Graham McNeill: I, Mengsk

They moved away from the door, taking refuge from the cold wind behind a lean-to, and he took this golden opportunity to sneak forward and slip through the door, flipping up the lenses of his goggles as he entered the kitchen.

Warmth assailed him from the large, stone-built ovens, and the air was redolent of the lingering aroma of the Mengsk family's last meal. This time of night, the kitchen was empty, the cooks and skivvies retired for the night before rising early to prepare breakfast, and he briefly wondered what the two smokers were doing up this late.

He dismissed the matter as irrelevant and continued onward, moving from the kitchen to the door that led toward the main entrance hall, easing it open, and looking out into the shadowed chamber.

Portraits of Angus Mengsk's illustrious ancestors lined the walls and a number of tasteful statuettes, vases, and weapons, chosen by his wife, Katherine, were displayed on fluted columns. In contrast to the dignity of these objets d'art, a number of toys belonging to Angus's youngest child, Dorothy, were scattered at the bottom of a flight of carpeted stairs that led up to the family bedrooms.

The tiled floor was a black-and-white, checkerboard pattern, and he waited as a guard entered from across the hall and checked in with his compatriots in the security room on a throat mike.

Angus Mengsk kept only a handful of armed guards within the summer villa, claiming that he came here to get away from the trouble Korhal was having with the Confederacy, not to be reminded of it.

The guard turned from the front door and started toward the dining room, shutting the door behind him. With the guard gone, the figure swiftly entered the hall and made his way up the stairs, pausing at the top to glance along the wide corridor.

The bedroom shared by Angus and Katherine was to his left, but the figure set off in the opposite direction, toward the bedrooms of the Mengsk family children.

The floor was wooden, covered with thick rugs, and he walked carefully on it, avoiding the places in the floor where he knew the wood creaked. He slopped before a thick door with a bronze “A” fixed to the wood and smiled to himself.

He gripped the handle, softly opened the door, and ghosted inside the room.

The room was dark, with long benches strewn with dismantled equipment and rock samples lining the walls. Framed images of geological strata and rock compositions hung from the walls and a lumpen, sheet-covered form rested in the large, iron-framed bed.

He took a step into the room and a voice said. "I suppose you think that was clever."

Turning around, he saw Achton Feld, head of security for the Mengsk family, seated on a plush leather chair in the far corner of the room. Dressed in a dark uniform jacket and loose-fitting trousers, Feld's hand rested on the butt of a heavy pistol. He was tall and powerful—built exactly as one would imagine a head of security would be proportioned.

The figure in black relaxed and removed the goggles, revealing patrician features, a strong jawline, and the wide, eager gray eyes of a seventeen-year-old boy.

"I thought it was very clever of me, as a matter of fact," said Arcturus Mengsk.

Achton Feld examined the geo-survey unit with a critical, and not unimpressed, gaze. The boy had managed to put together quite an infiltration package, and Feld was going to have to thoroughly review the security procedures in place at the summer villa.

He put the geo-survey unit down. If Arcturus could get this far, there was no telling how far someone with more malicious intent might reach.

Feld didn't want to the think about the consequences of that. Korhal was in a volatile enough state as it was without something happening to Angus Mengsk. To have so outspoken an opponent of the Confederacy murdered in his bed would be a blow from which the fledgling independence movement on Korhal might never recover.

"Shouldn't you be at the academy in Styrling?"

"I got bored,” said Arcturus, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling the covers back to reveal a series of pillows arranged to give the semblance of a human being. "They weren't teaching me anything I didn't already know."

That was probably true, reflected Feld. Arcturus Mengsk was many things. Including a truculent teenager and a selfish rogue who possessed a confidence some called arrogance. But he was also fiercely clever and excelled at everything to which he turned his hand.

"Your father won't be happy about this."

"When is he ever happy with what I do?" countered Arcturus.

"Once a rebel, always a rebel, eh?" said Feld.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it," replied Feld. "So why break into your own house?"

Arcturus shrugged. "To see if it could be done, I suppose."

"And that's all?”

“Well, maybe to annoy my father," Arcturus smiled. "That never gets old."

"Oh. I have no doubt it'll annoy him," said Feld. "Especially now. And after he's gotten through chewing me out, I'm sure he'll have some choice words for you, too."

"So how did you do it?" asked Arcturus. "Find me, I mean? The bodysuit kept me off the infrared and I know the laser net didn't get me. So how did you know?"

"And why should I tell you? If anything I should be hauling you over the coals to find how you got this far. You had help, didn't you?"

"No." said the boy, but Feld knew he was lying. Having a senator for a father had schooled the boy in many of the political arts, and he was almost as skilled a dissembler of the truth as a seasoned veteran of the Palatine Forum.

Almost, but not quite.

"There's no way you could have known how to avoid the laser net without help."

"All right," admitted Angus. "I had help. I persuaded Lon Hellan to give me the specs for the lasers so I could modify that geo-survey unit to make them visible. I told him it was for a school project."

"Then Lon Hellan will be looking for a new job in the morning."

"Yes. I suppose he will."

Anger touched Feld at Arcturus's lack of concern for the man whose life he had just ruined for the sake of a prank and at the boy's need to challenge the limits of his abilities.

"Come on," said Arcturus. "Tell me. How did you find me? Some new system I didn't know about? A biometrlc reader? A DNA scanner?"

Feld looked at the young, eager face and felt his anger melt away. Angus Mengsk's son had a quality that caused those around him to forget their ire and want to please him. Only his father and mother seemed immune to his charms.

"It wasn't a new system, it was an old system you forgot about."

"An old system? What?"

"EB Mark I," said Feld, picking up the geo-survey unit.

"EB Mark I?" repeated Arcturus. "I've never heard of that one? Is it LarsCorp? No, wait, it has to be Gemini, yes?"

"Neither," said Feld, pointing to his eye. "Eyeball. Mark I. I saw you on the spy-cams as you came in through the kitchen."

"Spy-cams? What spy-cams?"

"The new Terra model spy-cams your father had installed last week in time for that Umojan ambassador's visit".

"Who?"

"Do you listen to anything that goes on in this house that doesn't involve you?"

"Not if it's anything to do with my father. It's all politics and business, far too boring to pay attention to," said Arcturus. "So who's here?"

"A man named Ailin Pasteur and his daughter," said Feld. "Apparently he's some sort of bigwig on Umoja, and he wants to talk trade with your father."

That wasn't entirely true, but Arcturus had displayed little enough interest in the senator's dealings before now for Feld to bother with explaining further. World-changing events were in motion and all Arcturus wanted to do was piss his father off and spend his time with his coterie of sycophants at the academy or his collection of rocks and gems.