He smiled at her. Because I can see you have it in you. I know you can do this and you will. Its for both of us, remember. My life was ashes before I met you, Gaby, and I cant imagine a future without you being part of it.

Both of us, she echoed, her voice suddenly sounding hoarse. He was right, so very right: without him she would be dead within a few days. You can rely on me.

She remembered the first time she ever set eyes on Karl Petrova, almost six years before. For a long time he had been nothing more than another adult amongst the many who surrounded her. Even in the years that followed, she had been only peripherally aware of his reputation, of those stories regarding his spectacular victories against isolated pockets of militant Freeholders.

Even then, however, she had known Karl was different from everyone else: an outsider born on some other world within the Accord. She had also seen the way Thijs and Abramovics faces hardened whenever his name was mentioned, as if each fresh victory he brought to the Demarchy somehow carried him further and further away from their favour.

Ordinarily, his refusal to have a faith chip implanted would have excluded him from any position of power within the Demarchy. But his tactical skill and his astonishing ability to predict what the Freeholds next move would be allowed him to rise through the Demarchys ranks with astonishing speed regardless.

Finally, after many years of service to the Demarchy, he had been appointed her bodyguard.

For an outsider to be given such an exalted position was extraordinary, but Karl had explained to her the reasoning. There had been, he told her, an attempt by unknown forces to kidnap the previous Speaker-Elect immediately prior to her Ascension, twenty-one years before. Drastic measures had been introduced to prevent any such attempt ever happening again, and Karls military and strategic skill counted for far more than whether or not he happened to have a chip lodged under his scalp. As her bodyguard, he had gradually won her trust, albeit slowly. She had come to look forward to seeing that dry smile, those world-weary eyes.

After they had finally become lovers, just a year ago, he had told her that he originated from a place called the Three Star Alliance, which had acquiesced to the Accords political demands rather than face a brutal war it could not possibly win. Deeply embittered, he had fled across the stars to Redstone, having learned there was a need for experienced mercenaries within the Sacerdotal Demarchy of Uchida.