by Ken Wolfson
"I love it," Adrian said. He sipped, and his tongue caught fire. Alastor grinned his approval.
"So, how's the carrier holding up?" Letty said.
"Supercarrier," Adrian corrected her.
"Lady V's fine; she's getting some repairs done in orbit but she'll be rearing to go and angry by the time the blues arrive," Amelie said. She took a long drink from her glass. "Emoche should have waited a day for her to be decommissioned so he wouldn't have to fight her."
"Oh yes indeed. I'd think, given you already survived him once, he'd make you a priority target," Alastor said.
"He did. It didn't work," Adrian said.
"First a battlecruiser bombarded us in drydock. We killed it. Then Lady Tarly Artreyas came after us with a carrier group," Amelie said. Bowls of steaming mushroom stew were placed about. In the colder regions, where the old tribes had lived in caves, mushrooms were a staple. Adrian didn't like them, but in a soup laden with spices and other vegetables, he could tolerate them.
"Lord Artreyas the Elder was a business partner of mine, as was his brother. Tarly has none of his wisdom. Adrian, you did us all a favor when you cut her ambition at the knees in that duel," Alastor said.
"Shame she took it personally," Adrian said. "I should have finished her then."
"She asked for mercy; there was nothing you could do," Alastor said.
"I could have made it an accident. That might fly in the courts."
Alastor stopped eating.
"Killing a noble is dishonorable like that."
"Might be worth it, I wouldn’t have had to deal with her for the past ten years.”
"I think Adrian's distracted by a certain other, much sweeter young lady," Letty said, in a transparent attempt to change topic. She took his hand. "I'm sure little Aly's out there on Vervunder, and we'll find her."
"So no updates then?" His glass was refilled.
"The Irate Gentleman has arrived safely in Vervunder. The don't know where she docked and the system is even more a mess than the Fleet left it, but my people are still on the ground searching," Alastor said. He finished his own glass and held out his cup for a refill. "I remember her as a smart young girl; gobbled up all my history lessons about Volantis faster than my own daughters did. Like Letty said, she'll be fine."
Adrian nodded and faked a smile. He opened and closed his left hand, imagining it closing around Alyssa's and dragging her under the slamming bulkhead. So damn close.
"I never said thank you for going through all that to save her—spending a ton of money and probably putting your reputation on the line," he said.
"Think nothing of it. Family is family," Alastor said. Adrian's heart leapt; was he implying approval?
"What's happened, besides Vervunder? We need glorious details of your survival at Tollyon. Someday we might commission a work on it," Letty said. Amelie lit up with delight at the suggestion. Adrian smiled at the chance to impress.
The next hour involved their retelling everything from their victory at Vykhor until their arrival at Vervunder. Adrian contributed when called upon, but Amelie was the main show. As she spoke he finished the thick soup and got himself a glass of water. Eventually the soup was cleared away, and their story petered off with Tarly's appearance on Vervunder.
"It’s been a long journe,” she said.
"A classic adventure of survival; you've done incredibly well for the cards you have been dealt.” Alastor said. He clasped Amelie's hands in his, and drew a heart with his thumbs.
"We've been dealt some shitty cards," Amelie said.
"I know, but I always say to focus on using the cards you have in the game, not the ones you want. There's always a solution," he said. "And again, you've done very well."
"There's no such thing as no-win scenarios," Adrian added. Alastor smiled and nodded at him.
"We've received a good card," Amelie said. "The Lord Governor has asked us for an alliance."
"He's already got our hands; what could he need yours for?" Letty said. The white ball of Volantis primary sunk beneath the horizon. The sky dimmed and one by one the stars winked into existence. The sky glowed black and white as the white sun's light faded.
"He wants contacts in the fleet, and his opponents bought up all the good ones," Adrian said.
"We trust him just enough to accept his offer. He's an ally of convenience, not a friend," Amelie said.
"Good; I don't trust him either. A man who bends to the will of the people like he has is as fickle as mob mentality. And while Johnathan's done a good job economically, he has forsaken the military. I told him the Burn's net income was great enough to afford the military budget increases Senator Ila's faction was proposing. He chose to spite her and pushed through a different budget without the increase," Alastor said. He shook his head with a sigh. "We could've used the extra warships now."
"Yes, we could've. Does he have any reason for opposing the fleet?" Adrian said.
“He wants to pay for social programs. This is why my position is permanent, to put me above such popularity worries," Alastor said.
"He couldn't have expected the Hullen, not even we did," Letty said, and took her husband's shoulder.
"Fat lot that does now. History will remember his failure, if we even have a history when the mad prophet rolls through," Alastor said.
"But look at the welfare he's done for the people. Unemployment's down, and if he's against the military, why is he spending on the expanded veterans' benefits and funding those new hospitals?" Amelie said. "I think he’s an honest and good man who made a good decision at the wrong time."
Alastor and Amelie began a debate about the benefits of welfare. Letty raised her eyebrows at Adrian. He mimed falling asleep and she smiled knowingly. So this was what it was like to talk about world affairs from the room where it happened. To move the continents with a great hand, instead of moving on them.
"Where are the reinforcements from the other ten regions?" he finally said. The conversation jarred to a halt, and redirected.
"Delayed by a mass of internal revolts. The Blues gain strength all over," Alastor said. He downed his second drink, and held out a hand for a third. Letty pushed his arm down, and directed the servants to bring water, and the main course. Adrian's stomach rumbled. He tuned out the next few minutes of chatter as they discussed politics and fleet tactics. The sun dipped below the horizon entirely, and darkness fell. One of Volantis' moons hung low in the sky, a reddish ball of light amongst a grid of lights from the extensive orbital infrastructure.
His wrist comp dinged. He opened the message.
COS, Mgr. Elliot Cage.
Customs officials here demanding an inspection, threatening to put the repairs on hold until they're permitted entry.
He showed it to Amelie, who scowled.
"I was under the impression the Lord Governor could take care of that," she said.
"Or us; you called out to me, too," Alastor said. "Still, a Lord Governor's seal should be definite. Either someone is fucking with you, or the bureaucracy has suffered so much that we can't grant favors to those who deserve them."
"We need to deal with this in person. I'll go," Adrian said and stood with a groan from his knees. Amelie leapt up so her chair rattled and pushed him back into his seat.
"You've done enough work, love. I'll handle this and be back before dinner's cold." She kissed him."Take care of Adrian for me. He likes to get himself into trouble."
"Oh, we'll keep the boy safe," Alastor said with a wink. Adrian was targeted by two dreadnoughts. Amelie was led out by a servant, leaving the three of them.
"Adrian, there's something I wanted to talk to you about," Alastor said. There was no anger in his tone, or in his face. He only displayed the same careful wisdom of a father, like he himself would if and when Alyssa brought her first love home. "I think you know what it is, and I'll let you talk first, one father to another."
Adrian closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths, to calm himself. "I want to m
arry your daughter. Four years I've been by Amelie's side, and I could do this for eternity. We're different people, but we fit together into one unstoppable team perfectly. And she loves Alyssa, which is the most important thing. Aly was wearing silver eye-liner the last time I saw her. We've both talked about this before, and we agree that it's the vector we want." He opened his eyes.
"How sweet," Letty said. "Where would you live?"
"Here. Amelie got herself a posting on Volantis, and I was going to retire before the shooting started. My plans are on hold until the war's won," Adrian said.
Alastor's jaw slackened. He finished his water with a gulp.
"You're retiring?"
"I've done my time," Adrian said.
"Thirty years is a good career," Alastor said.
"You know, when an officer is looked at for command role, the fleet doesn't just look at her career, it looks at her family, too."
"Well," Alastor stroked his beard. "I suppose she's getting up there in rank and could get herself a command." Letty elbowed him with a thunk. His face rearranged itself into a happy expression. "You know, on Volantis we don't put value in diamond rings. When you present your offering, you're going to have to bring something of more value to appease her, and me. And you present it in the nude. She's the hunter and the provider; she's the strong one. You’ve got to show you're not afraid to be vulnerable."
"Oh, when Alastor did it, he came to me in the town square during the winter feast with a sword in hand—a lady like me, being proposed by the crown heir like him!" Letty said. Adrian made a mental note to look up this practice and verify its legitimacy, or confirm he was being fucked with.
"Thank you, father," Adrian said. The word rolled perfectly off his tongue. Like a perfectly executed interceptor maneuver.
"Fetch us drinks—the Cragnoc," Alastor said, snapping his fingers. A girl approached with a bottle. The stopper was metal, with a single diamond inset. She poured poured blue liquid.
"What's this?" Adrian said.
"Cragnoc, 90 proof; Sargnac, native drink mixed with the belon berry extract imported from Duphain space and fermented an extra five years. Duphain can't drink it, but they understand the human luxury liquor market. This bottle's been sat in deep storage for fifty years, only taken out for special occasions in the house. I consider my probable heir remarrying to be a very special occasion," Alastor said. He raised his glass, as did Letty. "To happiness and surviving this war."
"To happiness," Adrian said. They clinked glasses. Adrian tipped his back. Damn, that was a sweet liquor. Strong, too; immediately he felt a weight land on his shoulders. Was that only 90 proof?
"So, how've the other children been?" he said. The glass slipped from his fingers. The clatter came from very far away.
"Adrian," Letty said.
"Shit, sorry." His own words came from down a tunnel. He stood. "This ain't right."
"It's not." Alastor put his glass down. It remained full. Understanding landed seconds later, and stabbed through his heart.
Adrian leapt up and swayed on the spot.
Alastor stood and swept Letty behind him.
"Adrian, I know what you mean to my daughter, but the House always comes first. I'm terribly sorry."
The door burst open, and two burly, blond men wearing silver jumpsuits encircled Adrian.
"Relax and let the tranquilizers take you."
Adrian doubled over, head spinning. Come on; Amelie had taken the dropship, but he had to try. Focus on your hands, forget the rest of your body. Those jumpsuits were scaled armor, vulnerable at the neck, armpits, and groin. He felt heavy hands on his shoulders.
He drew in one practiced motion. His blade passed through muscle and arteries, missed bone. One of the strapping young men grabbed at his neck as he drowned in magma.
Adrian spun about and stabbed. His sword sliced through organs again without hitting bone. The boy groaned and stumbled away, trying to hold his intestines in. Adrian faced Alastor, covered in blood.
"I am relaxed.”
Alastor flickered. A fist with the consistency of a brick slammed into his chin. His legs betrayed him with a final groan. A blurry figure with white hair stood over him. "That was a good strong boy you killed. He had children of his own."
Adrian didn’t have strength to reply.
#
Chapter Thirty-one: Requiem
Adrian's clambered out of the bog of unconsciousness, clawing through layer after layer of tranquilizer induced numbness. His senses came online one by one, until finally he pushed through the surface and opened his eyes.
Nothing changed. Darkness crushed him like he was at the bottom of the ocean. He could very well be at the bottom of the ocean; Volantis had a prison 5 klicks under the south pole. Adrian tested his body.
He was liqui-cuffed to a cold metal chair, hands pinned behind his back. At least he had his warm uniform against the cold stillness around him. Still, he stood. The liqui-cuffs gave a couple centimeters, then slammed his wrists back together. He grunted from agony and opened his eyes.
"Alastor, I know you’re watching," he said. Something brushed past, just inside his vision. He started gasping for air and couldn't calm down.
"Hey, Dad." Alyssa emerged from the shadows. She was the same as the last time he'd seen her, down to her tear-streaked silver makeup. She was even skinnier, just a beanpole with chattering teeth trembling in the darkness.
"Aly," Adrian gasped. "Where did you come from?"
"I don't know. You left me behind in space. It's so cold and lonely out here." She hugged herself tight.
"There was no way through that bulkhead. I could've gone around, but it would've taken hours, and Vindication would've been destroyed or fled by then, and we would've been taken by Emoche. I thought we could retake Tollyon in weeks," Adrian said. He reached out with his feet, and nudged her moccasin toes with his boots. Anything to comfort her.
"But you didn't," Aly said. She shook her head, and her hair fell over her eyes. "I'm still out there.”
"No. Molitor betrayed us all, and now I'm on Volantis, and you're in the middle of the Hullen fleet on Vervunder," Adrian said.
"Mount Molitor?" she gaped. “Why would he ever do that?”
"He was unhappy with his life, I don’t know. It's just me and Vindication against them all," he said.
"It was just me, too. I had to escape, but the Hullen were everywhere, and without your jacket I'm so cold. They're killing anyone related to the fleet. I saw some of my schoolmates on TV. They were telling us to turn in our classmates.”
"I should have come back for you. Ditched the uniform, stolen some civilian clothes, and found you. Maybe Molitor would accept our surrender; I think he would. We'd leave everything behind, but I'd be with you, and we'd be safe." A bunch of treasonous things came pouring out his mouth, things he didn't mean to say.
"If only, Dad." Aly leaned over him so her hair tickled his cheeks. Wet lips pressed his forehead. "I still love you, Dad, but I don't trust you anymore. And I don't think we’ll meet again." With that she turned and slipped back into the darkness.
"Aly," Adrian cried, and leapt forwards. His wrist snapped together with a crack of agony. "Aly!"
A door opened nearby.
"Hello, Adrian," Alastor's craggy voice crackled. A light came on.
Alastor stood atop the stairs, flanked by a man and a woman in armored white jumpsuits. He was in a sargnac cellar, filled with casks of alcohol still damp from their excavation. The paneling was bare plastic, and a drain sat in the floor beneath Adrian's feet. They were below sea level, in the bowels of the great pyramid surrounded by fish and dark water.
"Few tragedies are greater than watching a strong man collapse. No matter how tough we are, like the rocks themselves we have little weaknesses that the ice will slip into, expanding until it cracks us wide open. Even you, for all you've been through—you're still flesh and blood," he said. He strode down the stairs and stood where Alyssa had trembled seconds
ago.
"You think Amelie's going to return to the fold when she sees this?" Adrian spat. Alastor ignored him.
"The children around here think you invincible. There's posters in Primary and other cities. At least one major blog features you as one of its primary focuses. Even I thought you invincible. You appeared at my daughter's side, a lowborn who'd made it impossibly high. And you kept rising to unimaginable heights. I hated that my daughter loved someone so low, but I gradually came to like your perseverance, and appreciate your love for your bastard, for she is still your flesh and blood."
"Not enough for me to marry her?" Adrian said.
"Maybe. I didn't want it, but Letty had my ear, and Amelie was always her favorite. In time I would've come to terms with the marriage, and probably granted my daughter her inheritance, and formally adopted Alyssa into the family," he said. Sadness showed on his face.
"Then what's this about?" Adrian looked about him. Alastor patted his shoulder.
"I know who's winning this war. It's time to ensure the survival of my family," he said. He drew a blue banner from his pocket. "I've made a deal. The evacuation into orbit has begun."
"Well, Johnathan was right," Adrian said. He strained at his cuffs one more time. This time he barely budged them; liqui-cuffs grew tighter the longer they were worn, as the memory alloy adjusted to the struggles of its captive.
"Johnathan's view of politics is as one-dimensional as yours. He looks at it like he's on the bottom, instead of from up-top, like the nobility was trained to do. All options must be considered. And I'll not have my House wiped out by the end war."
"I thought Emoche was killing all nobles?" Adrian said.
"There's always room for money in the eyes of the greedy. Come on, you should know this." Alastor tutted at him like a particularly dumb child. Adrian shrugged, wondering if Alastor knew Emoche’s true goal. "Once the move is complete and my family is safe, I'll let this opera play out."
"And Amelie's going to let that happen? She barely tolerates you now. You think she'll love you when she comes home and finds what you've done?" Adrian said.