Chương 64: Tarquin Radecki

Auctoritas Station, Terra Imperium Stellarum January 23, 2848"And it is the belief of imperial intelligence that Rensburg's death is the reason that back channel proposal didn't pan out?" For a moment, as he considered the faces of the dozen members of the Imperial Senate Committee for Intelligence and Security, Emperor Altair Janus Solaris wondered what it might be like to have a shackled AI.

He'd hoped to ask his daughter over the break between semesters, but Cassie had elected to remain on Vidako—much to her mother's consternation. He'd studied human—and non-human—body language, of course. The genetic engineering approved by his own parents for all four of their children had seen to it that both in terms of raw processing power and memory storage, his brain was as efficient as it was possible for a purely organic organ to be.

And yet, the prospect of having an internal partner, someone who could catalogue each twitch of an eye, each minute movement of muscle around the jaw or the lips, was enticing. Perhaps he could find a way to have his daughter sit in on a few of these committee briefings over the summer recess. Monica Yarborough nodded.

The senior analyst had been more and more of a presence over the four months since the initial Na'xir assault on former LeShaii space, and Altair was now convinced beyond any shadow of a doubt that Wik Void Skimmer was grooming her for an eventual position as deputy director. He leaned back in his chair, behind the polished desk of solid California redwood that anchored his personal office.

The whorls in the polished wood had been shaped to look something like a waterfall, pouring down off the right-hand side of the desk to the floor.

"That's right, Senator Uʻilani," she confirmed.

"Our initial contact indicated that Autenrieth-Fujita Corporation, and by extension Livingston-Baylies, would be quite interested in the profit to be made from supplying solid state batteries and munitions for the war effort. Marten Rensburg was said, specifically, 'to be quite concerned about the potential for the conflict spreading to Singularity worlds if not contained at the early stages."

"And when we lost him, we lost our voice of reason on their board, it seems," U'ilani grumbled. The Alu'kan matriarch, and senator of Alu itself, seemed to have shrunken during her most recent term of office. A series of broad wrinkles, looking something like ripples in an exposed sand bar or mud flat, extended back from her forehead all along her skull. At a hundred and four imperial standard years of age, she'd not only served for the entirety of Altair's own reign, but the tail end of his father's, as well.

"We should never have counted on them in the first place," Senator Tarquin Radecki groused.

"Sixty-two years of peace does not make them an ally, no matter how much we've sought to normalize relations."

"The ancestors of the current Singularity populace were imperial citizens," Altair pointed out. On this point, he felt obligated to push back.

"Many of their executives were themselves, as younger men and women. There are centuries of a shared cultural identity there, which has not entirely atrophied. Humanity has a long history of coming together when faced with an external threat."

"Are you saying that you believe the Na'xir to present that level of danger?" U'ilani had, Altair had found, a habit of striking at the slightest show of weakness. It was an instinct that would have made her predatory ancestors proud, and it had built her a reputation as a ruthlessly effective politician.

"I think that it is in our interests not to underestimate any foe we are presented with," Altair responded.

"My responsibility is the safety and security of seventy-billion imperial citizens. I would not be a very good emperor if that was not my highest priority, and if I did not do everything in my power to see it done." No one, it appeared, would be quite willing to challenge him on that.

"While we've lost the chance to re-supply our fighters from Singularity manufactories," Director Void Skimmer said, "there is good news, as well. We have identified and secured a new high level intelligence asset within the Singularity, and they are already feeding us valuable intelligence."

"How high level?" Tarquin asked. This time, Altair didn't even need to speak up himself—U'ilani did it for him, emitting an audible click of frustration.

"You've been on this committee long enough to know that no one can answer that," she chided her junior. Then, she turned to the director.

"I assume that you wouldn't be telling us this if the new asset hadn't passed along something important."

"Livingston-Baylies Manufacturing is turning out mech parts," Yarborough answered.

"Just not for us. Some new production model."

"Apparently," Wik said, "the Singularity does recognize the threat of the Na'xir. They simply feel they would be better off preparing to defend their own systems, rather than supporting our forces."

"It's disappointing," Yarborough said, "but not entirely unexpected."

"We should make certain to reinforce every world that borders Singularity space," Tarquin Radecki said.

"Mechs built to fight the Na'xir could just as easily be turned on us."

"I can assure you that fleet is well prepared for such an eventuality," Altair said. It was laughable that the old man, who'd never served a day in his life, considered his own strategic insight to be of any particular value. Nevermind that the committee's purpose was oversight—not to dictate military policy. Still, there was no point in ruffling feathers without a purpose.

"I will make certain to convey your concerns to the admiralty." Tarquin nodded, apparently satisfied. Before anyone else could speak, however, the door half-opened, one of the black-uniformed imperial guards entered and crossed the room to Altair's desk, where he leaned in close to the emperor's ear.

"The Empress is on her way, Your Imperial Highness." Altair frowned.

"Have I forgotten something on my schedule?" It was a ridiculous question—he did not forget things. But he asked it, anyway, because to do otherwise would be to give the game away before it had even begun.

"No." The guard hesitated.

"She is rather upset about the latest news from Vidako." It was senator U'ilani who stood, first and completely unprompted, and as the chairwoman of the committee, the other senators were obligated to follow in her wake.

"We were finished here anyway, I believe," the matriarch said.

"Unless there was something pressing that cannot wait for our next meeting, Director Void Skimmer?" Wik, who had not risen from his own seat to Altair's left, shook his head.

"No. You all have the summary briefings on your secure tablets. If there are any questions, feel free to send them to Monica, and she'll get right back to you." Which would place Wik's protege in close contact with powerful political figures in the senate. Not for the first, nor, he was certain, the last time, Altair appreciated the skill with which his old friend maneuvered.

The double doors to the office swung open at the hands of two more imperial guards, one of which raised his voice to announce: "Her Imperial Highness, Cordelia Anne Sabran-Solaris, Empress of the Imperium Stellarum." At that, Wik finally did stand, as did Altair himself. Cordelia swept into the room with her chin raised, radiating the utter and absolute confidence which had caught Altair's eye when they'd first met at Teegarden's Star, during a gallery reception at the Académie during her time as an undergraduate.

The years since had been kinder to her than to him, though Altair knew that had more to do with her telomere lengthening treatments than any physical defect of his own. At a glance, she could have been mistaken for his daughter, rather than his wife. The fabric of her dress matched her unnaturally bright blue eyes, and had been embroidered with gold thread to display a star-map of the imperium.

"I regret the necessity of interrupting the meeting of such an important committee," the empress said, though the tone of her voice made it clear to everyone in the room that it was nothing more than a polite fiction.

"I must speak with my husband." You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"Far be it from us to stand between a matriarch and the business of her pod," U'ilani said. The senator from Alu took Cordelia's hand and patted it with a familiarity that few other women in the imperium would have dared.

"Come and visit me this weekend, my dear. I am twenty-seven times a grandmother, and I've seen them all through their wild years. You could do with a sympathetic ear, I suspect."

"Thank you, Matriarch," Cordelia said. But as the other senators moved to follow the old Alu'kan woman out, the empress called out.

"Not you, Senator Radecki. You will remain behind." Tarquin Radecki hesitated, and then returned to stand beside his chair.

"If Her Imperial Highness has need of me, of course I am honored to oblige." Cordelia's eyes flicked to where Wik Void Skimmer had made no motion to depart.

"You are excused, Director."

"As you like, Your Imperial Highness," he said, and inclined his head just enough to make his feathered crest bounce.

"Come along, Miss Yarborough." Only after the imperial guards had closed the doors, leaving Altair, his wife, and Senator Tarquin Radecki alone—or as alone as the emperor ever got, which meant two guards remained at their station just inside the door—did Cordelia speak.

"You promised me that your son would put an end to this ridiculous challenge the moment he returned to Vidako," the empress began, her voice laced with a burning thread of anger.

"You have my word,' you told me. And yet, the latest news from New Toledo arrives, and I find this." She leaned over Altair's desk, stabbed at the holo-projector controls, and loaded a recording. At roughly eye level, in the center of the room, a scene flickered into existence. Altair recognized a space-port, though not one he recalled ever going to himself.

A black car had stopped at the foot of one of those portable stairs one wheeled up to a private plane—he'd certainly used enough of those, over the course of his reign. Lines of media-types were pressing up against the local security forces, straining to get the perfect shot, or to get their microphones into his daughter's face. Cassie wasn't wearing a wig this time, and her black hair was so short that it closely followed the shape of her head.

She was wearing a cadet's uniform, and holding hands with a young man who appeared, to Altair's eye, completely unremarkable. Brown hair clipped just as short as his daughter's, and they were very nearly of a height, as well, even if the boy was just a bit taller. Matching uniforms. The image flickered again, this time into motion and sound.

"Princess, what's it like to have two men fight a duel over you?"

"Sandhurst, what did you say to the senator's son? What was the insult?"

"Princess, what do you say to the people who claim you're playing games with these two men?" That you've led them both on for a bit of fun? Do you actually care about either one?" That last was from a perfectly coiffed woman who'd' somehow leaned her entire torso, from the waist up, over the arms of two local police officers.

The scene changed viewpoint, and the new image must have come from a camera just behind the woman asking the question, because it caught Cassie's face in a perfectly framed closeup shot as she rounded on the question. Altair recognized the look in his daughter's eyes, and once again suppressed a wince. Every time he'd ever seen Cassie that angry, trouble had followed—since the time she'd been waist high.

"You want an answer?" his daughter said to the camera. Then, she turned back to the boy, and a moment later the two were kissing in full view of the crowd. Cordelia stabbed a perfectly manicured finger down at Altair's desk controls again, and the image froze on the unfortunate visual of their daughter enthusiastically showing her affection for a boy neither of her parents had ever met. Tarquin Radecki, at least, had the grace to look embarrassed.

"I believe that particular footage was aired not long after my son departed at the end of the semester," he said.

"Before we'd even had a chance to speak about the matter, Your Imperial Highness. I'm certain that once he returned to Vidako for the new semester -""This is from his arrival back in the system," Cordelia interrupted.

"The recording only got to Terra this morning, carried by a cargo ship carrying ore from Chel." At a few motions of her fingers, the image of Cassie kissing her boyfriend was replaced by Fletcher Radecki, wearing a cadet's uniform, seated at the bar of some lounge. Across from him, but still in frame, was the same reporter, microphone in hand.

"I'm Rebecca Cuevas, here with Cadet Second Class Fletcher Radecki, son of senator Tarquin Radecki," the woman began.

"And while news of the Na'xir front has practically consumed Vidako over the new year, that doesn't change the fact that our very own planet is playing host to some absolutely delicious drama involving none other than the imperium's youngest princess. Cadet Radecki, has the imperial family made any attempt to apologize for the insult at the heart of this upcoming duel?" Tarquin's son cocked his head to one side and gave a sort of grimace.

"Well, I haven't spoken to the emperor or the empress about this, Rebecca," he admitted.

"So I couldn't tell you what they're thinking."

"I find that surprising," Cuevas said, in her own turn.

"You would have thought that they would want to do whatever was necessary to put a stop to this."

"The only one who can do that right now is my opponent," Radecki said.

"So you're still waiting on an apology from Cadet Sandhurst, then?"

"I'm going to be honest with you, Rebecca—I don't think he's going to do that," Fletcher said.

"At this point, I'm just waiting for his second to give me the final location where we're going to fight."

"Somewhere on Chel, I believe."

"Yes." Radecki nodded.

"A concession on my part, because first year cadets haven't started zero-g training yet. I'm trying to be as fair as I possibly can be." Cuevas leaned forward.

"But be honest with us, cadet. Sandhurst has two years less experience piloting a mech. Isn't this really just an overly complicated way of committing suicide, on his part?" At that, Cordelia paused the recording again.

"January eleventh," she said, the words dripping with acid.

"After we spoke. Explain yourself, senator." Tarquin raised his hands in a sort of shrug, as if to say, 'what can you do?'

"I did speak to my son, and I prevailed upon him to be reasonable," the senator admitted.

"But I must say, Your Imperial Highness, that when he told me the words this boy used—well, I had difficulty sympathizing with your request."

"What did he say?" Altair asked. He already knew, of course—his daughter's imperial guard had reported on everything that had happened, and that report had gone to Wik Void Skimmer's desk, and from there to him. But he wanted to see how the senator would answer.

"You'll forgive me," Tarquin hesitated.

"I would not normally speak this way in front of any lady, nevermind our empress." He took a deep breath.

"The Sandhurst boy called my son, and I quite, 'a fucking bastard.' He then lunged at Fletcher, apparently intent on committing physical violence, and had to be restrained by other cadets. Including, I am told, your daughter."

"No," Altair said, narrowing his eyes.

"What did your boy say that caused all this?" Tarquin pursed his lips.

"I believe there was an altercation rooted in the question as to which of the two young men was better suited to pursue a relationship with the princess imperial. You know how young men get."" C'est de la foutaise," Cordelia exclaimed.

"Your son is throwing mud at my daughter, and I don't believe for a moment that it isn't with your approval." Altair winced. This was supposed to have all been an act, but when the French came out, he knew that his wife was really, truly angry.

"Let's cut to the heart of this, Tarquin," he said.

"What would it take to get your boy to back off before this duel happens, and stop parading it around in the media?" Whatever pretense of innocence had remained in the senator's face faded, at that moment, to be replaced only by cold calculation.

"A public apology, of course, for the insult to our family," he said.

"You must understand I can't allow something like that to stand, when my son has so much potential ahead of him. Your daughter must break off her relationship with this boy, to make it clear the imperial family repudiates the entire affair. And Senator Lipień fills the next vacancy on the appropriations committee." Altair sat down in his chair and leaned back, letting it cradle his back. All of a sudden, he felt very tired.

"At least we're being honest, finally," he said. It wasn't the answer he'd hoped for, when he'd chosen to give Tarquin the benefit of the doubt, but it was an answer. And whatever happened as a result could be well and truly laid at Radecki's own feet.

"This is what you waste your time on, when the imperium is at war?" Cordelia practically hissed at the senator.

"Political opportunism? When our soldiers are dying?" Tarquin Radecki shrugged, without showing an ounce of guilt.

"Everything is politics, Your Imperial Highness," he said.

"If you don't like my price, make me a better offer. I'd hoped for a match between my son and your daughter, but that particular ship seems to have left the port. Still, so long as I have something within my power that you want, I am willing to make a deal."

"And if the boy beats your son?" Altair asked.

"You could lose him over this nonsense, you know. Pilots die in duels, or come back crippled. You're really willing to risk that, to get a committee seat for Proxima's junior senator?"

"There is no risk," Tarquin declared.

"My boy has two years advantage of experience, the better mech, and the terrain. He will win, he will likely kill this foolish boy, and I will see to it that the entire thing is filmed, and circulated about the imperium. It will be an embarrassment for your family for years to come, and it will hobble any ambitions your daughter might hold to fill your seat when you are gone. Compared to all of that, I think that I am asking very little.

You will find that, while I make a very bitter enemy, Your Imperial Highness, I can be just as effective an ally."