Jessica had carved out the entire evening, and had Marcelle enforce it with the sort of ruthlessness that she and Willow would bring to protecting their boss from fools and last-minute interruptions. It wasn’t the Marquette Room, as much as she would have preferred it, mostly because of the hassle of getting a civilian in and through all the necessary security rigmarole.
No, it would be a quiet evening down on the planet, having steaks and wine at a tiny, family-owned restaurant, clear out on the edge of town. A place that had been there Jessica’s whole life. Her parents had come here on occasion, celebrating life events or just having a fantastic meal.
Jessica grinned as the waitress took their orders and departed. The young woman, not much older than Casey, was the granddaughter of the current owners. Jessica had watched her grow up in this restaurant: from a rambunctious toddler, to a teenager doing homework in a back booth, to a young woman learning how to own and run a restaurant.
Her departure left them alone in a cozy, back corner, as far away from everybody else as the proprietor could seat the famous local girl he had known since she was also a youngster. Exotic plants in pots filled almost every available space: on shelves, in corners, even bolted down to the flat board behind Casey’s head that separated this booth from the other one.
As befit the evening, both women were dressed in sedate, civilian attire. Blue in Jessica’s case, maroon in Casey’s. Marcelle had eaten earlier, so she could sit at the table closest to the door into this room while sipping tea, watching for trouble, just as Willow was doing out in the skimmer.
This was as private as Jessica was ever allowed to get, these days. Unless she hid herself in her cabin or the head with a book, just to have nobody around. Which she did occasionally.
Jessica studied her…charge was probably as good a word as any. Casey was an adult now, by both Imperial and Republic standards. Capable of making binding decisions for herself, whatever those might be.
At the same time, both Emmerich and Karl VII had impressed upon Jessica that she might be the only person in the galaxy from whom Casey would accept a No. Frightening, but after so many months with the woman, Jessica had to agree. Casey was smart, capable, and driven. Nils could probably convince the young woman to do something, eventually, but it would take him time. Jessica could stop her.
Casey practically fidgeted as she sat. The sudden hand out to grab a glass of red wine and take a sip. The head cranking around to watch the room before returning to watch Jessica.
Fidgets.
Jessica smiled. It was obvious that Casey had been working herself up to something, but still hadn’t gotten there in her head.
Another sip from the glass. Fortification, Jessica supposed.
“I have a plan,” Casey began suddenly, perhaps in the middle of a conversation in her own head that was spilling out to engulf them both. “Understand that much.”
Jessica cocked her head slightly to the side and grinned at Casey.
“What am I talking about?” Jessica asked, throwing the woman sideways with the awkward phrase.
Most women were afraid they were going to grow up and be their mother. Jessica had apparently turned into Nils Kasum. How many times had he asked her that question, early on, to for her to ground herself back at the beginning, from the middle of a paragraph, in exactly these same sorts of conversations?
Casey blinked. Blinked again. Blushed like a teenager again, suddenly. Composed herself.
Deep breath. Pause.
“I need your help with something, Jessica,” Casey said in a nearly-formal tone. “And your advice, although I might not follow it.”
“Fair enough,” Jessica replied evenly.
It was like watching tapes of herself at that same age. How had Nils survived?
“I had a long conversation on the topic with Yan,” Casey continued. “Both before we got here, and since everything else has happened.”
Jessica nodded. Let the woman build up a head of steam. The sooner she got to her point, the sooner Jessica could maneuver.
“He went through a Reserve Commission program,” Casey stated flatly. “One designed for foreign officers who will serve with Republic forces.”
“He did,” Jessica agreed. “I needed him to understand us when I had him supervise building Kali-ma for me in an Aquitaine yard. And then to take that training home, and infect Corynthe with it.”
And he had. Kali-ma under Wiley and Yan had approached Republic of Aquitaine standards in almost all things, even before the flight to St. Legier. Afterwards, on the long journey home, they had arrived fully. Lincolnshire probably wouldn’t appreciate the changes to Jessica’s fleet over the next decade, staring across that long, porous border.
Jessica really didn’t give a shit.
“I would like to do the same,” Casey said simply.
Fortunately, Jessica wasn’t holding her wine glass at the moment of that pronouncement, else she might have dropped it. Or choked on a mouthful of wine, possibly spraying Casey with it.
“Why?” Jessica finally settled for, having discarded a dozen other responses along the way.
Casey’s grin broke through her fierce, formal mien.
“Every Emperor of Fribourg has been a fleet officer first, up until now,” she replied. “This one should be as well.”
Jessica opened her mouth, and closed it again. Casey had a point. For several hours, this stubborn woman had been Emperor Karl VIII in name and in fact. Had seen off her cousin and his treasonous comrades. Had even rallied the fleet to her cause as a seventeen-year-old girl.
Jessica could only imagine what a thirty-year-old version of Casey would be like.
“But there are two other reasons,” Casey continued, once she was sure Jessica wasn’t immediately arguing with her.
“And they are?” Jessica replied forcefully.
Truly, Nils Kasum brought down from the heavens above and speaking into her ear and out her mouth. Spooky.
“One, you yourself said that the war with Buran will take a decade or two. Perhaps forever,” Casey said. “With you expecting to serve on that frontier for as long as you wish or can, the House of Wiegand needs to be present also. Just as Uncle Em has to stay home and keep things going, my brother will not be able to serve in a combat setting. There are far fewer Princes of the Blood, today, who can serve. Em’s son, my cousin Tiede, is one of the few of this generation. His brothers-in-law, Carson and Bernard, are both exceptional, but they are not family. Steffi’s husband, when her turn came, would have been the same.”
Casey paused, and gulped.
“My husband, when it comes time, will have impossible standards to meet,” she said in a quieter tone.
Of that, Jessica had no doubts whatsoever. It was one of the reasons Jessica had been single most of her life, opening herself up only for Warlock. And possibly considering an Imperial economist.
Impossible standards.
“That’s one,” Jessica said carefully.
Casey’s grin was back.
“If I can do it, so too can every other girl out there aspire,” Casey said. “Wiley’s not the only one.”
Jessica let a shark-like grin appear, just for a second. This was the outcome of Thuringwell. Right here. Daughters asking their fathers “Why not?” when the men had no better answer than “tradition.” That wasn’t going to work much longer.
I swore to see the Empire overthrown. Sitting across from me is the proof.
Jessica got serious.
“Do you think your uncle and your father will allow it?” she asked.
“Do you think I’m going to give them the option?” Casey fired back. “The alternative is I have to sit around the palace all day, making noises about the Charter of Man to news outlets. I think they would much rather I be far away from the centers of power, if I’m going to be a radical.”
Jessica became even more serious. There was no arguing with Casey on this path. Or even the politics. The woman had been born and raised to it.
“Will they, in retaliation, try to find you a husband early?” Jessica asked. “Find a man to control you?”
“I would make his life a living hell,” Casey swore, eyes flashing angrily. “Plus, the more I’m on the frontier with you, the less chance there’ll be that any traditionalist will want me.”
Those blue eyes turned silly for a second.
“No chance of a political marriage to one of the great families after I’ve been off to war, Jessica,” Casey grinned. “Soiled. Fallen. Lost. Father might have to marry me off to a barbarian warlord or something.”
Jessica grinned back.
“I know a few I could introduce you to,” she said slyly. “Just be happy that David Rodriguez, my Regent back home, is happily married. And to the quietest woman you’ve ever met. Else you might get your wish.”
“Ha,” Casey said. “What about you? The great Jessica Keller? I’ve heard rumors that you might be seeing someone.”
Jessica shrugged. Felt herself close down emotionally.
“Nothing so serious as even that,” she said. “We have talked. Considered the options. Nothing more.”
“Still, an economist?” Casey grinned ear to ear. “You?”
Again, the shrug.
Words had been enough, especially with the implications.
Jessica waved a hand to metaphorically shove everything to one side. None of that mattered. Not tonight. Had nothing to do with what Casey wanted.
“You truly wish to become a Centurion, Casey zu Wiegand?” she asked, letting Nils Kasum place the words in her mouth.
Perhaps it would only be a footnote, but Jessica knew that they had reached another one of those points that the history books would take note of.
“More than anything in the galaxy, Jessica.”