"I, Mengsk" - читать интересную книгу автора (McNeill Graham)

CHAPTER 10

KORHAL. THE PLANET OF HIS BIRTH. UNTIL HE SET fool on it once again, Arcturus hadn't realized how much he'd missed the place. Stepping from the orbital flyer that had brought him from the John Lomas, Arcturus followed the crowds making their way to the starport's exit. Given the anti-Confederate unrest the UNN was reporting on Korhal, Arcturus had packed his uniform into his suit-bag, but his CMC identi-tags were hung around his neck to ease his passage through the security checkpoints.

Under normal circumstances, his tags should have allowed him to pass through with the bare minimum of effort, but it took a frustrating two hours to travel from the flyer to the arrivals lounge, the culmination of a several-day journey from Tyrador IX and Juliana.

Their parting had been emotional and heartbreaking.

For her, at least.

When dawn's light had shone through the polarized glass of his hotel window, Arcturus woke with the bitter taste of regret in his mouth. Looking at the sleeping form of Juliana, perfectly outlined by the tousled sheets, he had felt nothing but a profound sense of irritation at his giving in to passion and letting emotion cloud his judgment.

Yes, he had wanted to take Juliana to his bed, and had gone to some effort to do so, but now that the deed was done, he felt a curious regret. Perhaps the previous night's atrocity had touched him more deeply than he had thought, but lying in the half-light of morning, he felt a sense of closure, and yet an awareness of new beginnings. It was a curious sensation.

He had slipped silently from the bed and dressed, then gathered his belongings. Before he could leave, Juliana had woken and smiled. He had stayed long enough to share some breakfast before making his escape, promising that they would see each other soon. She had cried at the thought of his leaving, and he had held her for an appropriate length of time before prising himself from her clinging embrace.

And with that, he had left her.

Arcturus wasn't sure exactly what he now thought of Juliana Pasteur. On the one hand, she was a beautiful woman: but on the other—if he was honest—she had been nothing more than an exercise in satisfying his own vanity. Though it had taken him longer than he would have expected, he had gotten everything he wanted from her and she was therefore of little further interest to him.

Of course, her interest in him was undimmed, but that was a problem for another day.

Putting Juliana Pasteur from his mind, Arcturus had boarded the John Lomas and made his way to Korhal.

As he strode toward the arrivals lounge, he saw armed patrols of Confederate militia at every step, groups of hard-eyed men and women scanning the crowds for any potential threat.

Have things really gotten that bad?

There had been a few reports on the UNN of the troubles on Korhal—riots, ambushes, and the occasional bombing, but the media had played these down as isolated incidents perpetrated by lone madmen. Now, here on the ground of Korhal, Arcturus wasn't so sure.

"My father's been busy," he whispered to himself.

The doors to the arrivals lounge opened and he emerged into a crowded concourse of eager faces, men and women and children awaiting reunions with loved ones. Arcturus hefted his suit-bag onto his shoulder and scanned the gathered people, looking for a familiar face.

When he finally saw one, it certainly wasn't one he'd expected. "Welcome back," said Achton Feld, taking Arcturus's bag.

"Feld?” said Arcturus by way of a greeting. "Where are my mother and father? And Dorothy?"

"They're down the coast," said Feld, "at the summer villa."

"And they couldn't come themselves?"

"Not safely."

Arcturus sighed. He shouldn't have been surprised, but he had held to a faint hope that his parents might have bothered to come and greet the prodigal son back to the family heartland.

He saw Feld sizing him up with a critical eye.

"What?"

"You've changed,” noted Feld. "Something about you is different."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know exactly, but you look better for it, that's for sure."

"I'm so glad you think so."

Feld nodded wearily at Arcturus's sarcasm. "Okay then...let's get to the groundcar."

From the bedroom he shared with his wife, Angus watched the silver groundcar as it made its way along the road toward the summer villa, a heavy feeling lurking in the pit of his stomach. It had been two years since he had seen his son, and the emotions of the day when Katherine had tearfully told him that Arcturus had joined the Marines were as strong as ever.

Angus struggled to hold his temper as he thought back to Dorothy's tears that same evening, knowing that Katherine had pinned her hopes on a family reconciliation tonight. Katherine's happiness was the most important thing in the world to Angus Mengsk, and he just hoped he could get through this evening without barking at his errant son.

"Are you ready?" said Katherine from the bedroom door. "He's almost here."

Angus turned and gave his wife a smile. "I don't know if I'm ready, but let's go anyway."

"Please. Angus," said Katherine. "You promised."

"I know," he said, reaching out to her. She came into the room and took his hands. "But I can't forget how he hurt you. How he hurt all of us."

"You have to. Arcturus is our son."

"But joining the military," said Angus, shaking his head. "Of all the ways he could have chosen to disappoint me—"

"Stop it," said Katherine, in a lone that warned Angus he was on thin ice. "He is our son and he will be welcome here, no matter what. Do you understand me?"

"Of course, dear, but the boy infuriates me."

Katherine smiled. "No one gets under our skin quite like the people we love."

"Especially family," said Angus.

"Especially family," agreed Katherine. "They wouldn't get to us so much if we didn't love them."

"I suppose," said Angus. "Where's Dorothy?"

"She's in her room."

"Is she coming down?"

"Not yet," said Katherine sadly. "She's just curled up with Pontius and says she doesn't want to see Arcturus."

"I don't see why she gets out of this and I can't," grumbled Angus.

"Are you seriously pouting because you're having to do something a six-year-old won't?"

"No..."

"Shame on you, Angus Mengsk," said Katherine. "Now, come on. Let's go downstairs."

"Fine," said Angus, taking a deep breath and straightening his jacket. "How do I look?"

"Like a father," said Katherine.

The groundcar drew to a halt within the villa's courtyard and Arcturus got out in time to see his mother and father emerge onto the steps before the front door. His father was dressed in an immaculate, severely cut suit of ash gray with the wolf-head emblem on the breast packet, while his mother wore an elegant dress of cornflower blue.

The air was fresh with the tang of saltwater and a pleasing chill blew in off the ocean. As five armed guards stood in the shadows of the courtyard, Arcturus stood straight and with his shoulders back, trying to read the expressions on his parents faces. His mother smiled warmly, and Arcturus thought he detected a faint hint of welcome even in his father's stern features.

Achton Feld moved past him with his suit-bag and Arcturus followed him.

As he reached the bottom of the steps, his mother came down and embraced him, all her thoughts of reserve forgotten as tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Oh, Arcturus...." she wept. "It's so good to have you home. We've missed you so much."

He returned his mother's embrace, feeling a powerful, forgiving sense of return. He surrendered to it and felt years of bitterness begin to wash away at the simple sincerity of his mother's welcoming love.

Eventually his mother released him and he found himself face-to-face with his father.

The moment stretched and the warmth of the previous welcome faded like a distant memory. At last his father extended his hand.

"Good to see you, son," said Angus.

Arcturus smiled, though it was an effort. "And you, Father."

They shook hands stiffly, but Arcturus could discern that, despite himself, his father was actually pleased to see him.

"You've changed," said Angus.

"So Feld tells me," replied Arcturus. "Though he seems unable to say how."

"It's your eyes. You've gotten older. You've done things that have aged you."

"Is that a good thing?"

"I don't know yet," said his father, releasing his hand.

Arcturus saw his mother narrow her eyes and turned to her. "Where's Dorothy?"

"She's upstairs." said his mother. "Asleep. It seemed a shame to wake her."

Arcturus caught the hesitation in her reply and said. "Come on, Mother. Where is she really?"

"She's upstairs," repeated Katherine. "She's just... Well, she's still angry with you."

"After two years?"

"People can hold grudges for longer than that," said his father.

Arcturus nodded. "So I gather. She's in her room?"

"Yes," said Katherine, "but maybe you should let her come down in her own time, dear?"

"I don't think so," said Arcturus. "If there's one thing I've learned, it's that it's almost always best to tackle a problem head-on."

"The Marines teach you that?" said Angus.

"No, I learned that from you," said Arcturus, sweeping past his parents and into the villa.

The entrance hall was exactly as he remembered it, with its checkerboard-patterned floor, dark paneling, and gold-framed portraits. His mother's objets d'art still stood on their while marble columns, and no sooner was he across the threshold than a hundred memories from his childhood returned.

He stood in the warm hallway, letting the smells of the house wash over him in a sustained assault on his senses: the wax rubbed into the wooden floors, the aroma of slowly cooking dinner, the polish used on the silverware. Arcturus could hear the bustle of staff in the kitchens, the creak and groan of an aged house warmed by the sun, and the hum of the generator room deep in the basement

The house spoke to him in a language of the senses, a combination of a thousand different sights, sounds, and smells, but they all blended into one simple feeling.

He was home.

How many soldiers fantasized about home? All of them, even the ones with nothing much to look forward to at the end of their term of service. Home was an idealized notion to most military men, but here, standing in the house in which he'd spent every summer growing up, Arcturus knew that this was no fantasy.

Arcturus climbed the stairs, avoiding the creaking ones—as he had always done as a child—and made his way toward Dorothy's room. He smiled as he saw that her door was still covered with colorful letters.

He knocked lightly on the door, three slow knocks followed by three quick ones, the secret code they'd used when she was little more than a toddler.

"Go away!" came a voice from beyond the door.

"Llltle Dot, it's me," he said. "Arcturus."

"I know."

Realizing he would get nowhere like this, Arcturus pushed open the door and went in. Inside, he saw that Dorothy's room had changed since the last time he'd seen it. It was still strewn with toys, but there was an order to them now, a hierarchy that had Dorothy clearly at the top.

His sister lay on her back in the center of her bed. Pontius the pony held tightly across her chest. The old pony was looking a little threadbare, but Dorothy plainly wasn't about to let that stop her from hanging on to him.

"Hello, Little Dot," he said. "I'm back home."

"No one calls me that anymore," said Dorothy. "I'm not a baby anymore."

Arcturus crossed the room to stand at the side of her bed, observing that Dorothy had indeed grown since he had seen her last. She had blossomed into a pretty little girl with the distinctive high cheekbones of her mother and the thunderous brow of her father.

She wore a smart dress and her hair was pleated in two pigtails. Even lying down, she looked every inch the Mengsk she was.

He smiled. "Okay. So what do they call you now then?"

"Dorothy, silly," she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, which, he had to admit, it probably was. "What else would they call me?"

"Sorry, yes, should have thought about that," he said, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"I don't want to talk to you," said Dorothy, rolling away from him and onto her side.

"Well, that's too bad," said Arcturus. "I suppose I'll have to keep the present I was going to give you. Maybe I'll give it some poor children."

"I don't care," she said. "I don't want it anyway."

"That's a shame. It was a really nice present."

"I told you, I don't care," said Dorothy, and Arcturus saw he wasn't going to win her over with simple appeals to a child's greed. As always, he'd have to go for the emotlonal blackmail.

"I wrote to you every day, but you didn't write back," he said. "I missed you. I really missed you, little sister."

"Then why did you leave me?" she cried, rolling over to face him and hurling Pontius at him. The stuffed pony bounced to the floor and Arcturus leaned back as Dorothy rose to her knees and hit him over and over on the chest with tiny fists.

"You went away and left me without saying good-bye," she sobbed.

He let her vent her frustrations on him without protest, and when she was done, he put his arms around her and held her tightly.

"I know I did, and I'm sorry. I never meant to leave you like that."

"Then why did you go? I never saw you to say good-bye."

"I...I had to go," he said. "I couldn't stay here."

"Why? Because of Daddy?"

"No, it was because of me. I had to go and do something for me, something that wasn't some idea or plan of his. Joining up was my way of doing that."

"You could have died," cried Dorothy. "Soldiers get shot at and blown up all the time. I see it on the news every day, even though Mummy and Daddy don't like me watching it. I kept looking for you, I kept watching the news and wondering if you'd been killed."

Arcturus held his sister close as she cried, not having thought about what she must have gone through, wondering if he was alive or dead. His mother and father would no doubt have assured her that he was alive and well, but what force could compete with the imagination of a six-year-old?

"I'm sorry. Dorothy. I really am. I never meant for you to worry about me. I'm your big brother—I can look after myself."

"And who's going to look after me? You're my big brother and you promised you wouldn't let anything happen to me. But then you went away and anything could have happened to me. Those bad men could have come back and shot Mummy and Daddy and me. Or a bomb could have blown us all up or those rebels with guns could have shot us because Daddy has so much money."

The words poured from Dorothy in a rush and Arcturus felt his heart go out to her. Dorothy was a confident, articulate little girl—and a Mengsk to boot—but she was still only six. He realized he had forgotten that.

"Nothing like that could happen," he said as forcefully as he could. "Daddy pays Achton Feld too much money for anything to happen to you. And now that I'm a soldier, I have a big gun and a whole platoon of marines who will protect you. I promise."

She squeezed him lightly and he smiled, knowing he had won her around.

"I missed you," she said. "I cried for a week when you left."

"I'm sorry," he said once more. "But I'm back for a while and I promise I won't go away this lime without telling you first."

"Mummy really missed you. I heard her crying too. Daddy missed you as well. He never said it, but I could tell that he did."

Arcturus lifted her face from his shoulder. "I love you, Dorothy. And I always will."

"I love you too," she sniffed. "And it's okay—you can call me Little Dot if you want.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," said Dorothy. "Now where's my present?"

Dining room and comprising several courses, a wide selection of wines, and a grand fire burning in the iron grate. Angus Mengsk sat at one end of the long rosewood dining room table, with Katherine at the other end and Arcturus in the middle to his father's right.

Dorothy sat opposite Arcturus and sipped from a cup of fresh apple juice. As was customary, Pontius sat at the table next to her, with his own place selling. Arcturus and his father had shared a glass of port before dinner, a breach of etiquette under normal circumstances, but Angus had never liked doing things by the book—a trait he seemed not to know that he had passed on to his son.

Angus had drunk a while port, but Arcturus found he preferred a darker, ruby port, and they had sat on either side of the chessboard as his mother cleaned Dorothy up for dinner. The carved pieces were arrayed for battle, but neither man was in the mood for a game.

Arcturus had defeated his father when he was eleven, and they had never played since.

They spoke guardedly, with Arcturus unsurprised lo discover that his father was just as vocal as ever in his condemnation of the Confederacy. The special target of Angus's ire these days was the fact that the construction of the new Korhal Assembly Forum had been abandoned and the site bulldozed for some overpriced housing development. Of course, the demolition contract had been awarded to a company owned by one of the Old Families, the Tygores, and the new building contract awarded to a firm owned by a distant nephew of Andrea Tygore.

Times changed, but corruption, it seemed, stayed the same.

Arcturus drained the last of his port as his mother and Dorothy entered the dining room. His father smiled at the sight of his daughter, and Arcturus was reminded that, above all the politicking, the railing against the Confederacy, and his complicity in terrorist activities, Angus Mengsk was still a loving father.

The family seated themselves at the table and dinner began, with the slightly strained atmosphere broken by the excited chatter of Dorothy as she spun tales of her preschool class and the many children she played with.

As he watched the faces of his mother and father come to life, Arcturus realized that it must have been some time since Dorothy had opened up like this. Conversation flawed around the table, though Arcturus saw how his mother skillfully steered them all away from any contentious topics.

The first course arrived, a truffle custard garnished with small slivers of pate, and Arcturus made appreciative noises as he lasted the food. Like many wives of wealthy men, Katherine Mengsk look a keen interest in the running of the household, and the majority of the dishes served were ones of her own creation, using local ingredients and incorporating her family's favorite flavors. Small glasses of a light, sparkling wine were served with the first course, which was swiftly followed by a mushroom risotto with baby arugula, Manchego cheese, and a lemon-parsley sauce.

Used to living on a diet of ration packs and mess hall dishes, Arcturus found himself struggling with the sheer volume of food, but a lavender sorbet cleared his palate in lime for a roasted rosemary pork loin brochette with tomato-port sauce and Gruyere cheese grits.

Finally, a shallow bowl of sweet potato pound cake with a blood-orange-and-bourbon glaze and nutmeg whipped cream was served, and after one portion Arcturus knew he could not eat another mouthful.

Coffees were served and a small bowl of mints placed in the center of the table.

"Mother, that was a triumph," said Arcturus as the last of the plates were cleared.

"Absolutely." agreed Angus, and Katherine smiled to see her son and husband in agreement for once.

"I'm glad you approve," said Katherine. "I planned the menu especially for tonight. I wanted us to have a proper family dinner together. It's been too long since we all sat around a table and just enjoyed each other's company. Don't you agree?"

Arcturus hid a smile at his mother's seemingly innocent question, recognizing an iron fist in a velvet glove when he saw one.

"Of course," said Angus, hearing the same thing, and Arcturus looked over at his father to share a knowing look. The ease of the glance and the natural way he had looked over surprised him as much as it appeared to surprise his father.

"I've missed this," said Arcturus. "It's good to be back home."

"I'm glad you're back," said Dorothy, and the matter was settled.

With the dinner cleared away, Katherine hustled Dorothy off to bed, though not before she had secured hugs and kisses for both herself and Pontius from her father and brother. With the women of the household away, the friction that had fled upon their arrival snuck back into the room like a malignant shadow.

"A glass of port?" asked Angus, and Arcturus nodded.

"Ruby for me," he said.

Angus poured two glasses of port and handed one to Arcturus. They stood in silence for a moment, and Arcturus saw his father struggling to find the right words. With Katherine present, conversation had been light and inconsequential, but without her calming influence, the tension between these two alpha males was resurgent.

"I'm glad you came, son," said Angus at last. "Your mother went to a lot of trouble tonight. And Dorothy, well, you can see how pleased she is to see you."

"And you?" asked Arcturus. "Are you pleased to see me?"

"Of course. You know I am. You are my son."

"I know, but the last time we spoke wasn't exactly friendly."

"You had just gone and joined the Marines," said Angus. "My son the Confederate marine... what did you expect?"

"I expected you to respect my damn decision," snapped Arcturus.

Angus sighed and took a sip of his port. "Are you trying to pick a fight, Arcturus?"

"No," said Arcturus. "I'm really not. It's just... well, we've never seen eye to eye on lots of things, have we?"

"Not that I can recall, no."

"Exactly, and back when I was living on Korhal, every time you looked at me, it was like you were trying to find faults with whatever I did. Nothing I did was ever good enough for you."

"That's ridiculous," said Angus. "I just wanted the best for you. You see that, surely?"

"The best for me? Are you sure? Or did you want the best for you? What I wanted didn't seem important. All you cared about was whether I was a fit successor to you."

Angus poured himself another glass of port, using the time to curb an angry outburst.

Arcturus knew that goading his father could only end one way, but couldn't stop the words from flowing. Two years of pent-up feelings were now coming out and he couldn't stop them.

"Arcturus, you are my son and I have only ever wanted the best for you. You are intelligent and can be the best at whatever you want to be, but to waste your life fighting for a tyrannical, corrupt regime that seeks to take control of everything in the galaxy is just stupid."

"So now I'm stupid?"

"That's not what I said. You're not even listening to me, you're hearing what you want to hear so you can prolong this argument."

Arcturus knew his father was speaking the truth, but the memory of Private Shaw leapt to the forefront of his mind, the image of the boy's torn-up body lying in a pool of blood on the floor of a bar on Tyrador IX fogging his usual clearheadedness.

"No, that's not it at all," said Arcturus.

"Then what is it?" demanded Angus. "Because I'd really like to know."

"It's what you're doing on Korhal,” said Arcturus. "The bombings and the riots. You and Feld and your band of revolutionaries are still fanning the flames of hatred here, aren't you?"

"Keep your damn voice down," hissed Angus.

"Why? Afraid this Confederate marine might report you to the authorities?"

"You wouldn't?" said Angus, genuinely horrified at the notion of his son turning on him.

"No, of course not, but I've seen the reality of what people like you are doing," said Arcturus. "I saw the bodies and the blood on Tyrador IX, and I heard the screaming. You can justify what you're doing with talk of corruption and with clever wordplay, but I've seen what's left behind. I saw men shot down without mercy, and God knows how many innocent bystanders were caught in the crossfire. If that's what you're doing, then I want no part of it."

"The attack on Tyrador IX was nothing to do with me, Arcturus," said Angus, taking a step toward him. "I swear it. We only attack military targets. Combatants. Because we're in a war, make no mistake about that."

"Military targets?" said Angus, pulling his marine ident-tags from beneath his shirt. "What do you think these make me? Tell me, would you bomb me or authorize some other attack that might get me killed if it was part of your grand plan?"

"Of course not! Arcturus, why are you doing this? Your mother wanted for us to became a family again tonight. Don't ruin it for her."

"It was a mistake coming here," said Arcturus, putting down his glass and turning toward the door. "I should go."

"No, Arcturus, please stay," said Angus, following him and taking his arm. "For your mother and Dorothy if not for me."

Arcturus turned to face his father. "I'll be gone in the morning."

Far from the glowing jewel that was Styrling, the darkness of the sky was absolute. Arcturus sat on the walnut bench his father had built at the end of the path from the villa, watching the sea explode against the cliffs below in silver cascades. A bronze plaque in the middle of the bench was carved with a memorial inscription to Arcturus's grandfather. Augustus, but the words had been obscured by a green skim of corrosion and could no longer be read.

Hle sat and looked up at the stars, wondering which ones he would travel to next. The possibilities were endless, and certainly he was likely to see a great many different worlds with the Marines.

And once he was tired of military life, a point he knew was fast approaching, he would muster out and head to the rim. Just far enough out to be free.

Arcturus felt a vibration in his pocket and took out his fone. He waited until the tone had stopped and then flipped it open. Another message from Juliana. That made fifteen since he had arrived on Korhal.

He sighed and replaced the fone in his pocket as he heard footsteps behind him.

"Mind if I join you?" said Achlon Feld.

"If you're here to convince me to stay then you're wasting your breath."

"I'm not. I know it's a lost cause trying to convince you of anything."

Arcturus nodded and gestured toward the bench. "Then sit down."

The two men sat in silence for a while, content to simply enjoy the majesty of the view. Farther out to sea, the ocean was like a black mirror, vast and reflecting the stars above in wavering pinpoints. Occasional sliver streaks flashed across the sky. Arcturus liked to believe they were shooting stars, though he knew they were simply starships hilling the atmosphere.

"You'll regret this, you know," said Feld eventually.

"What?"

"Leaving like this. You don't know what's going to happen in the future, so do you really want this to be the last memory you have of your folks?"

"You're being melodramatic, Feld," said Arcturus. "It doesn't suit you."

"I'm not, Arcturus. Trust me, what's happening on Korhal is more dangerous than you know. The Confederacy is running scared here, and anyone who's seen combat knows that's when the enemy is at its most dangerous. They'll try anything and, as good as I am, I can't guarantee anyone's safety in the face of that kind of desperation."

"Are things really that bad?"

Feld simply nodded and said. "You can never go home. Isn't that what they say?"

"Who?"

"They. Them. Whoever. It doesn't matter."

"What does it mean?"

"When you live here on Korhal, you think it's the center of the world and you believe nothing will ever change. Then you leave and don't come back for a few years. And when you come back, everything's changed. The connection's broken. What you came to find isn't there and what was yours is gone. You'll have to go away for a long time before you can come back and find your people. The world where you were born. But now, for you, it's not possible. You're not ready to come back to Korhal. Or maybe she's not ready for you. I don't know."

"Since when did you become a philosopher, Feld?"

"I've been around," said Feld, "and I picked up a few things along the way. Just don't do anything rash, okay? If you're going to leave, fine, leave, but say good-bye first. Don't leave like last time."

"Don't burn any bridges? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yeah, I guess it is," agreed Feld. "Say your good-byes, and then go. And don't come back until you're ready to come back. Make a clean break until then."

Arcturus's fone trilled again and he knew who it was without even looking.

Juliana.

“A clean break, you say?"

"Yeah."

"I think you might be right, Feld."