The High Ground (32 page)

“You two are going to be the death of me.” He heaved a sigh. “Okay. Give us a little time and we’ll tell you where.”

“Hope it’s not a mop closet or something,” Tracy said.

“Beggars shouldn’t be choosers.”

“She’s the Infanta.”

“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be doing this, but whatever.”

The alien clattered back through the door and it slid shut behind him.

* * *

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go alone?”

Mercedes stopped and looked at her batBEM. Tako was gazing at the floor, hands folded, a picture of deference completely at odds with the brashness of the question.

“And why would I do that? I’m merely thanking a subject for a thoughtful gift.” It sounded hollow even to her.

The Hajin’s eyes rose to meet hers. “Then why not thank him in a more public venue? And why did you lie to your ladies?”

That was a question Mercedes couldn’t answer. Why had she told the others she was going to the library and declined any of their company?

“I won’t betray you, my lady.”

Mercedes gave a sharp laugh. “You servants know all our business anyway.”

“Very true, my lady.”

“I wonder why we never remember that?” The Hajin remained silent, recognizing a rhetorical question. After a few more moments of dithering Mercedes gave a quick nod. “All right. Wait for me in the library. Good thing the academy is old-fashioned enough to still hang onto dead tree books even after they’ve been scanned. You can pretend I’m wandering in the stacks if anyone should inquire.”

“Fortunately that’s not likely to happen.” The alien hesitated, then reached into a skirt pocket and pulled out a thin envelope. Mercedes recognized it at once. It was the same thing Cipriana had waved in front of her. Contraception. “Would you like this, my lady?”

“No, I can’t.” The batBEM turned away. “Wait. Okay, I’ll take it. I’m not going to use it, but don’t say anything, okay?” She thrust the envelope deep into her trouser pocket.

“Of course not, my lady.”

The batBEM clattered off and Mercedes continued on to the upper observation lounge, fingering the envelope. This lounge was far smaller and less well appointed than the big lounge. More like a crystal soap bubble on the outer skin of the
cosmódromo
. For anyone afflicted by vertigo it was an uncomfortable space.

Tracy was seated on the low bench that ran the circumference of the space. One hand and his forehead were resting against the clear material of the curving walls. The light from the nebula threw his profile into strong relief. He looked around and smiled, once again transforming that rather plain face.

A surge of heat raced through Mercedes’ body. She firmly took her hand out of her pocket and away from temptation. He stood and started to bow. Mercedes threw out a hand, restraining him.

“Don’t. No protocol right now. Just a friend thanking another friend for a Christmas gift.”

He nodded. “All right.”

Mercedes sat down on the bench next to him and pulled up her trouser leg revealing her boot. “You can’t even see it, can you?”

He peered down. “No.”

She reached into the top of the boot and pulled out the blade. Exposed to the warmth of her palm it quickly thickened and lengthened.

Tracy leaned back. “Whoa! I didn’t know it would do that. That is awesome.”

Applying her left toe to the heel of her right boot Mercedes kicked it off to display the sheath strapped to her calf. “Now watch what happens when the point touches the sheath.”

The instant the blade kissed the sheath the knife again thinned and shortened. She slid it home.

“That is so cool. I wish I’d bought one for myself,” he said with a regretful headshake.

“Maybe Santa will bring you one,” Mercedes said, and winced because she sounded arch.

“I don’t think Santa’s sleigh is rated for vacuum.”

They fell silent. Mercedes was terribly aware of him. It was cold in the small observation bubble and he was a point of warmth. A mélange of smells wafted from his skin. Lemon from the academy soap, a dusky, spicy scent that was aftershave, a wisp of mint—he had obviously used mouthwash before meeting her. There was a tiny nick from a razor on his right jawline just below the ear. He was staring down at his hands that were tightly clasped in his lap. His breaths, quick and shallow, seemed loud in the silence.

A shivering tension gripped her; danced along nerve endings, set her heart racing. Warmth settled into her lower belly and there was a sudden disconcerting wetness in her crotch. She studied his lips, faintly pink, a little narrow. Wondered how it would feel to press her lips against them. She licked her lips, cleared her throat, waited. Nothing happened. He didn’t look at her. Didn’t make a move.

Insecurity seized her. How could it not when she compared herself to the diminutive beauty of Julieta or the elegance of Estella? She was scarecrow tall with a big nose and she had a bubble butt. She was suddenly back at her
quinceañera
. None of the boys had tried to kiss her then either. It seemed nobody wanted to kiss her.

The silence was becoming uncomfortable. Soon the moment would be lost. How could a girl reach eighteen and never have been kissed by a man apart from her father? What was wrong with her? Even an
intitulado
didn’t want her…

I’m the Infanta. It wouldn’t be proper with the Infanta.
Voices swirled through her head. Not her. Her position. That was what made her untouchable. It was also why she had power.

“I’m the Infanta,” she whispered softly.

“Beg pardon?” Tracy looked up.

Mercedes made the decision. “You have my permission to kiss me,” she said. The words were so formal. Would they break the moment or free them from this quivering anxiety?

The grey eyes filled with excitement and longing. He reached out and slid a hand around her shoulders, drew her toward him. His other hand snaked up into her hair which she had worn loose and long this day. He tilted his head, and pressed his lips lightly, oh so lightly against hers.

Breaths fluttered and mingled. Heat shot into her groin. She shivered. He started to pull away. She threw her arms around his neck and held him close. His mouth sought hers again. There was more authority to the kiss this time. She sighed, softening her lips. His tongue brushed gently across her upper lip. She gasped, moaned and opened her mouth. Her tongue found his, tasting, teasing, exploring.

Eyes closed, Mercedes floated in a wash of sensations. She was tremendously aware of the heightened sensitivity in her nipples as they brushed against the material of her bra. How warm his hands felt against her back. The taste of him, both sweet and astringent.

The envelope in her pocket seemed to suddenly have weight and heft. What if she…? Could she…? Dare she…? He was kissing her neck, his lips exploring the contours of her ears. Between kisses he whispered her name. She moaned and pulled him closer. He made a sound that was part groan, part muffled oath, and tore away from her.

Three strides had him on the opposite side of the room. His chest was heaving with panting breaths and his fists were clenched at his sides.

“What? Did I do something… something wrong?” Even to her own ears she sounded plaintive.

“No. I did.”

“I said you could.”

“I know, but things needed to stop before it got… well, very hard for me to stop.”

“It does rather sweep you away, doesn’t it?” she said lightly.

“Yeah. Especially for men. We’re pigs. I might not be in the FFH but I want you to always think I’m a gentleman.”

“There’s never been any doubt.” The madness was ebbing, the fever in her blood fading. Cold reality returned. “I should get back. My ladies know I’d never spend
too
long in the library.” They shared a forced laugh. “Thank you again for my gift. For both of them.” He shook his head, puzzled. “The kiss. My first. You’d be surprised the things you
don’t
get when you’re a princess. Good night, Tracy.”

“Good night, Highness.”

“Use my name. Just this once.”

“Good night… Mercedes.”

The incongruity apparently hadn’t struck The High Ground command so Mercedes and her ladies found themselves facing a giggling group of ten-year-old girls from one of the middle-class girls’ schools in a gelato store. Christmas was past and they were in that grey emotional hangover period that always seemed to follow the holiday. The field trip had been requested by the school and Mercedes was surprised when The High Ground had agreed. Since it was girls, Mercedes and her ladies had been given the task of telling the children how great a career in
Orden de la Estrella
would be.
Because nothing says a military career like recruiting kids with tasty frozen treats
, Mercedes thought. Given the stiff features of the teacher the good sister hadn’t missed the dissonance.

Judging by the dolphin-squeak giggles and the bursts of excited conversations the little girls seemed far more interested in trading bites of their various sloppy choices than hearing about life in the corps. They had all made their curtsey to Mercedes, holding up the skirts of their school uniforms with a precision that spoke of long hours of practice. After that they had been sent to the counter and all semblance of order had disappeared.

Mercedes didn’t really care. Looking at the flushed faces like radiant poppies, many with a smear of chocolate sauce around their lips, Mercedes thought of her little sisters, and hated the thought of what bullets would do to those faces and small fragile bodies.

The nun watched her charges with a critical eye and after a suitable amount of sugar had been ingested she clapped her hands. “All right now. It’s time to finish up and Her Highness the Infanta and her attendants are going to tell you all about going to school up here and how much they like it.”

“So that’s what we’re supposed to do,” Cipriana muttered past lips locked stiffly in a grimace-like smile as Mercedes stepped past her.

Summoning her own smile Mercedes asked, “So how did you all like the shuttle ride?”

“It was stellar!”

“It was scary.”

“It made my stomach feel ooky.”

“I threw up.” There were several voices that offered variations on that statement.

“I’ll tell you a little secret,” Mercedes said. “I threw up too the first and even the second time, but you get used to it.”

“I liked floating. It was like flying. I loved it,” a little girl with red cornrow braids offered.

“It is, but here on the station you can walk around and it’s that way on the big ships too. Do any of you know why?” Mercedes asked.

“Gravity,” another child piped up.

“Well, yes, but why is there gravity on the
cosmódromo
?” There were puzzled looks. “I’m going to let Lady Sumiko explain that to you.”

Sumiko started talking about spin. Mercedes decided to treat herself to a frozen lemon gelato. The young man at the counter never lifted his eyes to meet hers and he seemed completely tongue-tied. She thanked him for her cup because as her father had taught her it cost royalty nothing to be courteous.

Mercedes tossed on a lot of sprinkles and chopped almonds and hid her smile behind her spoon as she listened to the pedantic Sumiko trying to give a simple and stripped down explanation of artificial gravity.

There was a massive jolt. The cup flew out of her hand. For a wild instant Mercedes watched the scoop of gelato and the cup part company in slow motion.
Shit! The gravity’s gone!
Her time spent in shuttles and the
Infierno
had Mercedes grabbing for a handhold. Mercedes noted that Sumiko and Cipriana were doing the same. Dani had already secured herself to a freefall ring.
We can be taught
, she thought. The children, the nun and the server were not prepared. They started floating, arms and legs windmilling. Fortunately the tables and chairs in the ice cream store were bolted down. The League might trust their technology, but only so far.

The gravity returned, slamming them all to the floor. There were terrified screams and wails of pain. There was another massive jolt, which tipped them all hard to the left though this time the gravity held. The already frightened and injured children went tumbling. Glasses and bowls cascaded off the shelves, filling the air with the shattering sound of breaking glass and sending shards flying in all directions. One sliver sliced open Mercedes’ chin.

The
cosmódromo
stabilized and Danica and Cipriana immediately rushed to the children. Unfortunately their teacher was also down and unconscious. Blood flowed from her temple and her right arm was bent at an unnatural angle.

“What the hell is happening?” Mercedes hissed to Sumiko as she snatched up a napkin and mopped at the blood coursing down her chin.

“No idea. Can’t be a normal failure. It’s too violent. It’s like an entire row of stabilizing rockets fired at once and that—”

Whatever else she was going to say cut off when a helmeted and suited figure burst through the door of the café. He (she thought it was a he because of the size) carried a large shotgun, and he fired several shots. The expanding pellets blasted the shelves into pieces and left pock marks on the wall. One shot took the server in the chest and he went down, his white shirt stained red. The roar of the shotgun left Mercedes’ ears ringing.

Various instructors had said that time slowed down in a crisis situation. Mercedes had thought it was nonsense. Now she was experiencing it. She saw the open mouths of her ladies, hands reaching as if to push away the shotgun or the pellets. Muscle memory took command.

Time returned to normal as she found herself with her fingers pressed against the cold tile floor and halfway through a capoeira cartwheel. The move carried her across the gap, separating her from the gunman. She had an inverted view of the suited figure as her leading leg slammed against the front of his helmet.

He staggered and his next shot went into the ceiling. Acoustic tile rained down on them. Mercedes landed on her feet, then immediately dropped onto her arm and swept the legs out from under her off-balance assailant with her leg.