The High Ground (19 page)

“
Our
rule. And yes, that’s correct.” He gave her hand a pat where it was clenched in her lap. “And, honey, you can wear a dress tonight.”

Tracy stood in the street at the front door of the shop. It was locked and a sign indicated it was closed for the day.
So he could come and watch the game. I wonder how much that cost him? At least he got to see me play and not just sit on the bench.

It was late afternoon. The setting sun threw toffee-colored light across the buildings and warmed Tracy’s shoulders. Donnel, standing three paces behind him and holding his carryall, cleared his throat.

“Have you a suggestion as to how to proceed?” the Cara’ot asked.

“Yeah, we try the back door.” Tracy headed down the narrow walkway between their building and the bodega next door. To his surprise the back door was locked as well. Maybe his dad had given Bajit the day off? Had the Hajin been in the alien section at the game? Tracy hadn’t even thought to look for him.

He raised his ScoopRing toward the lock. What if his dad had changed the code? Jesus, that would hurt. Then he remembered he’d deleted the code off his ring. Even if it hadn’t changed he couldn’t get in.

“Sir, time is fleeting. You need to shower and dress for the ball. A ball that will start in three hours.” The alien’s tone was pointed.

Tracy gulped and knocked. A few minutes later the door was flung open. His father stood in the door dressed in slacks and an undershirt with his old worn scuffs on his bare bony feet. The annoyed expression faded and the pale eyes filled with tears. Answering tears sprang into Tracy’s eyes. Alexander pulled him into a tight hug. His dad hesitantly pounded on his back with a fist then cleared his throat.

“Ow, you’re too hard to hit now. What are they feeding you up there?” Alexander asked as he stepped back from the door.

“It’s pretty good, but they work it off us just as fast,” Tracy said. He followed his father into the workroom. “May I stay?”

“Don’t be daft. Of course you can stay.” He looked at the Cara’ot still standing in the alley. “And who and what is this?”

“My batBEM, Donnel. He’s a Cara’ot.”

“Do you have to pay him?”

Tracy realized with some shock that he hadn’t actually thought about it. He’d just accepted the service as if it were his due. He’d never asked if the tripod alien needed money.

“I… I don’t know. I mean I haven’t…”

“Not to worry, sir. I assumed you knew The High Ground was covering my salary during your schooling.”

“What happens after I graduate?” Tracy asked.

“After that my pay becomes your responsibility if you wish me to join you on your first posting.”

“Guess that depends on how much a first lieutenant gets paid,” Tracy answered.

“And if I wish to accompany you,” Donnel said softly.

Had there been a very subtle rebuke in the alien’s words? Tracy wasn’t certain.

“Does it… he go with you everywhere?” Alexander asked.

Tracy glanced at the alien. “I guess so. This is the first time I’ve been anywhere.”

“To answer the question, sir. Yes, I’m here to handle mundane chores so he can concentrate on his studies and various other required activities.”

“We don’t really have a place for him to sleep,” Alexander said.

“Not a worry, sir. Perfectly capable of placing my billet on the floor or ceiling for that matter. I won’t be in the way.”

Tracy’s father still looked a bit confused by it all, but he said, “All right then, that’s settled. I’ll go next door. Get us something for dinner tonight—”

“I can’t, Dad. There’s a thing I have to do,” Tracy replied. He handed over the invitation; it was easier than trying to explain. Alexander’s pale cheeks flushed and a look of exultant pride filled his eyes.

“My boy. At an FFH ball. Your mother… I wish your mother…” He sank down on a chair at one of the sewing machines, and hid his eyes behind his hand for a brief moment.

“I’ll just take your bag upstairs, sir,” Donnel said with a nice display of delicacy, and he scuttled out of the workroom.

Alexander took several deep breaths, then sprang to his feet. “But enough of that! You need a shower, and give me that uniform and your dress uniform as well. We don’t want you going looking like a ragbag. And where did you come by that undress uniform? Did they decide you were too good for the crappy charity one? Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Alexander threw over his shoulder as he hurried toward the stairs.

The questions came flying too fast to be answered, which was probably for the best. Tracy picked the easiest one to answer. “Thirsty. I’m too nervous to be hungry.”

His father came back and gripped his shoulders. “You’ll be fine. You’re the equal of any of them.”

“Actually I’m better than most of them,” Tracy said with a proud smile. “I’m the second best student in our class.”

“Second best?”

“This guy, Ernesto Chapman-Owiti, he’s a fucking genius. He’s beating me because he’s better in biology.” There was once again that expression of desperate joy. His father reached out, cupped the nape of his neck, and pulled him close.

“Okay, enough. Let’s get you ready.” Tracy pulled out his dress uniform. His father saw the second one and gave him a startled look.

“It’s a long story that I probably shouldn’t tell you. Yeah, I better not. But it meant I got the undress uniform
and
another dress uniform.”

“You should wear this one tonight,” Alexander said, shaking out the uniform Tracy had gotten from Mercedes. “The one I made is rather piecemeal—”

Tracy grabbed Alexander by the arm. “I’m going to wear the uniform my father made for me.”

His father’s expression made Tracy look away and blink hard. Alexander grabbed a tape measure off a table and swept it around Tracy’s waist. “I’ll get the waistband adjusted, and get this pressed. Now go, go!”

Two hours later Tracy stood on the riser studying himself in the three mirrors. His father stood behind him smoothing the shoulders of his jacket. While he had showered, shaved and fought back panic his dad had been busy. The coat had been adjusted to accommodate the burgeoning muscles in his arms, back and chest, and the waistband on the trousers had been tightened. He pulled on his gloves and settled the billed cap on his head. On his left breast he now sported one ribbon awarded for the not terribly difficult task of successfully completing the first quarter. His boots had been polished to a mirror-bright finish, and the silver braid sparkled.

“Well, thanks to you I look the part.”

“You earned your place there. You’re not play acting. Now, how are you getting there?” Alexander asked as they walked to the front door of the shop.

“Tram then walk.”

“No.” His father dug out his credit spike. “You’re taking a cab.”

“Dad it’s too expen—”

“Now don’t argue with me.”

“Yes, sir.” He gripped his father’s arm. “Thanks. I’ll take the tram home.”

“I want the butler or majordomo or the footman to hand you into a flitter. Not walk off like some peddler who’s been turned away at the door.”

“Dad, they all know what I am.”

“Ah, but they don’t know
who
you are. You’re going to show them all.”

* * *

Julieta was a fairy queen in a sea-foam blue mermaid-style gown sewn with hundreds of tiny glittering aquamarines. Estella wore a champagne gown that complemented her ivory complexion. Mercedes had chosen an off-the-shoulder dark carmine gown with a deep V neckline and a billowing skirt. She lifted her skirt to examine her high-heeled pumps. A spray of garnets adorned the instep and sparkled in the heels. For contrast she drew on long black mousquetaire gloves. They fit more tightly over her upper arm than they had before. She noticed one of the three buttons on her left glove had popped loose, and she thrust it out. Flanon hurried forward and buttoned it closed.

“You look beautiful, La Dama,” the old Hajin maid said.

Mercedes nodded toward her sisters. “Oh, they outshine me by a mile.”

“But they won’t hold the throne,” her maid said and Mercedes heard the pride in her age-cracked voice.

“Who are you serving with me gone?” Mercedes asked as the servant gave her skirt one final twitch.

“Her Imperial Highness has assigned me to serve Beatrisa. I tried Tanis, but…” Her voice trailed away. It seemed everyone found Tanis to be a pain.

“Is Beatrisa behaving?”

“She’s a darling. Gentle as a breeze and so cheerful.”

“Now you’re just lying. She may be cheerful, but no one could call Bea gentle. Now don’t stay up. I’m sure my sisters will want to gossip, and we can help each other undress.”

Flanon bowed, but Mercedes knew the old Hajin would be up and waiting and probably have a cup of hot chocolate prepared.

Mercedes hurried forward with a rustle of skirts to join her sisters. They linked arms, and headed down the hallway. The gems on Julieta’s dress chimed softly with each step.
She’s exquisite
, Mercedes thought as she looked down at her smaller sister. There were more aquamarines flashing among the loops and curls of her upswept hair, and a necklace like tangled flowers held still more.
But she’s a baby. How can Daddy be thinking about her marriage?
The unsettling thought had her looking away to her closest friend and confidant. Estella was classic in champagne pearls. The necklace was so long that it was looped three times around her neck, and still hung almost to her waist. Pearls and diamonds flashed in her ears. Her hair was held in place by a mother of pearl and pearl encrusted comb.

There were five faces watching from four doorways. The eldest girls, Izzara and Tanis, fourteen and twelve respectively, were looking sulky and envious. The younger ones, the seven-year-old twins, Delia and Dulcinea, already in their nightgowns, were giggling and looked excited. Eleven-year-old Beatrisa made a face at them. She was not only a tomboy, but at that age where she scorned fripperies and furbelows.

If only she had been older
, Mercedes thought.
She would have loved The High Ground.
She took a firmer grip on her fan. She always became nervous and overheated at these affairs.

“Will there be ices and cookies?” Delia and Dulcie cried.

“Yes,” Mercedes answered.

“Will you bring us back some?” Their little voices were like the piping of songbirds.

Estella gathered them both into a hug. “Of course we will.”

Izzara and Tanis were mobbing Julieta. “I don’t know why you get to go and not me,” Izzara was saying. “I’m almost fifteen.”

Mercedes crossed to the gawky girl with her fiery red hair. Izzara and Tanis were fairer than their sisters and both showed a smattering of freckles across their noses and cheeks. Unfortunately Tanis had rather mousey brown hair as well as freckles. She seemed a small brown wren compared with her taller sister, and resentment oozed off her like a smell.

“Liar,” Mercedes said, pulling at Izzara’s ponytail. “It’s seven months until your birthday.”

The younger girl flounced away. “I don’t care. It’s not fair. It’s boring stuck here with the little girls.”

“But you’d look like a clown in a ballgown,” Tanis said in that nasty, cutting tone that the entire household had come to dread. “You’re flat as a pancake, and finding a color to wear that won’t clash with your orange mop would be impossible.” Tanis’s poisonous tongue was on full display and it went as it usually went.

Izzie gave a shriek of fury, burst into tears, stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door. A look of satisfaction flickered across Tanis’s face. Mercedes sighed. It was the fights between the siblings that had dictated they have separate rooms far sooner than their older sisters. Mercedes had cried when she’d been given her own quarters. Being separated from her sisters had been horrible, and she knew Estella and Julieta had shed many bitter tears as well. With Izzie and Tanis it had probably prevented bloodshed.

Delia and Dulcinea were staring wide-eyed at Tanis. Delia gave a little hiccupping sob and rubbed at her eyes. Estella smoothed her hair, setting the beads woven into her cornrows to chiming. “Don’t cry, sweetling.”

Mercedes rounded on her half-sister. “Go away, Tanis, until you can behave like an emperor’s daughter.”

Tanis gave Mercedes a cold-eyed look and went into her room. Her door closed very quietly. In some ways it was more unsettling than Izzie’s tantrum.

Beatrisa marched up and stood with her fists on her hips and a pugnacious expression. “Can I knock Tanis down? Can I? Please?”

“First, it’s
may I
,” Mercedes said. “And be my guest.”

“Can we please
go
,” Julieta cried. The crystals on her gown were chiming as she bounced in agitation.

“Just a minute! You don’t want to be the first to arrive anyway,” Mercedes shot back. She crossed to the twins and pulled them into a group hug. “Don’t be upset that Izzie and Tanis are fighting. It’s just something that happens when you’re a teenager.”

The twins exchanged glances. They looked both alarmed and confused. “But… but I love Delia,” Dulcinea said. “I wouldn’t ever make her mad or make her cry.”

“That’s because you’re twins, and twins are special,” Mercedes said. “And we’ll bring you back so many treats you’ll have tummy aches,” she promised. Standing she dropped kisses on the tops of their heads.

They traversed a few more hallways until they reached the top of the curving staircase. Fernán and Constanza waited in the marble foyer. Her father was wearing his star command uniform; on the left breast was a bewildering array of ribbons and medals. After three months at the academy Mercedes now recognized some of them. On the right side of his jacket he wore only the Galactic Cross, on which an ebony cross overlaid the diamonds of the Milky Way. Only the Emperor could wear this particular medal. The companions in the Order of the Galaxy wore only the galaxy.

The Emperor moved to the foot of the stairs and stared up at his eldest daughters. “You’re all so beautiful. And grown up. When did that happen?”

When did that happen?
Mercedes wondered. It seemed only yesterday he had introduced her to her first pony, and taught her how to throw a frisbee.