Chương 32: New Toledo

New Toledo, Vidako Imperium Stellarum October 4, 2847 Once the Saker was down at New Toledo airport, Arc was consigned to the cabin of the VTOL with Lieutenant Patel, while Cassie and Jessica carried their bags into the cockpit and firmly closed the door behind them.

It was, Arc decided a moment later, a lucky thing that at least one of the pilots had been a man, because it meant there was someone to help him get dressed, and he'd never actually worn his dress whites before, only been measured for a fitting once by Manuel. Then again, he wouldn't have put it past the commandant to have set things up that way on purpose.

While the daily uniform of a cadet was gray, and the day-to-day dress of a naval officer blue, on formal occasions both wore naval whites, a tradition that dated back centuries. Manuel had worked wonders, and Arc had the rather bizarre revelation that he'd never worn a single set of clothing that was properly fitted in his entire life, until now. As a fourth-class cadet, the only mark of his rank was a single, upward pointed chevron in gold, on the upper sleeve at either side.

Once Arc had the trousers, polished dress shoes, shirt and tunic on, he was grateful to set the cap on his head, because it would conceal the still-red marks of his surgery, and the delicate, silvery metal tracings of the neural lace. He took a deep breath and turned toward Lieutenant Patel.

"How does it look?" he asked.

"Am I wearing it right?" Patel grunted, stepped close, and took Arc's tunic in both hands, giving it a little tug before nodding.

"It's not off the rack, and that's something," he said.

"Good job having someone tailor it for you. The last thing you want is to look sloppy when you get in front of the cameras." Arc winced.

"How bad do you think it'll be?"

"Well, we got a good view coming down," the co-pilot admitted.

"Looks like the duke's people and the local police have set up barricades and kept the media-types back a good distance, but there's definitely a crowd. I bet you'll see the flashes go off as soon as we open the doors." He must have noticed some sign of Arc's nerves in his face, because Patel gave him a slap on the back.

"You'll be fine. They aren't here for you—they're here for her. You just get to be a piece of arm candy for the evening. But hey, I bet your name is all over the planetary net tomorrow!"

"You're not making me feel any better," Arc grumbled. At the sound of the door to the cockpit opening, they both turned, but it was only Jessica coming out in an Imperial Guard's uniform: nearly entirely black, with only traces of white, and not a single insignia of rank to be seen. She did have a simple earbud with an attached microphone, which made Arc wonder whether there might not be a better setup now that she had neural lace.

It also occurred to him that she might be the first royal guard serving on a personal security detail who did.

"She'll be out in a moment," Jessica announced, brusquely, and then continued on by to the door.

"Open this up, lieutenant. I have drones to launch." While she lifted a hard-shelled briefcase, Patel leapt to do as she asked. As soon as the cabin was exposed to the outside air, the scents of the city and the airport rushed in: oil, hot tarmac, the rubber of wheels. And beyond that, like a sort of grime that couldn't ever be entirely scrubbed away, the smell of the jungle.

"Stay inside until I signal you," Jessica called back over her shoulder, and stepped out of the door. Arc saw that someone had maneuvered a set of small, rolling stairs right up to the Saker, so that they wouldn't need to climb down awkwardly. Imperial Guard Morrow has initiated a request for a group chat, Iceni told him, a moment later. So far as I can tell it will include only you, her, and Cassie.

"Accept it," Arc murmured, which got him only a brief look from Lieutenant Patel for his trouble.

"Mech pilots," Patel said, and shook his head with a grin.

"Always mumbling to yourselves and looking distracted. What's it like having a machine in your head all the time?"

"Kinda of like having an imaginary friend," Arc said, after thinking for a moment.

"You know, like a little kid does?"

"I don't think I could do it," Patel admitted, and gave an exaggerated shudder.

"Too much like those freaks in the Singularity." He hesitated a moment and seemed to realize how what he'd said might be taken.

"Not that I'm calling you or the princess a freak. I mean—someone has to do it. Credit to you for being willing to let them cut your skull open, I guess." If the man hadn't thoroughly outranked Arc, he might have told him to quit while he was ahead. Thankfully, they were saved from any further awkwardness by Jessica reporting in. JM: I'm assured by the locals that our perimeter is secure, though I'd prefer to have a full team of guards here.

I've scanned every rooftop and window within a kilometer, and I don't see any sign of snipers. Drones are flying an overwatch pattern. I think we can move you over to the car as soon as you're ready, Your Imperial Highness. The sooner the better. I don't like staying here on the tarmac. CS: Out in a moment. The door to the cockpit opened, and Arc turned, expecting to see Cassie. Instead, a woman wearing full lieutenant bars, who must have been the pilot, slipped out into the cabin and flashed Arc a grin.

"We'll have all the bags packed up and sent over to the palace," she said, "so don't worry about leaving any of your things behind." Then, she dropped her voice to a whisper: "You're in for a treat, kid." Arc opened his mouth to reply, but wasn't entirely certain what to say to that, so he simply closed it again. When Cassie came out a moment later, he understood exactly what the pilot had meant.

He'd seen the dress a week before, of course, when Cassie had tried it on for the first time in San Teodoro; and then, when Manuel had scurried around her with a measuring tape, needles, and a bit of chalk just before the sky had opened up during their walk back. Whatever the tailor had done wasn't obvious, but somehow the blue and white silk seemed to have been transformed. It no longer simply looked good; it looked incredible.

Weeks of marching through the jungle, shouldering rifles on the firing range, and even shoveling food into their mouths at the dining hall had given Arc a certain image of Cassie in his mind. She wasn't large—just a bit shorter than he was—but she was tough. Unlike Arc, she'd resolved to make it to the academy years before actually arriving, and she'd always been in good shape. But until just that moment, he wouldn't ever have thought to associate the word 'elegant' with her. That was a mistake.

Cassie in makeup, a fitted silk evening dress, and a black wig with bangs, no longer looked like an academy cadet who'd had to use the same latrine ditches as anyone else. She was, for the first time since Arc had met her, every centimeter a princess imperial. No one said a word as she walked over. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

"Put your right arm out," Cassie told him, and Arc obeyed without a second thought.

"Just make certain that's there for me whenever we're walking anywhere together," she told him, looping her own arm through his. He noticed that she was just a bit taller than he was used to, and that when their gazes met, they saw each other eye to eye.

"Good. Remember to smile," she added.

"Other than that, you don't have to do anything—just let me answer any questions. And try to look happy to be here."

"I don't have to fake that," Arc said, before he could think better of it, and thought that he saw a flush of pink in her cheeks as they stepped over to the door. The moment they walked out into the stairs, the tarmac became an absolute madhouse. If Arc hadn't been right there in the middle of it, he wouldn't have believed it, and he didn't think that he'd ever have the words to adequately describe the feeling to Pika, Vee, and Rain, if they ever asked.

A corridor had been cleared, directly from the Saker to a black armored grav-car that hung, waiting for them, less than thirty yards away above the pavement, protected by a double line of uniformed men and women. The inner of the two lines, which faced Arc and Cassie at attention as they descended the stairs to where Jessica was waiting, wore military tunics cut of deep, vibrant red cloth over black trousers—not fleet, Arc recognized at once, which meant that they had to be the Ducal Guard.

On Zurah, Arc had seen the duke's guard in their dress uniforms out on parade during the annual Silk Festival every year of his life. Their colors were a deep, dark purple, almost black, the same shade as the mulberries themselves, which were ubiquitous around the city. It was one of the rights the constitution gave to planetary dukes: to field up to a single battalion, of no more than five-hundred soldiers, under the command of the duke and at the expense of the imperial government.

When they weren't used to hunt pirates, quell riots, or guard a given duke and his family, they spent their time on display in situations such as this. The second line, which was facing outward, was local city police in riot gear, with helmets, batons, and shields.

They had no time to gawk as Cassie made it down to the tarmac, because it took all their efforts to hold back the surge of the assembled crowd, which gave off a great roar, closer to what Arc had heard come from the throat of a Vidakan spiked terror than from any individual human throat.

"The princess!"

"There she is!"

"Princess Cascada!" Lights flashed to either side, hundreds of them, as media photographers and regular citizens alike snapped pictures. With something of an internal cringe, Arc realized that even if he sent a video to his family on the very next outbound ship, there was no way he could possibly warn them ahead of what they were going to see in the news.

He could hardly see from blinking away the lights, so he just focused on walking straight ahead, past Jessica at the foot of the steps, who fell in behind them as they passed, and toward the waiting car. It was flanked by two lastgen mechs painted in the deep red of the duke's guard, with bright orange accents. They weren't quite obsolete, but they were at least twenty years old, and Arc wouldn't have wanted to take either up against one of the Imperium's current models.

On the left was an R-2 Skiritai, while on the right Arc identified an F-2 Tagma. The first was a scouting mech, the predecessor of the current Outrider, and Arc knew that it lacked the Adaptive Camouflage armor which made the newer models so difficult to get a visual fix on when they were in the field. The Tagma, on the other hand, was a frontal assault mech which had once filled the role of the Janissary.

The one in front of them was still heavily armed, though it lacked the plasma accelerator mounted to the shoulder which Integrated Magnetic Technologies had developed for the third-generation chassis. Still, either one of them was worth the entire deployment of police forces and ducal guard infantry combined, in the event that some sort of crisis actually occurred. And if there was to be a crisis, Arc realized, the most likely kind was an attempt on Cassie's life.

The thought made him agree with Jessica—another dozen imperial guards wouldn't be at all amiss. Cassie smiled and waved with such complete ease that someone who didn't know her might conclude that she hadn't given even a moment's thought to the danger. But Arc had spent the past two months getting to know her, and he recognized immediately that the woman he saw now was simply an act. One she'd been taught from a very young age, he didn't doubt, but an act just the same.

The girl who'd fallen asleep on his shoulder during the flight was the real one. As they reached the grav-car, one of the waiting officers stepped forward and snapped off a salute.

"Lieutenant Colonel Xaveria Marín," she introduced herself, and Arc saw that she was of middle age, with graying hair pulled back in a tight bun beneath her dress cap.

"It is a pleasure to welcome you to New Toledo, Your Imperial Highness. We'll be escorting you through the city to the Palacio de las Orquídeas." Iceni? Arc asked. The palace of orchids, his AI responded, without hesitation. Something of a local tourist attraction, in fact. The current duke's grandfather began the initial construction, though it wasn't completed during his lifetime.

In addition to the extensive gardens, the stoneworks are inspired by ancient arabesque geometric patterns intended to evoke floral themes – That will be enough, thank you, Arc told her, while Cassie finished shaking hands and exchanging greetings with Lieutenant Colonel Marín. Just in time, too, as the older woman immediately turned to him and extended her hand.

"I'm told you have a talent for tactics and wargames," Marín said, her face fixed in a polite smile.

"Won the emperor's tournament to secure your admission." Arc wasn't naive enough to think there was anything more to that than a quick search of the planetary net—the manner by which he'd gained admittance to the academy was public record.

"Thank you, sir," he said, accepting her hand.

"I suppose we'll find out whether Professor DeVault agrees." With that barest of polite acknowledgements, Marín turned back to Cassie.

"If you'll enter the car, Your Imperial Highness, we can get this underway and get you over to the palace."

"Of course." Cassie's arm slipped away from Arc's, though she kept her hand on his forearm, as if to aid her in the process of getting in through the open door. Arc followed her, taking a seat on the same padded bench where she'd scooted over to the far side of the car, where he removed his cap and set it in his lap. As soon as Jessica had slipped in, she pulled the door closed, cutting off some of the noise from the crowd.

The windows had appeared darkly tinted from the outside, but Arc could see out of them clearly, to where the Skiritai turned and took point at the head of a quickly forming procession of vehicles.

"You did good," Cassie assured him, with a pat on his arm. Jessica Morrow's eyes remained cold, however, and Arc thought it was more out of judgement—even disdain—than professionalism. The Skiritai led them through the city, away from the airport and onto a central boulevard which took them beneath towers of glittering glass. The restaurants and shops to either side appeared, to Arc's limited judgement, to be both fashionable and expensive, and crowds lined the sidewalks. They waved, and shouted, and held up signs.

Most were some variation of a welcome, but a few stuck out to Arc.

"Make art, not bombs?" he read aloud.

"Justice for New Toledo? Pinnacle must move?"

"The local drama," Cassie said, with a sigh.

"Every system, every world, has got something going on, Arc. Most of it, we leave to the planetary authorities. But ever since we funded an imperial academy here, there's been a certain portion of the population that's had a bug up their –" Jessica coughed.

"You need to swap back to talking like a princess, not a soldier." Cassie rolled her eyes.

"There is lingering resentment that the world's only orbital elevator goes to San Teodoro, rather than the capital. It's ridiculous, of course—we paid to build the thing, and we did it to service the academy. If we hadn't done that, they wouldn't be able to afford an elevator at all, and they'd be stuck using shuttles down to a spaceport. And it isn't like my father has forbidden them from building another one—Montalban can do it whenever he wants, if he can clear enough jungle."

"And if he can fund it," Arc guessed.

"Right. Which he can't, which is why this is a thing. He thinks that he can pressure us into paying for a second elevator, even though New Toledo isn't on the equator," Cassie finished.

"From the look of those signs, I'd guess he's made certain to stir up sentiment just in time for our visit. And that means that we are definitely going to have to listen to him talk about it tonight."

"And you have to deal with something like this everywhere you go?" Arc asked her.

"Something," Cassie confirmed.

"Not exactly like this. But yes, there's always going to be something they want from us. Never mind the fact that I can't make my father do anything he doesn't choose to do. Which is why I went into the academy in the first place—to get away from all of this." She waved her hand in a sort of circle to indicate everything: the crowds, the procession, all the attendant madness which apparently made up the life of a princess imperial. All Arc could do was to reach out and take her hand.

"There isn't anything in the entire galaxy that could make me stand for election," Cassie said, after a moment of silence.

"I'm glad my brother's older than me. I don't want any of it. By the way," she said, turning to Arc and forcing a grin.

"You're my shield tonight. I know the duke has a few children, and nieces and nephews as well. If he tries to thrust any eligible bachelors in my direction, I fully intend to hide behind you." Arc couldn't help but laugh.

"That's funny," he said.

"I can hardly imagine you hiding from anything."