“I can’t just rewrite it and take it back to the Governor and Legate directly?”

“Again, Commander, that isn’t how things are done. If they then took action on the proposal, it would offend most of the Parliament and cause them no end of political difficulty. If a proposal doesn’t create immediate consensus between them, then it must go through the Parliament.”

“And if they’re split again?”

He shrugged. “We repeat the process.

“That isn’t unusual. A few years ago I worked on the Mogot slurry pipeline proposal, which made the circuit eleven times.”

“And it passed then?”

He looked sheepish. “Well, no, it didn’t, which I’m now convinced is a good thing. Stupid idea, that pipeline.”

“Has anyone ever told you that your system of government is insane?”

He displayed a pleasantly professional smile. “Your uncle, the Duke, actually.”

Erik frowned. “You know my uncle?”

Kinston looked confused. “Why, yes. It was his company that proposed the pipeline. We talked many times before the HPG network failed, and he actually visited once. I assumed that’s why the Governor chose me to send you to.”

“I imagine it probably was, but I had no idea.”

“Well, that is surprising.”

“Then my uncle has intimate knowledge about how your political system works. Or, from our perspective, how it doesn’t.”

Kinston smiled nervously. “I can’t imagine he’s forgotten it. He bent my ear over it more than once, I can tell you!”

Erik crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. What had the Duke been thinking? This wasn’t a negotiation, it was political flypaper. The war could be a decade over before he worked his way through this mess.

Was that the idea? Had Aaron simply sent him here to keep him out of the way? Or had he given Erik what he knew was a particularly difficult assignment as a way of testing him, or as an indication of trust? If he legitimately wanted Erik to succeed, why not at least provide him with some useful intelligence on the situation? Why not send him to Kinston or some other facilitator straight away?

Either way, Erik found himself determined to succeed. He would show his uncle what stuff he was made of—that he could be resourceful and cunning on his own. “Very well, Kinston, how can we make this happen? Not ten cycles through the process, but this time?”

“That’s the spirit, Commander! You can’t beat the system. You must join it. That’s what consensus is all about!” He shuffled through papers on his desk, and picked up a computer pad to examine a calendar. He looked back to Erik. “You could just sit back and let me do what you’re hiring me to do, but I wouldn’t recommend it. You need to make your presence known—mingle with the people in power.”

He flipped the pages of a large schedule book that teetered on a corner of the desk. “There’s a party tonight at Senator Prescott’s estate. All the power players will be there.”

“Including you?”

He smiled. “Why, naturally. I’ll introduce you to some of the key people. Some of them you’ve already met, but in such informal surroundings—well, let’s just say it makes a difference.”

Erik was underwhelmed with the prospect. If he hadn’t been so determined to return with an accord he could rub his uncle’s nose in, he would have refused. He liked to party as much as the next person, but he preferred the raucous celebrations of MechWarriors. Stuffy political gatherings were poison—in the bland and “consensual” environment of Shensi, they sounded even worse.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he lied.

“Good, then. I assume you have appropriate attire?”

“I brought my formal uniforms, if that’s what you mean.”

“A nice civilian suit would be less confrontational.”

“I’ll wear my uniform.”

“Very well, then. You may already have received an invitation. It’s hard to imagine that such an illustrious visitor would have been overlooked.”

“It’s possible. I’ve gotten a large number of social invitations since my arrival. My assistant has been handling them.”

“Have them forwarded to me. I’ll let you know which ones are worth attending. As for tonight, I’ll make a call and ensure that you’re on the guest list.

“There is one other matter: Shall I arrange an escort for you?”

“Escort?”

“Yes—a social companion for the evening.” He saw the look on Erik’s face. “Oh, really, Commander! It’s simply a matter of appearances. It’s easier to make a grand entrance with a lovely woman on your arm. I have a list of women with social ambitions—actresses and models, all women of some breeding and sophistication—who would be happy to accompany a young man such as yourself to an event such as this. It would simply be a matter of convenience for both of you.”

Erik frowned. “It wouldn’t be convenient for me,” he said coldly.

“Well, then. If you change your mind, I’ll see what I can do on such short notice. In any case, I’ll make sure the invitation includes a guest. Just in case.”

He left the office feeling dejected and humiliated. It seemed his uncle had sent him on a fool’s errand after all. Despite his determination, his chances of salvaging the situation—at least in time to do any good against House Liao—seemed remote.

He exited the building to find his hired limousine waiting for him. It was a beautiful day, and the park spread before him—a vista of rolling green lawns, playfully arranged hedges and shimmering ponds.

He could see the tower of his hotel on the far side.

He leaned inside the car just long enough to tell the driver he’d be walking back to the hotel. The sun was warm on his face, and the beds of purple and yellow flowers were sweetly fragrant. He took off his uniform jacket, hung it from his index finger, and tossed it over his shoulder.

The brick-paved street was closed to most vehicular traffic. Only trolleys, buses, and a few cars with special VIP permits were allowed, and therefore he crossed freely in mid-block. A low stone wall surrounded the park; Erik headed for the nearest gate, a few dozen meters to the south.

He heard the sound of high heels clicking on the brick behind him, heard their rhythm shift from a fast walk to a run. Something about the urgency in those footsteps gave him pause. He was already about to turn when a voice called his name.

“Commander Sandoval?”

He turned and looked down into perhaps the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen. The woman standing there was tall, graceful, and athletic, yet softly round in the right places. Her long skirt was slit high up one side to display a tantalizing flash of leg, and her wraparound top was simple and elegant, fastened with a large silver pin.

She was tanned, a few freckles displayed unashamedly on her cheeks; her nose was small and upturned, her lips full, glossy, and the color of pink rose petals. Her hair was long and chestnut-colored, held back with a blue headband. When she smiled, as she was doing now, her eyes sparkled, and as she came close to him, he smelled cinnamon and vanilla.

In spite of his natural suspicion, he found himself smiling at her, and admiring the way the sunlight glinted off her hair. “Excuse me, have we met?”

“Not really, Commander, though I’ve seen you before. At the Governor’s Palace a few days ago.” She put out her hand and he took it. Her fingers were long and soft against his battle-roughened skin. “My name is Elsa—Elsa Harrad. I was having lunch with one of the senior staff, and I saw you going into a meeting. As I recall, you looked unhappy.”

“That could describe most every meeting I’ve had here. I wish I’d noticed you. I’m almost certain it would have made my disposition a little brighter.”

She beamed, and he found himself enjoying it. A lot.

“You flatter me, Commander. Though I did find myself wondering why such a handsome man wasted himself on unhappiness, and what I could do to change that.”