Principles of Angels Read Free Page B

When a mistake by those in power could lead to them getting their heads blown off, political analysis became strangely popular.
     
    The Tri-Confed system was ancient, one of mankind’s oldest territories. The originally settled planet, referred to simply as the homeworld and not even graced with a capital letter any more, was barely habitable, scarred by environmental mismanagement and centuries of warfare between the three main continental nations. The three power-blocs had extended their conflicts, alliances and uneasy truces into the rest of the system thousands of years ago. By this point, their different homeworld environments had already impacted on their genetic make-up. Kheshi tended to be sallow-skinned and dark-haired, Yazilers were pale and Luornai were darker-skinned, with red or dark hair. Or perhaps, Elarn had thought when she had first read this, they had come from original Old Earth stock, back when skin shades were associated with political or cultural groups.
     
    Some time during the dark days of the Sidhe Protectorate, the three sides had reached a compromise. Vellern, a mid-system rock too small for terraforming and long since stripped of any resources worth fighting over, was chosen as the site of a new unifying government. So they had built the Three Cities, expending massive resources to out-do each other in scale and grandeur, and had begun sharing power according to a complex process codified down the centuries and referred to as the Concord.
     
    A soft chime announced that breakfast had now finished, but a light brunch was available in the day lounge. As though it was anyone’s business when she ate! That was another thing she hated about space travel: you were always on a schedule. It wasn’t as though anyone needed to go anywhere in person these days; beamed virtuals were as good as being there in the flesh. They had certainly been enough to let her have a profitable and fulfilling career without having to leave the world she had been born on. She could transmit a concert via beevee direct from the studio in her house, her producer adding acoustic tweaks and whatever backdrop he felt suitable for the particular market: space scenes for non-planetary nations, natural beauty for the urban fan-base, ecclesiastical architecture for the devout . . .
     
    Still, whatever she felt about being told when to do it, as she had no idea what the arrangements would be once she was down on Vellern, she should eat soon. She made her way down the corridor to one of the luxury ship’s three lounges, where a selection of light mid-morning snacks were laid out, just in case any passenger experienced hunger pangs in the three hours between breakfast and lunch. There were perishable delicacies including fruit, a sweet-leaf salad and a tray of semi-crystallised flower-petals among the usual cornucopia of dried meats, cheeses, pastries and cakes. Presumably they had picked up fresh supplies when the ship made a brief stopover on the Confederacy homeworld yesterday morning; ecological wreck or not, homeworld would want to make sure an élite interstellar liner had everything its occupants might possibly want. Vellern was a popular tourist destination, not just for those from the three Confederacy nations, but from everywhere in human space, with all the attendant wealth that brought in. There were plenty of affluent people who found the idea of a place where everything was available and nothing - allegedly - forbidden very appealing, even if Elarn did not share this view.
     
    She began to browse along the buffet, picking out a couple of pastries and a savoury roll. She still needed to pack, which would give her an excuse not to take lunch with her fellow travellers. The only thing worse than being enclosed in an artificial environment for two weeks was being forced to share it with strangers.
     
    ‘Will you be visiting Khesh City, Medame Reen?’
     
    Elarn jumped, almost dropping her plate. The speaker lounged on