At length the gathering broke up, and he and Rami walked to his car. The rain had virtually stopped, and an umbrella escort wasn't necessary. Veeri had some difficulty inserting his security card into the control panel, and realized then that he'd drunk more than he'd intended. But he was basically sober, he told himself; the subject matter had contributed to that.
Once out of the hills, he speeded up. The clouds had broken, the broad gaps glittering with stars. Out there somewhere was his world-not just Klestron, but his new world.
I never expected to wish the Kalif well, he thought. Now I have to, in the matter of invasion. And really, what happened to me was my fault as much as his: He wronged me, but I invited it. I let a pretty face, a pretty ass, turn my head, and so did he. I forgot what I could be, and should be, only thought about getting that yellow-haired witch into bed.
Then the warning panel began flashing red on his screen, and he slowed. PULL TO THE SIDE OF THE ROAD AND STOP. YOU WERE DRIVING 56 MPH
IN A 48 MPH ZONE. A POLICE FLOATER WILL LAND BEHIND YOU.
With a disgusted curse, he obeyed. Two minutes later, a policeman stood beside his car. "Sorry, mlord," the man said, seeing the nobility mark on Veeri's forehead. "But I'll have to take a blood sample. Just a drop or two. It won't hurt a bit."
It didn't, but the results did. Veeri and Rami got into the police floater for a ride to the precinct station, while another officer brought in his new car, riding the system. Rami was questioned and released; Veeri gave her money for the cab. Then he was booked, and led to a small, but clean and reasonably comfortable cell.
"Just till tomorrow, m'lord," he was told. "Your alcohol level is illegal, but low enough that a first offence is a misdemeanor. You'll come before a magistrate in the morning, and when you've paid your fine, you'll be released. If it had been a felony-But I'm sure you'll be more careful the next time."
He'd just lain down when the realization struck him, hard enough that he sat up and slammed his fist into his palm. On Klestron, if a government employee was booked by the police for any infraction, even the most minor, a report was faxed to his supervisor. No doubt it was the same here. And if the report mentioned Rami…
Probably it wouldn't though, he told himself. She wasn't relevant to the infraction.
He lay back down, not fully reassured.
Thirty-nine
The young man heard almost all of it.
He'd come to present a petition to the Kalif's chief aide. Not his own petition; his employer's. He was administrative assistant to the managing editor of The Informer, a newszine charged with infringing on a government copyright, a technical but potentially troublesome charge. After giving his name to the exarch's secretary, the young man had sat down across the small waiting room from another man come to see the exarch.
The petition bearer had a quick and accurate memory, a very useful attribute in his job. A quick memory and a quick mind. Thus he recognized the other man from his picture as one of the Klestronu who'd arrived to brief His Reverence on the Confederation Army, eight or ten weeks earlier. It was his picture they'd featured in the news note, because he looked like a dashing marine combat officer should look: tall, handsome, and capable.
He should have stayed in the marines. He didn't appear as impressive in civilian clothes.
After a minute or so, a lesser prelate emerged from the exarch's office. Shortly afterward the secretary sent the Klestronit in, then said something into his commset and hurried out as if to the men's room.
"Colonel Thoglakaveera, you'd better have a good explanation for this."
The stern words, not loud but audible, startled the petition bearer. They came from the exarch's office. The door hadn't fully closed itself behind the Klestronit; it had caught on a wrinkle in the rug.
"You refer to the traffic violation, Lord Exarch?"
"Don't throw dust in my eyes, Colonel. What were you doing out with a young woman?"
"[Something something] party in the Anan Hills. There's nothing between us. There were [something something] there. [Name not clearly heard] can vouch for me."
"He'd better, because I intend to check this with him. I'm also going to check on the young woman; see what kind of reputation she has."
There was a pause. The continuation was stated mildly but firmly. "Now listen, and listen well, Colonel. The Kalif is a busy man with a great deal on his mind. He doesn't need this on his plate. So I'm going to do you a very large favor. I'm not going to report this unless I find you've lied to me. And you'd better hope I don't, because the Kalif will be quite upset if he thinks you've broken your agreement with him."
There was a long moment's silence then, as if the exarch were thinking, making a decision. "For the remainder of your probation-which has less than six weeks left to run now, remember-you're to abide scrupulously by the terms of your agreement. You'll be subject to surveillance from time to time, to ensure that you do so. And if you wish to be away from your lodgings beyond 10 P.M., call Mr. Arvadhoraji, giving him full and truthful particulars and obtaining his permission.
"Do I have your pledge?"
The eavesdropper couldn't make out the murmured reply.
"Good. I truly dislike requiring these further conditions of you. You are, after all, an officer, and a nobleman of excellent family. But you violated your agreement, and these conditions are less onerous than they might be, as I'm sure you appreciate.
"Do you have any questions or comments?"
There was another inaudible reply.
"Good. Then go with Kargh."
A moment later the Klestronit came out grim-faced, noticing neither that the door had been ajar nor that anyone was in the waiting room. He swept through and out, into the hall and gone.
The young editorial assistant contemplated what he'd heard. Interesting! Very interesting! It seemed that the colonel's principal violation was having an unknown young woman in his company. Perhaps in a vehicle; seemingly a traffic violation had been involved. And what about this would so greatly concern the Kalif? What was their agreement?
When he got back to the office, he was going to query the available data bases, see what he could learn about it and what might he beneath it. It had the smell of profit, not for The Informer, but for himself.
Forty
Major General Arbind Vrislakavaro, commanding officer of the Capital Division, gave his name to the sergeant and sat down. He wondered what the Chief of the Imperial General Staff had called him in for. Ordinarily, communication short of some major conference would have been handled via commset. And ordinarily, any order to come in would have included the purpose. This message had simply referred to "a brief meeting."
He'd been seated for less than a minute when the sergeant spoke again: "General, the general is ready to see you now."
The Chief of Staff got to his feet as the division commander entered. "Good to see you, Chesty," he said, and leaned across his desk to shake hands. "Have a chair." When his guest had sat down, the COS gestured at a gleaming silver pot. "Coffee?"
"Forty drops."
Bavaralaama knew the Vorgan idiom for "fill it up." Taking two tall clear insulglass mugs from a shelf, he drew them full. The coffee looked black as tar, but the aroma was excellent. "If that's more than forty drops," he chuckled, handing a mug to his guest, "just leave what you don't want. The Kalif's new orders haven't left us that short of money."
He sat down then, settled back and took a sip from his own mug. "You're wondering what this is about. First of all, nothing I'll say here is criticism. Certainly not of you. I'll simply be pointing out a situation.
"Officers have opinions. Sometimes strong opinions. And there's nothing wrong with that. Also they like to voice them to their fellow officers. Normally there's nothing wrong with that either, if they're not treasonous or grossly immoral.