I mengsk, p.10
I, Mengsk, page 10
Feld heard a double click in his earpiece and felt a jolt of adrenaline hit his system.
Angus was on his way.
Sure enough, Feld saw the silver ’58 Terra Cougar as it pulled slowly around the curve of the road that led to where he awaited his employer and friend. The groundcar moved slowly and Feld silently willed it to hurry up as the noise of the crowd grew louder with word of Angus’s arrival.
At last the groundcar pulled up, and Feld moved quickly to open the door. The door slid upward and Angus Mengsk emerged from within, resplendent in his bright red toga. Angus stood tall, waving to the crowd with his head held high, his smile warm and genuine.
Katherine Mengsk followed him from the car, and Feld did a slow double take at the sight of her. She was dressed in a simple yet elegant dress of cornflower blue, her long dark hair bound up in a flattering style that brought out the classical lines of her cheekbones.
Angus turned back and took Katherine’s hand, but before he could walk to the end of Senators’ Parade, Feld stepped close and said, “What the hell are you doing, Angus?”
“I’m walking toward the Forum, Achton,” said Angus through his smile. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks like you’re blatantly disregarding the security plan we discussed. What is Katherine doing here? She was supposed to meet you at the Forum.”
“I didn’t like that plan,” said Angus. “Now get out of my way. I’m going to walk to the Forum with my wife, and I don’t want you next to me like a guard dog at my heel.”
“Do you want to get killed?” asked Feld. “Is that it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous—even the Confederacy wouldn’t try anything today,” scoffed Angus. “And we’re both shielded by that force field of yours. Nothing’s going to happen.”
Feld stepped back and allowed Angus to walk past him, angry beyond words that the senator had so casually thrown out the security plan designed to keep him safe. Angus was probably right that nothing would happen today, but in Feld’s experience it was usually just at that moment—when you lowered your guard—that your enemies struck.
Cursing Angus’s need for dramatic gestures, Feld quickly broadcast an update on the security situation to his men in the crowd and closed the groundcar’s door, thankful that Angus hadn’t gone the whole hog and decided to bring Dorothy along. The vehicle would follow a discreet distance behind Angus in case a speedy exit was called for, and Feld just hoped it would not be needed.
Setting off alongside the groundcar, Feld scanned the crowd as Angus began his walk to the sounds of ecstatic cheers and howls of support. Every face was fixed on Angus and his glamorous wife.
Any one of them could be a potential threat, Feld knew.
I should have taken that job on Brontes, he thought.
* * *
Angus felt the mood of the people surging through him and knew he’d made the right decision to bring Katherine along with him. He was just sorry he hadn’t decided to ask his wife to bring Dorothy and Arcturus, but quickly discarded that thought.
Bringing a child as young as Little Dot to an event like this would be foolish, and Arcturus … well, his son would never have agreed anyway. They had spoken little since the events of Graduation Day, his dealings with Ailin Pasteur and preparations for today’s events taking up the bulk of his time.
In any case, Arcturus had been spending most of his time since leaving the academy with Pasteur’s daughter. The only real time Angus and his son had spoken had been yesterday at breakfast, where, despite his wife’s warning glance, Angus had broached the subject of what Arcturus was planning on doing with his life.
“I haven’t decided yet,” said Arcturus, and Angus’s political instincts sensed evasion.
“I could set up an interview with Nestor Jurgens,” said Angus nonchalantly. “He runs one of my machine tooling factories in Fairstens. He’s a good man—you could learn a lot from him.”
“What would I want to learn from a factory manager?” said Arcturus.
“Nestor’s more than just a factory manager,” replied Angus, irritated at his son’s ingratitude. “All my managers effectively run their businesses autonomously. They’re CEOs and financial managers all in one, though, of course, they answer to me. You’re eighteen now, and you’d learn the ropes of what it takes to succeed in the industrial marketplace and acquire the skills you’ll need if you’re going to succeed me.”
“Succeed you?” spat Arcturus. “I have plans of my own.”
“I thought you said you hadn’t decided on what you wanted to do.”
“Well, I have.”
When Arcturus didn’t continue Angus sat back. “Are you going to keep us all in suspense?”
“You’ll find out,” said Arcturus, and Angus hadn’t liked the sound of that one bit. After Arcturus’s stunt at Graduation Day, Angus knew his son’s mind could work in the most devious ways.
Arcturus had excused himself from breakfast at that point, and only Dorothy’s spilling her cereal over the table had prevented Angus from going after him and demanding to know what was going on.
Angus pushed thoughts of Arcturus from his mind as Katherine gave his hand a squeeze.
He turned to her and kissed her cheek, and the crowd went wild.
They walked along Senators’ Parade, the shimmering whiteness of the Forum drawing them ever onward. A tall figure in a red toga stood at the top of the steps and Angus smiled as he recognized Lennox Craven, the senior consul of the Senate and the man who would formally welcome him.
“This must be killing him,” said Angus. “Having to welcome me in personally.”
Katherine didn’t need to ask who he meant, and smiled back. “I’m sure it is, but I can’t say I have any sympathy for him.”
Angus heard the steel in her voice, knowing that Katherine believed with utter certainty that Craven had dispatched the men who had come to kill them in the summer villa. She was probably right, but without concrete proof, there could be no public accusations.
“I’m going to enjoy watching that bastard squirm,” said Angus.
“Careful, dear,” cautioned Katherine, waving to the crowd. “There are a dozen holocams on you, and it would be bad form if someone lip-read that from you.”
“Very true,” said Angus. “As always, you are the soothing wind to my raging storm.”
“Such is my role.” She smiled. “But just make sure you do make the bastard squirm.”
* * *
Lennox Craven was not a man given to public displays of emotion, but as he watched Angus Mengsk march toward him with barely disguised relish, it was all he could do to keep the anger from his face.
Dressed in a red toga identical to Mengsk’s, Craven knew he was nowhere near as imposing or impressive a figure as his nemesis, but then, he had never set out to make himself a self-styled man of the people.
He knew for a fact that Mengsk’s public face was as manufactured as that of any of the dozens of vacuous actors and actresses that UNN’s celebrity channel broadcast day and night. Mengsk might pretend to be the champion of the common man, speaking out against the perceived injustices of the Confederacy, but hadn’t he in fact benefited massively from all the Council of Tarsonis had done?
Wasn’t Mengsk a wealthy man thanks to the very apparatus he so gleefully attacked with his speeches in the Forum and his incessant interviews on UNN? No, Lennox Craven knew the true face of Angus Mengsk, which made it all the more galling that he had to stand here as though they were the greatest of friends.
It made him want to throw up.
Even with bribes and calling in the many favors he was owed, he had not been able to prevent Angus from winning the hearts and minds of the people and the right to speak at the Close of Session. The Council had been most insistent: Angus Mengsk must be silenced. If one of the Confederate’s most treasured and pampered worlds was seen to turn against them, then it would only be a matter of time before others attempted to follow its example.
And that could not be allowed to happen.
His paymasters were demanding results, and Lennox Craven had singularly failed to deliver them.
Thousands upon thousands of people lined the streets, and Craven could not remember a time when such numbers had come out to watch a senator march to the Forum. He remembered the year he had been chosen to make the Close of Session speech, and his bitterness at the apathy the people had displayed threatened to choke him in the face of Angus’s popularity.
He drew himself up to his full height as Angus and his wife reached the bottom of the wide steps that climbed to the columned portico and the great black doors, beyond which lay the grand debating chamber.
Angus turned to give another wave to the cheering crowds, raising both arms above his head and accepting their adulation. He then turned and, taking his wife by the hand, began his ascent of the steps.
Craven could see the relish in Mengsk’s eyes and prayed the man would stumble and fall flat on his face—anything to puncture the pompous arrogance that surrounded him. But Angus reached the top of the steps without mishap, and Craven fixed a practiced smile across his features and assumed the dignified mien of a seasoned senator who was about to welcome one of his dearest friends.
“Angus Mengsk, you’ve brought quite a crowd with you,” he said by way of greeting. “And Katherine, you look radiant. A pleasure to see you, as always.”
Mengsk’s wife curtsied graciously and said, “Thank you, Lennox.”
Angus Mengsk came forward with his arms open, and Craven’s smile faltered.
Dear God, was the man expecting an embrace?
The crowds roared, and Craven knew he would have to play along with this charade of friendship. He opened his arms as Mengsk swept him up in a crushing bear hug, then awkwardly patted Mengsk’s back in a suitably brotherly fashion, hoping that this would suffice.
“I know it was you who sent those men to kill me,” whispered Mengsk. “I just wanted you to know that before I destroy you in there.”
Craven stiffened, but before he could reply, Mengsk released him and made his way to the great doors of the Forum. Katherine Mengsk swept past Craven, locking her eyes with his as she went to join her husband. Though she said nothing, her cold gaze pinned him like a butterfly on a collector’s wall.
Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Lennox Craven turned and followed Angus Mengsk into the Forum, already dreading what the damnable man was going to say in his speech.
* * *
The interior of the Palatine Forum was no less magnificent than the exterior, the floor of the vestibule fashioned from great slabs of black marble veined with gold and its columns fluted and rising to dizzying heights. The alabaster walls were painted with great murals depicting the pioneers of Korhal’s heroic past: revered senators, intrepid space-farers, great architects, military commanders, and far-seeing philosophers.
Angus and Katherine crossed the vestibule and approached the bronze doors of the great chamber of the Forum, behind which could be heard the animated buzz of voices.
Lennox Craven caught up to them, but Angus did not deign to glance in his direction.
Katherine squeezed his hand. Once again, Angus was thankful for her steadying presence.
She turned to him and said, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” said Angus without hesitation.
Katherine smiled and made her way to a door at the side of the vestibule, which Angus knew led up to the viewing gallery. Tradition demanded that only senators enter the main chamber through this door, so Katherine would need to view proceedings from above, with the rest of the families and invited guests.
He waited for a few minutes—pointedly ignoring Lennox Craven—until he was sure Katherine would have reached her allocated seat. Then he approached the door.
It swung open smoothly, and Angus felt his heart race as he saw the assembled senators and dignitaries awaiting his arrival.
Yes, he thought, this is my moment. …
* * *
“There’s your mother now,” said Ailin Pasteur, and Arcturus turned to see Katherine Mengsk threading her way through the assorted family members gathered in the viewing gallery. She saw him sitting there, her eyes bright at this unexpected pleasure, and Arcturus felt a genuine moment of regret at what he was about to do to her.
Juliana sat behind her father, full of nervous excitement at the thought of seeing Angus Mengsk give the Close of Session speech in the Korhal Forum. In the time since graduation, she had spent a great deal of time with Arcturus, though thanks to the constant presence of a chaperone he had not had a chance to take her to his bed.
Instead, they had spent most of their time in closely supervised walks through Styrling, and though he never tired of filling her head with his grandiose dreams of the future, he had begun to tire of her company.
Not that that would be a problem soon, he thought, picturing the sheaf of papers nestling in his coat pocket. Only Juliana knew what he planned, but he knew she would say nothing.
His mother smiled as she negotiated her way toward their little group, obviously pleased to see him there. She smiled at people she passed, and Arcturus could see the genuine affection in which his mother was held. In addition to being the glamorous wife of a senator, Katherine Mengsk was a patron of numerous charities and spoke out on many issues that affected people from every strata of society.
She had been the first to address the subject of child trafficking between worlds, had opened people’s eyes to the plight of the homeless in Styrling, and had set up numerous health organizations to aid the many victims of war. His mother offered kind words to everyone she passed, and watching her easy smile and natural grace made Arcturus realize why she was so beloved by the people of Korhal.
At last his mother reached them, and Arcturus shifted up on the wooden bench to allow her to sit next to him. She leaned over and kissed his cheek.
“I’m so glad you came, Arcturus,” she said, her smile warm and genuine.
“So am I,” said Arcturus.
She directed her attention to the Pasteurs and said, “Ailin, it’s wonderful to see you here. And Juliana, Angus will be so pleased you came to see him deliver his speech.”
Juliana smiled shyly at Katherine, and Arcturus could see she was a little in awe of his mother. “Thank you, Mrs. Mengsk.”
“Call me Katherine, dear, please.” She smiled, patting Arcturus’s knee. “You’re practically family now.”
Ailin Pasteur returned Arcturus’s mother’s smile and said, “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Katherine. People are going to remember this day for a long time to come.”
“I have no doubt of that,” said Katherine, beaming as the master of ceremonies rapped his bronze-tipped staff on the tiled floor of the Senate floor.
The senators below stood a little taller and everyone in the gallery leaned forward as the bronze doors opened and Angus Mengsk made his entrance.
* * *
Angus raised his arms in triumph as he stepped into the vast domed chamber of the Senate, recognizing that this was a symbolic as well as a literal crossing of a threshold. Like the most alluring woman, the Palatine Forum saved its most majestic treasures for last and, as always, Angus felt a deep sense of pride, awe, and reverence for what this chamber represented.
Democracy, free will, and freedom from oppression.
The central floor was paved with panels of opus sectile, in which porphyry and serpentine figured prominently. To either side were three broad, low, marble-faced steps, and on the level nearest the floor sat the more notable senators upon their curule chairs.
The two top steps were broader than the others, and upon them stood hundreds of richly dressed men and women, the entire body of the Korhal Senate and assorted dignitaries granted special leave to attend the Close of Session.
Gray marble wainscoting ran along each wall, finished with a molding above which marble panels were rhythmically placed with only the interruption of three statue-filled niches to break the pattern. As the wall rose toward the dome, it was faced with tall gray rectangular panels with golden lettering: the constitutional tenets set down by Korhal’s earliest settlers and the principles by which its people were to be governed.
The dome itself was made up of heavily gilded lacunaria consisting of square coffers set with golden discs at their centers. Just below the dome was the viewing gallery, where those important enough to be allowed into the Palatine Forum yet not of sufficient stature to set foot in the main chamber could be seated.
Ailin Pasteur watched from here, as did Katherine, proudly awaiting Angus’s arrival. He resisted the urge to wave to her. Looking farther along, he was surprised and pleased to see Arcturus next to her.
Katherine had probably emotionally blackmailed their son to get him here, he figured. Briefly he wondered why Katherine hadn’t told him that Arcturus was going to be here, but put the thought from his mind. Where Arcturus was concerned, Angus would take what he could get.
He looked up into the dome as thunderous applause swelled from the assembled senators, and let the moment stretch as he reveled in the acclaim of his peers. When he judged the moment right, he slowly lowered his eyes to the Confederate flag hung opposite the entrance, below which sat the senior consul’s plinth.
It was from this plinth that Angus would deliver his speech, and he marched across the floor of the Senate chamber toward it. With applause still ringing in his ears, he stepped up onto the plinth and stared up at the red and blue of the flag.
His scathing look made no secret of his loathing for all it represented.
Greed, corruption, and moral stagnation.
With one swift movement, he reached up and ripped it down.
The cheers of the assembled senators doubled in volume.
* * *
Arcturus watched the faces of the people below in the Senate hall and gathered around him in the gallery as they clapped and cheered. He was amazed they could be so enamored of his father. Could they not see him for what he was—an ordinary, stubborn man who didn’t know how to listen? In that moment, a realization crystallized in Arcturus.
