by David Drake
She laughed. “You really don’t know, do you? As it happens, cluster commanders rate pretty good quarters—and while you obviously haven’t given it any thought, your wife is quite wealthy.”
Merikur hadn’t thought about it, but he realized she was right. His new rank plus allowances meant he was quite well off. And while of course she was wealthy, he hadn’t considered that either . . .
He laughed self-consciously. “I’m afraid you’re right. The, ah, the new job keeps me pretty busy.”
Suddenly anxious not to break the mood he said, “The villa is absolutely wonderful. How did you find it?”
She leaned over to pour him some more wine, and he caught the scent of her, the faintest hint of feminine muskiness mixed with some subtle perfume. The effect brought catnip to his mind. He found his eyes drawn down the curve of her cheek to the fullness of her lips
“It was quite easy actually. When the new governor is your uncle and the planet’s ranking military officer is your husband, real estate agents line up to assist you.”
He laughed and took a sip of wine.
“Anson?”
Merikur mentally sat up and took notice. To the best of his recollection, this was the first time she’d ever used his first name. Up until now she’d always called him “General.” Looking at her, he didn’t care what she called him. Bethany was so beautiful it hurt.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry. I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Please accept my apologies for the things I’ve said. It’s not your fault Spencer and I were separated.” She looked at her fingers. “Damn, it seems like I’m always apologizing, and then doing something stupid to apologize for.”
“Not at all,” Merikur replied. “You and your . . . ex-husband were separated against your wills. That’s a fact and it’s better to discuss it than pretend it doesn’t exist.”
“Really?” Her brown eyes flicked across his face as if searching for reassurance.
“Really. Perhaps we could be friends, you and I.”
“Oh, Anson I’d hoped you might feel that way. It’s so much better than enemies, isn’t it? And I’ll try to hold up my end. I’m a pretty good businesswoman, really I am, and that’s what we have isn’t it? A partnership. And if you want someone on the side, well, why not? My father always had a mistress or two . . . and my mother was absolutely notorious.”
She was so eager, and so sincere he could do little more than smile and nod. A mistress, by God. He didn’t want a mistress . . . he wasn’t quite sure when it had happened, but he wanted her. But divorced or not, the memory of her ex-husband was powerful enough to reach across the light years and hold her captive.
Merikur forced a smile. “I’m kind of busy right now, but if I need a mistress, I’ll let you know. Maybe you’d be kind enough to pick one out for me?”
Bethany laughed, obviously relieved. “Of course! It’s the least I could do! Ah, here’s our lunch.”
It was soon apparent that Bethany would be a valuable ally. For one thing she paid attention to things he tended to ignore. This became painfully apparent when he asked about the two members of the Governor’s Hundred lurking about the premises.
She looked surprised. “You don’t know? Of course you don’t. You’re a prime target for assassination, silly. By killing you, my uncle’s enemies make him more vulnerable. I pointed that out to Eitor, and he sent the guards over right away.”
“I suppose,” Merikur agreed doubtfully. “But why waste the guards? A squad of marines would do just as well.”
Bethany shook her head sadly. “Not so. If you have a squad of marines hanging around, it looks like you’re scared. Then they really come after you.”
“Or you,” Merikur said suddenly concerned. “They might try to hurt you to get at me.”
“Or my uncle,” Bethany agreed gently. “That’s how these things work.”
Merikur suddenly found himself plunged into a world he didn’t understand. Invisible enemies, plot and counterplot, suspicion and deception. Bethany had been raised in an atmosphere of senatorial intrigue, so it was second nature to her, but Merikur had always met his enemies head on with repulsors blazing . . .
They talked the afternoon away, some of it business, some of it not.
By the time the shadows grew long, they were ready to watch the sun plunge down beyond the far horizon as friends.
Chapter 5
Stepping out of the limo, Merikur and Bethany nodded to some functionaries, and started up the wide flight of stairs toward the governor’s mansion. Tomorrow it would be Windsor’s, but tonight it still belonged to Governor Trent and he was throwing himself a going-away party. Bethany’s hand felt light on his arm, and in spite of the fact that she wasn’t really his, Merikur felt proud to be with her.
The crowd parted to let them through as they moved up the stairs. Officers moved to get out of Merikur’s way, women craned their necks to see him—and everyone stared at Bethany.
She wore a gown of shimmering pink and blue. It seemed to shift with the light, almost transparent one moment, and completely opaque the next.
To Merikur’s amazement, she seemed to know everyone, calling them by name, and whispering little asides in his ear. “That’s Captain Asta’s wife. She wants him transferred dirtside to spend more time with her, but he doesn’t want to go. Can’t say as I blame him. Oh, and that man over there, the one with the white goatee. That’s Citizen Solakof. Very big in planetary politics. Wants to meet you in the worst way. Be careful though. He uses a lot of alien labor in his sweatshops. Uh oh, there’s one to watch, Nola Rankoo and her husband Coda. She runs the Haiken Maru hereabouts.”
Merikur had a quick glimpse of a woman who towered above the crowd. With her was a beefy-looking man who looked ready to burst out of his evening clothes. As the couple disappeared inside, they reminded him of his security problems.
It was Trent’s party, so Windsor and his staff had no control over the guest list. In addition to which, the former governor was far from cooperative. Calling their precautions “hysterical,” he’d refused their requests for a routine security sweep of the mansion and only grudgingly allowed the guards access to the grounds. All Merikur could do was beef up security and hope for the best. A destroyer sat in geosynchronous orbit over the mansion, aerospace fighters skimmed the edge of space, and attack helicopters patrolled a few hundred feet up.
Marines were scattered around the grounds with orders to keep a low profile. Another fifty or so were inside. They were disguised as servants, and while they’d be handy in a brawl, they wouldn’t be much help if someone pulled a weapon. Since marines aren’t trained for security work, they were unarmed. The last thing Merikur wanted was some marine with a repulsor hosing down half the guest list to nail a possible assassin.
And then there was the Governor’s Hundred. Unlike the regular marines, they were trained for this sort of situation and were heavily armed. Six wore identical gray suits and would stay close to Windsor at all times. Besides screening the senator with their bodies, Merikur hoped they’d intimidate any would-be assassins as well. If not, the rest of the unit would be nearby, disguised as servants and guests.
As they stepped through huge double doors, Merikur knew hidden scanners were sweeping over him and locating the hand gun concealed under his dress tunic. A fraction of a second later, they would scan his retinas and crosscheck the electronic code provided by his AID. Anyone who failed these checks would be arrested whether Trent liked it or not. It wasn’t perfect, but without Trent’s cooperation, it was the best he could do.
“General Anson Merikur and his wife, Bethany Windsor-Merikur, Baroness of Skeed.” As he finished the announcement, Trent’s majordomo brought his ceremonial staff down with a heavy thud.
As they descended a short flight of stairs into the main ballroom, Merikur pretended to smile and talked from the side of his mouth. “Baroness of Skeed? You’re a baroness?”
“Of course. I thought you knew. These
days it’s just an honorary title, but good for thirty thousand credits a year nonetheless.”
Realizing all over again that he knew very little about his new wife, Merikur looked out at the ballroom and was amazed by the spectacle of it all. Hundreds of people and no small number of aliens filled the room. Brightly colored gowns fought to capture his eyes, a hundred perfumes assailed his nostrils, and the hum of conversation filled his ears.
As usual, he wanted to run. As a junior officer, he had run, making his appearance, then slipping away. Now the golden comets on his shoulders weighed a ton apiece and held him in place.
Long slim fingers suddenly squeezed his while warm lips brushed his right ear. “Relax, Anson. Just remember, you scare them more than they scare you.”
She knew! She cared! The thought warmed him through and through but was soon lost in the crush.
“General Merikur, I’d like you to meet so and so.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t ask, General, but all the girls want to know, why is your hair white?”
“No offense, General, but this alien equality stuff is rubbish. I trust you believe in keeping the trolls in their place?”
“General, it’s my pleasure to introduce Nola Rankoo, and her husband Coda.”
The crowd faded into the background as Merikur gave Nola Rankoo his full attention.
It would have been hard not to. The woman was huge. A full foot taller than him. The hair coiled on top of her head added to the impression of height; her red evening gown consisted of more skin than cloth, revealing large sections of her muscular body. There was no artifice about her. She was exactly what she seemed.
A powerful and dangerous woman.
And not just because of her size. Even greater danger lay in her eyes. She was an enemy, and they both knew it. Her hand closed around his with bone-crushing strength. “Welcome to Augustine, General. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Merikur tried to ignore the pain. She wanted him to withdraw, to admit his weakness, but his pride wouldn’t allow it. Forcing a smile he said, “All good, I trust. My, that’s a beautiful necklace. May I see it?”
Placing his right boot on her left foot, he stepped forward while shifting all his weight to that foot. His left hand went up to touch her heavy necklace. With one movement of his hand he could choke her with it. He saw her wince.
Rankoo let go of his hand and he took a step back. Coda moved in but stopped when his wife held up a hand.
“As you were, Coda. The general and I were just getting acquainted. It’s been a pleasure, General. I hope you’ll live long enough to have dinner with us sometime.”
“I’m impressed,” Bethany said as Rankoo and Coda moved away. “You certainly have a way with women.”
Merikur responded absently as his mind ran through the possibilities implied by her expressed “hope.” Was it a manipulative threat intended to bring him into line? A promise? Or a mere empty boast? Though she might be arrogant enough to telegraph a punch, Nola Rankoo didn’t strike him as someone who made empty boasts.
Be conservative then. Attempted manipulation could be ignored, so assume the implied threat was real; when and where would it happen? He’d have to assume the attempt could come at any moment—and clearly the governor’s enemies wouldn’t try to kill his general without trying for the man himself. He turned to Bethany. “Let’s find your uncle. I think he’s in danger.”
Bethany’s eyes widened, but she nodded silently and followed as he started pushing his way through the crowd towards the long buffet table. He caught a glimpse of Windsor every now and then. He was standing at the far end of the buffet table next to Trent. Eitor Senda was by his side. They were surrounded by a large group of people. Merikur and Bethany were only halfway down the length of the buffet table when his AID buzzed him. “Hey, Your generalship . . . somebody’s pumping a pulsed signal through here. The source is within a hundred feet.”
“Did it just start?”
“Yup.”
Straight-arming an elderly woman, Merikur charged forward. “Senator, hit the deck!”
But he was too late. Everything shifted into slow motion. As Merikur went for his gun, he saw a Cernian servant plunge both hands into a cake, and pull out a pistol. Off to his right, another Cernian ripped the back off an upholstered chair and pulled out an auto repulsor. A Dreed reached under a table and grabbed a needle gun taped there days before. Merikur sensed rather than saw that others were doing likewise all around the ballroom.
Whap! Whap! Whap! Glass beads began to fly in every direction. Women screamed, but no louder than some of the gorgeously attired military personnel of both sexes. Merikur watched in horror as a line of miniature explosions ran the length of the buffet line, promiscuously throwing up geysers of food and gobbets of living flesh, not stopping until it reached Governor Trent, the man who had made it all possible. Trent was dead before the first piece of him hit the floor. Two guards died shielding Windsor before Senda threw him down and covered the senator’s body with his own.
Tenly disappeared under the buffet table. Unarmed marines charged the aliens with their bare hands and died in bloody heaps.
Glass balls and needles cut through the crowd. The needles were almost silent but the whaps! of hypersonic glass beads merged with whumps! of flesh exploding on impact. The assassins carved bloody trails through the packed bodies as they sprayed the room with lethal projectiles.
Pulling his handgun free of his tunic, Merikur brought it up and fired. His shots punched a Cernian backwards to slide across the buffet table and fall off the other side.
Bethany! He whirled ready to throw her down, but found she was covering his back, her small purse gun spitting death. Beyond her, a Dreed grew a third eye and fell backwards into a pile of screaming men and women. There was a lot he didn’t know about his new wife!
Merikur picked another target and squeezed the trigger. Whap! Whap! Whap! A sloppy job. His projectiles blew the Cernian’s right arm to pulp before crossing his chest and putting him down. And what would Warrant Nister have had to say about that? Neat meant ‘fast’ and speed counted . . .
It took a few seconds for the Governor’s Hundred to pick their targets. Then it was all over. When the firing stopped, there was a moment’s silence then moans and hysterical laughter.
In the distance ,Windsor was swearing and pushing Senda out of the way while members of the Elite Guard formed a circle around him. Tenly had emerged from under the table and was doing his best to get in everyone’s way.
Turning, Merikur saw Bethany was untouched and already helping the wounded.
He scanned the room as troops flooded in through open doors and windows. Movement caught his eye as Nola Rankoo and her husband stood. They’d been concealed behind the bar, the room’s heaviest piece of furniture and, therefore, the most projectile-proof. There wasn’t a mark on them. Meeting his gaze, Rankoo nodded and smiled. Then, stepping delicately over and around the bodies, she and Coda left the ballroom.
He knew to a certainty that Rankoo had planned the whole thing. He couldn’t prove it. But as Merikur looked out over the bloody ballroom, he swore an oath that Nola Rankoo would pay.
###
Two days later, the wounded were on the way to recovery, the worst of the shock was over, and the ballroom floor was cleansed of blood. Trent’s wife had departed for Earth with an attentive Admiral Stender by her side and her husband’s body, or most of it, stored in the ship’s hold.
Members of the Hundred were buried as they’d lived, side by side. Mixed among the human and Cernian guards were the sixteen marines who had attacked the assassins with their bare hands and posthumously earned a place in their ranks. On Merikur’s orders, all were buried with full honors in a section of the military graveyard that had been reserved for the Hundred alone. Some of the living marines were dubious about having their comrades interred with aliens, but the honor of it overcame their reservations.
And with the perversity of soldiers every
where, applications for the Guard doubled, and then tripled within a few days. Members of all races represented on the planet were rushing to join up.
The public swearing-in was cancelled due to Governor Trent’s death. Instead, there was a quiet ceremony witnessed by only a few. As Windsor raised his right hand and swore to defend Harmony Cluster from all enemies foreign and domestic, it occurred to Merikur that they had plenty of both.
###
Windsor and the senior members of his staff met in a conference room just off his spacious office.
Governor Trent had spared no expense to make the room both comfortable and attractive. Light poured in from a series of large rectangular windows. A long black conference table of highly polished native stone ran the length of the room. Upholstered chairs surrounded it and added to the atmosphere of elegant comfort. Gray drapes with burgundy trim covered the walls and also served to conceal a holotank.
Governor Windsor was seated at the head of the table with Senda on his right and Tenly on his left. Also present were Merikur, Captain Von Oy, and Lieutenant Commander Moskone.
As usual, Windsor looked quite dashing with his quick smile and flashing eyes. A small bandage over his left eye gave him a slightly piratical air. In spite of Merikur’s strenuous objections, Windsor insisted on working in the planet’s spirelike administration building.
“I appreciate your concern for my safety, General, but government is two-thirds smoke and one-third accomplishment. This office has symbolic value. By staying here, I tell both friends and enemies alike that I’m not afraid.” He grinned, “Even though I am.”
Merikur knew there was truth in what Windsor said, but also harbored a strong suspicion that the new governor liked the trappings of office and was loath to give them up. In any case, Windsor’s decision was final. Merikur beefed up security and hoped for the best.
Again.