The High Ground

by Melinda Snodgrass

  “So they just walk away?”

  “Oh no. Captain Zeng is being promoted and assigned to a particularly dangerous post—”

  “He seemed so sympathetic,” Mercedes blurted.

  “And thus you learn another valuable lesson, my dear. Take nothing at face value. In fact assume every pleasant face hides a lie.”

  I can’t live like that, Mercedes thought, but her father was still talking.

  “Lady Danica and her family will meet with a tragic Foldspace accident while returning home to Kronos; others will have similarly bad luck.”

  “You’re going to just kill them without charging them or giving them a trial…?”

  “Yes. I am.”

  “And they’re just going to show up and go through this charade?”

  “I’ve generously placed security on their youngest children back on Kronos. The parents will play their part.”

  A shiver went down Mercedes’ back. “And Cousin Musa?” she forced out.

  “Will be greeted with kisses on both cheeks as is proper with a close relative.” He looked at her and his expression was serious to the point of being grim. “This is the game of kings, Mercedes. We play it to win.”

  He started for the door. “Wait,” Mercedes called. He looked back. “That task you gave me… I’ve made my decision.”

  * * *

  The Distinguido Servicio Cruzar had some heft to it. Mercedes was very aware of its weight against her left breast. With the ceremony concluded people were streaming toward the buffet and settling at tables beneath the billowing tents. Dani had been standing at the other end of the line of recipients and had tried to reach Mercedes. Mercedes had turned her back and left the stage. It was the direct cut with an exclamation point added. Cipriana had given her a startled glance as Mercedes hurried past.

  Yes, she was furious with Danica but she also couldn’t bear to face the other girl. She’s going to be dead soon. I didn’t try to argue about it. I wouldn’t have won. But should I have tried? The thoughts tormented her as she hurried through the crowd.

  Boho stood in a circle formed by his family. His mother’s exquisite Madonna face was framed by a shimmering silk scarf. His father, the powerful Duque de Argento y Pepco had a hand on his youngest son’s shoulder. The ten-year-old had a mulish expression, the father an exasperated one. The youngest Cullen stood very close to her mother and clung to the folds of her skirt. Her older sister, who was fourteen, was trying to fit into the circle of young women who orbited the family like rings around a planet. Boho’s groupies, Mercedes thought. They’re in for a surprise. She inclined her head to the group. The duque and Boho performed sweeping bows, the ladies curtsied. Mercedes didn’t stop. She had a more pressing errand.

  Accepting bows, curtseys and congratulations Mercedes glided through the crowd dispensing a smile and a nod, but continuing her search until she found Sumiko and her family. Her mother, Mikazuki, kept touching her daughter, hands fluttering from Sumiko’s hair to her shoulder to her hand as if to reassure herself that Sumiko was still there. Her stepfather, Ari, looked bored. None of the sons from either marriage seemed to be present.

  “May I borrow Sumiko for a minute?” Mercedes asked as she joined them.

  More bows and more curtsies. “Of course,” Ari said. He had one of those Voice-Of-God bass voices.

  She and Sumiko headed to an arbor roofed with the glossy leaves of a winter jasmine plant. Tiny white flowers wildly threw aroma into the wind. “Well?” Sumiko demanded once they were screened from view.

  “You’re out. They’re drafting a statement about a family emergency that will stress you’re not quitting, but taking a leave of absence to deal with a family matter. By the time the public realizes you’re not coming back I’ll be graduating and all the focus will be on me.”

  “Isn’t it always?”

  Mercedes flushed at the bitter tone. “Look, I’m sorry, Sumi, but what happened to Hugo is not my fault. It isn’t anybody’s fault.” Mercedes cocked her head and considered. “No, that’s not right. It’s those terrorists’ fault.” She knew she had stumbled a bit when she said terrorists; fortunately Sumiko was too absorbed in her own pain to notice.

  The other girl slumped. “I know. But I’m just so angry all the time, and they’re all dead and I can’t kill them over and over again. So I blame the people I can reach. If we hadn’t been on the strut—”

  “We had to get control of the hub.”

  “But it ultimately didn’t matter.”

  “But it might have. If I’d failed to take out that ship it would have been up to all of you to retake control,” Mercedes said softly. “We can’t change the past. All we can do is try for a better future. I’ve done what you wanted. You don’t have to go back.”

  “And I appreciate it. Is your dad going to conscript a bunch more girls to be your attendants?”

  “No. Cipriana is staying and I convinced him she was enough of a chaperone.”

  That got a laugh. “Your dad obviously doesn’t know Cipri all that well.”

  Mercedes smiled back. “Well, for God’s sake don’t tell him.” They hugged. “I’ll miss you. So much.”

  “We’ll see each other during the holidays.” They left the arbor and Sumiko returned to her family. Mercedes’ gaze shifted to a table near a fountain. The rising wind meant spray was wafting into the tent, so it was being avoided by the noble guests. Tracy and his father were at that table.

  Mercedes stood looking at the father and son. Tracy knelt next to his father’s chair looking up into the man’s lined and weary face. Perhaps it was only the water from the fountain, but Mercedes suspected the man was weeping. She spun on her heel and walked away, not wishing to intrude and trying to postpone the conversation that had to take place.

  * * *

  “So proud of you. So very proud.” Alexander sniffed and he groped for a napkin on the table and wiped away the tears and the moisture from the fountain. “If only your mother…” He shook his head.

  “Dad, I… I want to say something. I’m glad you—” Tracy broke off, trying to think how to phrase it that wouldn’t make it sound sullen instead of the thank you he was trying express. “I’m glad you found a way to make me see that I should go to The High Ground.”

  A long bony hand was laid on his shoulder. “I knew I might lose you, but it’s what you do for your child. Giving you a future was more… well, I had to do it.”

  “I know.”

  “Remember that when you have children of your own.”

  “Okay.”

  “Have you spoken to the Devrises yet?”

  “No.” Tracy hung his head. “I don’t know what to say. They’ll blame me. Like Sumiko.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Do what’s right. Go.” His father nudged his shoulder.

  Tracy stood, blotted the wet patch on his right knee with a napkin and nodded. “Okay, but get us some food, all right? I’m starving.”

  “What do you want?” Alexander asked.

  “Everything. But lots of oysters if they’ve got them.” His father gave him a quizzical look, shook his head and smiled.

  It was like pushing through molasses to force his legs to move. Tracy slowly crossed to the tent where the Devris clan was huddled. Hugo’s sisters and brothers were looking scared, Lady Devris was clinging to her husband’s arm with a desperate look on her face. Malcomb was red-faced and he clutched the medal in his hand.

  “Bastards aren’t getting another of my boys! Not happening! Not ever!”

  “Malcolm dear, hush, they’ll hear you,” Lady Devris pleaded, her hand patting the air as if placating an angry dog. People at nearby tables were staring, expressions haughty; some began to drift away as if grief was déclassé and death might be catching.

  “Let ’em. How dare they give me this piece of shiny crap when they took my boy from me.” He jerked free of his wife’s grasp and stormed toward a trashcan tucked discreetly behind a flowering bush.

  “Don’t do i
t, sir,” Tracy said. His tone was soft but urgent.

  Malcomb whirled, a bull coming around to confront the matador. “Give me one good reason.”

  Tracy stepped in close and said very quietly, “Because they will get your boys. You know that. And if you insult them like this it’ll be Stefan, Rafe and Brandon who’ll pay the price.” Tracy sucked in a breath. “And if you want to blame somebody, blame me. I’m the one who took us out on that strut.”

  The fat man gave a gasping sob, flung his arms around Tracy and wept. “He was brave, wasn’t he?” he snorted.

  “Yes, sir. Braver than… well, he was the first to say we had to go. He was my friend and it’s going to be very hard to go on without him.” Tracy’s throat ached as he uttered the words and contemplated his remaining years at the academy. Yes the snubs and the insults would continue, but he had made some friends and… Mercedes. The name sung in his heart and his head.

  Malcomb released him and stepped back. “It’s not your fault, son. But this required military service. This bullshit has to stop. I’ll be working for that.”

  Tracy nodded; he bowed to Lady Devris and the daughters, nodded to the boys, who were wide-eyed from the raw emotions being expressed. He walked away, eyes raking across the elegant gathering. None of whom knew that a poisonous splinter had wedged itself into the body of the FFH. Would they co-opt Devris, eventually quench his rage? Or would he find supporters and would fractures start to appear in the seemingly impregnable facade of the Fortune Five Hundred?

  He met Mercedes partway across the lawn. “I was hoping you’d introduce me to your father,” she said.

  “Of course. He’s likely to become a puddle,” Tracy said with a smile.

  “That’s cute. I’ll come over as soon as I’ve spoken to Caballero Devris.”

  “Uh… I wouldn’t.” At her inquiring look he reluctantly continued, “He’s taking Hugo’s death… hard. He might say something that you couldn’t ignore.”

  “Oh, I can ignore quite a lot.”

  Tracy kept his hand at his side, but lifted a finger toward the branches of a nearby tree. “And there’s a press camerabot pacing you. Whoever is monitoring the feed might not be so discreet,” he whispered.

  She sighed. “The press was bad before. It’s going to be unbearable now since we’re—”

  “Big damn heroes,” they said in chorus and shared a smile.

  “And I have some really great news for all of us big damn heroes,” Mercedes said. “We’ve been excused from the prueba. If we keep our grades up we will automatically return for the second year.”

  “Midshipman Princess Arango.”

  She made a face that wrinkled her nose. Tracy couldn’t pull his gaze away. “That is an appalling mouthful.”

  “Wait until it’s Admiral Empress.” A shadow of something—worry, fear—swept across her face, and he realized he’d stepped in it. “I’m sorry. Of course that’s decades away. Your father will reign for many more years.” She looked even more upset at that. He touched her hand. “What? What have I said?”

  “Come away.” She led him to an arbor where they were shielded from cameras. She twisted her ScoopRing and it emitted a high-pitched electronic buzz designed to confound microphones.

  She was hesitating about something. Now that they were unobserved he reached to take her hands in his. She pulled her hands away and stepped back. “What’s wrong?”

  She had the expression he had dubbed The Royal Mask. The lush mouth was set, the lips folded into a tight line. The dark eyes gazed into his for a moment and he saw turmoil. Then she looked away and addressed the twining leaves and flowers. Her voice was flat and emotionless.

  “I wanted to tell you in person before you heard or read the news. I’m marrying Boho. The engagement will be announced in a few days.”

  “Boho?” he said stupidly. Then louder and with growing heat, “Boho! Mercedes, you can’t!”

  She looked at him now and her eyes were cold. “I can. I am.”

  “Why?” It sounded anguished, even to his own ears.

  She looked at him. “My father sent me to The High Ground with two tasks. Graduate. And find a consort. I’m going to get one of those out of the way so I can focus on the more important task.”

  “But you love me.”

  “Yes, I do.” He started to move to her, but she held up a hand. Only a gesture but it froze him in place. The boundary had been set and he knew he would never cross it again. “But Boho is the right choice. Really the only choice. Well born, handsome, charismatic. He’ll graduate with ease and he’s everyone’s idea of a military officer. Having him as my consort will reassure and mollify any conservatives who question my abilities.”

  “Mercedes.” She drew herself up and a flash of anger glinted in her eyes. “Highness,” he amended and the word tasted of ash and gall. “He’s a coward. I didn’t want to tell you but—”

  “Then it’s a good thing I have you, isn’t it? You will be a great captain, Cadet Belmanor. I expect you’ll even rise to admiral and I know you’ll serve me with great distinction and with the same fervency and loyalty you have shown thus far, but I do what I must.”

  “And what about happiness? Love? You’d trade all that for a handsome egotist who will never respect you?” Bitterness edged each word and an aching filled his chest as if hearts really could break.

  “I am not an ordinary person who can seek those things. I know my duty. Goodbye, Cadet.”

  She was gone.

  He stood empty and desolate. He unpinned the medal, gazed at it as it rested in the palm of his hand. Quit?

  No. It had never been more than a foolish dream. She needed him and he would be there for her. Always.

  * * *

  The afternoon was drawing to a close. People were beginning to take their leave. Servants were clearing dirty plates and the buffet tables were nearly depleted.

  Mercedes had almost made it to the garden steps and the privacy of the palace when Dani came running up. The tendons in the girl’s neck were stretched, her eyes were dark with terror. She clutched Mercedes’ arm. Two large men in well-tailored suits were closing on them, and the camerabots in the area suddenly sank to the ground and switched off.

  “Please. Please. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t realize. Please. I don’t want to die. Mercedes, help me!”

  Grief, anger, embarrassment, shame. The conflicting emotions crashed through her and bile filled Mercedes’ mouth. She stared down into the agonized face of her childhood friend. She was on the verge of slipping an arm around Dani and sweeping her into the palace, taking her to her quarters, guarding her somehow.

  The men, sporting deceptively pleasant expressions, stepped to either side of Danica. “Your father is looking for you, my lady. If you’ll come with us.”

  Dani gave a cry of terror and grief and sank to the ground. The SEGU agents lifted her to her feet and hustled her away. Danica threw back one final desperate look and mouthed her name. Mercedes ran, crying, to the safety of her bedroom, and found it offered no solace to the emotional agony she felt.

  The game of kings.

  It had cost her her soul.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This book wouldn’t have happened without the help and input from a lot of people. First thanks to my amazing agent, Kay McCauley, who was determined to find the right home for this story. My patient stockbroker, Brian Bower, who spent a long time talking with me about how to ruin a person’s finances or a planet’s economy. Thanks to Daniel Abraham and Ty Frank aka James S.A. Cory for being so helpful during the plotting session that created the arc of Imperials. To Eric Kelley and Sage Walker who let me brainstorm with them on tricky bits, and to my writers’ group—Sage and Matt Reiten for their firm and fair critiques. I also want to thank my editor, Miranda Jewess, and my publisher, Titan Books, for believing in this project enough to allow me to tell the whole story. This is merely the first act in my five-act drama.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 
; Melinda Snodgrass is the acclaimed author of many science fiction novels, including the Circuit and Edge series, and is the co-editor with George R.R. Martin of the Wild Cards series, to which she also contributes. She has had a long career in television, writing several episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation while serving as the series’ story editor, and has written scripts for numerous other shows, including Odyssey 5, The Outer Limits, Reasonable Doubts and Seaquest DSV. She was also a consulting producer on The Profiler. She lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

  COMING SOON FROM TITAN BOOKS

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  MELINDA SNODGRASS

  Thracius “Tracy” Belmanor and the Infanta Mercedes de Arango have graduated from The High Ground and have become officers in the Orden de la Estrella. Tracy’s posting aboard a battleship leads him to further doubt the intentions of the Solar League, as he and his comrades are required to “assimilate” the settlers of a Hidden World. Meanwhile, Mercedes’ own posting—and her difficult marriage to Beauregard “Boho” Cullen, made to assure her succession of the throne—divides her loyalties. In a society where most humans and all aliens are second-class citizens, the two young officers will have difficult choices to make…

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