Rhythm of the Imperium

by Jody Lynn Nye

  I was suddenly jealous that I had to share her attention even with my closest friends, but duty called.

  “Must return,” Redius said, ruefully. “Lieutenant Plet waits.”

  “She will want a full report,” I agreed. “But I want to hear the parts later that won’t be in the official transcript.”

  Nesbitt’s big face turned red. “It’s nothing, my lord. Just a little fun.”

  “That’s the best kind of omission,” I assured him. “Later. I will supply the drinks.”

  Nesbitt reddened still further. Redius hissed with laughter and pulled him away. Most of the guards and the embassy staff went with them out the door. Only the envoy and I remained with Dr. Derrida.

  Phutes walked up and back before the Zang, waving his blocky fists, bellowing like a tornado. Suddenly, he stormed up to Dr. Derrida and shook a thick paw in her face. NR-111 rolled beside him.

  “Make it hear us!” he said.

  Laine shook her head.

  “If it notices you, it notices you. There’s nothing more I can do to draw its attention, Mr. Phutes. You can talk to it as long as you want, though. I don’t mind.”

  “Phutes, since we have fulfilled our promise to allow you access to the Zang,” Ambassador Melarides began, in her gentle voice, “may we discuss allowing the Wichu to resume command of their ship?”

  “No!” Phutes blared, rounding on the envoy. “If it does not listen to us, nothing is accomplished.”

  “That wasn’t our agreement,” the envoy said, gently but firmly. “Please, I would like to reopen this discussion now. It’s of the utmost urgency. The Wichu must be liberated. It is unfair to keep them prisoner on their own ship. Surely you must understand that.”

  Phutes swung an enormous arm at her.

  “Like they kept us? Get out. You are in the way.”

  Hastily, I sidled forward, interposing my person in between the envoy and her would-be assailant. The moving hand caught me by the shoulder and sent me sprawling. The blow was a hard one, but I was in the best shape of my life. I leaped up and resumed my stance faster than the stone being could react.

  “There’s no need to be violent,” I said, fixing the Kail with a stern glare. My shoulder throbbed. There would be a large bruise on it later. I refused to show weakness, putting up my chin in defiance.

  My stance seemed to enrage the Kail further. It brought its fist up over its head, then down like a hammer. I crossed my forearms and caught it. The effort evoked a grunt from me. Those creatures were heavy! I braced myself, holding the limb pinioned. Blaring indignantly, the Kail tried to force its arm down. I held as firm as I could. The rough grains of sand cut through the fine fabric of my tunic sleeve and scraped my skin raw. It hurt, but I tried to keep my voice steady. “Do be reasonable, old fellow. You have what you want. Won’t you keep your promise? I’ve always heard that the Kail were beings of honor.”

  Phutes wrenched his arm up and away. The gesture pulled me off my feet again. Relying upon my martial arts training, I tucked myself into a ball and rolled, coming up once more in a position intended to protect the envoy. The guards moved in to flank us, weapons drawn, but the Kail paid them no attention. He stood frantically brushing at his limb.

  “You touched me!”

  “Strictly speaking, you touched me,” I pointed out.

  “Go away. You are not wanted. Only the Zang.”

  Melarides raised her voice over the insistent whine from the Kail.

  “You may of course continue to speak with the Zang. While you are conducting your business with it, we will convey you to the platform where we are to hold our official conference with you, but we would prefer it if the rest of your, er, siblings vacated the Whiskerchin. Will you give the order? We will send a conveyance for the rest of the Kail.”

  I wrinkled my nose in distaste. I couldn’t help but notice the smell of the Kail, a combination of wet stone and sulfur fumes, had grown stronger in this smaller chamber. An entire contingent of the unhappy beings was more than I was glad to countenance. Fortunately, Phutes waved away this suggestion.

  “When the Zang speaks with us, we will release the Whiskerchin to its messy crew.”

  NR-111 seemed to shrug apologetically as it translated that insulting phrase.

  “We must depart from Counterweight. None of us wish to miss the upcoming event,” Melarides pointed out.

  “Then we go,” Phutes said, his face a mask. “The Wichu ship will follow us. Open a communication channel to us so we may speak to Fovrates.”

  Melarides looked disappointed but resigned.

  “I will see to it. Please contact me if you change your mind.” She withdrew. Phutes waited.

  “Why are you not going, too?” he asked us, in an accusing tone.

  “This is my room,” Laine pointed out. “Lord Thomas is my guest. As are you.”

  Its shoulders moved in a way that dislodged some of the smaller stones, but they were absorbed into its skin before they fell off. I watched the effect with fascination. The Kail glared at us.

  “Stay across the room. Where we can’t see you. And you will not listen.”

  “I promise,” I said. “The word of a Kinago is more reliable than sunrise.”

  The Kail emitted a noise like a vacuumbot spitting out lint.

  “There was a great deal of supersonic invective in that,” NR-111 said. “I apologize.”

  I waved a hand. “We do not blame you for repeating their words. I have heard far worse from my cousins,” I said. I turned to Laine. “Shall we enjoy some of that excellently scented coffee before it loses its volatile compounds?”

  We settled onto the circular couches and sipped the dark brew. It was heady and exotic, not unlike the young lady opposite me.

  “At last, we are alone,” I said. I regarded her with growing affection, admiring her small, round face, her smooth neck, and the charming form that was hinted at but not revealed by her soft, pale blue gown. I thought I saw some interest in her eyes for me, or perhaps it was only my hope. “That is, apart from half a dozen guards, three Kail, your Zang and a translator. On the other hand, that describes nearly any attempt one of my rank has at being alone.”

  “I’m nearly always on my own, when Proton and I are ranging,” Laine said, snuggling into the cushions. “We’re alone for parsecs in any direction. This feels like a huge crowd to me. How do you shut out all those other people?” She swept a hand to include the ship.

  “I meditate,” I said. “I picked up the skill during one of my previous enthusiasms, before I took up dance. But to be honest, I don’t really notice. I like having others around me. I thrive on society.”

  Laine’s rosebud mouth twisted. “I don’t. Not really. I never did.”

  I was struck by the sudden vehemence of her declaration.

  “Should I go away?” I asked.

  “No!” she said, thrusting out a hand to forestall me. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean you. You’re so nice. This is nice.” She seemed on the edge of saying something else, then her cheeks bloomed red. I changed the subject to allow her to collect herself. There was no need to rush. I was enjoying just being near her.

  “Do you like the coffee?” I asked. “The beans come from Rumdisa, some of the finest in the Imperium.”

  “This is so good,” she said, breathing in the steam. “I hardly ever get fresh coffee. Or pastries like these. They’re amazing!” She glanced at the small plate beside the large china serving platter. Only crumbs remained of a couple of petits fours. I leaped to fill her plate for her, adding a slice of glazed yuzu-lime cake over cursory objections.

  “Try just a bite,” I urged her. “This ship is installed with the best culinary technicians in the Imperium, apart from those who are in the personal service of my cousin, the emperor. We of the Imperium house also bring along our favorite foods and wines. The Grisgor limes are from an orchard I own outside Taino.”

  “Well, these are wonderful!” Laine said, brushing a few crumbs from th
e bosom of her gown. “You’re right. This cake tastes just right with the coffee. It’s counterintuitive to mix sour with bitter, but it works.”

  “I always enjoy experimenting in combinations of the five tastes and the six basic food groups. If you will come up again this evening, I invite you to sample some of my private selections.”

  “Last evening’s dinner was wonderful,” she said. “I’ve never tried some of those foods before. You were so very nice to share with me. I’m sorry I had to run back right away to be with Proton.”

  “It was my pleasure,” I said. I offered her a conspiratorial smile. “I have several other marvelous treats I’d like to offer you.” That sounded a trifle indelicate. I covered my confusion with a refined cough. “I’d be afraid to reveal the contents of my secret cache if nearly all of my relatives were not down on the planet’s surface. They are unrepentant vultures when it comes to someone else’s exotic delicacies. Somehow, distance seems to make even the most bizarre foods irresistible to those who did not pay for their importation.” I glanced at my hip, where my viewpad had been restored to its normal place in its handsomely tailored pouch. “It seems odd not to have one or another of my relatives pinging me, or be receiving new entries to their Infogrid files. We’ll all have to update sooner or later. I fancy they’re having wonderful adventures. I can tell you with relative certainty the additions to their files when they do return. One or more of them will befall some avoidable mishap. My cousin Nalney will lose something. Xan will break a few hearts. Jil will no doubt offend someone. She has a gift for it. Erita will complain bitterly about a minor slight that overshadows an otherwise wonderful experience. They will each greatly enrich the local economy, and they’ll return with numerous souvenirs and possibly as many images and digitavids as I have.”

  “I look forward to meeting them,” Laine said, then hesitated. “One or two at a time. What did you think of Counterweight?”

  “Very lovely,” I said. Memories of the day played through my mind in bursts of color, sound and scent. I began to combine my recollections with music and appropriate movements for future dances. “Alas that it wasn’t our ancestral homeland, but it is more ancient a human habitation than Keinolt or any of the Core Worlds. I believe that I have picked up some important insights on humanity that will inform my new dances. I’m preparing one to perform for my cousins when they return to the ship.”

  “I thought your little dance as we were leaving the park was really good, even if your teacher made fun of it. What was that about?”

  “My impression of the Whispering Ravines,” I said, adding a theatrical flourish of my hand. I limned the stark outline of the cliffs and the river below so I could almost hear the rush of the water. “The primitive landscape. Our sudden meeting and the fall of the rock that I thought would crush the Zang.”

  “Yes, I got that!” Laine said, her eyes twinkling. “I could feel the danger you threw yourself into. Once I figured out what you were doing, I think I understood most of the moves you made. Uh, steps? Anyhow, it was like a language of its own.”

  I beamed at her. No one else had interpreted the meaning of my dances as well as she did. “That’s exactly right! Madame Deirdre told me that movements were like phrases in a language. One puts them together to create a scenario. It is not enough just to show the actions. I must include the setting, the mood, and most of all, my emotional reaction to the event. Did you see that I didn’t fear for my own safety, but for that of the Zang?”

  “Yes, I got that,” Laine said, with a laugh. “Did you really feel that way, or was that how you want your audience to think you felt?”

  I clasped my hands over my heart.

  “You wound me! I reacted much too quickly to consider my own danger.”

  Instead of laughing, she put her hand on my knee. “I didn’t mean it to sound like you were puffing yourself up. It was really brave, considering you couldn’t know whether you were strong enough to move someone as big as Proton out of the way. He looks like he weighs tons even though he never leaves an impression on the ground. But you tried. That was wonderful. I admired that even more than the dance about it.”

  Her open admiration mollified my wounded feelings. “Thank you. Did you enjoy visiting Counterweight?”

  Her eyes danced.

  “I did. Everyone there seemed to feel at home, like you said. It was a beautiful world. Not at all terrifying. Some of the planets that Proton takes me to are pretty scary places. Not that they aren’t beautiful, too.” She put down her cup to draw a picture on the air. “One continent we visited was all honeycombed rock. It was pretty, from a distance. The inhabitants were gigantic insectoids. I think Proton was fascinated with the patterns in which they moved. I certainly was. They never bumped into one another, no matter how crowded the passage. I’m sorry I couldn’t take any digitavids of them. You could have used them for your dances.”

  “That is very kind of you to think of it,” I said. “Do you put any of your videos into your Infogrid file?”

  She raised one shoulder. “Once in a while, but I’m often seeing the sights from inside the protective energy shell that Proton has around us. I can see out, but my poor viewpad can’t pick up a decent image.” She grinned an apology, which I was more than happy to accept. “It was nice to see a planet with an atmosphere again. What was your favorite part of your tour?”

  “Without a doubt, meeting you and Proton Zang,” I said, with humble sincerity. My admission seemed to throw her into confusion. She blushed prettily. I changed the subject with haste. “How did you come to travel with it?”

  “I was an anthropologist,” Laine said, drawing her dainty feet up onto the couch under a fold of her gown, showing that she was becoming more comfortable with me. “I still am, I suppose. I was in a concealed blind observing a human population that has been living on Virgo 834j, a planet the locals call Virn. It’s infested with the most fearsomely huge reptilians you have ever seen, that make Solinians look like newts. We’re not sure if the human settlers went to live there on purpose, or if they crash landed or were marooned. There isn’t enough of the settlement ships left to make a determination that satisfies peer review. Believe me, I have tried to find a legitimate explanation. If there were contemporary records, they’ve been purged.

  “There’s a few thousand human beings surviving in that environment, but not too well. My university has been watching them for a few centuries now. The Virnese maintain remnants of Earth culture and law, such as trial by jury of one’s peers and freedom of speech, as well as some technological expertise, although that’s spotty. Whereas strength is dominant, it’s a matriarchal government because women make sure the population will survive. They live in villages surrounded by protective walls topped with sonic repellers. Those run on solar power by day and wind power by night. I based out of a very compact little tent with chameleon walls. It looks like a dead tree, or a thorn bush, or a lichen-covered stone, but it’s pretty sophisticated inside. I had a lot of other blinds, like inside the base of a statue, or under a building foundation.

  “One day, after I’d been there for a couple of months, hiding in a copse in the main village’s common field, the Zang appeared. The people started running toward it, not away, which I thought was interesting, considering what I saw was a big, glowing pillar that came out of nowhere. They shouted to the others to come and gather around. I thought at first it was a local energy phenomenon, because there were images like it in the tribe’s records and carvings. I couldn’t believe I was actually seeing one of the Old Ones, but that’s what my Infogrid link said it was. The Virnese don’t exactly worship the Zang—they haven’t gone that primitive—but they consider its comings and goings as a kind of omen, and perhaps they see it as a protector. I noticed that a few of the most aggressive reptiles that had been trying to storm the barriers had simply … ceased to exist.”

  “Good heavens,” I said, trying to picture the scene. “Thinning the herd?”

  Laine r
aised her shoulders. “I suppose so. In its own way, Proton is an anthropologist. It was as curious about those humans as I was, but it wants to make sure they survive, so it tweaked the environment a little. I wouldn’t consider it ethical. It’s not good science as we humans see it, but who am I to judge? The Zang probably date from not long after the Big Bang, so maybe we’re the ones being too cautious in the way we approach subjects.”

  “I see,” I said. I looked at her slyly. “Are you one of its subjects, then?”

  Her cheeks dimpled bewitchingly, and her eyes twinkled. “I suppose I am. It found me watching the Virnese. It didn’t give away my position, for which I was grateful. They’re suspicious of interlopers, because strangers often mean that a raid is imminent. I was at risk for being tortured or killed. Proton picked up on that. It observed me observing the Virnese for a while, and became curious about me, too. In any case, when it left Virn, it took me with it. Just like that, I went from studying humans to studying the Old Ones. I was out of touch for over three months. It’s not uncommon for me not to check in more than once a month, but it was longer than usual. I like working on my own. That’s one of the reasons I took up field work. Weird, isn’t it, an anthropologist who doesn’t enjoy being with people? My supervisor had been frantic until I finally got back to him, then he was thrilled. The data I have been collecting are unique. I feel privileged. It’s been a scholar’s dream. The Zang see things and feel things that we can’t possibly imagine, into spectra and wavelengths that would kill ephemeral beings. Their perspective is one I try to understand but know I never will.”