Rhythm of the Imperium

by Jody Lynn Nye

“But what if it was?” the girl asked. “What if it was one of our homeworlds that they decided to destroy?”

  “They wouldn’t do that,” Jil said. “The Zang could destroy any planet, but they don’t.”

  “They could!”

  “Anyone for another game of hide-and-seek?” I asked, casually, hoping to divert Sinim from her self-induced panic. “I volunteer to be It again. One of you will beat me eventually.”

  Erita patted a yawn. “Not now, dear. You’re too good at it. Perhaps later.”

  “Perhaps later means never with you, cousin,” I said.

  “Oh, no, I would never say never, Thomas!” Erita protested. Red blossomed on her sallow face. She had been caught out, and the others knew it. She wriggled her fingers at me. “Oh, very well. Once we know what we’re doing today. If there’s time, I will join your game. I have no idea why we are hovering here instead of going down to the planet to shop. I want a new belt to hold my pocket secretary.” She plucked at the virtual spiderweb that held her viewpad to her narrow midsection. As the forecast for the surface was quite warm with a mild breeze, that portion of her body was revealed to sight between a boned sapphire-colored bodice and a sweeping pale blue skirt. “This one is getting quite threadbare.”

  “It was threadbare to start with,” Jil observed, patting the embroidered pouch that hung at her side. “Why don’t you get something that will conceal your device properly? We don’t all need to see when someone calls you or sends you a file.”

  “Why shouldn’t everyone see when I get a message?” Erita countered. “You all know how popular I am.”

  I joined in the general fleering that greeted that statement. Erita waved at us again, then bent to concentrate on how her manicure was progressing. I did a couple of lunges to work my quadriceps, performed a handspring that landed in a creditable split which I wished Deirdre had witnessed, and went to see how the Jaunter was progressing at maneuvering us into a parking orbit.

  Through the viewport, I watched Counterweight turning serenely below us. It was a handsome place. Wide blue oceans covered more than half of its surface. I wanted to walk on a place that reminded our ancestors of our lost homeworld. What could be the holdup?

  As if to echo my concerns, the doors to the lift shaft opened up. Lionelle stalked out, looking like the big cat for which she had been named. My younger sister was dressed for a day out, in khaki shorts with knife-creased cuffs that showed off her legs, and a white blouse covered with pockets and loops, from some of which depended miniature versions of gadgets. She brandished at us a domelike hat with a wide brim suitable for keeping the sun from ruining her perfect complexion.

  “I can’t stand it!” she declared. Such a dramatic entrance required attention.

  “What is the matter?” I inquired. “We have attained orbit.”

  “But not parking orbit!” Nell said. “Has anyone reported to us? I can see the massive way station on the equatorial continent below. In fact, I’ve seen it go by more than thirty times! Why are the shuttles still blocked off?”

  “I have no idea, Nell,” I said. I beckoned to her. “We’ll get down there soon. Come and have a bite to eat. Would you like to try one of my fruit purees? They will replenish your electrolytes brilliantly. I recommend the papaya-mango.”

  “My electrolytes are fine!” she said, throwing up a hand in impatience. “When are we landing? I want to see Counterweight. There’s a train of real elephants going into the mountain jungle above the principal city. Elephants! Descended from the very beasts who walked on Earth itself! I am supposed to be on the lead beast! It’s all white, and it’s been painted with my coat of arms. I have a half bushel of apples for it from Great-Aunt Sforzina’s private orchard! I thought you would be impatient as anything, Thomas. Aren’t you signed up for the tour?”

  “Not on this leg,” I said. “I have a reservation for our return journey. Today I had planned a flying tour, then a pub crawl to be followed by a race tournament in atmosphere flitters. My vehicle is in the hold, prepped and fueled. You shouldn’t worry. They’ll wait for you, you know. You’re a member of the Imperium house. They wouldn’t dare depart without you.”

  “But what is the delay?” Nell asked, flapping her hat as though battering down invisible barriers. “They’re not telling us anything! Go and find out, will you, Thomas? There’s a dear. You have a way of worming information out of the dullest sources.”

  “Of course, Nell,” I said, glad of activity that would take advantage of my brimful energy. I gave her a most elegant bow, with the back of my hand sweeping over my outstretched foot. “In the meanwhile, relax. I will report back as soon as possible. Over and out.”

  Nell laughed. I strode back to the lift shaft.

  While I rode down the shaft of air, I checked my viewpad. No emergency messages had arrived from Parsons explaining the delay. Instead, I sent him a query. By the time I reached the command level, he still had not replied. To me that meant that something was up, and that he was involved. In the absence of further information, I had better ask the captain xirself what was going on.

  I stepped off onto the platform and prepared to walk through, but the door did not automatically open. Instead, a red lens shimmered into life.

  “Identify yourself,” the wall said.

  “Lord Thomas Kinago,” I replied. “Surely you have been programmed to identify all of us. What’s your name?”

  “Please present credentials,” the wall replied, without further courtesy.

  I raised my eyebrows, but that did not seem to be enough outrage to overcome the wall’s obduracy. Beginning to experience the first moments of pique, I thought of acting out all my family’s frustration. It was far simpler to unlimber the viewpad from the pouch at my waist and hold the screen up for the red eye to read.

  The door opened at once, revealing the dullest-looking corridor I had yet beheld on the Imperium Jaunter. It was as functional as it was unappealing. The beige kickplates were scuffed, and the stone-gray padding was of the most utilitarian to be had.

  “Pass,” said the wall.

  “Thank you,” I said, holding my chin high. “May I say that it has not been a pleasure interacting with you.”

  “Forgive me, Lord Thomas,” the wall said, almost plaintively. “I am on duty.” I felt abashed at my discourtesy.

  “Ah. Forgive me. Thank you for your service. Let us speak later on, when you’re off shift.”

  “We shall. I am WA-946l. I must close. Please pass.”

  I did so. My heels clattered noisily upon the uncarpeted gray deck. I would have to speak to my mother upon my return. That a section of the vessel was utilitarian did not mean it needed to be ugly.

  Most of the common spaces on the Jaunter were segregated according to function. Our quarters, dining, entertainment center and day room were in a section all together in the center of the ship. Our support staff, including Madame Deirdre, a few reporters, some friends not of noble blood, and the other professionals hired for the journey occupied the section forward to that. They shared dining facilities and so on with the crew of the ship, who, apart from the engineering section in the stern, were located even further forward, just below the bridge and senior officers’ cabins. I peered into the officers’ gray-walled day room as I passed. It lay vacant. That in itself was unusual. Considering the size of the crew, there ought to have been a few there, answering correspondence, playing a game or so in the full-sized gymnasium, watching digitavids on the utilitarian but very good facilities installed there. (We insisted that our crews have only the best to occupy them when they were not caring for our needs.) Meals sat half-eaten, and a forlorn-looking LAI rolled around the room picking up trays. The diners had vacated in a hurry, and not that long ago. Something unusual was afoot.

  The bridge was “up” a deck on its own in the center of the command center. A mechanical lift ran up to it, but it was not operational, even to one with my credentials. I sprang up the coated metal stairs that spiraled aroun
d it.

  That chamber, which usually held eight or so bridge officers and the captain, a celebrated officer named Melane Wold, was crowded with humans, Uctu and Wichu, in uniform. I excused and pardoned my way through them toward the center seat, but it was unoccupied. I glanced around. All the senior officers, including all of my crew from the Rodrigo, were absent. Parsons was nowhere in sight.

  Lieutenant Hamesworth, a sturdy young woman with very short-clipped silver-and-blue hair, whose rank was second helmswoman, glanced up at me.

  “Good morning, my lord,” she said. The Wichu navigator beside her gave me a curt nod.

  “What is going on?” I asked. “My cousins and I were looking forward to going groundside.”

  Hamesworth looked a little sheepish.

  “I can’t say, my lord.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Can’t,” Lieutenant Argelev, the Wichu, said. “They’re all in the captain’s ready room.” He nodded toward the side of the command center. Of the three doors set into that wall, one was surrounded by tiny red lights, indicating No Entry.

  I began to be concerned for our well-being. I wondered if I should abandon my present course of action to go instruct my cousins and sister to hide in the diverse locations that had been made secure for their safety? What excuse would I give? Persuading them to play hide-and-seek was one thing. Dashing into the room and insisting on a game without further explanation when we were supposed to be preparing for a grand day out would be greeted with eye-rolls and derisive laughter.

  No, I needed to know more.

  “What event in the last six hours made them want to hold a conference?” I asked. I indicated the press of bodies around me. “Obviously, all of you know what has occurred, and you are awaiting some outcome. Won’t you please tell me what it is?”

  Argelev snickered.

  “You’re just going to have to wait to find out, sir, my lord.”

  “I disagree most fervently with that assessment, lieutenant,” I said. “I seldom wait. I am always seeking.”

  In the absence of Parsons, I realized I was going to have to do my own frowning and pondering. Therefore, I frowned and pondered. If the matter was a life-threatening one, the Jaunter would have removed itself from orbit and made for a safe location, leaving the naval support ships to provide safe escape for her. Therefore, it was not immediately life-threatening. It had not been known before, or some arrangement would have been made in advance to cope with it. Therefore, it had come as an unwelcome surprise. It was a potential threat that affected the entire ship, or the rest of the crew would not be occupying less than optimum space per being in the bridge, nor would the captain have allowed so many to have left their stations. Therefore, it could affect every department. I did not see Parsons. Therefore, he was in on the discussion, making it important across more departments than just the navy. No one had informed me or my cousins as to what that event was, so it was something that would inconvenience us and cause annoyance that would cause us to complain and demand a solution. Therefore, they wanted to confer before they approached us with a change of plans. I thought, under those circumstances, it was within my right to ask for details. I could at least forestall the last of the concerns by bringing accurate information back to my cousins and friends.

  With many more excuses and pardons, I threaded my way through to the secure door. I knocked upon it.

  “No admittance,” the door said. Its voice was similar but not identical to the wall near the lift. I presented my viewpad to the electric eye next to the frame. “I am sorry, Lord Thomas, but this conference is closed to those of noble rank.”

  “Ah, but I am also an officer,” I said. “A senior officer, at that. I am the commander of the Rodrigo, a naval ship with armaments and offensive capabilities, in the hold of this very vessel. Look here.” I changed the setting to my naval credentials and turned the screen back toward the eye.

  “Your pardon, sir,” the door said. It promptly slid aside. “Please enter at once.”

  CHAPTER 8

  “This isn’t funny,” Whiskerchin’s Captain Bedelev concluded, her face close to the video pickup. The officers clustered in the Jaunter’s ready room listened intently. “I’m stuck in my cabin. Most of us are! As soon as we went off shift, our doors stopped working! My people can’t get into their stations or out of them. They’re worried that the environmental systems are gonna shut down at any moment, and there’s not a flerking thing we can do about it! So am I! That snoff-faced Kail has got the whole ship under his control. We’re stuck! If you can see this message, get us out of here! Or if you can’t save us, nuke the ship from space. Harro knows who else those stone-assed giants will take over next.”

  The transmission blacked out, to be replaced by the Imperium seal. The six humans and two Uctu at the oval table in the small chamber sat back in their molded seats, troubled expressions mirrored on all their faces. The two captains of the naval escort ships, Captain Colwege and Captain Lopez were present, courtesy of the tri-dee projectors in the ceiling, making it look as if they sat at the table, too. Ormalus, the Uctu communications officer, switched off the system. The mechanism lowered itself into the surface of the table.

  Captain Melane Wold looked up from the screen. A slightly built human of average height with large eyes and hollow cheeks accentuating the shapely bones of xir face, xir delicate features belied the resilience and toughness reflected in xir service record. Xe wore a grim expression.

  “And that’s the ship that came into orbit around Counterweight at the same time we did,” xe said, turning a slim hand upward. Xe glanced at Parsons, who occupied the seat at xir right hand. “I’ve taken evasive maneuvers to ensure that we’re not in a common vector with it. The helm is ready to blast us out of here immediately if we have to.”

  Parsons nodded. “Your precautions are admirable, Captain.”

  The rest of the officers, Lieutenant Plet included, nodded and murmured agreement.

  “Carrying too many of the Imperium’s precious eggs in one basket,” Wold said, wrinkling xir nose. “The crew’s been running scenarios from the moment we heard this trip was in the offing. There was no chance I’d put the Emperor’s cousins in jeopardy.”

  “We’re keeping fighters ready to launch in case the Wichu ship makes a move,” Lopez said. She was a tall woman with patrician features and warm brown complexion. Colwege, a white-haired, snub-nosed man with black, button-like eyes, nodded agreement.

  “His Highness will appreciate your vigilance.” Parsons said, gravely.

  “But now what do we do? How did the Kail take over the Whiskerchin?” Wold asked. “They don’t seem to care whether their captives communicate with the outside world. Do they think that they’re unassailable?”

  “Aren’t they afraid we’ll open fire on them?” asked Commander Atwell, the Jaunter’s ordnance officer. He smacked a fist down on the tabletop. “That’s an act of piracy! We’d be within our rights to take them down.”

  “No one wants to see a loss of life,” Parsons replied, his voice a soothing lull. “The Wichu is carrying a number of civilians. Has anyone asked the Kail what they want?”

  “Of course we did!” Wold said, spots of hectic color appearing on xir cheeks. “They don’t want to talk to us. They’re demanding to speak to Proton Zang. I’ve told them that it hasn’t arrived yet. They insist that it has, but they don’t know where. They want us to bring it to them.”

  “Have they said how they are aware of the Zang’s presence?” Parsons inquired. Wold shook xir head and opened xir mouth to speak.

  At that moment, the door slid open, and a head popped in. The appearance of the newcomer provoked a fragment of amusement in Parsons, but he kept his face from revealing it.

  “Lord Thomas,” he said in a level voice.

  “What ho, Parsons?” the young man said, cheerfully. His face was flush with triumph, as though he had achieved some minor victory. He turned and offered a handsome salute to the senio
r officer. “Good morning, captain. Captains.” He extended his greeting to the two holograms.

  “Lord Thomas,” Wold said, narrowing xir eyes slightly. “How did you get in here? Every system is on emergency lockdown!”

  “The door didn’t stop me.” The young noble held up his viewpad. His military identification showed on the small screen. “I showed it my credentials, and it let me in.”

  “I’ll have a word with it! You shouldn’t have been able to pass!”

  “His duties, captain,” Parsons said. He checked his chronometer. Lord Thomas was a few seconds ahead of the time Parsons had estimated he might arrive. “As I told you, Lord Thomas requires access to the scout ship.”

  As evidenced by the strands of silver peeking through the captain’s thick hair, xe had not been born within the last forty-eight hours. Xe gave Parsons a searching look, asking for further explanation. Thomas did not miss the expression. He saluted again.

  “Lieutenant-Captain Lord Thomas Kinago at your service. My sister told me that no shuttles are going down to the surface. We’re all panting to begin our touristing. Is there some way I may be of assistance? Perhaps my ship the Rodrigo could be pressed into service if the shuttles are otherwise occupied?”

  “You’re attached to the Rodrigo?” Wold asked, with an air of disbelief.

  Thomas lowered his eyes modestly. “It is, in fact, attached to me. It’s my ship. I am its senior officer.”

  “Lieutenant Plet is the commanding officer of record,” Wold replied, with a nod toward the severe-looking blonde woman sitting on one side of the table.

  Thomas smiled in a supercilious fashion. “Yes, that’s the way the official record reads, but I hold superior rank to her. And to you. No offense, of course.”

  “With all due respect, your lordship, that has nothing to do with …”

  Parsons thought it best to intervene.

  “If I may, captain? I need to impart a piece of confidential information that must not be known outside this room … ?”