Fortunes of the Imperium (18 page)
Read Fortunes of the Imperium Online
Authors: Jody Lynn Nye
Tags: #Fiction, #science fiction, #General, #Action & Adventure, #Space Opera
With my cabin door sealed firmly behind me for privacy, I activated the communications console embedded in the top of the desk, and requested a download of my personal messages.
Interleaved beneath my comments on my studies to date, I found some insulting messages from my cousins, as I would have expected, but some responses, from noted scholars as well as numerous laypeople, consisted of high praise bordering on reverence. The saccharine tenor of those was, thankfully, balanced by two tart rejoinders from fellow debunkers of the occult. They, of all the readers of my essays and musings, saw what I was doing: an investigation of personalities rather than occult divination. I was pleased. I replied to several, recorded a fleering message to my cousins with sound effects and a derisive graphic, and wrote a detailed description of my most recent findings.
Having disposed of the professional, I turned to personal messages. My mother’s personal secretary, Admiral Leven Draco, whom I had grown up knowing as an auxiliary uncle, had forwarded my mother’s compliments. I knew what that meant. I was able to reassure Uncle Lev that my sojourn aboard the
Bonchance
had heretofore been uneventful. I even hinted that she would be proud of my accomplishments aboard. I sent it off with a clear conscience.
One of the message lines was marked, “Urgent! Read at once!” The print flashed and danced so it would be impossible to ignore. Concerned, I opened it. It was from Sinim.
“Please delete Lady Jil’s message of two shifts ago,” her note read. “I sent it to you by mistake. Please don’t be mad. Don’t read it. Thanks, Lord Thomas.”
Mad? I raised my eyebrows. I didn’t see why anything that my cousin wrote would anger me. But I also could not possibly let it go unread.
“Search ‘Jil,’” I told the comm unit.
Immediately, the mass of messages scrolled down a few hundred to my cousin’s unmistakable signature line, filled with flourishes, emoticons and graphics.
As a result of my growing popularity over the last several days, Jil and her friends had barely spoken to me. I believed that my dear cousin was jealous of the attention I was getting. I had to admit that the adulation rather made up for being banished from the captain’s table. In some cases, quantity was rather more appealing than quality.
Jil’s message, couched in the flowery terms of official diplomatic language—I sensed Banitra’s fine hand here, since Jil never could be bothered to learn the syntax—invited the captain and senior officers, indicated by name and rank, to an intimate little party to thank them for the courtesy that she and her company of friends had been shown. This putative soiree would be held in the hydroponics garden.
I glanced at the chronometer in the upper corner of the large screen, and discovered that it was scheduled to begin within the next hour. My name had been included in the list of invitees, but some attempt had been made to scrub it out after the message was sent to me.
I frowned. I was a little hurt not to be invited, but it didn’t bother me overmuch. Jil had the right to amuse herself as she pleased, as long as she didn’t interfere with our mission, or my own fun. I had the time to dress and go up to the event. Perhaps I would. Jil should know that her mistakes were as open to exploitation as mine were. As I was about to rise from the console, a musical feminine voice came over the intraship network.
“Lord Thomas!”
I put a name to the vocal tone.
“Angie, is that you?”
“Yes, my lord,” she said.
“What may I do for you?” I asked, pleased. By their nature of constant connectedness through electronic media, LAIs were not limited to ordinary messaging systems. They were capable of interrupting ongoing streams or, indeed, communicating via paths not usually used for vocal transmission. They had been programmed to be considerate of the frailties of lesser beings such as humans with regard to sleeping times or work shifts. “Are you enjoying your interaction with the ship’s artificial intelligences? Some of them are very interesting people.”
“My visit has been fruitful thus far, Lord Thomas,” she replied. “I have many new acquaintances with whom I will be pleased to correspond in future. I have invaded your privacy because I have an urgent piece of information to give you.”
“Urgent?” I echoed. “Is it from Parsons?”
“No, sir. I hope you will not find it too difficult to accept.”
I became alarmed. “Well, out with it, Angie. Bad news doesn’t improve by keeping.”
If an LAI ever hesitated, she did then.
“I must tell you that all of the Leonine wine and Colvarin cheese have been removed from the secured refrigeration unit aboard the
Rodrigo
.”
I was appropriately aghast.
“What, all of it?”
“Every case and wheel.”
“Well,” I said. “Now I know the source of Jil’s bounty for her party. I should have guessed that was why she didn’t want me present. I would have demanded some credit for supplying the feast.”
“Since you said they may have access to those items, I thought I had better inform you. Are there any other treats that you wish to offer access in their place when we launch again?”
“Certainly not,” I said, allowing my indignation with my cousin to muster to audible levels. “I have no intention of catering every event that she dreams up. I will have to take revenge at some point, but it is, as many of the delicacies that you are reserving for me, best served cold. Thank you for informing me.”
Angie sounded alarmed.
“I do not wish to cause controversy between you and a near relative.”
“Near relations almost always cause the greatest controversy,” I said, with a dismissive wave that I doubted she could see. “It is not your concern or responsibility. Your stewardship is sterling. I appreciate it greatly. Carry on.”
Confound it
, I thought, as Angie disconnected. I wished I had had an inkling of Jil’s intentions before the fact! I might have tampered with the wine at least, letting Jil serve vinegar and make a fool of herself. But no, I would rise above the slight. I had my duties, my responsibilities, and my audience.
CHAPTER 16
“There, does that bring you some measure of comfort?” I inquired, releasing the hand of a middle-aged Croctoid male ensign.
“Yeah, makes sense,” the toothy reptilian replied. “Thanks. I have to think about some things.”
As that had been exactly my intent, I was contented. The shift had been going rather well. Instead of feeling enervated by the hordes of advice-seekers, I found myself drawing energy from our interaction. It was an effect I had not foreseen. I couldn’t wait to see what response my findings would glean from my correspondents.
Looking out over the eager throng who were still awaiting my attention, I made haste to clear the Croctoid paw chart from my viewpad screen. A human woman with the shoulder flashing of a security officer stood up and pushed through the crowd. She clasped her hands together. Clearly, she didn’t want her palm read.
“May I have your place and date of birth?” I asked. She recoiled. I read her physical response as skittishness.
“No!” she said, firmly. “I would prefer not to give you any personal information.”
“Very well, then,” I said. I unslung my lucky circuit from around my neck and dangled it over the surface of the table. “Ask me your question, then, and we’ll see what the pendulum tells us.”
She started to open her mouth, when a blaring mechanical voice interrupted us.
“Make way, please. Make way.”
The crowd parted around an obstacle that I could not immediately see. It did not take mediumistic talent to discern the source, since I had heard the same speech oftentimes before. A serverbot emerged from amid the waiting crowd and rumbled up to me.
“The captain would like to see you, Lieutenant,” it said.
I straightened up. The top of the ’bot rose until it was eye to eye with me, so to speak, as it had no visible optical inputs.
“Now?” I asked.
“Promptly,” it assured me. “Please follow me.”
I gestured at my impedimenta, now well spread out over multiple tables.
“It will take me a while to tidy this up.”
“Now, lieutenant,” it said. “Please leave your property in place. You may return for it later.”
I raised my hands helplessly to the crowd of seekers.
“I will be back as soon as I can,” I said.
Without another word, the ’bot glided toward the door. I shouldered out of my robe and followed at my leisure. The captain had asked me to appear promptly, not on the double. On the way, I tidied myself up, and tucked away the lucky circuit in a belt pouch. It twinkled brightly as I put it away. The very color of the lights cheered my soul.
I wondered as to the subject of my conference with the senior officer. Had Jil’s party gone amiss in some way? Had my cousin finally offended him to the point where he needed a family member’s intercession? That had to be it. Jil could be annoying. Though the
Bonchance
was in what was considered safe space, he was still the master of a warship. The more of his time she demanded, the less he had to devote to his duties. I had tried to make this apparent to my cousin, but it would seem that my warnings had fallen upon deaf ears. Or perhaps he wanted to thank me himself, on the off-chance that Jil had confessed the source of the bounty provided to her guests.
I opened my viewpad to see if she had sent me any messages. Nothing from her was in my inbox. She had, however, commented upon my postings regarding my studies. Depending upon her mood, or so it would seem, she was alternatively admiring and scathing. So very Jil. Well, no clue there. It was better, I mused, not to anticipate too keenly. I took a surreptitious glance at my coin flip program for an indication. It was inconclusive.
The ’bot led me down the corridor just aft of the bridge, where the senior crew maintained office space. A square red light flared out from its top piece to touch the palm pad beside the door. The portal slid aside.
“Please go in, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you,” I said. I stepped over the threshold. The door hissed closed behind me. Back as erect as a plumb bob, I waited for Captain Naftil to take notice of me. He was reading from the console embedded in the nondescript desk. By the line that had formed between his winged brows, I deduced that what was on the document in question was a source of concern to him. With a sweep of his right forefinger, he dismissed it. His dark eyes flicked upward.
“Enter,” he said. I marched forward and stood at parade rest before him.
I surveyed my surroundings. Again, there was much to compare with ships I had traveled aboard previously. The walls were filled with holographic images of captains past as well as physical artifacts, prized possessions of those departed general officers, such as prize flags, models of ancient ships, and carven award plaques. The pale blue glassteel desk, nearly in the center of the small square space, was working furniture, with nothing to recommend it aesthetically. It also stood in a direct line from the door. I could have advised him of a more harmonious feng shui arrangement, but the forbidding expression on his face suggested I let him set the subject for discussion.
Captain Naftil was not long in coming to the point. He interleaved his fingers together and set his joined hands on the desktop.
“Kinago, what are you doing?”
“Getting to know the crew, sir,” I said. “I believe that I have met approximately sixty seven point five percent of the contingent. Good people, all.”
“I am very glad to hear you say that.”
His expression was cautiously neutral. I beamed at him.
“I try, sir. I believe that it behooves me, as a scion of the noble house as well as my mother’s son, to provide a good example and offer fellowship to those who are brave enough to serve aboard an Imperium naval vessel.”
“You have done a little more than offer fellowship, haven’t you?”
“Yes, sir, I have,” I said. There was no point in concealing my activities. I was not ashamed of them. “I am sharing the fruit of several months’ research with my shipmates.”
“Seeking popularity among the crew?”
“Well,” I said modestly, “it has had that effect. At first I did not offer. I only discussed my interests with a co-worker on my station, and he asked me to expand further. Others confessed their interest. Because that suits the nature of my investigations, I permitted them to take part. Word spread from there. And who am I to refuse to provide entertainment on our long journey among the stars?” I was pleased with my turn of phrase, possessed as it was of two meanings at least. Naftil was unmoved.
“You are trying to get attention, Kinago. Is it because you were not seated at my table?”
“If I am honest, sir, perhaps I must admit it began there, but it has taken on a life of its own. I am doing my best to keep it under control. Everyone seems to be enjoying it, sir.”
“Er, fortune-telling . . . it is not sanctioned by the Fleet.”
“I am sure it isn’t,” I said, passionately. “Bureaucracies have, by their nature, deeply rooted and unshakably stiff structures. They are not easily bent toward the softer sciences.”
“Eh? You call it a science?”
“Sociology is a science, Captain.”
As if in answer, he touched the surface of his desk. An image rose from it. I recognized myself in the middle of a large crowd. I had assumed an air of authority and had my hands raised, palm outward, to the group. I thought I looked rather well, if I had to say so myself.
“If you’re not in a receptive frame of mind, how will you absorb the wisdom of the ages?” my recorded image asked grandly of the faces pressing in upon it. Naftil touched the desk again, and my digital image froze in place, with my teeth bared upon my last syllable.
“The wisdom of the ages?” Naftil asked, with one eyebrow raised.
“Perhaps I was laying it on a little heavily,” I said. “I was only trying to restore peace in the room. It would have rebounded upon the crew’s performance after the rest period if they were to harbor resentment and ill feelings for the space of several hours, sir.”
“So this has nothing to do with . . . magic?”
“I have never found a sound basis for magic, sir. My studies are purely for my own enjoyment, and by extension, enjoyment by others.”
The other eyebrow joined its fellow on high upon the captain’s forehead.
“I had a navigator go off sick for a day because you told him that the stars were misaligned for his efficiency.”
“Well, that tells you something about him, doesn’t it? I told everyone that my predictions were for entertainment purposes only. The most interesting thing I have discovered in my studies is that people want to believe.”
“Do they?”
“Oh, yes, Captain.” I produced my viewpad and brought up study after study. The images, charts and reports fanned out across Naftil’s desk. “Foreknowledge of the future, even highly generalized or clearly false, seems to give people comfort. I enjoy giving comfort to those who need it.”
Naftil narrowed his eyes at me.
“And you believe that you should undergo no punishment for distracting my crew in this fashion?”
I was shocked at the notion, although not surprised.
“I don’t believe so, sir. My divinations before reporting to you suggested that you find my efforts without merit, but not against any written regulations.” I added hopefully, “Everyone finds it most amusing.”
He drummed his fingertips on the desktop. His long oval nail beds told me that he was fair by nature as well as friendly and open. If he had had the triangular nails of Commander Diesen, I would have known not to chance his temper, but when faced with such a trait, I felt it was worth the attempt. He studied me for a long while. I presented him with a pleasant and open countenance.
“Interesting,” he said. “You do not attempt to invoke the First Space Lord?”
“Not twice, sir. If there is anything that my mother has done for her children, captain, it is to assure us that when we make a decision, we stand behind it. She has nothing to do with my actions. They are mine and mine alone.”
Captain Naftil was unmoved but I hoped not unimpressed. He raised one of those oval-nailed forefingers and pointed it at me.
“No more fortune telling on my ship, lieutenant. And that is final.”
“Not even on my off-shifts, sir?” I asked plaintively.
“No. Please do not involve my crew in your
studies
. They are here to defend the Imperium, not to act as your test subjects. If you do not comply, you will be given punishment detail.”
I suppressed a sigh.
“As you wish, Captain. I did not mean to give offense. But,” I added hopefully, “if you would like, I will arrange to give you a private reading. So you can see what the others have seen.”
“No.”
“It wouldn’t take long. Your date and place of birth are in the ship’s records. I could download them in a microsecond.”
“No!” Naftil said.
“Are you sure, sir?” I wheedled. “You seemed interested when the subject first came up.”
His complexion went from tan to burgundy.
“Out!”
I snapped off a perfect salute, turned on my heel and marched out.
The others were waiting for me around the table in the recreation center. I could not suppress the smugness I felt as I strutted in the door.
“No punishment?” Redius asked, almost astonished. I favored him with a triumphant grin.
“No. The captain found me harmless but amusing.”
“He does not know,” Redius said, with a breathy laugh.
“Hey, Thomas,” Allen said, coming up to me with his tablet in hand. “What about the next person?”
“I regret to say that the captain has put a halt to our activities,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
Allen looked stricken.
“There’s half the crew waiting,” he whispered, showing me the list. He glanced nervously over his shoulder. The group watched us avidly, straining to hear what we were saying. “What will I tell them?”
“That’s not your responsibility,” I said, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s mine.” I went to address the waiting crowd. “Friends, I am very sorry. Captain Naftil has told me that the fleet does not sanction the reading of fates. With deep regrets, I must inform you that I am folding my tent for the last time. I hope you will understand. We must all accede to naval regulations. I am sure that he has a good reason for withdrawing a form of entertainment that all of you were enjoying. The welfare of the crew and this ship is paramount in his concern. I agree with that wholeheartedly. While I regret not being able to amuse you in the manner I had hoped, I am grateful for the interest that you have shown in my hobby.”