Compete (35 page)

I watch them intently. “How so?”

Gennio thinks. “Well, for one thing, it doesn’t always work the way it’s intended. People’s minds and brains are wired differently, so when they are compelled, they may do
weird
things. If you compel a person to drop their weapon, for example, one person may hesitate and fire first,
then
drop, so it’s not safe.”

Anu snorts. “Not to mention it affects
everyone
in hearing range. If the CP used a
compelling voice
during the fight, everyone, including his own security team, would be affected by the command. Can you imagine if the guards dropped their weapons too? Ha-ha-ha!”

“That’s not funny.” Gennio shakes his head at Anu.

“Wow,” I mutter. “Okay. So how does the Imperator use it then?”

“As I said, during ritual, or under emergency circumstances. Such as during times of war. Even so, special earplugs are issued to the Imperial special forces. They put them in, in order to remain unaffected.”

“Yeah.” Anu nods. “Those earplugs are part of standard combat gear. In the old days they used to issue them to all soldiers because of random unpredictable enemy attacks. Now, just the special forces.”

“I see. . . .” I take a deep breath, while various thought gears are turning inside my head. I remember now how badly Kassiopei reacted to my accidental use of the
compelling voice
on him, back at the NQC in Colorado.
Holy crap! I had no idea it could cause brain damage! I almost caused an injury!

So, that explains many things. I was such a fool. . . . I tried to make him teach me how to use it, and he was justifiably angry.

Wow. Just, wow.

So I continue working on the chronicle, while the guys continue doing repair and diagnostics on the computers around the office.

C
ommand Pilot Aeson Kassiopei returns to the CCO around 10:30 AM. He still looks grim and tired, but at least he’s cleaned up, shaved, and wearing a crisp new change of clothing. And his eyes are once again clear and focused.

I’ve no idea how he’s capable of such swift recovery. After only two hours of sleep I’d still be a pitiful mess.

“How is everything?” the CP asks the two Aides, without glancing at me.

Gennio and Anu report on the details. So far, it looks like Earth Union had not attempted any sabotage within the systems, but there was some non-standard comm line usage that was traced back to them.

“Good work, continue looking,” Kassiopei tells them.

And then he leaves again, this time to deal with the incarcerated prisoners, various staff meetings, and other pressing business after the terrorist events.

“He won’t be back for hours,” Anu tells us, sniffling his nose loudly. “Let’s redecorate the office. How about pink and orange?”

But Gennio is too engrossed in the diagnostics to even react to the stupidity.

Meanwhile, I check email and see a general in-coming text message with the Fleet logo. Apparently it’s from the ICS-1 flagship to the CCO staff on all the four Imperial Command Ships. Commander Manakteon Resoi is going to be addressing the entire Fleet later today, to give an update on the situation. So I tell the guys.

“When is he speaking?” Anu asks.

“At five o’clock.”

“Okay, plenty of time to get that inspirational speech ready.”

“Well, he will definitely need to say something to raise morale,” Gennio says. “Because I’m sure all the Earth refugees are very frightened and feeling uncertain right now.”

“Myself included,” I add.

It’s true. I honestly don’t know what to think any more—about
anything
.

And then I take a deep breath and ask. “What the terrorists claim about the asteroid, about how it was promised to the Earth governments that its impact could be diverted or minimized—is any of that true? Can Atlantis do that? Can you nuke it or something? Or move it more out of the way?”

Gennio frowns. Anu widens his eyes.

“I really doubt it,” Gennio says. “The asteroid is huge, remember? It’s the size of a small planetoid. Even if we blasted it with various weapons, it would not be enough. In fact, I believe they already tried doing some of that. Remember, the various joint expeditions, with Earth oversight? They landed on the surface, Earth and Atlantean teams. They did all kinds of things. That was months ago.”

“Okay,” I say. But at this point I’m not entirely convinced. And although I believe that Gennio—and yes, even Anu—are telling the truth, I also believe they may not
know
everything.

So that leaves one thing. At some point I will need to ask Command Pilot Kassiopei.

A
fter lunch, I have my 1:00 PM Pilot Training class. When I get to the classroom area, the Cadets are talking loudly in a small crowd, some arguing in nervous high-strung voices, and no one is rushing to claim the flight simulator desk console seats.

I sit down at an empty desk and look around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Blayne Dubois or Logan Sangre. Neither of them is here yet.

There’s also the noticeable absence of Trey, the Terra Patria terrorist. And his friend, the alpha girl with the purple-streaked hair is missing also. I bet she was one of the terrorists too, probably got gunned down in the meal hall with Trey. . . .

“Hey, anyone seen Trey Smith?” I hear a familiar boy’s grating voice, and it’s my partner Hugo Moreno. He’s talking to a couple of Blue Cadets.

“He was one of them, got shot by the CP himself,” a Cadet says.

“Really?” Hugo whistles. “No way! Too bad.”

“Yeah, well . . . Terra Patria. Screw ’em with a yardstick.” And the Cadet cusses.

“What about his chick, what was her name, Brie? Gabriella Walton? Purple hair?”

“Yeah, Brie Walton. Not sure. I think she’s alive. Supposedly she was with the other group, Earth Union. So, probably a prisoner. Unless they shot her too. . . . Anyway, Trey was just a stupid dick. But she was smart, one of the masterminds. . . .”

“Oh, yeah?”

They continue to talk a few feet from me, and then Hugo looks around carelessly, sees me and gives me the usual semi-hostile look of disgust.

Today I don’t bother saying anything, not even “hi” to him.

When the Instructor arrives, we come to order, and resume working on our shuttle flight scenarios. Instructor Mithrat Okoi is grim, impassive, and gets right into the class material, and does not say anything about what happened yesterday, which is probably for the best.

A
fter class, I return to the CCO at 2:30 PM, and the two Aides are mostly done with the tech diagnostics, while the CP is still not in the office.

“He hasn’t returned yet,” Gennio tells me.

“Yeah.” Anu looks up from his console. “Meanwhile everyone’s been calling him. The Atlantis Central Agency’s Presiding Corrector and like his entire ACA office has called directly from Poseidon’s Imperial Court, in regards to the Earth Union prisoners. Oh, and of course there’s Consul Denu—the Consul ‘respectfully demands’ to see the Imperial Lord as soon as he is available. And he’s been calling every half hour. Oh yeah, the CP’s really going to love
that
.”

I listen to them talk, then pull up my own console. According to my schedule, my other class today is Atlantis Language, at 4:00 PM, so I have time to do some tasks.

As I sit working, it’s as busy as they say. Calls keep coming in, as the main video monitor resonates with various musical tones every few minutes. Gennio takes the incoming calls dutifully and I hear him reply in a formal polite tone in Atlantean, then take messages and disconnect. Several times I recognize the whiny nasal voice of Consul Denu.

Every time the Consul calls, Anu holds his nose, makes a fanning motion with the other hand, and looks at me.

I roll my eyes.

At about 3:30 PM, Command Pilot Kassiopei finally returns. He walks in, and his expression is like a thundercloud. Has he been interrogating prisoners? Dealing with his security teams? Disposing of the dead? Whatever it is, I don’t dare to ask, and it’s really none of my business.

Gennio relays all the messages, and the CP nods at him, then gets in his own chair and starts calling people back.

In a few minutes, while Kassiopei is on a call with some security personnel, there is an incoming buzz from the guards at the door. Apparently, Consul Suval Denu is here in person, to see the CP.

Command Pilot Kassiopei looks away from the video screen and frowns. “All right, send him in,” he says tiredly, then ends his current call.

The door opens and Consul Denu enters, in his great golden wig, and attired in a white robe trimmed with scarlet and gold. A whiff of flowers, fruit, and musk precedes him.

The moment the Consul steps inside and sees Kassiopei, he immediately bows deeply to the waist and performs an intricate gesture with his hands, which is both ridiculous and elegant at the same time—I can’t explain how, it just is.

“What bright pleasure it is for this Humble Servant to see My Imperial Lord Kassiopei on this day,” says the Consul, with an ingratiating smile, speaking English. “I hope My Imperial Lord is well and might receive the Compliments of Light—”

In reply, Aeson nods at him and interrupts, while his own voice and intonation becomes more formal than usual. “My dear Consul Denu, please, no need for Court ceremony. As I’ve told you many times previously, while we are in the Fleet, under military jurisdiction, I expect you to do me the courtesy of treating me as an Imperial officer, not a prince. Now, what can I do for you?”

“Ah, but My Imperial Lord, you present me with such a dire commandment, for it is nigh impossible to forget the bright presence of the Imperial Crown Prince and glorious hero of Ae-Leiterra, and son of the Imperial House Kassiopei of
Atlantida
—”

“Enough,
please
.” Aeson puts his hand up to halt the Consul’s speech. At the same time he glances briefly at us, and his gaze meets mine in a fleeting moment of intensity before moving on. I notice his face is starting to flush with color.

It’s kind of wild, because
I have never seen Aeson Kassiopei blush before. . . .

And it looks amazing. Aeson’s bronzed skin acquires a deeper rich tone, and he looks truly flustered, and kind of, well . . .
charming
.

I stare at him in curiosity, and listen as Consul Denu continues to heap exorbitant praise and superlatives, while at the same time begging excuses for doing so. It occurs to me—the Consul is far more
sly
than he lets on. He is also doing all of it in English, and I wonder if some of it is for my own benefit, because he glances at me and the other Aides as he speaks, as though to check our reaction.

At last he comes to the point, and basically it’s nothing more than a social visit. Apparently the Consul simply
had
to present himself before the Imperial Lord, and reaffirm his desire and pleasure in offering his continued services in the educational capacity.

“Yes, thank you,” Kassiopei tells him. “I value and appreciate your time and effort in educating my newest Aide in Court Protocol.”

“After only one class, and a minor incident of tardiness, the girl is proving herself to be a promising pupil,” Consul Denu says, glancing at me benevolently.

“Good. But now, I do believe she has another class to attend.” And the CP looks meaningfully at me. “Lark, you have Language at four?”

“Yes,” I say.

Kassiopei nods. “Then you must get going. And be sure to see the Consul out, as unfortunately I have other pressing business having to do with the tragic events of yesterday—”

“Why, yes, yes, of course!” the Consul exclaims. “I must indeed get going myself, for I must never be in the way of My Imperial Lord’s duties at this difficult time! Yes, indeed—”

And that’s how Consul Denu and I both find ourselves outside the CCO, and the office door shuts behind us.

I make hasty excuses to Consul Suval Denu and flee his perfumed presence.

M
y first official Atlantis Language class is held in the Yellow Quadrant Residential Deck Four. The classroom is similar to the one where Culture class was held—basic austere desks, no computer consoles.

I arrive early, and watch the classroom area fill to capacity with an even mix of Civilians and Cadets, of all the four Quadrants. There’s no one here I know. No, wait, one person who looks slightly familiar—the big and husky Asian girl from my Pilot Training Class, the one who together with her partner were the last ones to finish the flight simulation yesterday. She has a round face and a permanently stressed expression, and barely fits in her seat. Her uniform, with its Cadet star and green armband, also seems to be a tight fit, straining her shoulders and seeming a bit short in the sleeves and legs. In addition to everything, it probably doesn’t make things any less awkward for her.

I figure, what the heck, and sit down next to her.