Stars of Blood and Glory (6 page)

He palmed open the door to the cabin and led
Abaqa inside. Wide windows covered the far wall from floor to
ceiling, offering a magnificent view of the rapidly waning crescent
of Gaia Nova. Except for a few minor settlements around the poles,
the night side of the planet was almost pitch black—a far cry from
the thriving dome cities his mother had told him about from the
days before the Pax Hameji. The soft yellow glowlamps provided more
than enough illumination to the room, however, and almost a dozen
couches and reclining chairs offered them plenty of places to sit.
An arabesque mosaic table from Auriga Nova graced the center of the
room, sitting on an intricately patterned rug, probably from the
Tajjur system. Above the door, a pair of crossed swords in golden
scabbards hung over a chunk of unrefined diamond from Tenguri, the
holiest star in all of Hameji space. Abaqa’s eyes widened in
surprise at all the furnishings—even the Generals didn’t decorate
their shuttles so elaborately.

“
You’ve outdone yourself,” said
Abaqa, turning around slowly as he admired the cabin. “If you
decorate your shuttles this well, I can’t imagine what your
flagship must be like.”

Jahan threw back his head and laughed. “The
spoils of war, my brother. Everything you see here I either won
myself or traded for with goods I’d won in battle. Once Tagatai’s
new campaign gets under way, it won’t be long before the last
remnants of the planetborn have been subdued. I don’t know how
we’ll win honor and glory after that, but until then, a young
warrior can get very rich, indeed.”

Abaqa nodded and shifted nervously from foot
to foot. “I hope we don’t subdue them too quickly,” he muttered.
“Not before I’ve had a chance to make a name for myself.”

Jahan chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry, Brother.
There’s still plenty of time before that cycle comes. Here, let me
show you something.”

He tapped a key on his wrist console and a
door opened on the far side of the cabin. Abaqa turned and froze
where he stood. A gorgeous obsidian-haired slave girl stood in the
doorway, dressed in a transparent two-piece dress. Hot blood surged
between his legs—the girl was like something out of a wet dream.
Her breasts were round and full, her shapely hips accentuated by a
girdle that seemed almost ready to fall off. She wore a
jewel-studded titanium collar with thin golden chains that ran down
to the shackles on her wrists.

“
Well,” said Jahan, taking the
slave girl by her chains and bringing her over to his couch. “What
do you think?”

“
Sh-she’s beautiful. Where did
you get her?”

“
From the last campaign in the
Oriana Cluster,” said Jahan. He pulled back on her arms, making her
arch her back and thrust out her chest. “Want some time alone with
her? Go ahead—I don’t mind.”

Abaqa hesitated, his cheeks
turning red.
My mother used to be a slave girl like this,
he thought to
himself. The realization was like a splash of cold water to his
face.

“
I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe
later.”

Jahan shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He released
the girl, and she nearly fell forward. Only then did Abaqa notice
that her ribs were starting to show through her stomach, and her
chest and shoulders were severely bruised. From the dull look in
her eyes, this treatment must have been going on for some time. He
wondered if it was Jahan who treated her this way, or his eunuchs.
He didn’t bother to ask, though—she was only planetborn.

“
When you’ve got a starship of
your own,” said Jahan, “you’ll be able to keep as many slaves like
this as you want.” He motioned to the floor by his feet, and she
laid down on her side without so much as a word.

“
Does she speak?”

“
Don’t know—I’ve never tried
talking with her.”

Abaqa nodded and thought of his mother again.
As a slave, she had learned her father’s language and convinced him
that she would make a worthy wife. Her remarkable rise from
concubine to queen was famous throughout the fleets. But this slave
girl was so dull and unresponsive, it was clear that she wouldn’t
go nearly as far.

That’s because she’s
planetborn,
he told himself.
Not like my mother.

“
Our father is leaving for Tajjur
to take care of some business there,” said Jahan as he reached into
a wall compartment and pulled out a hookah. “He’s left Gazan in
charge of his fleet, and Gazan wants to move out as soon as
possible.”

“
Gazan,” Abaqa muttered, shaking
his head. Jahan set the hookah on the table and lit the coals at
the base with a utility device on his belt. He took a puff from the
end of one of the hoses, and thin wisps of sweet-smelling smoke
began to rise from the device.

“
That’s why I wanted to talk with
you before officially signing you on with my fleet,” Jahan
continued. “You’ll only answer to me, of course, but I must answer
to Gazan. If I don’t follow his orders directly, it could spark a
feud.”

Abaqa nodded, stealing another glance at the
beautiful slave girl. She stared demurely at the floor, as if
afraid to meet his gaze.

“
Well, what’s the worst that can
happen? I’m sure Gazan doesn’t see me as a rival.”

“
No,” said Jahan, “but there
aren’t any kind feelings between him and your mother, I can tell
you that. When he finds out that you’re under his command, he might
order me to send you on a solitary recon mission, deep into enemy
space. It could be dangerous.”

Abaqa scowled and unhooked the second hose
from the hookah. “Is that what you’re worried about? That I won’t
be able to take care of myself?”

“
Space battles aren’t as exciting
as you think,” said Jahan, frowning as he puffed the
strawberry-scented tobacco. “In fact, they can be downright
harrowing. You won’t win any glory by dying on your first
mission.”

“
I can take care of myself just
fine.”

“
I’m sure you can, but I’m not
going to let you join my fleet without doing my best to look out
for you. I owe your mother as much.”

“
Yeah, yeah,” said Abaqa, rolling
his eyes. “I’ve passed all the training missions on the sims, and
I’m more than old enough to see my first battle. Are you going to
let me fly with you or not?”

“
I never said anything about
turning you down. If you still want to be a part of my fleet, I’ll
be happy to have you fly under my command.”

“
Excellent! When do we
leave?”

Jahan took another puff of the hookah, as if
thoroughly detached from the outside universe. “Not long. If all
goes well, we’ll take the starlane to the front and report to Gazan
in less than five sleep cycles. I’m sure he’ll have an assignment
for us—Tagatai’s flagship is already on the move.”

“
Great,” said Abaqa. “I’ll go get
ready, then.”

“
So soon? Don’t you want to enjoy
some entertainment first?”

Jahan grinned meaningfully and began to
fondle the slave girl’s breasts. She gasped a little as he pulled
off the top half of her dress, but made no move to resist.

“
Thanks,” he said, “but not right
now.”

“
Suit yourself.”

As he walked out the door, the sound of the
girl’s moaning made his heart skip a beat. Part of him wanted to
turn around and go back, but he knew it would break his mother’s
heart.

* * * * *

“
I can’t let you go, Abie. This
is a very bad idea.”

Abaqa threw up his hands and clucked his
tongue in protest. “What do you mean, you can’t let me go? Jahan’s
leaving soon, and I told him I’d go with him! Do you want to make
me into a liar?”

His mother turned away from him and leaned
against the wall, burying her head in her hands. The ever-present
hum of the station’s ventilation system broke the heavy silence.
Abaqa stood with his hands placed defiantly on his hips, but
inwardly he wished he could give his mother a hug.

“
I’m of age now, you know,” he
heard himself say. “I don’t need your permission to go into battle.
It’s my right.”

“
Think very carefully about what
you’re doing, Abie,” said his mother, her voice low and hoarse. “If
you leave now, you’ll be at Gazan’s mercy. He may be your
half-brother, but he’s still a dangerous man and would rather see
you die in battle than raise a fleet of your own to rival
his.”

“
I know, Mother. Jahan said he’d
do his best to protect me.”

His mother turned to face him, her reddened
eyes now cold. “Jahan isn’t going to protect you, Abie—no one is.
He would just as well see you out of the picture as Gazan.”

“
That’s not true!” Abaqa
protested, clenching his fists. “Jahan is a friend, and always has
been. I can trust him!”

“
No you can’t,” said Sholpan. “If
you want to live long enough to make a name for yourself, that’s
the first thing you need to learn. Everyone in your father’s
fleet—and everyone in Tagatai’s fleet too, for that matter—is only
out for themselves. That’s the way it’s always been.”

Abaqa shifted nervously on his feet, not sure
what to say. He opened his mouth to protest, but the deadly
expression on his mother’s face silenced him.

“
These are dangerous times for
us,” she continued. “Tagatai may lead the Hameji for now, but he’s
got plenty of rivals who would love to see him fall. The only
reason he’s launched this campaign is to unite us while he
consolidates his gains. But in his arrogance, he doesn’t realize
how weak he’s become—how weak all of the Hameji have
become.”

“
Weak? What are you talking
about?”

His mother sighed. “Abie, you’re too young to
understand any of this. You’re just a boy. If you want to survive
in the world of men, stay low and don’t let yourself get
burned.”

“
I am not just a boy!” he said,
blood rising to his cheeks. “I’m old enough to pilot a gunboat,
aren’t I? Besides, if I don’t leave with Jahan now, I might never
get a chance to prove myself.”

“
Are you sure?” his mother asked,
narrowing her eyes. “What if Tagatai loses—what if the planetborn
win?”

The question was so ludicrous that Abaqa
couldn’t help but laugh. “What kind of idle woman-talk is that? The
planetborn are soft and weak—we’ve never lost a battle against
them, much less a campaign.”

“
That’s not true.”

Abaqa snorted and turned his back to her.
“Well, whether or not that’s true, I’m going and you can’t stop
me.”

He made as if to leave, but before he could
get to the door, his mother stopped him with a hand on his
shoulder. “Wait,” she said softly. “If you’re going to go, at least
give me a chance to say goodbye.”

She put her arms around him, shoulders
trembling a little from her quiet sobs. Abaqa’s pride and anger
melted almost instantly, and he returned her embrace.

“
Don’t worry about me,” he said.
“I’ll make you proud.”

“
Remember what I’ve taught you,”
she whispered. “Honor and glory are not the only virtues in this
universe.”

“
I will.”

“
And remember your language
lessons.”

He groaned, but in a good-natured way this
time. As he let go of her and stepped back, he couldn’t help but
suppress a smile.

“
Goodbye,” she said. “Take care
of yourself. You are my everything.”

“
I will, Mother. And when you see
me again, I’ll be a man.”

“
It takes more than a war to make
a man.”

“
Whatever.” Then, cheeks
blushing, “I love you, Mom.”

He turned and left quickly, afraid that tears
would soon fill his eyes. He couldn’t afford to show any sign of
weakness—not if he was going to make a name for himself.

Chapter 4

The heavy, wet wind blasted Rina Al-Najmi’s
face as she sped across the face of New Rigel V’s boiling
world-ocean. The skimmer hummed between her legs, its tiny engine
pushed to the limit. Overhead, massive thunderheads gathered toward
the dark storm nexus on the horizon, a hurricane the size of a
small continent. Still, she flew on, climbing the waves as if they
were rolling sand dunes and catching a great deal of air as she
crested each one.

Her mind pulsated with the desire to kill.
Like the storm on the horizon, it threatened to consume her. She’d
learned to hide it well enough in public, but alone, she could not
ignore it. How many lives had she taken already? Faces flashed
across her mind, indistinct memories that had long faded into
half-remembered images.

If she were anyone else, their deaths would
probably haunt her—and perhaps they did, in a mild sort of way. But
not enough to prevent her from killing again.

The waves were more than twenty meters tall
now, cresting with massive whitecaps that filled the air with
spray. Lightning struck in the distance as she struggled to climb
the next one, thunder mingling with the whine of the skimmer’s
engine as she cleared the top. For a thrilling moment, her stomach
fell out from under her, and the sheer drop down the other side
made her feel as if she were falling to her death. But then, the
skimmer’s aqua-repulsors caught, and the craft slammed down with a
great splash before lifting her again to a hover.

Most people would tell her it was suicide to
be out here in such conditions. Indeed, the one-person skimmer
wasn’t designed to fly more than kilometer or two from the large
cities. There was something about being alone, though, that she
wouldn’t have given up for anything. Even as the storm threatened
to destroy her little craft, the solitude calmed her, bringing her
back to a simpler time, and a better life.