Star's End

by Cassandra Rose Clarke

  “I don’t take these concerns lightly,” Esme said. “This plan has been building for the last five years.”

  Mina raised an eyebrow at that, just as a figure appeared on the horizon: it was Serena rushing down the stone path, her hair billowing out behind her. She raised a hand in greeting and called out, her voice rising and dipping with the wind, “Sorry I’m late!”

  Mina scowled, briefly, wiping the expression from her face before Serena was close enough to see.

  “Hello, hello.” She spoke with a harried breathlessness. “Have you ordered yet?”

  “Just drinks,” Mina said. “Rosemary infusions. They should be here soon.”

  “Rosemary infusions! A classic.” Serena turned to Esme, and a beat later, she straightened her spine, as if just remembering that Esme was CEO. “Hello, Esme. I hope you’re doing well. Congratulations, by the way.”

  Esme smiled. “Thanks for meeting with us.”

  “I have some ideas,” Serena said, settling into her chair. “About the rollout. We’ll need to counteract the rumors, of course; people are already talking and there is a fear that the, ah, decision will run the company into the ground.”

  “As I was telling Mina,” Esme said, “I’ve been developing a plan for a while now.”

  The waiter crested the horizon, bringing their drinks. Esme watched him approach, a dark shadow against the vivid green backdrop of the surrounding countryside. The wind picked up, but it didn’t feel as cold as it had earlier. Maybe she was getting used to it. Maybe talking business just made her warmer.

  “Your infusions,” the waiter said, setting them down one by one on the table. Esme could smell the liquor and the rosemary, a pungent combination that made her head spin. “Would you like to order your meals in person or via the holo?”

  “The holo is fine. Thank you.” Esme was expected to answer for everyone now that she was CEO. She picked up her infusion and took a drink, barely tasting it.

  When the waiter had gone, Mina said, “You have a plan.”

  “Yes.” Esme set her drink down on the table. The wind ruffled the tablecloth. The air had a dampness to it from the lake. “This is level Ninety-Nine information.”

  Serena’s eyes went wide, but Mina was unfazed.

  “My father, before he retired, was working on a cure for death.” She paused. “Immortality.”

  Mina snorted. “You can’t be serious.”

  Esme glared at her, squaring off her shoulders. She was still CEO. “Let me finish,” she said icily.

  Mina leaned back, pushed aside a few wayward strands of her hair.

  “Immortality is nonsense,” Esme said. “Even if we could achieve it, there are questions about how it would affect corpocracy, as well as the obvious ethical concerns.” That was a statement she doubted her father had ever said. Ethical concerns. But she was a new CEO, and this was a new company. “But I volunteered to spearhead the research because it could aid tremendously in curing diseases—diseases like galazamia, which I’m sure both of you know is the reason my father has retired.”

  Mina blinked in surprise; she wouldn’t have expected that, would she, an admittance of weakness. Serena tilted her head, listening. Already thinking of how to spin this, no doubt. The storylines they could use on the dramas. Esme wondered, just for a flash of a second, if Isabel still watched them.

  “I hired scientists who understand our real purpose. For the last five years, they’ve been surreptitiously running tests on new medical treatments, under the guises of chasing after immortality. That means we have a five-year head start on new approaches to medicine.” Esme paused. “All weapons manufacture will be converted to the production of these new approaches. It may be shaky to start, and we’ll have to work around that. But it isn’t necessary for us to sell weapons and exploit people in order to maintain our corpocracy.”

  “What about the soldiers?” Mina said. “The R-Troops? The entire basis of our economy?”

  “They are not the entire basis of our economy.” Esme felt a flare of anger. “They will be granted citizenship and given the freedom to choose how they will serve the Coromina Group. I imagine most will stay as soldiers. Others will find other work.”

  Mina laughed. “This is outlandish, Esme. This will never work.”

  Esme sat in the cold, trying to formulate a response. But she didn’t have to. Serena spoke up first.

  “Anything can work,” she said. “With the right spin. Remember when the existence of the Radiance was leaked? We thought there would be panic in the streets. But a few choice dramas, a bit of subliminal messaging, and people dismissed the rumors as nonsense.” She shrugged. “We can shape the people’s perception however we see fit.”

  Esme studied Mina, trying to see if she was convinced. Her expression wasn’t quite as hard as it had been before—a good sign. It wasn’t going to be easy, shifting the entire focus of the company. But at least here was a start.

  “We should order,” Esme said. “And finish our discussion over food.”

  Serena nodded, but she was on Esme’s side in this. Mina sat for a moment, and Esme’s irritation coiled up inside of her. The cold wind from the lake was bad enough—were they really going to fight it out over food, too? But then Mina tucked her hair behind her ear. “I think that would be a good idea,” she said, and activated the holo.

  The meeting continued. It grew easier the further they went into it. Esme laid out her plans and ideas, Serena chimed in, Mina listened. By the time the waiter brought their mugs of steaming coffee and a trio of tiny chocolate cakes, Esme felt assured that she had secured Amanan support. Granted, she would still need to meet with the Amanan officials, particularly the mayors of the affected cities, but that was a courtesy more than anything else. They weren’t the ones with the real power. She also would have to deal with the three remaining worlds, and Ekkeko would be the hardest to convince. But she had a start. Her position as CEO was a little less precarious than it had been before lunch.

  After the meeting, Esme wandered down to the shore of the lake. She was alone; Serena and Mina had left together, chattering about new alliances between the immersion team and the former department of weapons manufacture. Esme told them she wanted to admire the lake, but really, she wanted to think: not about the new path of the company but about her sisters. About Adrienne.

  The lake glittered in the sunlight, a cold sparkle that reminded Esme of diamonds. She slipped off her shoes and walked barefoot across the cold sand, down to the water’s edge. It wasn’t exactly the village beach, where she had spent so much time growing up. Up close, the water was murky, choked with slimy plants, and the wind whipped sharp and freezing across her face. But it was close.

  Esme stared out at the expanse of water. She just needed to get Adrienne to agree to see her one more time. The new decision about weapons manufacture hadn’t been officially announced yet, and Adrienne didn’t work for the Coromina Group, not anymore. She wouldn’t know. Esme should have thought of it when she went to Adrienne’s house the first time, should have spat it out as soon as she saw that beautiful, elegant woman who had once been her sister. But she’d been too stunned by the changes and too guilty about Isabel. She was still guilty. That would never go away. But she was going to make it better.

  Esme waded into the water. It was so cold she gasped, but she didn’t move away, just let the icy lake burn at her ankles.

  • • •

  This time, Esme wasn’t nervous. She understood now that her anxiety two days ago had come from not knowing what she was going to say. She’d been space-lagged, her thoughts soft. But now she had her approach.

  The door to Winslow Place swung open. It was the Tarczan woman again, this time dressed all in black.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Coromina,” she said. “But Mrs. Lanka gave me strict orders—”

  “Tell her she was right,” Esme said. “She was right about everything. I’m not here to convince her to come home. I only want to apologize. To make am
ends.”

  The woman hesitated. Esme’s chest tightened. But then the woman said, “Wait here.”

  She did not invite Esme into the foyer. The door slammed shut. Esme sighed. She could feel the driver staring at her, but she didn’t turn around to acknowledge him. It was a different driver from yesterday, younger, handsome, with a sly air about him. She would have had a crush on him when she was a teenager. But she wasn’t a teenager anymore.

  Time passed. Esme didn’t bother to check her lightbox, and so she had no concept of how much time it was. Long enough that the driver pulled out a lightbox of his own and played through what looked like a newsfeed, faces and headlines flashing one after another.

  The door opened.

  Esme turned around. If the woman said no, she would have to push her way inside, demand to see Adrienne. She was family and she was CEO. She had the right.

  But it wasn’t the woman at the door. It was Adrienne.

  She was dressed this time, properly, in a russet silk dress, the back cut in a V. Esme was vaguely aware of it as a fashionable style, at least on Amana. Adrienne’s hair was curled and set in a pile on the left side of her head, another fashionable style. She looked sleek, and modern, and adult.

  “I told you I wouldn’t let you in my home,” she said.

  “And you don’t have to.” Esme smiled. “We can speak out here.”

  “We won’t speak at all.” She moved back into the glimmer of the house.

  Esme stuck her hand out and grabbed the door. “I came to apologize. You were right. About everything. To run away like you did, and block your records. I—please, just let me talk to you. Ten minutes.”

  Adrienne’s face was dark and guarded, but she didn’t close the door, only leaned up against the frame. She seemed tired, and for a moment, Esme caught a glimpse of the Adrienne she used to know, the teenage Adrienne, sleepy at dinner after an evening with her internship.

  Esme’s heartbeat quickened. If Adrienne said no, she’d have to come up with another way in, spend another several days in that house in the enclave.

  “Fine,” Adrienne said. “Ten minutes. But we’ll talk in the garden.” Adrienne pointed to the left. “That way. The path will lead us around.” She stepped onto the porch and slid the door shut behind her. When Esme turned around, she saw the driver staring steadfastly at his holo. She wondered if he was engineered to hear. Some of the drivers were, to help the company better learn the secrets of their employee-citizens. Maybe she would change that, too.

  Adrienne breezed past Esme. She was barefoot despite the chill on the air, and it was an odd combination, her bare feet and stylish dress. Esme followed her. She practiced what she would say in her head, the way she did with any potential transfer citizen.

  The garden was tucked away behind a metal gate, the trellis overhead filled with drying vines. Adrienne’s garden was dying for the winter.

  “Did it take long to get used to?” Esme said. “Four seasons instead of two?”

  Adrienne glanced over her shoulder. “No,” she said.

  They sat in chairs on a veranda arranged between a pair of dark, thorny bushes. Those bushes probably became roses in the summer. Adrienne crossed her legs and set her hands on the armrests.

  “Ten minutes,” she said.

  “I kept thinking about what you told me,” Esme said, in her clear businesswoman’s voice. “That you thought I should have apologized. And you were right, completely right. I shouldn’t have let Father use Isabel the way he did. I know I told you this already, and I understand that it really doesn’t matter, but I didn’t know.”

  Adrienne looked away, out at the garden rustling in the wind.

  “I didn’t know, and when I found out, I was as disgusted as you. But—”

  “But you didn’t do anything about it. You went along with it.” Adrienne turned to back to Esme, her eyes burning. “Of the three of us, you were the one who could have done something. You could have stopped production, you could have quit the company—hell, you could have refused to participate in that goddamned cover-up you two were so proud of! That would have sent more of a message than me running off to Amana. Do you honestly not understand that?”

  “I do.” Esme took a deep breath. Adrienne’s chest rose and fell. Esme would have to tread carefully now, if this plan was to work. “I was scared. Not like you. And you know what? I admire you for it. I do. And I did, at the time. I remember when Alicia showed me the holo—she showed me and Father at the same time, in his office. I’ll never forget what you said.” Esme paused. The sunlight caught in Adrienne’s hair and gleamed. Adrienne’s face was a mask. “I can’t ever look you in the face again. Either of you.” Esme leaned back. “It hurt me, it did. Because I understood why. I could hardly look myself in the face either.”

  Adrienne was silent for a moment, her face unreadable. Esme was breathless. She hadn’t lied. It had hurt, watching that holo of Adrienne staring at her across the chasm of space, condemning her in a recorded voice. It had almost been a physical pain.

  “I’m not going to see him,” Adrienne said. “I don’t care if he’s dying. He should have died two hundred years ago, during the Triad Sector Wars. Men like that shouldn’t exist.”

  Esme didn’t point out the obvious: that if their father had died during the Triad Sector Wars, none of them would exist. Not Esme, not Adrienne, not Daphne. Not Isabel.

  “I understand,” Esme said.

  “Do you?” Adrienne said sharply.

  Esme hesitated. “Not completely,” she finally answered. “I’m trying to understand. And I realized I couldn’t do that without apologizing.” She swept her gaze around the garden. It was unsettling to her, the way the plants here curled up on themselves in the winter, instead of blooming all year round. “I have something else to tell you, too.”

  Adrienne stared at her. “What, that you’re CEO now? I heard.”

  “Not just that, no.”

  Adrienne tilted her head to the side—Esme had surprised her. She recognized that look, that quick flash of curiosity, which was just as quickly subsumed by Adrienne’s mask of indifference.

  “It hasn’t been officially announced yet,” Esme said. “Rumors are already starting to fly around, of course, but that’s always how it is.”

  “What are you talking about?” Adrienne said. Her voice was low and dangerous.

  “I’m shutting down weapons manufacture,” Esme said. “I’m changing the focus of the company.”

  Adrienne’s mouth dropped open. But then she shook her head, her eyes closed. “To what?” she said. “What could you possibly—”

  “Medicine, to begin with,” Esme said. “Dad’s been working on immortality treatments—”

  Adrienne rolled her eyes.

  “I know; it’s absurd. But the research can do some good in stopping certain incurable diseases.” She looked Adrienne in the eye. “I’m also granting the R-Troops, and all engineered soldiers, full citizenship.”

  Adrienne didn’t say anything for a long moment. The cold wind tousled a loose curl of her hair. Esme studied her, tried to see what she was thinking.

  But then Adrienne let out a laugh, sharp and cruel.

  “Medicine,” she said, shaking her head. “And I’m sure you’ll charge good money for these miracle cures of yours, won’t you? Make sure only the wealthiest systems can afford it?”

  Esme thought back to Adrienne’s files, to all the anti-corpocracy radicalism in her history. She would see it that way, wouldn’t she? Adrienne, who had trusted in the company so thoroughly when they were younger. She had seen the benefit of this system before.

  “I don’t want to exploit people,” Esme said carefully. “We’re in our earliest planning stages. But I will always find a way to work within corpocracy. I’m not a radical like you.”

  Adrienne smiled. “I’m not a radical. If I were a radical, you think I would be living in this house?”

  Esme sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to m
ake this work, okay? I’m not going to be like Dad.”

  Adrienne regarded her with dark eyes. Esme sat very still, as if she were being scanned.

  But then Adrienne uncrossed her legs and stood up. “Thank you for apologizing,” she said. “Although you really ought to apologize to Isabel and not me.”

  Esme stood up too. She had promised she would only stay for ten minutes, and surely those ten minutes had passed by now. She didn’t know if she was successful. But perhaps she’d at least planted the idea in Adrienne’s mind.

  “I don’t know where Isabel is,” Esme said. “But if I ever find her, you know I will.”

  Adrienne was an extension of the garden, a statue positioned on the veranda.

  “I should go,” Esme said. “I said I would only take up ten minutes of your time.” She stepped down onto the path. Adrienne stayed standing on the veranda, one hand at the base of her throat, her fingers moving back and forth across her décolleté.

  Esme walked back toward the front of the house.

  “Goodbye, Esme,” Adrienne said.

  Esme stopped, glanced over her shoulder at her. Adrienne had lifted one hand in a wave. Esme returned the gesture.

  As she walked down to the car, she realized she didn’t care if Adrienne came home or not. She was just grateful she’d had the chance to apologize.

  • • •

  The next morning, Esme woke to the sun streaming white and golden through the windows, the alarm chiming her out of a half-sleep. She had decided, after meeting with Adrienne, to stay one more day in Santos. Serena hoped to discuss the official announcement about dropping weapons manufacture as a company focus, and Esme wasn’t sure she wanted to face the board in person again. Not yet.

  Esme lay in bed for a few moments, readjusting to the daytime. Then she showered and dressed and put on her makeup. Brewed some coffee and stood drinking it by the back window so she could look out at her garden.