive. She had the distinct impression she'd pleased him.

  "That exceeds expectations," he said. "It perhaps has earned you the commendation of the Confederation."

  "I don't want a commendation," Danai said bluntly.

  "Then what is it you want?"

  "Aldebaran."

  Daoshen raised a single narrow eyebrow.

  "I want to go back there. No games, no politics. Just me and my entire battalion. I want to go there and show them how Capellans fight."

  "Should you go, you will receive no additional assistance from me. No reinforcements. And to ask for such assistance would indicate a grave failure, which is a particularly serious matter on a mission you specifically requested."

  "I won't ask you for anything," Danai said. "I just want to take my whole battalion there and do that planet right. And once we've got that, we'll take Zurich for good measure."

  Daoshen then—smiled? Did he smile? Did Daoshen ever smile? If he did, Danai thought, that might have been it, a serpentine curl of the lips. Then he nodded.

  Danai bowed deeply and left the throne room. She needed no other response.

  The meeting, all told, had been a bracing success. No long lectures. No criticism. And she even gained a concession from him, slight though it was (Daoshen, like most Liaos, did not need much persuading to approve a mission of conquest). Still, though, something about the meeting had seemed odd. Daoshen had been Daoshen, as he always was and always would be, but something about his manner felt off. It took Danai a long time to put her finger on it.

  Then she had it. Not once in the course of the meeting had he mentioned his message to her. Not once had he called her his daughter, his child. Her world had been turned upside down, but as far as Daoshen was concerned, nothing important had changed.

  That thought made Danai's skin crawl, and it made her grateful to be leaving the palace and leaving Sian. Leaving her father behind for a good, long time.

  28

  Outside Wen Ho, Aldebaran

  Republic of the Sphere

  14 October 3136

  The last arrangements had been made inside the trailer that Gartin Krauss had positioned next to his gambling hall. A crude hallway connected the two, and Krauss had just finished stuffing the walls with enough insulation to prevent cold drafts from blowing through and disturbing his customers.

  Most of his old gaming equipment was going into the trailer—that is, most of the equipment besides the stuff he'd put into storage. He had a few card tables in there now, a row of slot machines and a craps table. It was a little cramped, but since it didn't draw much of a crowd, it was acceptable.

  His main hall, with its new royal blue carpet, cafe tables, wrought-iron chairs and fully stocked bar (with hot sandwiches and pastries available along with the liquor), was now ready to handle all the action the citizens of Wen Ho were willing to give him.

  He hadn't, of course, taken that first bet nearly a year ago, when the Capellans first came to Aldebaran. He'd been too busy following government instructions to evacuate in case of invasion. But he'd been allowed to return once the Capellans were chased out of Jifang Po
, and he had found, to his surprise and relief, that his modest hall had survived the Capellans' passage. Not only had it survived, but a customer had been standing patiently outside, waiting for it to open. It was the same lumpy man who had been trying to place a bet on military maneuvers when the sirens had announced the Capellans' arrival.

  "You should've taken my bet," the lumpy man had told him when Krauss unlocked the front doors. "I was going to bet on the Oriente Protectorate."

  "The Protectorate?" Krauss had scoffed. "Who in the hell would bet on the Protectorate?"

  "I had some inside information," the lumpy man had said.

  That had started wheels spinning in Krauss' head. He still had some moral issues with taking bets on war, but he also had moral issues with not eating. People hadn't been playing for fun lately, but maybe he could interest them in a little blood sport as long as the Capellans were still on the planet. He needed to make a buck while he could—the whole planet might fall, then the Capellans would take over, and who knew what they'd do to the place.

  So he'd talked to the lumpy man a little bit, and eventually took his first military wager—fifty C-bills saying the Capellans would beat back the Triarii.

  When the outcome of the fighting finally became clear, Krauss collected money not only from the lumpy man but from a number of other patrons who had shown up, interested in making a little profit off of the planet's misfortune. He'd paid some of the money out to a second group of people who'd put their money on the Triarii but, as was always the case with a knowledgeable bookie, the vigorish came to a nice sum.

  With a growing crowd of willing bettors, Krauss expanded to matters political as well as military. How long would Legate Juk hold on to her command? Would Governor Sampson be deposed, resign or serve out his term? Who would be the next governor of Zurich? Some people had wanted to put money on the total number of casualties from the fighting on Aldebaran, but Krauss drew the line there. You could bet on winners and losers, he said, but not deaths.