by M. D. Cooper
Being a Rhoads was a source of pride; as the preacher’s son, he had very rarely been anything but. Now his blessings had turned into chains. Paul hurried through the house and made to leave.
The guards outside the private rooms regarded him with surprise.
“Sir, your itinerary doesn’t list any meetings taking place this early,” Drake said.
“A surprise for my wife. Stay here and guard her as you would me.”
Lieutenant Drake stared him down. “You know I can’t do that, sir. One of us must come with you, one way or another.”
“Please,” Paul pleaded. “Hardly anyone is awake yet. Nothing’s going to happen to me with so many members of the Revolution Fleet downworld. I need some time to myself. With what lies ahead of me, I need to spend time alone to reflect. There’s value in one’s own counsel that you can only find when alone. Do me this favor.”
Drake sighed, and then glanced at the other guards nearby. “If something happens to you, it’ll be more than just my job. It could be the end of the revolution.”
“I’ll come with you,” Alberta spoke up. “But I’ll be quiet, and anything I see or hear will remain in the strictest confidence. You have my word.”
Alberta had been with him a long time. Paul knew he could trust her, but he would still have to find a way to ditch her.
“All right. It seems I have no choice. Come, then.”
They hurried down the front steps and into the car that waited out front. Paul got into the back, and Alberta sat beside him. The chauffeur nodded as the car hovered away from the curb. “Good morning, sir. Early start.”
“A lot to do.”
“A busy man like yourself, I can imagine that’s very true!” The driver chuckled kindly, and Paul forced a good-natured smile onto his lips.
Good people—the galaxy was full of them. Paul had met many of them, shaken their hands. Except now, he was a ticking time bomb, waiting to go off—if Silstrand and Scipio caught up to him, people like his chauffeur would end up caught in the crosshairs.
And it wasn’t so much if Silstrand caught up to him—it was when. His father had thought their forces strong enough to defeat the SSF, but with Silstrand’s new allies, they’d crushed the Revolution Fleet. Now they were coming to finish the job.
Paul didn’t want to live with that much death on his conscience. There had been too much already. His father’d had a stomach for it, but Paul? He just wanted it all to stop.
It was hard to get off the speeding maglev when you owned the tracks and were son of the conductor.
* * * * *
Peter thanked the chauffeur when they reached the space elevator’s passenger terminal, and hurried inside with Alberta trailing behind. Once there, he walked quickly to the Tritan and boarded the small craft.
The shipyard orbiting Dante was situated at the lagrange point between the world and its largest moon, and it took thirty minutes to reach it. Paul hadn’t flown a ship on his own for some time, but the interfaces were standard, and comfortable familiarity came back to him before long.
No one at the local space traffic control questioned his departure, either. One of the benefits of being in charge.
They settled into the cradle in an empty bay, and Paul stepped off the shuttle first, turning to Alberta with a hand raised. “Wait here.”
She rose and shook her head. “Sir—Paul, that’s not a good idea and you know it.”
“I’m safe here, and you know it. This facility is more than secure. I’m not going to argue with you about it.
Alberta’s eyes narrowed for a brief moment before she finally nodded. “I’ll be monitoring you and the area. First sign of trouble and I’m coming in to get you.”
Paul would take what he could get. He gave her a curt nod and a deliberate look of warning before he stepped off the shuttle. He walked toward the bay’s exit, which opened to reveal Bishop waiting for him.
Peter shook the man’s hand. “Thanks for being so discreet about this, Bishop.”
“My pleasure, sir. You know I’d do anything for the mission, for you and your family. You’ve given so much of yourselves….”
Paul tuned the man out, though he was skilled enough at dealing with the public that he appeared engaged and attentive as the pair walked along the deserted section of the shipyard’s drydock ring toward the ship he was most concerned with.
When they arrived, Bishop led him to an observation deck overlooking the dock. Within sat a rather angular ship; smaller than a cruiser, but bigger than a freighter, she was a sight to behold. A real beauty.
Paul couldn’t wait to take her out.
“The shields and weapons?” he asked with a tightness in his stomach.
“Coming along,” Bishop said with pride as he puffed up his chest and stood just a bit taller. “By tonight at the latest. When you and the missus want to make your getaway after the gala undetected, this girl will be ready.”
Just the reference to his wife made Paul queasy. “And the stealth tech from Orion?”
“It’s all installed and appears to be working as intended. You and Missus Rhoads will finally get that few minutes of peace you’re so in need of.”
Excellent. Peter let out a sigh of relief. “Thank the stars for that. Remember, Bishop, it’s a surprise for Janice, so we must keep it to ourselves. She needs this just as much as I do.”
Bishop nodded with a twinkle in his eye. “She won’t hear about it from me, Mister Rhoads. It’s just been an honor to help and serve you.”
That’s what they all said before they gave their lives. Peter kept that grief from welling up inside himself by slapping Bishop on the back. “Can we get a tour inside? I want to make sure everything is perfect.”
* * * * *
It was late morning by the time Paul returned to the house, and he knew that he’d have some explaining to do.
“Jan?” he called as he entered the living room.
The space was empty, and his breakfast sat on a wooden tray beside the recliner. The oatmeal—one of his favorite dishes—had congealed and begun to dry.
Paul entered the kitchen, where Janice was pacing back and forth. Dressed for the day in a slimming blue dress and heels, with her long hair tied back in an elegant fish-braid, she stopped with her back to him and rested a hand on the counter.
“Well, he isn’t here, Archie. So where do you think I should start looking? I’ve checked everywhere; no one has seen him except for that traitorous Alberta, and she won’t give me any details other than to say he’s fine, and she’s doing as ordered. As ordered! Against me? His own wife?”
Paul grimaced. He’d known Janice would be upset, but he didn’t want Alberta to end up in her crosshairs.
“The gala is coming up, and I can’t have any more wrenches thrown into this situation with Orion. It’s more serious than even Paul knows.”
He cleared his throat to catch Janice’s attention, and she spun around, wide-eyed.
“He just walked through the door. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Sorry I missed breakfast,” Paul said with an apologetic smile. “Seems you’ve been making plans without me. What’s going on with Orion?”
Janice’s mouth opened, and she stammered on a few attempts at a response.
Paul stepped closer to her and touched her chin. “It’s not like you to be speechless, Jan.”
“I…was worried about you. Where’ve you been?” Soft as her voice was, there was accusation laced within the words.
Paul ran a hand across her head, a comforting gesture he’d learned from his father. “We have such a full day. I needed to get out and clear my head. Have a few meetings before the real work begins. You understand that, don’t you?”
“And you didn’t wake me? No kiss goodbye? It’s not like you, Paul.”
“I gave you a kiss…you just didn’t wake, so I decided to let you sleep.” He smiled to cover the white lie as he stepped to the side and opened the chiller.
Reaching in, he grabbed a handful of grapes from a waiting bowl and popped one in his mouth. Feeling his wife’s eyes still trying to bore a hole through him, Paul moved over to the cabinet to grab a mug.
“Thanks for making the coffee,” he said.
It’d be weak and barely palatable, but Paul didn’t want to bring up his dissatisfaction with her brew right then.
“That’s all you have to say?” Janice asked, eyes narrowing as she stood there, barely having moved. “I woke at six to get ready, to have your breakfast just as you like it sent up by the help. That was five hours ago, Paul. Five hours! You didn’t leave a message, you didn’t answer my calls. Or anyone else’s, for that matter.”
Paul gave a shrug, which he tempered with an apologetic smile. “I turned off my messaging pad; I didn’t want to be disturbed. I wanted to be alone, Janice. Alberta was with me, I was perfectly safe.” He poured the dark coffee into his mug and watched steam rise off it.
“Don’t bring her up with me.” Janice stormed past him. As she left the kitchen, she called out over her shoulder, “I’ll deal with her later!”
Paul sighed. “Jan, don’t take your anger out on Alberta. She was just doing her job, and she’s been doing it very well,” he said as he strode after her.
Janice spun around just as Paul reached her. “You’ll defend her to me? Maybe she should be your wife, then.”
“Don’t be hysterical.” Paul cringed at his choice of words. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”
Janice appeared to calm down and nodded, taking a deep breath before she spoke. “We have too much riding on this event with Orion for you to suddenly decide you need some peace and quiet. When this is over, we can do what we’ve always talked about—take a vacation, get away from it all for a little while, but not yet. Now isn’t the time.”
Paul shook his head. “Someone else is always determining when it’s the ‘right time’. Father, you, even Kylie. When do I get to make a choice about my life?”
Janice stared at him. “Where is this coming from? Have I ever asked you to do something you didn’t want to do?”
“Yes. With Orion,” Paul answered. “Now I hear you talking about them with Archibald? What is going on that I don’t know about?”
“Nothing,” Janice answered quickly. Too quickly. “I know it sounds bad, but it was nothing of consequence. You know I handle events like the gala. I make the arrangements and accommodations. You should see the things that these dignitaries want. They take kid gloves, Paul.”
“That’s all it is?” He’d never known his wife to be overdramatic, but he’d also never picked up on her lying to him, either. So which was it?
“Yes!” She threw her arms up in the air. “I was venting about the trials of being your wife. I’m sorry if I’m not perfect all the time.”
“I don’t expect you to be perfect, Jan.” Paul stepped forward and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry if that’s how you took it.”
“I’m not keeping secrets from you, if that’s what you’re thinking. How could I? You’re my husband. We’re joined and one, just as it’s meant to be.” She gazed at him with warm, loving eyes and suddenly Paul was overwhelmed with guilt.
He didn’t show it, though. The years at his father’s feet had taught him how to always appear composed—no matter how he felt inside.
Lifting her hand, he gave it a gentle kiss. “I’m sorry for succumbing to all the pressure.”
“And I’m sorry you have to live with it. You’re all the revolution has left. Your father is dead; David’s left us. We need your leadership now more than ever.”
“That’s not making me feel any better, Jan.” He sighed.
“I’m sorry. I know the weight you’ve felt all this time about being Peter’s son—the preacher with so much to live up to. Tell you what,” Janice patted his chest, “go sit in your favorite chair by the window. I’ll have an even better brunch made for you.”
Brunch did sound nice, and he was hungry.
“Give you a few minutes to yourself,” she continued. “Look outside and see how beautiful it all is. See what we’re working on saving.”
Paul nodded. “Thanks, Janice. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Well, hopefully,” she said with a smile, “you’ll never have to find out.”
Something about the way she said the words made his stomach turn.
DATE WITH AN EMPRESS
STELLAR DATE: 12.20.8948 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Shuttle approaching Battia
REGION: Hanoi System (independent)
As the Battian shuttle dropped toward the planet, Grayson worried once more whether going down without backup was the right move.
After he’d relayed his plan to Fallon, she objected strenuously, but he’d overruled her. He and Maureen were both counting on the fear of an orbital strike to keep Empress Mei from doing anything stupid.
The shuttle passed through the clouds, and the forward display showed a vast blue ocean, its surface undulating gently. Eventually a sliver of land appeared in the distance, and breakers began to form on the water.
As the smudge of land grew, it resolved into a city: Banglad, the capital.
It was an old city, at least old for its construction materials. While the neighboring world of Hubei had—before Peter Rhoads destroyed it—kept a more agrarian focus as they carefully introduced new technologies, Battia had opted for a rapid re-industrialization.
From what Grayson could tell, it hadn’t served them well. Brick and steel buildings filled the city, while factories on the outskirts and in the port belched smoke into the air. Peering down he saw that the streets of Banglad were narrow and crowded.
Maureen replied.
Then they were past the city proper and approaching the high walls that surrounded the immortal one’s palace. The barrier was sheathed in gold, and the silver gate that separated the empress’s domain from that of her people gleamed all the more when contrasted against the haze that hung over the city.
Grayson nodded as he spotted diamond-tipped spears set atop the wall they passed over.
Grayson tried to keep an open mind, but his heart was hardening toward the empress even before he’d had a chance to meet her.
Maureen said.
Despite her words, Grayson knew that Maureen would keep a cool head. She was the very definition of unflappable.
As they’d spoken, the shuttle slowed and then settled down on a rooftop pad in the center of the palace’s compound. The building they’d landed on was over three hundred meters tall, and sheathed in glass and gold.
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Once the shuttle doors opened, Pauline glanced at him, a smug look on her face. “Just wait until you get inside.”
Grayson struggled to keep his true opinion under wraps. “Oh, I can’t wait.”
He tugged at his uniform, straightening it as he gestured for Maureen to step ahead of him. They followed Pauline out of the shuttle and down a small ramp. He took note of the blue sky and how clean the air smelled within the protected fortress. Nearby, a low domed structure sat atop the roof, and he sent a query to Alice.
Interesting.
As they continued toward the rooftop entrance, a figure in red robes emerged—the first man from Battia they had met. Long, black tendrils of hair framed his angular face, and as he approached, Grayson saw that his hands were tucked into the opposite sleeves.
He bowed at the waist. “Welcome to the Golden City, home to Empress Mei Majai.”
Grayson bowed—though not as far—and Maureen followed suit. “We’re honored to be received at the palace.”
“I’m Hai. I’ll escort you through to the viewing chamber. If you have time for refreshments, I may offer you steamed milk with honey and mint leaves.”
“Sounds delightful, but I’m afraid not. We’re on a tight schedule, but we do thank you for your hospitality,” Maureen said.
Grayson kept quiet as they followed Hai into the building, where they were led down marble stairs, the banisters on either side carved from jade. At the base of the steps, they entered a lift and rode approximately halfway down the structure. From there, Hai led them through what he realized—given the dais at the far end—was a throne room. The ceiling rose fifty meters over their heads and featured blue crystal chandeliers hanging from delicate arches, illuminating thick tapestries that covered the walls.