by C. J. Ryan
“Yes,” said Benedict, “a thousand and twelve dreary light-years from Earth, I’m afraid, but an interesting position, nonetheless. My first go at managing indigs.”
“Indigs” was Empire-speak for indigenous populations, meaning alien civilizations. Petra nodded and asked, “Have you governed elsewhere?”
“Third time around,” Benedict said. “Once for Darius, once for Gregory, and now, Charles has called upon me. Wasn’t really eager for the assignment, but I was at loose ends anyway, and one doesn’t say no to an Emperor, does one?”
“I never have,” Petra agreed.
“As a matter of fact,” said Benedict, “I wanted to have a talk with you about this, Palmer. No time like the present, I suppose. Fact is, I have a few slots to fill in the Dexta portion of my staff. Think you might be interested in taking a crack at being my Undersecretary for Administration?”
Pug’s eyes widened. “Are you serious, Uncle Benedict?”
“Entirely. Undersecs are Thirteens, of course. I gather you’re still a Fourteen?”
Pug nodded.
“Figures,” said Benedict. “Promotion in Dexta is so damnably slow.”
“Not really,” Pug said. “I mean, I was a Fifteen for less than a year, and I got the bump to Fourteen just last summer.”
“Still, for a young man of your quality, it’s such a waste to linger in the lower echelons. That’s why I want you for this Undersec slot, my boy. My Imperial Secretary will be a carryover, and I’ll need her experience for the first year, of course. But after that, I can request her transfer and promote you to fill the position. A year from now, you’ll be an Imperial Secretary and a Twelve. What say?”
Pug didn’t quite gape or dither, but he was clearly taken aback by the offer. He glanced uncertainly at Petra, then back at his great-uncle. “I don’t quite know what to say, Uncle Benedict. I thank you for the offer. It sounds like a wonderful opportunity.”
“I should think so,” said Benedict. “Yet I sense hesitation.” He raised an eyebrow and peered expectantly at his young relation.
“Well…it’s kind of…uh, sudden. And, uh, Petra and I…”
“Ah, I understand. Ms. Nash, you are, I believe, a Thirteen?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, I believe I might be able to open up another Undersec slot on Pelham, come to that. A Dexta position, of course, so I’d have to finagle a bit. They don’t seem to appreciate Imperial appointees messing about in their cricket pitch. Might take a few months to clear it, but I see no reason why you couldn’t join Palmer in relatively short order.”
“Uh…that’s very considerate and generous of you, sir,” Petra said.
“Then it’s settled?”
Pug and Petra looked at each other for a moment. Then Pug looked back at his great-uncle and said, “I certainly appreciate your offer, Uncle Benedict. We both do. It’s just that we already have a commitment to our present positions in the OSI, and I don’t know if we could just walk away from that.”
“Don’t be silly, lad. This is a Spirit-sent opportunity for a capable youngster such as yourself. I know your parents would be very disappointed if you were to turn your back on this. And as for OSI”—Benedict cleared his throat—“I have it on good authority that Ms. VanDeen’s rogue operation is about to be consigned to the ash heap of Dexta’s history. You’ll do yourself no good, my boy, by clinging to the timbers of a sinking ship.”
“Sinking ship?” Petra protested. “Now just a—”
“What Petra means,” Pug quickly interjected, “is that there are personal and professional loyalties involved. We can’t simply turn our backs on Gloria.”
“Do you honestly believe that she wouldn’t do the same to you, if it suited her purposes? My sources at Court—and they are very good sources, at that—tell me that Charles has made a very attractive offer to Ms. VanDeen, and that she is seriously considering returning to him.”
“What?” cried Petra. “She’d never do that. Never!”
Benedict smiled at her indulgently. “I’m sure you want to believe that, my dear,” he said, “but those ‘personal and professional loyalties’ you seem to value so much are entirely ephemeral, let me assure you. You’re still very young, so you believe that everything is eternal. When you’re older, you’ll realize that nothing lasts, nothing endures—certainly not anything as insubstantial and abstract as ‘loyalty.’ ”
“Gloria is my best friend,” Petra insisted.
“Is she, now? Well, then, perhaps she’ll take you along when she returns to Charles. Personal secretary, that sort of thing. But if you intend to remain with Dexta, come what may, then I think you should consider the position I’ve just mentioned. And you, as well, Palmer. I don’t require an answer this evening, in any event. I’ll be around for the Quadrant Meeting. We’ll talk again.” With that, Benedict turned away from Pug and Petra and struck up another conversation.
Petra eyed Pug uncertainly as they walked away. “Pug?”
Pug pulled her a little closer. “Don’t worry about it,” he told her.
But she did.
WORRIES NOTWITHSTANDING, IT WAS AS GLAMOROUS and enjoyable an evening as Petra could recall. She whirled around the dance floor with Pug, feeling lighter than air and as bubbly as champagne. She knew she was the center of attention and that many eyes were upon her as she spun and twirled to the music. Throwing caution to the wind, she set her gown’s transparency at 90 percent and let her shoulder straps fall, flouncing around the room nearly as nude as she had been during her stint as a bar girl in Elba’s Emporium back on Sylvania. She was determined to let the nobs and snobs of New Cambridge see that the Ellison lad’s new flame was unafraid and unintimidated. She wondered if Gloria felt this way all the time.
In due course, she met two more of Pug’s old girlfriends, neither of whom seemed to be a candidate for a convent or a mortuary. She also met, and danced with, a gaggle of his old pals. One of them pawed her breasts, squeezed her mostly bare bottom, and invited her to join him in one of the upstairs bedrooms. She received similar invitations from one of Pug’s uncles and a cousin. She politely declined them all, but began to understand why Uncle Benedict thought that loyalty was merely a transitory abstraction.
Late in the evening, Pug led Petra into one of the anterooms and introduced her to a woman he identified as “Aunt Saffron,” even though she was not really a relation but, rather, an old and close friend of his mother. She was a tall, thin woman with exquisitely styled blond hair and narrow, aristocratic features that seemed vaguely familiar to Petra.
“You’re looking well, Palmer,” she said. “And from what I hear, it seems that you’ve done well in that…place. You’d do well anywhere, of course, but I still wish that you’d taken my advice.”
“Now, now, Aunt Saffron,” Pug soothed, “don’t get started. I know how you feel about Dexta, but I’ve made my decision and I have no regrets.”
“Everyone starts out with no regrets. They come with age and experience, and I’m confident that you’ll collect your share of them. I certainly have.” She looked toward Petra. “And you, Ms. Nash, no regrets either, I suppose?”
She snuggled a little closer to Pug and squeezed his hand. “Not tonight,” she said.
“I presume you’ll be going to Pelham together, then? Well, that’s all to the good. The farther away you get from Manhattan, the better off you’ll be.”
“We haven’t made up our minds yet,” Pug said. “I see that Uncle Benedict has already told the family about his offer.”
Saffron assayed a rather grim smile. “More the other way around, I think,” she said. “I gather that your mother discussed the matter with him.”
Pug nodded. “I figured as much,” he said. “I wish they’d just stay out of it and let me do things for myself.”
“A wise son follows his parents’ advice.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” said a ruddy-faced man who had suddenly appeared at Saffron’s side. He wrapped an arm aroun
d her and leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Every word of advice you ever gave me is engraved on my heart. ‘Stick around until the old man croaks,’ you said, ‘and all of this will be yours.’ So I did, and it is.”
“I never said any such thing.”
“You didn’t? I could have sworn that was you. Maybe it was Nanny, or the gardener. How’s it going, Pug?”
Pug extended an arm and shook hands with the man. “Good to see you, Whit. Petra, this is Saffron’s son, Whitney Bartholemew, Jr. Whit, say hello to Petra Nash.”
“Hello, Petra Nash,” he said, taking Petra’s hand and kissing it gently. There was alcohol on his breath, and from the way he swayed back and forth ever so slightly, it was apparent that he’d had a lot of it this evening. He looked to be in his forties, perhaps, and had black hair, a high forehead, and sharp, dark eyes.
“So,” Bartholemew said, “are all the women in Dexta as sexy and beautiful as you, or did Pug just get the pick of the litter?”
“Random drawing,” Petra explained.
“Ah, it was luck, then. Should have realized. The Ellisons have always been big on luck, you know. While we Bartholemews have always relied on our native cunning and rapacity, Mother’s side of the family, on the other hand, ran toward meticulous plotting and cruel calculation. So here I am, the offspring of buccaneers and bureaucrats. I’ve always pitied young Pugnacious, here, bound as he is by ten generations of stiff-necked rectitude. As a Bartholemew, I have a little more latitude to be a rebel, you see.”
“Some rebel,” Pug snorted. “He runs a dozen companies and never gets out from behind his desk.”
“Not true! I get around more than you think, my boy. I might just surprise you someday.” He spun slowly around and pointed toward the glittering throng. “Surprise all of these bastards, just see if I don’t.”
“Why don’t you surprise your mother, then,” Saffron said, “and see if you can get through this evening without making yet another scene?”
Bartholemew leaned close to Petra and said in a stage whisper, “My mum doesn’t trust me to behave myself.”
“Neither does mine,” Petra said with a conspiratorial smile.
“Ah! We are kindred spirits, then! Come away with me, Petra Nash, and help me make a scene.”
Before Petra could reply, Pug put his arm around her and pulled her away. “I saw her first,” he said. “Great to see you, Aunt Saffron. Take care, Whit.” Petra waved a weak farewell as Pug hustled her away.
“Whit’s a bit loaded, as usual,” Pug told her. “A good guy, but he has a tendency to get carried away. Since his father died a couple of years ago, Saffron has been trying to get him to grow up, finally.”
“She doesn’t appear to have succeeded.”
“Oh, Whit’s not so bad. He just hasn’t found himself yet. His family situation was…well, it was difficult.”
“I see,” said Petra. “What about his mother? What’s her story? I mean, what does she have against Dexta?”
“Everything,” Pug said.
“Come again?”
“Her full name, in case I didn’t mention it, is Saffron Mingus Bartholemew.”
“Mingus?” Petra’s eyes widened. “Not…?”
Pug nodded. “She is the daughter of Norman Mingus. And,” he added, “she hates him.”
GLORIA SETTLED INTO HER SUITE IN THE Imperial Cantabragian, the ritziest hotel on the planet, feeling drained from the boredom of her trip and the hassles of securing lodging. With the Quadrant Meeting about to begin, every hotel room in Central seemed to have been booked a year or more in advance. Gloria, with fame and money to spare, had been able to prevail upon the manager of the Cantabragian to find an appropriate suite, which required a difficult and diplomatically touchy reshuffling of various Dukes, Governors, and single-digit Dexta nabobs. Being who and what she was could be a strain at times, but it could also open doors—literally in this case—that would have remained closed to anyone else.
Elaine, who had a bedroom of her own in the suite, was off on a mission to the local Dexta offices to arrange for security. The impending Quadrant Meeting had taxed local resources to the limit, but, however reluctantly, IntSec would be forced to provide a round-the-clock contingent of Bugs to safeguard Gloria VanDeen. It wouldn’t be wise to let harm come to the most famous woman in the Empire on their home turf.
“I just got here,” Gloria said to herself, “and I’ve already inconvenienced scores of people. No wonder everybody hates me.” Well, not everybody—just the Quad Admins and everyone who valued their future at Dexta. Spirit, life was complicated!
It had become more complicated than necessary during the Flyer voyage to New Cambridge. After that first night, Gloria had explained to Elaine that she never had sex with anyone who worked for her at OSI, and that what had happened between them could never happen again. Rather than being disappointed by this news, Elaine had seemed, somehow, to be buoyed by it. She had scored with Gloria VanDeen, after all, and that made her unique within OSI.
It had been a stupid thing to do, Gloria readily conceded. Pleasant and satisfying, but stupid nonetheless. She knew Elaine would crow about her conquest, and that could cause problems with others, whom she had already turned down. She’d probably have to transfer Elaine and get her out of OSI, preferably off Earth. Punish the ambitious little tart for the crime of having had sex with the great and powerful Gloria VanDeen, Avatar of Joy.
Yet Elaine had done nothing that Gloria hadn’t done herself—sleeping with a powerful superior to secure her position and advancement at Dexta. The game never changed. Cornell DuBray from above and behind, Elaine Murakami from below; she had been well and truly fucked by both of them, and she could hardly claim that it had been done without her consent. Dexta was becoming indistinguishable from the null-rooms she frequented. She floated at the center of the swarm, seen, desired, and targeted by one and all.
If only Elaine hadn’t given her the Twenty-nine, maybe she would have been able to avoid what happened. But, after a moment of stunned hesitation, Gloria had sucked the lozenge into her mouth. Seconds later, she began to feel the rapturous intensity of the drug as Elaine industriously stoked her fires even higher. But the jigli had been her own idea. Why had she done that? At some level, had she welcomed and encouraged Elaine’s advance?
And why not? Why not keep Elaine around? What was so bad about having a small, sleek body at her beck and call, as a change from all those big, hairy ones? She knew that other successful Dexta Tigers often kept small-to-medium-sized harems of eager and devoted young men and women; why shouldn’t she? If she willingly shouldered the aching burden of responsibility, shouldn’t she take full advantage of the perks that came with the job?
“Gotta get a grip, girl,” she said aloud.
GLORIA WAS SO GLAD TO SEE PETRA THAT SHE gave her a big hug as she entered the suite. “Missed you, kiddo,” she said.
“Missed you too, Your Avatarness. Gloria, we’re going to need some of your star power if we’re ever going to get anything done on this planet.” Petra was looking more Tigerish than ever, Gloria noted, in a minimal miniskirt and sheer lime-green silk shirt, provocatively unbuttoned to her waist. And she had a bit of a glow about her, as if she were radiating energy in some forbidden wavelength.
“New Cambridge seems to have agreed with you, in spite of everything,” Gloria observed. Petra didn’t quite blush.
“Gloria, I swear I feel like one of those girls in the Greek myths who get swept off their feet by some handsome young god. Only this is the part where he brings her home to Olympus to meet the family and friends. They had this huge party, everyone dripping with money and ego…and Gloria!…I was the belle of the ball! I mean, really, I was! Because I was the mysterious woman in Pug Ellison’s life, you see. They were all looking at me, and I was looking right back at them, and you should have seen me! I looked so good, I looked like you, sort of. I mean, I was the most glamorous Petra Nash that ever was, and I loved every sec
ond of it! Spirit, Gloria, is that the way you feel all the time?”
Gloria couldn’t help laughing at her friend. She put her arm around Petra’s back and guided her to a sofa, where they sat down.
“I only feel that way some of the time, alas. And I’m happy for you that you got a chance to feel that way. Fun, isn’t it?”
“Gloria, you have no idea—I mean, wait a minute—you have an idea. But me! I’m just little ol’ Petra from Weehawken, and suddenly there I was, feeling like Eliza Doolittle at the ball. I was the absolute center of attention, and I swear, I handled it like a pro. I was witty and charming and sexy, and I didn’t spill a single drink or get caviar in my hair or step on any toes but Pug’s. And he didn’t mind.” Petra smiled.
“And where is the Pugnacious One?”
“Oh, he got shanghaied into some family thing today, but you were my excuse to avoid it.”
“Problems with the Ellisons?”
“Not really problems,” Petra said. “They’ve all been friendly and gracious and everything. But it gets a little overwhelming sometimes. I mean, you’re the only rich person I know, and you’re almost normal, most of the time. But the Ellisons! Gloria, every time I turn around, I bump into some servant determined to be helpful. Or see some mural or tapestry depicting the glorious heritage of the Ellisons. Yesterday, Pug’s mother asked me about my debut. My debut! At first, I didn’t even know what the hell she was talking about.”
“She probably doesn’t encounter many young women who haven’t had a debut,” Gloria suggested. “How’s the work going? You may recall, this was a business trip.”
Petra frowned. “Pug and I are being treated like lepers.”
“Get used to it,” Gloria told her. “We are now more or less at war with the Quad Admins, which means, effectively, the rest of Dexta.” Gloria brought Petra up-to-date on recent developments at Dexta HQ. She mentioned that she had dealt with the Manko problem but didn’t say how. Petra then treated Gloria to an account of her adventures with the New Cambridge office.
