“This way, my lord,” FitzGreen said, steering us past a trio of fuel depot offices and out a lensing door into a well-worn corridor enameled in dark green and steel gray. “Uh, by the way, pleased to meet you. Hope you enjoyed your journey? I hardly know what to say. We don’t get many nobles coming through, to be honest.”
“In fact, you have two for the price of one,” I said, deliberately wiping off the pout I perceived I was wearing and putting myself out to be cheerful. “My cousin, Lady Jil Loche Nikhorunkorn, and her friends.” I reeled off the names. “If you will steer us to the nearest watering hole with a decent vintage or two in its cellars, I would be very pleased to treat you to a drink on my cousin the Emperor.”
FitzGreen looked torn between excitement and worry.
“Can’t do that, my lord,” he said.
“Why not?” I asked. “Are you not permitted to drink while on duty?”
“No, sir,” he said, taking Jil’s upper arm. “It’s not that. I’ve got to put you into a safe room for the duration of the emergency. I’d be in my office overseeing the event if you hadn’t just arrived.”
“A safe room!” I exclaimed in dismay.
“Yes, your imperiumness. You’ll be very secure in there,” FitzGreen said, in an obvious attempt to be reassuring. “Nothing can get at you.”
As we exited the landing bay, a closed-roof vehicle with multiple paired wheels screeched up. A pair of doors like vertical pincers opened. We were bundled inside, all protesting. The car, whose walls I perceived as being at least a third of a meter thick with armor plating and shock absorption panels, sped off along a curving corridor. After a few kilometers, it screeched to a halt and made a sharp right into a lift column. The car rose on magnetic force created by the gravity generators at the heart of the station. Another screech, and the car exited left onto a new deck.
“Why are there so few ships here now?” I asked. “I was told this was the busiest crossing between the Imperium and the Autocracy.”
“Ah, well, we got lucky,” the station manager said, miming wiping sweat off his brow. “You just missed a convoy leaving a few days ago. Almost twenty got through this time. That’s almost unprecedented since this craziness got started. The ones left are those who got here late, like yourselves, my lord.”
“So why do you think the other ship ran?” Hopeli asked, her big dark eyes wide.
FitzGreen sighed.
“The usual reason’s contraband, ma’am. Here we are, sir. Please, follow the guards. I’ll talk to you when all this is over.”
Two of the dark visors flanked us with lowered weapons. They herded us toward a blank wall festooned with a paper poster advertising a concert. The gyrating forms of the band wielding their instruments loomed toward us. As we approached, the panel slid out of the way, flattening the musicians as the poster passed behind the wall segment to its left. A row of lights went on in the ceiling of the room thus revealed.
“Here, ladies and sir,” the harsh voice of a Croctoid came from beneath the helmet on the right. “Go on in.”
Jil and her friends hurried inside. I turned to make one more attempt to remain free during the emergency, but the door hissed closed in my face.
I turned to survey our prison. FitzGreen had been slightly inaccurate in describing it as a room; it was more of a suite, if utilitarian in design. The main chamber was roomy and well-lit, about the size of a classroom. The blue-gray walls and ceiling had been lined with thick padding, no doubt in case the gravity generators were compromised. The cushiony flooring underfoot was made of similar material. It felt rather like walking inside an underinflated balloon.
The furnishings fulfilled multiple purposes. The couches that lined the walls had been made to be converted to beds in case of lengthy occupation. A number of hinged tables, folded flat, rested in a bracket near the back wall. They were long enough to be used as privacy barriers between the couches. Two doors led off the back of the room, the left to a hygiene chamber, and the right to a food service system. On the whole, it was plain, with little care taken to make it look more than industrial in character.
“I bet your cell was nicer than this,” Sinim said, with a rueful look at me.
“In fact, it was,” I said. “And it did not smell so oppressively of disinfectant.”
But I was glum. I sat down on one of the couches and put my chin in my hand. How could the Rodrigo go off without me? It was my ship, commissioned to me by my mother.
Sinim looked down at me in alarm.
“Oh, Thomas, I am so sorry! I didn’t intend to remind you of your incarceration.”
“Don’t apologize,” I said, waving a hand. “The less said about that, the better. I wasn’t really thinking of that at all.”
“You’re just being brave,” Marquessa said. “I admire that.”
“I’m not, truly,” I protested. “I mean, I can be brave, but that wasn’t something to be brave about. Being thrown in jail takes absolutely no courage whatsoever.”
“Jil, tell Thomas I didn’t mean to upset him,” Sinim said, clutching Jil’s arm.
“It’s my fault,” Jil said. She gave a pretty little shrug. “I didn’t mean to make such fun of you before, Thomas. I was a bit swept off my feet, having Captain Naftil pay such attention to me. He was so nice and handsome. I think it just went to my head.”
“I understand,” I said. “I am not cross with you—at the moment. I should be out there with my ship.” I pointed in a vague direction. I had no idea where the Rodrigo had gone. My admission seemed to take Jil from sympathy to open annoyance.
“Oh, Thomas, how boring,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’re falling into believing yourself a common spacer. You rank acres above all of them. Heroics are so dull. What would you do out there? Catch a criminal? We don’t associate with that kind of scum. It’s unbecoming. If you want to run around after other ships, enter another stratosphere race. Your racing flitter is fabulous.”
“Yes,” Banitra said. “I have watched all your races.” She sat down beside me, her leg against mine. “That tournament around the sun two years ago was so exciting! Tell me how you avoided getting caught in the gravity well. I thought when Lord Rillion knocked your craft on the circuit around the innermost planet that you were going to lose control.”
“Well,” I began, recalling all the details of that race with growing alacrity. It had, after all, been one of my greatest successes. “I had acceleration on my side, you know. I was able to rely upon forward momentum until I could get my bearings again. But it was moment by moment for survival. I almost didn’t make it.”
“I remember that!” Sinim said, sitting down upon my other side. “Didn’t they disqualify Rillion after that?”
“Oh, yes,” I said, the memory full in my mind’s eye. “Ril must have known a disqualification was coming. He drives like that in atmospheric craft, as well. He was one of the racers in the pileup around the Empress’s statue. In fact, he was in the cell next to mine overnight.”
Banitra laughed. “So you are acquiring quite a connoisseur’s eye of jails,” she said.
“You might say so.”
I met her laughing gaze, and was cheered by it. She lowered the lashes over those dark, lovely eyes. I was struck by how attractive she was, and what good company she had been. I admired that she was able to curb Jil’s more extreme habits. Her skills and good nature had made the trip much more bearable than it could have been. I opened my mouth to compliment her. Then, I remembered my cousin Xan’s warning that she and Sinim had been picked out by my great-aunt as marriage prospects for me. Her organizational talents might someday be used on yours very truly. I heaved myself up off the bench and began a fit of manic pacing.
Jil flung herself at full length upon one of the couches.
“How long are we to be locked up in here?” she said, draping a delicate wrist over her eyes. “This is too much like being sent to one’s room by one’s most recent ancestors.”
“We could
play a game,” Marquessa said. “Oh, all our cards are on the ship! Perhaps they have something on the station’s servers.” She pulled down one of the workstations built into the padded bulkheads. A large screen set in the wall behind the console shimmered into life.
“Or you could tell our fortunes,” Hopeli said. She opened up her palm and held it before me. I flung myself back into my pacing.
“I . . . the time isn’t auspicious for readings,” I said. I was still feeling stung about the situation on the Bonchance. Now that I was free to do whatever I wanted, I felt delicate about doing it. Perhaps I had abused my talents. I had a good deal to think about, but all I could concentrate upon was the pursuit going on outside.
“Oh, look!” Marquessa said. “There are dozens of entertainment channels. We can watch a digitavid.”
With a sigh, Jil rose and trailed over to her as if it took all her strength just to stand upright. She leaned over the blonde woman’s shoulder as Marquessa scrolled through the graphics of available programs. I came over for a look, too. I recognized the several children’s programs, nature documentaries, news programs, replays of classic sports events and thousands of feature-length productions, ranging in age and complexity all the way from remastered two-dee programs to the latest tri-dee digitavids. The icons in the corner indicated that those could be viewed in a hundred different languages and dialects.
“Boring,” Jil said, as Marquessa offered show after show. “Dull. Ancient. Oh, tedious. No, I cannot be bothered to watch that again. It was terrible the first time!”
“What a shame,” I said. “But, see, there are numerous music channels available. We could select from one of those.”
“But what else?” Jil asked. “What entertainment can we gain from that?”
“Why, we add conversation, cousin,” I said. “You are very good at that. You can tell me what I missed on the main newsline of the Infogrid today.”
“You can tell us some of your stories, Lord Thomas,” Sinim said, coming up to twine her arm through mine. “I enjoyed your tales on our travels before we met up with the Bonchance. I am sure you have many others.”
It was difficult to detach her from my person without seeming to flinch away.
“To be sure, I do,” I said, escorting her to the nearest couch. I peeled her fingers from my arm and sat down on a settee opposite, well out of reach. “In fact, I have a marvelously funny one that I bet you have never heard. It concerns three government ministers. They went fishing out on the lakes above Taino. It was a very hot day. One of them realizes that they have left their cold drinks on their ground transport vehicle . . . .”
“I’ve heard that one,” Jil moaned. She mooched over to me and looked up into my face. Her large, green eyes wore a sad look. “No, I don’t want one of your stories, Thomas.”
“Then, what?” I asked, desperate to cheer her up. “Charades? Role-play games? I can keep score on my viewpad.”
“No.” A slow smile spread along the corners of her mouth and perked them up into the apples of her cheeks. She poked me gently in the center of my chest with a forefinger. “I will bet you a thousand credits that you have at least the first episode of Ya! on your viewpad.”
I struggled mightily against the truth.
“I do,” I said, with a deep sigh. “Would you all like to watch it with me?”
CHAPTER 24
After a few hours locked in the safe room with five women, I was longing for release. Viewpads are suitable for watching a digitavid in private, or with perhaps one close friend. To arrange it so six people can see it all at the same time is difficult; to create a perfect viewing experience, impossible. As it was a tri-dee, I did my best to enlarge the image as much as possible so it stood off the small screen, but even then it was a little grainy. In the end, I shrank the image until it coalesced properly, but the ladies had to arrange themselves at close quarters to me in order to see it. In the end, Jil huddled at my right and Sinim at my left. Marquessa hovered above my right shoulder, Banitra at the other, and Hopeli, the smallest, sat right in my lap.
“This is cozy,” Sinim said, winding herself into my ribs. If she had been a corkscrew, she would have been attached to me permanently.
In a way, it was worth it. To say that the first episode of any series creaks with newness is not a criticism. The initial program that introduced the galaxy to Ya! was so fresh that none of the sharp corners had yet been rubbed off. The performances were vivid, the scenery fantastic and evocative, and the dialogue punchy and intelligent. I could understand how it had been a “hit” from its first appearance. To see the actors whose faces came to be mounted in images on the walls and mantelpieces of their many-times descendants over the centuries, and even minted on the money of this imaginary Autocracy, gave me a tingle that did not leave me throughout the entire pilot, nor in the subsequent two which we had time to view. By then, both arms and both thighs were numb from lack of movement and constriction of the blood supply, but I was delighted to have both seen the shows and shared them with fellow enthusiasts. Marquessa had not been a fan, but she now vowed to track down as many seasons as possible and watch them.
I declared an end to the video festival after three, to the open disappointment of the ladies, but we continued to discuss them, Jil and I in fluent Uctu. To my surprise, both Banitra and Hopeli both had a working knowledge of the language, and added their comments. It turned out to be a pleasant interlude.
Even when we moved apart to the couches, Sinim stayed glued to me. I moved time and again to put some space between us, but she followed as if I held the oxygen she needed to live. The avid expression on her face increasingly worried me. My aunt had unleashed a Harpy whose claws it was becoming difficult to avoid.
“. . . But Redius thinks that the antecedents of the Calagriti clan are illegitimate,” I pointed out, jumping up from my latest perch just as Sinim sat down upon it. I felt guilty as I beheld her big, sad eyes and pouting lips, but my nerves twitched like frightened mice every time she touched me. “It is his theory that their clan chieftess took credit for the victory over the Daiobi that saved the Paranch province, when the general who actually defeated the Daiobi died of his wounds.”
“Can’t we watch just one more episode?” Jil asked. “Only the fates know when we’ll get out of here.”
“Well, I don’t know,” I said, with a sly glance in her direction.
“Oh, please, Thomas!” Banitra said.
“I suppose . . . ,” I began.
At that moment, I felt a tremendous force hit me from beneath. Helplessly, I found myself flying upward, my limbs flailing.
Those who are caught in the web of circumstances will tell you that time seems to slow down. I can attest that to be absolutely true. The boom that had accompanied the thrust echoed in my ears and my chest like the primal sound of the universe exploding. All around me, the ladies in their light, floaty dresses lifted into the air as though borne by unseen hands.
Just as swiftly, time returned to its ordinary pace. My arms and legs windmilled as I attempted to right myself before falling toward the floor.
“Relax!” Hopeli shouted. “Relax or you’ll break something!”
To my amazement, my limbs obeyed my order. I dropped to the padded floor like a marionette whose strings had been severed. My head bounced twice more, as though to reassure itself it had actually landed. At first, the shock prevented me from feeling the impact, but in seconds, the aches radiated through my body, especially at the back of my skull. Resisting the urge to groan, I pulled myself upright to assist Jil and her friends. Then, I ran to the door.
I found the control panel and flipped up the emergency release. I palmed the large blue button. The door did not open. I hit the button again, then struck the door with my other hand.
“Please open,” I said. “I need to obtain assistance.”
“Please remain in this room until the temporary crisis has resolved,” the door said, in reproachful tones. “This portal will
be released on orders from the office of the station manager.”
“What happened out there to cause the percussive explosion?” I asked.
“A ship has crashed into the station at Loop Four,” a voice said, as a brilliant white light scanned up and down my torso. “It happens occasionally, in spite of pilot instructions to take care upon approach. Please remain where you are.”
“My ship?” I cried, leaping up.
“My clothes!” Jil exclaimed, horror hollowing her cheeks. “And my jewelery! I borrowed Mother’s emerald tiara. She will skin me if it comes back in pieces! Oh, Thomas, you have to find out if it is our ship that crashed!”
“Of course, dear cousin,” I said. I returned to the door panel. “Lieutenant Thomas Innes Kinago of the Rodrigo. I must inquire as to the well being of my ship.”
“On whose authority?” it asked.
I presented my viewpad. “I know you can speak to all the ships in range,” I said. “Please contact LAI designation NG-903, and ask if I am not part of the contingent of that ship.”
It took only a moment for the connection to be made.
“Lord Thomas?”
“Angie, is that you?” I asked. “Where are you? What has happened? I heard there was a collision.”
“Lord Thomas,” Angie’s voice came through the speaker of my viewpad. “The Rodrigo pursued the fugitive vessel out toward quadrant N-18, but it doubled back and crashed into the space station.”
“Is anyone hurt?”
“Negative aboard Rodrigo. Please remain where you are until further notice.” My heart sank. I had to free myself from durance vile. I was terrified that at any moment, either of the ladies would decide I had accidentally asked one of them to marry me, and my cousin, in her endless quest to torment me, might agree that I had done so. A brief pause ensued. “I have been corrected, Lord Thomas. Please make your way to Landing Bay Delta 47m.”
Fortunes of the Imperium - eARC Page 27