A Knight of Ghosts and Shadows df-7 Read online

  Lagard gave him a close look. Flandry could guess the resident’s thought: Was this drawling clothes horse really an Intelligence officer at work, or a pet relative put through a few motions to justify making an admiral of him? “I will cooperate as far as possible, Captain.”

  “Thanks. Knew y’ would. See here, d’you mind if I bore you for a few ticks? Mean to say, I’d like to diagram the situation as I see it. You correct me where I’m wrong, fill in any gaps, that kind of thing, eh? You know how hard it is to get any proper overview of matters. And then, distances between stars, news stale before it arrives, n’est-ce pas?”

  “Proceed,” Lagard said resignedly.

  Flandry discarded his cigarette, crossed legs and bridged fingers. No grav generator softened the pull of Diomedes. He let his added weight flow into the chair’s crannies of softness, as if already wearied. (In actuality he did his calisthenics under two gees or more, because thus he shortened the dreary daily time he needed for keeping fit.) “Troublemakers afoot,” he said. “Distinct possibility of hostiles taking advantage of the disorganization left by the recent unpleasantness—whether those hostiles be Merseian, Ythrian, barbarian, Imperials who want to break away or even overthrow his Majesty—right? You got hints, various of those troublemakers were active here, fanning flames of discontent and all that sort of nonsense. How’d they get past your security?”

  “Not my security, Captain,” Lagard corrected. “I’ve barely had this post five years. I found the sentinel system in wretched condition—expectable, after the Empire’s woes—and did my best to effect repairs. I also found our civil strife was doing much to heighten resentment, particularly in the Great Flock of Lannach. It disrupted offplanet commerce, you see. The migrant societies have become more dependent on that than the sedentary ones like Drak’ho which have industry to produce most of what they consume. But please realize, a new man on a strange world needs time to learn its ins and outs, and develop workable programs.”

  “Oh, quite.” Flandry nodded. “At first you’d see no reason to screen visitors from space. Rather, you’d welcome ’em. They might help restore trade, what? Very natural. No discredit to you. At last, however, clues started trickling in. Not every transient was spending his stay in the outback so benignly. Right?

  “You asked my Corps to investigate. That likewise takes time. We too can’t come cold onto a planet and hope for instant results, y’ know. Ah, according to my briefing, it was sector HQ you approached. Terra just got your regular reports.”

  “Of course,” Lagard said. “Going through there would have meant a delay of months.”

  “Right, right. No criticism intended, sir,” Flandry assured him. “Still, we do like to keep tabs at Home. That’s what I’m here for, to find out what was done, in more detail than the official report”—which was almighty sketchy—“could render. Or, you could say, my superiors want a feel of how the operation went.”

  Lagard gave the least shrug.

  “Well, then,” Flandry proceeded. “The report does say a Commander Bruno Maspes brought an Intelligence team, set up shop in Thursday Landing, and got busy interrogating, collating data, sending people out into the field—the usual intensive job. They worked how long?”

  “About six months.”

  “Did you see much of them?”

  “No. They were always occupied, often all away from here at once, sometimes away from the whole system. Personnel of theirs came and went. Even those who were my guests—” Lagard stopped. “You’ll forgive me, Captain, but I’m under security myself. My entire household is. We’ve been forbidden to reveal certain items. This clearance of yours does not give you power to override that.”

  Ah-ha. It tingled in Flandry’s veins. His muscles stayed relaxed. “Yes, yes. Perfectly proper. You and yours were bound to spot details—f’r instance, a xenosophont with odd talents—” Look at his face! Again, ah-ha.—“which ought not be babbled about. Never fret, I shan’t pry.

  “In essence, the team discovered it wasn’t humans of Ythrian allegiance who were inciting to rebellion and giving technical advice about same. It was humans from Dennitza.”

  “So I was told,” Lagard said.

  “Ah … during this period, didn’t you entertain a Dennitzan scientist?”

  “Yes. She and her companion soon left for the Sea of Achan, against my warnings. Later I was informed that they turned out to be subversives themselves.” Lagard sighed. “Pity. She was a delightful person, in her intense fashion.”

  “Any idea what became of her?”

  “She was captured. I assume she’s still detained.”

  “Here?”

  “Seems unlikely. Maspes and his team left weeks ago. Why leave her behind?”

  What would I have done if they were around yet? Flandry wondered fleetingly. Played that hand in style, I trust. “They might have decided that was the easiest way to keep the affair under wraps for a bit,” he suggested.

  “The Intelligence personnel now on Diomedes are simply those few who’ve been stationed among us for years. I think I’d know if they were hiding anything from me. You’re free to talk to them, Captain, but better not expect much.”

  “Hm.” Flandry stroked his mustache. “I s’pose, then, Maspes felt he’d cleaned out the traitors?”

  “He said he had a new, more urgent task elsewhere. Doubtless a majority of agents escaped his net, and native sympathizers may well keep any humans among them fed. But, he claimed, if we monitor space traffic carefully, they shouldn’t rouse more unrest than we can handle. I hope he was right.”

  “You’re trying to defuse local conflicts, eh?”

  “What else?” Lagard sounded impatient. “My staff and I, in consultation with loyal Diomedeans, are hard at work. A fair shake for the migrants is not impossible to achieve, if the damned extremists will let us alone. I’m afraid I’ll be a poor host, Captain. Day after tomorrow—Terran, that is—I’m off for Lannach, to lay certain proposals before the Commander of the Great Flock and his councillors. They feel a telescreen is too impersonal.”

  Flandry smiled. “Don’t apologize, sir. I’ll be quite happy. And, I suspect, only on this planet a few days anyhow, before bouncing on to the next You and Maspes seem offhand to’ve put on a jolly good show.”

  Gratified, visions of bonuses presumably dancing through his head, the resident beamed at him. “Thank you. I’ll introduce you around tomorrow, and you can question or look through the files as you wish, within the limits of security I mentioned. But first I’m sure you’d like to rest. A servant will show you to your room. We’ll have aperitifs in half an hour. My wife is eager to meet you.”

  VIII

  At dinner Flandry laid on the wit and sophistication he had preprogrammed, until over the liqueurs Susette Kalehua Lagard sighed, “Oh, my, Captain Whaling, how marvelous you’re here! Nobody like you has visited us for ages—they’ve all been provincials, or if not, they’ve been so ghastly serious, no sensitivity in them either, except a single one and he wasn’t human—Oh!” Her husband had frowned and nudged her. She raised fingers to lips. “No, that was naughty of me. Please forget I said it.”

  Flandry bowed in his chair. “Impractical, I fear, Donna. How could I forget anything spoken by you? But I’ll set the words aside in my mind and enjoy remembering the music.” Meanwhile alertness went electric through him. This warm, well-furnished, softly lighted room, where a recorded violin sang and from which a butler had just removed the dishes of an admirable rubyfruit souffle, was a very frail bubble to huddle in. He rolled curacao across his tongue and reached for a cigarette.

  She fluttered her lashes. “You’re a darling.” She had had a good bit to drink. “Isn’t he, Martin? Must you really leave us in less than a week?”

  Flandry shrugged. “Looks as if Distinguished Citizen Lagard hasn’t left me much excuse to linger, alas.”

  “Maybe we can find something. I mean, you can exercise judgment in your mission, can’t you? They wouldn’t s
end a man like you out and keep a leash on him.”

  “We’ll see, Donna.” He gave a look of precisely gauged meaningfulness. She returned it in kind. The wine had not affected her control in that respect.

  His inner excitement became half sardonicism, half a moderately interested anticipation. She was attractive in a buxom fashion, to which her low-cut shimmerlyn gown lent an emphasis that would have raised brows at today’s Imperial court—the court she had never seen. Jewels glinted in black hair piled about a round brown countenance. Vivacity had increased in her throughout the meal, till her conversation sounded less platitudinous than it was.

  Flandry knew her as he knew her husband, from uncounted encounters: the spouse of an official posted to a distant world of nonhumans. Occasionally such a pair made a team. But oftener the member who did not have the assignment was left to the dismal mercies of a tiny Imperial community, the same homes, bodies, words, games, petty intrigues and catfights for year after year. He or she might develop an interest in the natives, get into adventures and fascinations, even contribute a xenological study or a literary translation. Lady Susette lacked the gift for that. Since she had had no children when she arrived, there would be none for the rest of Lagard’s ten-year hitch. The immunizations which let her walk freely outdoors on Diomedes were too deep-going for her organism to accept an embryo, and it would be too dangerous to have them reversed before she departed. What then was Susette Kalehua Lagard, daughter of prosperous and socially prominent Terrans, to do while she waited?

  She could terminate the marriage. But a man who had gotten resident’s rank was a fine catch. He could expect a subsequent commissionership on a prime human-colonized planet like Hermes, where plenty of glamour was available; in due course, he should become a functionary of some small importance on Terra itself, and perhaps receive a minor patent of nobility. She must feel this was worth her patience. Her eyes told Flandry she did have a hobby.

  “Well, if our time’s to be short, let’s make it sweet,” she said. “May I—we call you Ahab? We’re Susette and Martin.”

  “I’m honored.” Flandry raised his glass in salute. “And refreshed. Folk on Terra have gotten stiffish these past few years, don’t y’ know. Example set by his Majesty and the inner circle.”

  “Indeed?” Lagard asked. “Nuances don’t reach us here. I’d have thought—with due reverence—the present Emperor would be quite informal.”

  “Not in public,” Flandry said. “Career Navy man of Germanian background, after all. I see us generally heading into a puritanical period.” Which, if Desal is right, is not the end of decadence, but rather its next stage. “Luckily, we’ve plenty of nooks and crannies for carrying on in the grand old tradition. In fact, disapproval lends spice, what? I remember a while ago—”

  His risqué reminiscence had happened to somebody else and the event had lacked several flourishes he supplied. He never let such nigglements hinder a story. It fetched a sour smile from Lagard but laughter and a blush down to the decolletage from Susette.

  The staff, assistants, clerks, technical chiefs, Navy and marine personnel, were harried but cooperative, except when Flandry heard: “Sorry, sir. I’m not allowed to discuss that. If you want information, please apply at Sector HQ. I’m sure they’ll oblige you there.”

  Yes, they’ll oblige me with the same skeleton account that Terra got. I could make a pest of myself, but I doubt if the secret files have ever contained any mention of what Tm really after. I could check on the whereabouts of Commander Maspes Co., and make a long trip to find them—no, him, for probably the team’s dispersed … ah, more probably yet, the files will show orders cut for them similar to those in Captain Whaling’s papers, and the men have vanished … maybe to bob up again eventually, maybe never, depending on circumstances.

  More deceptions, more phantoms.

  He sauntered into the civilian part of town and was quickly on genial terms with factors and employees. Most of them found their work stimulating—they liked the Diomedeans—but were starved for new human contact. And none were under security. The trouble was, there had been no need for it. They knew a special Intelligence force came to search out the roots of the unrest which plagued them in then business. They totally approved, and did not resent not being invited to meet the investigators save for interviews about what they themselves might know. None had seen the entire team together; when not in the field, it kept apart, officers in the Residency, enlisted men in a separate barrack. Yes, rumor said it included a xeno or two. What of that?

  Otherwise the community had only heard Lagard’s brief announcement after the group was gone. ” … I am not at liberty to say more than that human traitors have been trying to foment a rebellion among the Lannachska. Fortunately, the vast majority of the Great Flock stayed loyal and sensible. And now the key agents have been killed or captured. A few may still be at large, and information you may come upon concerning these should be reported immediately. But I don’t expect they can do serious harm any longer, and I intend to proceed, with your cooperation, to remove the causes of discontent … ”

  The next Diomedean day, Flandry donned a heated coverall and a dome helmet with an air recycler, passed through pressure change in a lock, and circulated among natives in their part of town. Most knew Anglic and were willing to talk; but none had further news. He wasn’t surprised.

  Finding a public phone booth, he took the opportunity to call Chives when nobody who chanced to observe him was likely to wonder what a solitary operative was doing there. He used a standard channel but a language he was sure had never been heard on this world. The nearest comsat bucked his words across the ocean to Lannach where, he having paid for the service, they were broadcast rather than beamed. The relay unit he had left under the cliff made contact with the Shalmuan’s portable.

  “Yes, sir, at present the young lady is eating rations taken from her car before she abandoned it. They should last her as far as the sea, for she is setting a hard pace despite the overgrowth and rugged topography. I must confess I have difficulty following, since I consider it inadvisable to go aloft on my gravbelt. I feel a certain concern for her safety. A fall down a declivity or a sudden tempest could have adverse effects, and she does not let caution delay her.”

  “I think she can manage,” Flandry said. “In any event, you can rescue her. What worries me is what may happen after she gets where she’s going. Another twenty-four hours, did you estimate? I’d better try to act fast myself, here.”

  Susette didn’t wish to lose time either. Three hours after she and Flandry had seen Lagard off, she was snuggled against him whispering how wonderful he had been.

  “You’re no slouch on the couch yourself, mlove,” he said, quite honestly. “More, I hope?”

  “Yes. As soon and often as you want. And do please want.”

  “Well, how about a breather first, and getting acquainted? A girl who keeps a bedside beer cooler is a girl whose sound mind I want to know as well as her delectable body.” Warm and wudgy, she caressed him while he leaned over to get bottles for them, and stayed in the circle of his free arm when they leaned back against the pillows.

  Too bad this can’t be a simple romp for me, he thought. It deserves that. And by the way, so do 1. Kossara was making chastity come hard.

  He savored the chill brisk flavor while his glance roved about. The resident’s lady had a private suite where, she hinted, the resident was an infrequent caller. This room of it was plushly carpeted, draped, furnished, in rose and white. An incense stick joined its fragrance to her own. A dressing table stood crowded with perfumes and cosmetics. Her garments sheened above his, hastily tossed over a chair. In that richness, her souvenirs of Home—pictures, bric-a-brac, a stuffed toy such as she would have given to a child—seemed as oddly pathetic as the view in the window was grim. Hail dashed against vitryl, thicker and harder than ever fell on Terra, picked out athwart blue-black lightning-jumping violence by an ember sunbeam which stabbed through a rent
in the clouds. Past every insulation and heaviness came a ghost of the wind’s clamor.

  Kossara … Yes, Chives is right to fret about her while she struggles through yonder wildwood.

  Susette stroked his cheek. “Why do you look sad all of a sudden?” she asked.

  “Eh?” He started. “How ridiculous. ‘Pensive’ is the word, my imp. Well, perhaps a drop of melancholy, recalling how I’ll have to leave you and doubtless never see you again.”

  She nodded. “Me too. Though are you sure we won’t—we can’t?”

  If I keep any control over events, yes, absolutely! Not that you aren’t likable; but frankly, in public you’re a bore. And what if Kossara found out?

  Why should I care?

  Well, she might accept my sporting as such. I get the impression hers is a double-standard society. But I don’t believe she’d forgive my cuckolding a man whose salt I’ve eaten. To plead I was far from unique would get me nowhere. To plead military necessity wouldn’t help either; I think she could see (those wave-colored eyes) that I’d have performed the same service free and enjoyed every microsecond.

  Hm. The problem is not how to keep a peccadillo decently veiled in hypocrisy. The problem is what to do about the fact that I care whether or not Kossara Vymezal despises me.

  “Can’t we?” Susette persisted. “The Empire’s big, but people get around in it.”

  Flandry pulled his attention back to the task on hand. He hugged her, smiled into her troubled gaze, and said, “Your idea flatters me beyond reason. I’d s’posed I was a mere escapade.”

  She flushed. “I supposed the same. But—well—” Defiantly: “I have others. I guess I always will, till I’m too old. Martin must suspect, and not care an awful lot. He’s nice to me in a kind of absent-minded way, but he’s overworked, and not young, and—you know what I mean. Diego, Diego Rostovsky, he’s been the best. Except I know him inside out by now, what there is to know. You come in like a fresh breeze—straight from Home!—and you can talk about things, and make me laugh and feel good, and—” She leaned hard on him. Her own spare hand wandered. “I’d never have thought … you knew right away what I’d like most. Are you a telepath?”