“Am I that unattractive, Major?”
“I believe you mentioned a walk.” He stood.
“I did. The main garden would be nice, if you don’t mind, the one by the biology quad.”
“Lead on, Ecolitan Andruz.”
Neither said anything until they had entered the garden and taken the second path to the left, which led toward a bench surrounded by a low hedge on three sides and shaded by a large evergreen.
Jimjoy glanced upward.
“Silft…native. This bench is proofed for conversation. Have a seat, Major.”
Jimjoy raised his eyebrows, but followed her directions. Thelina seated herself next to him, as closely as he could have wished under other circumstances.
“Look toward that building. See the lack of focus?”
Jimjoy nodded. Obviously the raised hillock on which rested tree, hedge, and bench contained more than mere earth.
“Why don’t you trust the Empire? And why should we help you, assuming we could? Specifics, please, Major.”
He took a deep breath before starting. “Simple. My cover was broadcast to every outsystem agent possible. Commander…the agent at the hotel…were clearly after me. If I leave on any recognized transport, there’s no way I can count on recognizing my own assassin. You and your people are clearly able to track me anywhere and keep me from getting off-planet without your consent.”
Jimjoy shrugged. “And if I tried to stay here, the Empire would put pressure on you. Insist that you send me back on a planned schedule, during which I would meet some sort of unfortunate accident. If you stood up to them directly…that gives them an excuse to come down hard, say with three or four fleets.
“Doesn’t leave you many options. Odds are that if anything happens to me, and that’s exactly what the Service wants, they’ll tag you with it. I’d like to stay in one piece. You’d like that, too—professionally, at least. That means I have to get off-planet and to a location where I can show up so visibly that the Empire has a problem with me, not with you.”
Thelina looked straight ahead, not meeting his eyes. “This one time, Major, I agree with your logic and all your conclusions. You did forget one option.”
“My death here by doing something wrong? No…that would still get me out of the Empire’s hair and allow them to use me as a martyr and a cause to move against you.”
“That was not what I had in mind. What if you stayed here, at least for a few weeks longer, then suddenly appeared back at your original duty station?”
“Some risk for the ‘local’ Major Wright, isn’t there?”
“Not if he stays at the Institute.”
Jimjoy grinned at the thought of confounding Commander Hersnik.
“What do we get from it, Major?” The Ecolitan’s voice was soft but cool.
“What do you want? Editing rights to my report? Future information? My gratitude? Mutual survival? Those are the options, but my chances for future information and long-term survival are slim.”
“They’re probably nonexistent.” Her voice was flat.
“Where there’s life…”
“I suppose so. You don’t offer much.”
“Editing my report…”
“Major, we would only edit your report to point out factual errors. Frankly, we want it to be as complete and accurate as possible. That is one reason why we would prefer to keep you in good standing, officially, until someone in authority actually reads it.” She paused, then added, “That’s because the rumors about us are far more deadly than the facts.”
And more true, probably, thought the Major, not vocalizing the thought.
“That should do it,” concluded Thelina. “Now, put your arm around me for a moment, as if we’re about to say good-bye. A bit more affectionately, Major. There will be some speculation as to why we’re seen together, and we need to give the gossips the right flavor. You were right about that also.”
Jimjoy put his arm around her, as requested, and leaned toward her, although he could feel his eyebrows raised in question.
“How else can I see you? Especially after hours. Everyone will think you’ve made another conquest, Major.”
He could feel himself blushing, and resenting it. She leaned into his arm, briefly resting her head against his. Just as he was beginning to enjoy the feeling, she sat up and looked at her wrist.
“I’ll be late, again.” Her lips brushed his cheek, and she was gone, leaving him standing by the bench.
He did not shake his head, but he wondered if he had actually had his arm around her.
XXVII
“HOW LONG DO we wait?”
“You just arrived back. His orders give him up to six standard months. The idea was to let him hang himself. Besides, we still don’t have a report from our contact at the Institute.”
“That could be a problem. You may not.”
“Definitely a possibility, since they clearly know at least one of our contacts. But better one we’re allowed than none.”
“And you stand for that?”
“You have a better idea? Besides our current operation to force them into the open?”
“You should have sent Wright after them the way he did the Halstanis. Either way, we would have gained something.”
“You are rather impatient. Remember, the Emperor and the Senate both frown on blowing up our own colonies. Or have you forgotten that small fact? Besides, Wright was never trained in espionage. Subtle as an old-style cruiser, and he’s certainly bound to make mistakes. They don’t forgive easily.”
“Do we really know that?”
“No.” He paused. “But do you have any other explanations for the disappearances? And our inability to plant anyone they don’t want planted?”
“Perhaps you picked the wrong people?”
“Wrong people…perhaps. Speaking of which, how did you lose the other half of your team? Again, I might add?”
“Wright shot him.”
“No. Better to claim they shot him. Wright was probably looking for you.”
“You know me too well.”
“All too well, my friend. All too well. And how will you report the incident?”
“As you suggested. Reconnaissance disrupted by unknown agents, presumably attached to the underground rebel force associated with the Institute. You’ll have to explain the need for reconnaissance.”
“Unfortunately…unfortunately. Is there any way our contact could be persuaded to goad Wright into action? His actions are always so drastic we could probably recoup everything.”
“I’ve suggested that, but no response. And what happens if Wright goes over to the rebels?”
“Then we can move. Claim he was either killed or reconditioned, and that he was destroyed uncovering the rebellion. Get rid of him and them.”
“Why bother?”
“You’re asking that?”
“Outside of the personal thing, I meant. It would be years before the Institute would be a threat, if ever.”
“I wish that were true.”
“Then the rumors are true.”
“It’s time for you to file your report. And make sure it’s filed correctly, especially this time.”
“Don’t I always?”
XXVIII
JIMJOY STOOD UP from the table where he had eaten alone. The unmarked Ecolitan greens offered no real protective coloration, although he continued to ignore the low comments from the young man with brown hair seated beside a darker-haired history and moral-philosophy instructor and an older professor.
After glancing absently around the room, Jimjoy flexed his shoulders and walked toward the trio, looking beyond them toward the garden. As he neared the table, he glanced down, casually letting his eyes take in the two Ecolitans and the apprentice.
“Oh, good day, Temmilan, apprentice Dorfman. And you, too, Professor Firion.” His voice was pleasantly false, as he had meant it to be.
“Good day, Major,” responded Temmilan.
Dor
fman did not meet Jimjoy’s eyes, instead looked away.
“A very pleasant day, indeed,” observed the graying Sergei Firion.
“Yes, it is. A day for cheerful quiet.” Jimjoy paused briefly, then added, “Once you said something about friendship being able to rest in quiet, and I questioned that. Now I find, rather surprisingly, that I agree with Temmilan’s original assessment.”
“My, you’re such a quick convert.” Temmilan’s voice was only slightly warmer than glacial ice.
“We Imperials have no moral philosophy and can be converted quickly.” He laughed softly and concluded, “And sometimes we even stay converted.” He paused again, then added, “Have a pleasant day.” But before he could turn to leave, he found his right arm engaged by a silver-haired woman.
“Major Wright.” Despite the formality of the salutation, the words sounded warmer. Much warmer.
Thelina squeezed his upper arm gently before releasing her grip.
“Thel—Ecolitan Andruz.” He inclined his head to her.
“He’s still rather formal, don’t you think, Temmilan?” Thelina Andruz smiled brightly at the two historians and the apprentice.
“Rather.”
Thelina turned her bright smile on the Imperial Major. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it in time for lunch, but I do have a few moments. Shall we go?”
“Nice to see you all,” Jimjoy said warmly as he nodded to the historians and left with the silver-haired Ecolitan, who had reasserted her grip on his arm.
“You have such a way with words, Major.”
“Thank you so much.”
The two walked out of the staff area arm in arm. Jimjoy could not resist a grin, even though he knew the scene was a charade.
“The main garden, or somewhere else?”
“Have you seen the small formal garden?”
“No. Don’t even know which one it is.”
“Then you should, Major. You certainly should. How else could you bring back an accurate picture of the Institute and what it stands for?”
“Guess I couldn’t.”
“You are absolutely correct this time. You couldn’t.”
He winced at the emphasis in her statement.
Thelina disengaged her arm from his and reached for the door before he could.
“Don’t you let a poor Imperial do anything by himself?” Even as he walked through the open door and the words tumbled out, he shook his head.
Thelina was silent. Jimjoy glanced back at her as she let go of the doorway.
In turn, she was shaking her head.
“I know. I know. It’s a good thing I don’t have to operate just on words.”
She nodded in agreement with a solemn smile and stepped back beside him. She did not take his arm. “Take the left walkway.”
“Left it is.” He decided against offering any more statements. With Thelina, every time he opened his mouth, he seemed to swallow either his tongue or his boots.
Less than ten meters from the doorway, they stepped out from under the covered walkway onto a path with rectangular gray stones which curved in a gentle arc beyond the edge of the nearest academic building, the one that housed the library where Jimjoy had spent more than a few hours wrestling with the Institute’s datanet and finding out more than he suspected the Ecolitans would have liked, for all their professions of openness.
Thelina’s steps were unhurried, forcing Jimjoy to slow his pace.
“We are not on a field march, Major. You should enjoy the scenery, especially the garden. It’s close to a replica of the more famous English formal gardens.”
“An Anglish garden? Generally a replica?”
“English was the way it was most properly pronounced. And generally a replica because there have been no gardens there for some time.” She paused before continuing. “There. The bushes—they should properly be boxwoods, at least chest-high. But boxwoods do not grow well here, if at all. So we have used a dwarf delft on the outer hedges and even lower smallwood on the inside.”
“Which path?” he asked as they entered the green chest-high maze. Jimjoy could see that the inner part of the maze consisted of bushes less than waist-high.
“Whichever you wish. There are benches on either side, and this is a symmetrical pattern.”
In time they reached a bench, partly concealed, resting on four of the gray paving stones, with the delft on three sides, and a narrow single-stone-width path from the main path to the bench.
Jimjoy started to step across the grass.
“You could take the path, just for the sake of form.”
He glanced across to see her smiling gently and brushing a stray wisp of silver over her left ear. Her hair was again twisted up on the back of her head.
“Still long?” His eyes took in the wound silver, which seemed to glint, almost haloing her face, despite the afternoon overcast and the absence of direct sunlight.
“So far, Major. I probably will get around to cutting it one of these days, assuming that I remain here for more than home leave.”
He raised his eyebrows. A training slot counted as leave.
“The Empire seems to feel that short-haired women are automatically from Halston or Accord. Who needs that kind of attention on field duty?”
That made an unfortunate kind of sense, Jimjoy reflected. He followed her suggestion and walked the curving spiral of stones behind her, putting each foot in the middle of a slate-gray stone and taking a good dozen extra steps to get to the smooth wooden bench.
The bench itself was typical of Accord, smoothly and finely finished, with a high back and with each slat grooved into place.
Jimjoy saw neither bolts nor nails, but only the smoothed traces of well-fitted pegs.
Did the Accordans carry everything to the extreme craft he saw at the Institute? Harmony had certainly looked much the same. Was anything done quickly or without precision and care?
“Why the frown?”
“Just…thinking,” he murmured.
Thelina gestured toward the space beside her as she sat down. “Might as well sit down and tell me, Major.”
Jimjoy sat.
“Closer. You’d think we were strangers, and we certainly aren’t that, Major. Are we?”
Jimjoy sat down, puzzled because there was no edge to her statement. Neither was her tone inviting. She had merely stated a fact.
“What were you thinking about?”
“About the degree of craft that goes into everything, even wooden benches.”
“You find craftsmanship unusual?”
Jimjoy laid his arm across the back of the bench, above her shoulders but not actually touching her, and leaned slightly closer, as if the conversation were more intimate than it was certain to be.
“Not craftsmanship. Seen nothing here without it. Not sure all things are worth doing well.”
“There’s a difference between actions and objects, Major. You seem to value the reverse, faulting yourself when your actions are not perfect. Yet you say not all actions need to be done well. If you spend the time to create something, shouldn’t it be made honestly and well? Not elaborately, but honestly and well?”
“You may be right. Hadn’t considered that distinction.”
“You’re remarkably open-minded when you’re not on the defensive.”
“Could be. Seems a few people here want me on the defensive.”
Thelina turned in toward him, touched his right shoulder with her left hand, and brushed his cheek with her lips. The semi-kiss, without emotion, was followed by an announcement lower than a whisper. “This is not shielded, but we’re making arrangements. We’ll be eloping some night in the next week when I visit you.”
He leaned closer to her. “Then why here?”
“Why not?” her voice was louder, soft but carrying. “Everyone knows about us.”
Jimjoy brought his other arm up, holding her loosely. He felt awkward.
“You’re blushing, Major.”
He was, h
e knew, and tried to refocus the conversation before he really got in over his head. More over his head, he corrected himself.
“What can I say?”
“Nothing, Major. Your intentions are completely and totally transparent.”
Jimjoy wrenched his thoughts back to what had been bothering him earlier.
“Historian…has to be working for Allen…has to be…”
Jimjoy kept his voice as low as he could, and his arms around Thelina, who felt as responsive as a mannikin, though warmer.
She turned as if to nibble his ear, whispering back, “I can hear you. So can anyone with a directional cone. Who’s Allen?”
He tried to keep his voice even softer. “Man who got away…first day here…Commander…Special Op…”
“Cold,” she said, half aloud.
“I agree,” he answered, not agreeing with anything.
“Why don’t you like her?” Thelina moved away from Jimjoy and her question was asked in a normal tone of voice.
He let his arm drop away and shifted his weight. “Too forward. Too obvious.”
“Remind me to avoid that pitfall, Major.”
“Now we’re back to being formal?”
“I’m only allowed so much off-duty time, Major.”
Jimjoy shifted his weight totally away from her, stretched his shoulders with a shrugging gesture, and stood up beside the bench. He looked around the garden.
“Well, shouldn’t keep you for too long.” He kept the puzzled look off his face, though he wondered why Thelina had taken his comments about Temmilan with so little reaction.
She turned on the wooden bench to follow his movement without standing up. Her green eyes focused on him and seemed to sharpen. “You’re right, Major. It’s time for me to get back to work, and time for you to get back to view any of those classes you missed. You have a lot left to cover, I’m sure.”
He nodded. “Always learning something new. Hard to tell what you people don’t already know, though. Some things don’t surprise you at all. Almost as if you already knew it all and hadn’t bothered to let anyone know.”
She shook her head as she in turn stretched and stood up. “No. You know military skills and tactics far better than we do. Kerin told me about your little exhibition. You weren’t just impressive, she said. You awed a woman who’s never impressed, especially by men.”
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