Resistance: Hathe Book One (25 page)

Ah, to
have been one of those fortunate few, they dreamed. Who cared if
the peasants spat
Lieger
contemptuously? The scum could not
even comprehend Terran society. The dazzle of that lost world of
the Haut Liege must have swept in a blazing mystery far above
them.

And
fun! The sheer sense of the ridiculous as he teased and cavorted
with this one and that. Drinking races with the Commander even. To
the Terrans, locked into the tensions of the conqueror and
subjected for so long before that to the harsh necessities
essential for survival on Earth, the Hathian breathed out freedom
itself. The Lady asn Castre also. It was not surprising Radcliff
had spread that conspiracy rumor to keep her to himself. Any man
there would have done the same. With each report, Hamon’s mood
worsened.

Jacquel saw it happening, but didn’t let it stop him. By the
end of the evening, just drunk enough to view his fellows through a
forgiving haze but betrayed only by the increasingly outrageous
nature of his remarks, he judged it time to make his peace with
Marthe’s glowering fiancé. She had terrible taste, but there was a
baby to be considered … and anticipation of the delights yet to
come that evening with the lusciously compliant Terran ladies
quelled the green devils.

He
made his way over to the pair. Slowly, it must be admitted. The
lovely Jocelyn waylaid him to confirm their rendezvous and a number
of the younger men stopped to remind him of promised adventures,
but finally he did reach the objects of his voyaging.

“
Des
Trurain. Having a pleasant evening, I trust.” The words were
polite, but that was all Radcliff managed. There was nothing
welcoming in his face and he clutched Marthe to his side as if
terrified of misplacing her. Jacquel let his grin widen.

“
Very much, thank you,” he said. “I have now come to offer my
congratulations on your forthcoming marriage. See, Marthe, I got it
all out. Not quite cut.”

“
Not
far off,” she chuckled, “and we both thank you very much. Would you
consent to be my chief witness?”

He
caught the edge of seriousness in her voice and gave her a quiet
nod before letting his jovial mask drop back. “Would I consent not
to be?” And he planted a less than brotherly kiss upon her mouth,
whispering as he did, “Thank you. I am honored.”

“
Marriage? What’s the boy talking about?” harrumphed an
elderly gentleman. “I thought you recorded the union a week
ago?”

“
An
archaic notion we cling to on Hathe,” explained Marthe sweetly.
“The declaration of vows before six witnesses is considered a legal
and binding marriage contract under our laws, even if it can’t be
entered into the computer. I just cannot be reconciled to your
temporary unions. Not when a child is involved.”

“
Here, what does he mean
union recorded
?” demanded
Jacquel, half joking, half sternly. “Is it that half person, half
marriage thing again? Never heard anything so ridiculous,” he
harrumphed back at the older Terran. He made no attempt to lower
his voice and a crowd began to gather. “Do you seriously think that
a well brought up lady like Madame asn Castre would contemplate
bearing a child without due sanction of marriage vows,” Jacquel
continued to declaim with all the pompous arrogance he could
muster, before adding in a cheerful aside, “or at least, nearly
well brought up. Do you remember that time you wandered into the
Council chambers in nothing but your night shift?”

“
Yes, at the age of five,” she retorted. “Must you tell the
whole world about it? And show some tolerance to these people. Most
have never heard of marriage.” This public exposition of her
private affairs was a bit much and the look she gave him made that
very clear.

‘
Get
used to it,’ said the careless shrug of his shoulders.

“
Ooh, a wedding. Just like in the old fairy stories,”
exclaimed one particularly silly girl.

Standing beside Marthe, Hamon could feel the growing anger in
her. He knew just how she felt, but then he’d had had the benefit
of an entire evening spent controlling his rage and he wasn’t about
to waste so much effort now.

“
Quite,” he said, throwing an icy glance in the direction of
the latest and stupidest sally. He turned to the Commander,
requesting permission for the ceremony and a public reception to
follow.

“
It
was to have been a small, private occasion, but des Trurain appears
to have decided otherwise. I would also be honored, sir, if you
would consent to act as one of my witnesses.”

The
Colonel nodded. Hamon raised his voice to announce the plans to all
present then turned to Marthe with a suggestion that it was time to
leave.

Marthe
took one look at the harsh green of his eyes and hastily agreed. A
tense silence blanketed them for all of two corridors. Then they
reached a stretch of passage free of monitors. He grabbed her arm,
lurching her to an ungainly halt. Then exploded.

“
I
hope the new wedding plans are more pleasing to you,” he snarled,
“but in future, talk to me directly, not through your lap
dog.”

She
breathed in deeply, not daring to reply while anger shone so
brightly in those eyes. Green, brilliant green and cold as
emeralds. Her gaze dropped lest he read too plainly her own
eyes.

But
that he wouldn’t tolerate. Wrenching her chin, he jerked her face
upwards. “You did plan that farce together.” he said, his face
suddenly bitter and weary in defeat.

Letting go her arm, he turned to leave. His back kept the
defiance of its straight rigidity, but he couldn’t hide the faint
slump of shoulders nor chase the grayness from the air. Even his
hair, that great shock of wayward black, was as still as death, not
a strand astray.

Desperately she clutched his arm, pulling at him to stop.
“You’re wrong, you know. Wrong.”

“
Am
I?” The retreat continued.

“
Yes. Don’t go like this.”

He
wouldn’t answer her this time. Racing after him, she swung on his
arm again, dragging him to a standstill. “Hamon Radcliff, you will
listen to me,” she cried, driven by desperation. “I did not ask
Jacquel to arrange a large wedding. I swear that on the spirit of
my brother and mother.”

“
Rather a momentous oath,” was all he said. Those eyes of his
stared flatly at her, flawed and cloudy with betrayal.

“
It’s the truth. I knew that he thought a large wedding more
suitable but I didn’t ask for anything this public. I swear
it.”

“
And
it never occurred to either of you that for the duration of this
fairy tale extravaganza of yours, you will succeed in removing most
of the staff of Earth’s central headquarters from their
posts?”

“
That’s ridiculous. What harm would it do anyway?”

“
For
one, your
beloved
peasants will be completely
unguarded.”

“
Then throw them a party as well. They’ll be too drunk to
think of causing trouble. How do you think we managed the problem
in the past? Threw them all in jail till we were finished?” she
sneered back. Convincingly, she hoped, but hating the need to act.
Did he even know that those few things she promised him were true,
were real? She must lie about so much, but not when she gave her
oath on it. It didn’t change what she must do now, and her stomach
crawled with self disgust.

“
So
now the whole complex is crippled. Your military genius astounds
me, madame.” There was no disembodied detachment now, his chin
turning down in a stabbing thrust at her.

“
You
do still have soldiers, or had you planned to have them parading
about the reception too? Stomp, stomp, stomp.”

“
Stop it,” he suddenly cried out, driven to his limits. “This
is our wedding we’re talking about. Just once, can’t you be honest.
Or at least keep your lies away from our private life.” Jerking out
of her hold, he turned to leave yet again, but she was there,
barring his way in an instant.

“
Not
yet,” she said, goaded partly by guilt and partly by anger at his
refusal to recognize where duty ended and Marthe began. “I had
meant to spare you this, but you leave me no choice. Jaca’s main
reasons for tonight are known to me, but they are not shameful, as
he thought your actions to be.”

That
stopped him, gave her the space she needed to continue.

“
He
was angry that a Terran should be so ignorant of the honor he gains
by union with a Hathian lady that he failed to offer marriage. Then
you do, but demand a hidden affair with the fewer Terrans who find
out the better. Instead of which, Jacquel claims, all Earth should
bow down and give thanks that a Hathian deigns to be joined with
one from such a primitive, uneducated race. Yours! And I begin to
think he may be right.”

“
You
arrogant witch!”

“
You, of all people, know I have every right to be. You were
here before the invasion, you tell me, and saw Hathe at its
brightest. You heard its poets, saw its monuments, stayed at the
hub of its politics. Can you truly compare your Terran cesspool
with that?”

“
Yes, I can.” he hissed. “I can compare an abundance of food
with a chronic scarcity. A planet teeming with resources and
practically empty of people, with one teeming with starving mouths.
A few hundred years of minor challenges and stability to many
thousands of years of tragedy, strife and effort. Your people act
like brash youth faced with an elderly parent.” He flung his arms
wide in frustration, then shoved them back against the wall again,
trapping her. “And how do you treat us, how do you treat the first
home of humanity? You desert us. You leave us to fight for our very
survival while you thoughtlessly carry on, reaping all the benefits
of our early care.”

“
By
the Pillars, not that great well of self pity again. The time
honored Terran scapegoat: we gave you life, you must help now! As
if we didn’t try. All the knowledge in the Alliance was going
begging, if you had cared to look. The technology exists for Earth
to manage its problems, but no, you had to do it on your own. The
colonies weren’t going to tell you how to run your affairs. And now
look: your medicine is twenty years behind, energy forty years and
communications fifty, and your social structure relies on absolute
tyranny.”

“
You
are too kind.”

“
Do
you know the final irony. We never realized. Not one single
Alliance planet ever guessed. The only thing you were good at was
keeping a secret, and the result? Your planet is dying, mine is
dead, and I am to be married in a quiet ceremony, just like our old
funerals.”

She
had said too much, yet again; but it no longer mattered. Her voice
as she finished was as flat as his had been earlier and she
wouldn’t meet his eyes. So this was defeat. She could feel him
watching her, but couldn’t pretend any longer.

“
Very well,” he said, anger still in his voice. “The wedding
shall be as grand as any of old Hathe.”

“
The
wedding won’t happen. How can it, after this?”

“
It
will,” he said firmly, “for without it, you win.” His hand caught
her chin and steadily lifted her head to face him. Lines gouged the
sides of his mouth and his eyes were as serious as she has seen
them. “My child will know and respect its father, this I vow. Which
means I can’t let you go. The wedding will proceed. What’s more, it
will be celebrated with all the fanfare you could wish for. And
afterwards, you’ll be bound to me for life, as I will be bound to
you.

“
It
doesn’t bind you,” she said dully.

His
head went up at that, but his eyes never left hers, snapping with a
brilliant fire. “Your sheer incomprehension astounds me sometimes.
Of course it binds me. You’re not getting a one-sided bargain.” One
hand dragged through the thatch of his hair as he stepped back,
pacing brusquely as his hand pulled through the heavy strands in
frustration. Then the hand dropped and she saw acceptance and tired
defeat in the grim lines of his mouth. When he spoke, it was in the
formal language she knew too well as a politician’s daughter. The
language of distance and enmity.

“
It
would be best if we leave this for now and retire for the evening,”
he said. “May I have your pledge that you will go straight to our
quarters?” He paused painfully. “I find that I would prefer to be
elsewhere this night.”

She
could only nod, and walk away, conscious of a pair of eyes watching
her all along that endless corridor. The corner released her. She
took to her heels then, fleeing wordlessly to the sanctuary of his
quarters, to their great big sleeper. And her tears.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It
was to be a long and sleepless night, not helped at all by the
demons of jealousy that asked, even now, just where he was
sleeping. Please let it be on his own, she prayed. Why did the
Council have to extract this payment? Was it so wrong to marry the
enemy that even her wedding must serve as yet one more diversion
for the gathering of information? Surely there was sufficient data
on the Citadel already? In the end, she was forced to admit that,
no, there was not. She finally drifted into sleep—light,
unrewarding, and beset by grief-ridden images of an empty
future.