The Devil and Deep Space (7 page)

“Thank you, sir.” Smish sounded a little confused overall. She wasn’t Dolgorukij. She wouldn’t know. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Koscuisko nodded. Then Koscuisko turned his attention to Lek himself, looking directly at him while speaking in general to the team. “There will be much that is strange. I can only guess, remembering how it was when first I left Azanry for the school at Mayon. I could not warn you about everything if I talked for three days, and I would rather have something to eat.”

Home food, Lek thought suddenly, and smelled remembered fragrances in his imagination. Thin little cakes made with soured grain mash and cream. Thick soups of stewed root vegetables, and when times were good meat to go with cabbage and water–grass.

“Therefore I will only say this, though I repeat myself. I request you all pay particular attention to what Lek does and says while we are home. In this way you can be sure of keeping your dignity in the land of the outlander.”

It was a sensible suggestion, yes. But it was much more than that, though none of the other people here might realize it. Koscuisko told them all to point on him, Lek Kerenko, Sarvaw. That would be a sign to the Dolgorukij into whose territory Koscuisko was carrying them all, and Lek was grateful to Koscuisko for having thought of such a natural way to give him face in an unfriendly environment.

“And now I mean to go and lie down. Perhaps Lek will consent to discuss with ship’s computers on your behalf and find out where the liquor has been stored. There are three days from here to Azanry, and we are on holiday.”

Lek didn’t want liquor. He wanted root stew and cabbage–stuffed sausages; but this was an executive courier, and there was no hope of finding such homely food as that. He’d just have to make do with pearl–gray roe and cured fish wrapped in flour skins, he supposed. It was a hard task.

But someone had to do it.

Chapter Three

Reasonable People

Admiral Brecinn stepped down into the observer’s pit at her headquarters at Pesadie Training Command with some inventory reports in hand. It had been a day since the anomalous incident had occurred; it was time to put the
Ragnarok
on notice. The inventories had put her on notice as well. She was going to need a strong bargaining position to hold her own against the reasonable people, when they demanded their merchandise. She didn’t know where she was going to find the leverage.

“Contact the
Ragnarok
, if you please,” she said, nodding to the technician at the comm station. The full complement of observers were here, just for the sake of the formalities. The inventory had had to be done twice, which had complicated things. Once for the official record, and once for the other record, the real record, the one that showed her where she stood in the profit and loss registers in her dealings with undocumented trade.

All right, illegal trade, but it was only illegal because people elected a too–narrow interpretation of the laws. Reasonable people knew how to conduct business without undue administrative procedure getting in the way.

The signal cleared from the
Ragnarok
, its position in the training area highlighted by a pinpoint halo on the star map even as the interface screen opened across much of the forward display area. Projected in this way Jennet ap Rhiannon was about twice life–size, seated at the desk in the Captain’s office, her First Officer standing behind her, looking bored.

Admiral Brecinn didn’t know much about the Ragnarok’s junior lieutenant and she didn’t really care. Reasonable people had hinted that ap Rhiannon was not the sort of intelligent and responsive officer Fleet needed, which was a shame. Fleet needed good officers, especially in the lower ranks.

As the links all fell into place along authenticated lines of communication, ap Rhiannon stood up. Not a moment too soon, Brecinn thought, with contemptuous amusement. Junior officers rose to their feet in the presence of superior officers. Ap Rhiannon was being close to insubordinate.

“Pesadie Training Command presents its heartfelt sympathies to the
Ragnarok
on the loss of its Captain.” Brecinn opened the engagement on the offensive, without waiting for whatever ap Rhiannon might have wanted to say by way of ingratiating herself. From what Brecinn had seen and heard of ap Rhiannon, she didn’t have the sense to know when she ought to be doing her best to curry favor . . . like now, for example. “And expresses its concerns over the cause of this distressing incident.”

Brecinn chose the word carefully, and employed it for full effect. Incident, not accident. Whether or not ap Rhiannon had the political sense of the average bulkhead was none of Brecinn’s concern. The word would put ap Rhiannon’s people on notice that Pesadie thought there was quite possibly sabotage afoot: ap Rhiannon’s people, and Brecinn’s observers, as well.

“Thank you, Admiral Brecinn.” On–screen, ap Rhiannon had seated herself once more. She was clearly intent on pushing the rank privileges associated with her status as acting Captain of the
Ragnarok
to their fullest. “We are also deeply distressed by the unfortunate accident that has deprived Fleet of not only one Captain, but several other valuable resources as well.”

Ap Rhiannon’s choice of words in turn was lost on no one in the room. Brecinn had said incident. Ap Rhiannon said accident. It was just short of calling the Admiral a fool in public.

Ap Rhiannon only dug herself deeper into her own trap as she continued. “In my capacity as the senior Command Branch officer on board of the Jurisdiction Fleet Ship
Ragnarok
I respectfully request the immediate assignment of a duly detailed Fleet Incident Investigation team to determine the exact cause of the accident.”

A what?

Brecinn was all too fully aware of the attention of the observers in the room fixed on her, wondering how she would react to this. She couldn’t allow it.

“You are doubtless aware that there are no such teams assigned to this Command,” Brecinn noted, coldly. This was an intolerable imposition on ap Rhiannon’s part. “In the absence of a duly selected First Judge Presiding, no such teams can even be chartered.”

Ap Rhiannon was counting on just that, though, Brecinn realized suddenly. Ap Rhiannon was technically well within her rights as acting Captain to demand a Fleet Incident Investigation team. In fact, now that she had made her claim in official transmission — and in front of all of these witnesses — Brecinn was left with no choice but to accede.

“Understood, Admiral Brecinn.” Ap Rhiannon was clearly trying hard to keep the note of gloating out of her voice. Brecinn was sure of it. The ghost of a jeer crept into her language, nonetheless. “With all due respect, I cannot insult the memory of my former commanding officer by accepting anything less than the most careful investigation of the accident that took his life.”

It would take weeks, at minimum, to locate a Fleet Incident Investigation team that could be assigned. Then it would take weeks more to wait for the new First Judge to be seated so that an administrative investigation order could be issued. Fleet Incident Investigation teams were not ordinary, everyday affairs. The Bench liked to keep an eye on them.

“As you wish, ap Rhiannon. I will forward your stipulation to Chilleau Judiciary on priority transmit.” She’d confused the people who were watching her. She could tell. Even that Clerk of Court from Chilleau Judiciary was staring at her, while the expressions on the faces of her staff smoothed quickly from surprise into undisguised admiration. They’d guessed her strategy. She’d just reminded them all of why she was Admiral.

“In the interim period, however, evidence must be carefully placed on record by a neutral observation party. I will send a preliminary assessment team as soon as possible to begin this important preparatory work.”

She didn’t have a strategy, not yet, but nobody else needed to know that. She’d think of something. Ap Rhiannon couldn’t bar a properly constituted preliminary assessment team, not with her request for a Fleet Incident Investigation team going forward.

Ap Rhiannon apparently realized that she was outmaneuvered; she was churlish about it. That was all right with Admiral Brecinn. The Lieutenant shouldn’t have tried to get clever with her. “As you say, Admiral Brecinn. We will await your preliminary assessment team. Will that be all, Admiral?”

Ap Rhiannon underestimated her opponent if she thought she could seal off her boundaries so easily. “We’ll let you know when the team is on its way. Pesadie away, here.” She terminated the communication link with a forceful nod of her head to the technician on the board, and smiled.
Take that, you pathetic amateur
.

It was half for show and half pure honest spite, and Brecinn could see by the expressions exchanged among the reasonable people on her staff that it served the purpose. They believed she had a master plan. So she would, in time.

Brecinn rose to her feet to signal that the morning’s work was winding down. “Thank you, gentles; and good–greeting to you all.”

She had one day before she’d have to talk to anyone about it. There was no time like the present to be started. Forcing a confident stride, carefully keeping a serene smile on her face, Brecinn fled with all deliberate speed to go to ground in her office, and make plans.

###

Mergau Noycannir had not been idle since the snoop she’d planted on the Admiral yesterday had shown her a possible line of approach.

Despised and discarded at Chilleau Judiciary she might be, but she had contacts that had yet to fail her, developed over the years with favors and information and the general exchange of mutually profitable courtesies that characterized the conduct of business from one end of Jurisdiction to the other. She hadn’t needed more than a few quiet inquiries to get her all the information she could wish with which to build a strategy.

Following Admiral Brecinn out of the observation hall Mergau kept close enough behind her to make it clear to the others that she meant to talk to their superior officer, in order to forestall any such actions on their own part. She waited to speak until the Admiral had passed through her administrative complex and stood in front of her office door, however, because what she had to say was to be between the two of them alone. “Excuse me, Admiral. I have a concern. May I have a moment?”

Brecinn was a tall woman. Mergau could not see her face, standing as the Admiral was with her back to the administrative area, caught in mid–movement as she set her palm to the secure on her private office. Mergau could see the fabric shift across the back of the Admiral’s shoulders, though, and it was as good as a scan–reading.

“Dame Noycannir. You surprised me.” Yes. Mergau already knew that. She waited. “By all means, then. Come in. What can I do for you?” Her presence was not welcome, Mergau could tell that easily enough. But unless she missed her guess, she was about to make herself Admiral Brecinn’s very close friend and intimate acquaintance.

The door opened. Brecinn stepped through into her private office. Mergau followed. The lights came up as the Admiral crossed the room. Mergau looked around her appreciatively. Large office. Very nicely done, lots of plants — conspicuous consumption of water; at a headquarters located on an asteroid platform that was as good a rank–signal as anything.

The Admiral had a taste for architectural forms in furniture, it seemed, very expensive stuff. The two Perand chairs in front of the desk alone were worth three or four times Mergau’s annual salary on the casual market. “Please,” Brecinn urged. “Sit down.” She was playing it well; Mergau could appreciate that. There was little indication in her tone of voice of the impatience that she had to be feeling.

Mergau settled herself in one of those very severe, very expensive Perands. “Now that I have your attention I’m not quite sure where to start, Admiral. Can I be sure that our conversation can be privileged?”

Meaning,
Are your privacies in place
? And, by extension,
I want to talk business, and it’s not precisely open–air business
. Admiral Brecinn toggled the remote, looking past Mergau as her door sealed itself shut.

“Privacy is in effect, Dame, at your request. What is this all about?”

Mergau frowned, to present the appearance of concentrating. “Well. Yesterday’s unplanned and unfortunate event. Very awkward. One anticipates a good deal of interest from Fleet — too much interest for any reasonable person to be asked to tolerate, if you ask me.”

She used the phrase with deliberate intent. She herself had always been careful to minimize her exposure to reasonable people as a class: because benefit bred obligation. But everybody knew about the existence of reasonable people. And Clerks of Court had more opportunity than most to place themselves in a position to be of use, and to gain insight.

Admiral Brecinn did not react to the phrase in itself. She was clearly testing Mergau out, unsure of Mergau’s position. “Well, it is very unfortunate, Dame. Yes. And it will be an annoyance to have a stream of investigators through here. But what can we do? Cowil Brem is dead.”

Very deliberately, Mergau shrugged. “Accidents happen. Why should they be allowed to upset the normal course of operations? Fleet has enough upset on its hands just now. The Bench is not well served by diverting police resources to investigate miscellaneous training accidents when they’re needed to keep the peace during the selection process.”

Civil unrest was a fact of life. It was only to be expected that it would increase during the period of uncertainty between the death of one First Judge and the selection of the next.

“You state the obvious, Dame, but what can be done? And you’ll excuse me, but I have a lot of work to do. So if . . . “

Mergau held up her hand to stop the Admiral, interrupting politely but firmly. “That is my issue exactly, Admiral Brecinn. What is to be done? I think I may be able to offer some assistance.”

On the face of it, it was an impertinent thing to say. Mergau put full weight on the words, enough to give the Admiral pause, and was rewarded with Brecinn’s raised eyebrow, encouragement to continue.

Mergau leaned forward. It put her at an odd angle because of the peculiar slope characteristic of the chair; hominids of Perand’s class were by and large longer in the torso than the Jurisdiction standard.

“Admiral Brecinn. Let me be utterly blunt with you. There’s been an accident. There will be an investigation. It will cost money, and investigations almost always get out of control. Unimportant and unrelated issues are turned up by auditors anxious to justify the expense of their investigation. It’s all so unnecessary.”

She had Brecinn’s full attention now. The Admiral wasn’t giving her many cues; Brecinn was corrupt, but not stupid. Mergau liked dealing with corrupt people. Stupid people were just boring; and frequently endangered one’s own goals.

“All we need is a suitably logged confession set, Admiral, and we can close this unfortunate incident with minimal expense and exposure. I can help. If you are interested.”

Picking up a decorative stone from her desk Brecinn turned the smoothly polished thing over and over in her fingers; thoughtfully. “It’s my fiduciary duty to the Bench to weigh the costs and benefits of all planned approaches, Dame.” Brecinn still revealed nothing — unless her use of the loaded word
fiduciary
was intended to hint at the underlying rewards that Mergau might expect to share if she came up with a good approach. “But surely it’s premature to speculate about mutiny. Assassination.”

Mergau shook her head. “Not at all, Admiral. I am completely confident of my information. The Second Judge does not like to publish the fact, but I hold the Writ to Inquire for Chilleau Judiciary, Admiral Brecinn. And I say that the crew of that Wolnadi will confess their Free Government connections and treasonable intent for the Record in due form, before they die. All you need to do is provide me with the crew.”

It wasn’t exactly true to say that she held the Writ to Inquire for Chilleau Judiciary. Her Writ had never been revoked or rescinded, to spare the First Secretary the embarrassment of putting the failure of his experiment on record. But he hadn’t used her Writ for years, not since she’d failed to get results from those Langsarik prisoners that the Bench specialist had brought to Chilleau Judiciary. Not since the Domitt Prison. More than four years.