As usual, all characters in this story are eighteen years or older.
HOUSE TRIESTE
Paolo was occupied on the bridge of his father's flagship, The Vincennes, conducting its preflight inspection. To the uninitiated the room would feel almost sterile, a half dozen cushioned seats in a semicircle facing a blank wall. That was because everything he needed to see, hear or feel was inside his head, or to be more specific, in his Troon.
His staff, which weren't due for some time, had the same functionality, and would be able to access data and controls simply by thinking about them. It wasn't ESP, but technology.
Many years prior, when inter-universe travel was still in its infancy, the Troon corporation perfected a procedure to implant several devices in a person's brain so that, sight, sound, hearing, and even motor controls, could be digitally transmitted to and from a person's brain.
It was originally invented to enable function in quadriplegics, stroke patients, and anyone else who suffered a disabling injury or illness. But as the paralyzed started to walk, the blind to see, and the deaf to hear, the general public wanted a piece of this new technology.
Paolo, like most people who lived for the last five hundred years or more, could send and receive auditory messages using the implant situated in his jaw bone. Using another implant in his motor cortex he could power up and fly the ship, run machinery, or simply turn on the lights in a room. And yet a third implant tapped into the occipital cortex of the brain would enable him to access any video, any monitor, or any camera feed within a certain matrix and they would show up in his mind as if he were watching a movie on a TV monitor.
Right at that point in time as he was going through the preflight checks on The Vincennes, he could just as easily have been sending text messages to Genevieve, or even monitoring the defense grid at the outer limits of their provincial solar system, or just simply watching a video.
As he was checking the power flow to the ship's engines, he heard the sound of someone entering through the ships main entry. He assumed it was one of the crew members and so kept on with his work until he was surprised to see his gray-haired father at his elbow.
The patriarch of House Trieste, Duke Benito Trieste, was not a tall man, standing several inches shorter than his son, but then Paolo got his height from his mother. How much his father had aged had initially startled Paolo when he arrived home from exile.
"Good morning son," Benito smiled and when he did the lines around his mouth and eyes became more prominent. "You are up early this morning." His father's voice was not as deep and resonating as when Paolo was a child, and it depressed him to think about how many years he had missed.
"Good morning father. I couldn't sleep, so I came down to the hanger early." Paolo tried to search his father's countenance for signs that he knew about him and Genevieve. He had just spent the night in his sister's bed, and he was anxious to know if someone had discovered their tryst.
"I received a message from the Emperor's emissary late last night," the old man said out of the blue. "It appears House Kleet may have some stipulations to the marriage contract."
"Fuck them," Heinrich said impetuously, but then he realized that he was being impudent to the wrong person, "Excuse me, father."
"No, don't apologize. I had the same reaction."
"Then why do we kowtow to these people?"
"Because we are not in the position to do otherwise," his father said with a tinge of frustration. "You of all people should know that. The only reason you are home is because of this marriage."
"I'm sorry, father. I wish this deal would have never been brokered. I worry about Genevieve."
"I know, I know. I worry about her too. But she is a Trieste, born of privilege, and privilege has its responsibilities. We are rich and somewhat powerful, but our lives are not our own."
"Yes, father."
"You're taking the Vincennes out, I see?"
"Yes, I thought me and the boys would take it out again. I can't get enough of flying this thing."
"It's a beauty, and still the fastest ship in this quadrant."
"What is it the Kleets want?" Paolo said knowing that his father didn't visit him to ask about the Vincennes.
The call came from her after his father had left and the crew was starting to take their posts. Her name flashed across the HUD in his vision; Incoming call - Genevieve Trieste, and as it did he hurried to his captains quarters for more privacy.
"Hi," he said as the line engaged.
"Hi. You left early?"
"Gen, I had to, I couldn't risk being found."
"It's okay. I know," she said apologetically. "I just would have liked to kiss you goodbye."
"You did," he said and smiled. "You don't remember?"
"No. I guess I was out of it. Did I really?"
"Yes. You called my name when I kissed you." She had also said something else, but he refrained from telling her. The joy he had found upon first hearing it disappeared quickly for it only emphasized how absurd this whole situation was, and that soon she would be married to, of all people, a Kleet.
"Oh good," she said relieved. "Where are you?"
"On the Vincennes. I'm taking her out on a training session this morning."
"How long will that take?"
"A few hours."
"Then you'll be back this afternoon?"
"Yes. Why?" He asked though he knew the answer.
"I want to see you. Is that okay?"
"More than okay."
"Maybe we could go for a ride this evening?"
"I'd like that."
"Good, then it's a date."
"Are brothers and sisters supposed to date?"
"Is that how you see me, as someone sisterly?"
"No."
"Oh good, because I think I remember someone coming all over my tits last night, and I don't think it was my brother. I thought that it was my lover?"
