Rhythm of the Imperium

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “My Lords and Ladies, Lord Xanson Melies Kinago,” I announced. Though Xan was an inch or so taller than I, with shoulders quite a bit wider, I had gained enough theatrical skills in my lessons with Madame Deirdre to pantomime a grander silhouette. Swiping one hand down before my face, I revealed a stern visage with lower lip protruding slightly in an expression of exaggerated displeasure. Nell, Jil and Nalney let out shouts of merriment.

  “Not funny, Thomas,” Xan said.

  “Of course not,” I said. Swinging my arms in enormous arcs, I mimed his angry walk, thrusting aside spaceships, moons, and even blazing hot suns in an effort to gain access to my end. That goal happened to be a sphere that I captured between my outstretched hands. My face took on an expression of bliss and excitement as I beheld it from every angle. Then the orb in my hands blew up. The force threw me backwards, sending me tumbling head over heels. My cousins burst into laughter. Rillion pounded the arm of his couch with delight.

  Xan growled. He gave a running leap and sprang, intending to land on me and, as he had done so many times in our youth, to pummel me into dust. I had gained a good deal of speed and fitness from my dance training as well as my previous military experience. I rolled nimbly out of his way and attempted to crawl to safety. With his superior reach, he managed to grab one of my ankles and yanked me back into his grasp. We wrestled on the rug, each scrabbling for an advantageous hold. I was not as strong nor as determined as he was, however. With a couple of expert twists, Xan ended up sitting on my chest. His cheeks were flushed red, but his bad mood had passed. His bright blue eyes twinkled.

  “All right,” he admitted, looking down on me from his superior position. “It was funny.” He glanced up with a speculative eye at the circle of faces surrounding us. “Can you do Nalney?”

  “No!” Nalney called. “Do Erita!”

  “No,” Erita protested. “It’s always me.”

  “Do Parsons,” Nell said, with mischief lighting her eyes.

  “Yes! Parsons!” Xan got up and offered me a hand. I took it and was wrenched roughly to my feet.

  As I had already acted him out for Madame Deirdre, it was little trouble to call up the graceful yet dignified motions that made my mentor discernible even at a distance. I drew myself up, squared my shoulders, and set about putting the world to rights. When chaos confronted me, I turned to face it with a level gaze. I employed not only micro-expressions, but micro-motions. Nothing, not even colliding galaxies, was enough to break my calm. I exuded power, but in a subtle fashion that made even Xan give ground to me when I moved toward him. The rest of my family laughed and hooted at him. Xan gave me a sheepish grin. Even the symbol of Parsons was enough to generate respect.

  While I progressed in my stately pavane, I pondered the less-than-perfect way in which the man himself had been moving the last several days, since our return from Counterweight. If it had not been Parsons of whom I was thinking, I would have thought he was in pain. Such a concept shook me to the depths of my being. Of all the people in the orbit of my life, I could not and would not think of Parsons as being mortal in any way. I expected that when I lay upon my deathbed, at the ripe age of a century and a half or more, he would stand at my side, looking precisely the same as he did now, peering down at me with a grave demeanor and reassure me that the clothes I had chosen to die in were completely unsuitable.

  The vision cheered me up at once. It chased away the unhappy thoughts, leaving me to ramp up my impression into one that was openly ridiculous. I glided between my cousins, plucking problems away and casting them into the outer darkness. Nothing ever quite rose to my lofty standards, but I knew in my heart that I served the Imperium with all my heart, and no matter what faults lay those poor mortals who made up its core, I would defend them with my life. This last I intimated by standing stalwart against a charging menace. With pure force of will, I caused it to slow to a stop, then I flicked it away with a mere twitch of my finger.

  My cousins rolled with laughter on their couches and divans, but at the final sequence, they sat up, eyes wide.

  I had chased away the threat before me, but I sensed yet another close by.

  “He’s standing behind me,” I said, casually, to a goggle-eyed audience of my nearest and dearest. “I always know he’s there, because I didn’t hear him approach.”

  Nell nodded, eyes as large as saucers.

  I turned. Indeed, the gentleman himself stood there before me. I tried to detect a modicum of amusement in his expression, but alas, I was not Plet, who was adept at reading even his dearth of reaction. I assumed a casual stance, relaxing my shoulders.

  “Parsons, always a pleasure. To what do we owe the honor of this visit?”

  “A warning, my lords and ladies,” Parsons replied, his dark eyes expressionless as though he had not just witnessed a spirited pastiche of his calm style and demeanor. It made me feel guilty, even though parody was protected under the law. “We will arrive at the viewing platform within twelve hours. Please be prepared to transfer the belongings you wish to take with you. Laundry facilities and valet services are waiting for you on the platform. The shuttles will be available to convey you back to the Jaunter if you wish, but please keep in mind that the situation is still … malleable. Take a security detail with you when you go anywhere alone. They will answer your summons any time of the day or night. If an alarm is sounded, please remain where you are or retreat to a safe location and await further news. May I count upon you for your cooperation?”

  Unspoken was the threat hanging over our heads that we would end up locked in our cabins for the duration, and not be permitted to witness the spectacle with our own eyes. It was a warning like many that we had had to listen to all of our lives. For all the fact we behaved with free spirits most of the time, we knew the problems it would cause if one of us went missing.

  “Agreed,” we chorused.

  “Very well,” Parsons said. “Please try to amuse yourselves until then … If there is a security announcement, please pay heed to every detail.”

  “Do you believe there will be one?” Jil asked, her eyes wide with worry. Sinim clasped her hands and looked woeful. Parsons turned a kindly visage toward them.

  “I could not say, my lady. Please be aware and respond accordingly. I would require your word on it.”

  “We will,” I promised him.

  He departed. We were left to stare at one another in bemusement.

  I clapped my hands together.

  “How about a quick round of Hide-and-Seek?” I asked. “The winner receives the remainder of my supply of Ramulthy truffles. I have four white and one black left.”

  “N-n-nooo,” Erita droned. “I don’t want to get up!”

  “Then what do you want to do?” Xan asked, reasonably. “My valet already knows what I want to take to the platform hotel. My packing will consist of having him reassure me that everything is in my travel cases, for which I will offer praise and thanks. That won’t take up any measurable portion of twelve hours.”

  Nalney brightened. “I just remembered, I heard a good joke while I was on Counterweight!”

  I sat down on a handy chair. Several eager faces turned toward Nalney.

  “Tell it!” I demanded. “Always pleased to have a story I may add to my mental database.”

  “Well,” he began, “there was a horse who walked into a tavern… .”

  “How could a horse walk into a tavern?” Erita asked, her face sour.

  “Well, just say there was one,” Nalney said. “I don’t interrupt your stories!”

  “You do!”

  “Only when they’re boring!”

  “Well, you’re no good at telling jokes. You always forget some detail and go back to explain it, which makes your stories very dull.”

  I thought it best to step, in a verbal sense, of course, into the midst of this growing catastrophe. After all, I was the undisputed master of the humorous anecdote.

  “Do you know, I think I heard the same one,
Nalney,” I said. “Was it about a horse with a waterfowl on its back?”

  Nalney’s face took on a pinched look as he clawed back recollection. “Yes! I think it was. And there was a frog, and a couple of crickets …”

  “Did it go like this?” I asked. “Stop me if I fall off the tracks. The horse in question trotted into a tavern, with a duck, a frog and two crickets …” And before anyone else could offer a critique, I was off. The tale was a longish one, winding in and out of different points of view, but leading one back to the punch line, which I permitted to play out until I had the attention of everyone in the room, including Erita. “… I told them it was a hay bar, but none of them believed me!”

  “Yes!” Nalney said, relieved to hear the conclusion that he faintly recalled. “That was it!”

  “So, you see, he can tell a good joke,” I said. “Here’s another one I would wager you heard.”

  I began to tell jokes and stories gleaned from my capacious memory. My collection of humorous anecdotes was, I fancy, unrivaled throughout the aristocracy and much of the lower classes in the Imperium.

  Nell had not heard some of the newer ones. She had been at school while I was out on a mission with the long-suffering Admiral Podesta, to whom I was forever grateful for putting me on punishment duty where I encountered a virtually limitless fount of funny tales and witticisms. My cousins were greatly envious, though they would have been hard pressed to have delved diamonds out of the dirt I was forced to sift. On the other hand, they would also have been unlikely to have been taken aboard the admiral’s flagship.

  At the conclusion of the last, which left me gasping for air, Nell jumped to her feet.

  “That was wonderful, Thomas!” she said. “And now, I’ll take on your challenge. Hide-and-Seek! I’ll be It. Everyone go hide! I’ll find you, and if I do, you’ll all have to pay a penalty!” She covered her eyes with her palms. “One, two, three, four, five … !”

  We sprang up and ran.

  Rillion and I went for the emergency ladder behind the wall beside the commissary, and clambered down into the depths of the ship. “You’re not going for the empty compartment beside the cold storage, are you?” he asked. I was below him on the steps. That had been my destination, but I was happy to cede it to him.

  “You can go there,” I said. “I was going to hide in the hydroponics center, under the potting table. Nell will never look for me there.”

  We reached the next level, where the cold storage unit was situated. He punched me in the arm and ran off. I kept descending. My destination was four levels further down.

  My viewpad began to vibrate. Hanging from a metal cleat by my elbow in the semi-darkness was not the best way to answer it, but I managed to work the device out of its pouch and hold it up to eye level.

  “Thomas here,” I said, as the screen changed from its initial graphic to the image of a face of a handsome blonde woman. “Good afternoon, Lieutenant Plet!”

  “Lord Thomas,” she said, as though surprised. “This a general call to the crew, not for you.”

  “But I am part of the crew!” I protested. My voice rose and echoed off the metal walls of the tube I was in. I ducked and fell silent. I was not beyond earshot for anyone close to the entry hatch. Nell might hear me.

  “Not for this, Lord Thomas,” she said. She looked exasperated. “Please remain where you are. Do not inform anyone that you have been in touch with me, and do not communicate with the Kail.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” I replied. The possibilities for adventure aroused my soul. “What are you doing with regard to the Kail? May I help?”

  “No! Yes,” she amended, clearly conflicted. She was failing Parsons 101 in unflappableness. “Keep your cousins safe. If any alarm is raised, get them to a secure location.”

  “We have already promised Parsons to stay aware on the platform,” I replied.

  “Good. Keep watch until then as well. I am not at liberty to disclose more.”

  “This is too exciting,” I said. “Should I collect anyone else into our enclave? Should I go and fetch Dr. Derrida?”

  “No. For the time, she should continue in her normal routine. Our chief concern is for the Emperor’s family. Is that clear?”

  “Absolutely like crystal,” I said. I reversed course and began the climb back to our day room. I glanced toward the faint light high above me. It seemed much farther up than it had going down. “I will keep track of our entire group. You may count on me.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “It’s going to cost me four white truffles and a black. In exchange, I want a full recounting when you can finally tell me what you can’t tell me now.”

  “Oh, very well! I must go!” The connection clicked off. I swarmed up the ladder like a spider. Something interesting was brewing, and if I was not in the middle of it, at least I was close enough to the sidelines to listen.

  CHAPTER 30

  Parsons leaned into the portable screentank set up on the desk in his cabin. The room had been swept several times for listening devices and malware in the intelligent circuitry. He had deployed the small gray device that blotted out sound for meters in every direction so that his communication with the crew of the Rodrigo could not be heard. It was regrettable that Lord Thomas now had an inkling that a mission was under way, but Plet had been wise to give him a task that would keep the Jaunter’s noble charges secure, thereby solving two problems at once. The ship had launched quietly and without fanfare from the landing bay.

  He had full audio and tri-dee visuals on each of the crew, but he was not directing their actions. Plet had command of all boots on the ground. Parsons was available in an advisory capacity.

  The Jaunter had been wary of the crowd of small ships that were on their way to view the Zang spectacle, but Parsons saw it as the opportunity to move close to the Whiskerchin without arousing suspicion in the Kail.

  Holidaymakers from the Trade Union, the Autocracy and a dozen other galactic entities steered their ships around the four behemoths in their presence like small fish swimming around sharks. Most of them had wide open Infogrid circuits, calling out to one another like children in a playground, unaware that the Kail might be able to infiltrate their computer systems. They paid no attention to a small scout ship that slipped out of the Jaunter’s landing bay and joined their throng. When a cluster of sleek, high-powered long-distance craft zipped right underneath the Whiskerchin’s prow, the Rodrigo was in their midst. No one noticed single-being life-support boats launching themselves from the small craft’s cargo bay and disappearing into the blackness.

  One by one, the small craft landed softly on the skin of the Wichu vessel, attaching firmly with magnetic and adhesive clamps to the hull. Their camouflage circuitry went immediately into operation.

  “Oskelev, you first,” Plet said.

  “Copy that,” the pilot replied. Parsons switched to the heads-up display inside the Wichu’s pod. She unstrapped her pack and attached it to her EVA suit. “We sure their harnesses look like this one I’m wearing?”

  “I saw them myself, lieutenant,” Parsons said. Oskelev’s visuals jerked suddenly as she realized he could hear her.

  “Aye, sir,” she said. “How did you do this in a pod? I’m so cramped I feel like I’m strangling!”

  “Mind on the job, Oskelev,” Plet said. The Wichu said no more. The lights inside her shuttle went out. The entire front assembly of the small craft swung wide. Only the few small work lights on the Whiskerchin’s hull were visible. She reached one of the hexagonal hatches, and paused, as she had been instructed.

  Parsons kept his eyes on her progress, but he reached for the keypad and brought up Captain Wold’s viewpad sign.

  “Captain,” he said, as soon as Wold answered, “it is in motion. You asked to be notified.”

  Wold responded with studied casualness.

  “Acknowledged. Please keep me posted. The Kail are in the communications section.”

  That meant Fovra
tes was engaged, and would not be paying close attention to what was going on around him. The timing was ideal. Now they must make the moment count.

  “Proceed, lieutenant,” Parsons said.

  “Aye, sir,” Oskelev said.

  She activated the hatch and swung inside. This cargo bay was unpressurized, as she had been told, so no atmosphere alarms sounded. Mechanical arms plucked items that had been requested from other departments and set them on conveyor belts to pass through a series of air-filled bladders that gradually warmed the containers to ambient internal ship’s temperature. Oskelev swung onto one of the belts and sat between a massive case of flash-frozen premium meat cuts and a stack of nonperishable art supplies.

  At the far end of the belt, more arms took the slightly warmed boxes and set them on loaders one at a time, depending on their coding. As one reached for Oskelev, it paused. She fired a disabling charge at its central processing unit, and clambered off the belt. The malfunction alarm sounded and the loading bay lights flashed red and white. By the time repairbots trundled into the bay, Oskelev had disguised her discarded EVA suit as a soft-pack container and walked out into the corridor. On the harness buckled around her body, she wore the insignia of a medical officer and carried a small shoulder bag with the same symbol embossed on it. Those credentials would let her pass anywhere on the ship.

  “I’m in,” she whispered, and headed for the lift shafts. Wichu vessels functioned almost precisely the same as Imperium vessels, many being manufactured in the same shipyards. The ambient temperature was slightly lower, making it more comfortable for the heavily-furred beings, but oxygen and gravity meant there was no danger to Oskelev or any of the others. She turned the last corner.