The Hidden World

by Melinda Snodgrass

  “This has been lovely, but I really should go to the governor’s mansion and tell them… I’m back.” She forced a smile.

  “Not until I’ve checked you over one last time. You’re still my patient,” Dalea said firmly.

  “All right.”

  “Let’s go into the ladies,” the Hajin said.

  Luis laid a hand briefly on Tracy’s shoulder. “I hope someday I get to love somebody the way you two love each other. I’m sorry, compañero.” He abruptly left the table.

  It seemed like a long time before Dalea and Mercedes returned. His lady’s expression was odd and she seemed to be looking past him. “Everything all right?” he asked.

  “Yes. Perfect.” She swept the table with a long, fond look. “Thank you all. For everything. I won’t forget.”

  They stood and were in that awkward moment when a party is breaking up and nobody really wants it to end. “I’ll take you to the mansion,” Tracy said.

  “No. Let’s not tempt fate. Right now I can report that I was rescued by Captain Oliver Randall and his crew. If you’re seen that lie won’t stand.”

  “Maybe we should be in Fold and conveniently out of touch for a few days,” Jahan said.

  “I second that suggestion,” the holographic Jax said.

  “We’ll meet you onboard, Captain,” Jahan said and she led the crew out of the restaurant.

  Mercedes took his arm and they went outside and called for a taxi. The flitter arrived and dropped to the ground in front of them. The door opened and they stood gazing at each other. A foot separated them. It might have been light years.

  “Well, goodbye,” Mercedes said, and started to reach out her hand.

  Tracy swallowed several times. Somehow his saliva had turned to glass. He bowed. Suddenly Mercedes flung herself into his arms and pressed her lips against his. She pulled away even as his hands clung to her, and jumped into the flitter. He watched until it was a distant speck.

  He sat on the tram to the spaceport, arms folded tight across his aching gut. He thought his heart had shattered at eighteen when she told him she would marry Boho. At twenty-one it had been torn from his chest when he had been forced to watch the video feed of the marriage ceremony. He now knew that he had never actually experienced utter devastation.

  Tracy made his way to the ship and climbed wearily up the ramp. His eyes were filled with grit and fire, every bone and muscle ached. Jahan was waiting for him in the cargo bay. She hopped off the crate where she had been sitting grooming her fur.

  “So, she’s gone?”

  “Yes.”

  “You gonna survive?”

  “What choice do I have?”

  * * *

  The call from the governor’s mansion had Boho running for the space elevator with his security detail trotting along behind. “We have a shuttle waiting at the equatorial pad to take you immediately to Shuushuram,” Captain Wilson reported as they commandeered a capsule for their private use and began the descent to the planet.

  When Mercedes’ image had appeared on the screen his first reaction had been shock at the sight of her shorn hair, then a relief so great it left him weak-kneed, followed by a twinge of disappointment that locating her had ended up being so anticlimactic. No daring rescue, no nefarious parties unknown, just her walking in off the street as if she hadn’t gone missing for several weeks. He didn’t bother to wait for explanations. Reaching her side was more important.

  An hour and a half later he was being bowed into the family quarters at the governor’s mansion. Mercedes was drinking tea with the governor’s wife and clearly wearing one of the lady’s dresses since it was too tight across the bust and the hem was above her ankles. She set aside her cup and stood as he crossed the room in three long strides and clutched her tightly to his breast. He bent to kiss her and for an instant it seemed she was about to turn aside, but then she lifted her chin and pressed her lips to his.

  “Mercedes, Mercedes, I was so worried. Are you well?”

  “Yes, still a bit tired from the cold sleep, but nothing serious.”

  “You need to be seen by a doctor.”

  “Governor Marquis Darmali has sent for his personal physician, but I would far rather see my own physician, and really, I’m fine. I’m just so glad to see you.”

  Boho took Mercedes’ hand, and moved to greet his hostess. “My lady, forgive my rudeness in not greeting you immediately.”

  She was a rather ordinary-looking woman though she did have a mass of tumbling curls that matched her mahogany skin. “Oh, please, my lord, give it no thought. It was so moving to witness your reunion. I’ll leave you two.” She paused at the door. “My seamstress is on her way, Highness. I’ll have a servant inform you when she arrives.”

  “Thank you, Tali, you are so good to me.”

  The doors closed behind the marquess and Mercedes drew him over to a love seat and pulled him down next to her. “So, tell me everything. I assume you went to my last coordinates.”

  “Yes. I’ve already got Colony Services handling applications for settlement.”

  “How did the locals react?” she asked.

  “You won’t believe it – they had all killed themselves. We had to use burn pits to get rid of the bodies. By now the ships I left behind should have finished the job. Our settlers can move right in.”

  Mercedes stared down at her tightly clasped hands. “So they are reduced to ashes. No names to be remembered and mourned. How awful that they thought death was preferable to us.”

  “They made that choice,” Boho said. “And made certain there would be no one to mourn them by killing their children. They’re not worth your worry or grief.”

  “Not so for my hombres and fusileros,” Mercedes said.

  “But what happened to you, Mer? Who found you? How did you end up on Cuandru?”

  “How did you?” she countered.

  “Just luck. I returned to Ouranos, gathered more ships, and thought this was a central location from which to search. So, who did find you and why did you take so long to return?”

  “A little trading vessel. They picked up the signal from my life capsule and went to investigate.”

  “How did they get the signal if they were in Fold?” Boho asked.

  “They had a problem with the Folddrive and had dropped back into normal space.”

  “And the delay?” he pressed.

  “Would you have wanted to face this particular music?” she asked. “I let them finish their delivery before I had them bring me to Cuandru.” She offered nothing more.

  After a few moments of silence Boho said, “Luck has played a part for both of us, it seems.”

  “Yes,” she said. She stood and pulled him to his feet. “Boho, take me to bed. I’m tired and sad and I’ve missed you. Help me forget for just a little while.”

  “Mi amado,” he whispered and kissed the palms of her hands.

  * * *

  Boho slept beside her. Interestingly his snores were less shattering than Tracy’s. She would have to have earplugs if—She quashed the thought. It was never going to be. She had wondered if she would hate having sex with Boho, but their coupling had left her singularly unaffected. It was duty so it had no power to either hurt or delight. It was also absolutely necessary and she found herself grateful that Boho had always paid very little attention to her reactions, physical or emotional.

  She stared up at the embroidered canopy on the bed and laid a hand gently on her belly. What will you be like, little one? Who will you take after? And someday, I promise, I’ll tell you about your father.

  24

  WE ALL PLAY OUR ROLES

  Four days in Fold. Four days to make love and for her to avoid an examination by the ship’s physician. She used the excuse she had used about seeing the governor’s doctor—she preferred to see her family doctor back in Hissilek. Four days in which to answer his questions about her rescuers. To feign indifference. “The captain? Oh, just some intitulado named Randall. The
crew? I didn’t spend much time with them. I mostly took my meals in the cabin. Where did Randall sleep? I have no idea. I presume with one of the crew. Should he be questioned? For what purpose? I’m safely back.” Mercifully he had let it drop.

  The worst part had been being back on a military vessel. When she did emerge from the cabin she found her mind superimposing the faces of her dead crew onto the faces of the living men and handful of women who served aboard Boho’s flagship. Her forays into the corridors became less frequent. Tracy was right, she did need counseling. But could the heir to the throne show such emotional weakness? She couldn’t dodge the dinners at the captain’s table. She sat trying to eat and hoping no one would notice her lack of appetite. Partly it was grief and guilt. Partly it was due to the fetus now growing inside her.

  On the last night in Fold Boho traced her nipples with a forefinger and looked thoughtful.

  “Your nipples look different, darker, and your breasts—” he cupped one in his hand and noted how she flinched “—seem very sensitive.”

  Mercedes dropped her gaze, hoping it seemed demure and not guilty, and ran her fingers through his chest hair. “Well, there might be a reason, my darling. I’ve been feeling…” She laid a hand on her stomach. “I think I might be…” She allowed her voice to trail away suggestively.

  “Madre de Dios, you don’t mean… This is wonderful!” He kissed her and gathered her tightly in his arms. “I can see why you didn’t want some O-Trell doc pawing at you. You need to be handled like glass. This is going to make everything better—” He broke off abruptly.

  “And worse?” Mercedes suggested.

  “You’ve never been a fool, my love. With this news Musa and Mihalis will know the throne is forever beyond their reach.” He laid a hand on her belly. “I do hope it’s not a girl. Makes everything easier if you give me a son.”

  “Well, there’s nothing I can do about it now,” she said and managed a chuckle.

  “I don’t want you going to the gym or riding once we get home.”

  “And while I appreciate the affection that is behind that really stupid statement, I’m going to do what my doctors tell me and I’m pretty certain they aren’t going to want me wrapped in velvet and placed in a cage.” Mercedes smiled and their eyes locked.

  Boho looked away first and gave a short laugh. “I’m sorry. Of course you’re right. It’s just that we’ve been waiting so long for this. And the old man is going to be over the moons about it.”

  “Let’s see the doctor first before we make any announcement.”

  “Of course.”

  The next day they translated back into normal space and Boho sent a message to the palace to send the royal pinnace and Dr. Mueller to meet the flagship. A day and a half later the two ships converged, matched trajectory, and an umbilical was attached between the airlocks. It was a parade of people disembarking from the flagship onto the pinnace. Hombres with Boho’s luggage, Boho’s batBEM, then Mercedes and Boho. Despite the fact the umbilical was fully atmosphered Mercedes and Boho both wore spacesuits. No one else bothered, trusting to the reliable technology. Of course, none of them were the consort and the pregnant heir to the throne. Inside the confines of her helmet Mercedes’ breaths seemed loud, and beyond the clear walls the stars were diamond bright and the sun a distant point of glowing yellow. They drifted into the airlock of the pinnace. Since the pressure had already equalized the inner door of the airlock was open and the captain of the pinnace stood at attention. With him were Captain Lord Ian Rogers, head of her security detail, a young Hajin serving woman and Dr. Agnes Mueller all awaiting their arrival.

  Mueller had replaced Mercedes’ previous doctor once Sandra got too old to continue working. Sandra had been from Reichart’s World where female doctors were very common, and Agnes was from Yggdrasil, another assimilated Hidden World, where women worked in professions that in the League were traditionally male. Since both planets had been assimilated into the League for years Mercedes wondered how long it would be before the women of her class were forced to use male doctors. The conservatives would have to hope the League would find more Hidden Worlds where women had medical careers if they were to preserve their wives and daughters’ modesty.

  And ones where the people don’t commit suicide rather than submit, Mercedes thought and shivered.

  The young Hajin assisted Mercedes in removing her helmet. The presence of the alien brought to mind Mercedes’ servant, Tako, lost like all the rest of the crew aboard her flagship, and all the men and batBEMs who had been aboard the other ships. That reminder, together with her memories of the bodies on Kusatsu-Shirane, hit with devastating effect. She gagged, bent from the waist, and vomited.

  Dr. Mueller, forehead creased with worry, moved to her side. Mercedes waved her off. “I’m all right. Just a bit nauseous from freefall.” She gave the captain of the pinnace an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry for the mess.”

  “Not to worry, Highness. Venia—” he waved at the Hajin “—will accompany you to your cabin.”

  “I’d like you to come too, Doctor,” Boho said to Mueller.

  “If Your Majesty will permit,” the alien murmured and indicated the benches set next to the airlock. Mercedes allowed the Hajin to pull the bottom of her suit down over her hips. She then sat down so the maid could slide it off her legs. One of Rogers’ fusileros gathered up the discarded suits and began placing them in their lockers. Venia bowed and led them to the royal cabin. The composite walls had been veneered with sek wood, a chandelier hung from the ceiling, and the bed was a large, embossed, canopied affair. The pinnace had been built for her grandfather and it reflected his rather ostentatious taste.

  Once the door closed, Mueller put her hands on her hips and gave Mercedes a severe look. “Now no more of this nonsense about freefall sickness.”

  Before Mercedes could try to explain it was guilt, Boho said, “The Infanta thinks she might be pregnant.”

  “Easy enough to find out,” said the doctor. She rummaged in her holdall and produced a pregnancy test strip.

  “Really, nothing more high-tech? You’re a doctor,” Boho said. “Years ago I bought one of these in a farmacia.”

  “Let’s see.” The doctor ticked off on her fingers. “Cheap, reliable, and idiot-proof. Why would we mess with that?” Mercedes laughed. Boho harrumphed. Agnes turned to Mercedes. “Pee on it. Wait two minutes or thereabouts. If it’s been less than five days you will probably get a negative reading and should re-test in a few days.”

  Mercedes took the strip and went into the bathroom. As she pulled up her skirt, pulled down her panties, she did a quick count. It had been five days since the copulating they had done at the governor’s mansion. She just prayed that Boho didn’t do research and discover that the changes he had observed wouldn’t normally appear this quickly.

  She then realized that God might not be too happy with either her infidelity or that she was going to pass off another man’s child as her husband’s. She pushed aside the brief flare of guilt. It was clear she and Boho were never going to conceive. Just as marrying Boho had been her duty, having a child was also her duty. She just hoped the baby wouldn’t be fair-haired. She sat down on the toilet, and immediately felt like she had been lost in the desert for days. She stood, shuffled over to the sink, and turned on the water. Sat back down. Finally, she managed to squeeze out some urine. The strip turned bright pink. A few minutes later a plus appeared in the read window.

  She returned to the room and handed the strip to Agnes and flowed into Boho’s arms.

  “Yep, you’re pregnant,” the doctor said prosaically.

  * * *

  They should have been prepared. A perusal of the news feeds during their journey from the flagship to Ouranos had revealed that the del Campos had been busy. Either the governor or someone on his staff had blabbed to the press that Mercedes had been found. Alone. The news was filled with speculation about the location of the strike force and the crews who had served aboard t
he ships. They ranged from theories that they had been left to claim a particularly salubrious world, that they had been taken prisoner by forces unknown, that they had mutinied and allowed Mercedes to leave in order to relay their demands to the Emperor. The bleakest assessment was from an outlet known to be highly critical of the crown. They had concluded that the crews were dead.

  “Maybe we should have given a press conference on Cuandru,” Boho had suggested, only to be cut off by Mercedes saying sharply, “Without the spin doctors to help us craft the message? That wouldn’t have been wise.” He had felt himself bristle. He had been told pregnancy mellowed a woman. So far Mercedes seemed to be resisting. She seemed to have sensed his ruffled feathers, and had given him a quick smile and gently added, “Besides now we have news that might help shift the focus.”

  “A most providential baby,” Boho had said with a smile and laid a hand on her stomach.

  Now they were in one of the palace flitters being pelted with rocks and any vegetable that could provide a satisfying splat as they made their way from the spaceport to the Palacio Colina. It wasn’t a large crowd, but the press outnumbered the constabulary, which suggested Arturo’s deft touch. Demonstrations were technically legal, but carefully controlled, requiring a number of permits, and payment for security (further indication that the del Campos were behind this; no doubt they were footing the bill), and were limited to official protest sites. This avenue leading to the mansions of the FFH and the royal enclave was not one of the approved sites. Boho was surprised that Anselmo hadn’t managed to have a counter protest arranged given his organizational skills. It suggested Arturo had managed to spring this on the palace.

  Boho looked over at Mercedes. Her jaw was tight, expression bleak. Yet, despite her unhappiness, there was a glow about her. He had never been able to closely observe his lovers when they had been breeding. This was a new experience.