Free The Saga of Seven Suns: Veiled Alliances by Kevin J. Anderson Page A

Designate, and that is the totality of my identity. But, I am also called Rekar’h. You may use that, if it seems less formal to you.”
    “Rekar’h it is, then.”
    In small crystal glasses the Designate had poured a violet beverage. He did not tell her its name, but as soon as he took a sip, encouraging her, Chrysta drank as well. The liquid tasted sweet and spicy at the same time, heady . . . probably intoxicating.
    She touched her glass against his. “This is called a toast, a celebration of friends meeting. Perhaps we’ll become better friends.”
    He took another sip of his drink. “Our goals would appear to be similar, Chrysta. I feel there will be a bond between our two races, your settlement and ours, humans and Ildirans forming a tapestry that benefits both.”
    Chrysta knew that the Burton ’s crew still carried raw wounds. Although they were relieved to have reached the end of their marathon, she needed to establish enough clout that no volatile group could ever overthrow her again. She’d been through one close call, and she still didn’t trust some of the mutineers. She had to ensure that she kept her authority, and she had to move quickly.
    She leaned forward, took a chance. “A close alliance with you, Rekar’h—a very close alliance—would help me a great deal. It would also make our new town strong and stable, and my leadership unquestioned.”
    His brow furrowed, wrinkling the circle tattoo. “Is there cause for concern?”
    “Before the Ildiran warliners found the Burton , we had some . . . tense moments onboard. I would rather not revisit them.”
    “Indeed.” He led her out on the open balcony of his residence. The night air was clear and fresh, although the bright blazers drowned out any stars overhead. She could hear the eerie, ratcheting whistles of Dobro night insects.
    “For myself,” the Designate ventured, “a union with the Burton ’s captain would demonstrate to the Mage-Imperator and all other Ildirans that we have established a profitable and permanent venture.”
    She stepped closer, faced him, and took another sip of the delicious violet beverage. Later, she could blame the intoxicating effects of the strange alien drink, but that would be a flimsy excuse. “A union . . . you mean like a marriage?”
    “Is that how you define it?”
    She leaned even closer. “Of course, it would be a marriage of formality, only.”
    He whispered against her face, “Yes . . . a simple bureaucratic alliance.” He touched his glass to hers imitating the toast. “To friends becoming closer friends.”
    She folded her fingers into his, holding his hand. “Let me show you how it’s done, Rekar’h,” she said. “There’s much more to it than that.”

2254 A.D.

    12
    MADELEINE ROBINSON
    With a last name like Robinson, Madeleine figured it was inevitable that she and her two sons would go exploring “desert islands” in space.
    In the four years since Adar Bali’nh had delivered complete plans and specifications for the Ildiran stardrive, Hansa shipyards and factories had engaged in an unprecedented construction effort, building Earth trade and exploration vessels that could fly out among the stars.
    And that was just the start.
    Despite the emphatic shipbuilding mandate, however, Earth’s new starships would not be completed for years. In a special arrangement, the Ildiran Solar Navy had recently offered to deliver as many as fifty human exploration teams to various empty planets in the Ildiran databases. The volunteers could scout the virgin worlds for a month or two, then be retrieved and brought back home.
    The Hansa encouraged ambitious scouts to sign up, offering generous “survey bonuses” provided they returned to Earth with detailed reports of an unclaimed planet. Every day now, shuttles and supply ships rose from the Palace District spaceport, ferrying hopeful explorers up to the Ildiran warliners that would take them to far-away worlds.
    Some people were suspicious,