There were times he woke up at night sweating, from dreams of the man he might have become in the Land.
"Let me think," he said.
"Agreed. But not for long."
He dropped his head into his hands. Jeff, you following this?
You bet, brother. You going to ask them for something in writing?
Out of character, he answered. A Chosen officer's word is supposed to be good. I don't have much time.
Although surely they knew that he knew he'd never leave the room alive if he refused. The embassy could be relied upon to have a way of disposing of bodies.
He raised his head again. No problem in showing a little worry, and he could smell his own sweat, heavy with the peculiar rankness of stress.
"I'm engaged to be married to an Imperial," he said.
The colonel shrugged. "Marriage is out of the question, of course, but after the conquest, you can have your pick for pleasure. Take the bitch as you please, or a dozen others."
Gerta winced and touched her superior on the sleeve, whispering in her ear.
John shook his head. "Anything that applies to me, applies to Pia. Or no deal."
The colonel's eyes narrowed. "You have already been offered more than is customary," she warned.
"No. Pia, or nothing."
Gerta touched the colonel's sleeve again. "We should discuss this, sir," she said.
"Agreed. Hosten, retire to the end of the room, please."
He obeyed, facing away from the table. The two Chosen leaned together, speaking in whispers. Far too softly for anyone to overhear. . anyone without Center's processing power, that was. The computer was limited to the input of John's senses, but it could do far more with them than his unaided brain.
"What do you make of it, captain?" the colonel asked.
"I'm not sure, sir. If he'd agreed without insisting on the woman, I'd have said we should kill him immediately-that would be an obvious fake. The woman. . that makes it possible he's sincere. . but he'd also know that I know him well."
Thanks a lot, Gerta.
"As it is, I still suspect he's lying. Immediate termination would be the low-risk option here."
"I was under the impression that you thought highly of this Johan Hosten."
"I do. Heinrich and I named a son after him. I respect his courage and intelligence; which is why he's too dangerous to live unless he's on our side."
"He seems inclined to agree to the proposition."
"He'd have to anyway, wouldn't he?"
"What evidence do you have to suppose he lies?"
"Gestalt. I lived with him until he was twelve and we've corresponded since. He's committed to the Republic, absurd though that may sound. He believes. And John Hosten would never betray a cause in which he believed."
A long silence. "As you say, the Republic's ideology is absurd-and he is, from the records, not a stupid or irrational man. Termination is always an option, but it is irrevocable once exercised. We will test him; his position is potentially a priceless asset. And we are offering him the ultimate reward, after all."
"Colonel, please record my objection and recommendation."
"Captain, this is noted." Aloud: "Johan Hosten, attend."
When he was standing beside the chair, she continued: "We will concede this woman Probationer-Emeritus status."
Second-class citizenship, but if married to one of the Chosen her children would be automatically entitled to take the Test of Life. Although they'd know he could sire no children. He blinked, keeping his face carefully neutral. Pia had wept when he told her that, and he'd been afraid, really afraid.
"This is. ." He stopped and began again. "You understand, I've been growing more and more frustrated with Santander. You must know that, if your sources inside the Foreign Office are as good as I suspect. I keep telling them the risks, and they ignore them." He shrugged. "As you said, it makes no sense to fight for those who won't fight for themselves." He stood, and gave the Chosen salute. "I agree. Command me, colonel!"
The colonel returned the gesture. Gerta stared at him with cold appraisal, biting at her lip thoughtfully. Then she shook her head and made a small gesture to the senior officer, a thumb-pull, much the same as one would make to cock a pistol before shooting someone in the back of the head.
Colonel von Kleuron looked at them both and then shook her head.
John fought back an impulse to let out a long sigh of relief. They aren't going to kill me now. Thanks, Gerta, thanks a lot.
Although he should have expected it. He'd always known his foster-sister was smart, and she did know him well.
"Johan Hosten."
The basset-hound face of the colonel allowed itself a slight smile.
"You have made a wise decision. You will be dropped at some distance, and contacted when appropriate. May your service to the Chosen be long and successful."
"Welcome back, Johnnie," Gerta said. "I'm sure you'll make a first-class operative. You've got natural talent."
* * *
Lucky bastard, Jeffrey said silently.
No, it's Chosen arrogance, John replied from half a continent away. A faint overlay of the controls of a road steamer came through the link, beyond it a long dusty country road.
Jeffrey smiled, imagining serious expression and the slight frown on his stepbrother's face.
Have they contacted you since? he said/thought.
No. It's only been three days, and they're very busy. The whole Land embassy staff left on the last dirigible.
Jeffrey lifted his coffee cup. It was morning, but some of the other patrons in the streetside cafe had already made a start on something stronger. Many of them were settling in with piles of newspapers or books, or just enjoying the perennial Imperial sport of people-watching. The coffee was excellent, and the platter of pastries extremely tempting; you had to admit, there were some things the Imperials did very well. His contact should be showing up any minute.
Give me a look at the activity in the harbor, John requested. Jeffrey turned slightly in his seat and looked downhill; Center would be supplying the visual input to John.
Awful lot of Chosen shipping still there, his stepbrother commented.
They're still delivering cod, Jeffrey replied. To the naval stockpiles, no less.
My esteemed prospective father-in-law, John thought dryly, assures me that the Imperial armed forces are ready down to the last gaiter button. Quote unquote.
Is the man a natural-born damned fool?
No, he just can't afford to face the truth. I think he wishes he'd died before this. . and he's glad Pia will be safe in Santander.
Speaking of which, we should-Jeffrey began. Then: Wait.
A dirigible was showing over the horizon, just barely. Jeffrey was in officer's garrison dress, which included a case for a small pair of binoculars as well as a service revolver. He drew the glasses and stood, looking down the long street leading to the harbor. The airship wasn't in Land Air Service colors, just a neutral silvery shade with a Landisch Luftanza company logo on the big sharkfin control surfaces at the rear. A large model, two hundred meters in length and a quarter that in maximum diameter. One of the latest types, with the gondola built into the hull and six engines in streamlined pods held out from the sides by struts covered in wing-like farings.
"That isn't a scheduled carrier," he said to himself.
correct. vessel is land air service heavy military transport design. A brief flash of a report he'd read several months ago. sharkwhale class.