Peter Hamilton - Pandora's Star

“I should think not, Senator, you have a reputation to consider now.”

“Oh, thanks. It’s people like you I need support from.”

“I know, darling.” Estella laid her hand on Justine’s arm. “How’s it going? Is it really awful?”

“Thompson had an excellent staff team. I just vote the way they tell me to. I haven’t started doing deals myself yet. It’s just a temporary appointment, after all, though the senators did give me a unanimous vote to carry on his representation. Even his opponents endorsed me, I think they were all shocked, or running scared. Nobody’s ever killed a senator before; this was supposed to send a message to the killer that you can’t stop politicians like this. So all I’m doing is basically holding the fort till he gets out of the clinic.”

“Be brave.”

“You know me.” She gave a brittle laugh.

“Do they know who did it yet?”

“No. Nor why. It’s all so stupid. Who kills people in this day and age? We’re not in the barbarian era anymore.”

Estella plucked at her dress. “We are this afternoon.”

“Yeah. Are you staying for the play tonight? It’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The Tolthorpe actors are supposed to be very good, and the gardeners have built an open-air stage in front of the lower beech woods.”

“I’m not walking off anywhere, darling. A stiff drink and a decent-looking first-life waiter is what I need.”

“Good, I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Sure thing. Now, is this Murielle?”

“Of course.” Justine introduced her friend to the girl and her fiancé who were waiting on the other side of the gazebo. Murielle was wearing a copy of the white dress Marilyn Monroe had on in The Seven Year Itch. And carried it off well, Justine had to admit. She did have a fabulous figure; and with it such a wondrously sunny disposition that Justine had to acknowledge how old and jaded she truly was nowadays despite wearing a body of young flesh. Young Starral Konstantin was so obviously smitten as he stood at her side, the two of them holding hands the entire time. Simply being around them was wearying to Justine. For ages she’d been swept along by Murielle’s ingenue enthusiasm for her fiancé, and the party, and the marriage, and their future life together, and the many children she wanted to produce (with natural pregnancies—for God’s sake) for her handsome beau. It had been a marvelous distraction helping the girl plan everything; Murielle had been living at the Tulip Mansion for the five months since she finished Yale. Even the Primes and the navy were just parallel subjects.

Then some lunatic had killed Thompson.

Why?

And now she had to be tough and resolute the way everyone expected a senior Burnelli to behave, when all she really wanted to do was put her arms around her little brother and cuddle him like she used to do when she was five years old and he was a baby.

“Are you all right, Grandee?” Murielle asked.

To her horror, Justine realized her eyes were moistening. Not now, goddamnit! “Coping,” she said staunchly. “I just remember him every now and then. That’s all.”

Murielle put her arms around Justine. It was such a childlike gesture, spontaneous and genuine, that Justine was in danger of sobbing out loud. “It’s all right, Grandee,” Murielle said softly. “He’ll be back soon.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Justine nodded appreciatively, wanting to escape from Murielle’s big concerned smile. “Sorry, I’m ruining this for you.”

“We’re family, Grandee. That means accepting the rough with the smooth, and standing together through all of it.”

Justine picked at the girl’s shoulder straps, adjusting them. “Better or worse, eh?”

“I’ve got the better part of it right now.” She glanced across at Starral, who gave an understanding smile. “You know he’s very good in bed,” Murielle said in a low confidential voice.

“Yes, dear, you told me.”

“I don’t mind if you want to spend a few nights with him, Grandee. Before we get married.”

Justine started giggling. She couldn’t help it; Murielle was absolutely serious. How wonderful to be that young. “That’s all right, dear. You enjoy him, he really is a great catch, anyone can see that. Take him upstairs every night and simply ruin him for any other girl.”

“I do my best to be bad,” Murielle said demurely.

“Good. Us Burnelli girls have reputations to maintain, you know. I’m depending on you to uphold the family honor. If they can still walk in the morning we’ve not been bad enough.”

Murielle was giggling now. Starral directed a faintly suspicious and worried look at the little female conspiracy meeting.

“Oh, lordy,” Justine murmured. She’d just seen a stretched Skoda pull up. “Look who’s here, and —joy—she’s brought her new whore with her.”

The two Burnellis straightened up and put on their false smiles as Alessandra Baron walked up to them.

“My dear Senator, I’m so sorry about your brother,” Alessandra said. “Thompson was always such a delight to have on my show. A decent politician I always called him. One of the last.”

Justine gave the celebrity a pretentious exaggerated air kiss. “Why thank you. He thought the same about you.”

“As soon as his new body is conscious, tell him I was asking after him. And I’d love to have him back on my show.”

“I’ll tell him. Thank you.”

“I want to introduce my newest and best affiliate reporter,” Alessandra gushed. “This is Mellanie Rescorai.”

Justine smiled as she shook hands with the young woman. She was a first-lifer, about the same age as Murielle, but that was about the only similarity. This one was a raw street fighter, Justine saw, dangerously ambitious. Strange that Alessandra hadn’t recognized that. But then perhaps she was off guard when looking into a mirror.

“An honor, Senator,” Mellanie said. “You have a lovely home here.”

“Thank you. I’ve accessed your reports several times. You seem to be making quite a name for yourself, especially on Elan.”

“Those people were awful, opposing the navy like that. The Commonwealth should know what they were doing.”

“I’m sure they should.”

“Now, Mellanie, this is a party,” Alessandra chided. “And this has to be the blushing bride.” She took both of Murielle’s hands. “Congratulations on your engagement, my dear. You look wonderful. You’re putting the rest of us to shame in that dress. Quite right, too.”

“Why thank you,” Murielle said sweetly.

“Yes, congratulations,” Mellanie said. “You’re very lucky.” It almost sounded as though she meant it.

Justine waited until the reporters had said hello to Starral and left the gazebo. “Remind me, why did we invite her?”

“It’s a Society wedding, Grandee. There are rules.”

“Oh, yes, I knew there was a good reason.”

“Do you think Gore will come? Starral’s family has all shown.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll be here. He knows what I’d do to him if he doesn’t show.”

Gore Burnelli did turn up in his huge Zil limousine, although it wasn’t until well after five o’clock. Justine broke off from the group of Halgarths she was talking to and went to greet her father. He was wearing a perfectly cut tuxedo, though not even that could help make his gold face and hands seem human. There was a woman with him that Justine didn’t recognize at first; very attractive, with a young face that had some Oriental features, black hair tied back neatly. She was in a modern business suit, which was annoying, the invitations had been most specific.

“Don’t scowl,” Gore said. “Paula is here as my guest.”

“Delighted,” Justine said. Then she recognized the woman without even having to reference her e-butler. “Investigator, I’ve followed a lot of your cases.”