Cartelite the unity book.., p.1
Cartelite (The Unity Book 5), page 1
The Unity
Book V
Cartelite
By Gilbert M. Stack
Amazon Edition
Copyright 2024 by Gilbert M. Stack
Cover Copyright 2024 by Shirley Burnett
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Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One: Homecoming
Chapter Two: I Would Like to Remain Above This
Chapter Three: The Hegemony Is Obsessed with Rank
Chapter Four: It’s So Good to See You
Chapter Five: This Is Ms. Gytha Baak
Chapter Six: Under Your Authority
Chapter Seven: There Are Options
Chapter Eight: We’d Start with Physical Augmentation
Chapter Nine: Its Target Cannot Be a Coincidence
Chapter Ten: Bioware Is Just a Tool
Chapter Eleven: One Fatality and Two Critical Injuries
Chapter Twelve: The News Is Most Disturbing
Chapter Thirteen: Please Don’t Kill Her
Chapter Fourteen: Let’s Go Down by the Water
Chapter Fifteen: A Major Disadvantage
Chapter Sixteen: I Do Not Cheat
Chapter Seventeen: We’re Cartelites
Chapter Eighteen: Jewel Isn’t an Armenite
Chapter Nineteen: No Pity
Chapter Twenty: This Is Your Platoon?
Epilogue
Excerpt from Preternatural 1: The Devil’s Caverns
About the Author, Gilbert M. Stack
Other Works by Gilbert M. Stack
Contact Gilbert M. Stack
Dedication
This one is for my friend, Chris, who flattered me by asking when the next book in the series was coming out. Thanks for the encouragement, Chris.
Chapter One: Homecoming
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the guests of honor, the newly married Luxora Sapphira of the Khaba Cartel, and her husband, Major Kole Delling, Empyreal Emissary of the Hegemony of Armen.”
The Khaba anthem began to play—just one of many reasons that outsiders considered the individual cartels to be nearly synonymous with sovereign nations. Jewel slipped her sleek brown arm through Kole’s and they began to walk down the processional stairwell in perfect synchronicity. Their coordinated action was as effortless as the smile that lit Jewel’s face. Until this moment, she had not fully realized how important this evening would be to her. She was coming home in triumph having transformed a future-to-be-pitied into an extraordinary victory of personal wealth and status for herself and her hoped-for children.
She raised her right hand in the faux wave of the elite and acknowledged the hundreds of guests as she and Kole continued to descend the stairs. Her silvery slip of a dress sparkled enchantingly in the light, setting off the glitter that Ife Gyasi, Jewel’s mother’s personal stylist, had painstakingly worked into her flesh.
Jewel’s skin had fascinated Ife as it did everyone she’d encountered since her return home. Blue-black bands decorated her exposed flesh in swirling geometric patterns that accentuated her curves and added a hint of primitive menace to her appearance which was totally in contrast to the ultra-sophistication of traditional Cartelite fashion. Yet the markings absolutely intrigued everyone who saw them. Wherever she went, strangers’ eyes fastened upon those bands tracking their swirls as if they were navigating a maze, following the lines until they were lost beneath the scant covering of her dress leaving it to the viewers’ imaginations to decide just how the patterns completed themselves on her stomach, her rear end, and her breasts.
“You would think that no one in your entire society has any work to do,” Kole muttered beside her. His stereotypical Armenite frown was as prominent as her smile. Coupled with his towering height, broad shoulders, and personal spiraling tattoos, that frown transformed what was in Jewel an aura of intriguing mystery into a flatly dangerous demeanor made all the more exciting by his intense masculine beauty. Kole looked like a wild animal let loose in an elite party stalking the room as he chose his prey.
She wondered if her totally monogamous husband had any idea that most of the women and many of the men gathered to greet them would eagerly agree to take him to bed tonight. Cartelites adored their exotic novelties.
Why didn’t she find the idea exciting? Not that Kole and she were free to indulge that sort of fancy. On her husband’s home world, adultery was literally suicidal—a form of old-fashioned Russian roulette. But Jewel was born and raised a Cartelite princess. Shouldn’t she at least enjoy the fantasy of an extramarital adventure?
She answered her husband. “For many of these people, coming to this party is working. A lot of business is conducted on what you might call the social level and a reception like this gives the leaders of government and industry a chance to initiate and strengthen important associations. “Surely you have receptions back in the Hegemony.”
“Not like this,” Kole insisted. She noted that he was scanning the crowd ahead of them with unusual intensity and wondered if he were searching for important people among the guests or for potential sources of danger. He was a very bright man and well-versed in military and security matters. He had to know that many of the people waiting to greet them had lost money due to the recent maneuverings of Jewel and her cartel, as well as from her wedding to Kole and the commercial alliance it secured. Many undoubtedly wished her harm even as they contradictorily respected her for fighting to the top in the cutthroat game of finance that was the dominant obsession of the elites of her nation.
She wondered what a genuine reception of state was like in the Hegemony. There had been a small, awkward gathering directly after she and Kole married on the Righteous Lightning which had vague similarities to the situation they were entering now. Both were opportunities for the gathered elites to meet the new bride and groom, wish them well, and attempt to steer them in directions which most favored their personal interests. Perhaps what bothered Kole was the far greater numbers awaiting them here in the Cartel Worlds, and the wide varieties of male and female dress that stood in such stark contrast to the literally uniform appearance preferred by the militaristic Armenites.
They reached the bottom step. “Well, in theory, gatherings like this are why your superiors sent you here. They’re opportunities for cultural exchange.” At least that was the cover story.
Before Kole could answer, Jewel picked out a face in the crowd that surprised and delighted her. “Mr. Ptah, it has been ages since we’ve seen each other. You look amazing. Please let me introduce my husband. Kole, this is Wadi Ptah, the father of one of my dearest friends growing up. Tell me, sir, how is Hathor?”
Wadi Ptah was a classic representative of the Cartelite elite. He was tall with broad shoulders and brown skin that was a shade darker than Jewel’s own. He wore a flowing gown embroidered in brilliant colors. The only thing surprising about him was that his dark brown hair hung back off his head in long thick braids instead of the close-cropped appearance her father had adopted these days. It was a very different look than the thin beaded appearance that Ife had crafted for Jewel’s hair tonight, but quite striking none the less. Her father should try it.
Ptah’s voice boomed out across the gathering, taking full advantage of the fact that currently every pair of eyes were upon them to reinforce his importance as the first guest greeted by the new bride and groom. “Look at you, Luxora Sapphira. Our pretty little girl comes back to us a full-grown woman with a fairytale husband at her side.” He placed a dark hand paternally upon her shoulder and turned so that the vid-casters would be certain to capture this image for their millions of viewers. “Allow me to be the first to congratulate you and praise the wise arrangements that brings the armenium flowing once again through your cartel to the enrichment of all our worlds.”
In her excitement over seeing a familiar face, Jewel had forgotten just how pompous Hathor’s father could be. He was a significant shareholder in the mid-level Mantu Cartel—an important, if junior, partner of Khaba—and his businesses had been badly hurt by the recent friction between Khaba and Kole’s House of Delling over her parents’ inability to produce Jewel as contracted for the wedding. The resulting armenium shortage had caused a galactic recession and hit Khaba and its associated cartels hard in the bottom line, but all of that pain was over now that the marriage had taken place and the armenium was flowing again.
Ptah was not done speaking. “Of course, you’re anxious to greet my daughter again. Where is my darling beauty? Hathor? Of course, you remember your dear friend, Luxora.”
Hathor Ptah had been one of the small circle—girls like Bes, Dabba and Zuri—that had traveled with Jewel about the Cartel Worlds as part of their formal education. Jewel had never felt particularly close to any of those girls. With the impending doom of her marriage hanging over her head—a circumstance they had all expected to remove her from Cartelite society permanently—Jewel had never succeeded in forging the close interpersonal bonds that she observed growing between the other young women. Yet, even though she’d never felt a member of the inner circle of t
Hathor slipped out of the crowd wearing a shiny gold dress wound so tight across her body that it clearly displayed the contours of her form underneath. She wore her hair molded to stand straight up on her head with a gentle twist—a look that fully forty percent of the women were wearing this evening. Her right temple bore four apparent-diamonds that were really extremely sophisticated bio-circuitry. As for her body, Hathor sported the perfection one expected of women who enjoyed the full support of modern cosmetic enhancement. Her skin was two and a half shades lighter than Jewel’s and there was not a wrinkle or blemish on her smiling face. Yet none of those observations immediately penetrated beyond Jewel’s peripheral awareness. What she saw was that Hathor, her schoolmate, had gotten...older.
Intellectually, Jewel understood that she’d spent eight years in cold sleep escaping the Valkyrie system, but emotionally the knowledge hadn’t struck home until this moment.
Chronologically, Hathor was half a year younger than Jewel, yet here she stood a thirty-year-old woman while Jewel was still physically twenty-three.
“Jewel, you look utterly fabulous,” Hathor gushed. There weren’t that many people in the Cartel Worlds who had been willing to use Jewel’s preferred name and it warmed her heart to remember that Hathor had been one of them. Her old friend’s feet danced excitedly beneath her as if the sight of Jewel had moved her emotionally back to their school years. “Just look at you. Not only haven’t you aged a day but you’ve got these…” Her voice trailed off as she ran her fingers down the markings on Jewel’s bare arm. “These tattoos are simply fabulous. I have got to get me some.”
As Kole’s frown deepened beside Jewel, Hathor brought her hand up to touch the thin beaded braids crowning Jewel’s head. “And your hair? Jewel, when did you become such a trend setter?”
Hathor’s enthusiasm threatened to become overwhelming. “It’s great to see you too,” Jewel told her, surprising herself by how much she meant it. To be welcomed back with this level of excitement astounded her.
“This is my—” Jewel started to introduce Kole but Hathor wasn’t finished exclaiming over Jewel’s appearance. “You were always so—I don’t want to be rude, but you were a little strange when we were back in school. Always going your own route, never truly part of the crowd—and now look at you.”
Kole asserted himself, still frowning although Jewel couldn’t read him well enough to discern if he were actually angry or simply being solemn for the formal occasion. “My wife has sensible judgment and is unafraid to take the initiative when circumstances require it.” He put a hand possessively on Jewel’s other shoulder. “These are praiseworthy qualities.”
Hathor’s eyes lit up as she appraised Kole. “So, you are the empyreal.” She stepped past Jewel to run an appreciative hand across Kole’s chest. “I’ve always wondered how far those tattoos travel.”
Kole stiffened and Jewel knew him well enough to realize he was very unhappy that this stranger was touching him. Jewel wasn’t too happy about it either—not with the way her old friend was caressing Kole.
Out of basic diplomacy she tried to make a joke out of her concerns. “Whoa, take a step back there, Hathor. Armenites aren’t as touchy-feely as we Cartelites are.”
Hathor smiled as if she thought Jewel was making fun of her husband and not warning her off. “Well maybe we should change their minds about that. Does the famous Armenite stiffness follow them into the bedroom where it might have some use?”
Jewel squelched a shocked laugh, slipped her arm around Hathor’s shoulders and used a bit of her menite-enhanced strength to pull her old friend firmly away from her husband. “I can’t believe you said that. You haven’t changed at all since we were in school.” She looked over her shoulder at Kole. “Hathor used to make an art form out of blunt innuendo.”
“I still do,” her old friend assured her. This time her hand caressed Jewel’s back, getting suspiciously close to her rear end. What did Hathor think she was doing?
A short man with the classic mocha-colored skin of a Cartelite male stepped out of the crowd and inserted himself into the conversation. “Luxora, it’s been a long time. Couldn’t you have given your friends a hint at your intentions all those years ago? I could have made a fortune selling Khaba shares short if I’d known you were going to run off.”
“Knum Ezbet? Is that you?” Jewel asked. He was not a person she had expected to see at a party such as this. He was the boy she’d gone furthest with back in school—which wasn’t actually very far as she had had chaperones whose primary function was to make certain she’d had no opportunity to lose her virginity. It wasn’t that she’d even had particularly strong feelings for Knum, he’d just been one of the few guys willing to brave the guards to spend some time with her.
He stepped forward and briefly pressed his cheek to hers in a traditional, intimate and yet perfectly appropriate Cartelite greeting. “Hathor is right. You look wonderful, Luxora.” He immediately turned to Kole and held out his hand in greeting. “Major Delling, you have won yourself a genuine jewel of the Cartel Worlds. I hope you fully appreciate her value.”
As far as Jewel could tell, Armenites didn’t shake hands very often. Their preferred form of greeting—at least among themselves—was the salute. Perhaps Kole had been studying Cartelite customs because he reached forward and grasped Knum by the wrist rather than the fingers and shook.
Then he surprised them all. “Jewel mentioned you once in one of her vids to me. She said that you shot a sha at five hundred yards when it surprised one of your classmates and attacked him on a hunting trip. It takes a cool head to keep your wits about you under that kind of pressure.”
Knum swelled with obvious pride. Receiving a complement on his marksmanship from an Armenite was a noteworthy occasion which must have been doubly sweet since the short man had never excelled at athletics. “Thank you, major, I haven’t thought about that in years. It was pure instinct. You know the creatures are a native form of particularly vicious canine. We’re lucky there wasn’t a whole pack of them.”
“He obviously knows what the sha are, Knum,” Hathor said.
Her interruption disconcerted Knum. “Yes, but…” His voice trailed off under her withering stare.
“How do you even remember that?” Jewel asked. She was flattered, even impressed by the piece of trivia. In the old days, she could have used her bioware to prompt her recollection about things she knew about Knum, but Armenites didn’t have such memory aids. “I don’t even remember telling you about it.”
Kole’s face was normally difficult to read—a combination of the traditional Armenite stolidity and the blue-black bands that masked his face. But now he cocked his head in a manner she found almost querulous. “I remember everything you’ve ever said to me, Jewel. I thought you understood that.”
She slipped her arm back into his. “Sometimes you are so sweet.”
Hathor’s father, Wadi Ptah, evidently didn’t enjoy being left out of the conversation for so long. “My son-in-law,” he said with a gesture toward Knum, “is a man of cool wits and excellent discretion.”
“Son-in-law?” Jewel squealed. ”Hathor? You married Knum? Congratulations!” She quickly embraced her friend but immediately picked up on the lack of enthusiasm with which Hathor returned the gesture.
“Our families arranged it,” she said with just a hint of bitterness chilling her voice.
Jewel chose to ignore the jibe. “Whose didn’t?” She flashed a smile at Kole that was as much for him as it was for the cameras tracking every word they said for the net casts. “It’s working out pretty well for us, isn’t it?”
“Far beyond either of our expectations,” Kole agreed. “May I also offer my congratulations, Mr. and Ms. Ezbet.”
“It’s Ptah,” Hathor corrected him, pulling herself up to her haughty best. “We’re Mr. and Ms. Ptah now.”
Kole handled the slight rebuke with unusual dexterity. Maybe there was a diplomat hidden inside of him after all. “Yes, of course, to an outsider many of your Cartelite customs, such as which name, if any, a marital couple will choose, is quite opaque.” He arched an eyebrow at Jewel. “I assume that the choice has something to do with money?”
