Rhythm of the Imperium - eARC

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “Not all gathered,” said Kolchut Redius, an Uctu who was a member of my crew and possibly my best friend in the galaxy. His people rather resembled the Earth lizards called geckos, though they were human size, and their skin was coral pink with some blue scales here and there instead of green. He turned up a hand and wiggled his spatulate fingertips. “Some symbols lacking.”

  “Really?” I asked, feeling my eyebrows climb high upon my brow. “What did I fail to include?”

  “Deeper meaning,” Redius replied, dropping his narrow mandible in a humorous grin. “Mere description too simplistic.”

  “Well, what I did present seems to be too much for the audience I have at the moment,” I said, with a pointed look at my cousins.

  “Perhaps we can look at it as a game of charades,” Xan said, lying back lazily and signaling for a refill. “Look, you do another one, and we’ll try to guess what it is you are trying to get across.”

  “Later,” I said. I swallowed. My throat was dry and scratchy from my exertions. “I’m parched.” I waved to a different rude mechanical, which trundled toward me with its drinks tray elevated. “Alas,” I bemoaned, as I settled back in the chaise longue with a cup of wine, “no one appreciates art these days.”

  “We all admire art,” said my cousin Nalney, his broad, swarthy face widened still further with a grin. “Too bad my brother Nole isn’t here! He loves to go to all the museums and stare at dusty displays. At least you move about a bit.”

  A bit was rather insulting, as I had flung myself hither and yon in my attempts to share the dying light over the continent that cradled the Imperium Compound, our palatial home. Still, Nalney was right. Nole would have had some interesting if not intelligent musings upon my skill. It was a pity he hadn’t joined us, but he had been busy furnishing his new residence ship, a project that had taken up all his attention and disposable income for the last two years. In spite of hints and downright espionage on the part of me and my cousins, no details about the vessel had been forthcoming.

  “Is there any mystical significance to your motions?” Erita asked, with a meaningful lift of her eyebrows.

  I waved a dismissive hand.

  “That’s so three weeks ago,” I said. “I had debunked so many superstitions by the time we returned from Nacer that there weren’t enough fun ones left to examine. Another time.”

  Which, functionally, to me meant never. When I took up an enthusiasm, I embraced it with my whole person, all my time and attention and not a small amount of money. When I ceased to be enthusiastic, I tended to put away all the trappings. I always meant to go back to them, but there was always something newer and more fascinating with which I could become involved.

  “Oh, I meant to mention, Thomas,” Jil began, leaning toward me. “I went to visit Uncle Rodrigo yesterday. I think he knew who I was, but perhaps he thought I was my mother. He was very sweet. He gave me this pendant.” She displayed an exquisitely wrought teardrop-shaped jewel of platinum and gold with a scattering of brilliant green gems fixed here and there that hung on a chain around her slender neck. “He sounded fine until he mentioned having just visited with Uncle Laurence. Is he getting worse?”

  I hesitated before I answered. My father, for whom I had named my scout ship, was a decorated war hero whose health had been catastrophically affected by his experiences. He frequently spoke to people who were not there, especially his younger brother, who was off on some nebulous expedition or other. In any case, I know Uncle Laurence wasn’t on Keinolt, though Father frequently hallucinated that he was.

  Father’s condition was a sore spot with me, as my cousins knew and were solicitious of. I had been the subject of some badinage during my school days over a visit he made during which he accused my mathematics professor of being some kind of nefarious criminal. While I agreed with him to an extent, particularly regarding the heinous character of that teacher’s pop quizzes, some of my fellow students, not my cousins but some rich incomers who thought that their fortunes elevated them to an equal rank with us nobles and who were sadly mistaken, found an impaired parent to be a figure of fun. It was that day that I discovered the school had a policy of punishing those students who challenged other students to a duel to the death on matters of honor. Ah, well, one day I would find those harassers and make such cutting remarks to them that they would drop dead on the spot from mortification, without needing to resort to physical weaponry. It was not so much a matter of my own honor, but my father’s, for which I would willingly die.

  “What compelled you to learn to fling yourself about?” Erita asked. “Your dance, if I may term it such, looks absolutely exhausting. Why exert yourself in such a fashion?”

  “Interpretive dance,” I said, warming to my topic with practiced ease, “is a marvelous art form. I saw a fascinating documentary on primitive cultures that tell stories through the movement of their bodies. Language, choices, symbolism. Since we are going to see a Zang demonstration, and their form of communication is notoriously difficult for younger races to comprehend, I thought I would gain insight into them with the use of body language. I undertook a study of numerous cultures, including many of our ancestral tribes, as well as those of other races, like our Uctu friends.” Here I nodded to Redius, who wrinkled his nose in his people’s substitute for sticking out one’s tongue or making a ruder gesture. “You see? Gestures and motions have profound meaning that it would serve us well to learn and possibly emulate. I rest my case.”

  Lieutenant Carissa Plet rose from her place and set her glass aside. The tall, thin blonde human was the nominal head of the Rodrigo’s crew, though I was its actual commander, owing to my noble rank.

  “Thank you for allowing us to be present, sir,” she said, fixing me with the keen gaze I had come to know and respect, if not love. “It was most educational. We must return to our other duties now.”

  “Must you go?” I asked. I glanced back at my cousins, all of whom had abandoned any further interest in my performance. I offered her a hopeful look. “Do you require my presence for any of these duties?”

  “No, sir.” Did I detect a hint of relief in that flat statement? Her countenance, which was nearly as capable of a stony expressionlessness as my aide-de-camp Parsons, gave me no clue. I tried to read her posture, based upon my new studies, and found little nourishment to my hunger for knowledge.

  I sighed.

  “Very well, then. We will meet again for the evening meal.”

  “No, sir,” Plet said again, this time with open finality. “We’ll take mess in the crew’s wardroom from here on out with the other adjunct personnel. The First Space Lord’s orders.”

  For that I had no answer, since the official in question was my own cherished maternal unit. Challenging Mother’s authority had landed me in trouble all of my life. She ruled our family as she did the Imperium’s space navy, with wisdom, discipline and remarkable affection. There was no need for me to court further opprobrium. Added to that was the fact that no matter how much I wheedled, Plet was unlikely to give in to my importunings. She was remarkably tone deaf to them.

  “Oh, very well,” I said, disappointed. “You won’t take it amiss if I visit with you during off-shifts?”

  “No, sir,” Plet replied, albeit not with any enthusiasm. “Crew, dismiss.”

  “Aye, sir!” the others chorused. They saluted her, and me, and left the entertainment center. Plet hesitated, Her full lips pressed together, and she gave me what I could only classify as a speculative look. She seemed about to impart some further information to me, but thought better of it, and departed. I wished I could read the meaning of her gestures, but had to remain unsatisfied.

  “Oh, Thomas,” Erita said petulantly, as I sat down and raised my wine glass to my family members. “I thought you would have grown tired of playing soldier by now.”

  “Not yet,” I said, with a cheerful wave of my hand. “There’s still a bit more fun to be gleaned from it. After all, I do have my own ship. That’s a no
velty that will take a while to wear off.”

  “But it’s so dowdy,” Jil said. “The Rodrigo is still furnished as a purely military vessel, and that is so tedious. We all had to do the mandatory two years in academy. I wanted to put mine as far into my forgotten memories as possible. You seem to revel in all the trappings!”

  “It is occasionally useful,” I said, choosing my words carefully so as not to arouse suspicions that I indeed remained an integral part of the crew of the Rodrigo and its occasional official missions, “to interact with the plebeian majority. One should retain the means of communicating with them, even if one doesn’t associate with them at other times.”

  Jil made a face.

  “Oh, I suppose so! To be honest, Thomas, I had my fill of rules and regulations on our way to and from the Autocracy. I almost felt as though I was under orders again!”

  “Jil, you never followed a single order, within or without the academy,” I pointed out. “Suggestions, pleas, begging, even wailing at your heels was scarcely sufficient to persuade you to undertake anything but at your own whim.”

  “Yes,” Jil said, pleased at the recollection. “That is true.”

  An ache arising in my muscles reminded me then that I had been exercising more than my vocal chords, and my keen nose informed me that I might be giving inadvertent offense to my nearest and dearest. Not only that, but I had promised Parsons I would communicate with him in the hours before dinner.

  I rose.

  “Do excuse me for a time, won’t you?” I asked. “I think I will freshen up.”

  I removed myself from the day room.

  CHAPTER 2

  My quarters, as did those of each of my cousins, consisted of a suite of several small rooms around the circular third deck of the Jaunter. Whereas in the Imperium Compound in Taino, those personal suites might comprise anything from a single room to a small estate covering acres, here they were uniform in size. The cozy reception room of my cabin, as I was pleased to call it, featured a large, comfortable chair, a floor-to-ceiling looking glass, and a long, low shelf to my right hand, suitable for flinging whatever I might be carrying. The shelf was unoccupied upon my arrival, but the chair was not. As I entered, the inhabitant of the seat rose. The familiar form, some centimeters taller than my own lofty height, his frame muscular yet whipcord fit, epicene chin shaved to perfection, with shining black hair and eyes as dark as the mysteries behind them, clad in self-effacing black from collar to heels, stood at attention to welcome me. This person was my aide-de-camp, overseer, intermediary and functionary of other useful undertakings too numerous to mention. He occupied the naval rank of commander, with several other titles, I was certain, to supplement that of an agent, no doubt high-ranking, in our Covert Services. He had been my mentor nearly all of my life.

  “Parsons!” I exclaimed. I threw myself into an attitude of welcome that I had devised, including a gesture of offering with both hands energy that poured from my heart, and concluded with a bow that brought my chin to the floor. There was just room in the chamber to accommodate this gesture without upending my visitor. “I am overjoyed to see you. I was prepared to seek you out in the lower levels of this vessel.”

  “I thought it better,” that worthy replied, “to save you the effort, my lord.”

  “The soul of consideration,” I said, beaming at him. I rose to my feet. “Would it discomfit you if I tidied myself and changed clothes while we conversed?” I sniffed, and winced at the resulting olfactory input. “I’m afraid that I may not be perfectly fit for polite society at the moment.”

  “Not at all, my lord,” he replied. “The sonic shower will deter any potential eavesdroppers who might be listening.”

  I wrinkled my nose, an expression not unlike that of Redius, but with a more human interpretation: disappointment. “I had hoped to enjoy a bath. This suite’s tub has a remarkable heating unit that maintains the temperature at my preference for hours, and a shape that is designed to contain my entire person from the neck down. I don’t have to put the dome on it while the gravity generators are functioning. And don’t you have a small gadget that fulfills that task of providing private discourse?”

  His face never changed expression, yet I could tell I had hit upon a sore point.

  “I await the delivery of an upgrade to the programming of that device, my lord. Although I will deploy my ‘gadget,’ as you call it, I have received notification within the last hour that its encoding mechanism has been compromised. Hence, it would be more efficacious to use two devices in tandem.”

  “Oh, very well,” I said. “Come on through.” I retired to the bedroom and retreated behind the opaque screen that stood between the boudoir and the bathing area. The latter had been constructed from one single piece of high-impact ceramic, but had been decorated in stellarscapes by a galaxy-famous artist who enjoyed a patronage from the Imperium. I had employed her skills myself in a gift I had had made for my mother’s next birthday: a small glass sculpture that emitted dancing light in the deep-blue wavelength of her formal naval uniform. I would present it at the conclusion of a new performance I had been choreographing just for that occasion, three days after our scheduled return from the coming spectacle.

  I flipped on the switch that activated the cylindrical cleansing booth. An audible hum arose from its interior, indicating that the sonic scrubbers were ready. I stripped off my leotard and deposited it into the collection bin that would be policed by the LAI valet assigned to my suite. In fact, NA-836n was alerted to the presence of dirty clothes and trundled over to retrieve them. “Pray help yourself to refreshments. I have chilled some sparkling raspberry wine from the north provinces that you will find cleansing to the palate as well as pleasing to the nose, and some sesame-basil biscuits that only add delight to the experience. Anna, do help him to a glass.”

  “Yes, Lieutenant Lord Thomas.”

  I heard NA-836n roll across the carpeted floor plates toward the buffet bar at the side of the sitting room. I raised my voice to be heard over the rumble.

  “I am a trifle surprised that you came along on what is an extended pleasure cruise, Parsons. My cousins took it as a natural compliment to our rank and collective presence upon one ship that we should receive a protective escort. We are honored and a trifle surprised to have such an enormous military guard as two rather large ships that could be out patrolling the exoplanets, but the presence of the crew of my dear Rodrigo tells me that there is more afoot than protecting the Emperor’s relations.”

  Parsons was silent for a moment. I knew it was not to collect his thoughts; his mental processes were eternally vigilant. Stray musings would receive a demerit and punishment duty. I stepped into the booth, leaving the door open so we could continue to converse. The excited sonic waves assaulted my skin.

  “There is a very good reason, my lord. Several, in fact. What do you know about the Kail?”

  In spite of the warmth of the shower, I felt a chill go down my spine.

  “The stuff of nightmares,” I said, applying the bay-scented surfactant spray to my skin. It tingled through to my inner soul. I shivered, wondering if it would be worthwhile to construct a dance around bathing. There were so many interpretations one could put upon cleanliness. “Ugly creatures. They look as if they were badly carved out of rough, gray stone by a disinterested sculptor. The one I met in a trading station had four stumpy legs and one arm with about nine thick, clumsy fingers. It acted as if it hated me just because I wasn’t of its species, or perhaps because I was of a more appealing shape. I tried not to take it personally.”

  “It wasn’t personal, my lord. They do despise all carbon-based life-forms. They would have treated a rosebush with the same disdain.”

  I reached for the depilation wand and ran it over my cheeks, chin and neck. The hairs that had grown a fraction of a millimeter over the last few hours shivered into insubstantiality and dissolved away with the rest of my discarded skin cells.

  “I had heard a whisper that som
e Kail are coming to the spectacle. Naturally, I hoped that the rumor was wrong. It isn’t, is it?”

  “No, sir. It is not.”

  “I have choreographed a short routine that shows my misgivings about the Kail. Would you like to see it when I have finished my shower?” I offered hopefully.

  “Definitely not, my lord.” The statement brooked no disagreement.

  I mused as I turned amid the hundreds of sonic jets, feeling them vibrate my skin clean. The sensation refreshed me, though a bath would have been more relaxing to my muscles. My left shoulder was sore. I moved it closer to one of the emitters and was rewarded as the throbbing eased. I made a note to myself never in future to do a side flip landing on one hand on a rug that was not affixed to the floor.

  “How many of them are coming?” I inquired.

  “The intelligence I have received does not specify. The Kail, as you are no doubt aware, are secretive and untrusting of all outsiders. They do not commit their plans to any form of documentation as do those of the Imperium and the Autocracy, or even the Trade Federation. What inquiries they do make of the Infogrid are carefully camouflaged among thousands of other searches so our agents and programs find it difficult to discern which search is legitimate.”

  “It all seems unnecessarily obtuse to me,” I opined. We of the Imperium were necessarily open and forthcoming to the electronic frontier. It was a matter of law to keep one’s Infogrid file updated. I had posted digitavids of myself performing a routine displaying delight and curiosity about our present journey, to mixed reviews, alas. “But why are they coming, if they know they are going to interact with such terrible creatures as humans? Why not stay mewed up in their bizarre culture and eschew contact?”

  “They were invited by the Emperor,” Parsons said. I had to stop what I was doing to allow this fact to permeate my consciousness.

  “They were? Why would he do that? He isn’t coming to the spectacle.”