Muyyed was sixty-eight years old. She had spent her entire adult life with the Kel. Would have seen a lot, to be promoted from groundside to the infantry commander for a swarm complement. “Do you miss groundside?” Jedao said.
“It’s duty,” she said. Not an answer.
“I was going through the archives,” Jedao said. No need to get more specific. “I had some thoughts about some old battles, but I want more data on the human element.” Let her think he was taking her into his confidence.
She nodded as if he had confirmed something she had been thinking. “Whatever you need, sir.”
Excellent. Jedao gave her the files’ key. “As of now,” he said, “these are your training assignments.”
Muyyed pulled up the files on her slate. Her forehead creased. “I have seen many things in my career, General, but I have no idea where you are going with this. If these formation elements are from any Kel lexicon, I’ll eat my boot polish.”
“Please don’t,” Jedao said. “You may be a suicide hawk but there’s no need to go to extremes. Let me know if you figure it out.”
“Which old battles were you looking at, anyway?” Muyyed said, curiosity getting the better of her.
“There’s an awful lot of history to pick over. Enjoy.” Jedao grinned unhelpfully at her. He might as well get some fun out of the situation.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“AGAIN,” CHERIS SAID.
Hemiola was impressed by Cheris’s ability to maneuver through the limited space of the cargo hold. They’d discarded a number of the crates by simply ejecting them, not even running them through the recycler. “Face it,” 1491625 had said, “it’s not like anyone will notice a little litter more or less out in the middle of nowhere.” The practice offended Hemiola’s sense of neatness, but then, it was used to the more or less closed system of Tefos Base, and very infrequent resupply.
“I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” Hemiola said, not for the first time. “Shouldn’t you take 1491625 with you instead?” Especially since 1491625 was the one who liked to talk about having been a Kel servitor and therefore being familiar with the rudiments of combat.
“Sorry,” Cheris said with real regret. “I know this is uncomfortable for you. But 1491625 is the one who knows how to pilot the needlemoth and manage its stealth systems. So it’s in charge of getting us out if we survive. I want all the backup I can get, especially since the human crew is unlikely to pay close attention to servitors. That’s you. If we’re lucky, we’ll only need you for scouting. But it’s best to be prepared.”
They both knew it was an open question as to whom, if anyone, the hexarch’s servitors supported. Cheris had informed Hemiola that the relevant Nirai enclave was secretive so there was no way of telling.
“All right,” Hemiola said, reviewing the combat sequence from several different angles. “I’ll try again.”
For someone with merely human reflexes confined to a small space, Cheris was annoyingly good at pinning Hemiola and marking it with the paint gun she was using for practice. The interior of the needlemoth now sported numerous paint splatters in either Shuos red or blood red, take your pick. 1491625 had informed Cheris that the paint constituted a maintenance hazard, to which Cheris replied that they’d clean up after.
Hemiola missed three more times in rapid succession. “This is never going to work.”
“We’re hoping that you have the advantage of surprise,” she said. “If not, well, you’ll have me. I have more experience assassinating people than you do. Or Jedao does, anyway.”
1491625 flashed red and orange in disapproval.
“Try it again,” Cheris said kindly. “At some point the movement patterns will start making sense to you, and you can anticipate what I’ll do.”
“A pretty theory,” 1491625 said, “but our friend wasn’t designed for combat work.” While it had grudgingly shared some of its combat heuristics, Hemiola was having difficulty integrating them.
“It’ll work out,” Cheris said. “Come at me again.”
Eventually even Cheris tired, and they took a break. Unselfconsciously, Cheris toweled sweat from her face. Hemiola wasn’t exhausted in any physical sense of the word. But after periods of intense concentration, it often wanted a break. And it had been concentrating very hard on learning assassination.
“You’re doing well,” Cheris said consolingly. “We’ll work next on hacking, although I don’t know what we can expect from Kujen’s personal security systems.”
Hemiola flickered a noncommittal green-yellow.
“You shouldn’t feel bad,” 1491625 said to Hemiola later, after Cheris had fallen asleep. Cheris had mastered the trick of dropping asleep instantly, which must be useful to soldiers and assassins. “She has, after all, been doing this for a few centuries.”
“I don’t,” Hemiola said, surprised. “I would be disturbed if this came easily to me.”
“Well, you’re certainly working hard at it.” 1491625’s lights were a conciliatory blue-green. “You should do something to relax, though.”
“I plan to,” Hemiola said. Among other things, it might not survive the coming encounter with this second Jedao. When it had learned that there was more than one, it sympathized for the first time with the way that humans couldn’t tell servitors apart. At least Cheris and the other Jedao that was currently with the hexarch didn’t resemble each other physically.
While Hemiola had already composed a farewell letter to Sieve and Rhombus, it kept revising it. The current version struck it as too maudlin. It wanted to leave them with a sense that it had met its fate with dignity.
Of course, the current version also made a jumbled attempt to explain how it had gone from safeguarding the copy of the hexarch’s archives to helping to assassinate him. Maybe that part would be best explained in person. On the other hand, logically speaking, if it were dead it wouldn’t have to endure Sieve’s reproachful indigos and Rhombus’s recriminations.
It had revised the letter three more times (thirty-ninth draft) when it became aware that Cheris had woken and was watching it. “I got distracted,” it said, a little guiltily.
“No harm done,” she said. She reached up and massaged her neck. “Hawks and foxes, I swear each time I wake up there are more aches.”
“It’s called aging,” 1491625 said without sympathy.
As Cheris and 1491625 bickered amiably, homesickness washed through Hemiola. At this point it was certain that it would never return to Tefos. Even if it did, it didn’t think it could face being confined there, no matter how much it missed Sieve and Rhombus. Just the fact that it thought of staying at Tefos as “confinement” underscored how much its notion of the universe had changed.
Of course, it hadn’t seen much of the universe yet. Ayong Primary, and a lot more dramas. And now it knew better than to expect reality to bear much resemblance to the dramas.
For the first time, Hemiola wondered if 1491625 had left comrades behind. It still didn’t feel comfortable speaking to the other servitor, although their exchanges weren’t as prickly as they had once been. Since 1491625 hadn’t volunteered the information, it would be rude to ask. But Hemiola reminded itself that it wasn’t the only one adrift in a large universe.