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  Maybe even more. The Machinists had turned March into an Iron Hand. They had killed Adelaide’s husband and unborn child.

  But March was in an unaccustomed good mood, and hatred was the farthest thing from his mind. As far as he could tell, Adelaide was in a good mood as well. She was driving her car as he sat in the passenger seat, the sound system playing a rural Calaskaran song that had a man singing fondly about his farm, his dog, and his girlfriend (in that order). The song had a lot of guitars and drums, and Adelaide sang along as she drove, sometimes drumming her fingers against the steering wheel in time to the beat. March didn’t mind. It drowned out the hum of the car’s electric engine.

  As Adelaide drove, March looked out the window and watched the suburb of Keldrex roll by. It was one of the suburbs of Calaskar City itself, the governmental and administrative center of Calaskar, and Adelaide had lived here for years.

  It was so different than the place where March had grown up that he sometimes could not process it.

  Calaskar had its rich and poor, of course, with a class divide as wide as a solar system, and some lived in mansions while many more lived in small houses and apartments. Yet nowhere on the planet was the horrid, crushing poverty that had marked the Machinist labor camps on Calixtus. No one starved to death here, or died of malnutrition, or of diseases that could be cured with modern medical technology. The Ministry of Security and the Ministry of Information kept a watchful eye on the population, especially after the spike of Machinist-related terror incidents over the last twenty years, but there wasn’t anything like the pervasive surveillance of a dictatorship like Oradrea or the religious police of a Kezredite sultanate. Speaking of religion, the Calaskarans were devoted to the Royal Church in a way that a world like Mercator would find quaint and a world like Oradrea would find baffling. Criticizing the King in public was illegal, which hardly mattered since anyone criticizing the King in public would get beaten to a pulp and dumped on the steps of the nearest constabulary station. (Criticizing the Prime Minister and his or her government, however, seemed to be a national pastime.)

  March supposed that summed up the society of his adoptive homeworld. Formal, strict, conformist, parochial and self-satisfied, yes – but no one went hungry, there weren’t the crippling social problems of a government like the Renarchist Republic, and neither was there the iron brutality of a dictator like President Paul Murdan of Oradrea.

  And Calaskar had resisted the Final Consciousness for two centuries, longer than any other human government had done. That mattered to March more than anything else, which was why he was an Alpha Operative of the Silent Order.

  This was his adoptive home, but he would always be an outsider here. Perhaps not a pariah, but always an outsider. But that was all right. March would always be an outsider no matter where he went, and an outsider could sometimes defend a place in a way that a native could not.

  He looked at Adelaide as she sang, the reddish light of Calaskar’s sun glinting off her sunglasses.

  Even though Adelaide was a native of Calaskar, she was also an outsider, because Calaskaran society encouraged motherhood. Every church had its Mothers’ Association. Stores offered discounts for mothers based on the number of children they had. The Queen gave a monthly Address To Mothers. A Calaskaran man could only vote after he had completed his mandatory six-year term of military service, and a Calaskaran woman could only vote after having two or more children.

  Adelaide would never have children, not after the injuries she had sustained the Machinist bombing that had killed her husband and unborn child. Still, she had carved out her own niche, the professor and the writer and the popular historian. And she was a Beta Operative of the Silent Order, exposing and ruining Machinist collaborators.

  Because if the Final Consciousness was not stopped, it would enslave and ruin Calaskar as it had enslaved and ruined Calixtus and countless other worlds.

  The song ended, and Adelaide looked at him.

  “What are you thinking?” she said with a smile. “I can hear you thinking, you know.”

  Sometimes it seemed like she could. Certainly, she had a knack for guessing when his mood was starting to darken.

  “Societies,” said March.

  “Now that’s a depressing topic,” said Adelaide. “People are fine on our own, but put us together and we do some nasty things.”

  “There’s a concise history of humanity,” said March.

  Adelaide laughed. “It can be the title of my next book.” She glanced at him again, and then looked back at the road. “Seriously, are you okay? If something is bothering you, you can talk to me about it.”

  “No, nothing is bothering me,” said March. “If anything, I was thinking about how proud I was of you.”

  Her smile was incredulous. “Really, now.”

  “How you’ve made your own life despite adversity,” said March.

  She laughed. “Jack March. You really know what to say to a girl.”

  They pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store and got out of the car. March blinked in the reddish light of Calaskar’s sun, and Adelaide pushed her sunglasses onto her forehead. One of the many unwritten rules of Calaskaran society was that it was unacceptable to go out in public while looking slovenly, so Adelaide was wearing a short-sleeved blue dress with a black belt, her sandals a concession to comfort. March was wearing black trousers, a white shirt, a black jacket, and a black vest.

  He refused to wear a tie unless absolutely necessary since it gave any attackers an obvious handle on his neck. Fortunately, the coat was loose enough that he had no trouble concealing a kinetic firearm in a shoulder holster, and Adelaide had a similar weapon in her purse.

  That was another unwritten rule of Calaskaran society. Everyone went armed, a trend that had only increased with the frequency of Machinist terror attacks. And unlike other aspects of Calaskaran society, March was perfectly at ease with that. He hated to go anywhere unarmed.

  Though his cybernetic left arm meant that he always had a deadly weapon with him.

  They walked through the grocery store’s automatic doors, and the blast of the air conditioning was a welcome change from the heat of the Calaskaran summer. Rows of shopping carts stood on one side, and aisles ran the length of the store. Holographic signs near the doors proclaimed that the store was proud to use food grown and produced only on Calaskar itself (though a small asterisk indicated that some food items were prepared on facilities orbiting Calaskar). A blue plastic courtesy android shuffled forward.

  “Good morning, honored sir, honored madam,” said the android said in a polite female voice. “Welcome to the North Corner Grocery Emporium. May I relate today’s specials and sales?”

  “Sure,” said Adelaide. March waited as the android recited the store’s sales for the day. Calaskarans loved courtesy androids, though March found them tedious. Still, given how Calaskaran society emphasized courtesy in general, he supposed there were less efficient ways to go about it. The android finished listing the sales. Adelaide thanked it, and she plucked up a basket as March followed her into the store.

  “You’d get better prices at the warehouse center,” said March.

  “True, but I buy all my emergency supplies at the warehouse center,” said Adelaide, taking a jar of sauce from the shelf and putting it in her basket. “Those are all stocked up. Besides, a friend of my father owns this place, and…”

  She fell silent as they turned the corner.

  A heavyset man pushing a cart walked towards them, scowling at a list on his phone. He was wearing a suit that looked just slightly rumpled, and he had the thick fingers of a man who did a lot of work with his hands. March’s eyes noted the traces of grease under the fingernails, the calluses and the thick knuckles of the hands, the well-worn wedding ring, the ruddiness of face that meant he probably should lose some weight.

  March had never seen this man before, but he recognized him at once.

  Adelaide paused, glanced at March, took a d
eep breath, and then smiled. “William?”

  William Renton, Adelaide’s eldest brother, looked up from his phone and smiled. “Adie?”

  “I didn’t know you were in Keldrex today,” said Adelaide, and she gave him a hug.

  “Well, Julie wants some of the local wine,” said William. Julie was his wife, March knew. “None of the stores out in Vanderine have it, so I made a quick trip to the big city. Had to stock up on some stuff for the shop anyway. I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you were still on Calaskar Station shooting that documentary or whatever.”

  “That wrapped up two days ago,” said Adelaide.

  “Well, that’s good to hear,” said William in the tone of a man who wasn’t quite sure that Adelaide’s job qualified as actual work, but didn’t want to start a fight. He glanced at March. “I don’t think I’ve met your friend.”

  “Jack March,” said March, holding out his right hand. William shook it and tried to bear down on the fingers. He was strong, but March was stronger, and he squeezed right back. “Good to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” said William. “You’re a friend of Adie’s from the University?”

  March shook his head. “I’m a privateer captain.”

  Adelaide took another deep breath. “And…we’ve been seeing each other for a while now, William.”

  William’s eyebrows climbed halfway up to his receding hairline.

  Ah. Adelaide had four brothers, one sister, a small army of nieces and nephews, and her mother was still alive, but March had not yet met any of them. It was only logical that she hadn’t yet told any of them about March.

  “Seeing each other?” said William. “As in…”

  “Yes,” said Adelaide.

  William blinked a few times. “How on earth did you meet a privateer captain?”

  “You remember that trip I took out to Xenostas about a year and a half ago?” said Adelaide.

  “Oh, yeah,” said William. “That video you made about those old alien ruins. The kids had to watch it in school.”

  Adelaide nodded. “We had some problems on the way back that didn’t make it into the video. Jack helped us out, and, well…we hit it off.”

  An accurate enough summary, though it overlooked quite a lot.

  “Adie, that’s been almost eighteen months,” said William. “Weren’t you going to tell us?”

  Adelaide blinked at her brother, and March saw something that he had never seen before.

  Adelaide Taren, Professor of the Royal University of Calaskar and Beta Operative of the Silent Order, didn’t know what to say next. She liked to talk, could talk for hours on end without stopping, and he had never seen her uncertain of how to answer a question, even questions to which she actually didn't know the answer.

  “She didn’t tell anyone, Mr. Renton,” said March, “because I only make it to Calaskar for one week out of every two or three. No sense in telling anyone if it didn’t work out.”

  Adelaide gave him a look of mingled gratitude and embarrassment.

  “You do a lot of interstellar shipping, then?” said William.

  “Mostly contracts for the government,” said March. Which, again, was technically true. “It keeps me busy.” He sorted through the information he had memorized about Adelaide’s family. “Probably not as busy as running the only autocab and tractor repair business in Vanderine, though.”

  William laughed. “There’s God’s own truth, Mr. March. Trust me, if the privateering business ever dries up, go into engine repair. You’ll never run out of work.”

  “And I suppose the duties of a Civil Defense Warden keep you busy as well,” said March.

  William’s smile turned puzzled. “How did you know that? You’re not a spy, are you?”

  He was, but there wasn’t any need for William to know that. In fact, it would be safer for William and his family not to know.

  “You’re wearing the lapel pin of a Civil Defense Warden,” said March. “Hard to miss.”

  William blinked, glanced down at the red pin on the lapel of his coat, and laughed. “So I am. I had forgotten.” He glanced at March’s gloved left hand, and March could tell that the older man was itching to ask about it. But for once the Calaskaran emphasis on courtesy worked to March’s advantage. “Will you be on Calaskar for long?”

  “Another three or four days. I should have another cargo contract ready by then,” said March. Or Censor would have chosen March’s next assignment. “If you’re in Civil Defense, you know how slowly the government moves.”

  “Ha! Yeah, I do,” said William. “Whenever we do repair work for the government, it takes a stack of paperwork as tall as…well, tall as you to get paid on time.” He paused. “Why don’t you and Adelaide come over for dinner sometime? Julie…ah, that’s my wife…she makes a mean roast.”

  “That sounds pleasant,” said March. He glanced at Adelaide. “If Adelaide doesn’t object.”

  “Of course,” said Adelaide. He was surprised at how flustered she looked. Hardly anything affected her poise, but her brother apparently was one of those things.

  “But it’ll have to be the next time you’re on the planet,” said William. “I’m supervising the shop the next four nights. Big order of tractors to repair, and I need to make sure it’s done right.”

  “Well,” said March, and he shook hands with William again. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  William hugged Adelaide goodbye and went to pay for his groceries. March followed Adelaide through the store as she filled up her basket in silence, and they paid for the food. A few moments later they climbed back into the car.

  March waited as Adelaide fiddled with her keys.

  “Okay,” she said. “Okay. You’re probably wondering why I’m acting strange.”

  “It had crossed my mind,” said March.

  She took a deep breath and looked at him. “I haven’t told anyone about you. About us, I mean. Not anyone in my family, and none of my friends at the university. A few of them have figured out that I’m seeing someone. My mother has, definitely. But I haven’t told anyone about you.”

  March nodded. “Okay.”

  Adelaide frowned. “And…you’re not upset?”

  “No.” March paused. “Should I be?”

  “Then you don’t think that I’m embarrassed or ashamed or something?”

  March took a moment to parse that sentence. “No. Do you think that?”

  Adelaide let out a breath. “God, no. Jack, I love you. But…we’re in a dangerous business. The Final Consciousness loves to target the families of their enemies. My sister Sydney just had her first baby. I’ve got five siblings, and they all have children, and the Final Consciousness could go after any of them. The Machinists want you dead more than they want me dead, and if some clever Machinist operative figures out that we’re together…”

  March nodded. He had seen the Machinists employ such tactics many, many times.

  “And…it’s been fifteen years since my husband died,” said Adelaide. “No. Sixteen. Almost seventeen now. I’ve been single that entire time. Officially single, anyway. So…I don’t know how to stop doing that. How to walk up to my family and tell them that I’ve been seeing you.”

  “Suppose the cat is out of the bag now,” said March. “William seems like a gossip.”

  “I’m afraid he is,” said Adelaide. “The entire family is going to know by lunchtime tomorrow.” She sighed again. “I’m sorry, Jack. I don’t think I handled that well.”

  March shrugged. “It’s all right. I imagine it would be difficult to tell your family that you’ve been seeing a privateer who used to be an Iron Hand.”

  “None of them know I’m in the Silent Order,” said Adelaide. “My mother suspects I do some work for the Ministry of Defense, but that’s it. They think Duncan’s death was an accident, and they don’t know the truth. I’m afraid I’m the eccentric one of the family.” She smiled. “You handled meeting my brother well, though.”

  “I
already know all about your siblings,” said March.

  Adelaide blinked. “You do? It…” She blinked several more times. “You didn’t look up the Order records on them, did you?”

  “No, that would have been inappropriate,” said March. “But obviously your family is important to you. You have pictures of them everywhere in your house. Based on the pictures, you have five siblings and ten nephews and nieces. Eleven, now that Sydney had her baby. You told me that your father ran an autocab repair shop in Vanderine, so I looked up Renton Engine Repair on the planetary network. The staff biography page had William’s information, and I looked up his social media profile. From that, it was easy to put names and faces to the rest of your family. William shares far too much personal information on social media. It is obvious he’s never had any classified materials training.”

  Adelaide stared at him without expression. March wondered if he had made a mistake or broken one of the unwritten rules of Calaskaran society.

  “You researched and profiled my family,” she said.

  “I did,” said March, not looking away. “Like I said, they’re obviously important to you, and I knew I would meet them eventually. I wanted to make a good first impression, and so I found out as much as I could while using legal information channels.” He paused. “I’m sorry if that stepped over a boundary.”

  To his surprise, Adelaide laughed and then beat her forehead gently against the steering wheel.

  “Are you all right?” said March.

  “Yes,” said Adelaide. “Surprised, but I shouldn’t be. You always do everything systematically, Jack. Like this. You knew you would meet my family someday. I was kicking the can down the road, and you were getting ready for it.”