And then… what did she have to go home to? Nothing, but disgrace; she would spend the rest of her days as a lotus eater, nothing more. No hope of a future, no hope of rising high, no hope of using her intelligence to carve out a place for her. She would become a laughing stock, like so many others. The Thousand Families stood together against the outside world — that was a lesson they had learned a long time ago, during the rise of the Second Emperor — but they were merciless to failures from their own ranks.
“I do not know,” she admitted, finally. Part of her was tempted to ask if she couldn’t just disappear into the Beyond and try to forget where she came from. The rest was uncertain. “What do you want from me anyway?”
Cordova smiled. “I think that I have a friend who would like to meet you,” he said. He held out a hand — in the formal style of the High City, much to her surprise — and pulled her to her feet. “Come on.”
Hannelore had grown up in the High City, where the younger members of the Thousand Families had access to all kinds of cosmetic surgery and body-sculpting technology. She had been surrounded by girls who changed their faces and bodies regularly to follow fashion — large breasts had been pushed out by small tight breasts, only to be replaced in their turn by medium breasts; albino skin had been supplemented by dark chocolate skin, then an unholy green skin that had their elders chattering in horror — and had grown used to physical beauty. The boys hadn’t been much better. They’d spent weeks in the shops, having their muscles enhanced until they all looked as if they’d spent years building up their physical strength. Most of them hadn’t known how to maintain their muscles and had ended up returning to the shops time and time again, just to have them rebuilt.
Hester Hyman was striking, mainly because she chose to wear her scars. Her face had been pretty once — even though it had probably had the hard-worn features that most commoners displayed — but now it was marred by scars, including one that looked as if it was going to spilt open at any time. Her hair, shading to white, was tied up in a severe bun; she wore nothing, but a simple combat mesh. Hannelore had wondered if it was a form of reverse vanity, before she realised just how many enemies Hester would have gunning for her. She seemed to be unarmed, but Hannelore suspected that she carried at least one weapon, perhaps more. And then she was surrounded by a set of hulking bodyguards…
“Welcome to our lair,” Hester said. Her voice was deathly cold, the result — Hannelore realised suddenly — of torture at the hands of Imperial Intelligence. Hester’s throat was scarred too, as if someone had tried to cut her throat and hadn’t quite succeeded. It was all part of the effect and even though Hannelore was smart enough to realise it, she found herself impressed. Hester was the strongest woman she had ever met. “I trust that it meets with your approval?”
Hannelore didn’t know what to say. “It’s been interesting,” she admitted, finally. She had never imagined that she would be making small talk with Hester Hyman, a woman who had a colossal price on her head. “I rather enjoyed it.”
“Good,” Hester said. The time for small talk was clearly over. “The Popular Front needs you. Would you be interested in joining us?”
Hannelore blinked. “You want me to join a rebellion against the Empire?”
“A project to reform the Empire,” Hester said, her wintery voice admitting nothing else. “I have been speaking to your crew while you were being shown around our asteroid base. They were very complementary about you. They felt that you had definite promise. Our ally felt the same way.”
Hannelore stared at her. “You had a rebel spy in my complex?”
“Something like that,” Hester said, vaguely. She waved a hand, indicating that there would be no further discussion about any intelligence agents. “The fact remains that you won respect from people who had no reason to respect you. We could find a place for you in the Popular Front.”
“Committing treason,” Hannelore said. It surprised her how little the concept bothered her. She had no reason to be loyal to anyone outside her own family… and really, her two families had regarded her as more of an unwanted nuisance than anything else. After all, she was a living reminder of a failed policy. “What would you want me to do?”
“We need someone to assist us in coordinating the industrial project,” Hester said, calmly. “You have experience in handling such matters. You would be working with several different factions, all of which suspect that the other factions intend to secretly screw them when they get the chance. And, if we fail to build a fleet that can stand up to the Empire, we will be destroyed when the Empire finally responds to us. We cannot count on Admiral Percival’s replacement sharing his same level of incompetence.”
She smiled, as if at a joke that wasn’t really funny. “I had to urge people not to try to assassinate him,” she added. “He serves us better where he is.”
Hannelore chuckled. She had only met Admiral Percival once and she hadn’t been impressed. “I see,” she said. “Why do you want me for the job?”
Surprisingly, the answer came from behind her. “Because we will need to break up the alliances that hold the Thousand Families together,” a woman’s voice said. “If we put a person from the Families in a high position, it sends a signal to the others that there is a possible compromise, that we won’t kill them all when we win.”
Hannelore turned. She hadn’t even sensed the woman behind her until she had started to speak. The woman was tall, with long red hair, a heart-shaped face and a smile that seemed to light up the room. She wore a standard shipsuit, one that clung to her body and exposed every curve. Behind her, there was a smaller oriental girl, with dark eyes that seemed to be focused on Hannelore’s face.
“This is Daria, the leader of the Freebooters League, and Mariko,” Cordova explained, calmly.
“You may have some time to decide,” Hester said. Her whispery voice drew Hannelore’s attention back to her. “Once you have made up your mind, you can inform the good Captain of your decision.”
“One question, them,” Hannelore asked. “What happens if I say no?”
“We have a small isolated colony world that we have been using as a prison,” Daria explained. “If you refuse, we’ll leave you there until the war is won or lost. It is a great deal more civilised than a penal colony, but you won’t be able to affect the war in any way.”
Including betraying the rebel leadership to the Empire, Hannelore realised.
She thought about it as Cordova escorted her back to his quarters and explained that he’d had a second bed put in for her personally. Unlike many of the lads from the High City, he hadn’t even tried to take her to bed. Hannelore wasn’t sure if he was just being polite, or if he had no interest in her at all, or… she pushed that thought aside and considered the rebel offer. If she said yes, the Empire would condemn her as a traitor and her family would disinherit her…
And then there was the other question; were the rebels sincere when they offered her the post, or did they just want her to be window-dressing?
She looked over at Cordova, who was reading something on a datapad. Somehow, she found it hard to believe that he was lying to her, or perhaps she didn’t want to believe it. It could be just Stockholm Syndrome kicking in…