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The shuttle trip from Corant had been long and boring, and the young space traveler found himself growing weary, even at such an early hour. He yawned hard and then rubbed at his eyes, stopping after a few seconds to check his reflection in the mirrored doors of the lifter. He found to his displeasure that the natural hazel of his irises were surrounded by red veins of fatigue.
He assessed the rest of his appearance with a critical eye, moving the gold starburst medallion he wore to just below his family crest, where it was much more likely to be noticed. The pin was emblematic of his status as class valedictorian at the Imperial Director’s Academy. The symbolic meaning of the crest, however, a shield of four white stars and one gold one, chevron of orange, and three boar’s heads, was lost on him. He made a mental note to research its origins in the family histories now that he would have so much more leisure time.
A series of gentle tugs from artificial gravity fields pulled at him as the lifter passed through deck after deck of the mammoth Starliner Vixis. He had studied the Starliners, equal parts luxury liner and warship, during his five years at the Academy. The Emperor himself used the twelve ancient vessels of the Starliner Fleet to maintain peace across a hundred Habitable Worlds, and despite his five years of seasoning on Corant the young man was still excited by the prospect of traveling on one.
Satisfied with his appearance for the moment, he buttoned up his formal blue waist jacket a final time and then closed his eyes. He took in a deep breath, linking his breathing to the rhythmic hum of the lifter, willing himself to accept the excitement of his circumstances and put away his fatigue. A soft bell chime indicated that he had arrived at the dinner deck. He opened his eyes again as the lifter doors parted, and stepped out into a glittering twilight wonderland.
The dining hall was laid out in three tiers with a balcony above, the bar underneath on the main level, and a sunken dining deck below to his right. Huge view windows showcased a dazzling three-story starscape, with the golden-green globe of Corant hanging in space above them.
The dining deck was furnished with row after row of tables and private dinner booths that curved away from where he stood into the distance and out of his sight. Diners engaged in noisy chatter throughout the lounge, basking in candlelight glow as they conversed. The gentle clinking of glasses, the exotic smells of finely prepared meals and the music of the dinner orchestra combined to give the room a delightful ambiance. In this atmosphere of unrestrained opulence these scenes were being repeated many times. A Starliner was outward bound from the Imperial capitol, Corant, with the only travelers allowed in these luxurious surroundings being the royal elite of the Imperium, and of course, their servants.
He absorbed it all as best he could, then stepped forward as the maître d', a sharp looking gray-haired man in formal attire, nodded to him.
“At your service, Sir,” said the maître d' in a gravelly voice.
“Is there time to get dinner before the jump?”
The maître d' nodded. “Yes sir. I’m sure I can seat you at a table that would be to your liking. Would you prefer a private booth, or perhaps some stimulating conversation?”
The young man smiled at the latter suggestion. “That would be nice, thank you. Some good dinner conversation would be most enjoyable.” Not to mention give him the opportunity to make new acquaintances.
“I just need your name sir.”
The young man cleared his throat. “I’m Sire Dane Cochrane, of Quantar.”
The maître d' silently scanned the manifest. It took longer than he expected, and Dane fingered his jacket sash nervously as a line of patrons began to form behind him. Finally the maître d' spoke.
“Ah. Here you are, Sire. We’ve been expecting you,” he continued to look down at the manifest for a few more moments, keying notes into the pad, then turned his full attention to Dane.
“I’ve a fine table with some guests I’m sure you’ll find stimulating conversationalists, and you may call me Arimel if you wish. Please, follow me, Sire.” Arimel gestured towards the dinner deck with a broad sweep of his hand. Dane noted the quick switch from the less formal ‘sir’ to the proper honoraria of ‘Sire’ once the man had discovered he was catering to royalty. As they walked the maître d' explained about the guests with whom Dane would be sharing dinner.
“Dr. Christian Rijkard is a prominent exo-archeologist from the Imperial University on Corant. He’s traveling to Danion’s World for a working vacation. He has some interesting theories on mankind’s origins and the Sol system, I’m told.
“Sire Sunil Katara is heir to the Chair of Jalesh, a young man of about your age and similar breeding. A polo player and a fine athlete, so the manifest says,” he continued.
Dane nodded as the maître d' described the next pair of guests, a middle-aged couple named Harrington from Pendax, on the Frontier. Traders by business, they amounted to a merchant prince and his consort. Not usually the type for sophisticated conversations, but then you never knew.
“And lastly, Sire, there is a young woman. Lady Calinda Anay is from an executive family on Beta Sorel. I did not seat her myself, but I’m told she is quite striking.”
“Really?” said Dane, feigning disinterest but picking up his pace at this welcome news. The chance to entertain a lady’s company for the evening in this palace of wonders was more than he could hope for.
They approached a large table in the middle of the dining deck. He quickly identified his most likely competition for the lady’s interest, Katara, and the Harrington’s easily enough. Katara was handsome, to Dane’s disappointment, with short hair and the dark Arabic features of his home world. The Harrington’s were both enormously large and rather informally dressed for dinner, much as Dane would expect from Frontiersmen. They also clearly wanted for little in material terms judging from the ample jewels on Mrs. Harrington’s stubby neck and fingers. The thin man who could only be Dr. Rijkard sat puffing a cigar in his formal dinner clothes, gray smoke matching his hair and full beard. He observed Dane with the keen interest, eying him askance as he approached. To Rijkard’s left, illuminated in profile, sat the lone unaccompanied female, no doubt the Lady Calinda of Beta Sorel.
Arimel introduced Dane around the table, Mr. Harrington rising first to shake his hand, an overly strong grip that lingered longer than Dane wanted. “Welcome!” he blurted out in a clipped colonial accent from beneath a substantial pair of handle-barred mustache wings. Katara was friendly and motioned for Dane to sit next to him, across from Rijkard and the Lady. Rijkard nodded his welcome and flicked the embers of his cigar, then returned to his quiet conversation with Mrs. Harrington. To Dane’s disappointment, the Lady Calinda scarcely acknowledged him at all, barely nodding without looking up and then reaching a hand out to Rijkard to gain his attention, speaking to him in whispered tones.
Once he had sat down, a hostess prodded Dane with a dinner menu as Arimel departed with a bow. Dane casually selected an 80-year aged armagnac as a cocktail without really knowing what he was ordering, having merely recognized the drink from labels he had seen in his father’s stocks. His drink was promptly served and he ordered wild quarterboar for dinner, an old favorite, then swished the amber armagnac slowly in his glass before finally turning his attention to his dinner companions.
“You’ll find her a difficult nut to crack.”
Dane turned to Sunil Katara, on his left. “I’m sorry?” Katara nodded, speaking softly.
“The Lady Calinda. Been cold as ice to me all night. Maybe you’ll have better luck, eh Cochrane?”
Dane smiled, Katara’s voice was smooth and he carried an air of sophistication, something Dane aspired to. His retort was quick. “I did wonder why you gave up the seat closest to her so easily. And you can call me Dane.”
Katara smiled back and shrugged. “Very well Dane, and you may call me Sunil. But I will tell you, the Jalesh know a hopeless cause when we see one, and she is hopeless. And anyway, my father sent a pair of girls from our embassy on Corant to keep me company. They’re two doors down from my cabin, so if we get bored later...” he tipped his wine glass to Dane before taking a sip.
Dane stole a glance at the Lady Calinda, now involved in a deep but quiet conversation with the doctor. Even with her head turned away from him it was apparent her beauty was something special. “I appreciate the offer, Sunil. Think I’ll still take my chances with the Lady, though.”
Katara raised his glass. “As you wish. My offer is good for the night!” Then he laughed and drank, and Dane laughed with him.
“So tell me young Cochrane,” it was Mr. Harrington, bellowing through the other conversations. “What brings you to this table? What journey of discovery are you on?”
“Come now Admar!” It was Rijkard now, interceding on Dane’s behalf. “Leave the lad alone! He’s only just boarded and he’s hungry, and not even drunk yet!”
Dane responded before the frontiersman could. “Really, it’s not a problem, doctor. I’m more than happy to talk about my travels.”
Harrington snorted loudly. “Do tell, young lad! Do tell!”
Rijkard shook his head. “Admar! You really are too much.”
“I am, am I? I’m sure the young one won’t be wasting our time with tales of forgotten alien artifacts on the moons of Earth!”
“Admar, you know full well Earth only has one moon.”
“So I do. What’s the other planet called?”
“Mars.”
“Yes, that’s it, Mars! The doctor’s been weaving a tale all night about how we humans originated on Mars! Have you ever heard the like?”
Dane could only smile at the rugged man, laughing inside at the exchange. “Never, Mr. Harrington. Does sound interesting though.”
The next voice cut through the conversation, low and rough. “So, now that you’ve had your fill of these cads, young Sire, tell us as you’ve promised, what adventures bring you to board the Vixis this night?”
Dane turned his attention fully to the Lady Calinda. The soft music of the dining hall orchestra seemed to fade away into the background as he looked directly into her face for the first time.
She had long auburn hair draped down to her shoulders and colored perfectly to match her evening gown. The shoulders were bare, a row of ruffled roses playing across the bodice of the gown, which clung neatly to an athletic but very feminine physique. Her skin was like white pearl, glowing smooth and flawless in the gentle amber candlelight. Her face was elegantly oval; the nose thin and strong, cheekbones high and sharp, lips full, with lipstick precisely colored again to match her dress. And all of it concluded in the most piercing green eyes Dane had ever seen.
Then he realized he’d been holding his breath the entire time he was looking at her.
Absently he gulped down more of his drink, to calm his nerves. After a long moment that seemed to hang in the air like the doctor’s cigar smoke he managed to respond. “Actually, I’ve just completed my studies at the Imperial Director’s Academy on Corant, and I’m returning home to Quantar, via the Imperial port at Callis. I’ve been away for five years.”
“Really?” the lady leaned forward, showing interest. “I find that fascinating! To be tested and trained to lead the family Directorships. To think the future of not only your family, but of the whole Corporate Empire rests on the shoulders of just a few young men. It must have been very exciting.”
Dane heard Katara shifting uncomfortably in the chair next to next to his, obviously bothered by the level of interest the Lady Calinda was showing in him. Dane leaned closer to her across the table, his confidence building. “It was, but it was also very strenuous. In the end, though, the reward was worth it.”
She shook her head. “What reward?”
He pointed proudly to the valedictorian pin on his tunic. “I graduated top of a class of fifty,” he said. “Only a thousand Directorships in the whole Empire, and I owed my father that.”
The lady was inquisitive now. “Your father? I don’t understand. What did you owe him?”
All eyes at the table turned to him now and the other conversations stopped. He had unwittingly focused all the attention on himself. Dane contemplated the Lady Calinda, weighing the risk of losing her attentions versus the revelation of his family secret to a table full of strangers. It was a fact that if they were ever to become more than mere acquaintances, they would all know eventually, based on their rank and standing. He took another drink of the armagnac, glanced once around the table, and made his decision, addressing Calinda.
“My older brother, Arin, was first in line to succeed to the Quantar Directorship. He was in his last semester at the Academy when he was caught cheating and expelled.” He looked down at the table and shrugged, as if he could physically shake off the humiliation he felt. “It was a small mistake. A simple hole in a computational matrix that allowed him to solve a certain equation more rapidly. He never thought it might be a test of character. I felt very sorry for him, but when he was sent home in disgrace it fell to me to attempt to regain my family’s honor,” he looked up at her again, “For my father.”
The Lady Calinda waited only a moment before replying. “There are some who would disagree as to whether your ‘family honor’ was worth regaining.”
Dane stared at her in stunned surprise, unsure at first that he had heard her correctly. Mr. Harrington cleared his throat and rustled in his chair, glancing towards his wife, who sat silently clutching her wine goblet. Sunil Katara took a large gulp of his wine and then quickly refilled the glass. Dr. Rijkard merely puffed further on his cigar, observing the exchange.
Calinda smiled thinly at Dane as she continued. “As all of us at this table have heard, according to the news reports, some rebels to your father’s rule have sprung up.”
This second comment shook Dane from his stupor. He was trained well enough to know an advancing adversary when he saw one, even when the weapons were words instead of coil rifles. He sat back in his armchair, putting some distance between himself and Calinda, to let her know of his displeasure. He locked eyes with her for several seconds, and then drained his glass, setting it down sharply on the table. “I’m afraid you are misinformed, Lady. My father kept in touch with me monthly, and the only trouble he ever reported was news of raids by mining pirates in the outer asteroids. Mere criminals, madam.”
Lady Calinda showed no sign of retreat, and in fact pressed on. “With all due respect Sire, that is not consistent with the news reports as I have read them,” her tone now seemed openly disrespectful. “They say, your father’s personal and political losses have turned him evil. They say, he commits atrocities against his own people, and that he has become a tyrant.”
Dane’s anger peaked with the cumulative effects of the liquor and the lady’s insults. He leaned forward, unwavering, while trying to keep his voice as even as he could.
“Never. Not my father. They’re criminals, nothing more.”
Their eyes remained locked for several moments. He sensed an anger equal to his own in her, and then watched it vanish again as quickly as it had appeared. Lady Calinda lowered her eyes and leaned back in her dinner chair.
“I’ve upset you, Sire. That was not my intent.”
Despite her attempted apology Dane felt compelled into action by his anger and stood to leave, tossing his napkin on the table in disgust. This time he could not keep his voice from rising. “Whatever your intent, Lady, you’ve succeeded in ruining my desire for your company.” He looked around the table to the other guests. “Good evening to you all. I apologize for my abrupt departure, but I find I’ve lost my appetite for dinner.” At that he walked rapidly away from the table. It only took the Lady Calinda a moment to gather herself and respond.
“Wait! Please!” She stood and ran after him as he retreated through the dining hall, heads turning one after another to follow them. He was a good distance from their table and still walking fast when she caught up to him in a service hallway, grabbing him by the arm. He yanked himself free of her and continued down the hall without turning back. At this she removed her shoes and started after him at a near run, no easy feat in the evening gown.
“Dane, wait! Let me apologize!” He slowed his pace only slightly as she caught up to him and then pushed him against the corridor wall with surprising strength. A few curious wait staff glanced down from the kitchen at the commotion, then went on about their business, leaving the two of them alone. Dane fought the desire to push her away and go on. A moment later he was glad he didn’t. She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him with as much passion as there had been anger only a few moments before. Dane felt himself respond to her kiss, automatically returning her passion. A second later it was over and she pushed away, her head bowed down in shame and her voice a quiet echo of her previous forcefulness.
“I didn’t mean to offend you so, Dane. Sire Cochrane, I mean. I... don’t often... don’t often meet men like you.”
“Nor I women like you!” he snapped back at her as he wiped the warmth of her kiss from his lips.
Her tone remained apologetic, trying to calm him. “I’m truly sorry, I didn’t mean to pull you into an argument.”
Dane shook his head at her. “Indeed you did, Lady. You insulted my entire family in front of a table full of people who are beyond your station. People I might have called friends or business partners one day. You have stepped out of your place in line. And now you tread in waters whose depths are far above your head.”
She took another step back from him, this time speaking just above a whisper. “The things you say of me are true,” she said, a tear running down her cheek. The internal heat of his anger abated a bit at this.
“Please, Sire. I have been through – difficult personal times lately. I am not myself and my family would be ashamed of the way I’ve treated you. It was shameful of me to act so unfavorably. It’s just...” Her voice trailed off as the tears came more fully. She turned her face away from him.
Dane took a calming breath, not ready to forgive her, but putting away his anger for the moment. She seemed genuinely hurt now, in emotional pain, but he wanted to know more.
“Go on, Lady.”
She struggled, wiping her own tears away with a gloved hand. “It’s just... I lost my sister recently. She was... very important to me. And now I’ve let my frustrations come out on you. For that I’m truly sorry.” At this she looked up at him again, her face covered in her tears and smeared makeup. “Do you think you could you find it in yourself to forgive me?”
Dane contemplated her again. The anger apparent in her only moments before was now gone, replaced by what seemed a sincere regret. Perhaps it’s just as she says, he thought. He chose to let his final anger at her wash away as he held out a kerchief to her, which she took. “If you were to apologize...”
“I apologize, fully and thoroughly,” she said, dabbing at her eye makeup.
“And make amends to the other dinner guests...”
“I will do so immediately.”
Dane nodded, thankful that they had reached a détente. He reminded himself that she was still very beautiful, and kindness to her was not out of the question. “Then I suppose I could see my way clear to forgive you.”
“Thank you, Sire,” she said. He extended his arm to her, and she reached out and accepted his peace offering. She wiped away the last of her tears and makeup with the kerchief, a noble pride returning to her features, then gave her own offering.
“I would be most honored if you would be so kind as to rejoin us for dinner. I am sure the meal will be well worth it.”
He smiled at her. “And the company?”
She smiled back as they began their return to the dinner table, arm-in-arm.
“That,” she said, “should be worth your time as well.”