GROUND / CH. 27: TREE

SVETLANA'S HOME, 9AM

“What are you looking at, Svetlana? I thought you'd read that letter at least a dozen times by now.”

“Do you recognise this seal, Mum?”

“Not specifically, no.”

“But?”

“Who has a seal, daughter? Barons don't normally. Counts don't normally, either. Who'd be able to convince a special courier to deliver a letter at gone midnight?”

“I don't know, mummy,” Svetlana said.

“Well, let me teach you a bit of basic heraldry, then. This of course is the imperial dragon. There's a surprise, he's got his authority from the Tsar, then there's these three coats of arms. Almost certainly the major baronies or counties in his domain. That crown, that's a ducal crown. So, the guy you told you never wanted to see again is a duke. That rod there, I'm not sure. It could mean a descendent of a Tsar or Tsarina, past or present. But the thing is, while this is a ducal seal, and it's his, it might not be a current ducal seal. An extra layer of precaution, you see? The precautions about photography tells us he's got royal connections anyway, as do the fact that he grew up pulling Anastasia's hair. Ditto, of course, the fact that he's not writing anyone's name except yours and his alias: he can't risk committing an official secret to paper.”

“So you're not going to guess.”

“Svetlana the Great had an elder brother and about nine cousins, some of whom must have had grand-children or great-grand children your age. Tsareovich Tibor is your age, as are Tsarevna Olga's twins. But there are other dukes, other people who have ties to the crown. And perhaps I'm wrong about the rod, and it's something else, in which case we're potentially into family of husband or wives. There used to be thirty-five dukedoms, if I remember correctly, but the number varies. No, I'm not going to guess. If you want to know, go and watch him cut up the wood. I don't recommend you take your rock-cutter or your knife on your first visit to the palace. Security would get very nervous.”

“He was in Atlantis last summer,” Svetlana said.

“And?”

“It doesn't prove anything, does it?”

“No. Lots of tourists, official visitors and so on.”

“I think I'm going to go help him cut wood this morning. I'm not going to be thinking about revision, am I?”

“You don't think it would be more fun to drive him crazy by standing within reach but untouchable because he's all sweaty and you're wearing your ball-gown?” her father asked.

“No, daddy. I want to be able to pin him to the ground and force him to admit he plans to propose to me sometime soon.”

“What if he doesn't?”

“Then I want to know why he felt he needed to swear an oath about talking to his parents.”

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PALACE GATE, 11AM

“Name?” the bored sentry asked the young woman wearing jeans and a tee-shirt. He guessed she was visiting one of the palace servants. He didn't bother getting up.

“Svetlana Borisova, I'm told I'm half-expected.”

“Who by?” he asked, checking her I.D. and looking at the relevant list.

“Good question. My boyfriend, who's been dating me for the last eight months using an alias. Hopefully he's going to tell me who he really is soon.”

“What's the alias?”

“Timor Yureivich”

“Not on the list. No admission without prior approval. Either you're in the wrong place or he didn't expect you.”

“He wrote last night, said he's be helping the gardeners with some dead wood, and this seal would at least get someone to fetch him.”

The guard took one look at the seal and snapped to attention, and Svetlana was amazed at his change of attitude. “Very sorry my lady, I was checking entirely the wrong list. You are most certainly expected.” Turning to one of the soldiers, he ordered “Attention! V.V.I.P visitor, as forewarned. Escort her to her friend with all due deference.”

“This way, please,” the soldier said, ushering her towards a horse-drawn buggy.

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NORTHERN PALACE GARDENS, ST PETERSBURG

“I guess I should have come in my ball-gown,” Svetlana said, as Tibor helped her get down from the buggy.

“One of the rules, don't keep horse-drawn vehicles around if you're not going to use them. Plus, of course, no motor vehicles on the grass.”

“What's that then?” Svetlana asked, nodding towards a tractor he'd been helping to load.

“Sorry, let me rephrase — no motorised passenger vehicles on the grass. No problem at the gate?”

“Not once the guard looked at the right list, which happened half a second after I showed him the seal. I suddenly got promoted to a very very important person, apparently.”

“Well I think so, and my parent's don't disagree with me. Shall we walk?”

“Is this my cue to wondering aloud if I'm going to find out who you really are.”

“I promise you will by the end of today. But do you want to scream and shout at me a bit first? I don't want titles to go making you feel all inhibited.”

“Mummy interpreted your crest and said you're some kind of duke, and the photography thing meant royal connections.”

“So you're going to be on your best behaviour anyway?”

“I've got a check-list of things I want to do. And Tsarevna Anastasia told me I needed to get you to tell me about deleting a picture.”

“She told me too. Dad, however, says you're a sensible girl with Yelena Petrichna's wrist unit, which would give anyone breaking into it a nasty surprise, and you took the photo a month ago, so what exactly are we worried about?”

“Your father knew about me?”

“Apparently so. Mummy did too. Apparently you got checked up on about a year before I made my mind up to ask you out.”

“And you know about my great-grandmother's wrist unit?”

“It gets mentioned in some of the family legends, yes. Recognising prince Rudolph's face, that sort of thing.”

“Hmm. It doesn't do that these days. No access to the relevant databases, not that that would have stopped great-grandma. I guess I'm a bit more conservative than she was.”

“You mean you'd like to be granted official access, or are you saying you'd like permission before you break in?”

“Timor, not that that's your name... there are laws against breaking into government databases.”

“There is, I'm told, a deliberate loophole.”

“A deliberate loophole?”

“Apply the following law to your great-grandmother: A person found to have broken into a government database who is not listed as a registered member of the Secret Services shall be liable .... etcetera etcetera.”

“It doesn't say that, stop teasing.”

“It does say that, feel free to look it up and whisper it around in the right circles. There are, of course, strict penalties for registered members of the Secret Services who misuse their position, access, and authority.”

“Are you offering me a job?”

“No, I'm indicating one particular career path that might be available to graduates in microelectronics and computer security. There are plenty of others, of course. And if I chose to take that path, then I'd apply in the normal manner. I'm just ... I don't know what I'm doing, actually. I don't want you to think that if you do decide to dump me properly, then you're never going to be able to get a job, or something silly like that.”

“You're being very confusing, Timor.”

“Tibor.”

“Pardon?”

“My name's Tibor, Svetlana. As in Anastasia's annoying little brother.”

“So my handsome prince is actually my handsome prince,” Svetlana said.

“Say that in Mer, and you'll make me a very happy man. But I think I ought to wait until I've spoken to your father before asking you how seriously you meant that possessive, and what you think of the idea of becoming my beautiful princess.”

“Oooh... how long do you think that's going to take you?”

“I did promise to help with these trees.”

“And promises are important. So I was thinking I'd help. And I was also thinking you might be all mucky and I might like a kiss or two, hence no ball-gown.”

He took her hands and asked, “You really think I ought to kiss you in front of everyone?”

“Everyone is a bit of an overstatement,” there were three gardeners, valiantly trying to look like they were working and not get spotted glancing to see if the prince was going to kiss the young woman, and if so for how long. Unfortunately, one of the ones glancing was also using a chain saw, and cut much to deeply for the undercut he should have been making.

Also, their walk had taken them into an area Tibor had just marked off by cones.

“Look out!” the foreman called, uselessly, as the dead tree started to topple over, directly towards where Svetlana and Tibor had walked. It had once been a mighty oak, hundreds of years old, and for all it's crown had been trimmed, there was no way, Svetlana realised, they could get out of the way before its branches reached them. She took decisive action, and wrapped her arms around Tibor. As she did so, she pressed an extra button on her wrist-unit that she'd added the previous summer in Atlantis. The smashing branches of the ancient tree pummelled the forcefield, and their ears were buffeted by the sound. They were, however, entirely not crushed. The downside was that the field, anchored to her wrist unit, transferred a fraction of the forces to her.

“Ow. That's definitely a design flaw.”

“What just happened? Other than us surviving a tree smashing itself on top of us?”

“Personal forcefield and maybe a broken arm. And the forcefield is pinned to the ground, so I know I'm pushing you over backwards, but please don't lean on my arm, I can't move, and it hurts.”

“You saved my life,” he said, adjusting his footing, pressing himself to her body, not her arm. “Better?”

“Yes, thanks. I was just thinking the chainsaw-guy was concentrating more on us than what he was doing.”

“How long will the forcefield stay on?”

“I don't know. A minute or two?”

“I love you, and I don't want to hurt your arm. Is there any way to untangle ourselves?”

“Maybe, if I can undo the strap on my wrist unit. Can I lean on you more?”

“Of course.”

“Hold me; I might pass out if it is a break.”

“Like this?” He put his arms around her waist.

“Very gentleman-like but assume my legs are going to give way, OK? Less decorum, more support. Testing your support three two one, much better. Keep on hugging. Owwwww.” She didn't faint, but she was glad of his support.

“You're free?”

“Yes, you can probably put me down now.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“You're not going to faint?”

“No. You don't faint at the sight of blood, do you?” The wrist unit had been twisted into her arm and its casing had cut the back of her wrist.

“Not so far. Oh, Svetlana!”

“Could have been much worse. No artery damage, no bones smashed, and my fingers even work. Ow. Mostly, anyway.”

“Is the forcefield just going to blink off, no warning?”

“Yes, sorry.”

He looked around at the debris and the branches resting on the forcefield, and the two-metre trunk above their heads. “If that one there holds, then the tree's going to try and turn that way.”

“And if it doesn't hold then the next one to hit the ground is on the same side, but the trunk is going to drop half a metre, right on top of us, and the

branches might sink into the ground. Lying down might be best.”

“Or turning off the forcefield and diving that way,” he suggested, pointing to where there was a gap.

“I don't really feel like diving, with my hand like this.”

“Do you feel like trusting me to, for both of us?”

“You just want the seize every opportunity to get more hugs.”

“Hugs are nice but I'm actually thinking I want us both to get to our wedding day without being crushed.”

“I like that idea too, Timor. Sorry, Tibor.”

“So, how do I turn off the force-field?”

“Three second press on the top edge.”

“And the edge of the forcefield is just here,” he said feeling. “OK. You hold on to me for grim death, and let me take your weight, and I'll hold on to you because you're the most precious and wonderful mermaid in the whole universe, here goes.”

There was a tiny amount of give in the forcefields invisibly holding the wrist unit in place, but he couldn't really brace himself against it much.

What he could do was use it to hold himself at the right angle to spring forwards. He pressed the button, and as soon as the unit moved, sprang away from the collapsing tree, holding his beloved tightly.

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NORTHERN PALACE GARDENS, ST PETERSBURG

Tibor groaned. His head seemed to be resting on something soft, but his body wasn't. One of his hands seemed trapped underneath him. He couldn't see anything. Was it night? He groped about with the other hand trying to make sense of what he felt of this strange bed. There was some grass, and then a kind of soft, yielding stuff, wrapped in fabric. He went a bit higher and touched skin. Was it really skin?

She giggled, “Hey, stop it! You had me worried there, Tibor, but stop exploring under my tee-shirt.”

“Svetlana?” he turned his head, breathed her hair, and saw her luminous eyes.

“What...? Oh. The tree.”

“Is now flat on the ground. So, on one hand, very good call to get out from under it, and you did a really good job of jumping clear, not to mention protecting me from the fall. On the other hand, landing on your unprotected head wasn't the most sensible move known to man.”

“How long was I out?”

“Hmm, long enough for me to shout to people that we were still alive, decidedly not crushed under anything, but you'd just bashed your head, though don't seem to have a cracked skull. Then your hand went exploring.”

“I was really confused, and couldn't make sense of anything. Why couldn't I see?”

“I was looking at the back of your head. Light doesn't get through knees very well. You've got a lovely big lump. If you feel like staying still, apparently they called the ambulance and the army too, probably, for heavy lifting gear. On the other hand, it looks to me like we might be able to crawl out.”

“I think let's see if I can move without throwing up. I couldn't last time.”

“Last time?”

“Last time I knocked myself out.”

“Does it happen very often?” Svetlana asked.

“I almost always manage to avoid it, actually.”

“I do not want to lose you, Tibor. Don't do it again.”

“I'll try not to,” he said, grinning up at her. “You look absolutely gorgeous from this angle. Can I have a kiss before we try to move?”

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THE PALACE, ST PETERSBURG, 6PM.

“You look beautiful,” Tibor greeted Svetlana, as Anastasia welcomed Mikhail and his parents to the palace.

“That's just the bump on your head. How is it?” Svetlana asked in reply.

“The doctor says I'm allowed to honour your ball gown with a slow waltz, but nothing more energetic, and I need to make sure I don't get at all dizzy.

How's your wrist?”

“One tendon got a partial cut.”

“Ouch.”

“I like painkillers. But on the other hand, one mermaid and one boyfriend didn't turn into jam, so fair exchange, I think. What's going to happen to chainsaw-guy?”

“Good question. It's complicated.”

“Dropping trees on royal blood presumably carries stiff penalties.”

“Yes. Except he was a trainee, and I put out those cones.”

“The ones the horse stopped beside?”

“Yes. And I got told on no account was I to let anyone go inside them, and I was so enjoying walking with you I didn't see them.”

“I just thought they meant don't let the horse go past here. Basically lovers shouldn't go walking near dangerous trees.”

“Exactly. And it was dangerous; that's why it was being felled. The trunk cracked because it was partially rotten. Can't really expect a trainee to know that.”

“And his supervisor?”

“Signalled him to stop, but the trainee didn't notice.”

“Distracted by us?”

“Yes.”

“So we're into the territory of he should have stopped, but it shouldn't have mattered as much as it did?”

“Using a dangerous tool without proper care.”

“That's going to be the charge?”

“That's one charge. Then we've got things ranging from 'recklessly endangering life' through to 'causing serious injury to a high noble', and if dad really threw the book at him, 'treasonable negligence'.”

Svetlana winced. “I hope your father's feeling forgiving. What do I get accused of for taking you into dangerous places?”

“I was leading the way, I knew what was happening, you didn't. So nothing on that front. But, urm... your wrist unit.”

“Is unregistered foreign technology?”

“Might be.”

“What does that mean?”

“Several options... Who put the modification in? I presume it's not original.”

“I did, last summer. I've got a cousin who's a fabricator and she let me do some stuff in her workshop.”

“Wow. Not the answer I was expecting at all. So you.. you actually understand how it all works?”

“Not the precise theory, no. I'm not a forcefield designer. But I understand enough to use her tools, her design computer, and so on. I swapped the battery for a little fusion generator and had space for what she called a mark-1 personal forcefield. We agreed that Yelena would have approved. There wasn't space for anything bigger, and I didn't want to expand the case or pay the royalty fees for a mark-2.”

“It's pure fusion, then? No antimatter?”

“Fusion and clever capacitors, but still a secret of the deep. Do I get it back some-time?”

“Oh, sorry, of course you do, blame my bang on the head,” he fished it out of his pocket and handed it to her.

“Thank you. I had visions of...”

“Of what, me handing it over to a bunch of top-secret imperial researchers? We're not China, Svetlana.”

“I know. I just thought, the temptation, you know...”

“The biggest temptation I feel right now is to ask my favourite genius a question before talking to your father.”

“You realise that's not part of Mer culture, don't you?”

“Yes, but it's part of mine. I hope you're not expecting us to marry at Mer speed. I think a bit of getting to know one another without secrets is a good idea.”

“I agree. Like me trusting you enough to tell you about all of Yelena's 'little toys' up in the attic, and not suspecting that you're going to break treaties just because temptation passes.”

“Treaties are very important. What toys? Family legend says she might have made herself a quantum decoder.”

“Tell you what, you go talk to Dad, and I'll talk to mum about when you can come and have a guided tour.”

“With you as my tour guide?”

“Grandad Yuri would have been better from a technical point of view; he helped her make some of them. But he told me all about them as I was growing up. Go on, talk to dad and stop keeping me waiting.”

Tibor sensibly followed that instruction.

“Your highness,” Boris gave a formal bow, “I'm pleased to see you up on your feet.”

“I am very sorry that I took Svetlana into the path of danger,” Tibor said, speaking in Mer.

“A shark, an unexpectedly strong current, a tree... what does not kill, teaches.”

“One thing I've learned is that it is better to be in good company when there's danger. I do not know what the future holds, where God might call me or if my father will direct me to some career, or if he will leave the choice to me. But I do know I would like Svetlana beside me.”

“And Svetlana does not object, I think,” Boris replied.

“I do not think so either. But there is a tradition that I must ask for your approval before I ask her to marry me, when we have had time to know each other more, and probably have some arguments too.”

“I understand that tradition. And I understand that your weddings are so complicated that arranging them takes a lot of time. Can you explain to me why, if you are not sure, you are willing to bind yourself by promises?”

“My heart tells me I am sure enough to bind myself to her by an oath. My head tells me I have kept many secrets from her, and I wish to give her time to change her mind as she comes to know me without that veil of secrecy. She likes mysteries, I think. I do not wish to bind her by oath if there is a chance she is in love with the mysteries that have surrounded me, rather than me myself. I would rather she break my heart than she take an oath she regrets before a wedding day we have vowed will come.”

“And so saying you, prove your love for her. I am satisfied, Tibor Valentina Kristof, by your words and actions, that you will protect and cherish Svetlana with your life, and have no objections to you telling her of what we spoke, of giving your oath or promise as she desires, and asking only her promise in return.”

“I thank you.”

“But allow her the certainty of accepting her oath if she offers, once you have explained yourself. She may speak words in anger she quickly regrets, but she does not often change her mind.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Five minutes later, Tibor found himself formally introducing Svetlana to his parents, rather than asking her to marry him.

“Tibor is decidedly reticent about what job he wants to do when he grows up,” the Tsar said. “Do you have any ideas about what you'd like to do? What's your ideal job?”

“Imperial Majesty, I am sufficiently Mer that my ideal job almost certainly has to allow time for swimming,” Svetlana said. “Otherwise... my unattainable dream used to be to follow my great-grandma Yelena's footsteps and be embassy-attached secret service, but I think that was probably based on too many happy stories and not enough reality.”

“And now?” asked the Tsarina.

“Last night, before I got Tibor's letter, I was wondering who I'd really been going out with and if the whole thing had just been part of his cover, and I was wondering if I might summon up the effrontery to ask his imperial Majesty if I could hide my tears and humiliation as assistant artificer and part-time ambassador on Ground. Since I'm pretty sure that Tibor's just convinced dad to let us make some promises to each other, that'll turn into vows, then I'd prefer to explain that crazy idea to him first.”

“So it's not the diplomatic nightmares but the reality of secret-service roles that you're not keen on?”

“I have far more than my fair share of ambassadors as grandparents and great-grandparents. I started taking courses in diplomacy, but spoke to the lecturer and persuaded him to let me take the final year exam at the end of my first year.”

“I didn't know that!” Tibor exclaimed.

“You were too busy discovering Countess Ludmilla Yurevna wasn't really a Christian.”

“Oh,” Tibor said, embarrassed, at that mistaken almost-romance.

“She fooled a number of us for a while, so I suppose you don't need to be too embarrassed “.

“I still don't understand what was going on in her mind,” Tibor said.

“I asked her,” Svetlana said. “Ludmilla said she really likes Christian music, and Christian attitudes to lots of things. But she wasn't prepared to let God be in charge, didn't think she needed to repent of anything, rejected the idea she'd done anything wrong. Felt it was very unfair that the Christian Union revoked her membership.”

“'Just' for lying about her faith?” Tibor said, “I guess she was a very happy 'cultural Christian' and now she's an annoyed atheist. I don't know which is a better starting point for her, spiritually.”

“At least she's not tempting people into oath-breaking,” the Tsarina said.

“Well done there, Svetlana. Oh, don't look so surprised. I've been re-reading some old reports, and the Secret Service do notice when the ethics of a countess are questioned.”

“I thought the Imperial Truthsayers were anonymous, your majesty.”

“They are. I was talking about you querying whether any action had been taken against her and handing that report to the C.U. committee.”

“Oh! Yes.”

“You reported her?” Tibor asked.

“I spoke to the Truthsayers, saying that she had signed a membership card of the Christian Union, but didn't seem to sing any lines about commitment to God. I stood next to her one meeting, it was really odd. 'As the dear pants for water, la la la, and then looking at boys when she got to the line about 'you are all I desire'.”

“Yes,” the Tsarina said, “Well, now it seems Ludmilla is getting what she desires, the silly girl. But your assessment, is that apart from the CU membership card which might have not been as unambiguous as hoped, she was careful not to actually promise anything to God?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Svetlana. That's helpful; we have1 laws about nobles breaking oaths, but don't have any banning them from acting in accordance to their lack of morals. So it looks like she's not put herself on the side of illegality, at least, not yet.”

“She's going to get a warning, then?”

“She does no honour to her position. I'm going to have to tell her that.”

“Would you like me to be there, mummy?” Tibor offered, “At least for part of it?”

“To make her think of how far she's fallen?”

“Yes.”

“I don't think it's necessary. I'll simply tell her the truth: if she'd been a Christian, there's a chance it might have been her you were getting everyone's permission to get engaged to, and then not asking for time to talk to your beloved alone.”

“Is that a hint?” Tibor asked.

“No, it's a commendation for your favourite mermaid for extreme patience. Go on, Tibor, go for a walk! Just make sure you stay away from falling trees, and don't bump your head on anything else.”

“I'll try to make sure he doesn't, your majesty.”

“I've been trying for the last twenty-two years. Maybe you'll have more success.”

“Mum, I'm twenty-three.”

“Yes, it was fairly easy to stop you ramming your head into things before you started crawling. Have you ever seen a baby in a crash-helmet, Svetlana? Maybe we shouldn't have gone to that extreme, he might be more aware that it hurts. But anyway, embarrassing photographs available on request.”

“Oh, far be it from me to embarrass my Tsar and Tsarina,” Svetlana said, with a straight face.

“Hey, what about me?”

“I reserve the right to embarrass you every time you damage your braincells, scalp, or any other bit of your anatomy for that matter.”

“Not publicly, I hope.”

“Of course not, Tibor.” she said. Then added with a playful smile, “Unless you've been really careless.”

“Beloved Svetlana, will you do me the honour of taking a little walk? I need to tell you what your father said.”

Watching her youngest son go, Tsarina Valentina turned to her husband, “Do you think he remembered the ring?”

“Probably. What do you think about her idea of going to the planet Ground?”

“Tibor didn't like the idea of Mars,” Valentina said.

“Tibor didn't like the idea of Martian girls deciding to take risks with his emotions, straight after experiencing roughly the same with Ludmilla. But I was thinking that the role such as ambassador's wife does fit what I've seen of Svetlana.”

“And you think Tibor as potential ambassador?”

“If there will be imperial princesses and ambassadors going to Ground, it would be fitting for there to be something between the size of the space-folding lab and the probe ships, don't you think?”

“You think perhaps Atlantis would finally allow us to have some forcefield-hulled ships?”

“No, but they might allow us some bubble drives to go on a ship we design, or perhaps just the latest generation of Celestia-class ships? It strikes me that an imperial fiancée who is also counted as mermaid and apprentice artificer brings the opportunity for even better relations with our underwater allies. If Tibor and Svetlana can negotiate that, they'll have done well indeed.”

“What would be the point though? Trade?”

“Your dress is beautiful, but no. I have different motives. One is moving water. You know the Boris drive cannot easily move a comet. Or rather, not without throwing itself in the other direction, but a Celestia with no cargo could do that. Quite easily, in fact. And if you could load a comet on board, it might even be able to bubble jump the comet to where it was needed! Then we wouldn't need all the infrastructure to play cosmic billiards, and if there was an emergency, a Celestia class vessel could stop playing cargo ship and get our precious eggs to safety.”

“You have been doing some thinking, I see, husband.”

“I have been thinking since I understood Rachel to say they were planning to have too many people there to evacuate without first destroying the medical facilities on the bubble lab. Your question helped me put all my thoughts in line. Actually, I think we should make more than just one. Allow for crew rotation and maintenance, and so on.”

“Let us hope Atlantis agree.”

“I think it would be good for Tibor and Svetlana to discuss things with Rachel first. If we convince her...”

“And through her, her mother's company?”

“I was thinking her fiancé's family.”

“Who are very pleased that Mick is not dead. Yes. So, shall we also float your excellent plan with Anastasia's conversation partners?”

“Let's wait until dessert is served,” the Tsar said.