Queen of the Pirates (33 page)

As Senator Horvat had said, politics was the art of the perception, as well as the reality. If you looked like a king, acted like a king, people were more likely to accept you as a king. Here, she
was
Aquitaine
, it was incumbent upon her to represent the Republic in its best light. To impress these people, barbarian pirates that they might be.

Especially if she was about to start a war with them.

Ξ

It still felt like coming home. And it didn’t.

Daneel breathed in the air. It had that sharp tang of ozone from an overworked air filtration system. Sharper and more noticeable than usual because he had just spent so long on a well–founded ship where the air was pure and smelled nice.

It reminded him of how much had changed since he had left
Petron
eighteen months ago for his ill–fated mission to
Sarmarsh IV
.

Perhaps not entirely ill–fated. He watched Jessica walk and appreciated the play of muscles in her back and bottom. The women of
Corynthe
went for long and slender when they could, like Desianna, or lush and overripe, like Teri. Very few did athletic. None of them as well as this marvel of a woman in front of him.

He smiled. Perhaps this wasn’t home anymore. Perhaps there was more to the galaxy. Certainly, his brother didn’t need him coming back and wanting to take command of
Sunset
again.

Did he even want a ship? Perhaps, but a sailing yacht, long–running and lean, so he could see the beauties of space, rather than looking down a barrel at victims about to lose everything to him and his boys. Maybe even a few museums and arboretums.

After all, what did a reformed pirate do with his life?

Ξ

The reception hall was large, as befit the sort of space you needed to use to impress barbarians from the edges of civilization. Daneel looked him around with a grin.
Worse
barbarians from the
further
edges of civilization.

Ian Zhao was already there, with a small group of retainers and associates. David Rodriguez would remain aboard
Sky Dancer
as an insurance policy. Several other captains had arrived already as well. Some of them were friendly. Some of them were friendly with Ian Zhao or Jing Du. Things could be a rat’s nest on
Petron
.

The chancellor was in his accustomed spot atop the platform, four steps above the crowd, where he could serve as a master of ceremonies. High enough to be able to see over the true giants in the group, like himself, or Arnulf.

Jing Du smiled warmly out over the crowd. At least that was how a complete stranger would have taken it.

Anyone who knew the man would be checking that his wallet was still intact.

For Daneel, it just confirmed that things were about to go heavily wrong.

He knew some of what had been planned, at least from Arnulf and Desianna. Jessica had been more tight–lipped. Not because she didn’t trust him. Or perhaps not just. Reticence was in her blood.

Learning to be quiet enough for her had been his biggest challenge.

Arnulf would be last in, as befit the King of the Pirates. Mei Fan, Wife Number Three, mother of Sebastian and Karel, awaited him on the stage, not far from Jing Du. She hadn’t gone on the Promenade with everyone else.

Daneel knew that Arnulf hoped to make it up to her now, letting her shine by hosting the welcome home party. She looked absolutely stunning up there, in a traditional gown that emphasized all the right parts about her, almost as long and slinky as Desianna, but with an air of fragile porcelain about her rather than the fire in Arnulf’s First Wife.

Desianna, dressed absolutely to the nines, waited down in the crowd with the folks from
Aquitaine
. Daneel took a step forward, to stand next to her, and offered an elbow, which she took with a smile and quiet surprised laugh.

That earned him a sly, sideways glance and grin from the woman on his other side. Not that Jessica could say or do anything. They had decided to keep everything completely under wraps in public. Again, the
Aquitaine
way. Daneel wondered if he would be expected to travel to
Ladaux
and ask her father for her hand.

And they thought we were primitive?

He was distracted by one of Jessica’s people, her male aide, suddenly stepping up on her other side and handing her a piece of paper. Apparently, a written message.

Written
?

Ξ

She wondered if Daneel was just being charming, or being a goof. Certainly, he was frequently both. And she knew she didn’t have to worry about him and Desianna. Not after all this.

It felt strange to have friends. Real friends. Not just fellow command centurions and people you knew in school, once upon a time.

People you liked. People you trusted.

She sensed her flag centurion approach. He just had a sound to the way he walked, even when he was trying to be silent.

Enej handed her a small piece of paper, folded over. His grin could have lit the room, had anyone but her been paying any attention to this corner.

She felt an eyebrow go up, almost an automatic response to that level of wickedness from him. She read the note.

RSVP: Tomas Kigali + 3.

He had done it. Three? What the hell had he done to get that much help? For once, half a dozen enemy motherships didn’t seem as tall of a challenge. Certainly, whoever Kigali brought to the ball wouldn’t be up to his high standards, but she suddenly had a really nasty ace in the hole.

“How did this arrive?” she whispered to Enej.

The man leaned down to whisper into her ear. “Somehow,” Enej said, “he dropped a probe on the edge of the gravity well without being noticed. It sat there waiting until we tripped it when we dropped out of Jumpspace. Narrow–beam laser. Burst comm pulse. Science Officer Giroux confirms the message and the authenticity.”

“How did you get the message here?” Jessica asked.

He leaned back and turned to point at one of the
Auberon
’s smallest marines, a dark–skinned woman wearing a large metal backpack instead of her normal field gear. Enej made a gesture and the woman turned slowly in place so Jessica could see the entire device.

“Portable flag bridge,” he said proudly. “Secured, encrypted comm capable of seventeen light–seconds range from the surface of
Petron
. Deploys to stabilize a projector identical to the one you normally have.”

“Where did this come from?” Jessica was stunned. She had expected to have to rely on David Rodriguez, an unknown, and Denis Jež, a warrior, if things went wrong.

“I had engineering build it for me,” he said with a smile, “based on gaming out all the various political scenarios. Someone has taught me the importance of flexible planning.”

“Moirrey?” Jessica asked. Her crew just kept surprising her in better and better ways.

“She was too busy with
Project Mischief
, Commander, so no rainbows or kittens. However, that is planned for version two.”

It was all Jessica could do not to laugh out loud. The room was generally quiet, filled with only low conversations, but to laugh right now would draw unwanted attention to her group. Someone might notice that she had twice as many marines as normal with her, today. Heavily–armed ones.

Navin the Black
was not fooling around.

Neither was she.

Ξ

Daneel wondered if it would seem more barbaric or less to replace the three trumpeters by the door with recorded music. Certainly, the audio would probably improve, but you would absolutely lose something when they tilted their heads back and blasted their notes off the ceiling to announce that the King of the Pirates, with his own theme music, had returned to his home.

The crowd grew silent in anticipation.

Every time he did this, Daneel was reminded how powerfully charismatic the man was. He entered with a retinue today, mostly bodyguards, plus a couple of pilots off of
Supernova
. None of them came up to his eyes, although two were about as broad as he. It looked more like a rugby team getting ready to take the pitch than anything else.

The crowd cheered, as was expected. It was a raw, throaty sound, the kind made by a mass of aggressive men, or a pack of wild predators sighting prey.

Arnulf raised his hands as a lane parted through the mob. The noise continued as he ascended the platform, kissed Mei Fan, and turned to smile out over the group. He basked in it for a few moments before waving them to quiet things down. Mei Fan leaned close to say something into his ear.

“My friends,” he bellowed as the sound finally ebbed, “my warriors, my comrades, it is good to be home. I am informed by my lovely wife, Mei Fan, that she has something special planned. First off, we will have a toast.”

Daneel noticed palace staff circulating from several nearby hatches. Each carried a tray filled with mugs that appeared to have been made from metal, rather than glass. Daneel nodded to himself. That was far more practical. A group like this would probably end up destroying more than half, regardless of their intentions.

He started to reach for a mug as a waiter came close, only to have Jessica step between him and the tray.

She fixed him with a hard stare that would have melted steel. “No,” was all she said, but it conveyed an amazing amount of determination. Even for her.

Daneel subsided. He wasn’t sure what she was up to, but she was in charge, and he was willing to follow her lead.

He was? Huh. So be it.

Up on the platform, Mei Fan retrieved a small bottle that looked like champagne, and a delicately fluted glass, from a waiter that stood on the floor below. Not for anyone else to be seen in the Triumph today. Only Arnulf, Mei Fan, and Jing Du.

She carefully opened the bottle and expertly poured the honey–colored liquid into the glass, taking a small sip before handing it to Arnulf with a coy smile.

The King of the pirates leaned his great height down to delicately kiss her on the forehead and whisper something with a smile.

Arnulf turned to the room and raised his glass to the room proudly. “I give you the strength of the nation: the warriors of
Corynthe
.”

The crowd cheered and then turned silent as everyone drank.

Daneel felt a cold spot appear in the pit of his stomach.

“And now,” Arnulf continued, handing his empty glass back to Mei Fan. “I have returned from the Promenade to remind the many worlds that they are part of
Corynthe
, and therefore part of something greater. What say you?”

Before the crowd could roar their approval, a single voice called out.

“And I have come, Arnulf, King of the Pirates, to challenge you for your crown,” Ian Zhao yelled, using the formal phrasing.

Only because he was watching her face did Daneel see the flash of glee on Mei Fan’s face, before it flashed to anger, and then a simple, beatific smile.

Shit
.

Daneel was torn. He could say something right now, and be branded a coward. No, he couldn’t. Only captains could speak now. This was Challenge.

Shit
.

It had been so long since he hadn’t been one of them, that he sometimes forgot the rules of engagement.

Jessica seemed to sense something. She pulled his arm to drag an ear down to her level.

“What is it?” she demanded in a fierce whisper.

“It’s a trap,” he whispered back. “Mei Fan’s in on it.”

“What can we do?”

He felt the grip in her hand harden.

“Nothing,” he said quietly. “This is
Challenge
. No one may interfere at this point. If we tried to, Arnulf would forfeit his throne, and probably his life.”

“How did we miss her?”

“She’s had lots of opportunity to kill him,” Daneel breathed into her ear, “I’m guessing they promised to protect her when it was done.”

Jessica paused for a moment. “Mei Fan has two sons,” she said in a leap of logic. “Ian Zhao has daughters, doesn’t he?”

Daneel felt all the pieces suddenly rotate ninety degrees and lock into place. “Dynastic marriage. Wrong dynasty. Sebastian instead of David.”

“A story as old as monarchy,” Jessica said. “What to do about second sons?”

Ξ

A space had been cleared down in front of the platform, lined by a wall of expectant observers. It had been twenty–some years since Arnulf came to power. After a few early attempts, no one had challenged him like this in a long time.

Daneel felt ashes in his mouth. They were very likely to crown a new king today.

Jing Du acted as referee, standing over the pseudo–arena from the front of the platform. Mei Fan had retired to her chambers, claiming to be overcome by the emotions of the day.

Everything was formal now. One of those rituals that could be claimed as Founding Legends.

The fight between he and
Hellhound
had been much less prescribed. Duels like that were serious between the parties, but rarely had any long–term implications. It had allowed
Hellhound
to hide his armored girdle and the poison ring.

Things like that were not allowed here.

This was for a crown.

Arnulf and Ian Zhao had both stripped to the waist, showing off two lifetimes worth of scars and old wounds.

Daneel was happy to admit that Arnulf, in his thirties, in his prime, had been bigger and stronger than Daneel had been. Nobody else had come close, but Arnulf had a few fingers of height, and width, and had outweighed him by nearly five kilos. Now a man of fifty, he was still amazingly impressive. If the stomach had gone a little slack, he was still stronger that at least half the men present.

Ian Zhao was all wires and whipcord. Arnulf was taller and broader across the shoulders, but it was like comparing a bear to a panther. Both amazingly–dangerous creatures, but in entirely different ways. Where Arnulf had a body covered with curly, dark hair, Ian Zhao had little, but his freckles ran halfway down his torso.