Originator (61 page)

Sandy smiled. “You're not my oppressor. My kids aren't. Vanessa isn't. People are individuals, not groups. We either live together as such, or we abandon any hope of civilisation.”

“You could have used synth-tee cooperation to force synthetic emancipation in the League.”

“And League would have resisted even more strongly and fought back, and a lot more people would be dead, synthetic and organic. Look at it now—the battle's a long way from won, but League owe me. They owe all us synthetics, big time. We'll translate that into political power, you watch, and when all the new GIs keeping the peace over there in the next ten years begin to come of age psychologically . . . it'll change. One way or the other, it'll change. I think the League leaders are starting to know it, too. We'll make it come faster if we can convince them that emancipation can be peaceful and not another bloody war.”

A blare of trumpets out the front, and some fireworks popping and echoing off towers near and far. “I think this means the groom has arrived,” said Ibrahim, getting slowly to his feet. He gave Sandy a hand up, despite the silliness of expecting she'd need it. Sandy smiled and accepted.

“I suppose we must,” she sighed. “I'm not sure I see the attraction, to be honest. But Ami's an odd girl and she deserves to be happy.”

“I give it five years at most,” Ibrahim said drily, and Sandy laughed. “Vijay is a very egotistical man and Ami will tire of him eventually. But Radha disagrees. He is very good to her and the children, I must admit.”

“Grumpy grandpa doesn't want to see his little girl get hitched,” said Sandy, taking his arm. “Shall we?”

“Oh, and Cassandra,” Ibrahim added as they walked arm in arm toward the house, “speaking of grumpy grandpas, I don't want to be the one to put limits on the new freedoms our female GIs are discovering so joyously . . . but do you think at future events you might encourage them to put on just a
few
more clothes? It's a wedding, not a brothel.”

Out the front, crowds of guests had gathered at the end of the big driveway
through the gardens and trees. The groom's procession wound its way in from the road, leaving behind swarms of media and cameras that had followed it this far. Guards kept them out while admitting proper guests, with some confusion as to who was what, while the rest danced and beat drums and blew trumpets, an entire marching band keeping up a hammering rhythm, while others shot firecrackers skywards and hover drones recorded the whole thing for posterity.

Vijay Kulkarni rode a white horse above them all, decked in gold and red, with a gold turban. Word was he'd wanted an elephant, but Tanushan officials had only grudgingly allowed them to close down several streets for the procession and were
not
in a mood to grant permissions for an elephant, even if the zoo could spare a trained one. He rode proudly, waving to everyone above a sea of dancing, garland presenting, and petal throwing. . . . Sandy supposed there was a lot of custom to it all, but it just looked like confusion to her. But a fun confusion, the kind she'd always enjoyed.

She found the kids, Kiril on Danya's back so he could see over the crowds, and Svetlana jumped on hers, and they watched the arrival together, manoeuvring onto the grass at one side for more space and a better view. Amidst the trees something made her turn her head . . . and she saw a dark figure nearby, alone and watching. Familiar.

Sandy put Svetlana down and walked across. The woman wore sensible salwar kameez, nothing fancy, with a fashionable little hat with a veil that came down across her eyes. But before she reached her, Sandy knew who it was.

“Jane?”

“Hey, sis,” said Jane. “Nice party?” She looked awkward in these civvie clothes.
Feminine
clothes, for the first time since Sandy had known her. It wasn't her style. To be loud, to be seen. To be companionable. She had the weight of a new, legal morality hanging above her head like an axe prepared to drop and didn't feel like company at the best of times . . . yet here she was. God knew how she'd gotten in.

“It is what you make of it,” said Sandy with a smile. “The groom's an ass, and there's too much work and politics . . . but my friends and family are here. All of them, now.”

Jane smiled back, a little awkwardly. “The food any good?”

“You see what this costs? It's
amazing
.”

Jane took a deep breath. “Guess it couldn't hurt. For a while at least.”

“Auntie Jane!” yelled Kiril and came running to hug her. Then Svetlana, then Danya, progressively more restrained but no less heartfelt. Jane picked up Kiril and put an arm around Svetlana, and they all walked together back into the colourful crowd.

  
© Impact Image, South Australia

Joel Shepherd is the author of five previous novels in the Cassandra Kresnov series—
Crossover, Breakaway, Killswitch, 23 Years on Fire
, and
Operation Shield
—and four previous novels in the Trial of Blood and Steel series—
Sasha, Petrodor, Tracato
, and
Haven
. He is currently midway through a doctoral program in International Relations, and has also studied film and television, interned on Capitol Hill in Washington, and traveled widely in Asia.

Follow Joel on Facebook at
www.facebook.com/joelshepherdauthor
and Twitter
@ShepJoel.