Cardenas (Findlay IV), Findlay System, Eriuman Republic.
Wait did not interrupt dinner this time, yet it was highly agitated, more than Reynard ever remembered from the past. He murmured apologies to Gaubert and Iulia, who were playing off against each other, climbed down from the observation deck over the tallball court and followed Wait back to the library, his heart squeezing.
A screen had been resolved and hung at the back of the room. Bellona was on the screen, watching him enter.
Reynard’s steps slowed. “A screen,” he said. “How…Karassian of you, daughter.”
“I am not your daughter. Not anymore.”
She looked different. Living in the desert had changed her. Reynard realized he was ridiculously pleased to see her. “You look well,” he said carefully.
“The screen is so I can see your face,” Bellona said, as if he had not spoken at all.
“And I can see yours. Perhaps they have their uses, after all.”
“Did you do it?” she demanded. “Are you the one who gave the order for the destruction of Shavistran?”
Shock slithered through him. “Me? You really think I would do such a thing?”
“You have the Navy in the palm of your hand. The Cardenas fleet would jump to do anything you ordered and you met with the Karassians on Antini.”
The shock this time spread coldness through him. “How did you find out about Antini?” His lips felt thick and uncooperative.
Bellona nodded. She suddenly looked almost regal. “A whole planet of families, for Max? You make me sick.”
“I didn’t…” he began weakly. She really thought him capable of such an act? “I refused! I told them I didn’t want Arany’s location!”
“I don’t believe you,” Bellona said carefully, annunciating each word. “I would have, when I was a child. I might have, even a year ago, when I first came back to Cardenas. Now, I do not. I know you now, Reynard Cardenas and I am ashamed that you are my father.”
“He didn’t do it, Bella,” said a voice from behind Reynard.
Reynard whirled.
Gaubert stood there, sweaty from the court and red of face. He was looking at Bellona. “Your father wanted vengeance, just not that way. He left. I negotiated with the Karassians, instead.”
“You?” Reynard breathed. “You did this? It really was Erium who killed Arany’s people?”
Gaubert nodded. “No one must think they can get away with harming even a single Eriuman. There had to be retribution. I did it for Erium.”
Sharp pain bit into Reynard’s chest. It ran down his arm, making his fingers curl. “Do you have any idea what you have done?” he whispered.
“I have preserved the status quo,” Gaubert said righteously.
“You…fool!” Reynard gasped. It was the last full breath he took.
* * * * *
Bellona dissolved the screen and swiveled in the chair. Her face was as still as stone. Khalil, sitting in the corner as always, looked just as stunned.
“Sang, destroy that footage,” Bellona said. “Now.”
Sang reached out to the ship’s AI and Connie.
Connie was puzzled. “You can destroy things?” she asked.
The Karassian AI was even more obtuse. Dissemination was calcified into the Karassian culture. It couldn’t even grasp the idea of not sharing it as widely as possible.
Sang sighed. “Too late,” he breathed.
Khalil scrubbed at his face. “Counter it,” he said swiftly. “Make the Karassians look just as bad.”
“How?” Bellona demanded.
“You have seventeen victims of the worst Karassian conspiracy ever, right here on the ship, not including yourself and me,” Khalil said. “Tell everyone what they did. Hold them accountable and hold Erium accountable for Shavistran.”
“Tell the truth?” Bellona said. She smiled. “That is something I can do.”
* * * * *
Site of the former free city Shavistran, Shavistran III. Free space.
Even the surfaces of the fused earth streets had been turned into charcoal, which shattered with each step they took and sent up a fine black powder that trailed away in the small breeze whistling through the ruins of Shavistran.
Sang wasn’t sure what hatred was, for he had never felt it, although he did wonder if the sensation he was feeling as he followed Khalil and Bellona along what was left of the Shavistran streets was hatred. It roiled in his guts. The pressure across his chest made it hard to breathe.
Pathetic signs of human occupation were everywhere. The buildings had melted, just as human remains had been incinerated. In odd pockets, though, evidence had been preserved. The base of a drinking glass that had run like candle wax. A spoon. The shining, smooth surface of what had once been a flowerbed, with the flowers encased eternally inside the black glass. The shells of ground vehicles, still in their orderly traffic lanes.
Even the pattern of the streets, laid out in familiar grids like every human city in the known worlds, was enough to make Sang’s throat close down tight.
Bellona stopped in the middle of the street and looked up at the sun, letting the light bathe her face. Then she turned on her heels, taking in the city. “Everyone should see this.”
“They did. They are,” Khalil amended, pointing at the lens floating over her shoulder.
“I mean, they should come here and feel it for themselves. It won’t make sense until they do.”
“It still doesn’t make sense,” Sang said, his voice hoarse. “Not to me.”
“I mean, what we have to do next won’t make sense,” Bellona corrected.
“What comes next?” Khalil asked.
Bellona dragged her heel through the charcoal. It made a furrow in the black surface. She looked up at the lens and spoke firmly. “Here, but no farther.” She shook her head. “We will not permit it.”