Morgan's Choice (12 page)

The last light was draining from the sky when
the skimmer slowed and stopped in front of high gates. Lakshman
flashed a card out of the window and the gates slid apart. The
skimmer drove on.

A dark garden crowded close to both sides of
a wide, curved driveway. Something large bounded out of the
shrubbery to pace effortlessly along beside the vehicle. Jones
couldn’t see the beast properly but some primal instinct told him
he didn’t want to come face to face with it. They passed out from
under overhanging trees into an open space in front of a well-lit
house. Three people dressed in red ran down a shallow flight of
steps to meet them. One man called the beast that had followed
them, an enormous black brute with red eyes. It glowered at the car
and snarled its reluctance before it responded to a second, more
urgent call. Jones watched it lope away. Not a place to walk around
the garden at night, no indeed.

The vehicle’s door had opened. One of the
fellows stood expressionless, waiting for him to alight while the
other performed the same service for Lakshman. Jones climbed out
and gaped at a huge house, rather like the mansions favored by the
rich and famous in the Coalition.

The place seemed new, built of some
unfamiliar material that glowed like cold and eerie moonlight. The
building itself looked like somebody’s mangled memory of a
fairytale palace, all turrets and arches, narrow windows and
strange embellishments like ugly heads or peculiar, malformed
creatures. What they were for was anybody’s guess.

“
It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” Lakshman’s
feet crunched on gravel as he walked around to join Jones.
“Asbarthi had it designed to emulate the ninth epoch of our
civilization. Most of the grand homes of that period were destroyed
by war. Needless to say, it has all the modern features as well.”
Smiling he directed Jones toward the front door. “We’re
expected.”

Another red-suited servant opened the door
and led the two men down a corridor, its walls decorated with
frescoes and hangings, the tiled floor inlaid with what appeared to
be gold. They were ushered into a room even more opulent than the
corridor, a sitting room furnished in an elaborate style. Too much
furniture stood on a thick, multi-colored carpet, pictures in heavy
frames crowded the walls. Jones found it all overwhelming and
tasteless, even if it oozed wealth.

“Asbarthi.” Lakshman stepped forward to meet
the man rising out of a chair. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you.” The man gripped Lakshman’s forearm
as the two shared a bow. His gaze flicked to Jones, avidly curious.
“And this is your unusual friend.”

“It is,” replied Lakshman. “Tony Jones,
please meet Sitivan Asbarthi.”

Jones bowed, arms at his side, making sure
his stance was suitably respectful. “A pleasure,
Srimana
,” he
said with a pleasant smile. “You have a most remarkable house. It
is truly magnificent.”

Asbarthi made an expansive gesture with
his arm. “Please, do sit down. We do not use
Srimana
. It is a military term. Call me
Sur
or Asbarthi.” He sat back in a
chair and linked his hands in a steeple. “We’ll be taking you
off-planet very soon, but you’ll have time for dinner. I’ve been
most anxious to meet you.”

“Oh?”

“
Lakshman has told us about you. He has
contacts on Ravindra’s flagship.” Asbarthi accepted a glass from a
servant’s golden tray. “And you know, of course, that we are
Bunyada
.”

“I’d assumed so.” Jones examined the contents
of the tray the servant offered him and opted for a short glass
containing pale blue liquor.

“
The place you come from does not have
classes.” Asbarthi crossed one leg over the other. “You are not
dominated by Mirka.” He almost spat the word. “You can see, looking
around you, that I am enormously wealthy. Yet I can take no part in
ruling the planet I live on.”

“Yes, so I understand.” Jones sipped
diffidently at the glass. It was deceptive, mild on the tongue
until you swallowed. After all this time without alcohol, he’d best
be careful. “I can see you’d find that frustrating and I’d be happy
to help your cause however I can.” As long as they paid him for his
effort.

“You have heard the legend that before the
classes separated, the manesa had different eyes. Like yours.”
Asbarthi walked over to a tall cabinet, unlocked it and extracted
what looked to Jones like a piece of broken tile.

“This is extremely rare and very valuable.”
He held the piece so Jones could see it. The fragment showed the
heads of a man and a woman and for a moment, Jones wondered why he
was being shown it—until he realized that the eyes were like human
eyes, his eyes.

Asbarthi smiled when Jones sucked in
breath. “You are a living example of what we
Bunyada
believe—that the Mirka have usurped their
power, that they have no mandate to rule the rest of us. There is
no reason why men of wealth and substance should not participate in
ruling their own planets—or, indeed, why non-Mirka officers should
not command the Fleet’s ships.”

“
I agree,” Jones did his best to project
good will and honest determination. Lakshman had mentioned payment
but how to steer the conversation? “I agree completely. But how can
I help you?”

It was a moment before Asbarthi answered.
First, he locked the broken fragment away with care and reverence,
as though it was a religious icon—which, Jones acknowledged, it
probably was. A pottery fragment. Where did it come from? What did
it really mean? Was it real? Easy enough to create a fragment to
support a legend. Maybe even an illustration of the legend.

“
That piece comes from an archaeological
dig,” Asbarthi said as he returned to his seat. “Some believe it
merely illustrates a story.” His eyes narrowed and it seemed to
Jones they almost glowed as he continued, “But I believe it’s true.
And now we have you.” He smiled and the glow faded. “You are a
legend come to life. You can help us to persuade the nay sayers. Of
course, you will be well compensated.”

This was sounding better. “What sort of
compensation?”

Asbarthi waved a hand. “Property, money,
women. We are wealthy,
Sur
Jones.”

Wow. And an hour or two ago he was watching
dust motes in a cell. “On that basis I’m happy to assist.”

“Excellent,” Asbarthi said, clapping his
hands together.

Lakshman leaned forward in his chair. “We
would also like to discuss with you your companion,
Suri
Selwood. Before she died, Indra
Sayvu told her father the woman could actually run a battle cruiser
by herself.”

“
Yes, that’s true.” Jones hoped. He’d told
Sayvu that, but he couldn’t be certain. But then, he knew Selwood
could pilot small ships. A battle cruiser was just a larger ship,
after all. And she had a military background.

“Could she also destroy a ship?”

“Oh, yes.” No doubt about that, he was sure.
Jones smiled his winning smile. “But she’d have to be persuaded.
She’s not the easiest person in the universe.”

Asbarthi gave that sharp ‘yes’ nod. “We have
heard that also. But you were able to persuade her to accompany
Sayvu in your escape attempt.”

“You want me to persuade her to help you?
Well, yes, I’m sure I can do that. After all, I already did. But…
she’s still on the warship, isn’t she?” They’d better not expect
him to go back there. Never.

“She is. But we have arrangements in place,”
Lakshman said.

“What sort of arrangements?” Jones said.

“You need not know,” Asbarthi said, rising to
his feet. “Come. It is time to eat.”

Chapter
Thirteen

“Oh, wow. You have vision of the mother
ship?” Selwood could barely contain her excitement, her silver eyes
gleaming against her golden skin.

Ravindra smiled. He’d come to look forward to
his evening chats with her, even when she came close to unseemly
behavior, as she was now, when her gaze met his for far too long.
Maybe he was mellowing, understanding that for her it wasn’t
rudeness. “You wish to see?”

“Wish to see? Do the stars burn?”

“
It is not a pretty sight,
Suri
.” He
switched on the HV and selected a channel. “This is classified, of
course.”

“Have you collected some of the signals?” she
said, her gaze on the screen.

“Yes, SenComm Hanestran already has the data.
He’ll have it analyzed for tomorrow.” He decided to overlook her
omission of a respectful reference to his title.

She nodded her head several times, a gesture
he had come to learn meant ‘yes’, not ‘yes no’.

The mother ship appeared, a vast menace
spewing its spawn into space. Selwood leant forward, all her
concentration on the screen. When the mother ship attacked
Ajagara
, she
stopped the picture and replayed the scene several
times.

When the vid finished she sighed. “He tried
to ram the mother ship.”

“Yes.”

She turned to him, her eyes glistening even
more than usual. “Did anyone survive?”

“Not on the frigate. A very few on the
planet. We have sent warnings to planetary administrations and
placed warships where we have guessed the greatest danger may be.
Some people escaped to shelters.”

She looked away as if remembering her
manners and a gleam of red shimmered as she ran a hand through her
hair. “I’m hoping we can analyze the signals from the mother ship
and reactivate the
Yogina
fighter.
But that won’t help you combat the mother ship. I’ve never seen
anything like it. It was as though the ship absorbed the energy
from what was fired at it.”

“Yes, that is also what we thought. Have you
encountered such a device?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’ll need to think
on that.”

She sat opposite him, demure in the red gown,
which revealed nothing. Not like the dress she’d tried to wear to
the mess. He’d thought about that dress often, lately. Or rather,
the body inside it. He dashed the thought away.

Ravindra picked up the glass at his elbow
and stared at the liquor, red and smooth as the dress. The scooped
neckline, the hint of breast, the way it clung to her waist and
hips. The room felt hot. Or maybe he did. “A drink,
Suri
?”

“Thank you, no.”

Tullamarran finished clearing the plates.
Ravindra dismissed him with a gesture and turned his gaze back to
Selwood. Even in the shapeless dress she wore she enticed him.

She met his eyes, a momentary flash of
silver. “If we’ve finished talking, Admiral, I will—”

“Are you bound? To a man?” He blurted the
words.

Her eyebrows arched but she relaxed back onto
the couch. “It hardly matters, does it?”

“Indulge me.”

She shrugged. “No, I’m not bound.”

How to put this? “Tell me, in your society,
the world you come from, are you considered beautiful?”

She laughed and her mercury eyes gleamed.
“Me? I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” He rummaged around for words.
“What I mean is that if your skin was the color of mine and your
eyes like ours you would be considered a beautiful woman.”

“So not beautiful at all. Not here, not
there. I’m as much an alien in my own society as I am in yours,
Admiral. It’s these eyes, you know. And the hardware here.” She
tapped her forehead. “I frighten people.” Her shoulders jerked in a
barely perceptible shrug.

“But surely your father would consider an
offer for you?”

She laughed again. “It doesn’t work like
that, not on the world I come from. We make our own choices. But I
expect my father would have accepted just about any offer he could
get for me, right from when I was a little girl. Then again, I
suppose you could say I was offered to the military, when I was
born.”

He detected an old sadness, quickly covered
up. “So. How does it work on your world?”

“You meet somebody, you fall in love, you…
get bound. Me, I met a man I worked with. A pilot. We were both
young and silly, fell into bed and screwed each other senseless.”
She cleared her throat, brought her hand up to her mouth. “What I
mean is we mistook lust for love, so we bound ourselves
together.”

Screwed each other senseless. Noted. “When
did he die?”

She stared at him for a moment too long but
he would forgive her that.

“He’s not dead. We just agreed to terminate
the arrangement. He got himself bound to someone else and last I
heard they had three children.”

Bound to someone else? Break an
arrangement?

She grinned. “I take it you don’t do that?
Terminate an arrangement?”

“No. When a couple is bound, it is for
life.”

“I like our version better. People make
mistakes. You didn’t choose your partner?”

“No. The choice was made by our fathers. My
father offered for her.”

“Military families?”

“
Of course.
Darya
families.”

“Are you happy together?”

He hadn’t seen her much. She’d kept his
house, his lands; borne his children. Now, two years on, he found
it difficult to dredge up a memory of her face. “We were happy
enough. She died.”

“I’m sorry.” A small, contrite smile twitched
her mouth.

“She had a dangerous hobby, taming Vulsaurs.
They are flying beasts native to my planet. Two years ago, one
killed her.”