Chapter 40
Jim Vassilakos
I wasn’t really seeing them, per se, at least not in the usual sense of the word. An echo of a memory from Josefeen’s training fluttered across my consciousness like a moth flirting with a flame. One of her instructors once described the science behind psionic clairvoyance, and since she didn’t possess that specific talent, she was only halfway paying attention, but he kept talking about the local probability matrix. It was quantum in nature, which was somehow mathematically useful to know for those who worked in the technology end of psionics. The upshot was that I was accessing senses that had no three-dimensional counterpart, but they were exquisite and somehow felt entirely natural.
Beyond the door were six people and one robot, which I presumed to be Olav. Amika stood beside it. She’d accompanied the robot, officially at the request of the Countess but actually at her own request, because she wanted to make General Dakhir jealous. Of course, she understood her designs to be far-fetched given that Olav was not an actual person and had no real status beyond the collective memory of those who still revered his name. Beside her stood my old shipmate, Guri Maakhiriin, who was accompanying her as her escort and guard, and then there was Ensign Florence, hanging toward the back. Her job was to monitor Olav with the pause remote firmly in hand, watching for any sign of malfunction.
If I’d let the major fire on that gravcar, I would have very likely killed them all. That would have been messy.
“He left?” Amika asked, referring to me.
“Toward the stage,” Captain Masa said, not quite sure if this wasn’t all some elaborate hallucination. He’d seen the faceless Stavelot a number of times while she and the Admiral were courting. Of course, she wasn’t faceless back then. She was beautiful, but in a weathered sort of way, not at all the high society type, which was the Admiral’s usual preference. Karneticky once mentioned that she could use some makeup. Masa disagreed but said nothing. It was generally best to say nothing to or about nobles as well as those adjacent to them, so when she’d said hello to him in passing, he’d merely smiled and nodded. Now, however, he decided what his wish would be.
“When will you be getting your new face?” he asked her.
“Excuse me?” A spike of irritation fired her brain. What did he mean by that? Did he mean she looked terrible? Like a robot, perhaps? Well, what did it matter? It was all so fast, and these were not even thoughts so much as emotions tinged by insecurity.
“I heard you’ve ordered one,” he went on, oblivious to the fact he’d offended her. “Will it be like your old face or something different?”
Her mind locked up for a moment, but then she understood he didn’t mean any harm. With the cup in his hand and Canon Regimath Forklinbrass standing next to him, it was obvious to her the poor man had been drugged. Oh, Reggie, you’re incorrigible.
“It’ll be the same as before,” she replied.
“Oh, good,” Masa said and smiled. “I hope it comes soon and that you can be back to your old self. It must have been a nightmare, all that you’ve gone through.”
“It has been,” she said, nodding. I could sense her reply even before she gave it. I could even sense the speech center of her brain activating what remained of the muscles in her throat, which in turn activated the electronic voice box that had been installed where her mouth used to be. But most of all, I could sense some part of her, deep inside her mind, lighting up at his “Oh, good.” It was the kindest thing any stranger had said to her in what seemed like a long while. And then she remembered passing by him a couple of times and saying hello, and how he would always smile and nod but say nothing in return, and then she’d wonder if her breath stank or if she had a booger hanging out of one nostril.
“Would anyone like a drink?” the Canon asked.
“Don’t tempt me,” Amika said, “and no offense, but I would never accept a drink from you, Reggie. Perhaps we should see what’s going on outside?”
In the back of his mind, the Canon was thinking about the Soul of God he’d seen me chasing. He’d recognized it for what it was, but he also knew it to be associated with psionics, which he well understood to be verboten, yet he was still moved by the inordinate degree of respect I’d shown him earlier when I expressed Kalan Sishame, and he was determined that whatever was going on, he would help me, convinced that this was the will of the Universe.
“Wait,” he said as Amika started for the door.
“Wait? Why?”
“Ah…” the Canon turned toward Captain Masa, his mind drawing a momentary blank.
“There’s something weird going on,” Masa said.
I stepped away from Josefeen, breaking physical contact, but that hardly seemed to matter at this point. Our psionic connection was intense, so much stronger than before. The psi orb, Soul of God, or whatever it was stopped pulsing, but it stayed in my hand, its pouch still at my feet. I bent down, picked the pouch off the floor, and carefully slipped it back where it belonged. «This is only for a little while,» I reassured it before tightening the drawstring, though I was unsure it would understand.
The diplomatic case was nowhere to be seen. Josefeen had obviously left it in the green room.
«Hide this.» I locked eyes with her as I handed her the pouch. «You back from tripping?»
She nodded as the door to the green room opened, Amika standing there with Guri and what looked like a robot with the helmeted head of Olav.
“Well, hello again,” Amika said. “What’s this I hear about a bubble machine?”
Conrad Rader
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Jim Vassilakos
“Bubble machine?” I tried to make as bland and confused an expression as my face was capable of forming. “I’m sorry, milady. Someone must have misspoke. There are no bubble machines here.” «Lieutenant, what did you call my knack for influencing people?»
«Manipulation.»
“I told you it was a hallucination,” the Canon said, somewhat manipulatively for a holy man. “My apologies, Captain,” he added from somewhere behind Amika. “I couldn’t resist a little chemical evangelism.”
“Dear Cleon!” Masa exclaimed, tossing to the sink the little bit of remaining coffee still in his cup. “You’re a menace!”
“Tell me about it.” Josefeen said, entering the room.
“Nobody’s perfect,” the Canon replied as I followed Josefeen back inside. “So would anyone else like a drink?”
“Perhaps later, Your Grace,” I said. “Right now it’s time to get this show on the road.”
I took a good hard look at the Olav robot. It appeared that someone had slapped a small 3-D monitor on the chassis of some law enforcement model. Instead of a glass top, however, the monitor was encased in a helmet, so that one could only see his face from the front, which was, needless to say, projected. And though it looked back at me, its gaze was just a little bit off center, being slightly high and to the left. In short, this was obviously slapped together in haste.
Ensign Florence gave me a quick nod, holding the remote tightly. I could imagine she might be a little uncomfortable in the company she was keeping. Poor Ensign. She’d just have to get used to it.
“I communicated your request to the Countess’s Chief of Staff,” Guri said. “As for now, if you could provide me with any evidence in support of the accusations you’ve made, I will certainly pass it on.”
He was telling me the truth, but he was leaving out a few important things. He’d already seen the video of the arrest. He and the Chief of Staff had discussed it, and Guri said some disparaging things about me, things that would no doubt be relayed to the Countess. “That blowhard has relied on family name and connections to get out of every scrape he’s ever gotten himself into, but Karneticky isn’t his admiral and doesn’t want to touch this mess with a ten-meter cattle prod.”
“We are very sorry about what happened with the HPSS,” Amika added. She’d been sitting to the side, listening to that conversation as it happened, which meant they probably all heard it, the Olav robot included. Guri was sure I’d stepped into a big pile of poo, and he was determined to make the most of it.
In light of this new information, let me know if Gus still continues with this:
“Captain Masa. Lt Abbonette has recovered and I would like to get things back on track if you would. I would like to conclude this ceremony and return to my ship so we can dispense with the Interdict and get to the bottom of why the local police felt it necessary to shoot officers of the Imperial Navy."
Conrad Rader
“Bubble machine?” I tried to make as bland and confused an expression as my face was capable of forming. “I’m sorry, milady. Someone must have misspoke. There are no bubble machines here.” «Lieutenant, what did you call my knack for influencing people?»
«Manipulation.»
“I told you it was a hallucination,” the Canon said, somewhat manipulatively for a holy man. “My apologies, Captain,” he added from somewhere behind Amika. “I couldn’t resist a little chemical evangelism.”
“Dear Cleon!” Masa exclaimed, tossing to the sink the little bit of remaining coffee still in his cup. “You’re a menace!”
“Tell me about it.” Josefeen said, entering the room.
“Nobody’s perfect,” the Canon replied as I followed Josefeen back inside. “So would anyone else like a drink?”
“Perhaps later, Your Grace,” I said. “Right now it’s time to get this show on the road.”
I took a good hard look at the Olav robot. It appeared that someone had slapped a small 3-D monitor on the chassis of some law enforcement model. Instead of a glass top, however, the monitor was encased in a helmet, so that one could only see his face from the front, which was, needless to say, projected. And though it looked back at me, its gaze was just a little bit off center, being slightly high and to the left. In short, this was obviously slapped together in haste.
Ensign Florence gave me a quick nod, holding the remote tightly. I could imagine she might be a little uncomfortable in the company she was keeping. Poor Ensign. She’d just have to get used to it.
“I communicated your request to the Countess’s Chief of Staff,” Guri said. “As for now, if you could provide me with any evidence in support of the accusations you’ve made, I will certainly pass it on.”
He was telling me the truth, but he was leaving out a few important things. He’d already seen the video of the arrest. He and the Chief of Staff had discussed it, and Guri said some disparaging things about me, things that would no doubt be relayed to the Countess. “That blowhard has relied on family name and connections to get out of every scrape he’s ever gotten himself into, but Karneticky isn’t his admiral and doesn’t want to touch this mess with a ten-meter cattle prod.”
“We are very sorry about what happened with the HPSS,” Amika added. She’d been sitting to the side, listening to that conversation as it happened, which meant they probably all heard it, the Olav robot included. Guri was sure I’d stepped into a big pile of poo, and he was determined to make the most of it.
In light of this new information, let me know if Gus still continues with this:
“Captain Masa. Lt Abbonette has recovered and I would like to get things back on track if you would. I would like to conclude this ceremony and return to my ship so we can dispense with the Interdict and get to the bottom of why the local police felt it necessary to shoot officers of the Imperial Navy."
That reminded me.
"Jaqueline, status report."
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Jim Vassilakos
“This seems a little thrown together. Do you really feel, or should I say, does the Countess feel this is an appropriate showing at a memorial ceremony for our fallen comrades?”
“It’s merely a request, yours to grant or deny as you see fit, Captain, though I talked to Mr. Agidda, and he approved the idea personally.”
I reached out with my psychic tentacle and felt for Amika’s thoughts. I was getting used to her mask, and I hoped my new senses would give me a fuller image of the woman who chose to call attention to her wounds rather than hiding them. In my mind, I saw her talking to a doctor of reconstructive and cosmetic surgery.
“There are two major options,” she was told.
Oh good. A fork in the road.
Either they could fix her up with a series of procedures that would hopefully leave her fully restored or she could select the dynamic mask option, which was much more expensive and higher tech. There were significant pros and cons, but the big advantage of dynamic masks was that she’d be able to look like nearly anyone.
Of course, a d-mask was the sort of high-tech gadget that was beyond the reach of most people, especially those on low and moderate tech worlds such as Jewell. And the procedure would render her face mostly insensitive to touch. But she’d still be able to smile, frown, and so forth regardless of the face she wore. The reason for the insensitivity was that her facial nerves would have to be spliced into the synthetic nerves of a configurable facial mount, which would have to be installed first. But once this was complete, she’d be able to walk around in the guise of random strangers or even people she knew. Most importantly, and the reason the Countess was supportive, was that she’d be able to stand in for Helena at public events the Countess didn’t want to attend. Because they were so close, the Countess trusted Amika to do this and to do it competently.
She’d gone ahead with the operation and had already gone back halfway through the healing process for an adjustment. Very soon, however, she’d be visited by doctors who would do a final re-tweak. She already had several masks she was itching to apply, different ones for different skin tones and hair styles. She even bought one to make her look Darrian. Why, she had no idea. Maybe she just wanted to look smart.
“In any case,” she continued, “don’t be fooled by Olav’s visual focus seeming a little off center. The crowd won’t notice — they’ll be too far away — nor will people watching on their viewies. In any case, he’s quite the good talker, if you’ll give him a chance.”
“Ouch,” Olav said.
“What?” she asked.
“Back in my day, calling someone a good talker was akin to calling them a liar.”
“Oh, well, maybe you are. How would I know?”
I couldn’t read his mind, but Olav gritted his holographic teeth and made a little smile, the sort one might make when feeling unjustly attacked, albeit in a playful manner. They’d been flirting, I suddenly realized, and she rather fancied him on a personal level, even though any sort of future with a robot was, of course, completely out of the question. In any case, over the last few years and for reasons she couldn’t consciously identify, she’d only found herself attracted to uniformed men, specifically those of rank. It felt weird and perhaps even a little unseemly, as though the business of mating had suddenly become transactional, but her psychiatrist assured her it was all perfectly natural.
Timothy Collinson
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PO1 2ST
Conrad Rader
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Jim Vassilakos
(Timothy, please let us know how you're doing when you get a chance. I do hope the surgery went well.)
I considered the matter of robot human relations a moment further, and shook it off, Not really my concern. The part about men in uniform and Darrians, however…
«Josefeen, what does it look like when someone is under a compulsion?» I didn’t need to refer to Amika and these odd desires she’d apparently noticed. Josefeen and I were now linked in a way that whatever crossed the awareness of one of us, everything from thoughts to perceptions to even our respective emotional states, was observable by the other. Indeed, two sensory feeds and two trains of thought, albeit intertwined, was a bit overwhelming. I was sure it was making us both look a little spacy, which was fine for her, as she had the Canon’s evangelism as an excuse, but for me it wasn’t such a great look.
In any case, I could sense her own curiosity right alongside mine. We were like two knights on a chessboard, a powerful combination, so long as we acted on concert. The upshot was that these compulsions of Amika looked to Josefeen like possible manipulation.
«It’s worth a deeper look,» she thought as she put the orb’s pouch back in the diplomatic case, the Canon’s gaze following her every move. «He knows too much. I don’t suppose you’d let me euthanize him?»
“Captain Masa,” I said, deciding some questions were unworthy of a response, “I would really like to conclude our participation in the ceremony and attend to the issue of the Interdiction from the more controlled confines of the Jaqueline.”
“Of course,” Masa said. “Your Holiness, would you please come with me?”
“Of course. I hope I’m not under arrest.”
“No… no… you’re going to give a speech.”
“I am?”
They walked into the corridor I’d told Corporal Hoskins to guard, and he stood to the side to let them pass, everyone following, and soon we all turned a corner, went through a door, and found ourselves in a backstage area.
“How are we doing?” Captain Masa asked a lieutenant, who turned from what looked like a security monitor. It displayed a matrix of video feeds showing various escalator portals, which were situated at even intervals along the stadium’s circumference. People were still coming in, many of them Navy personnel, but there were also what looked like members of the general public, most of them dressed in black.
“The Interdiction slowed down seating,” he said, glancing toward me.
“Captain Plankwell, Lieutenant Agu.”
“Sir,” the Lieutenant said, offering his hand. As we shook and looked into each other’s eyes, I could sense he’d recently talked to Major Fa’Linto, arranging the details of the timing and presentation of the honor guard, and as they’d talked, he’d asked if the Major knew anything about the Interdiction.
“Yeah. The locals put a hand on Navy, and they got it slapped. If I’m not mistaken in my assessment of this Captain, they’ll get it slapped worse and maybe even cut off, if they ever try it again.”
Legally, such matters were ultimately adjudicated by the reigning noble, in this case the Countess, but Fa’Linto was apparently not one to be burdened by legal processes, particularly with respect to a world on which he was not actually stationed. Agu, on the other hand, had to watch himself, though he was of the opinion that the locals should not touch Navy unless it involved a bunch of dogfaces burning down a nightclub, so he simply nodded, taking it onboard that I was not the sort of man who gladly suffers fools.
Well, I was suffering Josefeen.
«I heard that.» She was thinking that while this was all very interesting, it wasn’t getting us any closer to what was going on with Amika. Meanwhile, Guri approached me. He’d just gotten a message from the Countess’s Chief of Staff.
“The Countess hereby directs you to drop the interdiction,” he said. “Your dispute with the HPSS, if you wish to continue it, will be put before the County Magisterial Court for expedited adjudication.” Where I hope you go down in flames.
His words were loud enough to grab the attention of everyone backstage, which meant all eyes were now on me.
Conrad Rader
(Timothy, please let us know how you're doing when you get a chance. I do hope the surgery went well.)
I considered the matter of robot human relations a moment further, and shook it off, Not really my concern. The part about men in uniform and Darrians, however…
«Josefeen, what does it look like when someone is under a compulsion?» I didn’t need to refer to Amika and these odd desires she’d apparently noticed. Josefeen and I were now linked in a way that whatever crossed the awareness of one of us, everything from thoughts to perceptions to even our respective emotional states, was observable by the other. Indeed, two sensory feeds and two trains of thought, albeit intertwined, was a bit overwhelming. I was sure it was making us both look a little spacy, which was fine for her, as she had the Canon’s evangelism as an excuse, but for me it wasn’t such a great look.
In any case, I could sense her own curiosity right alongside mine. We were like two knights on a chessboard, a powerful combination, so long as we acted on concert. The upshot was that these compulsions of Amika looked to Josefeen like possible manipulation.
«It’s worth a deeper look,» she thought as she put the orb’s pouch back in the diplomatic case, the Canon’s gaze following her every move. «He knows too much. I don’t suppose you’d let me euthanize him?»
“Captain Masa,” I said,
deciding some questions were unworthy of a response, “I would really like to conclude our participation in the ceremony and attend to the issue of the Interdiction from the more controlled confines of the Jaqueline.”“Of course,” Masa said. “Your Holiness, would you please come with me?”
“Of course. I hope I’m not under arrest.”
“No… no… you’re going to give a speech.”
“I am?”
They walked into the corridor I’d told Corporal Hoskins to guard, and he stood to the side to let them pass, everyone following, and soon we all turned a corner, went through a door, and found ourselves in a backstage area.
“How are we doing?” Captain Masa asked a lieutenant, who turned from what looked like a security monitor. It displayed a matrix of video feeds showing various escalator portals, which were situated at even intervals along the stadium’s circumference. People were still coming in, many of them Navy personnel, but there were also what looked like members of the general public, most of them dressed in black.
“The Interdiction slowed down seating,” he said, glancing toward me.
“Captain Plankwell, Lieutenant Agu.”
“Sir,” the Lieutenant said, offering his hand. As we shook and looked into each other’s eyes, I could sense he’d recently talked to Major Fa’Linto, arranging the details of the timing and presentation of the honor guard, and as they’d talked, he’d asked if the Major knew anything about the Interdiction.
“Yeah. The locals put a hand on Navy, and they got it slapped. If I’m not mistaken in my assessment of this Captain, they’ll get it slapped worse and maybe even cut off, if they ever try it again.”
Legally, such matters were ultimately adjudicated by the reigning noble, in this case the Countess, but Fa’Linto was apparently not one to be burdened by legal processes, particularly with respect to a world on which he was not actually stationed. Agu, on the other hand, had to watch himself, though he was of the opinion that the locals should not touch Navy unless it involved a bunch of dogfaces burning down a nightclub, so he simply nodded, taking it onboard that I was not the sort of man who gladly suffers fools.
Well, I was suffering Josefeen.
«I heard that.» She was thinking that while this was all very interesting, it wasn’t getting us any closer to what was going on with Amika. Meanwhile, Guri approached me. He’d just gotten a message from the Countess’s Chief of Staff.
“The Countess hereby directs you to drop the interdiction,” he said. “Your dispute with the HPSS, if you wish to continue it, will be put before the County Magisterial Court for expedited adjudication.” Where I hope you go down in flames.
His words were loud enough to grab the attention of everyone backstage, which meant all eyes were now on me.
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Jim Vassilakos
I thought about the many people I’d killed over the course of the war, and Josefeen had her fair share of clandestine kills as well. Neither of us were strangers to violence in pursuit of Imperial objectives, and so I considered her suggestion seriously rather than simply waiving it off.
«He knows,» I replied, looking toward the Canon, «but so far he is aiding us or at least not interfering.» The Canon looked toward me, noticing my gaze, but instead of looking away, I locked my gaze onto his eyes and reached into his mind, trying to perceive the shape of his memories and learn what he knew of the orb.
Regimath had cleared many hurdles to get accepted as a Shepherd of the Order of the Silver Chalice. Given the nature of their mission, they were perpetually blessed with an abundance of applicants. Hence, they were able to be selective, so part of the process of becoming ordained involved a series of examinations regarding the history and philosophy behind spirituality through altered states as well as the rampant hedonism that often accompanied it.
Although these Deacons of Drugs, as they were sometimes called, ostensibly had the best job in the universe, they were a stoic lot, generally known for the seriousness of their meditations. So when, on the final day of his examinations, they asked him why he’d first decided to join the order, he was tempted to talk about spiritually and so forth. But then, looking at them all, he realized he couldn’t lie.
“When I began,” he said, “all I wanted was a job where I could be stoned all day, and I wouldn’t get in trouble.”
“Since then, what did you learn?” one asked.
Again, he was tempted to regurgitate the subject matter of his examinations, but the essential truth at the bottom of it all was dishearteningly simple.
“What I learned? What I learned is that I know nothing. Nobody knows anything. We think we know things, and what we think becomes what we believe, but what do we really know? What have we really learned?”
“What do you believe?”
“I believe in the unanswerable, in the Divine Mystery, but like a snail pondering the machinations of human beings… I’m sorry if this is the wrong answer, but it’s all I’ve got. There are things I doubt I’ll ever understand, no matter how many drugs I take.”
One of them pulled out the Eye of God and nodded, and that’s how he’d been accepted, learning later only that it was some sort of lie detector. He’d never touched it. It was to be touched only by a select few, the Supreme Stoners, who, it was said, had delved so deeply into the Divine Mystery that they had essentially blinded themselves to the physical world. Now that he was semi-retired, it was the Canon’s hope that he would one day find his way to this path, although it would mean giving up everything.
In his heart of hearts, he simply wanted to touch the orb to see if it would enlighten him, and if that meant he would become a borderline invalid, like the other Supremes, so be it. If it meant his death, so much the better. Whichever the case, whether I allowed him this privilege or not, he was determined that the honor I bestowed upon him would be repaid. The Universe had brought together, which in itself was a gift, and he would not spit at this.
(Gus has seen what he needs to see. How does he break off his gaze? With a smile, a nod, anything?)
«He’s not interfering yet,» she agreed, «but my concern is that at some point this Canon is going to become a loose cannon.»
«Perhaps so, but not yet, and he might still be useful as a plausible excuse for the other actions we might be taking. We might use him to slip a drink to the Zho, if it comes to that.»
«That’s rather devious, sir.» I was pretty sure she meant it as a compliment.
“Captain Masa,” I said, “I would really like to conclude our participation in the ceremony and attend to the issue of the Interdiction from the more controlled confines of the Jaqueline.”
“Of course,” Masa said. “Your Holiness, would you please come with me?”
“Of course,” the Canon replied. “I hope I’m not under arrest.”
“No… no… you’re going to give a speech.”
“I am?”
Masa led him into the corridor I’d told Corporal Hoskins to guard, and Hoskins stood to the side to let them pass. The rest of us followed, and soon we all turned a corner, went through a door, and found ourselves in a backstage area.
“How are we doing?” Captain Masa asked a lieutenant, who turned from what looked like a security monitor. It displayed a matrix of video feeds showing various escalator portals, which were situated at even intervals along the stadium’s circumference. People were still coming in, many of them Navy personnel, but there were also what looked like members of the general public, most of them dressed in black.
“The interdiction slowed down seating,” he said, glancing toward me.
“Captain Plankwell, Lieutenant Agu.”
“Sir,” the Lieutenant said, offering his hand. As we shook and looked into each other’s eyes, I could sense he’d recently talked to Major Fa’Linto, arranging the details and timing of the presentation of the honor guard, and as they’d talked, he’d asked if the Major knew anything about the interdiction.
“Yeah. The locals put a hand on Navy, and they got it slapped. If I’m not mistaken in my assessment of this Captain, they’ll get it slapped worse and maybe even cut off, if they ever try it again.”
Legally, such matters were ultimately adjudicated by the reigning noble, in this case the Countess, but Fa’Linto was apparently not one to be burdened by legal processes, particularly with respect to a world on which he was not actually stationed. Agu, on the other hand, had to watch himself, though he was of the opinion that the locals should not touch Navy unless it involved a bunch of dogfaces burning down a nightclub, so he simply nodded, taking it onboard that I was not the sort of man who gladly suffered fools.
Except for Josefeen.
«I heard that.» She was thinking that while this was all very interesting, it wasn’t getting us any closer to what was going on with Amika. Meanwhile, Guri approached me. He’d just gotten a message from the Countess’s Chief of Staff.
“The Countess hereby directs you to drop the interdiction,” he said. “Your dispute with the HPSS, if you wish to continue it, will be put before the County Magisterial Court for expedited adjudication.” Where I hope you go down in flames.
His words were loud enough to grab the attention of everyone backstage, which meant all eyes were now on me.
“It pleases me to hear and obey the noble Countess. I will have our Evidentiary Board contact the County Magisterial Court for details of the adjudication.”
I then spoke into my wristcom: “Jaqueline, this is the Captain. Cease Interdiction operations immediately. Remain in geosynchronous orbit. Divert ground side forces to my location for additional security. Liaise with Major Fa'Linto for force allocation and coordinate with Captain Masa and Lieutenant Agu for operational direction. Corporal Hoskins is to remain as my personal bodyguard until Major Fa’Linto designates a replacement or my return to the Jaqueline. Interdiction Evidentiary Board is to continue evidence gathering and is to liaise with Guri Maakhiriin as the Countess’s representative and to contact the County Magisterial Court for expedited adjudication.”
I smiled at Guri. “Anything else?”
He wanted to take a swing at me just to wipe the smile off my face, but of course he couldn’t, least of all here, surrounded by witnesses. His struggle not to ball his hand into a fist only made me smile wider. He finally turned, pinched his lips together, and walked away, the very epitome of self-control.
«I have to hand it to you, sir. You really know how to have an effect on people.»
Conrad Rader
I thought about the many people I’d killed over the course of the war, and Josefeen had her fair share of clandestine kills as well. Neither of us were strangers to violence in pursuit of Imperial objectives, and so I considered her suggestion seriously rather than simply waiving it off.
«He knows,» I replied, looking toward the Canon, «but so far he is aiding us or at least not interfering.» The Canon looked toward me, noticing my gaze, but instead of looking away, I locked my gaze onto his eyes and reached into his mind, trying to perceive the shape of his memories and learn what he knew of the orb.
Regimath had cleared many hurdles to get accepted as a Shepherd of the Order of the Silver Chalice. Given the nature of their mission, they were perpetually blessed with an abundance of applicants. Hence, they were able to be selective, so part of the process of becoming ordained involved a series of examinations regarding the history and philosophy behind spirituality through altered states as well as the rampant hedonism that often accompanied it.
Although these Deacons of Drugs, as they were sometimes called, ostensibly had the best job in the universe, they were a stoic lot, generally known for the seriousness of their meditations. So when, on the final day of his examinations, they asked him why he’d first decided to join the order, he was tempted to talk about spiritually and so forth. But then, looking at them all, he realized he couldn’t lie.
“When I began,” he said, “all I wanted was a job where I could be stoned all day, and I wouldn’t get in trouble.”
“Since then, what did you learn?” one asked.
Again, he was tempted to regurgitate the subject matter of his examinations, but the essential truth at the bottom of it all was dishearteningly simple.
“What I learned? What I learned is that I know nothing. Nobody knows anything. We think we know things, and what we think becomes what we believe, but what do we really know? What have we really learned?”
“What do you believe?”
“I believe in the unanswerable, in the Divine Mystery, but like a snail pondering the machinations of human beings… I’m sorry if this is the wrong answer, but it’s all I’ve got. There are things I doubt I’ll ever understand, no matter how many drugs I take.”
One of them pulled out the Eye of God and nodded, and that’s how he’d been accepted, learning later only that it was some sort of lie detector. He’d never touched it. It was to be touched only by a select few, the Supreme Stoners, who, it was said, had delved so deeply into the Divine Mystery that they had essentially blinded themselves to the physical world. Now that he was semi-retired, it was the Canon’s hope that he would one day find his way to this path, although it would mean giving up everything.
In his heart of hearts, he simply wanted to touch the orb to see if it would enlighten him, and if that meant he would become a borderline invalid, like the other Supremes, so be it. If it meant his death, so much the better. Whichever the case, whether I allowed him this privilege or not, he was determined that the honor I bestowed upon him would be repaid. The Universe had brought together, which in itself was a gift, and he would not spit at this.
(Gus has seen what he needs to see. How does he break off his gaze? With a smile, a nod, anything?)
«He’s not interfering yet,» she agreed, «but my concern is that at some point this Canon is going to become a loose cannon.»
«Perhaps so, but not yet, and he might still be useful as a plausible excuse for the other actions we might be taking. We might use him to slip a drink to the Zho, if it comes to that.»
«That’s rather devious, sir.» I was pretty sure she meant it as a compliment.
“Captain Masa,” I said, “I would really like to conclude our participation in the ceremony and attend to the issue of the Interdiction from the more controlled confines of the Jaqueline.”
“Of course,” Masa said. “Your Holiness, would you please come with me?”
“Of course,” the Canon replied. “I hope I’m not under arrest.”
“No… no… you’re going to give a speech.”
“I am?”
Masa led him into the corridor I’d told Corporal Hoskins to guard, and Hoskins stood to the side to let them pass. The rest of us followed, and soon we all turned a corner, went through a door, and found ourselves in a backstage area.
“How are we doing?” Captain Masa asked a lieutenant, who turned from what looked like a security monitor. It displayed a matrix of video feeds showing various escalator portals, which were situated at even intervals along the stadium’s circumference. People were still coming in, many of them Navy personnel, but there were also what looked like members of the general public, most of them dressed in black.
“The interdiction slowed down seating,” he said, glancing toward me.
“Captain Plankwell, Lieutenant Agu.”
“Sir,” the Lieutenant said, offering his hand. As we shook and looked into each other’s eyes, I could sense he’d recently talked to Major Fa’Linto, arranging the details and timing of the presentation of the honor guard, and as they’d talked, he’d asked if the Major knew anything about the interdiction.
“Yeah. The locals put a hand on Navy, and they got it slapped. If I’m not mistaken in my assessment of this Captain, they’ll get it slapped worse and maybe even cut off, if they ever try it again.”
Legally, such matters were ultimately adjudicated by the reigning noble, in this case the Countess, but Fa’Linto was apparently not one to be burdened by legal processes, particularly with respect to a world on which he was not actually stationed. Agu, on the other hand, had to watch himself, though he was of the opinion that the locals should not touch Navy unless it involved a bunch of dogfaces burning down a nightclub, so he simply nodded, taking it onboard that I was not the sort of man who gladly suffered fools.
Except for Josefeen.
«I heard that.» She was thinking that while this was all very interesting, it wasn’t getting us any closer to what was going on with Amika. Meanwhile, Guri approached me. He’d just gotten a message from the Countess’s Chief of Staff.
“The Countess hereby directs you to drop the interdiction,” he said. “Your dispute with the HPSS, if you wish to continue it, will be put before the County Magisterial Court for expedited adjudication.” Where I hope you go down in flames.
His words were loud enough to grab the attention of everyone backstage, which meant all eyes were now on me.
“It pleases me to hear and obey the noble Countess. I will have our Evidentiary Board contact the County Magisterial Court for details of the adjudication.”
I then spoke into my wristcom: “Jaqueline, this is the Captain. Cease Interdiction operations immediately. Remain in geosynchronous orbit. Divert ground side forces to my location for additional security. Liaise with Major Fa'Linto for force allocation and coordinate with Captain Masa and Lieutenant Agu for operational direction. Corporal Hoskins is to remain as my personal bodyguard until Major Fa’Linto designates a replacement or my return to the Jaqueline. Interdiction Evidentiary Board is to continue evidence gathering and is to liaise with Guri Maakhiriin as the Countess’s representative and to contact the County Magisterial Court for expedited adjudication.”
I smiled at Guri. “Anything else?”
He wanted to take a swing at me just to wipe the smile off my face, but of course he couldn’t, least of all here, surrounded by witnesses. His struggle not to ball his hand into a fist only made me smile wider. He finally turned, pinched his lips together, and walked away, the very epitome of self-control.
«I have to hand it to you, sir. You really know how to have an effect on people.»
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Jim Vassilakos
«I have to hand it to you, sir. You really know how to have an effect on people.»
«He brought it on himself, both back then and now.»
I squinted at the time display on my wristcom, wondering how much time I had to rehearse my speech. There was a mini-slate in my valise, but I’d forgotten it in the Green Room, not that there wasn’t time to go back and grab it. I needed to make sure I was still shipshape. Given all the mental stimulation I was receiving, plus my re-acquaintanceship with the psi orb, plus being stunned, plus the psychic bond with Josefeen, I was nearly certain I wouldn’t be able to remember even half of it, and I was generally terrible at offhand speechifying.”
“Lt. Agu, I don’t suppose there’s a holoprompter I could use.”
“Of course, sir.”
Thank the Universe for small favors.
He showed me how to load the speech into the holoprompter from my wristcom, and as I transferred the file, I couldn’t help but wonder how else I might be able to extend my own mental abilities. I tried reaching into my own memories for the last time I’d looked at my speech. Given the psi-enhancer as well as the energies of the psi orb still in my system, could I pull it up simply from memory? I closed my eyes and tried to envision it in front of me, but all I could see was a brief glimpse of me giving the speech, my psychic tendril moving over the audience like an arc of energy, penetrating their minds as the blurry shape of a person sat along the edge of the stage, watching.
«You mentioned seeing a ghost, Josafeen. Did it look like this?»
«Not exactly.»
I shared my memory of my prior visions, trying to hide the Nizlich shower nudes and focusing instead on the ghostly entity I’d assumed to be Jaamzon.
«Oh, my oh my!» Josafeen’s mental snickering was grating.
«Just focus on Jaamzon, please.»
I suddenly realized Josefeen was embarrassed over her report of having seen a ghost. She’d been flying high at the time, which, of course, called the whole episode into question, and as she’d slowly come back down to reality, she’d wondered to herself why she’d even mentioned it. He must think I’m crazy and stupid, she’d thought. Now, however, seeing me embarrassed was an amusing and very welcome relief, although she was also still coming to terms with the apparent scope of my abilities. He’s a poly-psi for sure.
«What’s a poly-psi?»
«Multiple psionic talents, just like Olav hault-Plankwell.» Telepathy and manipulation, clairvoyance, clairaudience, and what’s this? Precog? She wasn’t sure the mental image of me giving a speech was an example of precognition. I was about to give a speech, so it could simply be my imagination preparing for what was obviously about to happen, although that psychic tendril moving over the audience spoke to my major power, which I had accidentally demonstrated on Masa. Had I imagined this as well?
With half an ear on the crowd noises, I looked over Agu’s shoulders at the security monitors. It never hurt to update my situational awareness, and as people continued to enter from the escalators, Agu turned to Masa.
“Sir, do we start on time or wait for the latecomers?”
“We’re the Navy,” Masa said. “We stay on schedule. Your Holiness,” he said, turning toward the Canon. “Are you ready?”
“Ready for what?”
“To give the invocation.”
“Invocation?”
“For the remembrance of a fallen soldier.” What was her name? Oh, yes… Lt. Jaamzon.
The Canon fumbled around in his pockets, finding only a silver flask with the words Liquid Courage neatly engraved on one side. He rubbed his chin, then noticed some writing on the palm of his hand.
“Ah!” He squinted. “I believe I’ve found it.”
“Great,” Masa said, wondering if putting the old codger in front of an assembly of this size constituted elder abuse. Of course, at this point it was too late to change the program, and Forklinbrass had never let the Navy down before.
(Is there anything Gus wants to do before it’s his turn to speak?)
Timothy Collinson
(Timothy, please let us know how you're doing when you get a chance. I do hope the surgery went well.)
Conrad Rader
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Timothy Collinson
So glad to hear from you. I truly hate recovering from surgery and invasive procedures, so I emotionally stand with you (where are our bacta tanks I say!!)
Please accept my best wishes for an uncomplicated recovery.
Conrad Rader
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Jim Vassilakos
The Canon fumbled around in his pockets, finding only a silver flask with the words Liquid Courage neatly engraved. He rubbed his chin and consequently noticed some writing on the palm of his hand.
“Ah!” He squinted. “I’ve found it!”
“Congratulations,” Masa said, wondering if putting the old codger in front of an assembly of this size constituted elder abuse. Or, considering the potential feelings of the audience, a crime against humanity. Of course, at this point it was too late to change the program, and, in any case, Forklinbrass had never let the Navy down before, at least not before such a large group as this.
Such a large group.
«Josafeen, how sure are we that the Zhos would try and interfere with me here?»
She was hoping they would, though she doubted they’d be that stupid. More likely it would be the Ine Givar or one of their ilk, a terrorist group supported by the Zhodani but not actually composed of them. «If they interfere, sir, we’ll catch them.» Indeed, that’s what she was hoping, and I was apparently the bait. «Bait’s a strong word, sir. I prefer lure.»
“Lt. Agu, can you show me the dignitary section?”
“Right here,” he tapped one of the squares on the security monitor, and it expanded to fill the entire screen.
I consciously pulled in my psychic tendrils, remembering how I was able to hear the Major’s thoughts through my wristcom. I didn’t want any possible agents noticing me early, but at the same time…
«Unless they have access to one of these,» she looked down at the diplomatic case she was holding and imagined the playful psi orb currently within it, «they’re not going to get very far.»
I dipped into Josafeen's memories to see what a shielded mind looked like, and what the difference was between natural and artificial shielding, and if there was a way around or through. Put simply, a shielded mind was essentially impenetrable, but it didn’t look any different than any other sort of mind, and this was true whether the shielding was natural or artificial, but if it was zone shielding, it hurt.
«IBIS is here supporting us,» Josefeen's voice echoed in my head. «They’re going to put out a psionic scream.» It was a form of zone shielding, but rather than being little blips of pain and distraction, it was like a firecracker in one’s ear, essentially a form of attack. «At some point during all this, I’m going to tell you to pull your curtain just for a minute. It may be during your speech. Either way, if we see anyone faint, we’ll know they’re psionic and probably in league with the Zhodani.»
But she doubted they’d be that stupid.
“Heavenly Pilot and Lord on High,” the Canon’s voice echoed over the loudspeakers, the crowd suddenly falling still. “Yours are the starry squadrons of space and sky.” His hands were cupped, his elbows bent, like he was holding a little soul. “Lead us who remember our fallen comrade in longing for your welcoming wings.” He stared into this cup formed by his hands. “Guide us in grief as we recall the faith and courage of the fallen.” Soar/Warmth he read off the surface of one palm. “Set us to soar with your warmth at our back.” He’d used to have this memorized. “Let us rise in eternity with you, Pilot Divine.” But his memory had long been slipping away. His whole mind had been.
“We are, each of us, of the Universe,” the Canon said. “Was are stardust.” My wristcom beeped. “Indeed, but for the death of stars, we don’t exist.”
“Plankwell here.”
“Stars have died that we might live.”
“Priority call, Lt. Cmdr. Wang,” Blodder said.
“Stars have died that the Universe might know itself.”
“Sorry to bother you, sir," Lydia Wang said, "but in light of what went down between you and the locals, I’d like to offer you the services of blue and purple squadrons to give the stadium some percussion.”
Percussion? She had it in mind to hit us with a quick series of sonic booms on their flyby, a salute to Lt. Jaamzon but also a way to rattle Heron’s windows and remind them who’s boss. But she didn’t want to do it without my authorization.
Conrad Rader
The Canon fumbled around in his pockets, finding only a silver flask with the words Liquid Courage neatly engraved. He rubbed his chin and consequently noticed some writing on the palm of his hand.
“Ah!” He squinted. “I’ve found it!”
“Congratulations,” Masa said, wondering if putting the old codger in front of an assembly of this size constituted elder abuse. Or, considering the potential feelings of the audience, a crime against humanity. Of course, at this point it was too late to change the program, and, in any case, Forklinbrass had never let the Navy down before, at least not before such a large group as this.
Such a large group.
«Josafeen, how sure are we that the Zhos would try and interfere with me here?»
She was hoping they would, though she doubted they’d be that stupid. More likely it would be the Ine Givar or one of their ilk, a terrorist group supported by the Zhodani but not actually composed of them. «If they interfere, sir, we’ll catch them.» Indeed, that’s what she was hoping, and I was apparently the bait. «Bait’s a strong word, sir. I prefer lure.»
“Lt. Agu, can you show me the dignitary section?”
“Right here,” he tapped one of the squares on the security monitor, and it expanded to fill the entire screen.
I consciously pulled in my psychic tendrils, remembering how I was able to hear the Major’s thoughts through my wristcom. I didn’t want any possible agents noticing me early, but at the same time…
«Unless they have access to one of these,» she looked down at the diplomatic case she was holding and imagined the playful psi orb currently within it, «they’re not going to get very far.»
I dipped into Josafeen's memories to see what a shielded mind looked like, and what the difference was between natural and artificial shielding, and if there was a way around or through. Put simply, a shielded mind was essentially impenetrable, but it didn’t look any different than any other sort of mind, and this was true whether the shielding was natural or artificial, but if it was zone shielding, it hurt.
«IBIS is here supporting us,» Josefeen's voice echoed in my head. «They’re going to put out a psionic scream.» It was a form of zone shielding, but rather than being little blips of pain and distraction, it was like a firecracker in one’s ear, essentially a form of attack. «At some point during all this, I’m going to tell you to pull your curtain just for a minute. It may be during your speech. Either way, if we see anyone faint, we’ll know they’re psionic and probably in league with the Zhodani.»
But she doubted they’d be that stupid.
“Heavenly Pilot and Lord on High,” the Canon’s voice echoed over the loudspeakers, the crowd suddenly falling still. “Yours are the starry squadrons of space and sky.” His hands were cupped, his elbows bent, like he was holding a little soul. “Lead us who remember our fallen comrade in longing for your welcoming wings.” He stared into this cup formed by his hands. “Guide us in grief as we recall the faith and courage of the fallen.” Soar/Warmth he read off the surface of one palm. “Set us to soar with your warmth at our back.” He’d used to have this memorized. “Let us rise in eternity with you, Pilot Divine.” But his memory had long been slipping away. His whole mind had been.
“We are, each of us, of the Universe,” the Canon said. “Was are stardust.” My wristcom beeped. “Indeed, but for the death of stars, we don’t exist.”
“Plankwell here.”
“Stars have died that we might live.”
“Priority call, Lt. Cmdr. Wang,” Blodder said.
“Stars have died that the Universe might know itself.”
“Sorry to bother you, sir," Lydia Wang said, "but in light of what went down between you and the locals, I’d like to offer you the services of blue and purple squadrons to give the stadium some percussion.”
Percussion? She had it in mind to hit us with a quick series of sonic booms on their flyby, a salute to Lt. Jaamzon but also a way to rattle Heron’s windows and remind them who’s boss. But she didn’t want to do it without my authorization.
Jim Vassilakos
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Conrad Rader
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Jim Vassilakos
“Sorry to bother you, sir,” Lydia Wang said, “but in light of what went down between you and the locals, I’d like to offer you the services of blue and purple squadrons to give the stadium some percussion.”
I didn’t need telepathy to realize what she had in mind. Percussion was pilot-speak for a sonic boom. She was offering to hit the stadium, and Heron more generally, with a quick series of them on their flyby, a salute to Lt. Jaamzon but also a way to rattle Heron’s windows and remind them who’s boss. But like any career-minded officer, she didn’t want to do it without my authorization.
As the Canon went on about stars, death, and the Universe, I tilted my head toward Josefeen.
«I’m going to have the wing do a percussive flyby. Tell IBIS to coordinate the scream with the flyby.»
Tell IBIS? They didn’t like being subordinate to the Navy, but this was a Navy ceremony, so they’d do as we requested so long as it didn’t conflict with their own goals. But they’d want to know why. «What is it you have in mind, sir?»
«Misdirection.» “Wing Leader,” I said, “you are go for flyby on Captain Masa’s mark. Blodder, route the lead fighter’s range to target data to my wristcom.”
“Aye aye, sir,” both women responded simultaneously.
«Misdirection?» Josefeen frowned.
«Coordinating the scream with the sonic booms will provide a rational story, albeit an erroneous one, in case anyone faints. IBIS can go in with a team of medics and carry them out, claiming they had a heart attack. The media may blame the Navy, but the public will be none the wiser.»
Josefeen nodded, somewhat impressed. «Aye aye, sir.» She then wandered off to make the necessary arrangements.
Heart attacks due to sonic booms were exceedingly rare, but they could happen. I had once caught a week of administrative punishment for a percussive flyby during a unit review, but it was for creative misinterpretation of orders rather than the actual percussion. In this situation, the argument would be that I wasn’t really indulging in pettiness. I was supporting an officer with initiative. Vasilyev might slap my wrist when I got back, but given that Intel would surely back me up, informing him it was all part of a larger mission, I’d have all the cover I could ever need to prevent it from going any further.
“Captain Masa, am I up after Regimath?”
“Not exactly. I was planning first the invocation, then the Imperial Anthem, then you, then the presentation of the Honor Guard, then our robot friend over here, but if you’d like to change the order, just say so.”
Although Masa would present the AI as speaking at the behest of the Countess, he didn’t know what Olav would say, and so he was somewhat worried about slotting it in as the capstone. That had been my suggestion, and since it was my pilot who’d died, he was deferring to me.
“When’s the flyby supposed to happen?” I asked him.
“During the honor guard portion.”
That made sense. Due to the uncertainties with respect to their ETA, the flyby needed a fairly large window, although now that I had their distance fed into my wristcom, I could possibly use them to pepper my speech, though I’d have to time it perfectly.
(Let me know if there's anything you want to change. Looking forward to seeing what Gus decides.)
Conrad Rader
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Jim Vassilakos
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1O_o-2rfIvfOxIxQzrqCQwMKax0piUITx/edit?usp=sharing&ouid=113687616933633107445&rtpof=true&sd=true
PLEASE REMEMBER to change "EDITING" to "SUGGESTING" (near the upper right-hand corner) before doing any edits.
Jim Vassilakos
Timothy Collinson
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