Fury - part 4

"You're nuts," Mace said. He shook his head. "Ymir's a deathtrap, Alyx."
Alyxandra Helena Konovalev regarded him quietly, arms folded across her chest, then turned to face her brother. "What do you think, Lex?"
Ulysses Alexandre Konovalev looked troubled as he set his coffee down. When he spoke, his words came out carefully, as if discussing these matters was a language strange to him.
"I think… you've considered this whole thing carefully, but it's still basically a huge gamble." He shrugged. "Sorry. It's been a long time since I've had to think about anything other than moving rocks. I'm probably not the best qualified to offer judgment on military strategy."
"Don't give me that," she snapped. "You were the brightest star in Outermost's academy, and your scores have never been eclipsed-"
"Present company excepted," Mace cut in. "Give him a break, Alyx. He's been in limbo for almost half his life, not to mention the memory loss."
Lex held up a hand. "Let be, Dad. She's right."
She stiffened at the open reference to Mace's status. "I see there are no longer any secrets."
"In private," Mace said. "In public he's still Alexandre's - actually, right now he's nobody. A minstrel's prentice. Regarding the relationship, though, I didn't realize it for a long time myself." He looked embarrassed. "Goes to show what you'll hide from yourself if you try hard enough."
"Funny thing about memory all around," Lex continued. "Mine was gone for a long time, but what I've gotten back is so clear, it's like… like it happened yesterday. Everything. That mnemonic implanter I was stuck with gave me a lot more than-"
"Lex," Mace warned.
"Yeah. Right." Lex rubbed his temple and gave Fury a shaky grin. She resolved to ferret out what they'd just hidden from her, but it would wait.
"Those sims you ran for us are pretty detailed," he continued. "You've thought of a lot of stuff I wouldn't have: situation-response formations, jamming salvos out the gate, remora fighter launch and mine deployment… Dark, it's a lot to absorb."
"I've had a lot of time to think about it," Fury said, part of her brain filing away her brother's use of the Starwolf epithet.
"What I want to know is why you're so convinced going to Ymir is necessary," Lex said. "If the Bloodlines are already mobilizing, isn't that enough?"
Mace leaned back and blew air out his cheeks in exasperation. "Maybe not. Alexandre still rules, and nobody will move without his say-so. That it, Alyx? You want to give them something they can't ignore? Are you finally making a play for the throne?" Two gray eyes bored into her one.
"I want to inspire them to act without waiting for a madman's orders." Fury met his gaze. It was difficult, matching wills with this man from her childhood, but she managed, adding, "I don't want to rule, Starkar. I hate Outermost and the backstabbing politics that infects the Court. Besides, it would trigger a true civil war, and I won't be responsible for that."
"Why not?" Mace asked. "You're threatening one right now."
"A false threat. I won't let it lead to bloodshed."
"I don't know that it's in your hands anymore. I picked up some rumors of division in the ranks. For example, the Crimson Suns Order may declare for you openly if Eun Alba's staff can convince him to take the leap." Mace picked up his coffee and took a leisurely swig. "Tell me, Alyx: How is it you've kept your secret all these years? If the Orders knew you were Konovalev, there'd be a lot of support for placing you on the throne."
Fury took a sip from her mug of tea before answering. "First tell me how you guessed," she said. "It's not common knowledge, to say the least, and I don't have the same face you knew me by."
"No special brilliance on my part, I'm afraid." Mace laughed and put the mug down. "Old Starkweather and I were good friends, you might recall. I kept in touch off and on over the years, and he tipped me off when I sent word to him about returning to B-E space. Said you'd done him proud."
"I'll roast him," she said without rancor. "We worked damned hard to make the cover and make sure it stuck." Lex looked completely lost, so she decided to explain. "You know I was fostered with the Starkweathers. Shortly after you were lost, there was an assassination attempt. I was the target. Somebody tried to leave the tribe without an heir." She rubbed her eye patch uneasily. "Obviously, they failed, but we decided to put out that they'd succeeded."
"Why?" Lex asked.
"The assassin was good, too good. Brilliant, in fact, and so highly trained it's a miracle I made it out alive. We still can't tell you where he came from, but it wasn't Cardinal Spear, and I don't think it was the Empire. We didn't get a chance to interrogate him, either."
"Like Nagashima back when," Mace said.
"Exactly."
"How'd you make it, if he was so good?" Lex prompted.
"That's my secret," she said.
"Good enough," Mace said. Lex nodded, and Fury continued.
"We provided a body with the appropriate injuries, and I went through surgery to alter my features, my voice, and my geneprint. Afterwards, Starkweather put me into his forces as an orphan, an obscure ward of the Bloodline whose parents were killed in '15. My history is sketchy, and I'm listed as six years older than I am. There are a few other details to make it stick, but essentially I'm supposed to be from nobody stock."
"And Cardinal Spear bought it?" Mace asked. "Alexandre didn't throw a fit?"
Fury smiled. "My idea. The assassin did hit someone, you see. Starkweather's niece Fienna. She lived, but in a permanent coma. We altered her to look like me and sent her 'home' to Outermost." She stared at the table, a lump suddenly in her throat. "Father had her killed within a week. Nobody mentions my-her-name at Court. Or anywhere." Old memories flooded her, and she didn't know how to handle them. These two men brought back so much she'd buried. She drew a deep breath and looked up. Lex had a troubled expression on his face, almost a guilty one. Mace reached out and squeezed her arm.
"Alyxandra Helena Konovalev has been dead for fifteen years. She doesn't exist." She steeled her voice. "There's only Fury. And I have earned my rank." Lex froze at the last sentence. She'd said it sharply, but he needed to know how things stood with her, what she valued. "I think the question here is: what now? Do you plan to return to Outermost, brother?"
He stared at his fists for a long moment. When he answered, his voice was soft but determined. "No. I've been… away… for a long time. A thrall. It wouldn't be smart right now. I'm not qualified to take up where I left off. And I don't think I want to. I'm not the same person I was, memories or not."
"You're a powerful symbol, son," Mace said. "People have already seen you and made guesses. Rumors have started."
"Just guesses, just rumors." Lex raised his head and turned his full attention to Fury. "I want to go with you, Alyx. To Ymir."
"Oh, Christ and Hunter." Mace thumped the table. "Not you, too. Is having a death wish a family trait?"
Fury sat back and scrutinized her brother. He was sincere, she realized. Completely sincere. He'd never been adept at deception. Not like a full Konovalev, she thought bitterly. Not like her.
"You're the heir to the Exiled Bloodlines, like it or not," she said. "How can I take you into a 'deathtrap' when you may offer a peaceful succession to the tribe? Give me a compelling reason, Lex. Otherwise, you stay here out of the line of fire." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mace nod in agreement.
Lex leaned toward her, blue eyes ablaze. Uncertainty fell away from him like a cloak. In that moment, she saw her mother's features and Mace's blended so strongly that she wondered how anyone could ever have believed a drop of Konovalev blood ran through this man's veins.
"So I can earn my rank, Sirdar-Prime," he said.