In Fire Forged: Worlds of Honor V-ARC (28 page)

“I believe it is,” Honor agreed.

Teschendorff nodded, still contemplating Nimitz with obvious fascination and pleasure, and she wondered if the Silesian had also heard about the ’cats’ telempathic abilities. That particular treecat capability was one which the humans who knew them best went to some length to downplay except with people they knew well and trusted. There’d been a few nasty incidents early on in human-treecat relations, especially when unscrupulous bio researchers—the planet Mesa came to mind—had tried to acquire specimens of treecats in order to probe their reputed telepathy.

“Well!” Teschendorff said after a few more seconds, almost visibly shaking himself. “May I ask what brings you to the fair city of Onyx, Commander? Official business, or personal?”

“Personal, this time, Sir.”

“Indeed?” Teschendorff regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision.

“As it happens, Commander Harrington, I’m here on personal business this morning, as well.
Feliksá
has finished her trials, and Captain Holt and I will be returning to our station in Hillman in the next day or so. So I thought I should spend today visiting one of my favorite restaurants here on Jasper. I was stationed here for some time, you know.”

“No, Sir,” Honor replied (not entirely truthfully), “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, I was. And I have to say that it was my experience when I was here that Jasper’s cuisine is superior to most. Have you had the opportunity to sample it yet?”

“I’m afraid not.” Honor smiled. “As a matter of fact, Nimitz and I”—she indicated the treecat on her shoulder as she named him—“are just on our way to repair that omission.”

“Really? Did you have a particular restaurant in mind?”

“Not yet, Sir.”

“Well, if you’ll forgive me for pointing this out, you might find it just a bit difficult to gain admittance to most of our restaurants—including, I’m afraid, almost all the better ones—with what most of the local citizenry is going to persist in regarding as a ‘pet’ on your shoulder.”

Honor grimaced at the reminder. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had that experience more than once. Even some
Manticoran
restaurants reacted that way.

“What I was thinking,” Teschendorff went on before she could respond, “is that I’ve never actually had the opportunity to make a treecat’s acquaintance. If you and—Nimitz, was it?—wouldn’t object to my making the most of that opportunity, it would be my pleasure to invite you as my guest to one of my own favorite restaurants. One where I feel reasonably confident my own modest endorsement might convince the management to regard him as yet one more diner and not someone’s pet.”

Honor gazed at him, feeling Nimitz on her shoulder, and wondered exactly what lay behind that invitation. It was possible that it was as simple as Teschendorff was suggesting. On the other hand, it had been Honor’s experience that the universe normally wasn’t quite that straightforward. And the intensity with which Nimitz continued to regard the Silesian officer suggested that he found something about Teschendorff just as fascinating as Teschendorff appeared to find him, which raised all sorts of interesting questions.

But if, in fact, Teschendorff had any sort of ulterior—or at least so far unstated—motives for his invitation, the only way to find out what they might be was to accept it. Besides, the opportunity for an officer of her own seniority to make the acquaintance of a senior commodore in someone else’s navy didn’t come along every day.

“In that case, Sir,” she heard herself say, “Nimitz and I would be honored to accept.”

*
   
*
   
*

Commodore Teschendorff’s restaurant of choice turned out to rejoice in the name of Chez Fiammetta’s del Shenyang. Honor was no linguistic expert, but that name seemed even more gloriously mangled than usual to her, and she experienced a distinct twinge of doubt as she and Nimitz followed Teschendorff across an antique walkway of rain-glistening bricks and through its relatively modest front door.

She wasn’t a bit surprised when the maître d’ raised both eyebrows and began an automatic protest at the sight of Nimitz, but if she’d had any doubt about Teschendorff’s status as a regular, the speed with which the maître d’ surrendered to the commodore’s “explanation” would have banished them. As far as she could tell, no money even changed hands, yet within minutes, the two of them—and Nimitz—were seated at a linen-draped table looking out through multi-paned doors at a garden. The restaurant was built in a hollow square around the garden, and there were dining tables scattered among local flowering shrubs with brilliant blue leaves and crimson blossoms around the small fountain which formed the garden’s centerpiece. Under less damp conditions, they must have been the best seats in the house, she thought a bit wistfully.

A waiter materialized at Teschendorff’s elbow.

“Have you had the opportunity to sample any of the local wines, Commander?” the commodore asked.

“Actually, Sir, I’m not particularly fond of wine. Or, rather, I’m afraid my father is a much pickier wine snob than I am, and I’ve tried to avoid falling into that particular snare.”

Teschendorff chuckled and shook his head, and she smiled at him.

“What I would like to sample, if I may,” she continued, turning to the waiter, “is the local beer. I’m particularly partial to the dark beers or a good lager.”

“I see.”
 

The waiter’s accent didn’t sound like any of the local accents Honor had yet heard, and his complexion was considerably darker than a typical Jasperite’s, as well. His eyes went a bit distant for a moment as he appeared to think deeply, then they sharpened again.
 

“If I may, Ma’am,” he said then, “perhaps I might suggest the Lanzhou Dark. In my personal opinion, it’s the best of our house beers.”

“I’ll second that, Commander,” Teschendorff put in.

“In that case, let’s go ahead and give it a try,” Honor said with a smile.

“And I’ll have my own usual, John,” Teschendorff told him.

“Of course, Sir. And for your companion, Commander?” the waiter asked, looking courteously at Nimitz in the highchair she’d requested.

“For now, Nimitz will just have ice water, thank you.” Honor was pleased—and more than a bit surprised—that he’d asked.

“Um, should I bring it in a
glass,
Ma’am?”

“That would be fine,” Honor told him with another, broader smile. “I think a straw might be in order, though.”

“Of course,” he murmured again, and departed.

*
   
*
   
*

What followed was among Honor’s more…unusual gastronomical experiences. The restaurant’s apparently absurd name, it turned out, was an accurate reflection of its culinary offerings. Honor had no idea whether or not Chez Fiammetta’s was remotely typical of Jasperite restaurants, but its cuisine was a unique—and surprisingly delicious—fusion of Old Earth’s French, Italian, and Chinese cookery. At Teschendorff’s suggestion, she began with a soup course—a lemon grass gnocchi with shrimp—accompanied by a crisp green salad with seared tuna (although the fish in question didn’t look a thing like the Old Earth—or Sphinxian—species of the same name) and ginger dressing. The entrée was a house specialty which she could only think of as chow mein with prawns and Italian sausage in Alfredo sauce, garnished with ripe olives, which sounded bizarre, at best, but turned out to be extraordinarily tasty. And at Teschendorff’s suggestion, she added the House
Profiteroles au Chocolat
for dessert, which turned out to be equally delicious…despite the touch of licorice in the hot chocolate sauce and even though it had never occurred to her to try coconut ice cream instead of vanilla.

Nimitz had been equally well cared for, with a
Carpaccio de Boeuf
with a side order of celery sticks stuffed with a pesto and cream cheese blend. Teschendorff had watched with evident interest (and amusement) as the treecat devoured his meal with impeccable table manners, and their waiter seemed equally fascinated by his unusual diner.

It turned out to be one of the most pleasant meals Honor had ever enjoyed in Silesia, and Teschendorff turned out to be an equally pleasant dinner companion. He did, indeed, ask a great many questions—all of them intelligent and thoughtful—about both Nimitz and the Medusans who inhabited the sole oxygen-nitrogen planet of the Basilisk System, and unlike many Silesians she’d met, he appeared to be equally willing to answer questions about his star nation, in return. She was careful not to ask the sort of questions which might give offense, yet on more than one occasion, he ended up discussing aspects of the Confederacy’s endemic instability with what she privately considered to be devastating frankness for any serving Silesian officer.

All of which led her to reappraise his initial offer to take
Evita
off her hands.

“Well, Commander,” Teschendorff said finally, “I’ve enjoyed the conversation and the company, but I’m afraid I have an appointment.”

He laid his folded napkin on the table and stood. Honor rose as well, but he waved her back into her chair.

“There’s no need for you to run off, Commander Harrington,” he told her with a smile. “I know you said you weren’t a ‘wine snob,’ but there’s an orange blossom Muscat I wish you’d try.”

“Commodore, you’ve been entirely too generous—” Honor began, but Teschendorff only shook his head with another, broader smile.

“You and Nimitz have put up with more than enough questions to leave me in your debt,” he told her. “Besides, I fully intend to turn in the receipts for our repasts as part of my professional training and networking budget.”

She looked at him for a moment, then shrugged and smiled back at him.

“All right, Sir. I still think you’re being too generous, but I’m greedy enough to go ahead and take you up on it, anyway.”

“Good! It’s been a pleasure, Commander. I hope we encounter one another again.”

He half-bowed, then turned and walked away, pausing on his way out of the restaurant to say something to their waiter.

A moment later, the waiter appeared at Honor’s elbow with a wine bottle for her examination. He extracted the cork, and she went through the entire sniffing, tasting, and approving ritual just as if she actually knew what she was doing.

As with the rest of Teschendorff’s suggestions, this one turned out to be excellent, and she sat back, looking out the windows at the garden while she enjoyed it. The rain had stopped, and shafts of sunlight reached down through the breaking banks of charcoal cloud to wake winking reflections from the wet brick walkways and splash the flowerbeds and shrubbery with bursts of brilliant, rain-drenched color.

She was just preparing to leave Chez Fiammetta’s, not without a certain regret, when her waiter reappeared.

“Do you require anything else, Commander Harrington?” he asked her.

“No,” she told him with a smile. “No, thank you. You taken wonderful care of Nimitz and me.”

“You’re entirely welcome, Ma’am,” he replied, then cocked his head to one side. “Excuse me,” he continued, “but I couldn’t help overhearing some of your conversation with the Commodore, especially about your companion here.” He nodded slightly in Nimitz’s direction. “I gathered that you were Manticoran. Given what you had to say about treecats and where they come from, I was wondering if you’d happen to be from Sphinx, yourself?”

“Yes,” Honor said a bit slowly after a moment, her eyes narrowing. “As it happens, Nimitz and I are both from Sphinx.”

“Well, I couldn’t help wondering—especially given…Nimitz’s presence—if you might happen to be related to Dr.
Allison
Harrington?” Honor’s narrowed eyes widened suddenly. “She’s from Beowulf, originally,” the waiter went on a bit quickly.

“As a matter of fact,” Honor replied even more slowly, “Dr. Harrington is my mother.”

The waiter’s eyes widened, yet Nimitz was watching him closely now, and Honor had the impression that the man wasn’t really surprised by the fact that she was Allison Benton-Ramirez y Chou Harrington’s daughter. He seemed more surprised by the fact that she was a naval officer…or that she was here on Jasper, perhaps. She wasn’t certain why she thought that, but the impression was quite strong.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if making his mind up about something, then cleared his throat.

“Forgive me, Ma’am. I’m sure I seem to be poking my nose into your affairs, and I apologize for that, but I didn’t really expect to encounter Dr. Harrington’s daughter here in Silesia. Now that I have, I can’t help wondering if you happen to share your mother’s views on genetic slavery.”

Honor managed not to blink. She knew bizarre coincidences abounded, and she’d experienced more than a few of them herself, yet nothing had prepared her for the possibility of encountering someone who actually seemed to know her
mother
here in Silesia. Nor could she imagine where this conversation was headed. Still, there was only one honest answer to the question he’d just asked.

“Yes,” she said, looking him levelly in the eye. “Yes, I do.”

“Somehow,” he murmured, “that doesn’t really surprise me.”

“May I ask why not?” she inquired, grasping the dilemma firmly by the horns.

“Why I’m not surprised, Ma’am?” He smiled crookedly. “I haven’t seen your mother in a great many years, Commander, but I know several members of her family—your family, I suppose, for that matter—on Beowulf quite well, actually. And I’m familiar with its history.”

“And is there a specific reason that you’ve drawn this to my attention? Besides a simple desire to reminisce about my Beowulfan relatives, I mean?”

“Actually, there is,” he said in a much quieter voice. “I don’t think this is the time or place to explain it all, though. Is there some way I could reach you aboard your ship…without anyone knowing?”

Honor’s eyes were no longer merely puzzled. They’d narrowed and hardened, yet despite the intensity of the gaze she bent upon the waiter, she was watching Nimitz out of the corner of her vision, as well. The ’cat’s ears were upright but pointed in the waiter’s direction, his slit-pupilled eyes were intent, and the very tip of his tail curled up in a sort of frozen question mark. Whatever else might be happening here, Nimitz obviously sensed no immediate threat.