The Starlight Fortress

by Fiona Rawsontile

  “I am. Something’s wrong?” She checked her appearance without slowing down.

  “Your top’s transparent.”

  “It’s not.”

  “I can see everything!”

  “You’re imagining it.”

  The kitchen staff had started cleaning dishes, but there were still plenty of food left in several containers. He didn’t get to decide what to eat before she filled his plates with brioches, sausages, and fruit compote. She appeared to be in no hurry, but when he walked away to pour himself coffee, he caught a glimpse of her looking at her watch seriously.

  “Where are you taking him?” he asked after they left the kitchen.

  “The beach.”

  “No!” He almost dropped his tray.

  “Why not? My swimwear isn’t transparent.” She smiled mischievously, and he realized she was just teasing him.

  Back to his room, they sat down at a small table. He took a few bites of his breakfast and paused. “I can’t eat when you’re staring at me.”

  She lowered her head.

  “Or when you’re staring at my feet.”

  “What’s the big deal? I get stared at by several maids every time I eat … Fine, I’ll just go.” She rose from her seat and was about to leave. Without thinking, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into a stop.

  He was holding a hand that undoubtedly belonged to someone who never did laundries or dishwashing. Soft, smooth, and flexible. Felt like a little cushion. Not the kind one would associate with wisdom or power. She had thin bones and small knuckles, so overall she must be plumper than she appeared to be …

  He heard her mumbling something about being late but didn’t pay attention. He had gradually lost track of time until sweat built up in between their grip, and with a little jerk she was gone.

  * * *

  Knowing that the metropolitan part of the city wouldn’t impress Edwards, Geneva took him to an orchard. Sunphere had the best soil one could find in this quadruple system. Certain plants wouldn’t even blossom if they were transferred to other places. Edwards showed a great interest in every fruit he saw, but she couldn’t tell whether it was related to passion or business. Or maybe passion and business were indistinguishable to him.

  There was a restaurant inside the garden, one of her father’s favorites. The last time she came here with him was two years ago, when she graduated with her master’s degree. They were sitting at the same table as she was now, in a corner separated from other tables by a small fountain. Her father had hinted that, since she was out of college, it might be time to give some thought to her relationship with Anthony. What did she tell him then? That she’d never consider a political marriage? She remembered he made no comment but smiled bitterly.

  “What’s this, some kind of honey melon?” Edwards picked up a piece of fruit with his fork.

  She leaned over to see it. “No, it’s actually an apple.” She called over the waiter and let him bring a whole sample.

  “Wow, it’s huge! Like a pumpkin.” Edwards held the fruit up with two hands and smelled it. “Delicious! I wonder why we never imported it.”

  “It’s difficult to preserve, however you wax or wrap it. Even here we don’t sell it in the market. You have to pick it up from a farm.”

  “But there has to be some way to do it …” He stared at the fruit and sank into meditation.

  How was Sterling doing? She wondered as she ate her salad. Was he starving in his room?

  After they finished salads, the entrées hadn’t arrived yet. He smiled apologetically. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning, Geneva. Shall we …”

  “Sure.” Time for business. They set the plates aside, and each took out a pen and a notebook.

  “Matthew mentioned to me about your situation,” he said, randomly drawing on the margins of his notebook. “I wish we could help, but we can’t send over our fleets according to the Neutral Agreement. And to be honest, we wouldn’t do that no matter what. Our people value the peace we have now and wouldn’t want anything to do with this war.”

  Geneva wasn’t surprised at his argument. “I understand, Edwards, but you should know that our people don’t want anything to do with the war either. And you think Pompey would be satisfied if one day he took over our system? When that happens, whom would you ask for help?”

  Edwards looked up from his notebook, seemingly unprepared to the change of her attitude. She hadn’t talked to him like that since he came. “I’m not saying we won’t do anything. We can’t send over troops, but maybe you’ll find some of our ships useful.”

  “Didn’t the Neutral Agreement say you can’t sell armaments to us?”

  “We can’t sell, but it doesn’t say we can’t donate.”

  That was what she was waiting for. “Which models are you thinking of?”

  “Given the limited time, the Bocconies might be a practical option.”

  The Boccony-class destroyers were more advanced than Sunphere’s Sumattacks, but they had similar functions. “We are more interested in the Octuprays,” she said.

  “Hmm …” He hesitated.

  Although Artorna had never been engaged in a major war, its abundant resources and budgets had secured its leading position in military research for decades. Last year the whole world was appalled when they had a field exercise in the space adjacent to Planet RC-4. Equipped with their newly invented All-Direction Propellers, the Octuprays were able to move swiftly in eccentric trajectories and change directions arbitrarily.

  The waiter came to serve the entrées. Geneva and Edwards put away their notes and ate quietly for a while. Was he readjusting his strategy for the next run? She could almost hear the gears switching inside his head.

  “You must have looked really cute when you were a kid.” He gazed at her after he was done eating. “I wish I could have a daughter like you. I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

  She smiled politely. She heard that kind of “praises” from people all the time. What had gone wrong? Was she ever going to grow out of that youthful look?

  “Honestly, Geneva, I feel bad for you.” The sympathy in his eyes was genuine. “If you were my sister, I’d never let you do this. I know you don’t like me. I’m not the type of guy that naturally appeals to women. But if we do choose to be with each other, at least I’ll be a responsible husband, and you won’t need to worry about things that make you unhappy.”

  That was just his strategy. She told herself to remain a cool head. Nonetheless, she was touched.

  * * *

  In the evening, a banquet was held in the honor of the foreign guests. While Geneva tried to make the guests feel at ease, she herself was a little nervous. She could sense the helplessness of her people under their well-maintained normalcy, a type of collective expectation and curiosity in regard to her newly developed relationship. William played more of a host than she did. His witty welcome toast received applauses and laughter several times; the dance with his wife had exceeded expert-level performance.

  After a while when the music and chats had grown louder, Geneva excused herself from the guests and went on to find Oakley.

  “May I have a minute with you, sir?” She wondered what Oakley had intended to discuss on the previous day.

  They left the house and entered a garden. It turned out that Oakley wanted Rafael to direct his Second Fleet for the upcoming battle, which had caused strong disputations from other officers.

  “He should’ve been promoted Rear Admiral a long time ago,” Oakley said.

  “Even if he were,” Geneva said, “he’d still be commanding several of his superiors. Is it possible to make him an assistant when you need opinions?”

  Oakley shook his head. “It’s not quite the same. Regardless of the commanding efficiency, sometimes we have to be officially put into a position in order for us to think from that position.”

  Geneva thought she could understand. She also had consultants in various areas, but they were never able to look at an issue from th
e same perspective she held. “I know his promotion has been an issue for a while. Why haven’t you sent him to the Academy? Some of our officers got their college degrees after they were commissioned.”

  “I’ve offered, but he didn’t want to. He said it’s going to ruin him.”

  She smiled bitterly. So that was a unique case, almost opposite to Sterling’s. Nobody could disregard Rafael’s talent, but he somehow distinguished himself in a nontraditional way.

  They stood in the cool air for a moment.

  “I heard they call it the Starfish?” She looked up at the sky. Located further than Planet RA-5’s orbit, the fortress was nowhere to be seen with the naked eye. But browsing through the stars, she could feel its existence among them. The ground was behind her. Gravity became unreliable. In any moment she could be thrown to the space, to face the gigantic manmade structure, and watch the five metal limbs rotating.

  She turned around and resumed their walk. “When we examine our society, sir, we see different types of achievements. People who haven’t received much education succeed all the time. Maybe he’s right. If he were to go through the Academy, he might end up being mediocre. So we’ll promote him to Rear Admiral, Lower Half, and you can let him command your fleet.”

  Oakley slowed down and looked at her. “We don’t need to follow the rules anymore, ma’am?”

  “Not when our enemy doesn’t.”

  He smiled, and together they sped up toward the house.

  * * *

  She was on her way to the ballroom when she saw her cousin, Calvin, entering a balcony ahead. Calvin was in his sophomore year at a university in Rainprus. She hadn’t talked to him for months and wondered if he had decided on his major. But as she approached the balcony, she heard Lloyd’s angry voice.

  “Biology? So … so you’re going to spend your life in a lab or something? How can I make you understand, Calvin? Do you know how many young aspirants out there would give up everything in exchange for your background? You could easily start from a point they’d never reach in their entire life.”

  “I don’t care, dad. I like biology. That’s where my passion lies. Oh, did I mention I hate politicians?”

  “What? You hate … you mean you hate me?”

  Knowing it wouldn’t be a good time to encounter either of them, Geneva quietly backed up and walked away. At the entrance of the ballroom, she ran into Fernando, who was holding a tall glass of juice in his hand.

  “Fernando, are there other adults drinking juice with you?”

  “Mrs. Coles.”

  “She’s pregnant!”

  Ripples spread out as he grinned. “You know I’m allergic to alcohol, boss.”

  Geneva chuckled. “So your trip went okay?”

  “Yes, uh, but I don’t think this is a good time …”

  “It is.” She wanted to know it badly.

  They entered a balcony on the other side of the ballroom. Fernando took out a pocket notebook and showed her a page.

  “That’s the high school my mother went to,” she said in perplexity.

  “I talked to people in Quincy’s hometown. One family had lived there since he was born. They told me one thing that’s missing in Quincy’s record. When he was seventeen, his parents were going through a divorce. So he actually stayed in Swingfield with his grandparents for about a year.”

  “Here? When was that?”

  “From Fall ’87 to the following spring.”

  A quick calculation made her gasp. “My mother was also there at the same time! So they might have known each other?”

  And Charlie might be right—the assassination could’ve been personal spite, but she was reluctant to link her mother to the guy she hated the most in the world. “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”

  Fernando lifted his eyebrows briefly and continued, “Yesterday I went to the school and asked about those teachers who worked there thirty years ago. They’re all retired, of course, but I might be able to track down some of them, if …” He gazed at her.

  “Good!” she said. Something nasty stirred in her stomach, but she tried to ignore it.

  “Boss,” Fernando lowered his voice. “Is this something you really want me to find out?”

  “Of course! I need to know the truth,” she said defiantly.

  * * *

  Some guests had left when they returned to the ballroom, but those who remained were in a high mood. There was excitement in the way they talked about the upcoming invasion, a let’s-face-it-if-we-have-to kind of enthusiasm. Geneva looked around but failed to spot Sterling. The air around her face was balmy. The thickened smell of beverage gave her a drunken feeling.

  “Looking for your boyfriend?” Fernando asked, picking up another glass of juice from the refreshment table.

  “Stop telling people he’s my boyfriend!” For a moment she was glad their voices were buried in the noise. For another moment she wanted to shout in front of a microphone.

  “I was just trying to help,” he said after he finished his drink. “I don’t understand why you like him, though. He’s quite a lamb.”

  Before Geneva said anything back, she heard somebody raving in the room. There was a group of people gathering at the back of the ballroom. As she moved closer, she could make out two men standing inside the circle and arguing with each other.

  “We discovered the Trawtle first. We did!” Wilson had apparently consumed more wine than he could handle, his large beard a tangled mess. “By one of our K-series Pathway Finders. Even little kids know that story—how that jerky young guy wandered in space with all the satellites around his ship and suddenly found one missing.”

  “I’m not saying you didn’t find it on your own,” Admiral Huang said with an indifferent tone. He was a man in his fifties with few wrinkles on his round face. Controlling one’s emotion might be the secret to stay young, Geneva thought while she joined the circle.

  “But Ribbon Islands discovered it a year earlier,” Huang continued. “They kept it a secret.”

  “I don’t think it matters which country located it first,” Edwards said to Huang.

  But Wilson didn’t give up. “Anybody could say that ex-post facto.”

  “I think he’s right, sir,” Geneva said. “They have documentations to prove it.”

  Wilson swung around, but when he saw Geneva he calmed down a little. “Fine, I let them take the credit.” he turned back to Huang. “But you said they did the Lunar Hill Raid? That’s ridiculous!”

  The Lunar Hill Raid … Geneva had a faint memory that it was related to a mysterious attack on one of Thyphol’s bases ten years ago.

  “It makes perfect sense.” Huang’s face remained expressionless. “They used the pathway.”

  Wilson sneered. “I don’t think Ribbon Islands will ever have the guts to attack Thyphol alone. They are good swimmers and fast runners. Fastest, champion in the world …”

  “They did, sir.” A familiar voice sounded behind Geneva. “A shipwreck was recently discovered in a harbor near the hill. It had their insignia.”

  Finally … Geneva exhaled. It seemed that a whole century had passed by since they saw each other at breakfast.

  “Did I ask your opinion, Commander Presley?” Wilson’s suppressed anger finally had an outlet. “Do you have to demonstrate your knowledge every time you get a chance? Always bla bla bla … You think being the queen’s boyfriend gives you the privilege to overstep everybody?”

  For a while, nobody in the circle showed the slightest movement. Geneva’s face was burning under Edwards’s fiery gaze.

  Wilson looked around in puzzlement. Then he opened his mouth and hit his forehead with a hand. “I see! That’s why Ribbon Islands’ moon base was smashed recently. A revenge!” He pushed his way out through the circle and quickly disappeared at the exit. The rest of the crowd stood in quiet. The waltz that had been smoothly floating in the background suddenly sounded invasive.

  “Nobody cares for dancing?” William walked in
with an innocent smile, but Geneva knew he must have learned what happened. “Your Highness, would you like another waltz with Her Majesty?”

  “I don’t know,” Edwards said flatly. “Do I have permission from her boyfriend?”

  “Her ex-boyfriend, I think?” William gazed at Geneva.

  “Ur,” Geneva stammered. “Actually, there’s never been a real …”

  “Whatever our relationship is has nothing to do with you,” Sterling said to Edwards. “If you come here for friendship or business, you’re welcome. Don’t expect anything else.”

  “Sterling!” Geneva was stunned, turning back to look at him. “What’s going on with you? Go back to your room!”

  “Wait, what?” Edwards said to her. “So he actually lives here!” He almost laughed. “Did you sleep with him last night?”

  “No.” Sterling walked past Geneva. “But I don’t see a problem if she did. It would’ve been called dating, not some kind of … royal prostitution.”

  “Oh god …” Geneva buried her face in her hands.

  “All right, fine,” she heard Edwards saying. “I’m glad you told me the truth. Seeing you here in her house is better than seeing you later in my house … I guess I should find myself a hotel then. I don’t want to impose.”

  “Your Highness.” William stepped in between the two men. Geneva didn’t dare to check his face. “It would be my honor to have you stay in my place. And I apologize for all the inconvenience.”

  * * *

  Geneva stood outside for a while when everybody left the party. Then she went back to the front hall and dragged herself up the stairway, mentally exhausted. She bumped into Sterling in front of his room. He was leaving with his bag on the shoulders.

  “You leaving now?” A stupid question, but she didn’t know what else to say.

  “My mission’s over,” he said quickly as he walked past her.

  “You have a place to stay?”

  “Everything’s in my bag. Nobody sent me here.”