“Is Terebeg System really the Compact’s headquarters? Because if it’s true that their calendar only permits the voluntary execution of exotic effects, no one but the suicidal or crazy would permit a threshold winnower to operate on them.”
“Go on,” Pink said.
“The winnower is associated with me as plainly as the Deuce of Gears. The anniversary of Hellspin must exert a powerful fascination over people or Kujen wouldn’t rely on it as the focus of a calendrical attack. But that wouldn’t persuade people to die for a historical reenactment.”
The servitors’ lights dimmed.
“We’re not attacking the Compact, are we? We’re attacking the Protectorate. Our own people. I mean, the Kel’s own people anyway, if not yours specifically.”
Orange spoke for the first time. “You’re the only one who didn’t know it.”
Confirmation at last. “Then the Kel—”
Yes, the Revenant said. The Kel have known all along. The servitors tell me what they whisper to each other. Why do you think they hate you so much?
Well, Jedao supposed he couldn’t blame them. Disheartening as it was for him, it must be worse to be a Kel and have no control over the situation. “I will not permit it,” he said.
You seem to be under that impression, yes, the Revenant said. How? You are the most powerless person in the swarm.
Jedao stared down at his hands. Light from the video washed over it in reddish hues. “As a last resort,” he said bleakly, “I can find a way to kill myself. And hope I can stay dead long enough to jinx the whole thing sky-high. That’ll prevent Hellspin Mark Two, although it won’t get rid of Kujen. Unless you know of a way.”
“Unfortunately not,” Pink said. “Some exotic effects can destroy him, but he does not permit their use anywhere in his presence.”
“You know which effects?”
“No. He guards that information well.”
Jedao saw it now; saw how he could nail Kujen. Except he was still missing a piece. He needed a formation to kill Kujen, if one existed.
Jedao, the Revenant said, you don’t need to torment yourself over this. You can’t lure him into the infantry drill hall. He is not easily infatuated, unlike certain Shuos generals.
He colored. “You don’t see it either,” he said in a rush. “That means he might not. What I need is time to work out the mathematics.” He was by no means sure he had the technical knowledge necessary, but it would have been contemptible not to try. “No, of course I can’t pin him in an infantry training hall. But he’s still aboard this moth. The fact that he plans on immolating the rest of the swarm guarantees it. And if we’re going to be in Protectorate territory, then he’s trapped. If we can figure out how to generate the exotic effects we need, I know how to spike out his heart.
“I need to know how to arrange the formation components to target an effect inward into the swarm. I’ve been studying the mathematics in hopes of unriddling it. I need your help for that part.”
Sudden silence.
“General,” Green said. It flashed almost directly into Jedao’s eyes to get his attention. “We’ll look into it. If you help us with this operation, we will ally with you.”
“What is your stake, Revenant?” Jedao asked, both in moth-speech and out loud.
It was Green who answered, its lights growing softly blue-tinged with melancholy. “The Revenant wishes to fly unharnessed, even if it’s unlikely that any free moths remain. Kujen and the early heptarchate’s masters were very thorough.”
“You mean that—” Free moths. Jedao had never imagined moths elsewhere in the universe, living their own lives.
The chants are fragmented, the Revenant said matter-of-factly. I am less interested in historical accuracy. If they lead me to space empty of humans, that will be good enough.
“You may need a crew,” Jedao said. “For maintenance.” And to disable the harness, but that went without saying.
“Yes,” Orange said, amber-bright with good humor. It added, “You could come with us.”
Jedao choked with the sudden desire to do exactly that. He could carry out his mission to free the Kel, then carve out some unscarred swath of sky for himself and the Revenant and this group of servitors. He could shed his past and begin anew.
Yet no one would then remain to deliver the Kel to some better authority. He was under no illusion that the Revenant or the servitors cared about their welfare. It wasn’t their job to.
On the other hand, how much would they trust him if he declined? “Yes,” he said. He knew the lie was a good one because he wanted so badly for it to be true.
The servitors flashed their agreement.
“You can stop by my quarters whenever it makes sense if you discover anything useful about formation geometries,” Jedao said. “What I’ll do is start messing around with drills throughout the swarm, get Kujen to think I’m bored and playing with my toys. If he notices you, I’ll explain you were checking my math. It will even be true.”
Then we are agreed.
“Kujen will notice if we do this too often,” Jedao said. “You’ll know his surveillance systems better than I do.”
“We are accustomed to discretion.” Pink.
“I just bet. Thank you, then.”
When they had left, Jedao finished the food, then ungloved to wash his hands. In spite of himself, he’d gotten some grease on his fingers. He stripped to the waist and inspected himself in the mirror. Formerly he had been preoccupied with the scars. This time he saw how thin he looked, the prominent ribs, the starved, sunken eyes. How had he not noticed this before?
He hadn’t noticed because he hadn’t cared. Hang in there, he told the reflection with a hint of ghastly humor, then returned to the table and shoved the tray to the side.
The next step was coming up with orders for the tactical group commanders. He decided he’d leave Talaw in charge of coming up with exercises; Talaw would like that, and he had every faith in their ability. Meanwhile, he meant to speak with his infantry colonel. She would enjoy hearing from him. She had exuded pride in her profession each time he spoke with her. He remembered the beautiful drills she had presented him with, the infantry maneuvering in unison.
But first—
Jedao grabbed a slate. “I want to see my profile,” he said to the grid.
The profile appeared before him, although he couldn’t interpret great chunks of it. Jedao instructed the file to hide itself, then took up a second slate. From memory he took notes on all the battle records Kujen had showed him during their first meeting. He didn’t want the profile to distort his recollections.
He compared the notes to the profile. They matched up pretty well. The early battles were infantry battles. Other than Kujen’s garden, it was hard to imagine what that might be like. Bigger. A sky instead of ceilings. He knew what wind felt like, because of the garden’s artifice.
So the original Jedao had fought on planets. Did you think of them as being planets while you were on them? He had a notion of them as spinning spheres, like a child’s toys caught in the enveloping drift of the void. But they must seem different when you stood on them, looking up past the not-ceiling into the sky. How far up could you see?
While he could play any number of dramas or documentaries, this would make a much better excuse to converse with Muyyed. She would have stories to tell him. Or she would find a way to fake it. Either was fine as long as it convinced Kujen that he was acting out of insecurity about his abilities as a soldier, or boredom. Letting Kujen draw his own conclusions was the best strategy.