“Evidently not, sir.”
“How do you plead?”
I had no choice and no argument against the charges. I threw back my head in a heroic fashion.
“Guilty, sir.”
“Have you anything to say in your defense?”
In those words, I believe I heard the appeal of humankindness. I chanced a look down. Captain Naftil’s eyes were so dark it was hard to distinguish pity from discipline. I gulped back a sigh.
“All I can say, sir, is that the subject with whom I spoke to was planning what amounted to an anarchist’s attack. The ship might continue to be in danger if I had not interviewed that crewmember, sir. I believe that my actions saved numerous lives, sir.”
Naftil’s left eyebrow twitched slightly.
“You would not have been in a position to hear the confession if you had not been disobedient.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. Had I detected any softening at all in his tone? I did not believe that I had. I could have implicated Parsons, who had been seen by all of the security personnel who had intercepted first Goliffe then me in the garden. But if he had not been mentioned in the reading of the charges, I would not bring him up. One betrayal did not lead to another.
My viewpad began pinging, denoting one received message after another. With a glance for permission, I silenced the notification alerts.
“Very well. Your plea regarding your actions leaves me no choice. A ship cannot function if everyone simply does what he or she pleases. There is a chain of command that must be respected and followed. This court therefore finds you guilty. You are sentenced to serve one day in the brig.”
I had withdrawn into myself, fearing the worst. When my brain sorted out the assorted sounds of his final sentence, I peeped out of the protective shell I had gathered around myself.
“One . . . one day, sir?”
Naftil sighed. “Yes, Kinago. One day. Mitigating circumstances do apply here. We exist in a real world, where unintended consequences become more important than the act that precipitated them. But it will go on your record. Any final words?”
“But that’s outrageous, sir,” I said.
Naftil blinked.
“What?”
“Disobedience to a senior officer must be worthy of at least a week. I didn’t follow your instructions. You must see that it’s necessary to send a message to the rest of the crew that that kind of behavior can’t stand. What would my mother say?”
It took Naftil a moment to see the logic in my argument.
“I am the captain, Kinago. Are you questioning my authority?”
I smiled. That was the up-and-coming officer I knew him to be.
“No, indeed, sir.”
“One day. Is that clear?”
“Aye, sir,” I said, sweeping my hand up in a perfect salute. “I will serve it with honor.”
Naftil brought his hand down upon a blinking icon on his desk.
“Very well. This court is adjourned. Take him down.”
I dared not display the cockiness I felt as the bullet-headed ’bot escorted me to the deepest inhabited level of the ship, near the gravity core. One day! It was a trifle longer than I had spent after crashing into the Empress’s memorial statue, but hardly what I expected.
The real punishment would, I assumed, arrive in the guise of a message from my mother. I fully expected a thorough dressing down, during which she would chide me for being an idiot, another charge to which I would humbly plead guilty. No change there from my ordinary modus operandi. I was spared that humiliation, however, as no message came. Perhaps the maternal unit was too busy with more important matters, such as overseeing the defense in a major war breaking out in a vital star system. I was escorted down to the depths of the Bonchance. The corridors were surprisingly empty for that time of day. I missed spotting even one pair of sympathetic eyes.
“In there, Lieutenant,” said the senior security officer on duty in the brig, the very woman who had arrested me in the garden. I peered into the cell before entering. It measured half the size of my cabin, which I considered small to begin with. A bunk was secured to the floor. A combination hygiene unit with a long mirror above it was secured to the wall. A chair and a pull-down flap desk were installed beside the bed. A virtual home from home.
“Not as comfortable as the Taino city lockup, but a good deal cleaner,” I informed her cheerfully.
“Inside, Lieutenant,” she said.
I complied. The door closed behind me with a thunk. I paced the two steps to the wall and back again, feeling slightly let down. One day was hardly enough to take advantage of my surroundings. I longed for an extended meditation session. It would clear my mind. Still, one day was better than nothing. I sat down upon the thin mattress and drew my spine erect.
Yet, I had just assumed padmasana when the door of my cell slid open. I rose to my feet and stood at attention, as I had been instructed to do, should I ever occupy a military prison. A stocky male Croctoid in a security tunic stalked in. His bulky person, with particular emphasis on his thick tail, which switched back and forth impatiently, took up most of the space in my none-too-generous temporary quarters.
“Serves you right,” he said, his upper lip curling back to reveal his impressive dentition.
“I believe it does, sir,” I said, attempting to stare over his head. He grabbed my chin and pulled it down so our eyes were on a level. He fixed me with a spiteful leer. “You wouldn’t read my stars, but you read hers.”
“I hadn’t intended to read anyone else,” I protested. “But I . . . Parsons told me . . .” Then I remembered my own words to the captain, and ceased my unworthy defense. He seemed almost gleeful when he closed the door upon my prattling. I sat down upon the desk chair and contemplated the blank walls.
Not that continuing would have raised my reputation in the eyes of the security officer, or the hundreds of ill-wishers whose assessment of my situation coincided with his, which I discovered shortly on the comments queue on my Infogrid file.
I took responsibility for my own actions. It just made me feel rather despondent to be the only one who knew that I had done the right thing.
The night I spent in the lockup was one of the longest of my life. Penitentiaries were, as I had read once, were intended to provide a venue for those in them to learn to be penitent.
I vowed thereafter to be more self-searching, and only employ my interest upon those who really need it, not broadcast as though I were the sun beaming beneficence down upon the land. It was an entire equation. I was giving something, yes, but I was asking something in return: information. They were part of my study. Did they intend to be? No. Did I inform them of that fact? Well, yes, I had. Did they understand that?
Looking at the flaming entries on my Infogrid page, apparently not.
But I saved the ship, I thought to myself. That ought to count for something.
But did it?
I ate the survival rations that were served to me late that evening, feeling them as ashes in my mouth. I was cast adrift, alone, isolated. Sometimes I enjoyed a good wallow in self-pity, as who did not? But this one did not satisfy me. I settled on the bunk, staring toward the ceiling in the darkness.
A ping sounded from my viewpad. I was not entirely alone, then. Someone wished to communicate with me. I hoped it was Parsons. I felt that he owed me an explanation. I was undecided whether or not to speak to him until after the conclusion of our mission. Barring an apology from Parsons, I would have been happy for a kind word from anyone.
Instead, I received a missive unlike any that I had ever read in my life.
“Lord Thomas,” it began, “you don’t know us, but we need your help.”
The tap on the door came softly. Almost before Naftil lifted his head, the black-clad presence was before his desk.
“Commander Parsons.”
“Captain Naftil.”
“Are there any objections to my actions?” Naftil asked.
“None, sir,” P
arsons said. “Lord Thomas is unusually observant. It is better to distract him for the moment so he is concentrating on our mission when we depart. It is also good to have had all the ship’s eyes on him. It will raise fewer questions now, or later.”
“Good. I am very happy to cooperate.” Naftil hesitated, studying the lean, dark figure before him. “This is the first time I have been asked to assist in a covert operation. I rather enjoyed it.”
“The First Space Lord is grateful for your assistance.”
Naftil absorbed the praise, feeling like a small boy being given a prize at school. He tried not to wriggle with pleasure.
“I do admire her greatly, you know. I am a bit sorry I had to treat her son in that fashion. He is a charming young man.”
“It is one of his most useful traits,” Parsons said. Naftil tried to read his tone and failed.
“His concern for others is genuine, isn’t it? Not assumed? Many of my crew have become fond of him in this short time. I would hate to think it was all an act for the sake of your mission.”
A tiny crease appeared above the left corner of the other man’s upper lip.
“No, sir. He does care for those he befriends, captain. I fear that may do him more harm than good in the future, but he will cope. Or learn to.”
Naftil’s smile became broader.
“I watched the recording of the event that you set up. His interrogation of that poor young woman was masterful. He gleaned information about her mental state and that of the people manipulating her that none of the doctors or her co-workers suspected. It did almost seem like magic. He nearly had me convinced that I ought to ask for a reading.”
“Perhaps you should have one on the return journey, sir,” Parsons said. “He seems to have a unique gift for picking up on what is unsaid. He really is very perceptive, though in this case it is based upon specious nonsense.”
“Maybe a little nonsense is good for me,” the captain said. “But I must say I will be glad to have you depart.”
“Good for all of us, sir,” Parsons assured him.
As before, Parsons came to retrieve me from my incarceration. Brief as it was, I thought it had done me good. But I surveyed his baleful countenance with trepidation. I might still have been annoyed with him, but he was my eyes and ears in places I could not otherwise go.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
“The captain has his misgivings, but you have done a service to the navy. The young lady is being confined in the infirmary until she can be taken to a planetside hospital.”
I let out the remainder of the breath I had been holding.
“Well, that’s good, I must say. Having her choose the Two of Swords was almost prophetic to her state of mind, but it wasn’t until I did a further reading that I saw how disturbed she was.”
“It could happen to any of us exposed to your talents, my lord.”
I ignored the point of the jibe.
“Are you certain that my mother will not be perturbed by my actions?”
“I believe you will find that you have behaved precisely as she expected you to.”
I surveyed him, and remembered my grievance. I drew myself up.
“I will take that as a compliment, Parsons, however you intended it.”
Parsons gestured toward the lift.
“You should return to your cabin and pack, sir. We depart from the Bonchance in four hours.”
I admit that I goggled.
“Four hours! I will scarcely have time!”
Parsons regarded me with a disapproving stare.
“For what, sir?”
“For an act of gratitude, Parsons. I have a couple of gifts I wish to make before we leave. I must under the circumstances assume that you do not understand such a gesture. I promise you I will tell no one’s fortune, nor upset the motion of the stars.”
“Please do not make promises you cannot keep, my lord,” Parsons said, as he followed me into the moving compartment. “The astrogators are relying on those stars to remain in their courses.”
With Dee overseeing my workmanship through his optical receivers, I constructed the lucky circuit that I had designed for him.
“It is a trifle clumsy in construction,” I admitted, placing the finished device in one of his claw-hands, “but I hope you will enjoy it.”
The main camera moved close to the tiny nest of wires, agleam with blue and green lights, and a contented hum arose from Dee’s main casing.
“This has very pleasurable subsonics,” Dee said. “Thank you, Lieutenant Kinago Thomas.” He tucked it away inside his dome.
I had one more circuit to deliver. I sought out Gillian. She had been silent at the last dinner we had shared. Her longing looks in Corlota’s direction told me the source of her unhappiness.
I found the young second lieutenant on a hoverdisk, overseeing the repair of a cooling unit in a corridor ceiling.
“Do you have a moment?” I asked. At the sound of my voice she dropped a tool. I caught it one-handed. I could tell how deep in thought she had been. She saw it was me and hastily ordered the disk to land.
“Oh, Thomas!” she wailed, and threw herself into my arms. I patted her shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I saw Corlota with another first officer at mess.”
Gillian detached herself and reached for her regulation handkerchief. She dabbed at red eyes.
“Not your fault,” she said. “You told me I ought to pay attention to the truth and not delude myself. Your horoscope came true.”
“As a matter of fact, the stars had nothing to do with it,” I said. “I was reading you.” I folded her long fingers around the sparkling lights of light coral and warm gold. “Farewell. I hope you find someone who appreciates the person that you are.”
CHAPTER 20
M’Kenna had only her thoughts for company. The children hadn’t wanted to be knocked out again, and who could blame them? But Rafe had let the physician put the mask on his face. When he was lying down and breathing softly, she attached the drip bags to each arm.
“One replacement nanites,” she had explained, to four pairs of wide, dark brown eyes. “One antihistamines, suppressants, additional minerals.”
Rafe’s face relaxed. He remained peaceful and pain-free, so the kids allowed themselves to be hooked up. They’d all settled in so well that M’Kenna realized she didn’t have to run from one to another every half hour to make sure they were still breathing.
She had plenty of time over the following four days to go through her mail, and precious little to show for it. It seemed like there was a form letter everyone sent out to supplicants that the officials could not or did not want to handle. She got tired of reading the same excuses and evasions. In her mind, she composed angry retorts, but if there was any hope that a caring human being ever read her letters, she didn’t want to be turned down because she was obnoxious. But she was getting close to giving up hope of any outside help.
Then, on the very last day, when the kids were starting to stir on their bunks and Rafe’s eyelids were fluttering, she clicked on one of the replies, this one from the Imperium Navy. Black hole only knew how they had gotten involved, M’Kenna wondered, but maybe it was because all ships were subject to their authority.
“Dear Ms. Copper,” it began,
“We have reviewed your request for assistance. This is a most serious matter. We wish to receive more detail regarding your case.”
M’Kenna had begun to nod over the tablet, but that line shocked her awake. She read it two or three more times to make sure. More detail? They wanted to know more? She sat up in excitement. Was there someone out there who actually cared?
“Honey, read this!” she exclaimed, holding out the pad. But Rafe was still asleep. M’Kenna looked at the line of print again as though she could hardly believe it. Yes! Hope lifted her heart. What did they want to know?
At that moment, a noise from the children’s room attracted her attention. One of the kids must be waking up. S
he was torn between reading the rest of the message and checking on the sound, but the letter could wait. She put the tablet aside and went in to see which one of them was stirring.
“Hey!” she shouted. “Get away from her!”
An Uctu in a baggy beige coverall was bending over Nona’s bunk. M’Kenna couldn’t see what he was doing, but it didn’t matter. He had no right to touch her. She charged at him, pushing him away from her daughter.
“Back off! Who are you?”
“All right,” he said, his jaws slightly apart in an affable smile. “Medical staff.”
“If you’re medical staff,” M’Kenna said, staying at arm’s length from him, “show me your badge.”
Something in his demeanor told her that he knew she didn’t believe him. He reached into a pocket. M’Kenna went instantly on guard. She had no weapons, of course, but she had been trained in basic hand-to-hand combat. You never knew when someone was going to try and board your ship, or mug you in the corridors of a space station, or jump you way out somewhere on an atmosphered world. The Uctu brought out a flat orange disk and held it up.
It wasn’t credentials or a badge. M’Kenna didn’t know what it was, except that it had to be bad news. As she feared, he lunged for her, trying to tap her with it. She dodged to one side. He moved faster than she realized he could.
“How did you get in here?” she asked, circling around, hoping she didn’t run into a wall. “What do you want?”
He didn’t answer. She had always thought Geckos were kind of silly-looking. She had never met one that looked absolutely mean.
The intruder feinted with the orange disk, trying to hit her in the face. M’Kenna backed away.
“Help!” she yelled, hoping the guards were listening. “Someone help me!”
“What’s wrong?” Nuro, down the hall, shouted back.
“There’s an Uctu in here! He’s trying to hurt me!”
“Guards!” Nuro bellowed. She heard the door of the Wichus’ cell rattle. “Guards! Let us out of here! We need help!”
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