Chapter 76: Honors

“Mrs. Hughes,” President Ferrill said quietly, never turning her head and keeping her lips tight. “I'm glad you could join us.”

Awfully subdued today, Madame President, Ellie thought – and wanted to say. Ferrill spoke to her almost in a whisper now that they were in public. Where was her emancipatory spirit when cameras and political opponents could record it?

Ellie supposed antagonizing or embarrassing the president would only make things worse. Ferrill had extended an invitation, even if for appearances sake Ellie had to play the servant's part in order to accept it.

Accept, Ellie had.

She wasn't sure why she wanted to sit in this dark green chamber on Etemenos's second ring, a massive auditorium compared to anything but the Senate Chamber and tournament grounds in the world-city's core. She was sure she did, though.

She wanted to believe it was to support Marcel Avalon, who had been her son's friend and was hers now.

But she probably just wanted to confirm for herself the hypocrisy of the Federal Senate.

Ellie sat in the row behind Ferrill, half-hidden from the view of the auditorium below. An aide who looked as military as their Federal Navy-blazoned surroundings shared the row, stony-faced and silent. The three of them were alone in the presidential box. Perhaps the 'aide' was really a bodyguard in case Ellie tried to carry out the threats she'd made on Chloe's behalf.

Ellie winced at the memory.

Oh, Ferrill probably deserved those threats.

They certainly couldn't help Chloe's case, though.

Ferrill turned to her aide and said, “I must confess, I'm somewhat surprised you agreed to join me.”

It took Ellie a moment to realize the president was talking to her.

She understood the ruse. It was just another step in the same process that had her hiding in the shadows and pretending not to be a guest. President Ferrill could be seen to address a hybrid, obliquely and occasionally. She could not be seen to have a conversation with one.

“I owe Admiral Avalon that much,” Ellie said.

“Marcel is putting you up at his quarters, yes?”

“Yes,” Ellie said.

“Good. He hardly gets any use of the place. No doubt you've brightened it up.”

Ellie stared at the back of the president's head. “Did you ask me here for girl talk, Madame President?”

“As amusing as that would be, no.” Ferrill chuckled. “I'm sorry. You probably don't want to exchange pleasantries with me after our last conversation.”

“Your intention to see my husband dead does not endear you to me,” Ellie said. “Excuse me. Your law's intention.”

Ferrill's chuckle died. “Mock me freely, Mrs. Hughes, but the law not at all. Otherwise, this invitation will be rescinded.”

Since Ellie did feel she owed Avalon her presence, she swallowed her thoughts on the law the president seemed to love above all else. She directed her attention to the platform below, where the bright lights seemed to wash out the dark green.

Avalon stood at the center of the platform in his dress uniform, ceremonial sword at his waist, medals covering his chest. He had been standing at attention for a good fifteen minutes while his subordinates and colleagues praised his honor, his skill and his victories. His superiors were in no position to do so; he'd had only two within the military hierarchy of the Federal Navy, and both had preceded him in this chamber.

Marcel Avalon was about to retire.

Whether he liked it or not.

Most of the men standing on that podium praising Avalon to the skies were the same ones who had followed him loyally and well for years. Until Otto Algreil accused him of being a hybrid. For that crime, they would cast him out. For their reputations, they would hide even the accusation.

Ellie could have strangled the lot of them.

Finally, the seemingly endless parade of Fed mechaneers and captains put the lie to what it seemed.

Animus Hunter Errard Zelph, Grand Admiral Errard Zelph, took the podium.

Ellie could see the muscles in the back of Ferrill's neck tighten. Zelph's ascension seemed to presage her eclipse, and while Ellie wasn't exactly a fan of the present president, she couldn't imagine the Animus Hunter's faction in the senate would improve things for anyone she cared about.

Zelph had actually relinquished his seemingly ever-present armor for this event. He wore a dress uniform that looked like a black version of Avalon's dark green one. The filigree on his shoulders and coat was more elaborate, but he wore no medals except for one small pin, a Federal Orobouros over a simple five-pointed starburst. The symbol of the Animus Hunter Corps.

“I'm surprised he doesn't have a medal for every half-powerless noble he dragged to your justice,” Ellie said.

“He would not have enough room on his uniform,” Ferrill said, so flatly Ellie couldn't decide if she meant it seriously or as a deadpan joke.

After a moment, Ferrill continued, answering Ellie's unspoken question. “I have never objected to Errard Zelph's competence. His character is the point of contention. Now, please, let's listen. I need to hear what he intends to say.”

Ellie remained silent, though she disliked taking the politely-worded order almost as much as she disliked the prospect of hearing Zelph's droning voice for any length of time.

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“Ladies and gentlemen of the Federal Senate and Federal Navy,” Zelph said. “It is my great pleasure to commend Admiral Marcel Avalon on the sterling service he has provided us over the years.”

Of course it's your pleasure, Ellie thought, since you're presiding over getting him out of your way.

“I'm sure most of you here have borne witness to at least one of the admiral's feats. It is not without reason that he was the youngest ever to reach captaincy and flag rank in the Federal Navy. Every one of his promotions marked one of his singular achievements.” Zelph raised his eyes and his mirthless smile to President Ferrill's box.

Reminding everyone what a fast track Avalon had been on, and to whom he was family in all but name.

Ferrill leaned back and folded her hands in her lap. If Ellie hadn't seen her neck tensing even more, she never would have known the president had deigned to notice Zelph's gaze.

“Now,” Zelph said, “we gather for an occasion equal parts joyous and sorrowful. Admiral Avalon, who has achieved so much in so little time, has decided to take his services to the private sector and retire younger than any flag officer in our history.”

“He makes it sound like Marcel is running away from his duties,” Ellie hissed.

“This was not what we agreed,” Ferrill said, her voice almost as much a harsh whisper as Ellie's. “This is –”

“Admiral Avalon?” Zelph motioned Avalon to join him on the podium. His voice sounded as warm as Ellie had ever heard it, which put it just above room temperature.

Avalon shot a glance to Ferrill's box, but, frowning deeply, he obeyed his Grand Admiral's summons.

“This is too soon,” Ferrill said. “It may not have been –”

Ellie grasped her arm and whispered, “Been what?”

But the president genuinely was ignoring her. The silent aide turned a baleful glare her way, but didn't rise.

Ellie shook Ferrill's shoulder. “Madame President, what's going on?”

Zelph's voice interrupted whatever response the president intended. “I must congratulate you, Admiral,” he said.

“I do not understand, Grand Admiral,” Avalon said.

“You will be a very wealthy man on the payroll of the United Shipping Magnate,” Zelph said. “As they were present for your most spectacular victory, it's hardly surprising. Still, I'm sure most of your colleagues envy you the chance. Particularly now, with Mrs. Marchess-Algreil soon to be Miss Marchess once again, yes?”

Avalon started. “I'm sure there has been some mistake.”

“The only mistake,” said a new voice, “was in the order in which the good news was conveyed.”

Ellie forced herself to lean forward to see the speaker, pointedly ignoring the president sitting stiffly beside her.

He was a balding, gangly man in a gray and green pinstriped suit that would have been stylish on Otto Algreil but made Georg Marchess look downright skeletal. He had an infuriating smirk that could have been the twin of Algreil's, though. Maybe oligarchs were issued them when they took over their companies. The young woman behind him was clearly of the same stock, rail-thin and stripe-suited and with the same mousy brown hair, albeit a great deal more of it. Her attempt at a smile looked ready to flee at the first opportunity. So did she.

Ellie recognized them both from the broadcasts following Avalon's “victory.” Georg Marchess, Oligarch of the United Shipping Magnate, and his daughter, Alarie. Otto Algreil's wife, who betrayed his rebellion.

Alarie approached the podium and bowed to Avalon.

Stiffly, he returned the gesture. “Mrs. Algreil,” he said.

She studied her feet. “Technically.”

Somehow, Ellie couldn't picture this slight girl even standing in the same room as the cocky, cruel oligarch who was – technically, as she put it – still her husband. Even though the Marchesses' betrayal had put Jack in his present fix, Ellie couldn't help but wince sympathetically when she thought of the hell Alarie had probably gone through.

“May I ask what you are doing here, Mrs. Algreil?” Avalon's melodious voice seemed to put Alarie at ease, and she released a breath that, with her suit's communications suite apparently hooked in to the chamber's speakers, was audible even at the presidential box. Gently, Avalon added, “This is a government function, one I was given to understood enjoyed a measure of privacy.”

“Alarie,” Georg said, “run on up and tell the man what we're here for.”

“Of course, Father.” Alarie looked up with a nervous smile. “As Animus Hunter Zelph says, Admiral Avalon, my father – and I, of course – were very impressed with your handling of the battle at Algreil Prime. We would, um, like you to – well, we'd like to hire you, sir. Since you're retiring, yes?”

Zelph scowled, and Georg Marchess didn't seem much happier; Ellie gathered Alarie had been supposed to act like Avalon had already agreed. Or perhaps she'd just annoyed them by forgetting Zelph's new title.

“My apologies, Admiral,” Zelph said, “it seems my congratulations were premature. Of course, I'm sure you'll accept?”

Avalon drew back. “It is... quite overwhelming, Grand Admiral, Mrs. Algreil, Mr. Marchess.”

“Undoubtedly,” Georg Marchess said. “Well, Zelph, Alarie, there's no need to rush the man. Carry on with your ceremony and I'm sure he'll come round once he's had a chance to think of the benefits.”

“I certainly hope you'll do that, Admiral,” Alarie said. “And – so sorry for the mistiming of all this. It's very embarrassing. We're normally much more precise, though you see how much help we'll need, yes?”

Avalon started to respond, but Zelph held up his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Marchess. Mrs. Algreil.” When the Animus Hunter used that appellation, Alarie shrank back as if to hide behind Avalon or her father. Which, Ellie had to admit, was an understandable reaction to Errard Zelph. “I'm sure you've given Admiral Avalon much to think on. Unfortunate that you did not think to do so before you embarrassed him here.”

Alarie hung her head.

Avalon stepped between she and Zelph, and Ellie realized what was happening.

Alarie Marchess-Algreil might actually be a nervous, skittish little thing – though Ellie suspected an oligarch's daughter, not to mention Otto Algreil's wife, would have developed a thicker skin –, but her father and Zelph, at the very least, were running a con.

To perfection.

“It is a simple misunderstanding, Grand Admiral,” Avalon said. “I am unembarrassed.”

“Very well, Admiral,” Zelph said. He sounded like he was suppressing a sigh. Of satisfaction, Ellie thought, though he wanted the assembled naval men to think it was of exasperation. “Perhaps you serve them already, whether you know it or not.”

Avalon frowned. He realized what was afoot as well – but Ellie knew it was not his nature to bend even if standing straight threatened to break him. “I merely ask you be polite to the young lady. She will soon lose her husband and ill-needs any further grief.”

Zelph smiled mirthlessly. “Your concern is very... noble, Admiral.”

Beside Ellie, President Ferrill whispered, “Well played.” Her voice was hoarse. If Ellie hadn't been sitting next to her, she'd have thought the president had just finished a speech rather than sitting silently and watching.

“I see what they're doing,” Ellie said. “But why?”

“Marcel is very popular with his colleagues,” Ferrill said. “Some few resent his meteoric rise, and no doubt many were shaken by Algreil's words. Nonetheless, he would retain influence in the Federal Navy.”

“Especially in contrast to an Animus Hunter?”

Ferrill nodded.

“So this whole 'ceremony' was to discredit Marcel even more.” Ellie didn't bother making it a question. “And by extension, erode your power base.”

“More like, 'call my judgment into question,'” Ferrill said. “How ironic. The members of the senate who are hand in glove with the Marchesses will attempt to pin that role on me, instead. I will be presented as a tool of their ambitions.”

“Instead of using them as tools of yours, Ma'am?”

Ferrill closed her eyes; a faint smile crossed her face. “Who is using whom in this affair, Ellie Hughes, remains contested.”