Despite her diminutive size, Janis seemed to loom in the shadows, almost vibrating with the energy of her disgust for Rikkard. “We are Clansmen, Rikkard, born to fight. Even you must remember this. And we have not fought in too long. Other Spirit Cats are conquering worlds and yet we roam restlessly, doing nothing, accomplishing nothing. We might as well travel outside The Republic and see what worlds are for the taking. We might accomplish more.”
As her tirade washed over him, Rikkard seemed to see through her and beyond her, past the metal walls of the DropShip, as though her words rent the universe and he saw somewhere else. Saw a world of dry, hot landscapes, and a predatory bird astride a tornado. Her words, as though a catalyst, spun visions before his eyes, until he physically bent under the onslaught.
Beyond, beyond, beyond.
“Star Colonel?”
Janis’ words roped him back to reality with a shuddering pop that seemed like a hammer-blow against his human shell, the long peal of the tone attenuating into the stillness of space.
“Star Colonel?”
His eyes found hers, finally focusing on the here and now as he seemed to have the first solid set of answers in far too long. She seemed to shrink as his banked passions sparked and enveloped him in energy. “Beyond.”
“What?”
“Beyond.” He smiled, a cat thanking lunch for entering its trap. “You said it right, Janis.”
“What?”
“We have hunted for sanctuary across dozens of worlds, all to no avail. It is time to move beyond The Republic. Beyond the borders trapping and obscuring our visions. We will search beyond the old Republic borders.”
She stood dumbstruck, the hate in her eyes dimming with confusion, and then slowly realigning with avarice at the scope of what he proposed. He knew he had her then.
The Spirit Cats were on the prowl.
7
Botanical Gardens, Jojoken
Altay, Andurien
Duchy of Andurien
8 July 3135
Julietta Marik tilted her head slightly and shook her hair to resettle the dark mass that cascaded halfway down her back. Her jasmine-colored dress, so dark that even in the sun it might be confused for black, reached to her neck, wrists and ankles and had begun to feel stifling as the afternoon wore on.
Perhaps I should have worn something a little lighter.
She reached for the dark glass on the small table, marveling at its weight despite its look of fragility, and took a small sip of the honey-lemon tea.
“While my business may not seem glamorous, my lady, I do own the single largest safari on Zahle,” Charles Cunin IV said. His voice managed to come across as clipped and trim as the man himself.
Not bad-looking, really. She took another sip, marveling at how the drink tasted as if she were biting directly into a honeycomb. Janos would appreciate this.
“Even in the current . . . unpleasantness, my holdings continue to flourish while others have fallen on hard times.”
She smiled as though interested and raised her cup as a signal for him to continue. She hoped for another breath of fresh air in the botanical garden to ease the heat of the sun, which seemed to cut right through the giant parasol protecting her from its direct rays. Would the man continue on about his wealth for the whole afternoon? Their third visit, and each discussion seemed to pick up where he left off; talking about what he would bring to the marriage. Compensating for the loss of his family’s world during the Jihad? If Mother actually pursues this course of action, I pray the man finds attractions elsewhere to stop up his
mouth. She managed to not quite shudder at the thought of the other attentions the man might bring to the marriage.
He paused long enough to raise his own glass in a similar gesture, took a sip and continued. “In fact, if my lady wishes, I would be most delighted to take you on a tour of our holdings on the southern continent.”
“You are too kind, Cunin.”
He smiled, and despite his ridiculous handlebar mustache, it came across as genuine. “Please, my lady. Call me Charles.”
She waved her other hand kindly. “Perhaps another day, Cunin. But not today.”
“As my lady wishes. And my invitation?”
You would do nothing but talk for the entire trip. I would be bored to tears. She searched desperately for a way to deflect the question, and her eyes lighted on a section of the botanical garden that was taped off, with a full dozen workers toiling in the hot sun planting a cornucopia of florae taken from three dozen long, flat potting trays. “How often do they change the flower arrangements?”
The other man appeared flustered for a moment, then regained his equilibrium and carefully glanced over his shoulder, past the cordon of security guards that kept other pedestrians from intruding on them, to the area being worked on. He turned back around, an almost comical look of grief etching his features.
“My lady, generally speaking the gardens are left to their own devices. Yes, we import a wide variety of species from around the Inner Sphere, planting them in landscaped regions best suited to their locale of origin. But within that regime, we believe in allowing the species to find their own freedoms. As such, we almost never impose such drastic modifications.”
She raised an eyebrow, pointing with the glass. A not-so-subtle hint of Andurien beliefs, Cunin? “Then, what has happened?”
“Vandalism, my lady.”
“Vandalism?”
“Yes. That region of the garden plays host to a wide variety of flora from the Marik-Stewart Commonwealth. And unfortunately, for many decades now, there have been those who call themselves ‘patriots,’ who vandalize the area. I’m sorry you had to see it, but you wished to visit the garden today and this is the finest spot from which to view its splendor.”
And the safest, I’m sure. She took another sip, savoring the delicious drink, before responding, her dull-looking eyes observing him carefully. “How petty.”
She caught the subtle tightening of flesh around the eyes, before he responded with a smile.
Elis would be shocked at such a rude statement fromher older sister. Or perhaps more shocked I tweezed out some of what the man hides? She sighed deeply, for a moment lost in fond memory of the little girl who had looked up to her older sister; now she had transformed into a grown woman who seemed all secrets and darkness and rudeness toward the woman who practically raised her.
“My lady?”
Startled out of her reverie, she jerked her hand and snapped the stem of the glass, tea splashing onto her dress and the table as the two pieces fell into her lap. “Oh!” she exclaimed, standing too quickly and sending her chair falling backward.
“My lady, are you all right?” Cunin asked as he sprang to her side to snatch the falling glass from her dress.
“Yes, of course. I’m so sorry.” She was glad her dark complexion hid the flush heating her face. She blushed again when she saw Cunin wave off a trio of guards who had rushed forward.
“No worries, my lady. Despite its weight, the Lopez crystal is very delicate.”
“Lopez?” she said, pausing in her effort to soak up the tea on her bodice with his handkerchief. “I thought Lopez was rendered uninhabitable during the Jihad.”
“It was.”
“Then how?”
“A family heirloom.”
She began fanning herself as the heat from the day combined with her blazing face to make her feel faint. “Sir, I am truly sorry. I have acted the fool and destroyed a precious treasure you chose to share with me. I must make amends.”
The other man smiled as he righted her chair, the warmth of it sliding past her defenses. “Call me Charles.”
She sat, swallowed slowly and tried the more intimate name. “Charles.” Not so bad.
“And you must accept my invitation to the safari preserves. You’ll find it well worth the time, my lady.”
Caught in a trap of her own making, she knew there was no way out. Elis would have the man wrapped aroun
d her finger, in complete control of the situation. Her emotions torn between anger and self-pity, she tried to quash her reaction, but nearly lost control altogether.
Mother, you can’t really mean this. I’m a grown woman. Almost fifty, for heaven’s sake. She managed to put a smile back onto lips that just avoided a quiver. “Of course, Cunin.”
He smiled even wider, his eyes alight with charm, but a knowing humor as well.
He allowed Julietta the small step back away from his first name, but he’d conquered the larger battle-ground for now.
“What do you think, Charles?” Duke Ari Humphreys asked. He was surveying the acres of gardens from twenty-three stories up; even the lush vegetation appeared wilted in the heavy heat, and he luxuriated in the cool air circulating through his office. Central air. One of life’s great indulgences.
“A trollop, my liege.”
Ari smiled, glad he was facing away from Charles. Close confidant Charles might be, but Ari found the other man’s archaic language amusing. But if he got the job done . . . “A trollop? If you’re going to use a name, Charles, call a spade a spade.”
“The wench broke an irreplaceable family heirloom! “
Ari pulled his smile under control and waited for his small, thin nose to finish twitching with the telltale of hidden laughter, then turned away from the magnificent view. “But what did you find out, Charles? Is this serious?”
Charles thumped his favorite cane on the floor, as though his tone were not emphasis enough. “I would as soon marry a matron of a Canopian Pleasure Circus.”
“Bloody hell, Charles,” Ari began, exasperated now. “Not again. I understand you don’t want to marry her. I understand you didn’t even want to send the proposal in the first place. But we agreed it would be worth testing the waters.”
Charles’ mustache practically quivered with indignation. “I never expected a return of interest, much less to be drinking tea with Julietta Marik and contemplating a real marriage proposal.”
Ari moved around the desk and dropped his squat body into the tall, leather chair that dwarfed him; made others think less of him. Keeps them off their guard. “You think I imagined they would respond? Jessica Marik actually responding to a communiqué from me? First time in years.
“Well, there was that incident—”
Ari raised his hand, cutting the words off midflow. “Don’t want to hear it. We’ve had our differences, but I don’t hate her like Anson or Lester. Still doesn’t mean I expected a response. And it still doesn’t answer my question, Charles. What do you think? Is it real?”
The other man blew out against his mustache several times and Ari tamped down his irritation. Wondered when his longtime companion’s personal habits had begun to wear at him so.
“Sire, I cannot yet tell. She is as prudish as virgin ’02 Villanueva plum wine, making our conversations as banal as her looks. It has proven much more difficult than I imagined.”
Prudish. You , calling her a prude. That’s rich. “But is she a spy? The woman’s practically in the grave and yet she’s never been married. Has her mother grown so desperate? Or is it a great subterfuge? If it’s a ploy, it’s a great one. I’ve watched a dozen holovids of each of your meetings and I’m catching nothing. Course, my branth has more animation in her eyes than that bloody woman.”
“Yes, my liege.” The man thumped the ground again, then spoke in a querulous tone. “What shall I do?”
“You offered to take her on a safari to your southern holdings?”
“Yes, my liege.”
“Then take her. See what happens.”
“Sir, I have no qualms about your plan. But this seems intentionally cruel.”
Ari slapped his hand on the table, allowing anger to wrinkle his face and spike his voice. “I’m not talking about going through with anything, Charles. But we have yet to unsettle her, and we need to unsettle her if we’re going to find out what’s going on.”
“This could backfire, my liege. If we insult her, she might carry that insult back to her mother. Do we need another incident to set back our relations?”
“I’ll deal with that if it happens. My ass, Charles. Stop debating and just do it. Take her on the trip and see what you can knock loose. If she’s as prim and proper as you say, then she’ll never discuss with her mother anything untoward that might happen on your trip. If she proves less prudish than she appears, then we might just find the crack we need to wedge open the spy angle, and then I won’t care what Jessica has to say on the matter.”
The other man bowed formally, his face showing his mortification at prompting such anger in his ruler. “I apologize, sire. I will depart immediately.”
As the other man left, Ari dropped the anger as smoothly as a curtain, opening up a small drawer and reaching under a false bottom to pull out a rare bottle of Glengarry Black Label. He poured a measured half finger and hid the bottle before tossing it back, the warm glow burning the length of his throat.
The man had his faults, but he usually got the job done. Let’s see what you’re up to, lady Jessica.
8
Jade Starfarer, Merchant -class JumpShip
Zenith Jump Point
Marik-Stewart Commonwealth
29 August 3135
I hate JumpShip travel.
Nikol sat forlornly in the main passenger berth of the Jade Starfarer JumpShip, hating that her mother preferred the giant ferroglass porthole and its view of the beyond to the minimal humanity of a grav deck. She wasn’t afraid of falling, per se; latched into her chair, which in turn was bolted to the deck, she had no fear of bouncing around from deck to wall to ceiling. Yet her stomach told her otherwise, and she was afraid of spewing; she managed to keep her lunch down through sheer tenacity.
Mother will not see me vomit.
“Isn’t that a beautiful world, dear?”
Nikol glanced at the porthole and grew even queasier for a moment as the view of Marik abruptly replaced the depths of space, remembering that the porthole acted as a viewscreen as well, the world amplified thousands of times. She felt sorry for herself. “It’s over a half million kilometers away, Mother. What do you care what it looks like?”
Her mother’s eyes turned to her—cool eyes that so nearly matched the ones she saw in the mirror every day—and she could practically feel her petulance and general sickness being squeezed by her mother’s will.
“ That world, as you so quaintly put it, my dearest, is not just any world.”
“ Please, Mother.” She swallowed, her parched throat aching at the motion, and wondered if she could stomach another shot of HydratJuice from the squeeze bulb. “I know, it’s Marik. Birth world of House Marik. It’s important.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Why is it important?”
“I thought we were done with questions.”
Her mother’s laugh pealed cool and clear, surprisingly free of rancor or sarcasm. “Oh, my dear, the questions never end. A lifetime is simply a series of endless questions to be answered.”
Nikol slumped forward, pressing her forehead against the cool table between the two of them. “That is so depressing, Mother.”
“You could also look at it as a challenge.”
Please. The months with her mother had been illuminating. With crystal clarity she still remembered the moment they had shared at the gala; an almost intimate moment between mother and daughter to celebrate Nikol’s growing understanding. Nevertheless, she often felt as if she were taking two steps backward for every one forward.
Yet unlike before, she’d begun to learn when it was time to speak up; the sickness just made the words a little more harsh. “I’m not Elis, Mother. You’re not going to get a rise out of me like that. Give me something and you’ll get something useful in return, or just leave me be.” Though she tensed for a moment, her stomach chose that moment to lurch—in fear or sickness?—and she let it go.
“Marik is a symbol, Nikol. A symbol we ca
nnot escape. Antonin Marik founded the first colony on the world over a thousand years ago. And from this world the Marik Commonwealth bloomed, to eventually find its full fruition in the Free Worlds League. Despite our fractious nature, Nikol, we, all of us, are a people ruled by symbols. Mariks, Davions, even Liaos. And this world, the Marik name; it holds a power that cannot be denied.”
Nikol quickly forgot all about her maladies, slowly raising her head to find her mother once more gazing at the view out the porthole. Surprise warred with her roiling stomach for top consideration, before her travel sickness-addled brain perceived a possible answer. You still push, but when I push back, you give it to me straight. Yet all too often since departing Terra she’d pushed back, and more often than not received no answers. So, why is this important? She thought back to that night. Context. You want me to see Marik. See Marik and understand what you see.
As she contemplated the nuances of the relationship between the planet Marik and all those who felt loyalty toward it she took a quick shot from the squeeze bulb, working the foul concoction of concentrated nutrients around her mouth. The time allowed her to choose between several responses before speaking. “It’s a symbol you mean to harness.”
Jade eyes found jade eyes and her mother’s features echoed the predatory look they had worn that gala night. “Yes.”
“You mean to try to expand the influence of the Protectorate.”
“Of course, dear.”
“Anson and Lester will try and stop you.”
“I do not doubt that.”
“And yet the world of Marik is a symbol you must use.”
“Yes, dear.”
She took another pull from the squeeze bulb, this time completely unaware of its taste as she mulled over several responses and finally came to the only logical conclusion. Yet she didn’t speak it immediately, as it felt too simple. Too easy an answer. Not that it would be easy. No, if anything, it would prove very difficult. But the answer itself seemed too easy to reach.
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