The View from the Imperium (49 page)

When it was all over, I could not believe the blessed silence. A single tear traced its way down my cheek. I dashed it away. The eldest man with a crown of silver hair came to pump my hand. “I saw how moved you were by our anthem, Lord Thomas. It is most courteous of you. It is an ancient piece that tells of the suffering of our ancestors.”

“I can well imagine,” I gasped, bringing myself under control. “I felt it deeply.”

The woman with silver hair and blue tattoos smiled at me for the first time. By the way the others deferred to her, the position of First Councillor must be more than just numerary. She had a large man at her elbow, one of the untattooed faces, probably a personal aide. He stood closer to us than a similar associate would in the Core Worlds, but I was not at home, and customs were no doubt different here. I would check on the Infogrid later to see what the subtleties were.

“Did you enjoy the ceremony, First Councillor?” I asked her.

“It is most patriotic.” She gave me a mischievous smile. “Usually visitors wait until the ceremony of welcome is under way before showing up.”

“You mean it was expected of me to opt out of, er, listening?” I asked.

She tilted her head. “Yes. We expected it. Mention of the, er, custom was in the commentary that followed the protocol we sent to your ship. I must say that I am gratified that you didn’t. Your attention will mollify those who stand on each side of the question.”

“Indeed.” I aimed a hard look at Parsons. “Words will be exchanged later on.” He bowed very slightly, though he remained expressionless. I felt an immediate and permanent sympathy with any dignitaries who visited the Core Worlds from that moment on. Diplomacy was harder than it had first seemed. “And what question is that, madam?” I asked.

“Independence,” she said. She gave a glance toward her aide. His face remained stony. I presumed that she was worried about him overhearing us, but she made no move away from him. “You have come to inquire on behalf of the emperor whether we will accept his invitation to return to the fold.”

“Well,” I said, feeling awkward, “I’ve lived in the Imperium all my life. It’s a good place to be part of. There are beautiful and interesting—and historical—places to visit. I brought lots of images and videos of home, so you can see. Not that you don’t have history here, of course. There’s just more of it. His Majesty hopes you’ll say yes, of course, but I’m just an observer. It’s up to the emperor’s ambassador to persuade you, really. You won’t have met her, have you? His Majesty’s concerned about her. That’s why he sent me. And Parsons.” I tilted my head toward the grave mien a meter off my starboard stern. The two diplomats looked at him, then gave each other nervous looks.

“No, we have not,” the man said at last. “Er, seen her, that is. I mean, lately. She did communicate with us that she was coming. I . . . I trust she is well?”

“I hope so,” I said. “But it’s been a while since anyone’s heard from her. She’s about to incur a nasty fine for failing to update her Infogrid file, you know.” By their expressions, my joke fell flat. It was a serious thing, of course. I needed to change the subject. “Tell me, please. I’ve never been here before, of course. I notice that everyone has, er, facial art.”

The pair of diplomats seemed to relax. I felt good about putting them at their ease. I was doing my job, observing.

“An old custom,” the gentleman said, taking me by the arm and leaning on me as we walked toward the tables. “When humankind settled in the Castaway Cluster, the first system colonized was Cocomo. Humanity found that it was already occupied by an intelligent native species. They made us welcome.” He turned me by the elbow to face one of the insectoid beings. “Do you see their facial patterns?”

“Very handsome,” I said. All of them were different and complex. If I concentrated on the multicolored whorls and blobs, I could imagine wrought iron gates or flower petals, fish scales or fine calligraphy. “I am impressed by the beauty and detail.”

“Yes, indeed. We decided that in solidarity with these fine beings we would go so adorned. Each family chose its own pattern and color scheme, though there have been alterations over the centuries.” His expression suggested that he did not approve of those alterations.

“Most admirable,” I said, sincerely. It was a great concession on the part of humanity, which did not have a good record throughout the ages for accommodating anyone else. I was impressed.

“Is not epidermal art practiced in the greater Imperium?” he asked, peering at me and my fellows. “I believe that videos of the time before the . . . the separation, that I have seen beings wearing tattoos.”

“Oh, well, it is,” I said. “But as a member of the Imperial household, I’m not permitted to make any permanent changes to my person, neither physical nor genetic, to the angst of those of us born with long noses, small eyes or outstanding ears.” Knocking at the back of my teeth was the knowledge of my heritage. I pushed it firmly away. “If you stripped my companions bare, you might find a skin image or two, but don’t tell them I suggested such an impertinence.” My audience gave an appreciative chuckle. “My cousins and I do frequent the establishments of face-painters, especially for parties. Your patterns are most interesting. Tell me about them, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Not at all, my lord, not at all!” the old man said, beaming. “My tattoos follow the color scheme of my sixteen-times-great-grandmother Genilla . . .”

Each of the councillors was eager to give me details of their history. Children wore stripes of color over the bridges of their noses from their naming ceremony at one month of age. When they reached their official adulthood, at the onset of puberty, they chose their permanent designs.

“Too early, what?” I asked, recalling what I had been like around that despicable time of my life.

“Not at all,” said the First Councillor.

“Don’t any of you come to regret your choices?” I asked, curiously.

“Of course not,” said the old man, whose name was Bruke. They were horrified at the thought.

“May I record yours?” I asked. “It would be a great favor.” They agreed. I set my Optique to capture their images from several different directions. The serene look on Parsons’s face said that he approved.

We sat down for the luncheon. Parsons and my staff were at the table adjacent to mine with the elderly gentleman and another older man with yellowing skin under his rather elaborate tattoos. They listened through my viewpad and two hovering cameras. Redius blinked at me with amusement. I occupied the hot seat among the most challenging guests. First Councillor DeKarn sat at my right hand, and a very attractive woman my mother’s age, Councillor Nineteen, at my left. Sgarthad, partnered with the governor’s wife, sat across from me.

“So you are a cousin of the emperor,” Sgarthad said, expansively, toasting me with a cup of wine.

“One of many,” I said. “Shojan and I share a number of ancestors. He is a Kinago, of course. One of the founding families of the Imperium. It’s in your history books.”

“
Your
history books,” he said. “I am from the Trade Union.”

“Do tell,” I said, hoping I didn’t look as if I had heard it before. “What are you doing here? Er, trading?”

Sgarthad chuckled. “More than that. These good people have taken me into their bosom,” he said. “We are making friends and opening ourselves to commerce and culture with an eye toward forming a permanent bond between us.”

“Not too permanent, I trust,” I said. “After all, this territory is within the realm of the Imperium.” I addressed my other tablemates. “We—that is to say,
the emperor
hopes you will also take him to your bosom.”

“I am afraid you are a little late,” the governor said, with a tentative glance at Sgarthad before he spoke. “The Trade Union has become a good friend to us.”

“And I am not unaware of history,” I said. “I am just saying, what about all the maps? They show the Cluster as part of the Imperium. I would hate to see that change. You can’t be cruel to all those cartographers!”

“They will cope,” Sgarthad said, flatly. “The Cluster does not wish to be associated any longer with the Imperium. That time is past.”

“I would rather hear it from the citizens of the Cluster itself,” I said, firmly. I regarded the governor and each of the councillors intently, giving them my most wistful expression. “I hope I can expect the same courtesy, to allow me to become
your
friend.” Yuchiko’s mouth spread in a beaming smile.

“You won’t be here long enough, will you?” the captain asked, quelling the governor before he could reply. “You have to get back to your busy life.”

“I haven’t a thing in the world to do except what the emperor commands,” I said, with more than a hint of truth. “Governor, councillors, I hope we may have a discussion over the coming days on the subject. I am keen to discern your views, and I wish to offer you mine—those I represent. After all, I am His Majesty’s observer.”

“Well, you know, it has been a long time,” Yuchiko said, timidly. “That time is past.”

I cocked an eyebrow. How curious that the governor should echo his visitor’s precise words. “Plet?” I whispered.

“I am on it, sir,” said the voice in my ear. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her eyes dip to her lap, and her fingers went to work on her viewpad.

“Lord Thomas,” said Councillor DeKarn, firmly, “you are correct. You do have the right to be heard. We would be honored if you would address the full council tomorrow. All eight systems have the right to hear you. We all wish to hear the emperor’s plans for our future.”

I would have sworn that she had told me shortly before that she favored independence for the Castaway Cluster. Then I sensed the roiling hostility I had felt when I first arrived. It was not meant for me, but for the man seated opposite. From the grimace Sgarthad wore, she had just tweaked his tail. She was terrified to do it, but brave enough to try.
A-ha
, I thought. I recalled my father enjoining me to discover not what they wanted, but what they feared. All was not the calm pond surface it appeared. This was an important fact. I made a note to include it in my report.

“You must be present, too, Governor,” the attractive woman at my side added.

“I would be delighted,” Yuchiko said. Sgarthad cleared his throat. The governor turned to him. He dipped his head like a chided schoolboy. “It is only courteous to our guest. I will maintain my own opinion, of course.”

I vowed to use that indecision to help sway the Cluster back into the Imperium’s fold. My mother would be proud of me if I managed to promote the cause of unity. And, of course, I would continue to observe.

By the purple cast of Sgarthad’s complexion, I perceived that I had pushed the subject as far as I could for the time being. I turned the table talk to my favorite subject, photography.

“You are right, Thomas,” Plet said. “A Grid pundit, endorsed by your distinguished friend there, quotes Captain Sgarthad as saying, “That time is past,” in reply to the question of Imperium ties. Several times, in fact. The phrase is a favorite of his.”

“Most amusing,” Redius said in an undertone that I heard through the miniature receiver above my ear. “Not know their own minds. But they know his.”

Chapter 30

The following morning I arrived on time for my speech with Parsons, Oskelev and Nesbitt in tow to the low, brown stone building that housed the Castaway Cluster council. I was surprised how humble it looked after the other centers of planetary and system government that had been pointed out to me on my tour from the spaceport. Plet and Anstruther had remained on our ship engaged upon research, but we all remained linked through the scalp implants. They would hear and see everything that I did. I felt quite well-protected.

The First Councillor swept down on me and tucked her arm into mine. Her minder stuck as close to her as Nesbitt and Oskelev did to me, both of them with weapons displayed in their belts. Parsons, in midnight blue, trailed behind us, exuding calm. Redius waited with our transport outside, making certain no alterations were made to the vehicle in our absence.

“I look forward to your speech,” DeKarn said, in a quiet voice. “It will be broadcast through the Grid and the local media. I hope you are willing to give interviews to the local opinion reporters. They will want to ask you questions. Have you sent out copies of your text ahead of time?”

“I rather prefer it to be a surprise,” I said. “Is it . . . customary?”

She smiled. “No, but it saves time of transcription, that’s all. Afterwards, there will be a rebuttal from a few of our members. By the way, you will be speaking in Performance Central, our city-state’s main auditorium. This way.”

I nearly whistled as she led me into a red-walled concert hall that must have housed at least two thousand beings. The stage below looked like a dinner tray. It was surrounded by a troop of soldiers in dark green jackets, tan trousers and brown boots who at this distance looked like toys. Other brightly colored miniature figures moved to and fro in the lights. Mine were not the only cameras floating around. As I appeared, dozens of small spheres came to hover around me like satellites. Their owners turned keen faces in my direction. I smiled and waved at all of them. “I thought I would be addressing only the forty councillors and the governor.”

The First Councillor shook her head. “Word spread last night. The clamor for seats was so great we had to move you from our chamber to this space. Fortunately it was available today. You don’t mind, do you?” she asked anxiously.

“Not at all,” I promised her. The more people who heard the emperor’s message, the better.

“I don’t like this,” Nesbitt said, low enough that I heard it only through bone conduction. “How can I cover this whole space?”

“We only need to cover him,” Oskelev pointed out. “Who’s going to shoot at him? Those guys? I bet they only meet once a year for target practice.” She aimed an elbow toward the troop of soldiers. Close by, I could see how young they were. They saw me looking, and threw their shoulders back and assumed serious expressions.

“I’d bet on the two of you over that entire squad,” I said, proudly. “Or either of you.”