drink. “Isn’t he, Martin? Must you really leave us in less than a week?”
Flandry shrugged. “Looks as if Distinguished Citizen Lagard hasn’t left
me much excuse to linger, alas.”
“Maybe we can find something. I mean, you can exercise judgment in your
mission, can’t you? They wouldn’t send a man like you out and keep a
leash on him.”
“We’ll see, Donna.” He gave a look of precisely gauged meaningfulness.
She returned it in kind. The wine had not affected her control in that
respect.
His inner excitement became half sardonicism, half a moderately
interested anticipation. She was attractive in a buxom fashion, to which
her low-cut shimmerlyn gown lent an emphasis that would have raised
brows at today’s Imperial court–the court she had never seen. Jewels
glinted in black hair piled about a round brown countenance. Vivacity
had increased in her throughout the meal, till her conversation sounded
less platitudinous than it was.
Flandry knew her as he knew her husband, from uncounted encounters: the
spouse of an official posted to a distant world of nonhumans.
Occasionally such a pair made a team. But oftener the member who did not
have the assignment was left to the dismal mercies of a tiny Imperial
community, the same homes, bodies, words, games, petty intrigues and
catfights for year after year. He or she might develop an interest in
the natives, get into adventures and fascinations, even contribute a
xenological study or a literary translation. Lady Susette lacked the
gift for that. Since she had had no children when she arrived, there
would be none for the rest of Lagard’s ten-year hitch. The immunizations
which let her walk freely outdoors on Diomedes were too deep-going for
her organism to accept an embryo, and it would be too dangerous to have
them reversed before she departed. What then was Susette Kalehua Lagard,
daughter of prosperous and socially prominent Terrans, to do while she
waited?
She could terminate the marriage. But a man who had gotten resident’s
rank was a fine catch. He could expect a subsequent commissionership on
a prime human-colonized planet like Hermes, where plenty of glamour was
available; in due course, he should become a functionary of some small
importance on Terra itself, and perhaps receive a minor patent of
nobility. She must feel this was worth her patience. Her eyes told
Flandry she did have a hobby.
“Well, if our time’s to be short, let’s make it sweet,” she said. “May
I–we call you Ahab? We’re Susette and Martin.”
“I’m honored.” Flandry raised his glass in salute. “And refreshed. Folk
on Terra have gotten stiffish these past few years, don’t y’ know.
Example set by his Majesty and the inner circle.”
“Indeed?” Lagard asked. “Nuances don’t reach us here. I’d have
thought–with due reverence–the present Emperor would be quite
informal.”
“Not in public,” Flandry said. “Career Navy man of Germanian background,
after all. I see us generally heading into a puritanical period.” Which,
if Desal is right, is not the end of decadence, but rather its next
stage. “Luckily, we’ve plenty of nooks and crannies for carrying on in
the grand old tradition. In fact, disapproval lends spice, what? I
remember a while ago–”
His risqué reminiscence had happened to somebody else and the event had
lacked several flourishes he supplied. He never let such nigglements
hinder a story. It fetched a sour smile from Lagard but laughter and a
blush down to the decolletage from Susette.
The staff, assistants, clerks, technical chiefs, Navy and marine
personnel, were harried but cooperative, except when Flandry heard:
“Sorry, sir. I’m not allowed to discuss that. If you want information,
please apply at Sector HQ. I’m sure they’ll oblige you there.”
Yes, they’ll oblige me with the same skeleton account that Terra got. I
could make a pest of myself, but I doubt if the secret files have ever
contained any mention of what Tm really after. I could check on the
whereabouts of Commander Maspes & Co., and make a long trip to find
them–no, him, for probably the team’s dispersed … ah, more probably
yet, the files will show orders cut for them similar to those in Captain
Whaling’s papers, and the men have vanished … maybe to bob up again