Suns Eclipsed

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  She would also resent him raising the topic himself. For some reason, she did not want to openly talk about Bellona. Given how the Cheng-Huang Alignment could twist an innocent conversation, he could understand her reluctance to speak openly. A direct conversation would be loaded with leverage he could later use.

  Khalil sipped the tea. It was very good. Strong, yet not overpowering. High Moon tea was grown on the middle slopes of the mountains, where the air was too thick to breathe for long. The altitude was perfect for crops.

  He put the cup aside. “You have a lovely home, here, Minister.”

  “Thank you.” She dimpled. “This house has been in my family for five generations. The front slope wing was the first to be built, of course. During the Hu-Xiang war, my grandfather carved out the second terrace, which doubled the footprint, It was a good thing, too, for most of his family on Hu came over to High Moon after the war. There are four generations of us living here right now.”

  Khalil nodded. “High Moon is a delightful place. It soothes the soul and encourages peace.”

  He held still, wondering if she would spot his cue.

  “Peace is a much underrated value,” she said replied. “Most strangers who come to High Moon do not appreciate the quality. You are wise beyond your years, Khalil.”

  Then she was willing to talk indirectly. Encouraged, Khalil gave a small shrug. “You flatter me, Maddie. I am not nearly as wise as you. I am smart enough to know, however, that peace is a much-sought-after commodity across the known worlds.”

  “True,” she agreed. “Wars have been fought to acquire it, which is ironic, is it not?”

  “It is a pity that those who seek it do not know they can find it here,” Khalil said carefully.

  Something flashed in her eyes and was gone too fast for Khalil to analyze it. He had prodded her. He wasn’t sure how.

  “Perhaps,” Maddie said casually, sipping her tea once more, “they are looking in the wrong place. Tall cities and open seas with their storms and unrest…they do not naturally encourage peace.”

  Tall cities. Vertical cities. She was speaking about Cerce!

  Khalil fought the impulse to revert to plain speaking. Maddie would not forgive him for such rudeness. “The search for peace is a learning process,” he pointed out. “One cannot recognize when one has found it, unless they have sampled the lack of it elsewhere first.”

  There. That would address Maddie’s slighted feelings because Bellona had dared to speak to Alberda before speaking to her. It also dealt with Bellona’s original sin of being born a warring Eriuman.

  Maddie looked thoughtful. “With everything you say, you prove your wisdom, Khalil. Turmoil and strife are strong motivations to find peace. I wonder if they would condition the seeker, just as the peace here encourages us to gentler outlooks?”

  Khalil sighed. She was questioning Bellona’s history. She doubted her motives. It was a universal doubt, it seemed. No one believed an Eriuman who had fought for the Karassians for ten years could possibly want peace for the free worlds and was willing to fight for them and with them to get it. No one believed a woman with Bellona’s history could possibly change her loyalties like that.

  “And now you are back to looking tired once more,” Maddie said. “This will not do, Khalil Ready. I would not say farewell when your state is poorer than when you arrived.”

  “I must leave soon, though,” Khalil said. “The hunt goes on,” he added.

  “Have dinner with my family tonight,” she insisted. “A good, solid meal in front of you, some excellent company and we will send you on your way with a peaceful heart.”

  Khalil studied her. A solid meal? In front of him?

  Then he understood. The Alignment wanted proof. Solid, tangible proof that Bellona’s change of allegiances was genuine, that her cause and her ability to fight for it were real.

  That put the Alignment right in the same corner as the rest of the free states.

  “That sounds wonderful, thank you, Maddie,” Khalil lied.

  * * * * *

  Eriuman Republic Ship Ennius, Revati System.

  “I do appreciate your invitation, Admiral Eucleides,” Iulia said, looking around the captain’s quarters of the Ennius. “I admit that this is my first time on a cruiser. I am shocked by how much room they have. I was under the impression that ships were cramped and crowded.”

  “A frigate, perhaps,” Lucretia Eucleides Dejulia de Criselda said, leaning back against the comfortable sofa and spreading her arms along the back, which had the effect of making the buttons and gilt on her uniform lift and spread. “A convoyer, most certainly. They are the runabouts of the navy. However, enough room for everything we must carry is what defines a cruiser.”

  Iulia sipped the wine. It was a poor quality compared to the wine in the cellars of the Cardenas homebase. She avoided grimacing and put the glass down on the low table beside the sofa she was sitting on. “I should come to the point,” she said. The information she had uncovered about the admiral hinted that she did not like having her time wasted.

  “Then you didn’t wrangle my invitation merely to gawk at a big ship?” Lucretia asked.

  “You’re too busy for nonsense like that.”

  “Curiouser and curiouser.”

  “I would ask why it is that we’ve never met before,” Iulia said. “Yet you are a Dejulii and military, too. There have been few occasions where our paths might cross. I confess I wanted to meet the most powerful woman in the Eriuman navy.”

  Lucretia Eucleides didn’t move, or give any reaction. Her face remained placid. She was a handsome woman in her seventh decade and she had spent her life battling her way up through the ranks. There were fewer than two hundred women in the Eriuman Navy, even though regulations did not prevent them from joining. Eucleides had paid the price for her career, though. She had no partner and no family left on the Dejulian worlds, and a career that was waning.

  Iulia did not underestimate her. To have flourished in a fraternity as strong as this one took skill, diplomacy and ruthlessness. That was why Iulia had picked her out.

  Lucretia finally responded to Iulia’s bare-faced compliment. “Is there something you want from me, Iulia Cardenas Scordina de Carosa?”

  “I want only for us to be friends.”

  “I see.” Eucleides’ tone was flat.

  Iulia gave the admiral her best warm smile. “You may have heard that there is some…movement at the head of my clan’s table, lately.”

  “I did hear that,” Eucleides said. “I also heard that the current head of the clan, that Peru boy, may not be as docile as you would prefer.” She smiled.

  “You keep tabs on clan politics,” Iulia said. “Good. That will save time.” She picked up her glass and sipped again, to give her time to regather her thoughts. Eucleides was more informed than she had suspected a military leader had a right to be. She should have been braced for this possibility. “I have no influence over Peru, although I don’t believe he will remain in the top chair for very long, so my lack of leverage is not an issue. The other contenders, those closest to the chair, are all contained.”

  “Contained?” Eucleides repeated, her tone one of curiosity.

  “They will vote the way I suggest, when the time comes,” Iulia said impatiently.

  “Ah.” Eucleides’ smile was enigmatic. “And now you set your sights upon the military?”

  “It is no secret that the generals and admirals in favor with the clans get bigger budgets and larger ships, more power, more recognition and more fame.”

  “You offer me more power?” Eucleides asked. “I, the most powerful woman in the Navy?” She didn’t smile, yet Iulia knew she was laughing at her.

  “The most powerful woman yes. Just not the most powerful admiral,” Iulia said flatly.

  Eucleides smile faded. “Perhaps I am content with my station.”

  “If you were, you would have retired five years ago.” Iulia took a breath for courage. “You ha
te that the other admirals have held you back, that no clan acknowledges you as their point man. It makes you writhe every time one of the other, weaker admirals gets a pat on back.”

  In fact, she was guessing that this was so. Iulia had read Eucleides’ biographical profiles carefully. No clan had adopted her, not even her own. The lines between the clans and the military were not direct—the most powerful admirals attracted the support of the most powerful clans. The Admiral General of the Navy had been a Scordini pet for decades and he was of the lowly Jaleesa clan.

  There was a chance Eucleides would deny Iulia’s assertions and Iulia waited for her response with a degree of trepidation that was leavened with the knowledge that if this moment back-fired, there were many captains and rear admirals that might be more eager to add another stripe to their sleeve.

  “You would have your clan’s assembly support me?” Eucleides asked, her voice distant, as if she was thinking very hard.

  “They support Admiral General Haisey,” Iulia replied. “That could change, depending on who sits in the chair.”

  “You want me to help you move your pet into the top chair?”

  “No,” Iulia said flatly. “This is not a trading of favors, Lucretia. This will be a working partnership. There are things I want, that the Navy can provide, that you can provide, if you are in a position to do so. I can put you in that position.”

  “You want me to challenge Haisey.” Eucleides shook her head. Iulia didn’t know if she was expressing disbelief or admiration.

  “As a means to an end,” Iulia corrected. “Clan squabbles will be beneath both of us when this is all over.”

  For a long moment, Eucleides sat still, thinking it through. Iulia remained silent, giving her the time she needed.

  “I’d heard you were ambitious,” Eucleides said at last.

  “Then you have underestimated me, if that is the extent of your evaluation,” Iulia replied.

  Eucleides grinned. It was a quick, sudden expression, as if she was smiling despite herself. Her smile faded just as quickly. “I heard that you were ambitious and that you only came to that ambition recently, because of your daughter’s actions and your husband’s passing. You have my sympathy.”

  Iulia shook her head. “Is that what they say about me?” She let her amusement show this time. “Truly, the men of our worlds know so little of what we are truly capable. My ambitions have only come to light because Reynard was no longer there as my point man. Now I cannot be as circumspect as I once was.”

  “And your daughter’s rebellion and her current activities in free space had no influence upon your agenda?” Eucleides asked curiously.

  “What are her current activities?” Iulia asked. “The public feeds are not forthcoming.”

  “That is because she has fallen off the map.” Eucleides shrugged. “The girl was a bur in our sides for months. Haisey thinks she has been killed in some bar scrap and we can concentrate on the Karassians once more.”

  “You don’t believe that, do you?”

  “Bellona Cardenas is Reynard’s daughter…and yours. I no further believe she got herself killed in a bar fight than you do. Her disappearance, in that case, is a matter of concern. It means she has found a sanctuary we do not know the location of and even now is shoring up her defenses.”

  “You think she will be back.”

  “I do.” Eucleides studied her. “You want to pay Bellona back for the ruin of your family, yes?”

  “Would you blame me if I did?” Iulia asked.

  “I would only question whether you have the stomach for what must be done, if that is your aim.” Eucleides got to her feet and brushed out the purple uniform. The gilt glittered as she moved over to the low table and picked up the wine that Iulia had been drinking. She drained the glass in two large swallows and put it down again.

  Iulia’s heart skittered. Now they had come to the crux of it and she recognized the moment.

  Eucleides looked down at her. “So…Iulia of the Scordinii. Do you have the fortitude that is needed?”

  Iulia got to her feet, facing the Admiral. “You won’t be disappointed,” she said and kissed her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kachmarain City, Kachmar Sodality, The Karassian Homogeny

  Chidi would never tell a single soul, ever, about his sunset secret.

  Karassia loved him. His life was an open book. The lens surrounded him day in and day out, as nearly a billion fans hung on to his every word, accepting whatever he said without question.

  He could bring down governments, if he put his mind to it.

  The adoration was addictive. The attention was the reward for the years he had fought to become as known as he was, for his feeds to grow into the massive entertainment industry they now were.

  He was set for life. Money. Fame. Millions of Karassians aspired to have his life.

  That was why no one would ever find out that at sunset every day, he escaped the lens for a brief hour, while pre-made footage ran to hide the gap in his life. That single hour spent alone, in the still silence of an apartment empty of people, was the most precious part of his day. He sometimes yearned for that time to come. The lens and the attention built up a pressure that was like an itchy coat against his skin, driving him mad, until all he wanted to do was tear it off and stomp on it, smear it into the ground until it was beyond paste.

  His sunset hour stopped him from doing that. It was his secret, that no fan, no employees, could ever be allowed to learn.

  With the fuss over the Xenia clips pushing his feeds to the top of every list, life had become a blur. Merchandise deals, drugs, sex, clothes, money and yet more money rained down upon him daily. Surya had been replaced by Pepper, who had been replaced by Marie and Marty, Abel and Hans, sometimes all at once. The more the sensational highs piled up the bigger his feeds became. Everyone loved watching his success and poured more of it on him. It was a crazy roundabout.

  Chidi unsealed the apartment door and looked over his shoulder. The check was automatic. He had long ago worked out how to duck out of sight and escape back to his apartment to greet the sunset from the big picture window covering the width of it. No one was following him.

  He pushed the door open, stepped inside and shut it with a sigh of relief. With his back against the door, he worked at the edge of the mask until he got a fingernail under it, then tore it off and dropped it to the floor. The wig and the stained clothes followed.

  Naked, he padded through to the big front room, where the picture window was waiting for him.

  A man was sitting in his favorite chair. A man in a brown military uniform.

  Chidi came to a halt. He could think of nothing to say. There were no words that would encompass his shock at finding someone sitting in his apartment, clearly waiting for him to arrive at this hour.

  “We know all about your life, you see,” came another voice. A second voice.

  Chidi whirled, his bare feet squeaking on the cool tiles.

  The second man was in the square armchair by the picture window, ruining the view. The setting sun was behind him, dazzling Chidi and making the man a mere silhouette.

  “Who are you?” Chidi demanded. His voice came out high and weak. Thankfully, there were no lenses on him right now. He pushed his hand against his chest. His heart was hurling itself against his ribcage. It had been a long time since he had been this scared.

  The man stayed where he was. “You can call me Woodrow,” he said conversationally.

  The military man came up alongside Chidi and held out the dirty coat he had used to get home. “Here,” he said shortly.

  Chidi didn’t take the coat. “You don’t know me as well as you say you do, if you think I’m going to cover up to make you feel more comfortable. My fans know and love me, just like this.” He got messages praising his sexual prowess and the size of his genitals. Oh yes, they adored every aspect of his life.

  “Your fans are not watching you right now, though, are they?” Wo
odrow said. His jerked his head at the officer.

  The uniform turned away, taking the coat with him.

  Chidi swallowed, aware at last that no one was watching. He had worked to make sure of that, every day at this time. He had worked just as hard to keep it a complete secret. Now, with no lens trained on him, the protection the public gaze extended him was gone. “What do you want?” he demanded, pushing as much power into his voice as he could. It emerged with strength—not a lot, although he no longer sounded as if he was about to cry. Good. He lifted his chin. “I’m waiting,” he added.

  Woodrow didn’t move. It was creepy the way he just sat there. It bothered Chidi that he couldn’t see his face or any details about him.

  “You’ve been telling a lot of people that the Xenia videos are forgeries,” Woodrow said.

  “They are fake,” Chidi said stoutly. He had argued this line of reasoning so often that he had come to believe it. “They didn’t turn up for a whole year after Shavistran was supposed to have been destroyed. It took them that long to make the digital images. I mean, look at the woman who was supposed to have been Xenia. She doesn’t even look like her.”

  “It’s interesting that you should think so,” Woodrow said smoothly. “Your opinion carries a lot of influence on Karassian worlds and we have taken note of that.”

  Chidi swallowed again. Woodrow’s quiet lack of emphasis, the neutral blandness, was making him nervous. People always got excited around Chidi. They shouted. They cheered. Sometimes they raged. They were never emotionless.

  “The woman who claims she is Xenia has been putting out her own footage,” Woodrow continued. “Have you seen it?”

  “A blonde wig and white paint doesn’t make her Xenia,” Chidi countered automatically. He had said that exact phrase hundreds of times in the last few weeks, whenever someone mentioned the Xenia feeds. “Some of the latest videos are created, not taken. It shows. They’re rank amateurs.”

  Woodrow got to his feet. The sun was setting right behind him, blazing white hot and blue against the polarized windows, hiding every detail about the man. “The average Karassian doesn’t have your degree of experience with feeds,” he said. “They might believe that the digital manipulations are the real thing.”