and you can question or look through the files as you wish, within the
limits of security I mentioned. But first I'm sure you'd like to rest. A
servant will show you to your room. We'll have aperitifs in half an
hour. My wife is eager to meet you."
VIII
----
At dinner Flandry laid on the wit and sophistication he had
preprogrammed, until over the liqueurs Susette Kalehua Lagard sighed,
"Oh, my, Captain Whaling, how marvelous you're here! Nobody like you has
visited us for ages--they've all been provincials, or if not, they've
been so ghastly serious, no sensitivity in them either, except a single
one and he wasn't human--Oh!" Her husband had frowned and nudged her.
She raised fingers to lips. "No, that was naughty of me. Please forget I
said it."
Flandry bowed in his chair. "Impractical, I fear, Donna. How could I
forget anything spoken by you? But I'll set the words aside in my mind
and enjoy remembering the music." Meanwhile alertness went electric
through him. This warm, well-furnished, softly lighted room, where a
recorded violin sang and from which a butler had just removed the dishes
of an admirable rubyfruit souffle, was a very frail bubble to huddle in.
He rolled curacao across his tongue and reached for a cigarette.
She fluttered her lashes. "You're a darling." She had had a good bit to
drink. "Isn't he, Martin? Must you really leave us in less than a week?"
Flandry shrugged. "Looks as if Distinguished Citizen Lagard hasn't left
me much excuse to linger, alas."
"Maybe we can find something. I mean, you can exercise judgment in your
mission, can't you? They wouldn't send a man like you out and keep a
leash on him."
"We'll see, Donna." He gave a look of precisely gauged meaningfulness.
She returned it in kind. The wine had not affected her control in that
respect.
His inner excitement became half sardonicism, half a moderately
interested anticipation. She was attractive in a buxom fashion, to which
her low-cut shimmerlyn gown lent an emphasis that would have raised
brows at today's Imperial court--the court she had never seen. Jewels
glinted in black hair piled about a round brown countenance. Vivacity
had increased in her throughout the meal, till her conversation sounded
less platitudinous than it was.
Flandry knew her as he knew her husband, from uncounted encounters: the
spouse of an official posted to a distant world of nonhumans.
Occasionally such a pair made a team. But oftener the member who did not
have the assignment was left to the dismal mercies of a tiny Imperial
community, the same homes, bodies, words, games, petty intrigues and
catfights for year after year. He or she might develop an interest in
the natives, get into adventures and fascinations, even contribute a
xenological study or a literary translation. Lady Susette lacked the
gift for that. Since she had had no children when she arrived, there
would be none for the rest of Lagard's ten-year hitch. The immunizations
which let her walk freely outdoors on Diomedes were too deep-going for
her organism to accept an embryo, and it would be too dangerous to have
them reversed before she departed. What then was Susette Kalehua Lagard,
daughter of prosperous and socially prominent Terrans, to do while she
waited?
She could terminate the marriage. But a man who had gotten resident's
rank was a fine catch. He could expect a subsequent commissionership on
a prime human-colonized planet like Hermes, where plenty of glamour was
available; in due course, he should become a functionary of some small
importance on Terra itself, and perhaps receive a minor patent of
nobility. She must feel this was worth her patience. Her eyes told
Flandry she did have a hobby.
"Well, if our time's to be short, let's make it sweet," she said. "May
I--we call you Ahab? We're Susette and Martin."
"I'm honored." Flandry raised his glass in salute. "And refreshed. Folk
on Terra have gotten stiffish these past few years, don't y' know.
Example set by his Majesty and the inner circle."
"Indeed?" Lagard asked. "Nuances don't reach us here. I'd have
thought--with due reverence--the present Emperor would be quite
informal."
"Not in public," Flandry said. "Career Navy man of Germanian background,
after all. I see us generally heading into a puritanical period." Which,
if Desal is right, is not the end of decadence, but rather its next
stage. "Luckily, we've plenty of nooks and crannies for carrying on in
the grand old tradition. In fact, disapproval lends spice, what? I
remember a while ago--"
His risqué reminiscence had happened to somebody else and the event had
lacked several flourishes he supplied. He never let such nigglements
hinder a story. It fetched a sour smile from Lagard but laughter and a
blush down to the decolletage from Susette.
The staff, assistants, clerks, technical chiefs, Navy and marine
personnel, were harried but cooperative, except when Flandry heard:
"Sorry, sir. I'm not allowed to discuss that. If you want information,
please apply at Sector HQ. I'm sure they'll oblige you there."
Yes, they'll oblige me with the same skeleton account that Terra got. I
could make a pest of myself, but I doubt if the secret files have ever
contained any mention of what Tm really after. I could check on the
whereabouts of Commander Maspes & Co., and make a long trip to find
them--no, him, for probably the team's dispersed ... ah, more probably
yet, the files will show orders cut for them similar to those in Captain
Whaling's papers, and the men have vanished ... maybe to bob up again
eventually, maybe never, depending on circumstances.
More deceptions, more phantoms.
He sauntered into the civilian part of town and was quickly on genial
terms with factors and employees. Most of them found their work
stimulating--they liked the Diomedeans--but were starved for new human
contact. And none were under security. The trouble was, there had been
no need for it. They knew a special Intelligence force came to search
out the roots of the unrest which plagued them in then business. They
totally approved, and did not resent not being invited to meet the
investigators save for interviews about what they themselves might know.
None had seen the entire team together; when not in the field, it kept
apart, officers in the Residency, enlisted men in a separate barrack.
Yes, rumor said it included a xeno or two. What of that?
Otherwise the community had only heard Lagard's brief announcement after
the group was gone. " ... I am not at liberty to say more than that
human traitors have been trying to foment a rebellion among the
Lannachska. Fortunately, the vast majority of the Great Flock stayed
loyal and sensible. And now the key agents have been killed or captured.
A few may still be at large, and information you may come upon
concerning these should be reported immediately. But I don't expect they
can do serious harm any longer, and I intend to proceed, w
ith your
cooperation, to remove the causes of discontent ... "
The next Diomedean day, Flandry donned a heated coverall and a dome
helmet with an air recycler, passed through pressure change in a lock,
and circulated among natives in their part of town. Most knew Anglic and
were willing to talk; but none had further news. He wasn't surprised.
Finding a public phone booth, he took the opportunity to call Chives
when nobody who chanced to observe him was likely to wonder what a
solitary operative was doing there. He used a standard channel but a
language he was sure had never been heard on this world. The nearest
comsat bucked his words across the ocean to Lannach where, he having
paid for the service, they were broadcast rather than beamed. The relay
unit he had left under the cliff made contact with the Shalmuan's
portable.
"Yes, sir, at present the young lady is eating rations taken from her
car before she abandoned it. They should last her as far as the sea, for
she is setting a hard pace despite the overgrowth and rugged topography.
I must confess I have difficulty following, since I consider it
inadvisable to go aloft on my gravbelt. I feel a certain concern for her
safety. A fall down a declivity or a sudden tempest could have adverse
effects, and she does not let caution delay her."
"I think she can manage," Flandry said. "In any event, you can rescue
her. What worries me is what may happen after she gets where she's
going. Another twenty-four hours, did you estimate? I'd better try to
act fast myself, here."
Susette didn't wish to lose time either. Three hours after she and
Flandry had seen Lagard off, she was snuggled against him whispering how
wonderful he had been.
"You're no slouch on the couch yourself, mlove," he said, quite
honestly. "More, I hope?"
"Yes. As soon and often as you want. And do please want."
"Well, how about a breather first, and getting acquainted? A girl who
keeps a bedside beer cooler is a girl whose sound mind I want to know as
well as her delectable body." Warm and wudgy, she caressed him while he
leaned over to get bottles for them, and stayed in the circle of his
free arm when they leaned back against the pillows.
Too bad this can't be a simple romp for me, he thought. It deserves
that. And by the way, so do 1. Kossara was making chastity come hard.
He savored the chill brisk flavor while his glance roved about. The
resident's lady had a private suite where, she hinted, the resident was
an infrequent caller. This room of it was plushly carpeted, draped,
furnished, in rose and white. An incense stick joined its fragrance to
her own. A dressing table stood crowded with perfumes and cosmetics. Her
garments sheened above his, hastily tossed over a chair. In that
richness, her souvenirs of Home--pictures, bric-a-brac, a stuffed toy
such as she would have given to a child--seemed as oddly pathetic as the
view in the window was grim. Hail dashed against vitryl, thicker and
harder than ever fell on Terra, picked out athwart blue-black
lightning-jumping violence by an ember sunbeam which stabbed through a
rent in the clouds. Past every insulation and heaviness came a ghost of
the wind's clamor.
Kossara ... Yes, Chives is right to fret about her while she struggles
through yonder wildwood.
Susette stroked his cheek. "Why do you look sad all of a sudden?" she
asked.
"Eh?" He started. "How ridiculous. 'Pensive' is the word, my imp. Well,
perhaps a drop of melancholy, recalling how I'll have to leave you and
doubtless never see you again."
She nodded. "Me too. Though are you sure we won't--we can't?"
If I keep any control over events, yes, absolutely! Not that you aren't
likable; but frankly, in public you're a bore. And what if Kossara found
out?
Why should I care?
Well, she might accept my sporting as such. I get the impression hers is
a double-standard society. But I don't believe she'd forgive my
cuckolding a man whose salt I've eaten. To plead I was far from unique
would get me nowhere. To plead military necessity wouldn't help either;
I think she could see (those wave-colored eyes) that I'd have performed
the same service free and enjoyed every microsecond.
Hm. The problem is not how to keep a peccadillo decently veiled in
hypocrisy. The problem is what to do about the fact that I care whether
or not Kossara Vymezal despises me.
"Can't we?" Susette persisted. "The Empire's big, but people get around
in it."
Flandry pulled his attention back to the task on hand. He hugged her,
smiled into her troubled gaze, and said, "Your idea flatters me beyond
reason. I'd s'posed I was a mere escapade."
She flushed. "I supposed the same. But--well--" Defiantly: "I have
others. I guess I always will, till I'm too old. Martin must suspect,
and not care an awful lot. He's nice to me in a kind of absent-minded
way, but he's overworked, and not young, and--you know what I mean.
Diego, Diego Rostovsky, he's been the best. Except I know him inside out
by now, what there is to know. You come in like a fresh breeze--straight
from Home!--and you can talk about things, and make me laugh and feel
good, and--" She leaned hard on him. Her own spare hand wandered. "I'd
never have thought ... you knew right away what I'd like most. Are you a
telepath?"
No, just experienced and imaginative. Aycharaych is the telepath. "Thank
you for your commendation," Flandry said, and clinked his bottle on
hers.
"Then won't you stay a while extra, Ahab, and return afterward?"
"I must go whither the vagaries of war and politics require, amorita.
And believe me, they can be confoundedly vague." Flandry took a long
drink to gain a minute for assembling his next words. "F'r instance, the
secrecy Commander Maspes laid on you forces me to dash on to Sector HQ
as soon's I've given Diomedes a fairly clean bill of health--which I've
about completed. My task demands certain data, you see. Poor
communications again. Maspes tucked you under a blanket prohibition
because he'd no way of knowing I'd come here, and I didn't get a
clearance to lift it because nobody back Home knew he'd been that
ultracautious." If I produced the Imperial writ I do have, that might
give too much away.
Susette's palm stopped on his breast. "Why, your heart's going like a
hammer," she said.
"You do that to a chap," he answered, put down his bottle and gathered
her to him for an elaborate kiss.
Breathlessly, she asked, "You mean if you had the information you
wouldn't be in such a hurry? You could stay longer?"
"I should jolly well hope so," he said, running fingers through her
hair. "But what's the use?" He grinned. "Never mind. In your presence, I
am not prone to talk shop."
"No, wait." She fended him off, a push which was a caress. "What do you
need to know, Ahab?"
"Why--" He measured out his hesitation. "Something you're not allowed to
tell me."
> "But they'd tell you at HQ."
"Oh, yes. This is a miserable technicality."
"All right," Susette said fast. "What is it?"
"You might--" Flandry donned enthusiasm. "Darling! You wouldn't get in
trouble, I swear. No, you'd be expediting the business of the Empire."
She shook her head and giggled. "Uh-uh. Remember, you've got to spend
the time you gain here. Promise?"
"On my honor" as a double agent.
She leaned back again, her beer set aside, hands clasped behind her
neck, enjoying her submission. "Ask me anything."
Flandry faced her, arms wrapped around drawn-up knees. "Mainly, who was
with Maspes? Nonhumans especi'lly. I'd better not spell out the reason.
But consider. No mind can conceive, let alone remember, the planets and
races we've discovered in this tiny offside corner of the solitary
galaxy we've explored a little bit. Infiltration, espionage--such things
have happened before."
She stared. "Wouldn't they check a memory bank?"
Memory banks can have lies put into them, whenever we get a government
many of whose officials can be bought, and later during the confusion of
disputed succession, civil war, and sweeping purges. Those lies can then
wait, never called on and therefore never suspected, till somebody has
need for one of them. "Let's say no system is perfect, 'cept yours for
lovemaking. Terra itself doesn't have a complete, fully updated file.
Regional bitkeepers don't try; and checking back with Terra seldom seems
worth the delay and trouble."
"Gollool" She was more titillated than alarmed. "You mean we might've
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