Cluster Command: Crisis of Empire II (7 page)

Machines the size of small towns inched across the planet’s surface, consuming its flesh for markets light years away. When the strip mines were exhausted, huge ulcerous pits were left to scar the planet for thousands of years to come.

Merikur was a pragmatic man. He knew such mines were necessary, but also knew the resulting pits could be terraformed. But the Haiken Maru refused to do it. Their contract didn’t call for them to do it, so why turn profits into scenery?

There was a buzzing in his ears. It was his AID. “I have a message from your other half.”

“I wish you’d quit calling her that,” Merikur subvocalized. “She’s my wife in the legal sense only, and even if our relationship was deeper than that, she wouldn’t appreciate being referred to as ‘my other half’.”

“All
right
already. Excuse me for processing.”

Merikur was surprised however. He hadn’t talked to Bethany for days. He’d found it more comfortable to sleep in a room next to his office than to return to their temporary quarters. Somehow he always felt like an invader. “What’s the message?”

“She’d like to meet you for lunch. With your permission, I’ll dump directions and the address into the car’s computer.”

“Go ahead.” Merikur couldn’t imagine why Bethany would suddenly request his presence at lunch, but what the hell. Anything was better than the pile of work waiting at his office.

The mystery grew as Sergeant Knox followed the AID’s directions and steered the car away from the city and towards the suburbs. Gradually, businesses grew almost nonexistent, villas were spaced further and further apart, and the highway narrowed from four lanes to two.

There was a hill ahead of them. Turning onto a side road, they began to climb in ever smaller loops. The views were marvelous. To the west lay Gloria, the spires of the central business district glittering in the sun, while all around suburbs gave way to lush farmland.

Suddenly they rounded a corner and drove into a paved courtyard. There was another vehicle, a civilian roadster, and beyond that a sprawling villa.

As Knox cut power and put the car down, a human servant hurried out to greet them. In spite of his white house coat, Merikur recognized him immediately: Kevin Matsumoto, a member of the Elite Guard. Merikur started to say something, but a tiny shake of Matsumoto’s head stopped him.

Matsumoto had read somewhere that Orientals were once considered inscrutable; he was doing his best to live up to that reputation. Apparently there was more to this than met the eye.

“Right this way, Sir. Sergeant Knox, if you’ll wait here for a moment, someone will be along with refreshments.” Knox looked to Merikur for instructions.

Merikur shrugged. “Beats me, Sergeant. If I’m not back in an hour, hose the place down with the twin .50s and send for reinforcements. In the meantime, have a good lunch.”

Knox laughed. “Yes, Sir!”

Merikur followed Matsumoto through a well-kept garden and into the villa. Inside, everything was cool stucco and comfortable furniture. Vases of fresh flowers complimented the nicely executed landscapes which decorated the walls.

Stepping out onto the veranda, Merikur was greeted by a Cernian, also a member of the Elite Guard, and Bethany, stunning in slacks and a loose blouse. God, she was beautiful. She smiled, and despite himself his pulse began to quicken. “Welcome home, General. Can you join me for lunch?”

For a moment, he stood there like a foolish schoolboy filled with confusing thoughts and emotions. Finally, he managed to smile and stutter a reply. “Thank you, Bethany. I’d enjoy that.”

Was that relief in her eyes? He thought so but couldn’t be sure. Moments later, he found himself seated at a linen-covered table, sipping cool wine, and enjoying the sound of her voice. Another servant materialized, a Cernian, and after some brief instructions from Bethany disappeared into the kitchen. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come, so lunch won’t be ready for a few minutes.”

Merikur smiled, searching her face for signs of the grief and anger which he’d always seen there before. He thought he detected a reserve, a barrier deep in her eyes, but all other signs of her previous distress had disappeared. “That’s fine. It feels good to get away from the office. This villa is absolutely beautiful. Whose is it?”

Bethany smiled. “Ours if you want it. We’ve got to live somewhere and I thought you might like something a little more elaborate than the room next to your office.”

The room next to his office? How did she know about that? “It’s wonderful,” he said looking around in awe. “Can I, we, afford it?”

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.