Without a Front (15 page)

Lanaril shook her head, startled by the compliment.

“I was. It's part of the reason we're friends. So I was hoping we could listen to that bell together, without any fronts, because tonight I want to relax and be with someone who understands what it is we've just done. And maybe you can explain to me why it so often feels wrong to do the right thing.”

Instead of answering with words, Lanaril dropped her front.

A smile spread across Andira's face, and a moment later Lanaril received the gift of full access to her emotions. There was no greater proof of friendship.

“I'm honored,” Lanaril said. “Both by your trust and by the fact that you chose to come here this evening. Besides, I wasn't looking forward to spending two hanticks alone, listening to that bell and thinking far too much.” She lifted her glass. “So this will help us not think, right?”

“Eventually. If we drink enough of it.”

“Did you bring enough?”

“If I didn't, there are Guards right outside your door who would be delighted to bring us a fresh bottle.”

“There are definite advantages to your position,” Lanaril said, and tossed down the rest of her drink. This time it didn't burn.

CHAPTER 25
A new delegate

 

After the Voloth euthanasia, Tal
was swept up into a whirlwind of meetings and appearances. The demand for her time was unending, most of it still centered around matter printer issues. There were days when she wondered what in Fahla's name she had been thinking when she negotiated that particular part of the Gaian treaty. Today was one of those days.

She hurried through the State House, already late for a meeting with the producer delegation. She did not tolerate tardiness in others, and knowing that she was guilty of it put her in a poor temper.

So it was with considerable embarrassment and displeasure that she entered the meeting room to hear a delegate saying, “How can we trust the Lancer to control the effects of this technology when she can't even track her calendar?”

“I assure you I am perfectly capable of tracking my calendar,” Tal said, taking her seat at the head of the long table. The delegation went silent and every member sat down in unison. Tal glared down the length of the table at the speaker, a tall, dark-haired woman who stared back at her with a distinct lack of respect. “You're not an original delegate. Why are you here?”

The woman answered immediately and in a clear voice. “Delegate Norsen is ill today and asked me to attend in his stead.”

“I see.” Tal hadn't been notified of the substitution, but then she hadn't had time to read Aldirk's morning report either. She hated being caught off stride, and her mood deteriorated further. “What is your name?”

“Salomen Opah. My family has owned a holding near Granelle for twelve generations.”

“Well, Raiz Opah,” Tal said, using the formal address for a producer, “as a substitute, you may be unaware of delegation protocol. I will not waste the time of your fellows explaining it, but one aspect you should know is that you will be expected to limit your opinions to the issue at hand. Speculation on my leadership, or even my calendar-tracking capability, is not considered to be the purview of this delegation.”

The mood of the room shifted into one of sharp-edged caution as the delegates registered Tal's ire. She felt it easily; these people were untrained and did not front their emotions well. It had made the meetings rather interesting in the past, but today it just annoyed her. What annoyed her most, however, was that the one person who should have been most cautious remained stubbornly immune.

She called the meeting to order and moved to the agenda, wanting nothing more than to get this over with and retreat to her quarters for a little quiet time.

Discussion was subdued at first, but Opah quickly established herself as the most active member, speaking with great conviction whenever an agenda item was opened to comment. As the hantick wore on, Tal found herself grudgingly admiring her obvious intelligence and ability to articulate concerns and issues. Indeed, Opah was a far better contributor to discussion than Norsen had ever been. By the end of the meeting, Tal's earlier ire had evaporated and she found herself looking forward to what was sure to be an interesting interaction.

With considerable though well-fronted relief, she dismissed the group at the end of the hantick, thanking them for their attendance and contributions. As the room filled with the sounds of scraping chairs and rustling fabric, Tal raised her voice to add, “Raiz Opah, please stay a moment.”

There was a slight pause before the bustle resumed, and Opah sat down as the delegates finished collecting their belongings and filed out. Tal could easily feel their concern, along with a few gleeful thoughts. Apparently, Opah was not universally loved among her peers.

The last delegate closed the door behind him. Still Tal waited, feeling Opah's nervousness increase. She certainly had presence; by her face and posture no one would know she felt anything but complete self-assurance. Nevertheless, she did not like being alone in the room with the Lancer.

At last Tal said quietly, “Please inform Delegate Norsen that if he does not wish to attend these meetings, there are other and far more advisable methods for resolving that issue than sending in a substitute to lie for him.”

Opah's eyes widened as her nervousness turned sharp. “Lancer Tal, I assure you that he was truly unable to attend today. He—”

“Do not compound one lie with another,” Tal interrupted. “The first I can excuse, because you lied not for yourself but for a friend. The second I will not, because I don't appreciate being taken for a fool.”

There was a heavy silence as they stared at each other, but Opah's trepidation was swiftly overtaken by curiosity.

“I don't think anyone could take you for a fool,” she said. “How did you know?”

“You don't front your emotions well.”

“I front my emotions very well,” Opah said indignantly, then paused. “Oh…I'd heard you were a powerful empath.”

Tal nodded. “It takes empathic strength to fill this role. Without it I'd be easily hoodwinked by well-meaning delegates.”

Opah smiled, but it soon slipped from her face. “Is Norsen in trouble?”

“Yes.”

She leaned forward in alarm. “Please, Lancer Tal, can't you possibly just…overlook it? He means well, and he did his best, but he's just not comfortable with these proceedings. His bondmate put his name in the system without his knowledge, and when he was selected, he felt he should do his duty. But he told me he's not making a contribution and wished my name had been drawn instead. So I told him I'd go in his place.”

Tal wanted to laugh but kept a straight face and a rigid emotional front. “I see,” she said calmly. “That does change things. Instead of one lawbreaker I must deal with two.”

Opah sat back, stunned. But before she could become truly afraid, Tal continued, “Then the punishment is this: Raiz Norsen is hereby removed from the delegation permanently, and you will take his place. You're about to become very familiar with the State House, Delegate Opah.”

She opened her mouth, then shut it again. “You're making me a delegate?”

Never one to repeat herself, Tal simply waited.

“But…I had the distinct impression that you didn't appreciate my input today. You argued me down at least four times. I would have expected you to prefer someone who was…easier to work with.”

A chuckle escaped. “You've never attended a Council session, have you?”

Opah shook her head.

“Come to the public gallery some time, and you'll see that relative to what I'm forced to deal with in that chamber, you're easy to work with. But you don't have that reputation among your peers, do you?”

Mutely, she shook her head again, and Tal felt a tiny bit of sympathy for her.

“I don't favor sycophants,” she said. “I prefer intelligent, thoughtful individuals who have something to say, are not afraid to say it, and are motivated by what's best for Alsea rather than themselves. You qualify.” She rose, and as Opah followed suit, she added, “However, I'd advise against lying to me again. I appreciate forthrightness, even if it's not necessarily something I want to hear. But I don't appreciate deception in any form.”

“I understand. It won't happen.”

Tal nodded and opened the door. “Until next time, then.”

Opah hesitated, plainly uncertain about preceding the Lancer. When Tal waved her through, she stopped on the other side and turned. “Thank you,” she said. “For looking past my, er, excuse—and for that backhanded compliment. I'll do my best to be a good delegate.”

“I have a feeling you'd do your best regardless of the situation. You don't strike me as the kind of person who does anything with less than a full heart.”

“Can you tell that from skimming me?”

“No. I could tell that from arguing with you.”

Opah raised an eyebrow. “Change your policies and you'll hear a lot less of that from me.”

“Well, there's a novel form of political blackmail. But not an effective one, I'm afraid.”

“It was worth a try. Until next time, Lancer Tal.”

Tal watched her walk down the corridor, noting that her confident stride matched her attitude.

The producer delegate meetings had just gotten more interesting.

CHAPTER 26
Quantum com call

 

Tal nearly jumped out of
her chair when the pad chimed, announcing a quantum com call being routed in from the
Caphenon
. She was expecting it, but a thrill of anticipation still charged down her spine as she set her book on the side table. She crossed the room to the waist-high bookcase beneath the wall of windows and picked up the pad from its stand next to her Filessian orchid. It was active, showing the Protectorate Fleet symbol and the name
Captain Ekatya Serrado
.

Tal tapped the symbol and watched it give way to the smiling face of Ekatya.

“Well met, stranger,” Ekatya said.

“Well met.” Tal's own smile was out of proportion to the banality of their greeting. “I haven't seen you in a moon. Where are you?”

“At the Quinton Shipyards. I'm overseeing the final preparations, and Lhyn's joining me in three days for the ceremony. Shippers, I wish you could be here for this.”

“I wish I could, too.”

“She's beautiful, Andira.” Ekatya's dark blue eyes were glowing with happiness. “Absolutely beautiful, and I still can't quite believe she's mine. Have I thanked you for that lately?”

“At least six times.”

“Make it seven. I took photos during my tour today. Want to see?”

“Of course I want to see. Let me get set up.” Tal carried the pad back to her chair, set it on the side table, and tapped it to bring up the larger virtual screen. She oriented it to face her and sat back with her glass of spirits in hand. “I'm ready.”

“Okay. This is from the observation deck.”

Ekatya vanished, and in her place was a sleek silver ship crouched inside the protective arms of a space dock. It looked like the
Caphenon
in every way, except it had no crash damage and its hullskin was perfect, reflecting the lights that shone from the dock. Tiny craft could be seen buzzing around it—though, of course, tiny was relative. Those craft were probably half the size of Tal's state transport.

“I never saw the
Caphenon
look like that,” Tal said. “It really is gorgeous.”

“I know.” Ekatya's voice was light. “And she's not an it. She's a she. Get your terminology right.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Ekatya laughed. “I'll make a Fleeter out of you yet. We just have to work on the obeying orders part.”

“You'll be working on that for a long time.”

The image shifted again, and now she was looking at a closer view.

“This is from the dock ferry. I was being taken out to the shuttle bay.”

“Ferry? You mean you can't just walk aboard from the space dock?”

“I could if I wanted to spend half a hantick walking. One of the privileges of being a captain is that I can request a dock ferry to take me on the scenic route.” Now the gigantic engine cradle filled the screen, emblazoned with the name of Ekatya's new Pulsar-class ship.

Tal translated the Common letters and sounded it out. “Pho…nix?”

“Phoenix. Just pretend the o isn't there.”

“That isn't what you told me it would be called.”

“She.”

“She,” Tal repeated.

“I won't give up on you. Yes, Fleet changed the name. It's unusual, but not unheard of. And in this case, it's perfect. A phoenix is an old Gaian legend, a bird that was associated with the sun. It lived a thousand cycles or more, and when it died, it died like a star shedding its outer layers: kaboom. Then it was resurrected from the ashes of its old body to start life anew.”

Tal sucked in a breath. “She's the resurrection of the
Caphenon
.”

Ekatya reappeared on the screen, her face alight with pleasure. “You
are
trainable!”

For a moment Tal's heart ached to see such joy in her friend. In the short time they had together on Alsea, there wasn't much occasion for joy. She wished she could have been the one putting that expression on Ekatya's face.

Then again…wasn't she? Ekatya had command of that ship because Tal had pulled every negotiating trick she knew to get it.

They chatted about the ship, the upcoming launch ceremony, and Lhyn's latest activities, and when they had exhausted Ekatya's life, they turned to Alsea.

“I'm about to pull out my hair with the matter printers,” Tal said.

“I thought the delegate meetings were going well?”

“They are—to a point. Remember that producer I told you about, the one who replaced an original delegate and lied about it?”

“You mean the one you said was opinionated, outspoken, argumentative, and generally a thorn in your side?”

“Did I say all that?” Tal was a little embarrassed now, hearing such a description quoted back to her. Not that it wasn't true.

“Mm-hm. I had the impression of a woman twice as tall as you and four times as wide, red in the face from shouting, and her hair standing on end.”

Tal laughed. “Wrong, wrong, and wrong. But entertaining to be sure. Actually, she's quite attractive when she's not driving me insane. And extremely intelligent—she makes every other delegate in that meeting look as if they have the brains of a dokker. Half the time I want to throw her out, but I can't because she's the smartest person in the room…besides me.” She ignored Ekatya's knowing grin. “And hardworking, too. She's made it a policy to meet with her community of producers before and after every delegate meeting, so she can share what she learned in the State House. Then she records all of their questions and input and brings it back to our next meeting. It's been so useful that I asked the other delegates to do the same thing.”

“The other producer delegates?”

“No, all of them. In all the caste meetings.”

Ekatya whistled. “Bet they hate her now.”

“Probably, but she wouldn't care. At any rate, it's very effective. We're getting closer and closer to consensus, and last moon the warriors and the crafters said they were done. I think the builders will probably say the same next nineday.”

“So you have half the castes signed on? That sounds like good news to me. Why are you pulling out your hair?”

“Because the other half are digging in their heels, and out of all of them, the producers are the worst. And it's because of Delegate Opah!”

“The opinionated one?”

“Yes! The producers are still afraid of the matter printers. I think I could have talked them around by now, but that woman is obdurate. She's resistant to every line of logic.” Tal hesitated. “No, that's not fair. She does listen to logic. If I can make a good enough argument, she'll generally concede, but there are two or three obstacles I simply cannot talk my way around. I've tried and tried, for four moons now. I'm at my wits' end. And she's not just a delegate; she's also a major landholder in Blacksun Basin. Her opinion carries far too much weight in her caste. I don't think I'll ever convince them until I can convince her, and I just don't know how to do it.”

“Hm.” Ekatya looked thoughtful. “Well, if nothing you've tried has worked so far, then it's time to think outside the box.”

“I can tell this is one of those visual Gaian sayings, but I have no idea what it means.”

“It means, stop thinking like a Lancer asserting her power over a producer. Think outside your normal methods. If you were a Lead Guard again, having this discussion with a landholder, would you approach it a different way?”

“Yes, I'd throw up my hands and walk away.”

Ekatya snorted. “This from the woman who figured out how to breach a ground pounder's shielding.
That
was thinking outside the box. Nobody even considered that possibility, but you did.”

Tal paused. “You mean think about it tactically.”

“Well…yes, if that's what works. Since diplomacy is off the list and so is logical debate.”

“Hm.”

“I recognize that look,” Ekatya said. “Delegate Opah is probably in trouble now. When is your next meeting?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes. She's in trouble.”