Investments (4 page)

In a half-second data flashed on the screen. Martinez chose the first listing, and saw a page from the Meridian Company’s official prospectus of the Chee development. He absorbed the information.

“Allodorm’s chief engineer for the Meridian Company,” he said. “He’s in charge of all their projects on Chee.
All
of them.”

He turned to Terza and saw her pensive expression. “Something wrong?” he said.

A serene smile crossed her face, the one he knew for its falsity.

“Nothing at all,” she said.

*

“Daddy says I’m a genius. Daddy says I’m going to do great things.”

“I’m sure you are,” said Severin.

“I’m going to smash Naxids.” The dark-haired child raised a hand over his head. In his fist was a toy warship. He flung it on the polished asteroid material of the verandah. “
Bang
!”

“Good shot,” Severin observed.

He’d grown with a pair of younger sisters, and knew how to keep a young child entertained. Lord Gareth Chen— who bore his father’s first name but the surname of his mother, who was the Chen heir and ranked higher— picked up the warship and flung it again. Wet explosive sounds came from his pursed lips.

“But what if the Naxids come from
this
direction?” Severin asked, and leaned out of his metal whitewashed chair to threaten the boy’s flank.

“Bang
!”

“Or from here?” The other flank.

“Bang
!”

“Or here?” Overhead.

“Bang
!”

Lord Gareth the Younger was at a stage of life where this could go on for quite a while before he got bored. Having nothing better to do, Severin was content to continue the game, though his thoughts were elsewhere.

He had awakened that morning with a dream clinging to his memory like a shroud. In the dream he had been driving up the oak alley toward the house, beneath the series of iron arches, and somehow one of the arches had transformed itself into a proscenium, and he’d stepped through the proscenium onto a stage that was the house.

The house had been covered with lights, and a party had been under way. The guests glittered in fine clothes and uniforms. Severin knew none of them. Their conversation was strangely oblique, and Severin kept feeling that he could understand them if only he listened a little harder. At some point he discovered that they were not people at all, but automata, smiling and glimmering as they spoke words that had been pre-programmed by someone else.

In the dream Severin hadn’t found this discovery horrifying, but intensely interesting. He wandered through the party listening to the conversation and admiring the brilliance of the puppets’ design.

When he woke he was still under the spell of the dream. He breakfasted alone on the terrace— apparently his hosts were not yet awake— and he found himself thinking about the strange conversations that he’d heard, and trying to work out the obscure story behind them.

He thought about going back to bed and hoping to pick the dream up where it had left off, but at this point Gareth Junior arrived, and the battle with the Naxids began.

He was rescued in time by Martinez, who came out of the house and lunged at his son, scooping him up in both arms and whirling him overhead as the child shrilled his laughter.

Following Martinez from the house came his older brother Roland, who carried a cup of coffee in one hand. Both wore civilian clothes, which made Severin more conscious than usual of his shabby uniform.

“I suppose it won’t be long before I’m behaving like that,” Roland said as he watched Martinez twirling his son.

“I suppose it won’t,” Severin said.

Roland sipped coffee. Martinez tucked his son under one arm and turned to Severin. “Has the boy prodigy been bothering you?”

“He’s been mashing Naxids, mostly.”

Martinez grinned. “Exercising tactical genius, eh? Just like his father!” Young Gareth still under his arm, Martinez sprinted into the house as the child waved his fists and laughed aloud.

“Perhaps I
won’t
behave like that, after all,” Roland decided.

Martinez returned a few moments later, having delivered his offspring to the nursemaid. He combed his disordered hair with his fingers and dropped into the whitewashed metal chair next to Severin.

“I saw you dancing last night,” he said. “With a curly-haired girl.”

“Lady Consuelo Dalmas,” Severin said.

“Consuelo.” Martinez blinked. “I thought she looked familiar. I used to see her older sister, when we were all, ah, much younger.”

“She’s invited me to a garden party tomorrow afternoon.”

Martinez smiled. “Have a good time.”

“I will.” He considered offering a resigned sort of sigh and decided against it. “Of course,” he added, “sooner or later either she or her parents will discover that I’m not a Peer, and have no money, and then I won’t see her again.” Severin clasped his hands between his knees. “But then I’m used to that.”

Martinez gave him an unsettled look. “You’re not regretting your promotion, I hope.”

“No.” Severin considered. “But it’s made me aware of how many locked doors there are, doors that I once had no idea even existed.”

“If there’s anything I can do to open them . . . “ Martinez ventured.

“Thank you. I’m not certain there’s anything that can be done.”

“Unless we have another war,” Roland said. “Then all bets are off.”

Smiling lightly to himself, Roland walked to the verandah rail and looked out into the oak alley, raising his head at the honeyed scent of the o-pii flowers floating on the morning breeze. “Consuelo’s not right for you anyway, if you don’t mind my saying so,” he said. “Too young, too much a part of the fashionable set. What you need is a comely widow, or a young woman married to a dull old husband.”

Martinez looked at him. “You don’t have anyone in mind, do you?”

“Let me put my mind to it.”

Martinez gave Severin an uneasy look. “Better make your wishes plain. Roland has disturbing success as a matchmaker.”

There was something in the air, Severin felt, some history between the brothers that made this an uncomfortable moment.

“I’m only here for a month,” Severin said.

“Narrow window of opportunity,” Roland said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Martinez looked at Roland. “Apropos conspiracy,” he said, “do you know anything about Allodorm, Meridian Company’s chief engineer?”

“I’ve met him on Chee Station,” Severin said. “Though I haven’t conspired with him.”

“I haven’t met him at all,” Roland said. He turned around, eyes mild as he contemplated his brother. “I appreciate your confidence in my omniscience, but what I really do is look after family interests in the Convocation. I’m not really connected to the Chee development business.”

“Terza thinks that Allodorm’s a swindler,” Martinez said. “And if she’s right, he’s in a perfect place to walk off with a lot of our money.”

Roland absorbed this with a distracted frown. “What does Terza know, exactly?”

“During the war, he took the money to build five ships and then didn’t build them.”

Severin felt a moment of shock. As an officer in government service he was familiar enough with waste and theft, but five whole missing ships seemed extreme.

There was a moment of silence, and then Roland turned to Severin.

“I’d appreciate your discretion,” he said.

“Certainly,” Severin said.

“There may not be anything in this,” Roland said.

“Of course,” Severin said.

He found himself fascinated by the interactions in this household, the delicate play between the decorated Fleet officer and his politician brother. Since his promotion he’d had the opportunity to observe several Peer families, and none had been quite like this one.

“I wish I knew who hired Allodorm,” Martinez said pensively.

“Lord Pa, presumably,” Roland said. “The question is whether Lord Pa know about the Fleet ships, or cared if he did.” He pulled another of the metal chairs toward Severin and sat. “Would you tell us about this Allodorm?”

Severin shrugged. “He’s a Daimong. Youngish, I think, though with Daimong it’s hard to tell. When
Surveyor
first docked at Chee Station, he was on hand to make sure we got everything we needed. I thought that was very good of him.”

“Were you treated well?” Roland asked.

“Yes. Since I’m the exec, the lord captain assigned me to work with Allodorm, and it was first-class all the way. Supplies came aboard within hours of submitting our requests. The victuals were fresh. Allodorm put one of the worker hostels at Port Vipsania at the disposal of our liberty crew, and he hosted a dinner for the officers.”

“Nothing odd?” Martinez asked. “Nothing a little off-center in the way the station’s run?”

“Other than it being first-class, no,” Severin said. “In the Exploration Service we’re used to things being more worn and shabby— it’s not like we’ve got the Fleet’s prestige or budget— but everything on Chee Station was new and shiny and efficient. The facilities were bigger than they needed, but then there are plans to expand.”

The brothers contemplated this. “I don’t suppose we should tell our father.”

“What would we tell him? We’ve got dozens of inspectors on Chee anyway— what can he do that they can’t?”

Martinez gave a little shrug. “Not get bribed?” he said.

“Father’s supposed to open the meeting of the Petitioners’ Council in something like fifteen days.” Roland gave a tight little smile. “If he abandons his task and goes charging off to Chee on the
Ensenada
to expose the wicked
,
that’s all the warning Allodorm or anyone else is going to need. Everything would be tidied up by the time he gets there.”

“And you?”

“I’m not going anywhere until Cassilda has our baby, after which the whole family will leave for Zanshaa so that I can sit in Convocation.”

Martinez sighed. “I’m the Lord Inspector, aren’t I? I suppose it’s up to me to inspect.”

Severin thought again about the two brothers. They knew each other well, they worked together deftly, they had a shared history and vocabulary. It occurred to Severin, however, that perhaps they didn’t like each other.

“Lady Liao,” Roland said suddenly.

Martinez looked at him. “Beg pardon?”

Roland turned to Severin. “Lady Liao, wife of Lord Judge Omohundro. She’s perfect for you. Her husband’s on the ring tied up in a long series of hearings, and I’m sure she’s looking for amusement.”

Severin could do nothing but stare.
Can you
do
that?
he wanted to ask.

Roland looked at him. “Shall I invite her to tea?” he said.

*

“We are holding at five minutes,” said Lord Go Shikimori, captain of the
Surveyor
.

“Holding at five minutes, my lord,” said Severin.

Surveyor
awaited final permission from Ring Control to launch on its mission through Chee and Parkhurst to the possible wormholes beyond. Encircled by the round metal hoops of his acceleration cage, Severin glanced down at the pilot’s board before him— it was he who would steer
Surveyor
from the ring and into the great emptiness beyond. Not that the job was particularly difficult.

The lights of the pilot’s board glittered on the ring Severin wore on the middle finger of his right hand. Nine small sapphires sparkled around a central opal. The ring had been a parting gift from Lady Liao, one sapphire for each night she and Severin had spent together.

For a moment he was lost in reverie, memories of smooth cool sheets, silken flesh, Lady Liao’s subtle scent. Wind chimes that saluted the dawn on the balcony outside her room.

Lord Roland Martinez, he thought, was very, very intelligent.

“Message from Ring Control, my lord,” reported Lord Barry Montcrief, who sat at the comm board— he had the drawling High City accent that Lord Go preferred as the official voice of his ship. “Permission granted to depart the station en route to Chee system.”

“Resume countdown,” the captain said.

“Countdown resumed,” said Warrant Officer Lily Bhagwati, who sat at the engines station.

“Depressurize boarding tube. Warn crew for zero gravity.”

“Depressurizing boarding tube.” Alarms clattered through the ship. “Zero gravity alarm, my lord.”

Severin checked his board, took the joysticks in his hands, rotated them. “Maneuvering thrusters gimbaled,” he said. “Pressure at thruster heads nominal.”

“Boarding tube depressurized.”

“Withdraw boarding tube,” said the captain.