He squeezed her shoulder with his left hand. “Let me give it some thought,” he repeated, then kissed her on the cheek.
“Don’t wait too long before making a decision, the clock is ticking. Things may seem all right for now, but the first rule of politics is that nothing ever stays the same.”
He leaned in and kissed her. “You really have grown ambitious, haven’t you?”
“Yes, I’m ambitious. I spent most of my early life on the ice slopes of an arctic wasteland. The only reason Odessa was ever settled in the first place is that humanity grasps at any planet we can live on, no matter how horrible it is. Odessa is a poor, cold world. The people there deserve better, and I can help to give them a better life—but only if I have power.”
“Doesn’t it ever get warm there?”
“Warm on Odessa is anytime it’s above freezing. The cold sticks to you like a second skin.” She shivered just thinking about it and started to finish off her glass of wine, but then decided she’d had enough. “Victor, I worry about you.”
“You worry too much.”
“And you don’t worry enough. You act like everything’s fine, but it’s never fine for too long.” She turned toward him, crossing her arms. “I know you. You’re not even going to give the election idea serious consideration, are you?”
His face grew stern. “It all seems so, I don’t know, so—tawdry. Frankly, I don’t want our relationship publicly dragged through the mud.”
“As you yourself just said, it’s going to come out anyway, so let’s use it to our advantage. Afraid I can’t take it? No wait, maybe it’s you who can’t take it.”
“Neither of us should have to take it at all,” he barked, “We already have the power!”
“Then use it! Put down the Arethusan protests. Put the damn Gerrhans in their place. I’m sorry, but you’re just so damn frustrating—you’re a dictator who won’t dictate!”
A silence fell in the room as both of them sensed the need to rein in their emotions. Polanco spoke in a measured voice. “There’s an old adage: if you do things right, no one will ever know that you’ve done anything at all. Believe me when I tell you that steps have been taken to handle these problems. As long as we have the media cartel and the other mega-corporations on our side, we can handle any problem.”
“You do realize that the megacorps aren’t on our side, they’re just acting in their own best interests.”
“I know. We just have to let them think they’re in charge.”
She gave a short laugh. “How do you know they’re not?”
“Because we’re the ones with the star cruisers and Marines.”
“A day may come when that’s not enough. Why did you take power in the first place?”
“Oh, Rennie, we’ve been over this before,” he said in a tired voice.
“We’ve had a lot of pillow talk about it, but indulge me for a moment while we’re both on our feet. Why did you overthrow President McDaniel? What were your plans after you won power?”
“I wanted to get society moving again, to end the endless political acrimony which served only the politicians and not our people. And I believe that with your help, we’ve done that. The Zenith Program, the banking initiative, educational restructuring: they’re all examples of things we would have never accomplished under the old system, because they would have been debated to death and killed by posturing politicians and special interests. We’ve accomplished a lot in twenty months.”
“That’s true, I agree,” she said. “And what about the next twenty months? The next two years? Five years? What’s your vision?”
“My vision?”
“Yes, your vision—for our worlds, for our people?”
He hesitated. “To help the people. To make our society one of opportunity and fairness for its citizens.”
“I see. So we help our people by climbing into bed with the megacorps, who as we all know, always have the best interests of our people at heart.”
“Rennie,” he pleaded, throwing up his hands in mock surrender.
He moved to embrace her again and she stopped him. “Look, I’m tired and a little drunk, so I’m going to have Stormy pour me into the limo and take me home. Sorry I’ve upset you.”
“Rennie, dear, I’m sorry I’ve upset you,” he said awkwardly. “I’d hoped that we could…”
“Not tonight. Really, I just need to go home.”
“Do you still love me?” he asked, looking for reassurance the way men always do in such situations.
She moved to give him a hug. “Of course I do. I don’t like you very much right now, but that will pass by morning. However, I do love you, very much.”
He kissed her softly, with his lips and with his heart. She knew the evening would end like this, but hated the way they had arrived at this point. As she kissed back, she also worried about the future. Nothing ever stays the same…
10: Warrior
Bakkoa, Rhuzari settlement
Planet Earth
Nobody liked a good party better than the Rhuzari. That’s probably what every sentient species across the universe told themselves thought Lord Governor Sheel as he sat on the dais. The raised platform had been constructed especially for this occasion under the watchful eye of Deputy Governor Goran. In fact, the entire festival had been organized by the Deputy Governor and he had done a splendid job. Goran was a detail man, and being one himself, Sheel appreciated that. It was a great stroke of luck to have happened upon him. Whereas Sheel had sought out the likes of Naar and Tharp, Goran had virtually fallen into his lap. The man was intelligent, anxious to please, and most important of all, he did what he was told and asked few questions. Of course, Goran wasn’t in Sheel’s hire like many in the Government Compound, but he was a good man and handy to have about, especially for days like today.
It was Reunification Day, the celebration of renewed contact with the Homeworld. For a dozen years, the settlement of Bakkoa had struggled, grown, and flourished. They had progressed without the all-knowing hand of the Emperor and his Imperial Court directing their every move. Bakkoans had accomplished more in twelve years than most Rhuzari communities did in fifty, even under the inept guidance of the late Cheprin. Now, it would all come crashing down under the heavy heel of the Homeworld.
Or perhaps not. Sheel needed the help of the man sitting next to him—Fleetmaster Haldryn. However, as it stood for the moment, that didn’t look promising. In the wake of the tragic demise of Cheprin, Haldryn had put off meeting with the new Lord Governor for several days, questioning the legitimacy of Sheel’s ascension to the leadership of the colony. Finally, the military commander agreed to travel planetside and the Reunification Day festivities were hurriedly organized. It would be a way to soften up Haldryn and his people. These military types loved to think of themselves as heroes, so let the masses hail the arrival of their champions.
Fleetmaster Haldryn and his staff had landed at the shuttleport on the east side of Bakkoa. From there, they were chauffeured to the site of the festivities. Wearing their imposing royal blue uniforms, replete with symbolic Imperial daggers sheathed on their belts, the fleetmaster and his staff cut impressive figures before the assembled masses. They were feasted, wined, entertained, lauded, celebrated, and honored—and apparently hated it all. The fleetmaster said almost nothing, ate almost nothing, and drank almost nothing. He had the perpetual look of somebody sitting downwind of a latrine. Naar had been flirting away and had gotten zero response. Either the man didn’t like women or was asexual, because Naar could play the libidos of most men like a fine musical instrument.
So when the ceremonies and feasting had ended, Lord Governor Sheel was actually relieved. The afternoon had apparently been an unqualified failure, but on the bright side, at least it was over. He assumed the fleetmaster would want to be taken back to the east side of town, climb aboard his shuttlecraft and return to his flagship, the titan Imperial Wrath. When that was not the case, Sheel was surprised. After two hou
rs of sitting next to each other and barely saying a word, now the fleetmaster wanted to talk.
Rather than haul his guest to the Government Compound, Sheel suggested they take a stroll in the nearby botanical gardens.
“I’m surprised to see such use of land in the middle of a relatively new colony, Sheel,” the fleetmaster commented as they ambled along the crushed limestone pathways, trailed at a discrete distance by Naar and High Captain Balasi, the fleetmaster’s Chief of Staff. “Do you not think it wasteful?”
“A colony must be more than factories and housing, Fleetmaster,” responded Sheel, who truly believed it to be so.
Haldryn sighed, clearly not seeing it the same way. The man was maybe 40 True, solidly built with dark brown hair, and a scar on his right cheek. Naar will undoubtedly find that scar exciting thought Sheel the first time he saw the fleetmaster’s face on a viewscreen. Haldryn was from a High Noble family and had an excellent military record. Honestly, Sheel didn’t care one way or the other about the man’s particulars, all he needed was that colossal warship in orbit.
“Parks such as this one provide the people with recreation and relaxation. Building a colony is hard work,” the Lord Governor explained, as they passed a well-tended bed of irises. “It’s also nice for families, which we work hard to encourage. Do you have a family back home, Fleetmaster?”
Haldryn’s eyes lit up and Sheel knew he had scored. “Yes, Lord Governor, I have a beautiful wife and two fine children: Sava, my seventeen year old daughter, and my son Ludan, who is ten. I’ll certainly be happy to get back home next week to see them.”
Sheel stopped in his tracks. “Next week? Fleetmaster, you’re not leaving us so soon are you? Taking one of the transports back?”
“Fleetmasters do not travel in transports, Sheel,” Haldryn corrected him in a haughty voice. “Actually, that’s why I wanted to have this talk. I’ll be taking the Imperial Wrath back to the Homeworld next week, along with one of the cruisers.”
Haldryn began to walk again as they turned up a small rise toward some lavender bushes. Sheel was ruffled by this turn of events. “But Fleetmaster, this system could be under attack at any moment. The humans in this area of space have already sent probes to scout us and they know we’re here. We need your protection.”
“I’ve read your reports, Sheel. You say there is no sign of the Adversary, is that correct?”
“Well, that’s true,” Sheel conceded. “The locals here haven’t explored out far enough yet.”
“Well then, there should be no problem. The force I leave behind should be sufficient to repel any attack your galactic neighbors might be able to mount. Their technology is too weak to challenge us.”
“But their numbers may not be,” the Lord Governor protested.
They came to a bench and both sat down. Naar and Balasi sat on a nearby bench, with Naar sitting very close to the captain.
Haldryn seemed to drop some of his officiousness. “When your expedition didn’t arrive at its destination, everyone assumed you were all dead. Robotic probes were sent through the Threshold at Rhuzar, but none of them ever returned. Our finest scientific minds had no idea what the problem was, let alone how to fix it. Without Doctor Acree’s guidance, we were lost. A few years after you disappeared, our Threshold was torn apart for scrap.
“Sheel, I sympathize with you, but this is an Imperial order and I have no choice but to obey. Understand that I feel that you and your people have done a first-rate job here. I know the Emperor will be pleased. The situation all of you were thrust into and the way you responded… Truly remarkable. And the construction of a new Threshold—simply amazing.”
Sheel’s face was ashen. “Thank you for your praise.”
Haldryn looked around as if to check whether anyone was watching or listening. “This is off the record. Within a standard month, two at the most, a wave of construction and colony ships will be transiting through the Threshold.”
“Really?” was all that Sheel could spit out.
“Really. By this time next year, there will be dozens of cities on this world. And most importantly, one of them is to be the new Imperial capital. When construction is completed, the Emperor will relocate the Imperial Court here. We will conquer this space for hundreds of light years in all directions. And, the next time the Adversary comes, we will be ready for them. What do you say to that?”
Sheel didn’t know what to say. Haldryn mistook the bearded man’s silence for awe, but in truth, it was incredulity and calculation.
“Of course,” the fleetmaster continued in a somber tone, “arriving along with the construction and colony ships will also be your replacement.”
That jolted Sheel out of his silence. “My what?” he screeched.
“Your replacement. Surely, you understand. This colony has become one of the most important places in the Rhuzari Empire and the Empire is only as strong as its weakest link—nothing personal, Sheel. Considering the death of Lord Governor Cheprin, his replacement by one of the High Nobles will be in order.”
Sheel glowered at the fleetmaster, which in return irritated the military man. “Don’t blame me, the Emperor will insist. There’s going to be a great amount of personnel movement through the Threshold in the upcoming days and months. The terraformers didn’t like it either, but we all have to do our part for the—“
“The terraformers?” Sheel interrupted. “What about the terraformers?”
Haldryn gave the Lord Governor a condescending look. “They complained that they didn’t want to go home when I gave the orders, but we all have to do our part for the—“
“You sent the terraformers home? Through the Threshold? When?”
“This morning.”
That was it. Evidently, a new approach was in order. Sheel rose from the bench and scowled down at the man in the royal blue uniform. “Fleetmaster Haldryn, you had no right to order the terraformers out of this system without consulting me. I AM the Imperial Lord Governor of the lone colony in the Sol system, and by Imperial Code, that also makes me the Lord Governor of the entire star system.”
Both Naar and High Captain Balasi gawked over at them as voices were raised. “Now see here! You’re only a Lesser Lord!”
“As you say!” Sheel fired back. “But Lesser Lord or not, until such time as the Imperial Court relieves me, as Lord Governor I AM your superior and expect to be treated as such. Do I make myself clear, Fleetmaster?”
Haldryn stood slowly. Glancing at the dagger on the fleetmaster’s belt, Sheel considered the possibility that the younger man might do something rash. Perhaps he had overplayed his hand, but he was committed. By now, Balasi had joined his commanding officer and Naar had taken up a place beside Sheel.
The fleetmaster faced Sheel and looked him square in the eye. “My apologies, Lord Governor. You are correct that I overstepped my authority in regards to the terraformers. It will not happen again—sir.” Both men held each other’s gaze. Haldryn then added with a thin smile sneaking across his face, “Honestly, Lord Governor, I misjudged you. That shall not happen again, either.”
It was nearing sundown and shadows were starting to grow a little taller across the gardens. A gentle breeze blew over the pathways, as if to cool down the heated exchange that had just taken place. Sheel didn’t feel like cooling down however and he decided to press his advantage, temporary though it may be.
“Tharp!” the Lord Governor called out. From behind a nearby tree appeared Sheel’s youthful brute, along with another of the colonial guards on his payroll. Their appearance took the two military men by surprise.
“Tharp, escort the Fleetmaster and the High Captain back to their staffs and make sure they all get to the shuttleport safely.”
Haldryn and Balasi both made a slight bow to Sheel and walked away, accompanied by the Governor’s men. When they were safely out of earshot, Naar summed it all up.
“They’re pissed.”
“So am I,” Sheel replied. “Dammit! We needed tho
se terraformers.”
“Yeah, I eavesdropped on most of your little talk while I was entertaining High Captain Boring. The loss of that big warship is going to hurt.”
“We’re not going to lose the Imperial Wrath, my dear. It’s now quite obvious that Fleetmaster Haldryn is a royal buffoon. We must move up our timetable.”
11: Stroll
Earlier that day, two figures arrived on the outskirts of the city. They had walked the twelve kilometers from Kite and Kestrel to the edge of town in just under three hours. At first, they kept to the forested areas, but then the terrain gave way to more open country. They passed abandoned buildings overrun with flora and the ruins of a small village, the bits which nature had not reclaimed. Sanchez remarked that it was as if they were the ghosts of Earth’s original residents and in a way, she was right. About seven klicks from the edge of the town, they found the remains of a road and began passing farms—active farms. There weren’t many at first, but more popped up the closer they got to town.
The few people who were outside either ignored them or gave them a friendly wave from long distance. Luckily, they weren’t close enough for conversation, although that was going to happen eventually. Frank Carr hadn’t been on a farm since he was a child, but Etta Sanchez grew up in the agrarian culture that most Quijanans lived. According to Sanchez, the farm equipment being employed was like nothing she had ever seen. There were also domesticated animals—cows, sheep, pigs, chickens, and some large birds which Carr called super-chickens in jest. Sanchez referred to them as ostriches.
“I thought you grew up on a coffee plantation, Sanchez. How do you know so much about these kinds of farms?” he asked as they walked along.
“It was Quijano. We’re an agricultural planet and there are farms and farmers everywhere. One of my uncles—not the admiral, another uncle—had a dairy farm. I used to go there to visit my cousins when I was a kid. There were coffee plantations, vineyards, vegetable farms, you name it.” Carr could hear a wisp of nostalgia in her voice. “These people have been here at least five or so years. Those cows look five years old minimum, and if they colonized—”
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