spends a fair amount of time here regardless.”
Niccolini sighed. He had never been more than a well-meaning fop; but in
these last years, when antisenescence and biosculp could no longer hold
wrinkles, baldness, feebleness at bay, he had developed a certain wry
perspective. Unfortunately, he remained a bore.
Shadows of petals stirred across a peacock robe as he lifted his drink.
“D’you think I should go to my ancestral estates and all that rubbish,
set up my own small court along lines I like, eh? No, m’boy, not
feasible. I’d get nothin’ but sycophants, who’d pluck me while they
smiled. My real friends, who put their hearts into enjoyin’ life, well,
they’re dead or fled or sleepin’ in an oldster’s bed.” He paused. ”
‘Sides, might’s well tell you, H.M. gave me t’understand–he makes
himself very clear, ha?–gave me t’understand, he’d prefer no Duke o’
Mars henceforth visit the planet ‘cept for a decent minimum o’ speeches
an’ dedications.”
Flandry nodded. That makes sense, flickered through him. The Martians
[nonhumans; colonists by treaty arrangement in the time of the
Commonwealth; glad to belong to it, but feeling betrayed when it broke
down and the Troubles came; dragooned into the Empire] are still
restless. Terra can best control them by removing the signs of Terran
control. I suspect, after poor tottery Tetty is gone, Hans will buy out
his heirs with a gimcrack title elsewhere and a lot of money and make a
Martian the next Duke–who may not even know he’s a puppet.
At least, that’s what I’d consider doing.
“But we’re in grave danger o’ seriousness,” Niccolini interrupted
himself. “Where’ve you been? Busy at what? Come, come, somethin’ amusin’
must’ve happened.”
“Oh, just knocking around with a friend.” Flandry didn’t care to get
specific. One reason why he had thus far declined promotion to admiral
was that then he’d be too conspicuous, too eagerly watched and sought
after, while he remained near the Emperor. He liked his privacy. As a
hanger-on who showed no further ambitions–and could therefore in time
be expected to lose his energetic patron’s goodwill–he drew scant
attention.
“Or knockin’ up a friend? Heh, heh, heh.” The Duke nudged him. “I know
your sort o’ friends. How was she?”
“In the first place, she was a he,” Flandry said. Until he could escape,
he might as well reconcile himself to humoring a man who had discovered
the secret of perpetual adolescence. “Of course, we explored. Found a
new place on Ganymede which might interest your Grace, the Empress Wu in
Celestial City.”
“No, no.” Niccolini waggled his head and free hand. “Didn’t y’know? I
never go anywhere near Jupiter. Never. Not since the La Reine Louise
disaster.”
Flandry cast his mind back. He couldn’t identify–Oh, yes. It had
happened five years ago, while he was out of the Solar System.
Undeterred by civil war, a luxury liner was approaching Callisto when
her screen field generators failed. The trapped radiation which seethes
around the giant planet, engulfing its inner moons, killed everybody
aboard; no treatment could restore a body burned by so much unfelt fire.
Nothing of the kind had happened for centuries of exploration and
colonization thereabouts. Magnetohydrodynamic shields and their backups
were supposed to be invulnerable to anything that wouldn’t destroy a
vehicle or a settlement anyway. Therefore, sabotage? The passenger list
had included several powerful people. A court of inquiry had handed down
the vaguest finding of “cumulative negligence.”
“My poor young nephew, that I inherited the Dukedom from, was among the
casualties,” Niccolini droned on. “That roused the jolly old instinct o’
self-preservation, I can tell you. To blinkin’ many hazards as is. Not
that I flatter myself I’m a political bull’s-eye. Still, one never
knows, does one? So tell me ’bout this place you found. If it sounds
intriguin’, I’ll see ’bout gettin’ a sensie.”
Flandry was saved by a courier in Imperial livery who entered the arbor
and bowed. “A thousand pardons, your Grace,” she said. “Sir Dominic,
there is an urgent message for you. Will you please follow me?”
“With twofold pleasure,” Flandry responded, for she was young and
well-formed. He couldn’t quite place her accent, though he guessed she