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They all got off lucky.
For the second time within as many months, Petr moved along the corridors of the Poseidon. Blind to the humanity around him, he swam with the relentlessness of the hunter. Ignored the sights and smells in which he usually took such pleasure.
The almost death of a good portion of his Aimag opened his eyes.
As with the epiphany concerning Jesup, Petr’s eyes were opened to the uncompromising truth of his own hypocrisy. For so long Petr had believed himself to be doing the best for his Aimag.
When in reality, he worked for himself.
That Delta Aimag truly prospered under such leadership meant nothing. Such thinking by Sha was how they arrived at this day, this hour. This moment in time.
The ends justify the means. Or in this case, my means justify the ends.
Stripped of every charade and rationalization by such a close brush with the a
Now, as he pushed off one last stanchion and sailed toward the saKhan’s main office on the Poseidon, he did not ignore the people around him because their regard was nothing more than his due, but because of a duty to fulfill, a mission to accomplish.
A fine line, but one that made all the difference in the world.
Petr rapped sharply on the hatch, which swung in almost immediately. A haggard face greeted him; he’d never see saKhan Se
“ovKhan Petr, what occurred,” he began, holding up a hand as though to stay a strike of condemnation. He paused, continued. “I ca
“saKhan,” Petr cut him off. “What almost occurred was a mistake… but it is the past. We must now move quickly to the future. We must move, or our Clan may be sundered beyond redemption.”
He risked much with his words; one did not cut off saKhan Se
“ovKhan Sha, saKhan. He lifted from Adhafera a week and more past, and we are giving chase. He must be stopped.” Petr stood just inside the hatch, his strained muscles pounded by multiple gravities for endless days calling out for rest. For sleep.
Disgust swam out from deep eyes to envelop the man’s face; a giant hand flicked, as though to cast away an unseen filth. “Not this again,” he began, the scorn in his voice a mirror of his visage. “You risked what you did on a whim? On your own assumptions of ineptitude? I have never made such an error before, but with you… a Trial of Grievance, here and now, is the only way you might survive this disaster.” Though the volume did not change, his voice hardened like endomorphic steel extruded from one of their many orbital factories; worlds might shatter against such a force of will.
Petr took the verbal whipping without a wince and walked past saKhan Se
Hopefully, surprise.
Petr tried not to think of the ramifications if this were not a surprise. Of the quick and brutal death at the other man’s hands if he guessed wrong.
The scene played out. He had only been able to bear to watch it one time before this. The art of it, a thrust to the midsection.
Audacious. Brilliant. Brutal. Terrific, and terrifying.
Sha’s plan encapsulated all a Clan Sea Fox merchant aspired to accomplish. To be. A hundred generations of teaching and refinement led to this. The sheer genius of it all simply took the breath away.
Yet, ultimately, it was traitorous. Destructive. The breaking of what made Clan Sea Fox… Sea Fox.
As the feed clicked off and the machine autoterminated its power, Petr slowly turned toward saKhan Se
Horror illuminated Mikel Se
Eyes locked onto Petr’s like laser-guided landing lights. In those depths, the stu
After a pregnant pause, full of strained anger and incredulity, Petr broke the silence. “My saKhan,” he began, as formal an address as he ever gave Khan Se
Licking his lips, Se
Petr felt like pushing forward, yet realized he might go too far too fast. He must allow Se
After what felt an eternity, Se
“And what of Sha?” he asked, his voice once more as hard as a ferrous-nickel Gauss round, with eyes to match.
Petr’s eyes mirrored the savagery; his voice was a sentence of a
“Leave him to me.”
28
Stewart DropPort, New Edinburgh
Lothian, Stewart
Prefecture VII, The Republic
24 September 3134
Anew world. New possibilities.
ovKhan Sha Clarke felt more confident than he had in days. Gazing out from the top of the off-loading ramp of the grounded DropShip Breaker of Waves, he could see the cityscape spread out before him, moving away from the DropPort into the distance: a surrealistic matte painting.
A twisting skein of metal, ferrocrete and high-strength polymers: man-made stalagmites rupturing the planet’s crust; spreading scintillating, serrated bones to the lapis lazuli sphere swathing Stewart.
In his years as a trader, Sha had beheld many cityscape vistas. Many that eclipsed New Edinburgh in size, or height, or population, or any number of parameters. But the jagged, strange design of the city’s largest buildings and its odd, twisting streets, set against such a magnificent dome of a sky, with literally not a single puff of white to pull at the eye (a stravag relief after the endless cloud cover of Adhafera), gestalted into a striking beauty all its own.
A light breeze—a touch harsh—carrying the dry aroma of desert sage and the ubiquitous reek of petrochemicals found in any city in the human sphere, caressed his nostrils.