Read Fortunes of the Imperium Online
Authors: Jody Lynn Nye
Tags: #Fiction, #science fiction, #General, #Action & Adventure, #Space Opera
Fortunes of the Imperium (12 page)
The front of the cell lit up red. That was a signal to anyone near the barred wall to move away, or be burned by the glowing metal. It meant they had a visitor. The door slid open about a meter, no farther.
The bulky figure covered in thick white fur who marched into the cell was both a welcome and an intrusive presence. Allisjonil Derinket had arrived. Like most Wichus, he had a no-nonsense personality. He had no time or patience for pleading, begging, complaints or explosions. He was capable of exploding pretty loudly himself. He and M’Kenna had gotten into fierce arguments over the last few weeks that needed to be broken up by Rafe. She tried to keep her temper with him, since he was their court-appointed attorney. The Uctus understood that foreign defendants would find it easier to trust a lawyer who came from the other side of the border. M’Kenna would have preferred a human, maybe even a Croctoid, to the brusque Wichu. But by the remarks on the Infogrid, he was a good and savvy advocate. The two slender Uctu guards who accompanied him checked the visitor’s badge on his chest, and stood sentry until the bars closed behind him.
He took a tablet, same model as their prison-issued gear, from the cross-body harness he wore over his furry shoulders.
“Got some news for you,” he said.
“When will the hearing be?”
“I don’t know yet,” Allisjonil said, turning an annoyed glance to her. “I obtained a stay until we can investigate all your connections. You have that ready?”
M’Kenna sprang up and strode into the children’s room. All four of her kids sat on the floor around the glowing rectangle, playing a game of Pin the Part on the Ship Engine. She leaned into their midst and picked up the tablet. Her four-year-old son wailed a protest and tried to grab it back.
“Sorry, kids. I need this now.”
“We understand, Mama,” Nona said. She gathered the two small children to her. Lerin sat like a statue.
M’Kenna brought up the file from the locked folder and transferred it to Allisjonil’s computer. He opened it and scanned the text.
“Right. I’ll look into these.” He turned his big, round eyes to the Coppers. “Meantime, you’re getting out of here.”
Rafe grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
“Really? Yay!” M’Kenna cheered. “Allie, you’re the best!”
“They’re releasing us? They’re letting us post bail?” Rafe demanded. The children appeared in the doorway, their eyes wide at the outburst. Allisjonil waved a dismissive hand.
“Go away, kids,” he said sternly.
“But . . .” Lerin protested.
“Shut up,” Allisjonil said. “Go away. We’re still talking. If your parents wanted you to listen, they would have told you.”
One by one, the children backed into their room. Lerin was the last to go, his eyes full of reproach. The Wichu waited until he was gone, then turned back to the Coppers.
“Are you stupid? You’re not being released. Have you had a trial yet? You’re being transferred to Dilawe. No one stands trial for a capital offense on Partwe. They don’t do executions here. It raises too many questions about impartial witnesses.”
“That doesn’t help us!” M’Kenna protested. Allisjonil snorted impatiently.
“I can’t do anything about that! You’re the ones who committed the crime.”
“Some attorney!” Rafe snarled. He flung himself away from them and paced the three steps to the end of the cell.
“We did
not
commit a crime,” M’Kenna said, controlling herself with difficulty. “We are being framed. Set up.”
“By who?” Allisjonil asked.
“I don’t know who! When I can figure out how they did it, you can find out who. That’s your job!”
“My job is to defend you, not investigate anything. For that, you pay extra.” Allisjonil checked another file on his tablet. “You got the schedule of fees, right?”
“Yes!”
“Good. That includes how much you have to pay for me to accompany you to Dilawe. You’re splitting the fare with three other groups of defendants, so it won’t be too bad.”
The Coppers were not satisfied with that, but there was nothing more that they could do about it, either.
“What about our kids?” M’Kenna asked.
“No judgment about that yet. I’ll let you know if the appeal goes through. Meantime, they stay with you.”
“What about our ship?” Rafe asked. Allisjonil shrugged.
“It’s being transported, too. It’ll be put into secure dock until after the trial.”
“And then?”
The Wichu shrugged, making his shoulder fur flip up and settle down again. “If you win, you get it back. If not, it’ll be auctioned off to cover court costs. That’s the way they do things here.”
M’Kenna, aghast at the feelings inside her, couldn’t say a word. She sat down heavily on the berth, clutching the tablet to her chest.
“That’s all you have for us?” Rafe asked, his voice hoarse.
“That’s it. I’ll be back when you get transferred.” Allisjonil tapped the badge on his chest. The door at the end of the corridor slid open noisily, accompanied by a blast of chlorine-scented air. The two guards marched to the door. One activated a handheld control to open the bars while the other covered the Coppers with his wide-range stunner. Allisjonil squeezed out. Without a backward glance, he strode away. They heard his voice further down the hall, as he greeted yet another of his unhappy clients.
Nona appeared in the opening between the rooms. M’Kenna met her eyes. Nona had tears running down her face. She did her best not to listen when the attorney visited. Why would she? She had never heard anything good. She extended a trembling hand to her mother.
M’Kenna rose and rushed to her. Nona threw herself into her arms. M’Kenna held her close, murmuring soft words into her daughter’s hair. How could anybody think that they could wrench something so precious away from her? Her eldest child, almost a woman herself but never getting a chance to have a life of her own, not yet? Nona pressed herself close, her eyes squeezed shut. The half-moons of long black lashes gleamed with tears. M’Kenna kissed each eyelid. At a small sound from the children’s room, they broke apart. The younger three sat huge-eyed on the floor.
“You all right?” Akila asked, looking from one to the other.
“We’re fine, honey,” M’Kenna assured him, wishing it was true.
“How about a story?” Nona asked, her voice bright. She never let herself betray her fears to Dorna or Akila. Lerin had obviously heard everything. His face had gone as hard as a stone. M’Kenna went to embrace him, too, but he ducked out of reach. He retreated to the far corner and sat on the floor with his knees up. In a way, M’Kenna was glad. She wanted them to understand, even if it wasn’t just or fair. But he needed to know. She wished she could reassure him, but she couldn’t. She could not even promise him they would be able to stay together, because she didn’t know. Better if they created their own defenses. They might need to protect themselves one day, if M’Kenna and Rafe couldn’t.
She stuffed the idea down deep in her mind, underneath deliberately hopeful thoughts. They would get out of there! Soon!
“A story sounds like a great idea, darling,” M’Kenna said. She offered the tablet to Nona.
“No, mama, you pick,” Akila said.
M’Kenna hesitated, then decided they all needed some cuddle time. She squeezed in among them on the floor, then requested access to their ship’s personal files via the tablet’s one available circuit. It took a long time for the computer system to grant permission, but allowed her to open the kids’ library.
“Pick a long one,” Akila said, with one elbow on her thighs.
“Why not?” M’Kenna said. Scrolling along the book covers gave her a small measure of comfort. For a little while, she could pretend they were all together in the mess room aboard the
Entertainer
, sailing in between ports of call. She fought down the feelings of resentment that they
weren’t
out there.
Their government ought to have their back! When she could get the unit to herself again, M’Kenna planned to send another message to every single official she could think of, trying to get an investigation going, but mainly to get them out of there!
Dorna didn’t care what she read, as long as she could sit against her mother’s side with her thumb in her mouth. M’Kenna chose a chapter book from among the other three’s favorites.
“Voice or text,” the tablet inquired.
“Text,” M’Kenna said.
The age-old two-dee images began to scroll across the screen, with text in a very readable typeface at the bottom nearest her. She put the tablet out on her lap as far as she could and still see the print, so the bright pictures were visible to all of them, including Lerin.
“Once upon a time, seven bears lived in a cottage on a broad, green hill,” M’Kenna read. “A royal palace was up the hill from them, at the very top, and the river was down the hill. People of all kinds came and went between them. The bears kept ten thousand bees in ten hives behind their cottage . . . .”
Before she got to the next illustration, the one that showed the bears wearing veiled hats and carrying square boxes with steam coming out of them, she felt pressure against her other side. She glanced down. Lerin had come to cuddle up next to her. She put her other arm around him.
“Tablet, voice instruction activate.”
“Acknowledged,” the device said, pleasantly.
“Turn the page.”
CHAPTER 10
As the
Rodrigo
was a serving military ship, accommodations were not lush. My cabin was set out as I preferred, but most of the time, when the scout was employed elsewhere by the Imperium Navy, it held two junior officers, not one. Still, I had extra storage and floor space, which cousin Jil commandeered for her excess luggage. In no manner did I expect her to leave her other bags in the hold where they belonged, but it was tedious always to be tripping over sprawling duffels full of cosmetics and fripperies. Jil even made an attempt to occupy the cabin itself, instead of the small guest quarters below to which she had been assigned, but I pointed out that I was among the serving officers, and at their beck, whereas she and the others were nearer the bathing facilities and had some privacy.
“You don’t want us waking you up if there is a catastrophe, do you? I find it a bore that Mother insists that I take part in the exercises.”
“No,” Jil acknowledged, though grudgingly. “That would be an utter calamity. Very well.”
I did point out the excellence of the soundproofing in between the cabins, so nothing except announcements intended for them would pass through the walls. On the other hand, when hatches were left open, one could hear the giggling everywhere.
I felt myself to be bridging two different worlds. My cousin and her friends represented the majority of my life to date.
Still, the addition of five women changed the dynamics of life among the crew of the
Rodrigo
. As they were civilian guests, we acceded to their choices of entertainment. Therefore, the large screens in the common room were endlessly running the latest gossip programs. Now, I am as fond of knowing who was with who and what was what, but I felt it lowered the dignity of my ship.
Still, I could not help but feel wistful as I passed through the mess hall, seeing the five of them seated at the oval table in the middle of the room, rapt upon the love life of this celebrity or that, or the current gossip regarding an affair being carried on by an ‘unnamed member of the aristocracy,’ as the chicly dressed reporter described, whom I deduced from context was Xan. I could have been part of this happy scene. Instead, I had
duties
. I confess I felt rather hard done by.
I ordered up a cup of coffee from the robot server.
“Good morning, Lord Thomas,” it chirruped, as my favorite porcelain mug clicked into the steadying bracket placed below the dispenser spigot.
“Good morning, NG-903,” I said, reading the designation on the small metal seal above the speaker port. “Shouldn’t you call me Lieutenant Kinago?”
“If you wish, my lord,” it replied, over the whir of its internal roaster-and-grinder combination. “But when I worked in the compound as the cleanerbot in the workshop owned by your father, Lord Rodrigo, I became ingrained in the habit of using noble honorifics. We have spoken before many times.”
“You’re
Angie?
” I asked, delighted to meet an old acquaintance. “What are you doing here?”
“Work exchange program,” Angie replied. A stream of fragrant black liquid trickled into my cup. I inhaled gratefully. “The chance to serve aboard a naval vessel interested me, and the coincidence of finding an LAI who worked on a vessel of the same name as my usual employer made it appear as if this opportunity was meant to be. And I appreciated the chance to serve you again, my lord.”
“Well, well,” I said, taking the steaming beverage from the cradle. “This is nice, to come across an old friend. I fear my father will miss you.”
“My locum tenens is a most efficient server,” Angie said. “Lord Rodrigo may come to prefer DNS-502A to me.”
“I very much doubt that. My father is a loyal soul.” I glanced over my shoulder at my cousin, and dropped my voice. “Angie, I have some delicacies on board that I would appreciate you helping me to safeguard. Everyone will be welcome to enjoy them when I bring each forth in turn, but I prefer to be the dispenser of bounty rather than finding a scatter of crumbs in an otherwise empty pantry. My cousin has a tendency to fall upon such treats as caviar and exotic fruits as one of the ancient breed of locusts would, leaving nothing behind but ruin and regret.”
“Understood, Lord Thomas,” Angie said. “Are there perhaps two or three foodstuffs to which they may help themselves at will? That would divert any resentment that they cannot have access to it all.”
“Why, yes,” I said, surprised. “That is a very clever stratagem. My compliments on picking up on such a subtle point of psychology.”
“Your father holds forth now and then on strategy,” Angie said, placidly. A small paddle covered by a sleeve of dampened cloth smelling of cleaning fluid emerged from a slot below the dispenser. It swabbed the cup bracket clean, then vanished into its niche.
“He does? To whom?”
“To whoever is there to listen, my lord. I and my fellow LAIs are the most frequent recipients of his wisdom. He has provided me with an excellent education in understanding human nature. I owe being able to qualify for this position to him.”
I was silent for a moment in admiration for my paternal unit. Lord Commander Rodrigo Park Kinago had been a most promising young officer in the navy, or so I have been told. He was a hero who performed many daring feats on behalf of the Imperium, culminating with a dangerous covert mission in which he saved hundreds of lives during a deep space battle. The father that I and my siblings adored was a sweet-natured potterer and part-time inventor who hardly seemed aware of his surroundings. The mental disconnection was a result of his injuries following that space battle. To my shame, I had been ignorant of those facts until comparatively recently. Like most of my relatives, I had come to think of him as “Poor, dear Rodrigo.” It was in tribute to my father that I maintained my connection to the navy and the service of the mysterious Mr. Frank.
“The sweet-spice puffs,” I said, without further prompting. “The green Leonine wines. And half of the Colvarin cheese. Hold back the rest unless I so direct you.”
“As you wish, sir,” Angie said. “Those will be left accessible. I shall make it look as if your cousin and her friends have sidestepped my security programming to attain them.”
I laughed. “Oh, you are very good, my friend. I look forward to exchanging stories of my father with you.”
In a much cheerier mood, I went to sit beside Jil at the oval table.
Banitra scooted down the bench a trifle to make room for me. She steadied my coffee cup until I was settled.
“Oh, Thomas,” Jil said, as though noticing me for the first time. “Good. You can be the sixth. We want to play Snap Dragons. I thought we would have to play with one of the AIs, but you will do.”
“Of course,” I said. “Do you have your own cards, or do you need me to provide a deck?”
“Oh, both,” Hopeli said, beaming at me. “Let’s play with a double deck. Then we can invoke the alternate rules. That will be much more fun.”
“I hope you will not take it amiss when I beat all of you,” I said. Most of my games and sports equipment had been transferred to the caches in the common room, so I had but to open a hatch in the wall to retrieve my Snap Dragon deck and the earpieces used for private negotiation with one’s fellow players. The game, part role-play, part chance, had become a craze among my circle of relatives in Taino.
“You haven’t got a chance!” Jil said, laughing.
“We’ll see about that,” I said.
We put the cards on the table and sat back to watch them fold themselves together. Snap Dragon decks, like many of the current games, contained infinitely small dynamic engines that allowed them to shuffle themselves. I had introduced programming into mine that did not alter the core honesty profile, but did cause my half of the deck to parade itself around, trailing pairs and trios that fanned out, snapped together, arched and collapsed like a party of cardboard acrobats.
Marquessa gaped openly at their antics.
“Is this a custom game?” she asked. “Something I can order for my clients?”
“No,” I said, pleased. “All my own work.”
“Thomas has so many things he would rather do than useful labor,” Jil said.
Momentarily stung at the accusation, I opened my mouth to defend myself. After all, what was I doing on a warship bound for a complicated investigation? But I smiled. Jil knew nothing of that, nor should she.
“Indeed, that is the case,” I said, languidly. “But when I acquire a fresh enthusiasm, I pursue it with all my heart.”
“Very admirable,” Hopeli said.
“And is programming cards to dance your current enthusiasm?” Banitra asked, with a flirtatious lift of her long, dark eyelashes.
“Not at all,” I said. I collected my hand from the table where the decks had left it. “In fact, my current studies might be of interest to all of you. I am delving into superstitions.”
“What kind of superstitions?” Sinim asked, her lovely eyes alight with curiosity.
“Every kind of small behavior that a person exhibits that is intended to influence fate,” I said. “There are so many. Take, for example, the stricture that one should never step on a crack in the pavement lest it cause pain to one’s maternal unit. How one should affect the other is a matter of superstition, not reality. There is no cause and effect.”
“Well,” Banitra said, with a tiny smile, “your mother might just be hiding underneath the paving stones, and if you walk on them, you will break her back!”
“As if!” Hopeli said. “The paving stones would have done it first!”
“Exactly,” I said. “But we are not looking for direct causality here, but indirect. The intervention of unseen powers appears to change one’s luck, if you will, but I have not found one yet that achieves a level of scientific rigor.”
“Thomas tells fortunes,” Jil said.
“How marvelous,” Banitra said, leaning closer to me. She turned her large, dark eyes up into mine. “Will you tell me mine?”
“Of course,” I said. I put my viewpad on the table. “Open numerology program.”
The small device clicked and whirred as the correct colorful graphic appeared on its screen.
“Enter Banitra Savarola Wilcox,” I said.
On the screen appeared a series of numbers: 2159291 11419631 593366. A second line, then a third and a fourth, appeared beneath it:
29 + 26 + 32 = 87
8 + 7 = 15
1 + 5 = 6
“Oh, but that’s just a program!” Banitra protested.
“Ah, yes, but the magic comes when I interpret its findings,” I said, pointing at the first line. “There is a distinctly personal element that is part and parcel of this practice. You see, all the letters of your name add up to a total of eighty-seven.”
“And what is six?”
“One of the very best name numbers,” I said warmly. “It stands for dependability, wisdom and integrity.”
Banitra burst into shrieks of laughter. She grabbed my hand with both of hers. She had a surprisingly firm grip.
“Imagine me, dependable! Oh, what would my father say? He never knows where I am from one day to the next!”
“Do you see?” I said. “That is why I don’t rely upon superstitions.”
“Then why study them?” Jil asked.
“Because they are fun to investigate,” I said. “They often have striking origins. I am enjoying discovering the source of ones that have come down through the ages unexamined by those who invoke them daily.”
“Me next! Me next!” Sinim cried.
“There, now,” I said, smiling at them. “I have just proved to you that there’s no substance in it, but you still want your turn at the mystic’s table.”
Sinim’s name number, once I added in the rest of her noble family nomenclature, worked out to seven. She was very pleased at its psychic and magical overtones. Oddly enough, both Hopeli and Marquessa also had names that equaled seven.
Marquessa held out a trembling hand. Her eyes were huge with wonder.
“It means we were all supposed to be together,” she said. “That’s . . . that’s amazing.”
“What about mine?” Jil asked.
“What names are you most attached to?” I asked. “Like me, you have a wealth of middle and family names.”
She waved a vague hand. “Just a few. It’s so tedious to write them all out.”
So, I instructed my viewpad to calculate against “Jil Loche Nikhorunkorn.”