“I rarely get to use them. Shall we see what happens?”
They stepped onto the dance floor and he put his hand around her small waist, feeling the delicate curve of her back through the thin material of the dress. She stepped in close to him, and at the gentle urging of the music, they moved as one.
For Erik, the evening seemed to fly by. They danced until they were too tired to stand, found quiet corners to talk, then danced again. She was intensely curious about him, especially his most recent adventures. He told her of his defeat on Mara, and how he’d redeemed the situation on Achernar, and of his victories on New Aragon.
He was careful not to say anything that a spy—or even an interested citizen—might not pick up from other sources, or to provide any current information of strategic value. Yet he found that he enjoyed talking with her. She showed eager interest in his stories of battle and adventure. Though she didn’t say so, he felt she’d lived a safe life—perhaps too safe for her taste.
He imagined her, pampered and coddled, never really tasting the spice that made life worth living—now off on her own for the first time. What lengths might such a person go to in order to experience danger and intrigue? He’d known soldiers like that—lesser nobles, trained by the finest teachers in the martial arts, seasoned from hundreds of hours in a ’Mech simulator, and yet having no comprehension of what real adversity was like—real danger. He knew to watch those soldiers closely, because for each of them would come a moment when they realized they were far too deep in danger, and that it was no simulation, no fantasy, no game. Elsa reminded him of those officers—of someone who was just starting to realize the reality of the situation they’d put themselves in.
Though he told her freely about his own family and background, he seemed to learn very little about her personally, which bothered him. Not that he hadn’t expected her to be evasive. Soldiers were about the only people in Erik’s day-to-day life who ever spoke the unadulterated truth, and then only because they sometimes couldn’t help it. With nobles, politicians, and diplomats, what came out was shades of deception. He was entirely used to that.
It was the nature of her evasiveness that both intrigued and frustrated him. Hers was not the calculated evasion of someone seeking advantage or clouding the truth, it was the withdrawal of someone hiding painful emotions. She was, despite her smooth exterior, very human, very vulnerable. He found himself wanting to protect her, and having no idea how. He wanted to know about her. Everything about her.
Suddenly, he found himself telling her about his troubles with his uncle. It wasn’t a calculated effort to draw her out, it just happened. He reproached himself even as he started. His family problems were of strategic and political value—the sort of thing that could, at the very least, give encouragement and comfort to their enemies.
Yet, it was liberating, intoxicating—perhaps not in spite of the danger, but because of it—and all the more so because he knew his uncle would be outraged if he knew. But he wasn’t there, wasn’t calling the shots, and Erik needed a confidante.
He got little in return. She was still close-mouthed about her family and personal history. Yet there was a connection. They shared something in common, even if it was unspoken. He knew in his heart that they were somehow very much alike.
Later, the tempo of the music picked up, and they danced until they fell, exhausted and laughing, into each other’s arms. Her lips found his, and he was lost. When he regained his senses, he was suddenly aware of how many people were around, and he didn’t want to share her with anyone.
She seemed to sense his concern. She grabbed his hand. “Come with me. I know someplace where we can be alone.”
He had a flash of guilt, and his sense of duty tugged at him. “Kinston said he had people he wanted me to meet.”
She leaned close against his chest, and looked up into his eyes. “It’s early for one of these things. The real business won’t happen until nearly dawn, when half the guests have already left.” She stepped back and tugged at his hand.
She led him past the bar, through a servant’s passage and down a narrow staircase that led underground. They passed through a heavy iron door at the bottom and into a large room lined with utilitarian bunk beds, and doors leading to other passages.
He looked around. “What is this place?”
“Catacombs. Kind of a defensive shelter. All the older buildings here have them. Shensi hasn’t been attacked in a long time, but it’s a strong local tradition.”
“Cozy,” he said.
She reached up with one hand and quickly opened the top button of his uniform. Her fingers brushed his chest, and then hooked into the front of his jacket, pulling him down with her onto one of the beds. “Fully equipped,” she said softly, “with everything needed in an emergency.”
9
GOFF: “SHENSI SAFE FROM LIAO”—Hereditary House Lord Speaker Goff is quoted as saying that his personal belief is that House Liao is, “no threat to Shensi. I’m confident that their advance will bypass our world. This is no time for a dubious alliance with a rogue Lord Governor who doesn’t know his place.”
Fairview Tower Hotel
Whitehorse, Shensi
Prefecture V, The Republic
21 November 3134
Erik awoke in an unfamiliar place, and it took him a moment to recognize his hotel room. He was disappointed to discover that Elsa was gone. He rolled over to smell her perfume on the pillow, and spotted a note on the night table. He read it. She had an early class, and promised to meet him for lunch.
Erik had his own appointment with Ozark Kinston, to review the previous evening’s events. He smiled.
The official ones, anyway.
He and Elsa had emerged from their hideaway in time for the appointed meetings. Erik had pleaded his case to several men and women, all of whom Kinston swore were important, and all of whom showed, or at least feigned, some degree of interest in what he had to say.
Erik had expected that Elsa would excuse herself when the meetings started, but she was there till the end—listening, yes, but also working the room quietly to help win people to his cause. In the end, Kinston assured him that they had swayed critical votes, but Erik had only his word to prove it. As was usual with the local politics, he was never sure what he was accomplishing.
Instead, his thoughts flashed back to before the meetings, when he and Elsa had been curled together in the bomb-shelter cot. There had been an exchange. At the time it had seemed like a trifle, casual pillow talk, the sort of random thoughts that sometimes surfaced at such moments.
In retrospect, it was the most candid moment Elsa had allowed him. It had started when she’d asked a simple but unexpected question, “Have you ever been to the circus?”
“There are still circuses? I thought they were only in old books and fairy tales.”
“There’s at least one, Captain Rose’s Traveling Extravaganza. No reason you should have ever seen it, or even heard of it. For all I know, that’s the only one left, and it’s a big galaxy. For that matter, maybe even it’s gone now. It was a long time ago.
“But they used to travel from planet to planet in a couple of ancient Leopard DropShips, stripped of their weapons—so old they looked like they’d crumble if you touched them. They were painted in gaudy colors, and had murals and billboards of the acts on the sides.
“My parents took me to the show. I might have been eight or nine years old. The star act was a family of high-wire acrobats, and the ringmaster announced that this was to be the debut of their youngest member as a soloist. I was so excited. She was a girl, and I identified with her at once. She seemed like she wasn’t much older than me, though I now suspect she was probably a smallish teenager. She got up on the wire, high over our heads, all alone, with only a pole to help her keep her balance.