The High Ground (40 page)

He had talked with his father a few times, and had been assured by station communications personnel that he wouldn’t be charged for the calls. Classes were supposed to have resumed two days before, but the start of the new semester had been postponed while repairs were made to the
cosmódromo.

He passed the time by reading news reports about the attack. The part played by Mercedes had been prominent and rightly so, but Cullen was the other individual who got the most press, which galled Tracy to his core. Davin had been praised for his bravery and his injury. Hugo was mentioned, but more attention was paid to his father, and there were images of Caballero Malcomb Devris, his fat face streaming with tears, fists clenched, mouth open as he bellowed his grief. Ernesto was mentioned, and finally Tracy—the afterthought. Except in the
Alibi
, the independent news outlet read by those not in the FFH. There had been a very large article about Tracy there. To be fair every time Mercedes had been quoted she credited Tracy with the plan that had liberated the station.

Then eight days after the attack a message was delivered that a shuttle would be arriving to take Tracy planetside for a medal ceremony. He had found Mark in his room and made an effusive apology about how he was going to have to leave Mark for a few days and why. The look of rage on the other scholarship student’s face had given him more than a little delight. As he walked away Tracy had tossed back over his shoulder, “Too bad you didn’t come, but then you’re an expert on how to get ahead.”

And now he was standing in his dress uniform, in the palace garden and about to be decorated by the Emperor himself with the
Distinguido Servicio Cruzar
for extreme gallantry and risk of life in combat with an armed enemy force. On a table to the right were nine polished wood boxes with the blue enamel and silver medals nestled in dark blue velvet. Two of the medals were accompanied by a small silver bar indicating meritorious service. Those were reserved for him and Mercedes.

He glanced at his fellow recipients. Davin looked pale and his empty sleeve was pinned across the front of his jacket. A frown had settled between Sumiko’s brows. She seemed to sense his gaze and met his eyes. What he saw there had Tracy recoiling; it was pure, naked hatred. He wanted to break ranks, rush to her and apologize again. Ernesto seemed distracted, head bowed, lost in his own thoughts. Cipriana stood at rigid attention and she looked proud. Cullen had his usual expression of superior confidence. Danica was milk white; even her lips seemed bloodless and there was a blank look in those blue eyes. She looked like a dumb animal facing the slaughterhouse, not somebody about to receive a medal.

Tracy wondered what
his
face would tell to the
billions
—he tried to process that number and failed—who might be watching. He wished his thoughts hadn’t gone there because now his gut felt like an empty cavern filled with butterflies with razor blade wings. No wonder Lady Danica was looking poleaxed.

* * *

“What is Dani doing here?” Mercedes demanded. “After everything I told you. Didn’t—”

The Isanjo valet gave a final adjustment to the sash at the Emperor’s waist. He was wearing his
Orden de la Estrella
uniform with his admiral epaulets and a mass of medals and honors glittering on both sides of the jacket. Her father held up a restraining hand, and turned away from the full-length mirror. “She’s here to receive her medal,” he said mildly, but there was a clear warning in his dark eyes.

Mercedes flushed with embarrassment and bit her lower lip. The Emperor waved toward the door. The servant bowed his way out of the bedchamber.

“I’m sorry, I know better than to talk in front of servants, but what the hell? I mean really, didn’t SEGU find anything?”

“Yes, they did, and please watch the profanity.”

“Then what…” She bit back the
fuck
she wanted to utter and said, “…are you doing? She was part of a plot to kill me.”

“No, she and her family were part of a plot to point out how incompetent and useless you are, and how foolish I was to think you could ever take my place. The whispers would begin that I would endanger the safety of the League rather than see any but my own blood on the throne—”

“Well, isn’t that true?”

She was hurt and hoped the barb might rattle him, but he just gave her a smile and flicked a forefinger across her cheek. “But you weren’t useless, and you didn’t fail and have to be rescued by the troops I was preparing to send to the station. Unfortunately for our plotters they had assumed that their view of reality was the correct one rather than corroborating that view with actual facts.”

Mercedes sank down on the elaborate bed. The enamel and gold headboard extended almost to the ceiling and covered half the wall. All nine sisters could comfortably have slept in the bed itself.

“What did they offer? What was so tempting that Dani would betray me and endanger all those people?”

“A secret betrothal to Mihalis.”

Grabbing a pillow Mercedes held it tight against her aching stomach. Her throat was tight and she swallowed hard several times. She couldn’t decide if she was furious or just devastated. Her father strolled to his jewelry case and slid rings onto his fingers while she processed the information. Mercedes shook her head.

“Then I don’t understand what you’re doing. And who were the others who were involved, the fake terrorists?”

He joined her on the bed and slipped an arm around her. “It took a while for DeLange to follow the threads,” her father said, referring to the head of the intelligence service. “They were disgruntled members of the FFH, outraged officers in
Orden de la Estrella
, and of course my cousin, Musa. The operatives on the station had been recruited from disgraced members of SEGU or cashiered soldiers. They had had their fingerprints removed and made it impossible for retinal scans to be used to verify their identities, but you realizing Lady Danica was part of this plot gave us a thread to pull.” He smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant expression. “And pull it we did.”

“But nobody has been arrested.”

“No, nor will they be. No one must know I was challenged by my own nobles or the military.”

“So they just walk away?”

“Oh no. Captain Zeng is being promoted and assigned to a particularly dangerous post—”

“He seemed so sympathetic,” Mercedes blurted.

“And thus you learn another valuable lesson, my dear. Take nothing at face value. In fact assume every pleasant face hides a lie.”

I can’t live like that
, Mercedes thought, but her father was still talking.

“Lady Danica and her family will meet with a tragic Foldspace accident while returning home to Kronos; others will have similarly bad luck.”

“You’re going to just kill them without charging them or giving them a trial…?”

“Yes. I am.”

“And they’re just going to show up and go through this charade?”

“I’ve generously placed security on their youngest children back on Kronos. The parents will play their part.”

A shiver went down Mercedes’ back. “And Cousin Musa?” she forced out.

“Will be greeted with kisses on both cheeks as is proper with a close relative.” He looked at her and his expression was serious to the point of being grim. “This is the game of kings, Mercedes. We play it to win.”

He started for the door. “Wait,” Mercedes called. He looked back. “That task you gave me… I’ve made my decision.”

* * *

The
Distinguido Servicio Cruzar
had some heft to it. Mercedes was very aware of its weight against her left breast. With the ceremony concluded people were streaming toward the buffet and settling at tables beneath the billowing tents. Dani had been standing at the other end of the line of recipients and had tried to reach Mercedes. Mercedes had turned her back and left the stage. It was the direct cut with an exclamation point added. Cipriana had given her a startled glance as Mercedes hurried past.

Yes, she was furious with Danica but she also couldn’t bear to face the other girl.
She’s going to be dead soon. I didn’t try to argue about it. I wouldn’t have won. But should I have tried?
The thoughts tormented her as she hurried through the crowd.

Boho stood in a circle formed by his family. His mother’s exquisite Madonna face was framed by a shimmering silk scarf. His father, the powerful Duque de Argento y Pepco had a hand on his youngest son’s shoulder. The ten-year-old had a mulish expression, the father an exasperated one. The youngest Cullen stood very close to her mother and clung to the folds of her skirt. Her older sister, who was fourteen, was trying to fit into the circle of young women who orbited the family like rings around a planet.
Boho’s groupies
, Mercedes thought.
They’re in for a surprise
. She inclined her head to the group. The duque and Boho performed sweeping bows, the ladies curtsied. Mercedes didn’t stop. She had a more pressing errand.

Accepting bows, curtseys and congratulations Mercedes glided through the crowd dispensing a smile and a nod, but continuing her search until she found Sumiko and her family. Her mother, Mikazuki, kept touching her daughter, hands fluttering from Sumiko’s hair to her shoulder to her hand as if to reassure herself that Sumiko was still there. Her stepfather, Ari, looked bored. None of the sons from either marriage seemed to be present.

“May I borrow Sumiko for a minute?” Mercedes asked as she joined them.

More bows and more curtsies. “Of course,” Ari said. He had one of those Voice-Of-God bass voices.

She and Sumiko headed to an arbor roofed with the glossy leaves of a winter jasmine plant. Tiny white flowers wildly threw aroma into the wind. “Well?” Sumiko demanded once they were screened from view.

“You’re out. They’re drafting a statement about a family emergency that will stress you’re not quitting, but taking a leave of absence to deal with a family matter. By the time the public realizes you’re not coming back I’ll be graduating and all the focus will be on me.”

“Isn’t it always?”

Mercedes flushed at the bitter tone. “Look, I’m sorry, Sumi, but what happened to Hugo is not my fault. It isn’t anybody’s fault.” Mercedes cocked her head and considered. “No, that’s not right. It’s those terrorists’ fault.” She knew she had stumbled a bit when she said
terrorists
; fortunately Sumiko was too absorbed in her own pain to notice.

The other girl slumped. “I know. But I’m just so angry all the time, and they’re all dead and I can’t kill them over and over again. So I blame the people I can reach. If we hadn’t been on the strut—”

“We had to get control of the hub.”

“But it ultimately didn’t matter.”

“But it might have. If I’d failed to take out that ship it would have been up to all of you to retake control,” Mercedes said softly. “We can’t change the past. All we can do is try for a better future. I’ve done what you wanted. You don’t have to go back.”

“And I appreciate it. Is your dad going to conscript a bunch more girls to be your attendants?”

“No. Cipriana is staying and I convinced him she was enough of a chaperone.”

That got a laugh. “Your dad obviously doesn’t know Cipri all that well.”

Mercedes smiled back. “Well, for God’s sake don’t tell him.” They hugged. “I’ll miss you. So much.”

“We’ll see each other during the holidays.” They left the arbor and Sumiko returned to her family. Mercedes’ gaze shifted to a table near a fountain. The rising wind meant spray was wafting into the tent, so it was being avoided by the noble guests. Tracy and his father were at that table.

Mercedes stood looking at the father and son. Tracy knelt next to his father’s chair looking up into the man’s lined and weary face. Perhaps it was only the water from the fountain, but Mercedes suspected the man was weeping. She spun on her heel and walked away, not wishing to intrude and trying to postpone the conversation that had to take place.

* * *

“So proud of you. So very proud.” Alexander sniffed and he groped for a napkin on the table and wiped away the tears and the moisture from the fountain. “If only your mother…” He shook his head.

“Dad, I… I want to say something. I’m glad you—” Tracy broke off, trying to think how to phrase it that wouldn’t make it sound sullen instead of the thank you he was trying express. “I’m glad you found a way to make me see that I should go to The High Ground.”

A long bony hand was laid on his shoulder. “I knew I might lose you, but it’s what you do for your child. Giving you a future was more… well, I had to do it.”

“I know.”

“Remember that when you have children of your own.”

“Okay.”

“Have you spoken to the Devrises yet?”

“No.” Tracy hung his head. “I don’t know what to say. They’ll blame me. Like Sumiko.”

“Doesn’t matter. Do what’s right. Go.” His father nudged his shoulder.

Tracy stood, blotted the wet patch on his right knee with a napkin and nodded. “Okay, but get us some food, all right? I’m starving.”

“What do you want?” Alexander asked.

“Everything. But lots of oysters if they’ve got them.” His father gave him a quizzical look, shook his head and smiled.

It was like pushing through molasses to force his legs to move. Tracy slowly crossed to the tent where the Devris clan was huddled. Hugo’s sisters and brothers were looking scared, Lady Devris was clinging to her husband’s arm with a desperate look on her face. Malcomb was red-faced and he clutched the medal in his hand.

“Bastards aren’t getting another of my boys! Not happening! Not
ever
!”

“Malcolm dear, hush, they’ll hear you,” Lady Devris pleaded, her hand patting the air as if placating an angry dog. People at nearby tables were staring, expressions haughty; some began to drift away as if grief was déclassé and death might be catching.

“Let ’em. How dare they give me this piece of shiny crap when they took my boy from me.” He jerked free of his wife’s grasp and stormed toward a trashcan tucked discreetly behind a flowering bush.

“Don’t do it, sir,” Tracy said. His tone was soft but urgent.