A weary Harry Chen dropped his carry-on next to the visitor’s chair in his study. The flight had been delayed leaving Washington. These High Council meetings were taking a toll on his stamina. ‘Home should be a refuge’ he said to himself.

On cue he heard the tone he dreaded. “You’re late again” called out his wife Amelia Hubbard. “We’ve already started” she added with more than a hint of disapproval.

Harry blew out some air, girded his loins and somehow found the energy required to walk down the hallway to the dining room. He brushed across his thinning hair endeavouring to hide the growing expanse of bare skull. It was another of life’s disappointments. Why his parents opted not to cull that gene he never knew. ‘Hum’ he thought ‘it’s the least of my worries.’

As he approached the entrance to the dining room, he took in a deep breath. The third most powerful person in the human federation entered the dining room of his own house feeling inadequate.

The face that looked up from her plate was no longer the lure it had once been thirty years ago. It was a long face whose cheeks had hollowed out despite the best efforts of earth’s finest cosmetic surgeons. Her dark brown eyes rolled up to meet Harry’s. He felt them interrogating his form. He knew they would not fail to realise that he was weary but he also knew that there would be no acknowledgement let alone a soothing word. She gave him a slight nod before inserting another mouthful of filet steak into her mouth with the ornate silver fork.

Harry sat down in the chair on Amelia’s left. The chair opposite, on Amelia’s right, was occupied by their son, Commander Charles Chen. His son was in the middle of chewing his own mouthful. There wasn’t much left on his plate. Charles made an attempt to smile but opted to nod instead.

Harry removed the lid from his plate and took in the aroma of the steak diane. It was to his liking. He reached forward and took hold of the bottle. He inspected the label and nodded in appreciation. The Penfold Grange was the best cabernet sauvignon on the planet and his cellar was well stocked with them. He poured a glass and brought it to his nose and inhaled the satisfying aroma.

Amelia knew he loved his wine. She had witnessed this ritual of his all too often. She appreciated the benefits that came with being married to the Federation Treasurer but as she had done more and more of late she robbed him of his pleasure by interrupting him just as he was about to take a sip. “So?” she demanded.

Harry shook his head slightly. He was onto her little games. This was becoming annoying. It was a form of harassment. If Charles had not been here he would have said something. For now, he exercised all the restraint he was famous for. He slowly lowered the glass to the table. His prize would wait. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. He glanced across to Charles.

“It’s done. You have your war. You report to the spaceport tomorrow morning 0800 sharp.” Harry turned to Amelia. “I hope you are satisfied?” he said with more than a trace of sarcasm.

“The Resolute?” asked Amelia ignoring Harry’s tone. Her focus was only on the outcome. She had long since given up caring about how Harry felt.

Harry nodded but then decided to add “this cost us big time.” He turned to Charles “Don’t screw this up.” With great determination Harry took a good swallow of the precious red liquid. He forwent the niceties, keen for the after effects that only alcohol provided these days.

The rest of the meal was had in silence. Amelia excused herself at the earliest opportunity. A minute later Charles followed suit leaving his father to savour his food and wine in peace.

Charles made his way to his bedroom and began packing his gear. Most of it was done already, save for his Fleet whites that were now folded neatly into the suit compartment of his case. There was no expression on his face, no indication of how he felt.

The impassive demeanour was still there when Amelia entered a minute later. Amelia noted it just as she had done so many times before. There was something missing, emotionally, in her Charles. She put this down to Harry just like everything disappointing in her life was down to Harry.

She put her hand on Charles as he was closing the case shut. Charles turned and gave her a half smile. That was the best she would get from him. But her payoff would not be in terms of an emotional response. No, her payoff would be in terms of status.

Ever since she had graduated from Oxford she had only one goal and that was to attain the highest office in the Federation. Harry’s own ambition had torpedoed hers. She had reluctantly agreed to back his political career instead of her own when it looked like he would have the best chance of going all the way. Oh what a mistake that had been. Not only had Harry failed to deliver but he had seemingly, willingly accepted his fate as the loyal lieutenant – fool! It was now down to Charles.

“You know your father’s right about not screwing this up” she said in an even measured voice.

Charles put the suitcase down onto the floor and then looked back at his mother. “I got that. You don’t need to give me the lecture. I know what I have to do. Don’t worry. I will return the hero and claim my birth right.” He paused and waited for the response from his mother. She gave him the smile he knew would come. He then added “but I won’t be doing this for you mother. I will be doing it for me.”

BOOK: Audacity (Warner's World Book 5)

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