Did that have anything to do with Geneva? Sterling wondered. He knew she and Stella had become closer after their adventure.
Three days later when the princess was on her way to a party, she encountered a protest of six hundred women from all age groups, threatening that they would knock down her statue on Princess's Plaza if she ever dare touch their nation’s most charming gentleman again …
Seeing Geneva coming out from inside, he set the magazine back to the shelf and resumed walking. She caught up from behind, holding something cautiously in her hands.
“You don’t want to know what she said?”
He didn’t, but on second thought, he came to a stop. “Okay, what did she say?”
“You’ll be fine!” she declared, smiled, and opened her hands. “As long as you wear this all the time and avoid any trip in the next couple of months.”
He picked up the charm and examined it. It was a piece of cheaply made carnelian engraved with some kind of ophidian pattern. The color changed from a dirty red into brown when he flipped it to the back, where it showed several foreign characters. “How much did it cost you?”
“Certainly less than the photo.”
Her complacence set him off. “Haven’t you realized you’ve been gulled?”
“What’s the big deal?” she said defiantly. “I have money, and I spend it the way I want … and what if it’s real?”
“Fine, thanks.” He thrust the charm into his pocket and picked up speed.
The street quieted down and reached its end at the seashore. When they stepped onto a pebbled sidewalk toward the garage where their car was parked, he caught a glimpse of the two bodyguards following behind at a carefully maintained distance. She chuckled several times while they were walking, but he ignored her.
“She also said something funny!”
Now he couldn’t remain silent anymore. “What’s funny?”
There were more chuckles before her answer came. “She said you and I are going to have four kids.”
“That is funny.”
She made no sound afterwards. Soon the garage building came into sight, dyeing the pebbles ahead into various colors as each letter on its signboard flashed into life. A lump gradually built up inside his chest and burdened his breaths. The trip would soon end.
“There’s something I need to tell you, Geneva.” He slowed down. His own voice seemed to have come from a distance. She came to a halt with him, waited, but kept her head low. He turned aside toward the harbor. The Renaisun-C was hanging above the sea, pale and remote. It was hard to link it to the bright sun that had shone his hometown and his childhood.
“I really like this job, but I’m not planning to stay long. You were right. I didn’t grow up here. I was an orphan and adopted by Harold Nestor when I was five.”
“Harold Nestor …” She was thinking, and after a moment she looked up at him. “Founder of the Nestor SIM Institute?”
He nodded. “He was a civilian professor at our Academy when he and my … his wife came to the orphanage. They were looking for an infant, like all the other couples. But they said when they saw me in a hallway, they just couldn’t let me go. Two years later we moved to Owlhidden, a small country on RC-3. ”
“Then why did you come back?”
“Well, my father left the Academy because they didn’t let him try out his ideas, but he still thought it would be useful for me to go through the traditional training, assuming I’d go back and work in his school some day. We had a hard time persuading my mother, though. She made me promise that I would go back as soon as I finish my mandatory service.”
“So you’re leaving in a year …” she said softly. “Thought I was lucky to have your help.”
He knew he should say something, but couldn’t find the right words. “I’m sure you’ll find someone better than me.”
The sky darkened abruptly as the Renaisun-C sank into the sea. A dinner cruise whistled away from the harbor with tourists waving frantically on the deck.
“Does this have anything to do with William?” Her tone was back to normal as they both resumed walking. “I know he talked to you.”
“No.”
He lied. People considered him as a modest person, but deep inside he had his pride. He didn’t want them to think he intended to take shortcuts.
Chapter 8
The Renaisun-A Joint Defense Conference began on the following afternoon. This was the second time the leaders of the RA gathered together. The first meeting was held in Sunphere, three years ago, right before the Battle of the RA-5. At that time, Geneva’s father was the head of the alliance. A photo of him was hung at the back of the conference room as a commemoration.
Sunphere, Rainprus, Ribbon Islands, and Treagium each had three representatives, who grouped behind several desks with multi-media equipment. King Matthew of Sparkland sat at the front of the room with leaders of the small countries on Planet RA-2. Sterling studied Matthew while the king gave a brief update on the current situation. He had light-brown skin, a long oval face with a pudgy chin baring a short mustache. Thin eyebrows arched high over the round eyes. He reminded Sterling of those kings’ images often found on ancient tombs or in children’s storybooks.
“Six Central Fleets plus nine Imperial Fleets. That adds up to more than three thousand warships. It’s still unclear why Thyphol would suddenly plan for such a large-scale operation.”
The signs were all there, Sterling said to himself.
“Fortunately we still have time to make preparations. I hope by the end of this meeting, we can settle on a practical plan to defend ourselves. Our troops are getting better each time, aren’t they? The recent battle is proof. Anyway, let me start with the proposal from my group. We’ve done simulations with several strategies, and this is the best we’ve come up with.”
The large screen behind Matthew lit up, and so did all the computers on the desks. “First, we hide inside the Stony Band and attack the enemy when they come through. The asteroids provide us with natural concealment and protection. Even if they figure out about our ambush ahead of time, they’ll still have a hard time locating our ships.”
He paused for a few seconds. Seeing some of his audience nodding, he continued, “Once they are through the Stony Band—whatever percentage that is—they will encounter our second defense line, which could be set roughly at Planet RA-5’s orbit. Because Sunphere, Rainprus, and our planet are currently on the other side of the sun, RA-4 would inevitably become the enemy’s first target.” He glanced at the desks where the representatives from Treagium and Ribbon Islands sat. “Our third defense line is set somewhere inside RA-4’s orbit. That can be flexible. Just in case the enemy bypasses RA-4 and targets at the rest of us. And remember, our Stony Band force will come back and strike the enemy from behind. What does everybody think of this arrangement?”
“I think that’s a solid plan,” said Queen Hayleigh, a thin-haired woman in her fifties, “I especially like the ambush inside the Stony Band.”
“We could also set up a minefield right after the Stony Band,” someone from Ribbon Islands added.
Matthew nodded. “Good idea. Having just been raided inside the Stony Band, the enemy would plunge into the minefield before they realize it.”
“How about the Starlight Fortress?” Oakley asked.
“Oh yes!” a cadenced voice said. “We could all hide inside the Fortress and let our citizens deal with the enemy.”
Sterling tracked the sound source and saw a college-aged boy at Hayleigh’s side. He must be the queen’s youngest son, Owen, who was notorious for being spoiled by the queen’s second husband. He had the same square face and bright eyes as his mother, but the springy curls were probably patrilineal.
“Exactly,” Geneva said without looking at Owen. “Wasn’t that the idea when we first agreed to build it?”
Matthew reached out a hand as if trying to suppress the arguments. “The fortress guards our front door and enables us to respond quick
ly to unexpected invasions. The problem is it doesn’t move as swiftly as our fleets do. And since it hasn’t participated in a battle yet, we can’t predict how much of a role it could play, but I’m sure it’ll be a great help to any of our defense lines … Anyone else has comments?”
“It would have been a nice plan if we were stronger than our enemy,” said Charlie Swinburne. Sterling noticed that people seemed to pay more attention to his opinion than to Matthew’s. “But we have fewer ships and certainly lower battle effectiveness—”
Owen let out a snort.
“It would be unwise to further divide our forces and let the enemy outnumber us at every stage.”
Matthew sighed. “I’m aware of this problem, Admiral Swinburne. But remember, we have to protect our people. If we gather all the forces and the enemy breaks through, our planets would be at their mercy. You all know that we can’t count on our ground-to-air defense systems.”
Charlie wanted to argue more, but Jonathan held him back. “What is Sunphere’s opinion?”
“We agree with Admiral Swinburne,” Geneva said. “We shouldn’t divide our forces. And we should take advantage of the fact that the enemy couldn’t come through the Trawtle all at once.”
On the screen behind Matthew, a green line appeared in between the two belligerent systems. It was an Interstellar Pathway, a shortcut in space created by strong interactions between closely spaced stars. A pathway enabled people to travel from one end to the other in practically no time. It used to take months to transport from the RA to the RB prior to the discovery of Pathway Trawtle, which had put whatever cross-system military actions into great disadvantages. That was why, even today, a lot of people still blamed the few astronomers who discovered this pathway.
“You mean to intercept them at the exit?” Matthew asked. “We’ve tried that strategy a few times. We were never able to stop them.”
Geneva turned and looked at Sterling. This was the first time she looked at him since the previous evening.
Sterling stood up reluctantly. “The situation is different now.” He tried to relax under people’s gazes but failed. “Our fortress can sustain more impact than any of our ships. Initially, we could let out a small portion of our enemy. Then we’ll try to stop the rest of them using the fortress. It won’t be able to block them completely, but it’ll buy us time for our fleets to deal with the first group of the enemy. Then we repeat this strategy and may have a better chance to … to drive them back.”
He didn’t say “to defeat them.” Pompey wasn’t a fool and wouldn’t continue the attack once he saw through their trick.
The audience exchanged looks. Some seemed to be convinced, but the majority remained skeptical. “Can’t we just beat them as we did in the last battle?” someone sitting behind Matthew asked tentatively.
Charlie ignored him. “I think this is the best we could do.”
Matthew leaned over to his desk and supported his chin with an arm. He was either pondering on the new plan or waiting for something else to come up.
“It might be the best we could do,” Owen said loudly. “But why don’t we ask for help? There are people out there who don’t even need a plan to beat Thyphol.”
His words stirred the audience. “Artorna! Yes!” “But they signed the Neutral Agreement a few years ago.” “They couldn’t send over forces or sell us weapons, but there are other things they could do.” “They are businessmen. As long as we offer the right price …”
Matthew waited for the clamor to subside. “Great! We’ve made enough progress today. Why don’t we take a break and see each other at dinner?” He then cast Geneva a meaningful look. “Tomorrow we might even have a better strategy.”
* * *
In the evening a banquet was held in the king’s palace. Matthew invited the Sunphereans to sit at his table with his family. Then he was embarrassed when his three daughters, all gaily dressed, told him that they’d decided to mingle with Rainprus’s group, although none of the girls showed the slightest interest in talking to Jonathan.
“It’s all your favorites!” Matthew said to Geneva, a flattering smile on his long face. “Lobster Thermidor, Prime New Saturn Strip, White-Truffle Scallop Pasta, Sparkle Salad … well, the salad is for me. I’m vegetarian.”
He finished his salad quickly and began talking, or soliloquizing, more accurately. He praised Sterling for his unconventional but promising idea; he admired Oakley for his famous Second Fleet; he told them anecdotes of his own officers. Most of the time, he spoke to Geneva like an old family friend. She listened with a sincere interest whenever he mentioned her father, and a sweet patience when he was carried away by anything else.
As the dinner approached the end, people wandered to a nearby room where cocktails were served. After a while, Sterling, Geneva, and Matthew were the only three left at the dining tables, although the two men had long quit eating. Matthew was apparently waiting for a chance to talk to Geneva alone, based on the ambiguous smile on his face, but Sterling acted insensitively.
“Commander Presley,” Sterling heard someone calling from behind. “May I talk to you for a minute?”
He turned around and saw Charlie carrying a small laptop in his hands. If it were anyone else, Sterling would have forged an excuse to stay put, but he wanted to talk to Charlie.
They walked through the chatting people and entered a small meeting room. Charlie gestured Sterling to sit down and locked the door from inside, every movement of his body carrying an artless elegance that could not be learned or imitated. Sterling used to think that aristocrats were no different from regular people, but his opinion had changed since he first saw Charlie on the Caparise.
“I like your idea of blocking the enemy with the fortress.” Charlie sat down and opened his laptop. “But I’m worried about one thing … I couldn’t bring it up at the meeting.” He lowered his voice and said with an urgency that contradicted his leisurely posture. “Your men shouldn’t have left the Fortress.”
The unsettled feeling that had been haunting Sterling’s mind suddenly became clear. If he could see the potential of the fortress, so could Pompey, the guy who was always one step ahead of them in the past. That was why Pompey hadn’t made a real move, and when he did, he must have figured out a way to conquer the fortress.
“We may have to prepare to fight without it,” Charlie said.
Sterling mused for a few seconds. “We could also block them for a while by messing up the Stony Band.”
Charlie smiled and nodded. He then typed on his laptop quickly and showed it to Sterling. “There’s something I want to tell you, but please keep it between you and your boss.”
Sterling took over the laptop and saw a map of the Renaisun-A. Everything looked familiar except a yellow line that started somewhere inside RA-4’s orbit and ended before it reached the Stony Band.
“We call it the Ferry. Our people discovered it a few months ago.”
“Another pathway?” Sterling’s breaths shortened.
Charlie nodded.
To date only three Interstellar Pathways were known to the public. Apart from the Trawtle, there was also a pathway that connected the RA with the RC, and one that connected the RB with the RC. Those were relatively easy to discover because they were lying perfectly on a straight line that connected each pair of suns. Some scholars had predicted that there must be unidentified pathways created jointly by all the four suns in this quadruple system. Every major country thus had its own exploration team that regularly wandered in space, in hopes of bumping into a pathway by chance.
“I’m not sure how this is going to help us.” Charlie wrote down a series of numbers in a small piece of paper and handed it to Sterling. “That’s the location of the Ferry relative to our sun, and my phone number.”
“Thanks!” Sterling tucked the paper into his wallet. In battles, any information unknown to the enemy may bring us an advantage.
Charlie stood up and reached out a hand. “I wish we had met e
arlier, Commander Presley. Feel free to contact me once the battle begins … How is your boss doing?”
Sterling followed him out of the room. “She’s been quite upset since she saw you last time. You don’t want to talk to her?” To Sterling, Charlie was her best choice.
“I’m afraid she’s going to begin another relationship soon.” Seeing Sterling’s puzzlement, he explained. “You know why this meeting always starts in the afternoon? That’s because deals are easier to make at dinner tables.” He threw a contemptuous look at the crowd when they passed by. “Wait and see—those gentlemen—what is the first thing they do when life is threatened.”
* * *
When Sterling returned to the dining room, he saw Geneva taking a nap at the table. A maid and a waiter were standing behind her, seemingly uncertain what to do. He walked over to the table and lifted her up. “Geneva!”
She gradually opened her eyes and murmured, “Shopping …” Then fell back to sleep.
Sterling sighed in disappointment. He had hoped that she could talk to Queen Hayleigh about the fortress, but now … He glanced at the table and asked the waiter, “How many lobsters did she eat?”
“Three during my shift, sir, but might’ve been another one or two before I came … Didn’t count the heads.”
As Sterling and the maid supported Geneva to stand up, he saw the waiter peeking at them with swift eyes and a suppressed smile. “What?”
The waiter hesitated for a second. “You have oceans on your planet, sir?”
“Of course we do!” he yelled back.
Still snickering, the waiter stepped back and lowered his head.
On the way back to their hotel, Geneva woke up in the back seat of the car. “I don’t feel well.” She sounded miserable. “What should I do? My stomach doesn’t feel well …”
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