Erik shook his head. How was he supposed to turn these people against the Capellans in any way? It was madness, and he had no one to blame but himself. He should have left as soon as he’d seen the Duke’s real intentions regarding this mission. All he wanted to salvage from this now was Elsa, and he couldn’t see how that would be possible.

One night. How can one night change so much?

He dropped Kinston near Senator Prescott’s office, where he announced he planned to spend the afternoon reviewing a land-use bill with a top aide.

Erik arrived at the restaurant early. With a few whispered words to the maître d’ and the exchange of a hundred-C bill, he arranged to change their table to an intimate private dining room in the back. He ordered a bottle of wine, and was already sipping when she arrived.

He stood as she was escorted in. She took his hands and leaned forward to kiss him passionately. She put her arms around his neck and he held her close, smelling her perfume, enjoying the moment despite himself, knowing it could be the last time.

They sat, and she studied his face, seeming to sense something was amiss.

He poured her a glass of wine. She took a deep drink. “Erik, what’s wrong? Is it last night? Are you having regrets?”

He put his hand over hers. “No. It’s not that. Last night was—Last night was something I’ll always cherish.” He licked his lips. “I—I heard some things about you today.”

She smiled nervously, eyes wide, head shaking. “What?”

He took a deep breath. Out with it. “Are you a spy for the Capellans?”

“Who told you that?”

“Never mind that. It’s true, isn’t it?”

“I’m not a spy, Erik. It’s not like that at all.”

He stared straight into her eyes, offering no comfort. This was hurting him more than he could have imagined. “What is it like, then?”

She hung her head. Took another big drink of wine. Silence. She tipped the glass back and drained it. “Erik, you know what it’s like to depend on others for everything you have, everything you are. I was Daddy’s little girl, and Daddy was a rich and powerful man. He sent me here because they have one of the finest art schools in The Republic, and I loved it so much. That was all I wanted. To paint.” She looked away at nothing. “To paint.”

“What happened?”

Her eyes were moist. “I’d been here six months when they sent word. There’d been a scandal at the mining company, and my father was dead. They said it was suicide. I never believed it. Everything we had was tied up with courts, lawyers, and accountants. The rest of the family disowned mother and me—took control of what was left of the business.” She chewed her lip. “I think they were behind it somehow.” She looked at him, her eyes full of shame. “I know. How could people in a family do such things to one another?”

His resolve was melting. “I know all too well.”

“I was all alone here. Mother was having enough trouble taking care of herself. I had tuition bills, and not even enough money for passage home. But Daddy had friends, business contacts in the Capellan Confederation. They came to me with an offer of help for Mother and me. All they wanted was for me to go to some parties, talk with people, let them know what I heard.” She smiled through tears. “I’m not a spy. It’s just been fun. It’s no more than a game, really.”

“Was I part of your game?” He recalled his initial suspicions and chided himself for not listening to them.

“No! I mean…” She looked away. “It was no coincidence that I ran into you the other day. They told me you’d be here—that they would be very grateful for anything I could tell them about the Duke’s intentions and your mission here. But that’s all. A chance meeting, and the rest just happened.” She looked at him. “Erik, I’m not a prostitute! How could you think that? I go to parties. I flirt, I talk. Men like me, and I like them back. But that’s all. I don’t sleep with people for information.”

He drained his own glass, poured another. “I want to believe you.”

“What was between us was real, Erik. Please believe me. It still is.”

“This changes everything,” he said.

She hung her head. “I know. I’m sorry, Erik. I can’t help what I am, any more than you can. People like us, we’re never really free. We’re always beholden to someone.”

The words were especially bitter, because they were true. Yet what could he do? Uncle Aaron, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, the Capellan spy. There would always be lingering doubts.

The Sandovals didn’t even trust each other. There was certainly no reason to trust an outsider, a spy, a Cappie.

Part of him wanted to stay in the trap, to let the accord run its long and unnatural course, while he spent his nights in Elsa’s arms. But it would only be prolonging the agony.

He was trying to think of something to say, when there was a rumble like thunder, and the room trembled. They both looked around.

Elsa looked at him. “What was that?”

Another rumble, louder this time. Then another sound—a siren of some sort. Though he’d never heard it, he thought he knew what it was. He grabbed Elsa by the hand and pulled her up and out of the room. “We have to get somewhere safe.”

The main dining room was in chaos—people scrambling out the door without paying, the staff in confusion. Through the row of windows across the front they could see people running down the street in both directions.

“I don’t understand,” said Elsa. “What’s happening?”

There was a flash in the sky outside, followed moments later by the sound of an explosion.

“My God,” she said. “It can’t be.”

He looked at her. “The Cappies really didn’t tell you, did they? Didn’t warn you?”

She shook her head.

“War,” he said, “has come to Shensi.” Another explosion, and the floor shook. “These are the people you’re working for,” he said.

She seemed genuinely surprised. He felt sorry for her.

A louder explosion, frighteningly close. Then the whole front of the restaurant seemed to light up, and the noise hit them like an invisible hammer, as every window in the building shattered.

La Cuisine Traditionnelle

Whitehorse, Shensi

Prefecture V, The Republic

21 November 3134

Erik peered out from behind the table he’d overturned as a shield. Through the broken windows he could see people screaming, running—some of them covered with blood. He knelt down to check on Elsa, who cowered next to him—scratches on her face, a cut on her right cheek. “Are you all right?”

She stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, as though he were speaking some alien language. Then it finally seemed to register. “I’m fine.” She laughed nervously, almost hysterically. “No, I’m not fine. But I don’t think I’m hurt.” She brushed the hair out of her face, and was shocked to see blood on her hand.

He took her hand in his. “It’s just a scratch. Listen to me. Listen carefully. Unless you seriously believe your friends know not to drop a missile on your head, you have to get off-planet. Now. There will be a rush on the spaceport as foreigners try to leave, but you can find passage on a ship before it’s too late.”