Reparations
I SPENT HOURS fixing Tilly’s aerovane. Astrid had done some serious damage, severing control linkages and power lines throughout the wing, as well as cracking her ventral repulsor plate, but with some disassembly and a few hours of careful work with an atomizing sprayer, I managed to reconstruct all the damaged parts and reassemble them correctly.
The sun was rising by the time Tilly flexed her vanes and drifted into her stable bay to rest and recharge her thrust plugs. I trudged upstairs to do the same.
“Captain Boylan, so glad you could join us,” Prince Aureli said from behind his datascroll when I slouched into the dining room. “Tell me, Captain, are we to expect you to have a midnight excursion every evening of this summit?”
My upper lip twitched. “I thought I was supposed to be sleeping around for Queen and country. Isn’t that the point of the diplomatic corps?” I gestured wearily to the assembled officers and diplomats. “Are they not carrying out your orders?”
“They are trained in diplomacy and spycraft. When they perform diplomatic reconnaissance, I can be confident they are not giving away state secrets in turn. You, on the other hand, are a soldier, a supply corps subaltern brought along to advise me on how to best seduce a female demon due to your prior experience. You are not expected to do so yourself, lest you ruin all chance the Royal Commonwealth has of negotiating a diplomatic peace with your impolitic blundering and clumsy flirting.”
“Is that so?” I asked, remembering Prince Aureli’s earlier words of desire, but too tired to remember to hold my tongue. “Or are you merely vexed that you’ve thus far failed to screw my ex-girlfriend?”
Prince Aureli opened his mouth to issue a no-doubt cutting retort, but Boleslaw forestalled him.
“Good gracious, what happened to you? What happened to your coat?”
I shrugged, too tired to think of something interesting. “I went for a midnight ride. I crashed.”
“A ride? With whom?” Boleslaw asked.
“With nobody,” I lied.
“Truly? Not with some female companion? Maybe that League princess you’ve been hanging out with?” Boleslaw asked.
“I said I was alone,” I said, frustration and bitterness creeping into my voice.
“That was incredibly rash. You could have been killed, or worse, caused a diplomatic incident. Honestly, considering the fatality rate amongst jubilee attendees already, your sneaking about alone after dark like an errant schoolboy shows a level of idiocy which borders on the imbecilic,” Prince Aureli said.
“I won’t do it again,” I said, too tired to care.
The prince sounded like a general who demanded supplies I didn’t have, then got angry with me when another staff officer had previously procured the desired materiel.
I never had time for those nitwits, and I didn’t have time for a lecture this morning.
Especially because he was right.
I turned towards my private chamber. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get some sleep.”
“Did you at least learn anything interesting on your midnight ride?” Boleslaw asked.
I grunted. “Yeah. Imps hate SI. Really hate them. Think they should all be exterminated. So don’t bring it up.”
Boleslaw must have caught on to the bitterness in my voice because she came after me. Outside the dining room, she asked in a low voice, “Did you crash, or did somebody make you crash?”
I gave her a level stare. “For the sake of not causing a diplomatic incident, let’s all agree I crashed without assistance.”
Boleslaw’s amber eyes were hard, but she nodded.
When I entered my room, Wiktor was waiting for me. He gave me a quick once-over. “I suppose it could be worse.” He helped me out of the grease-stained and ground-shredded mess jacket. “You managed to avoid setting it on fire.”
“So fix it,” I said. “Isn’t that your damned job?”
“Most people don’t make it quite so hard,” Wiktor admonished.
“If you found everything easy, then you’d never improve,” I shot back, struggling futilely with my boots.
They fit so well that my feet, swollen from a long night of walking and working, refused to release them.
Giving up, I collapsed back onto my bed, throwing one arm over my eyes to block out the sun.
Something tugged gently at my boots. I looked out from under my arm to see Wiktor, squeezing the heel of my boot with one hand and pulling the arch with the other. Gingerly, but surely, my boot came free. Wiktor set my foot down, then took up the other boot.
“Thank you,” I said, undoing my shirt buttons. When I stood to take off my dress trousers, Wiktor turned down the sheets, and when I gratefully crawled in, he dimmed the window.
“Sleep well, Captain,” he said as he closed the door.
“You, too,” I replied, forgetting it was morning and he would be awake for eighteen hours yet.
A moment later, Wiktor’s gentle touch on my shoulder woke me. “Captain, it’s time you were awake. You’ll miss dinner if you stay in bed any longer.”
“Dinner?” I scrabbled for my chronometer. “It’s morning.”
Wiktor kept his voice low and professional. “You’ve been asleep for ten hours, Captain. It’s quarter past sixteen.”
I stared at the digital readout. He was right. Four hours past midday, and dammit, it felt like I hadn’t slept more than ten minutes.
Grumpily, I levered myself into a sitting position. I felt grimy. “Suppose I’d better shower.” Standing, I asked, “What did I miss?”
“Count Gerasimov won the melee, although it came down to him and Archduke Darius in the end.”
“What about the politics?” I asked as hot water battered my aching muscles into compliance.
“Prince Aureli has been trying to reassemble a working diplomatic coalition all day,” Wiktor replied. “The lords commander demand reparations for Von Potiorek’s death, and the Emperor threatened to evict the entire Despotate delegation from the palace if they continue pestering her.”
“What about our other allies?” I asked. “The League? The Federation?”
“The League is divided, as always. Stelsylvania supports the Commonwealth position, but most governments in exile have sided with the Urgan Despotate. They want revenge. As for the Federation, they’ve been remarkably coy about their objectives this entire event.
I can’t prove anything, but I heard from a servant in the Federation’s employ that they don’t care about the fate of their allies so long as they get a sweet deal for themselves. ”
I grunted. “I can’t imagine a better deal than peace. They’ve been the bankers of the Alliance and the ‘arsenal of freedom’ for ten years now. End the war here, and they walk away with all those profits and unspoiled star systems for minimal casualties.”
Wiktor pursed his lips. “There are rumors the Federation will ask for territorial concessions from their allies, rewards for good service.”
“Where?” I asked, shocked by this news.
“The Urgan Despotate. Portions of the League. Places where Federation soldiers actually fought the Empire.”
“That’s tasteless of them,” I said, considering a star map in my mind.
The Federation had launched a counteroffensive after the Empire invaded their space, not to push back the Imperial incursion, but to occupy lightly defended former Urgan worlds and ‘liberate’ some of the richest star systems in the League.
Only once they’d dug in on those profitable planets had they devoted their energy towards throwing back the invader and called their allies to help.
“The clever bastards,” I said. “Well, it all may be for naught. You never know what the Imps will do.”
“Right you are, sir. Better take these.” He handed me a belt with my two blades. I accepted them with a nod and buckled them on.
When I emerged in the Great Hall, I found things much as Wiktor described.
There was a tension in the air not present in previous evenings.
The Despotate officers looked ready to riot, and several League princes and princesses were with them.
The Federation magnates stood aloof, and Commonwealth diplomats scurried between them, trying to create a compromise.
Meanwhile, the Imperial nobles were delighted by the poorly concealed spectacle.
And seated above it all was Astrid, the Emperor, holding court over the chaos.
I needed a drink.
Archduke Darius intercepted me before I could reach the bar. “Levar. I’m so glad I found you. Not showing up at the tournament, you gave us all a fright.”
“I’m surprised anybody noticed,” I said, gesturing the bartender over. “Two whiskeys, neat. Three fingers.”
“Thank you, Levar, but I’m not much of a whiskey man,” Darius replied.
“Who said I got one for you?” The whiskeys came, and I took the first one down in a single gulp. The second followed quickly after, and I ordered two more.
“Steady on, there,” Darius said, concern knitting his brow. “You’ll get yourself tight.”
“I want to get tight,” I replied. “It’s the only release a soldier like me knows.” I picked up the new pair of drinks, then hesitated for a moment. “I’m afraid I’m going to be rather poor company tonight. You might want to find somebody else to talk with.”
The archduke considered me gravely, then slowly said, “Yes. You may be right.” He drifted away, giving me a concerned glance over his shoulder.
I brushed off the brief moment of regret at driving away one of the few friendly faces I knew here and drowned the emotion with my next drink.
Then I had a new problem to solve – my glass was empty.
Princess Marie-Christina found me as I was finishing off my third gin and champagne cocktail.
“I’m so glad you’re here. Things have been so chaotic; when you didn’t show up today, I worried something happened to you.
Everyone’s gone mad. The Alliance is ready to tear itself apart over that dashed Von Potiorek, but nobody will say anything. Do you know what’s going on?”
“Why are you asking me?” I asked.