Battle Cruiser (4 page)

“Father,” I said. “You live?”

“I do, William,” he said. “No Sparhawk can be taken down so easily.”

Looking at him quizzically, I was at a loss. Those blades…

He saw my hesitancy, and he realized I thought he must be badly wounded and in shock. His eyes caught mine, and he lifted the edge of his shirt. There I saw a thin suit of body armor. The stab wounds had imprinted the fabric, but hadn’t penetrated.

“Ah,” I said in sudden understanding.

“She cut my arms and broke my ribs,” he said, “but she didn’t kill me. What of you, William?”

I showed him the slash in my clothing. “I’ll be fine,” I said.

My father struggled to stand. He slapped away the hands that sought to keep him down.

Everyone present sought to make him stay on his back, waiting for the medical people, but I thought he’d earned the right to do as he pleased. Reaching to clasp his hand, I hauled him to his feet.

We caught one another’s eye as he stood, unsteady and swaying. There was a moment, a look in his eye. It was a look I hadn’t seen for a decade or more. A closeness was there between us, perhaps even a touch of gratitude.

Then, just as quickly as it had come, that spark died. My father was again cold, distant, professional. The lines in his face hardened, and he gave me a slight nod of thanks. It was the sort of nod a man might award to an attentive waiter who has replaced a dropped fork without being asked.

In response, my demeanor shifted almost as swiftly as his. I straightened and turned my face into an expressionless mask. We’d transitioned from the informal back to the formal again, just like that.

There were no hugs. No hardy congratulations. Nothing like there might have been in my youth.

I felt a pang. In that frozen moment, I’d dared to hope. It was a hope I hadn’t realized I’d retained through all the long years to this very day.

In that fraction of a second I’d believed my father had let go of his misgivings concerning my chosen profession. That he’d come to accept my choices in life and forgiven the embarrassment I’d caused him by becoming a mere guardsman.

Part of me understood his anguish, naturally. I was more than just a son to him. I was his heir. A man was only allowed a single legal heir. One individual that had been carefully designed with selected genetic traits. I’d been built, rather than bred, using gene-splicing enzymes and a thousand other medical procedures.

Thus William Sparhawk Senior and Junior shared more than names. My DNA was a seventy percent match to his—the legal limit. I was, for the most part, a copy of him. I’d been genetically designed to contain the best of his body and mind. I was meant to be perfect in every way, meant to be a copy of my father—but somewhat better.

Instead, I’d turned out to be a discouraging failure. An incalculable disappointment. Possibly, I was the only blunder in his existence that he’d not yet corrected.

“We must get you to the hospital,” I said.

He shook his head. He was no longer looking at me. He was looking and thinking of the cameras, the optics. “No. She broke every rib on my right side—but no. I’m going to take the lectern again.”

“Sir, this is madness,” said a voice at his elbow.

One step below us stood Miles Tannish. His hands were clasped together before him as if he was pleading for his life.

Tannish dared to reach toward my tottering father, but I pressed him back, putting my hand on
his
wrist this time. Rumbold followed my lead. We pushed back the aides and arriving medical people, so my father could face the cameras.

“He’s earned the right to finish his damned speech if he wants to, Miles,” I said.

Stubbornly, my father did finish a shortened version of his speech. I was too busy watching the crowd for further assassins to listen to the details. If nothing else, I found myself taking my job much more seriously than I had previously.

Occasionally Father coughed, but he always stood tall. There were bloodstains on his shirt and his jacket was torn—but he continued speaking.

The ballroom was all but empty by this time, of course, as the guests had fled the chamber. But the cameras were still on him.

I understood perfectly. He wasn’t speaking to the assembled party members in their fine suits and gowns, he was talking to the people at home who were watching on the net. It was for their benefit he had to appear strong and undaunted.

Although several agents pressed close and looked at me curiously, I continued serving as Father’s guard until the end. At last, he finished his presentation and stepped away from the lectern under his own power. The tiny floating spheres stopped transmitting and flew away.

I sighed in relief, glad it was over.

-5-

After he’d finished his speech, Father moved painfully down the gray marble steps. An agent hustled up to help with a hand on his elbow. I thought of taking my father’s other arm—but a sour glance from him stopped me. I let him go, not wanting to shame him further.

When he’d been placed upon a gurney and whisked to the hospital aboard an air car, I was accosted again by Miles Tannish.

“Would you like to accompany the Servant?” he asked.

I considered the offer. It might provide an opportunity to rekindle with my father. I could see the value in that, but I had other thoughts preoccupying my mind.

Shaking my head, I gestured toward the lectern and the twisted corpse that lay nearby. “I want to know more about her, first.”

Miles raised his eyebrows in surprise, but then nodded quickly and left. His pursed lips indicated he thought my interests were odd—but I didn’t care what he thought.

More men from various security details were arriving every minute, descending upon the ballroom. A bevy of agents cordoned off the area, and my guardsmen looked uncertain. Was this a planetary issue, thus under the jurisdiction of the Guard, or should we let the private forces handle it?

From the bottom of the steps, Rumbold called up to me. “Sir? Have a care—we don’t want to disturb the scene. Experts will be arriving soon. Your father’s party employs several detectives. You and I are guardsmen, not sleuths.”

“Point taken, Rumbold. But I’m not attempting to perform nanoscopic forensics. I merely wish to examine the creature that attacked my father.”

With a rumbling laugh, Rumbold shook his head. “I would have thought you’d done enough of that already this evening.”

I could have taken offense, but I chose not to. Rumbold was a good man, if an indelicate one.

The scene at the top of the steps was a mess. The corpse of the girl I’d stared at with such fascination was splayed in death on the floor. She’d been burned and disfigured by Rumbold’s power bolt.

The odd behavior she’d displayed and the unnatural pose of her body made me doubt she was human at all. Walking around her fallen form in a circle, I saw twisted black hair, charred flesh and those strange break-away limbs. Discarded fingers lay in a randomly scattered pattern, some of them sitting in the midst of dark blood-puddles on the marble.

Rumbold could not contain his own curiosity for long. He mounted the steps, grunting up behind me, and peered over my shoulder.

“Such a shame. A pretty girl—if she was one.”

“Look at the exposed left eye,” I said. “It’s artificial, I think.”

“How can you tell, sir? They grow these androids so perfectly now. It’s a wonder more men don’t wed them!”

“See there?” I asked. “The whites of her eyes are dry. No moisture at all. Even the most perfectly attractive woman in the world has tears and maybe a red squiggle or two in her eyes when you look up close.”

“Are you sure? There are mini-projectors to shroud every imperfection.”

My hand reached out to her power pack, a small box everyone wore at the waist these days. I shut it off, but we observed little change in her appearance.

“It’s off,” I said. “It’s reality we’re observing, not a fiction of light and shadow.”

“Huh,” Rumbold grunted. “If she’s artificial, why’d they put a power-pack on her at all?”

“Realism, perhaps? At the very least, something had to power the movement of the dress, and those earrings that shone like lasers.”

“Yes, right…”

Straightening up, I inhaled deeply. “She’s an android. A robot clothed in flesh and dressed up like a guest.”

“I see by your face that relieves you,” Rumbold said.

I noticed he was studying me, rather than the corpse.

“Aren’t you glad to know you didn’t shoot a real woman tonight?” I asked.

“If she’d been a human assassin, killing her would have been no less satisfactory to me.”

“I suppose,” I agreed, but I was still glad the creature on the floor was a simulation. I didn’t want to know in my heart I’d thrust my saber into a young woman’s back—even if she was a killer.

I stepped away from the scene, and Rumbold hurried after me.

“Excuse me, sir,” he called as I headed for the stairs to the roof.

“What is it now?”

“You aren’t thinking of leaving, are you? Captain Singh will be here shortly, and he’ll expect a full report from everyone.”

“All the more reason to move quickly.”

When I reached the roof I climbed into a waiting air car. The car was owned by my family and had been left behind for my use. Rumbold stood outside the canopy. His face was long, and he reminded me of a pet who was uncertain of its loyalties. I could tell he wanted to climb in at my side, but he felt he might be punished for it.

“Rumbold,” I shouted over the rising whine of the turbines. “Stay here, man. Make a report in my stead to Captain Singh. Tell him I was called away to my father’s side at the hospital.”

“Yes, sir,” he said promptly. “Will do! Best of luck.”

With a nod, I left him there on the roof. The car lifted on autopilot and glided toward the destination I’d punched in. Such was the speed of cross-town air travel that it took longer to lift off and land than it did to fly over the intervening kilometers.

My family’s security people met me at the entrance and gave me a hard look. Their suspicion quickly melted away when I was recognized. They appeared surprised to see me.

“Is my father all right?” I asked the nearest of the plainclothes agents.

“He’s alive, sir,” she said noncommittally. “We’re here to make sure he stays that way.”

I thought of pointing out that their security at the ballroom had been lacking, but I didn’t. No one had expected the assassination attempt. Kidnappings and the like
did
occur from time to time, but an outright attempt to kill a sitting Public Servant? That hadn’t been seen for decades. Possibly, I hadn’t even been born the last time it had happened.

Brushing past the agents, I headed inside. After a battery of formal identification procedures, I was at last escorted to Father’s private suite.

“William?” asked my father in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you. Don’t you have duties to attend to?”

“Yes father—that’s what I’m doing right now. The Guard was responsible for security at your speech, and it would appear to me that we failed you.”

“Nonsense. You killed the assassin in the end. How can I help you?”

“I need your assistance. I wish to investigate House Astra.”

“Do you think that would be wise? Won’t it be a little obvious if I send a family member under the guise of being a guardsman?”

“I
am
a guardsman.”

“Hmm, yes… I suppose you could be mistaken for a neutral party. But if I understand the situation, your Captain hasn’t officially assigned the investigation of the attack to you?”

“He hasn’t. That’s why I need your help to gain access to the Astra estate.”

Father frowned. “I see… You’ve never asked me for a favor of this nature before.”

“I’ve never witnessed the attempted assassination of a Servant before.”

“You’re requesting that I use my personal influence to get you assigned to this investigation—is that correct?”

“Yes.”

Thinking it over, Father finally nodded. “All right. It could be a good use of bargaining power. House Astra must be embarrassed to have been connected with this unfortunate affair. I’ll make the arrangements. Go now—your visit will be expected by the time you arrive.”

“Thank you, Father,” I said, and I turned to go.

Part of my busy mind wondered why I hadn’t inquired into the details of my father’s health. Wasn’t I concerned for his well-being? I took solace in the fact he’d looked better than when I’d last seen him. His face was no longer white and drawn. It was pink and hale again, flush with an infusion of fresh artificial blood and surgical nanites.

I asked that a guard be posted outside his room. Then, giving Father a nod, I left him there in his sick bed and made my way back into the general ward. It was there that my mother accosted me.

She was a Grantholm by birth. Twenty years my father’s junior, she was still quite old. My father was in his second century of life—but she wasn’t far behind him. Neither of them looked a day over forty, however, due to the miracles of longevity treatments that worked to weed out aging cells and encourage only the best to flourish.

“How are you, Mother?” I asked as she laid her hand upon the back of mine.

“You were hurt,” she said. It was not a question, but a state of fact. “I saw it, when the mad bitch stabbed you.”

“She only cut my clothing. And she was an android, mother. A simulacrum. A robot clothed in flesh.”

“You’re right of course. She only resembled a member of that House. Astra is our rival, but they would never do this to us.”

I frowned at her in confusion. I wasn’t quite sure what she was thinking. Was she angry with Astra or defending them? I suspected she was conflicted.

“Never mind, William,” she said. “Why are you here? What are you trying to accomplish?”

“I wanted to check on Father, naturally.”

She hesitated for a fraction of a second too long before responding.

“Naturally…” she said at last.

“What’s more, I’ve been assigned to investigate the attack,” I said.

“What?” she asked in alarm. “You? There are plenty of guardsmen and private agents who—”

“But none of them were personally involved.”

“I see,” she said. Her hand withdrew from mine, and she looked troubled.

I found this annoying, as I didn’t believe myself to be incompetent. “I’m proceeding to House Astra immediately. I’ll question their members.”

Her eyes widened. “Tonight? You can’t do that. It’s too soon.”

“Too soon? On the contrary. Any evidence might be gone by the time I get there if I delay.”

“House Astra isn’t our enemy, William. They’re not in our party, but we have long history of cooperation. The office of a Public Servant must be respected and—”

“Mother, if you don’t have anything specific to aid me in my investigation, I’m afraid I must go.”

“All right,” she said, “but I insist that you take a companion.”

“Agreed,” I said. “I was thinking of dragooning Rumbold for that job, but I left him behind at the scene of the crime.”

“Who’s Rumbold?” she asked in puzzlement. “Never mind. I’m talking about one of our most competent agents: Miles Tannish. I insist you take him with you.”

Wincing visibly, my face revealed my pain at her suggestion.

“What’s wrong with Tannish?” she demanded.

“He’s a sycophant of the lowest order.”

Her face took on a stern expression. “He’s an expert in delicate matters, and he understands House Astra’s eccentricities of protocol.”

“But this isn’t a matter of pomp and circumstance! Father has been attacked—apparently by a member of their House. They should be anxious to clear their names.”

She shook her head bemusedly. “You demonstrate your ignorance of the situation with every word. They’re probably highly embarrassed, but that only means they’ll want nothing more than to forget about the incident entirely.”

“I will not allow that.”

“Your attitude confirms my worst fears.”

“Don’t you want to know the truth?” I demanded.

“Of course I do,” she said in a softer tone, “but this must be done delicately. You have doggedness, son, and wit, but you lack the appropriate sense of decorum. Take Miles with you. He’ll guide you and soften your demeanor. House Astra has already suffered a blow to their honor tonight, and we can’t afford—”

“Surely you’re not serious,” I interrupted. “It is
our
House that has suffered. They should be more than willing to consult with me, if only due to their apparent guilt. Let them
prove
they’re innocent.”

She sighed and tapped her neck just behind her ear. She stopped walking with me and her gaze became unfixed. I knew she was making a call, and that the interior of her retina was now displaying data.

After taking two steps farther, I spun on my heel and looked back. “Mother, who are you contacting?”

“I’m going to change your father’s mind. There’s no point in sending you—I can’t believe he approved of the idea in the first place. Possibly, it’s due to the drugs in his system.”

Reversing my march, I returned to her side. My expression had transformed into one of irritation. “Please disconnect. I’ll take Tannish, if I must.”

“Yes dear?” she said, talking to no one I could see. “How are you holding up? Sleeping…? Of course, forgive me. I’ll check on you again in the morning. I’ll see that there are no further interruptions.”

She tapped behind her ear again. Her eyes returned to my face and refocused there. She allowed herself a tiny smile of victory.