FLETCHER

The Bright Star honor grants provide loyal Bright Star retainers and Thirteenth System combatants with the opportunity to claim land using award points rather than financial means. In addition to rewarding the honor and dedication of these retainers, the honor bidding will ensure that those with holdings closest to critical regions are proven in their loyalty. The contractual requirement that holdings be at fifty percent within five years will minimize speculation and encourage the rapid settlement of agrarian areas needed to support the long-term exploitation of the Thirteenth System.

The commerce bidding process will follow standard commerce, with pre-qualified enterprises invited to present the most attractive financial bids in return for extended licenses in the Thirteenth System. ~ excerpt, Thirteenth System Development Plan, Bright Star archives

Passing beneath the worked gold of the Blooded Dagger Cartouche emblem, Clarice entered Monsignor Lucius’ commerce suite and turned toward Lilian’s office. Other than Lilian, only the elite of Blooded Dagger seigneurs had offices in this suite. While many believed Lucius Mercio wished to keep his consort close, Seigneur Marco was quick to remind the cartel that the vistrite conservator was always close to the Blooded Dagger preeminence. Of course, Seigneur Marco had been beyond thrilled to hand over vistrite conservatorship to Lilian and return to the adventure of Bright Star. If it was not for the fact that Lilian was with child, she would be joining the voyage to the new vistrite deposit.

Inside the office, Chrys and Rebecca were already on the sofa with Lilian, all three Thornscore governors at the center of the meeting. Rebecca had her hand on Chrys’ shoulder. “Worry naught. Tabitha and I will aid with Roland.”

Roland. Chrys discovered his five-year-old son a month gone, while on Genji. He brought the boy home to Crevasse City, and it had not yet been a full sevenday and Chrys was leaving for Fortuna.

Verity had pulled a chair as close to Chrys as was proper. “There is yet time to alter the travel arrangements. With Drake to tend to Roland, it would be no different from the voyage from Genji.”

Chrys shook his head. “It would be too unsettling. He will do better to remain. He adores Douglas and trusts Drake.”

Clarice settled into a free chair. Drake was one of Chrys’ endless array of cousins hired to provide Roland with supervision and companionship while Chrys tended to commerce. The young man had proven willing and able to defend Roland at risk to his own life. That Douglas and Chrys shared quarters meant Roland could remain in Chrys’ home.

Douglas nodded, crossing his legs. “We will need to get Rebecca and Tabitha introduced. Dinner this night?”

Rebecca shook her head. “I have duty that may keep me late in the cartel. On the morrow?”

Chrys rubbed his jaw. “It might be better to spread out the introductions. I will speak with Simon. He will wish to attend with Tabitha. Rebecca, Malcon is welcome to join us, next eve.”

There was no sign of the other three Thornscore principals, and the last, Pippa, resided on Fortuna. She attended via visual conference for critical meetings, but this one had come up too quickly to make the arrangements. Clarice asked, “Are we expecting Tabitha, Simon or Malcon?”

Lilian shook her head. “This is it. Will you open the meeting?”

Clarice activated her slate. “Six out of ten principals and all three governors. We have a quorum.”

Lilian glanced at her slate. Tall and slender, with deep-gray eyes, defined features, and red hair so dark it appeared black in the tight binding of a warriors’ queue, one of the Thirteen Systems’ most deadly combatants was not so much lovely as arresting. In her understated manner, Lilian was as formidable as Monsignor Lucius. For truth, Clarice was inclined to believe the claims that her friend had been touched by the Five Warriors and Adelaide. A lesser mortal would not be able to withstand the force of Monsignor Lucius’ personality.

Oblivious to Clarice’s thoughts, Lilian said, “Chrys, Verity, and Clarice are leaving for Fortuna on Second Day to come. They will be in Fort Rimon when the Bright Star honor-point tracts are released for bid at midday on settlement day. Although Monsignor will favor Blooded Dagger bids for the tracts near the vistrite crevasse, ours will not be the only bids. We cannot risk delay. Even though the bidding does not close until dark of night, time of receipt will decide a tie.”

By pooling their awards, Thornscore had points for forty-two tracts. If they could acquire predominantly arable land with good water, it would be the foundation for a small agra-cohort. The points per tract were fixed. The bidding focused on Thornscore’s plan to develop the land, its financial capabilities, and ability to provide the skills and labor needed to meet the requirement for fifty-percent cultivation within five years.

Douglas’ green eyes narrowed. A handsome man with a warrior’s build, his aquiline features and blade nose give him the air of hawk. His expression was every bit a predator. “Has it been confirmed that Thornscore will be treated as a Blooded Dagger retainer?”

“All three governors are Blooded Dagger and, based on shares, Blooded Dagger retainers control the enterprise.” Lilian’s lips curled in a faint smile. “Even Monsignor Horatio cannot quarrel with the math.”

The wily preeminence of the Thirteen Systems’ most powerful cartel, Horatio Margovian chafed at his position of junior partner in Bright Star. He was constantly seeking advantage.

“Well enough.” Douglas turned to Chrys. “With the time difference, you will need to rise before dawn and select the tracts for bidding.”

Their only member from an agrarian background, Chrys had studied the Nightingale surveys and identified the most desirable sections of the areas surrounding the crevasse. But until the tracts were released, they would not know the configuration.

Stretching out his long legs, Chrys smiled. “Seigneur Rachelle has granted my petition for a full day of liberty.”

The five annual settlement days included a half day of liberty starting at midday. It was the day contracted payments were due, including protégé and associate compensation. Lines of credit were brought current along with lease and purchase agreements. Chrys’ protégé contract included generous provisions for liberty, but using those days required Seigneur Rachelle’s approval

“I will petition Seigneur Herman for the same.” Clarice mentally chided herself. “I should have thought of it sooner, but I have been immersed in Fortuna legalistics.”

Verity shifted in her seat. “I will petition Seigneur Kemeha, but unless Fletcher wishes the morning at liberty, I doubt I will gain consent.”

Lilian’s chin lifted. “He will be at Katleen’s cotillion. Fletcher, that is. I can suggest he take the morning.”

Rebecca snorted. “You have no idea, do you?”

“You think Fletcher would refuse me?”

Laughing softly, Rebecca shook her head. “I think that the cotillion will be Monsignor’s first entertainment since you returned to Crevasse City as his consort. You will be fortunate to have two breaths to call your own.”

At the murmurs and nods of agreement from the group, Lilian flushed. “It is supposed to be Katleen’s night.”

Chrys gave Lilian’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “It will be. Thornscore will make certain. But Rebecca is correct; you will not have an opportunity for quiet speech with Fletcher.”

“I can speak with Fletcher.” The words were out of Clarice’s mouth before she finished thinking. But it made sense. “We are both of Iron Hammer, and I can find opportunity outside of Katleen’s cotillion.”

Fletcher centered his weight on the training mats, hyperaware of Seigner Thorvald’s critical gaze and the master medic’s watchful one. At least they were using a closed match chamber to assess his control and not one of the heavily populated training chambers.

A year gone, Fletcher would have relished displaying his martial-arts skill for Serengeti’s Training and Militia Seigneur; now it was an ordeal. One where he must prove he had sufficient control of his prosthetics to be allowed to make the voyage to the Thirteenth System.

The still flame is power contained. Focusing his mind, he slid into the first movements of Mulan’s discipline. The stylized movements were an elegant dance designed to warm and flex every muscle in preparation for combat. With each movement, his limbs became more liquid, the infinitesimally faster response of his right limbs clashing with the extra strength in his left.

The forge flame strengthens and shapes. The heavy bag flashed a light at hip height, and he threw a kick. More lights flashed, scattered over the surface. Striking at the targets, his movements increased. Each hit was a point in his favor. Each miss a loss. The constant shifting of his balance increased the dissonance in his limbs. An accomplished fighter, he had compensated for a weaker left side for so long that it required intense concentration to control the shift in strength.

The wild flame destroys and cleanses. Beams shot from the device, forcing him to blend defense with attack. The lights would not hurt him, but every touch scored against his performance. Springing into the fierce gymnastics of his discipline, he let momentum carry him, minimizing the thrust of his metal arm and leg to avoid a repeat of his collision with Clarice.

The timer chimed and Chin heaved a satisfied sigh. “From all appearances, you have mastered your new limbs. For the next year, quarterly checks will suffice.”

Pleased to be released from the medic’s constant attention, Fletcher promised to visit the Serengeti clinic and dispensary before the end of the day to record his new baseline. Turning to Seigneur Thorvald, he hoped for similar approval and, instead, received a frown.

Serengeti’s battle general was a tall, broad-shouldered, heavily muscled man with a scarred face and cold blue eyes. Intimidating at the best of times, his frown could generate fear in the most stalwart of warriors. Stiffening his alloy-enhanced spine, Fletcher lifted his chin.

Thorvald’s frown eased. “Peace. Had I no knowledge of your prosthetics, it would be difficult to discern.”

“You are not maximizing your increased strength.” The frown returned. “In battle, you must use all your abilities to the maximum. In training as well, if you are to have control. It is one thing to strike with intent, another by lack of control.”

The seigneur knew about Fletcher’s collision with Clarice. Lifting his arms straight out, Fletcher turned his hands palms up. “They look identical. Before, the left was slightly smaller. Gloves were always a bit loose.”

Thorvald’s expression softened. “I cannot imagine how odd that must feel.” His tone became bracing. “Odd or not, you need a training regimen that will give you control of your alloy limbs at their full capabilities. You can start by setting all the training devices to maximum impact. Do not spar with any but a master until you have my approval.”

Fireballs. Practicing with mechanized partners was nowhere near as effective as a live partner, and discipline masters were not easy to schedule beyond headquarters. “As Seigneur wills. Thank you for the instruction.”

Fletcher reached for his water vial and towel.

Thorvald grunted and held up a finger. “Your planned flyer exercises in the Fourth System are one matter. If a flyer is damaged there, it is readily repaired. In the Thirteenth System, it is not so. If Captain Raleigh wills it, you may pilot a DOP-C, but a Nightingale flyer is out of the question.

A DOP-C, as the Damaris Orbit to Planet Carrier was known, was a small cargo and personnel shuttle with half the maximum velocity of a flyer and no ability for extended stellar transit. But they could and did land on Bright Star Prime and Deuce. Somehow, Fletcher would persuade Raleigh into allowing a DOP-C. “Yes, Seigneur.”