Chapter 7
After the warships had glided from orbit, starward bound, the effective ruler of the Patrician System was Lieutenant General Cesare Gatto, Imperial Marine Corps. The civil governor and bureaucrats carried their routines on as best they were able, but this had never amounted to much. Since Daedalus became sector headquarters, the Navy had taken over most functions, from planetary police to mediator between communities. Gatto reigned as Magnusson’s deputy, almost his viceroy.
It was thus somewhat of a surprise, as overworked as Gatto was, when he had the prisoner Diana Crowfeather brought to his office. Or perhaps not. A husband and father, he had never lost his taste for femininity. Besides, this was an unusual case, more so than he let on to his subordinates.
“Please be seated,” he said as the door closed behind her. She took a chair and regarded him across the desk. He was a small, well-knit man with a high forehead above a furrowed, hooknosed face and pale blue eyes. His uniform tunic had the collar open and was devoid of the many decorations he had earned. A cigarette smoldered between his fingers.
His look in return was appreciative, baggy though the coverall was that had been issued her. “I’m afraid this past pair of weeks has been wearisome for you,” he went on. “I hope the physical conditions, at least, were acceptable.”
“It wasn’t bad,” she answered. “Except for the questionin’ and, worse, the worry about my friends. Nobody would tell me a damn thing.” Her tone defied more than it complained.
“Separate interrogations are standard procedure, donna. Rest assured, the Wodenite has suffered no harm. I hear he’s spent most of his time screening books from the public database. Scholarly works and slushy novels.”
“But what about Targovi?”
“The Imhotepan—I wish I knew. He’s dropped from sight. Have you anything to add to your claim, and the Wodenite’s, that you two cannot tell why he fled? Has some new thought occurred to you?”
“No, sir.” Her chin jutted. “It might help if we had a better idea of why we were seized in the first place.”
Gatto stared at his cigarette, puffed, raised his glance to hers, and said: “Very well, I’ll be frank. You see, you and your companion have received clean bills of health. You yourself are known on Imhotep, of course, and a check by Security agents there verified the Wodenite’s story of being on a religious tour, eccentric but harmless. Nobody can imagine how either of you could be conspirators, nor did interrogation indicate it. At worst, you persist in trying to find excuses for the Tigery. You could both have been released earlier, if the urgencies of preparing for Emperor Olaf’s departure hadn’t caused everything else to be postponed.”
Diana bounced to her feet, radiant. “We can go? Terrific!”
“Sit back down,” he said. “We’re not quite done yet. Listen. I would probably never have known of your existence—I do have things to keep me busy—if it weren’t for the special circumstances. Captain Jerrold Ronan is our head of Naval Intelligence. He personally ordered that the datafile of this, ah, Targovi be flagged. Therefore, when Targovi came back to Daedalus, the order to hold him for investigation was automatic. Ordinarily Captain Ronan’s office would have disposed of the case as he saw fit. However, he has left with the Emperor, to handle similar duties during the campaign. Since the ‘hold’ order originated on such a high level, it was among those referred to me for review when I took charge here. Otherwise you’d doubtless have been released much sooner. As it was, nobody knew just what to do about you, and word took time to percolate up through channels, as frantic as the situation has been. I was struck by the report and decided to inquire further, personally. Something odd has been going on.”
Diana’s exuberance faded. “What? I’m as puzzled as you are. Oh, Targovi did drop hints about big game afoot, but nothin’ definite.”
“I know.”
She flushed angrily. A narcoquiz was an undignified procedure, though they had had the decency to detail a couple of women officers to carry it out on her. “Be glad you turned out to know no more,” Gatto said. “That would have called for a hypnoprobing, to extract everything. After all, we don’t have the drugs or the equipment to process a Wodenite.”