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The
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This
scene would have fallen somewhere between pages 147 (where Ceelie
died) and page 228, where Administrator Geltoi reacts with outrage
to the news that the Warleader is dead. I'm glad to have the opportunity
to emphasize that Ceelie never suspected that the enemy had actually
got the information out of him. I still owe Ceelie big time.
"Warleader
Darmon," the First Secretary read off the name from the flimsy with
pleased surprise. "On top of the order of battle for that Moltipat
rout, and as strong a set of statements of intent as a man could
ask for. Scant sixteen processed to date, and a pattern already
emerging, this is strong stuff."
He
knew very well how it made her feel to hear her enemy receive praise.
Mergau Noycannir sat and seethed, and stored up insult and injury
to add to the tally of her grievance against Andrej Koscuisko in
her mind.
"With
respect, First Secretary." Hinen Pilask didn't like her. He was
just as pleased to be here, to witness her discountenancing. And
she could do nothing. She could afford to make no gestures, voice
no threats. She had no power here at Chilleau Judiciary: because
Fleet had cheated her, and her Writ was not at-all the same as that
of Andrej Koscuisko.
"Hinen?" TOP
"You
can't pin a national threat on sixteen Records, First Secretary.
Not even with interrogatories like these. Let's not get too optimistic,
sir, you remember what Captain Vopalar had to say about his behavior?"
Secretary
Verlaine leaned back in his great chair, grinning broadly. But almost
with affection. "Do I. We were taking bets on whether Koscuisko
survived the transit without landing in Brig, except of course you
can't put a Writ in Brig unless you've really got the goods on him.
Yes, I remember."
"Chilleau
Judiciary doesn't need to prove the whole case on Koscuisko's results."
The Bench Specialist didn't excuse herself, did not ask for permission
before she spoke. Mergau had tried for Bench Specialist before,
when she'd first come to be a Clerk of Court. The evaluating authority
had scorned her. "All Chilleau Judiciary needs from the Domitt is
enough information to support a concerted plan of resistance to
Bench initiatives. That's evidence of intent to violate the rule
of Law. Koscuisko will produce. Is producing. Has produced."
"And
isn't Administrator Geltoi pleased with him," Verlaine added, in
apparent endorsement of Ivers' observation. "Though he seems to
credit himself for good management of the resource as the reason
we're doing so well. I have to admit I'm surprised at Koscuisko's
performance myself. And Warleader Darmon. That's impressive."
Had
he called her here just to humiliate her? The First Secretary had
open meeting for an eight every other morning; anyone could come.
She always came, for the pleasure it gave her to see her Patron,
and because she didn't dare stay away lest some criticism of her
behavior go unchallenged. He knew very well she was his most reliable
attendee. Had he held this news from the Domitt Prison for open
meeting to bait her in public with her deficiencies? TOP
"The
family's not all accounted for," Ivers noted, thoughtfully. "There's
the child yet. Only male child. Wife was dead already, daughters
accounted for one by one. Positive identification on that last body
came through from Intenin last week, First Secretary."
Warleader
Darmon had been an important enemy. But now he was a prisoner, Koscuisko's
prisoner, and he had such good secrets to yield up that Koscuisko
would only gain still more in favor in her Patron's eye. It wasn't
Koscuisko's skill that made the difference. It was the knowledge
his victims could be made to yield; that was the only difference
between them.
"May
yet happen Koscuisko finds the son for us," Hinen Pilask said softly,
as though afraid for it to be remarked upon and thrown up against
him later if the prediction did not come true. "Then we'd have the
whole family. Pacification would be easier without a Darmon out
there somewhere to carry the tune."
Why
should that be? That made no sense, to Mergau. What difference could
it make if the family of a failed leader survived? The leader had
failed, the people were brought to ruin. Wouldn't they reject any
claims from the warleader's child with the scorn and disgust such
a proven history of failure had earned the name?
"Hush,
Hinen." Verlaine's warning tone was playful and affectionate. He
did not take that tone of voice with her. Not any more. "You'll
prejudice the gods. We can only hope, but silently. Warleader Darmon
may not even know."
Mergau
had born the rest of it as best she could, but at this last she
was hard pressed to keep her seat and keep her peace. The assumption.
If Warleader Darmon knew Koscuisko would find out. Koscuisko was
a man, not a miracle. Had she not seen first-hand evidence of his
failures, in training? His inability to demand submission from Bonded
slaves. His hypocritical insistence upon observing the letter of
the Protocols, which fooled no one. TOP
"A
shame about that Joslire Curran, though," Ivers said thoughtfully;
Mergau pricked up her ears. Joslire Curran. Precisely the bond-involuntary
slave that Koscuisko had been so shamelessly lenient with.
Curran
had followed Koscuisko to Scylla, and she had come to understand
that other bond-involuntaries thought that to be a very great thing
for both Curran and Koscuisko. Mergau knew differently. Curran had
elected to go with Koscuisko to Scylla because he knew quite
well Koscuisko would not discipline his lapses.
Curran
had gone to Scylla because he'd known he could get away with
disrespectful and insubordinate behavior that would have earned
him six-and-sixty on a regular basis under any other officer.
Verlaine
had declined to express interest when she had tried to enlighten
him on that subject before. Mergau had her pride; if he would not
be instructed he would not, and it was not her place to lead him
to understanding. He'd been quite clear on that. The entire subject
still rankled with her, though, and it was galling to see her Patron
perk up and pay attention to the Bench Specialist when he could
not be bothered to listen to her.
"What's
that, Miss Ivers? Scylla's petition? Don't tell me he was
one of those Bonds."
The
Bench Specialist almost grinned. A joke. Unbending to joke with
the First Secretary in their presence, oh, they were privileged
then, Mergau told herself.
"All
right, I won't tell you. But it's the same team. Should make the
petition all the more palatable to Logistics, they're only to be
asked to take three Bonds off the inventory." TOP
Because
one of the four for whom Scylla was petitioning for revocation
of Bond had been Joslire Curran, and Joslire Curran was the bond-involuntary
who had claimed the Day and died on Koscuisko's way to the Domitt
Prison. They'd heard about the ambush. She hadn't cared to identify
the particular bond-involuntary. Now she wished she'd known earlier.
Joslire Curran. Dead in the street. She wondered if he had groveled
to Koscuisko for his Day, before he'd died.
"Mergau."
It
was the first time in a long time the First Secretary had addressed
her directly in meeting, when not responding to something she'd
said.
"Mergau,
that Curran, wasn't he the one they gave Koscuisko at Orientation?
Do you remember anything of that?"
The
first time in too long, and it was Koscuisko that Verlaine was interested
in, not her, not her at all. Mergau fought her rage down into the
cold pit of her stomach to wait for the day when she would be in
a position to use it against the man who was the cause of her ignominious,
despised and disregarded status.
"It
was Curran with him at Fleet Orientation." She kept her voice as
smooth and emotionless as she could manage. She did very well. She
had had practice. Ivers hardly even looked at her. "But which Curran,
I can't say, First Secretary. There were other Currans there, as
I remember."
Because
any bond-involuntary who had taken their Bond at the Curran Detention
Facility had the same last name. Obvious. And still her answer did
not satisfy; Verlaine looked to Ivers instead, and Mergau cursed
the Bench Specialist in her mind.
"An
Emandisan named Curran, wasn't it? That's where the remains were
going, someone brought me the courier requisition with Captain Vopalar's
report." TOP
As
though the ashes of one dead bond-involuntary slave were worth a
second thought from anybody, let alone the First Secretary. He liked
to at least receive complete copies of the Dramissoi reports, that
was true. But what a waste of time if he had actually bothered to
read them.
"The
very same, then." There was no use pretending that she didn't know.
"And Student Koscuisko so indulgent, of his faults. No wonder he
works so hard at Inquiry. He is trying to forget a dead lover."
No
one spoke.
The
First Secretary put down the flimsy he had been reviewing, laying
it carefully flat on his desk-top.
Well,
if that hadn't been the bond between Koscuisko and the Emandisan,
what had it been?
What
was anyone to make of a man who treated his slaves so leniently
but that they mastered him in bed at night?
"Well.
Miss Ivers. The Second Judge endorses the petition for revocation
of Bond, you may forward the information to the First Judge as you
like. Or let it go forward through channels."
They
would ignore her insight.
Ignore
the information that she had to share.
Ignore
the knowledge that she could impart.
And
all in favor of Andrej Koscuisko. TOP
"Under
the circumstances, First Secretary, it might not hurt for me to
forward it with the covering endorsement. Morale factors. Recognize
Scylla's sacrifices at the siege of Eild. Thank you."
She
could do as well as he, if she only ever got a Warleader Darmon
to answer to her Writ.
"Thank
you, Miss Ivers. Well. That's all the time we have. Meeting on funding
refugee efforts on Eild, if you'll excuse me."
If
you'll all leave. That was what he meant.
Mergau
went out of the room, with the others, but apart from them.
Her
life had new meaning, her goals blossoming into glory in her mind
moment by moment.
She
would have her rival to be under her.
She
would have him here, at Chilleau Judiciary, and she would take all
the time she needed to demonstrate to all these people why they
should not have set him over her in their minds.
It
didn't matter how long it would take her to do it.
She
would win.
And
the mere knowledge of that future triumph made her happy, for the
first time she could remember since she'd met Andrej Koscuisko. TOP
Andrej
Koscuisko walked in the roofgarden in the damp chill of the early
morning air, smoking a lefrol. It was cold and a little unpleasantly
damp outside: but his people were called upon to tolerate enough
from him already without being expected to eat their fastmeal and
smell lefrol smoke at the same time. Lefrols had never been of benefit
to his good Jorfie's appetite at all.
If
he climbed up on the bracing-blocks that lined the inside wall of
the roof-garden he could get a breeze in his face, and look out
over the world of the Domitt Prison. He knew what there was to see
toward the other side of the garden: the administrative building
below within the greater compound. The containment wall that ran
all around the Domitt Prison and administrative building alike at
a few eighth's remove.
And
on the other side of the containment wall—nothing.
Nothing
but fog, and a suspicion of port Rudistal, as though the containment
wall that marked out the Domitt Prison complex were the bulwark
of a great square raft that was at sea. Calm seas, not moving, but
no visibility either.
It
was much more interesting on the other side of the garden, because
from here he could look down into the deep courtyard in the prison's
interior space, and then across from there to where the gates would
open to permit the work-crews to pass. There wasn't so much fog
in the courtyard; the lights drove it off, Andrej supposed, and
the heat from the furnaces.
Even
so early as this the furnaces were on line, and he wondered what
fuel was so cheap as to permit the prison to use its furnaces day
in, day out. They were combustion furnaces, he remembered that from
his tour. Belan had told him so. Combustion furnaces could be very
efficient, if fuel was plentiful and renewable. TOP
Whatever
they were using seemed to be organic in origin and fairly moist
in substance, to judge from the color of the smoke. Moisture and
carbonization. There was a land reclamation project in the area,
Andrej had watched the work-crews marching out along the road towards
the place. Maybe they were burning off cleared trash-trees.
He
could hear footsteps behind hurrying up behind him, people coming
close. Code. Sounding worried. "Your Excellency, I almost lost you
in the fog, sir. Followed your smoke. Bench Lieutenant Plugrath
for an interview with the officer."
Code
probably missed Joslire more than anyone except Andrej. It was odd,
because Andrej hadn't even realized that they'd been close; perhaps
they hadn't been. He had been more worried about Code, in the days
following Joslire's death, than about any of the others. Code was
still deep in mourning, in his heart. But he had got past the danger
time. Andrej was afraid Code had pain for Joslire's loss, but no
longer worried that Code would grieve his governor into guilt-induced
overload.
"I'm
sorry, Code. I was not thinking about anything in particular." Leaning
one hand on Code's strong squared shoulder Andrej stepped down into
the garden from his vantage-point on the bracing-block. He probably
should not stand up on the bracing-blocks where his people could
see him. They might wonder whether he was going to dive. "The Bench
Lieutenant?"
Coming
up on Code's heels, in fact, out of the fog like an ill-tempered
wraith of sorts in a Bench uniform. Gray. "Good-greeting. Your Excellency.
Reporting per your direction. Sir."
Ill-tempered
indeed, and Andrej didn't blame him after the trick Andrej had played
those weeks past. He hadn't seen Lieutenant Plugrath since, nor
had he pressed the issue of the investigation—he had made his point,
after all. TOP
He
had been sure to specify a meeting time that would be clearly before
he could have begun his work, in order to provide a signal of some
sort that he didn't intend on repeating the stunt. He wanted Plugrath's
cooperation. There was something he wanted Plugrath to do for him,
quite apart from finding Joslire's murderers.
"And
I appreciate your responsiveness to my request, Lieutenant. Thank
you. Has there been progress in the port, to find the people who
ambushed our party?"
All
that mattered to him was that Joslire was dead, but Lieutenant Plugrath
had lost some Security assigned as well. Andrej had to remind himself
that he was not the only person with a stake in vengeance, even
if that of the Bench and Domitt Prison was somewhat less personal.
"Still
developing, sir. It's a complex issue. As you were told in the report
forwarded from First Officer yesterday."
Plugrath
let the observation sit out in the foggy air in front of them. Not
being too tiresome about the point. But not dulling it, either.
Andrej could have laughed, Plugrath was so angry at him. No. He
couldn't laugh. He needed Plugrath's help.
Taking
the Bench Lieutenant by the elbow Andrej walked with him down the
graveled garden path toward the dwarf fruit-trees that were espaliered
along the wind-brake at the outer wall on either side of the main
vista. "Very well. We will neither of us pretend that I asked to
see you to get report of that. Lieutenant, you have every reason
to disregard me, but what I need for you to do is to support the
rule of Law—in a way that neither of us should hesitate to do."
As
opposed to supporting the rule of Law by implementing the Protocols.
That went without saying. Plugrath disengaged his elbow from Andrej's
hold with polite firmness. "If the officer would care to explain." TOP
The
main vista at the front of the outer wall was low to prevent interfering
with the beautiful view from the front room of the penthouse. Andrej
could stand there and see over to the town without giving alarm
by stepping up too close to the security barrier. There was the
dark roof of the Administrative building, several eighth's distance
from the Domitt Prison. Only four levels. Peaked roof. The fog had
begun to break across the containment wall that rose three stories
high between the administration building and port Rudistal.
"Lieutenant
Plugrath. I am disturbed at some—what appear to be irregularities,
in the documentation of prisoners. Few of the prisoners referred
here have come to me in their own names, and one man the day before
yesterday had been presented for Inquiry under documentation that
could not be matched to the man himself."
It
didn't have to make a difference. If he hadn't chanced to know what
Lerriback looked like from his tour of the prison he might easily
have ignored what small discrepancies existed between the description
and the man it purported to describe. If he hadn't met Lerriback
earlier he might not even have caught on; but once the problem had
surfaced it would not go away. Maybe the prisoner had been Lerriback,
and the man Andrej had met earlier was not.
But
if so, why had the other man been also called Lerriback?
"I'm
sure his Excellency made the correct choice—" In remanding the prisoner.
Andrej was relieved to have the confirmation, howsoever indirect,
that the prisoner had been released.
He
shouldn't have to be concerned about it.
Something
was wrong. TOP
Plugrath
called back whatever it had been that he'd started to say, continuing
in a more respectful tone. "The population reconciliation should
provide some clues. These things happen, sir. The number of Nurail
that have gone through here in the past few months—"
"Are
how many?"
This
was the meat of it. Plugrath shut his mouth, looking confused, his
features just a little indistinct in the morning fog. The fog was
beginning to lighten; the sun was coming up. Taking a deep breath,
Andrej explained his problem to the Bench Lieutenant, hoping that
he'd given enough information to win Plugrath's cooperation.
"How
many Nurail have there really been? And how many are there now?
The holding cells have been full since I got here, Lieutenant. For
so many to be up on Charges indicates many, many more here for simple
confinement and release. How many has the Domitt released to Dramissoi?
There must be Nurail arriving day by day, how many of them are the
responsibility of the Domitt Prison?"
Documentation
systems failed when they were over-burdened. It was conceivable
that the same prisoner record had been assigned two men in error,
because some processing constraint had overlaid the record of one
man with that of another of the same name. Andrej couldn't help
but be bothered by it.
If
such over-ride errors were existing, then there was the chance that
prisoners he had tortured had not been subject to his Writ at the
degree to which he had wracked them. The possibility was almost
too horrible to be faced: he had confessions, and most of them had
guilt, but what if there was an error made, what then? TOP
If
the prisoner's brief said that a man named Harles had blown up a
convoy, and he had a man who confessed to being Harles, the prisoner
would know that he was accused of blowing up a convoy, and would
confess to it. And be guilty enough of other crimes that his knowledge
of guilt prevented Andrej from realizing that the substance of the
confession was fabricated.
Not
the spirit: he was proof against confession to much greater sins
than those actually committed, he was sure of it.
But
the substance.
If
the prisoner was accused of blowing up a convoy, and had blown up
a water-tower instead, what did it matter if Andrej made him confess
to the one and not the other?
It
mattered.
Prisoners
were referred on Charges, and subject to atrocious torment based
on the nature of the crime and its details.
To
tolerate torture of prisoners on false grounds was to invalidate
his Writ.
Plugrath
was frowning, as if in concentration. Rolling the skin of a small
red apple that he'd picked with the pads of both thumbs, burnishing
the fruit absent-mindedly. "The population reconciliation, sir?"
This
was the worst of it, but Plugrath seemed to be willing to listen.
"I can't find a population reconciliation, Lieutenant. I haven't
asked Geltoi, I am in bad odor here already, on multiple counts."
Nor did he intend on amusing the Lieutenant with the details. "I
don't want to force the issue and insult the Administrator by implication
when it may be that I just don't understand. I ask you for a receiving
and disposition report. There is an unusually high mortality rate
here. I wish to be assured that I can understand the movement of
souls in and out of the Domitt Prison." TOP
He
hadn't gotten the kitchen audit back; the Administration typically
had ten working days in which to respond to such routine requests.
The incident with Lerriback had unnerved him more deeply than he
quite understood, because there was no necessary reason to become
intensely worried about a single anomaly. It wasn't a single anomaly,
that was perhaps the problem right there. It was another anomaly.
He didn't like it.
"Receiving
and disposition. Well. Sir, Captain Vopalar is not likely to want
to spare resources for administrative tasks."
Plugrath
was not convinced, not impressed. Andrej had a right to call for
receiving-and-disposition reports. He hoped that asking for this
one quietly would improve his chances of getting it sometime soon
by demonstrating his sensitivity to the implications of his concern
about the information.
"Take
my request to the Captain. Please. Tell her, it is the substitution
of one prisoner for another named the same, and that I feel the
need to verify that few real errors can have occurred to date. If
you would present my concern for me, Lieutenant, with respect, and
with no wish to put either the Fleet or the Domitt Prison into a
bad light."
He
only wanted to know what was going on.
"The
officer is correct, of course. You have a right to review receiving
and dispositions, and if you can't find a population reconciliation
. . . We're supposed to run an independent receiving and dispositions
sooner or later anyway." Plugrath still sounded a little reserved,
a little reluctant. Andrej felt hopeful nonetheless. TOP
Plugrath
would take his request forward and be his advocate. Not because
Plugrath was kindly disposed toward him: only because it was the
right thing to do. "I'll speak to the Captain about it, sir. And
come back to let you know, it might be prudent to pass word in person.
I just hope I can get to you before. Or after."
The
Bench Lieutenant was intelligent, as well as a good staff officer.
He had caught Andrej's mind admirably well. Andrej could pledge
to behave, ungrudgingly. "I will take steps to ensure, Lieutenant,
if I know you are coming. I had better prepare to study my day's
work, now. Thank you for coming."
Surely
it would only be a few days before he could have a report that would
set his mind at rest. Even though he couldn't quite put his finger
on exactly what it was that bothered him.
"Very
good, sir. Good-greeting."
It
was hard enough to be here without the added burden of some unformed
nameless dread that lurked in the back of his mind, increasing day
by day.
The
sooner he dispelled it—or at least called it by some name, so that
he could know it for what it was—the better.
"'Multiple
and egregious instances of behavior betraying a regrettable lack
of delicacy and sensitivity to his place within the structure of
Judicial Inquiry.'" First Secretary Verlaine was reading to them
again, his voice light and his tone emphatically less than serious.
"'—Which would be in themselves unimportant if support for the Inquisitorial
function was being exercised at an acceptable level of skill and
professionalism.' Oh, my. He has annoyed somebody." TOP
Morning
open-meeting, and Verlaine was sharing the new items on his desk.
Hinen Pilask didn't have to look at Mergau Noycannir to know she
was conflicted within herself. The language the Domitt Prison's
Administrator was using was unquestionably strong; that would please
her. Verlaine was unquestionably not very upset: that would have
rather the opposite influence on her mood.
"Koscuisko
has been obstructionist in his behavior for the entire duration
of his career." No, Mergau didn't like Verlaine's reaction at all.
"We have heard from Vopalar. We have heard from the Doxtap Fleet,
suspicious death of prisoner prior to interrogation while a patient
under Koscuisko's care. Now he has willfully destroyed a significant
resource, and gained no useful information. He should be disciplined."
People
were free to speak their minds at Verlaine's open meetings; Mergau
generally did speak hers. All the same Hinen wondered if she wasn't
being maybe, possibly, just a little bit too forward. She almost
sounded as though she were making a demand: or as though she felt
she was in a position to, which was worse.
"That's
putting it a little strongly, I think." Verlaine's reply was mild
and measured, as it almost always was to Noycannir. Verlaine put
up with a lot from her. Hinen had never quite understood it; but
it wasn't any of his business. "'Willfully destroyed,' no, that
is a bit harsh. Anybody can make a mistake. Koscuisko's report says
a bad lot of whatever drug this is, I see no reason to doubt it.
What motive could he have?"
"Motive,
First Secretary, that one needs no motive but pure self-will. The
infirmary audit is there. It says nothing about bad drugs."
This
was news that rather surprised Hinen, and surprised the First Secretary
as well, it seemed. Verlaine raised an eyebrow, fingering the sheaf
of flimsies. "Indeed, Mergau? What else does it say? I haven't had
the chance to review it yet, myself. It was my understanding that
this material was only just arrived." TOP
Mergau
blushed. The Bench Specialist who sat at the back of the room was
watching, and exchanged a quick glance with the First Secretary.
There was a problem here. Had Noycannir just confessed to intercepting
secured transmissions?
"The
First Secretary is making a joke at my expense," Noycannir said
stiffly. "I can understand that. I meant that I'm sure you'll find
no evidence of adulteration of drugs when you read the infirmary
audit. It would be consistent with Koscuisko's behavior that it
should be so, because the excuse he used was just that. An excuse."
An
admirable attempt, but there was a Bench Specialist in the room,
and Ivers would see about it. Hinen was sure. So was Noycannir,
or he didn't know anything about her.
"I
don't think it's much of an issue either way, Mergau. Say what you
like about the man, Koscuisko has produced excellent testimony for
the Record in the past weeks."
Koscuisko
had received enough testimony by way of confession to serve as strong
argument in favor of the Second Judge's claims about a Nurail threat.
And that had been the idea from the start. It wasn't that Verlaine
didn't care at all that he wasn't to have evidence from a warleader.
It
was just that Darmon's testimony hadn't been crucial.
Or
Marne Cittrops' testimony, since according to the report the man
had died at the end of an augmented Seventh Level without confession
to any other name. In light of that fact the exact cause of death
was immaterial, really. Koscuisko couldn't lawfully have invoked
the Execution Levels without confession to at least the warleader's
identity; and he hadn't got one. TOP
Which
was as strong an argument as Hinen could imagine just at present
for the idea that there hadn't been a confession to get in the first
place. Andrej Koscuisko was not one of the more biddable Inquisitors
in the Inventory. But he was unquestionably among the very most
effective ones.
"That
Captain Irshah Parmin has petitioned for return of officer." Bench
Specialist Ivers' voice startled Hinen; he'd forgotten about her
being there. Ivers tended to disappear in a room. Some Bench Intelligence
Specialist skill, he supposed. "Translation of the Administrator's
report may amount to nothing more than Koscuisko being himself.
But if the better part of the job is done perhaps it would be prudent
to waive the balance of the assignment."
Verlaine
considered this in thoughtful silence; Hinen tried to guess the
elements of the analysis. Koscuisko had been doing productive work.
At the same time Koscuisko had required a kitchen audit and performed
an infirmary audit as well as soliciting a turnover reconciliation
from Vopalar's resources. Geltoi's complaint—and that was what it
amounted to—left one open to the impression that Koscuisko was just
creating trouble for the sheer obstructionary hell of it.
Performance
of a kitchen audit was within Koscuisko's Brief at the Domitt Prison,
though, and it wasn't unreasonable to want to do an infirmary audit
sooner rather than later. Turnover reconciliation could be just
part and parcel of Koscuisko being thorough about his responsibilities,
since Koscuisko was apparently a thorough man.
Or
it could mean a problem.
It
could even mean that Koscuisko himself was trying to bring a problem
to the attention of the authorities in an oblique fashion.
In
which case they needed Koscuisko out of there so that Chilleau Judiciary
could perform its own quiet discreet investigation. TOP
"Maintain
your professional bearing, now, Bench Specialist," Verlaine joked.
"Taking Koscuisko's part, I see. Very well. I see no impediment.
Send Koscuisko back to his ship, those Bonds will have to be returned
for status change anyway. I give."
Noycannir
had gone white in the face, Hinen noted with interest. She generally
tried to hide her feelings. She generally didn't do much of a good
job of it, where Andrej Koscuisko was concerned.
"The
First Secretary yields to manipulation to relieve this man, he is
clearly intent only on getting his way, and obtaining early release
from his duty at the Domitt Prison by making trouble—"
"Issue
Standard orders, my handseal, to Andrej Koscuisko at the Domitt
Prison. Return to Command of assignment, effective on receipt. Send
a message to Captain Vopalar while you're at it."
Verlaine
was talking to him, now. Hinen straightened up in his seat, nodding
in acceptance. "It'll be four, five days before orders can get to
Koscuisko, First Secretary." Hinen intended his remark to show he'd
understood, as well as to be sure he understood Verlaine's urgency
level. "Unless the First Secretary wants to pull on immediate dispatch."
Which
depended on Verlaine's assessment of the severity of the potential
problems stated or implied in Administrator Geltoi's complaint.
Report. Whatever.
Verlaine
pushed the stack of flimsies away from him, leaning back in his
chair. "No, standard recall is fine. No special handling, that might
play into Koscuisko's hands, as Noycannir has noted. Well. What
else have we got. Specialist Ivers. News on the proposal to issue
a Bench concern in Hipoli?"
Subject
closed, issued dealt with. TOP
For
a moment it seemed that Noycannir might get up and walk out of the
office before the hour was up, she was that angry, by the looks
of her.
Noycannir
restrained herself.
Walking
out on the First Secretary simply wasn't done.
"It
looks like a true Brief from the results of investigation, sir."
All
right, so he'd go issue a standard recall notice for Andrej Koscuisko
to return to Scylla. Captain Irshah Parmin would be pleased.
Captain Vopalar would probably be annoyed at having to provide convoy.
And Geltoi would be gratified.
Mergau
Noycannir was already beside herself with pique, but she was the
First Secretary's problem.
For
that fact Hinen was profoundly grateful. TOP
I
call this next section "I Know Something You Don't Know" and is
available here for the first time
Please
remember in this section that Andrej Koscuisko will not be transferred
to the Ragnarok for several months following the action
of the novel, and that the Ragnarok's Inquisitor is someone
else entirely in this context.
The
action of these scenes take place as Mergau Noycannir, unaware
of the changes at Port Rudistal in response to Andrej Koscuisko's
declared Failure of Writ, travels to Rudistal to take control
of the prize for which she salivates: the Domitt Prison
I
hope you like it!
Garol
Vogel hopped down off the tail-gate of the cargo-mover before it
had quite come to a complete stop, and trotted across the tarmac
to where Jils Ivers waited beside the courier ship.
"She's
in a hurry, I see," Garol said. He had the documents that Jils was
waiting for, orders for return to ship of assignment for Andrej
Koscuisko at the Domitt Prison, interim assignment of Mergau Noycannir
pending location of additional resources. "Not looking forward to
this or anything, is she?"
"She"
was Mergau Noycannir herself, already on board the courier to judge
by Jils' quick grimacing glance over her shoulder. Noycannir was
a Clerk of Court still, for all her anomalous possession of a Writ
to Inquire. She held the Writ, but she could not deploy it. If Garol
hadn't forcibly intervened, all of those Langsariks would be dead,
died under torture, lives as well as information wasted.
"Impatient
to move swiftly in order to forestall any potential reproach against
Chilleau Judiciary. Commendable, really, Garol. Though I can't think
she'll be much company during transit. She bullies the crew. I'll
have to drink with them to make it up."
Well,
that was only fair. And had nothing to do with the fact that Jils
had been bored for the past two weeks at Chilleau Judiciary, and
found the navigator attractive.
"I
wish you joy of it, then, Jils. And here's the orders. We'll get
someone else out just as soon as we can, see if you can't leash
the bitch till then." TOP
The
words came out a little more strongly than Garol had realized before
he'd spoken them. Jils gave him the cool and appraising eye he knew
so well from countless conflicts past.
"Not
angry about anything, Garol," Jils said, calmly. "It's an uncertain
art. That's what makes Koscuisko so unusual. We need ranks and ranks
of him, but you know better than that. Don't you."
Less
competent Inquisitors than Andrej Koscuisko there were in Fleet
in plenty. That was so.
But
there had been seven Langsarik prisoners, one of them still under
twenty, none of them willing to compromise their fellows, all of
them clearly determined to face the ultimate test rather than betray
their Fleet. Maybe he'd done them more good than harm by letting
Noycannir murder half of them. Noycannir's victims had died with
their secrets intact, after all, when the Ragnarok's Inquisitor
had broken the remainder, and sent them to their deaths with the
full knowledge of their failing in their minds.
It
wasn't a failing. There was no shame in failing under torture. The
myth of the will that could transcend agony was just that, a myth,
when measured against the horrors of the Protocols. Noycannir was
the best torturer a prisoner could hope for, in that light, someone
so full of rage and of resentment that it was easy to provoke her
into the kind of error that had given the dead Langsariks their
final freedom while their information was still uncompromised.
"Yeah,
well, the other guy did better but it did us as little good, so
what do I care, really? I guess." The other Inquisitor had gained
confession, but the actual information had been too old by then
to do them any good. The Langsarik fleet had long since changed
its route before that had happened. "Just keep your eye on her.
Her primer's been compromised. I don't trust her detonation sequence."
"Okay.
Right. Still angry." TOP
He
didn't fool Jils for a moment.
He
liked that in her. She was the closest thing to being a real friend
that Garol had, unless the childhood friends he hadn't seen in years
could still be said to qualify. And they didn't even know he was
a Bench intelligence specialist. If they did they might well decide
to disremember the acquaintanceship.
"Get
on with you." Noycannir would be getting twitchy. "Have a good time.
Don't wear out the navigator."
Jils
tipped the documents-case Garol had brought to her forehead by way
of a salute. "He'll have recovery time at Rudistal. Let me know
if anything comes up."
He
watched her load the courier, and as the passenger access closed
and sealed behind her Garol walked away.
He
hoped that whatever was wrong at Rudistal was fixable.
With
Mergau Noycannir involved things were all too capable of getting
worse.
Mergau
Noycannir stood in the wheelhouse of the courier ship watching the
forward screens over the shoulders of navigator and propulsion officer,
eagerly awaiting the pulse that would signal that they'd cleared
the vector and made Rudistal space. TOP
The
journey had been both long and wearying; four days cramped into
this small courier with a Bench intelligence specialist in her way
at every step, challenging her orders, interfering with the crew.
Playing card-games with the navigator when he could have been studying
how best to optimize the transit, and what difference could it make
if he was on his rest-shift? What was there of any possible value
to do here but focus on the goal, Noycannir's objective?
The
honor of Chilleau Judiciary, of the Second Judge herself, was potentially
at stake.
And
Noycannir was to be her champion.
Ivers
declined to transfer custody of Koscuisko's marching orders, fine,
that was all well and good. Once the orders were but passed Mergau
could tell even a Bench intelligence specialist where she should
go and what she should do when she got there.
There
would be time to call for an accounting, and Mergau was content
to wait.
For
now.
But
not for very much longer.
"Are
you sure you don't want to call for clearance?" Ivers asked from
her post at Mergau's side, her voice dry. Aloof. Measuring. "There's
no telling what might have changed at Rudistal since we made the
vector." TOP
Not
a chance, Mergau promised herself, grimly. Ivers would love that,
wouldn't she? Nothing could be allowed to keep Noycannir from Rudistal.
Ivers had orders for Andrej Koscuisko. Once Mergau held the keys
to the Domitt Prison she didn't care what changed at Rudistal, nor
at Chilleau Judiciary either.
"Maximum
power, priority override," Mergau told the navigator, ignoring Ivers.
"We need to make good time. There could be a cover-up. We need the
advantage of surprise."
The
navigator was obliged to obey Mergau's orders; she was the payload
of this courier. It should have been the First Secretary's own shuttle,
rather than just one among a dozen packet ships; an Inquisitor should
only travel on a hull that reflected her true rank -- so Mergau
had made up her mind that Verlaine's release of this craft rather
than another was a part of his concern for security. No one would
be expecting a Writ on such a mousy little courier. The shock would
be so much the more effective.
"On
your instruction." The navigator acknowledged orders in a clear
emotionless voice. All to the good. Mergau waited, listening, daring
Ivers in her mind to raise objections; Ivers could in theory take
command of the ship -- but Ivers kept shut.
So
Ivers knew quite well that she was in the wrong.
"Estimated
arrival time?" Ivers asked the propulsion officer. The propulsion
officer checked her status board.
"At
the rate we're going we'll make planetary orbit in under six, Bench
specialist. And we're going to need maintenance by the time we do,
so maybe it's just as well if we hurried."
As
a subtle criticism it was not so very subtle.
But
Mergau had long grown accustomed to the unwary and incautious things
that people said when they mistakenly believed that they were in
no danger of suffering for doing so. TOP
"I'll
go get my documents-case in order. To be ready."
Ivers
left the wheelhouse.
It
wouldn't take as long to get her documents in order, surely.
What
did Ivers have in mind?
Drafting
a report for the First Secretary, perhaps?
Mergau
smiled.
Let
Ivers do her worst.
Mergau
would be mistress of the Domitt Prison.
Not
even the First Secretary himself could keep her from her triumph
over Koscuisko at last.
Standing
on the landing field at Rudistal, all too keenly aware of Ivers
at her side, Mergau scanned the busy traffic on the field for her
executive transport, restlessly.
There
had been no one here to meet them, not even though Mergau had sent
her message out in good time, not even when she'd made certain to
explain exactly who she was and how urgent her mission. And what
she had with her. TOP
And
yet no one was here to meet her on the field, no greeting-party
from the Port or from the prison; no one even seemed to take an
interest in her arrival save for one modest little vehicle coming
trundling across the field with a tow-track in its wake.
Impossible.
That
couldn't be meant for her, not that dull ordinary administrative
car, not when the Domitt Prison had Geltoi's touring car at its
disposal. She knew there was a touring car, armored, upholstered,
luxurious, expensive. She'd made it her business to collect all
of the details after the car that had been carrying Koscuisko to
the Domitt Prison had been destroyed in ambush, because if Koscuisko
hadn't been ambushed Geltoi wouldn't have been able to justify the
upgrades to the vehicle he'd been provided, so it was all Koscuisko's
fault after all.
The
administrative car slowed to a careful stop in front of the courier,
and a young officer climbed out of the passenger compartment awkwardly.
It wasn't as easy as a person might like to get into and out of
some of the smaller transports. It was a defect of engineering.
The
officer approached and halted in front of Ivers, not Mergau, to
give her a respectful bow in salute. "Bench specialist?" the young
officer asked. "Goslin Plugrath, ma'am. Administrator's respects,
and I'm to escort you to offices. -- Dame."
Plugrath
clearly had no idea whatever of who Mergau was; his "Dame" was facile
surface politeness, and nothing more. And he was taking them to
the Administrator's office?
This
was going to be sweet. TOP
"The
tow's for the courier?" Ivers asked. "Good call, thanks. Anything
the crew needs, authorize it to my report, all right?"
The
crew could wait.
The
ship could wait.
Neither
ship nor crew was going anywhere until Mergau herself should direct
it, now that she was here. She held the Writ to Inquire at Port
Rudistal. She was the senior Judicial officer on site, Bench specialist
or no Bench specialist; and that meant that she was the supreme
being.
"Let's
go, Plugrath," Mergau suggested, starting for the courier. "It'll
wait. We have important business to accomplish."
Yet
Plugrath lagged behind, to signal to the tow-track, pausing before
he joined Mergau at the courier to speak to the crew commander.
No idea. Mergau could not help but smile at his ignorance, and how
he was going to feel when he found out that he'd been disregarding
a senior Judicial officer as though she'd been some Bench specialist's
adjutant.
"Drive
on."
Mergau
sat in her cramped seat in the little car and composed herself carefully
for the triumph to come.
Would
Koscuisko be there?
Would
he be summoned into her presence to hear that he had no more authority
in Port Rudistal? TOP
It
couldn't come soon enough.
She
had been waiting for so long for something like this.
The
Domitt Prison's administrative offices were in port Rudistal, it
seemed, and not at the Prison itself. That was a little unusual,
because Mergau knew that there was a very expensive administration
building at the prison. Mergau pondered the potential implications
as the transport car drew up before the entrance to the building
that housed the administrative headquarters. There was the touring
car, right enough, sitting in the roadway dead in front of the formal
entry to the building. So maybe they hadn't sent it because they'd
just fetched Administrator Geltoi. That could be. It was annoying
to have to pull up to one of the less central entrances, but soon
enough those tall glass doors, that wide sweep of white stone steps,
the touring car itself would all be hers.
Well,
Geltoi's still, perhaps.
But
she would have a chat with Geltoi right away, and set him straight
on how precarious his position here would be without her help.
The
halls were bustling with people, much more busy than she would have
expected things to be; and there were many more troops on site as
well, people from the Dramissoi Relocation Fleet by the shipmarks
they wore. Plugrath led them through the corridors in silence, and
the crowds started to thin out as they traveled ever more deeply
toward the center of power.
Prison
Administration. TOP
One
final door, and here they were, inside the senior management complex
itself. There were troops here as well, though not Dramissoi Fleet
resources; Mergau knew where to find authority -- behind whichever
door was deepest within the administrative cluster, whichever door
was closed and closely guarded -- and, brushing free from the annoyance
of Plugrath's presence beside her, Mergau made directly for her
goal.
She'd
wasted so much time already.
She
was anxious to be instated, and start work.
As
Mergau neared the closed door to the prison administrator's office
the two uniformed Fleet security posted to either side stepped in
to her line of approach, to block her progress.
Bond-involuntaries.
Scylla's
shipmark?
What
were Andrej Koscuisko's slaves doing here?
Borrowed,
perhaps, for whatever reason out on loan.
Or
Koscuisko was there. Within. Right where she wanted him.
"Step
aside and let me pass!" Mergau snapped. She made no efforts to disguise
her contempt for slaves. "We have vital information for Administrator
Geltoi. From Chilleau Judiciary direct."
The
troops didn't move. TOP
"Respectfully
decline," the senior of the two slaves said, the one on the left.
"On the basis of lawful and received instruction. His Excellency
not to be disturbed. He's reviewing yesterday's interrogatories."
His
Excellency, the man said. Geltoi wasn't an Excellency. So Koscuisko
was there. She could hardly have planned it better.
"All
the more reason the Administrator needs to see me immediately,"
Mergau said coldly. "I'll be reviewing interrogatories from now
on. Stand aside, I say. Or suffer the consequences."
Was
that actually a moment of indecision?
Did
some mere bond-involuntary dare offer her disobedience?
The
Security troop seemed to be looking at someone behind Mergau, but
Mergau was too angry to care who that might be.
And
after a moment they both stepped aside.
It
was Plugrath, behind her; that was who the Security troop had been
watching, taking his cue from Plugrath. Plugrath came up now to
brush past Mergau where she stood proud and imperious, waiting;
and opened the door.
"Bench
intelligence specialist to see his Excellency," Plugrath said. "Sorry
to intrude, sir, most insistent." TOP
Bench
intelligence specialist, Mergau repeated to herself in silent
fury. Bench intelligence specialist. Just let them wait.
Just let them wait till Ivers had transmitted her orders: and there
would be such an adjustment of priorities around Port Rudistal --
There
were three people in the Administrator's office.
And
one of them was Andrej Ulexeievitch Koscuisko.
Koscuisko
looked up as Plugrath opened the door, holding it open for Mergau
to come in. Koscuisko looked surprised; and for one timeless moment
of transcendent humiliation Mergau realized that Koscuisko did not
so much as even recognize her.
"Yes,
Lieutenant," Koscuisko said. He was the one at the far end of the
room, behind the desk; the other two sat to either side in front
of it. "Holy Mother. Mergau Noycannir. How long has it been? --
From Chilleau Judiciary. Ah."
Mergau
strode proudly into the center of the room, and lifted her chin
with defiant challenge. "That's right, Koscuisko," she sneered.
"Chilleau Judiciary. You have some explaining to do, I think. Bench
specialist?"
It
was the moment.
Ivers
stepped up beside Noycannir . . . yet she kept well clear. And she
was on Noycannir's right. Ivers presumed too much on her indeterminate
rank; but Mergau could forgive all, just at this moment. TOP
"Your
Excellency," Ivers said. "First Secretary Verlaine has agreed to
return you to your Command, at Fleet Captain Irshah Parmin's very
urgently expressed desire. Here I have orders relieving you of your
responsibility for the Domitt Prison, Dame Mergau Noycannir to assume
the functional position in your place."
It
was so sweet, those first clouds of panic and uncertainty in Koscuisko's
face. His voice held no faint hint of dread or anxiety, however,
and Mergau could freely grant him full credit for nerve. "On whose
authority, Bench specialist, may I ask?"
Specialist
Ivers bowed politely. "On direction of the Second Judge Presiding
at Chilleau Judiciary, your Excellency. With respect."
Ivers
was being a damned sight more polite to Koscuisko than Mergau had
ever heard her be with anybody short of the First Secretary himself
--
Koscuisko
smiled, but gravely, as if a man with embarrassing news who did
not wish to give offense. "Has it been a long transit, then, Bench
specialist?"
What
difference could that make?
"We
came direct from Chilleau Judiciary, sir. There was no particular
reason to make contact to check back. Was there?"
Ivers'
question was completely bland, utterly neutral.
And
yet something in Mergau's gut knotted quite suddenly into a hard
cold core of acid fear.
Something
had happened. TOP
Ivers
knew it. Or Ivers had guessed.
Ivers
was feeding Koscuisko his lines.
"There
will be no need for Dame Noycannir's support." Koscuisko seemed
to be agreeing; yet surely he was just trying to wriggle out of
the trap into which he had so cunningly inserted himself. "Failure
of Writ has been declared at the Domitt Prison, Bench specialist,
on my authority, and we await the arrival of an audit party from
Fontailloe."
On
his authority, Koscuisko said.
Once
Ivers but presented her documents Koscuisko would have no authority.
What
was this nonsense about Fontailloe?
The
First Judge Presiding sat at Fontailloe. The First Judge herself.
The Second Judge and the Third Judge, the Fourth Judge and the Fifth
Judge, the Sixth and the Seventh and the Eighth Judges were all
equal in authority with one another, but the First Judge presided
over all, and of the First Judge alone could it most truly be said
that under Jurisdiction her word was Law.
It
was the only possible dodge available to Koscuisko.
Still
Mergau was surprised that he had tried it.
"Oh,
I am disgusted at your cowardice!" Mergau hissed savagely. "Ivers.
Give him the documents. We will have an end to this insolent wretch's
impertinence once and for all." TOP
But
Ivers, damn her eyes to black and everlasting torment, played along.
"If
the First Judge has issued her own instructions, orders out of Chilleau
Judiciary are no longer in effect," Ivers said. "With your permission,
your Excellency. May we confirm this status change, to be sure that
we know what we are doing."
Koscuisko
had risen to his feet as Ivers came in, granting respect to Ivers'
status that he would never have willingly accorded to Mergau herself.
No matter how high she might climb. Koscuisko might well have failed
to recognize her, surprised by her unexpected appearance at Port
Rudistal; but there could be no question of it now.
Koscuisko
despised her. As she did him.
"I
can confirm on the behalf of Dramissoi," one of the officers said.
"The transmit is available for your review, of course, Bench specialist.
But I heard her myself. Voice transmit, no less. Andrej Koscuisko
is the Port Authority at Rudistal, and as such duly recognized by
the Dramissoi Relocation Fleet. Which I command."
Koscuisko
bowed his head in the officer's direction. "Thank you, Bench Captain.
Lieutenant Plugrath. If you would the Bench specialist escort to
Judicial Procedures, to review the receipt of instruction from Fontailloe."
As
if it even mattered any more. TOP
If
the Dramissoi Relocation Fleet had elected to recognize Koscuisko
as its master, no orders carried by Bench specialists would sway
them. That was what the officer had just told them. We spit on
Chilleau Judiciary and its Judge. We take orders only from Fontailloe.
If you don't like it cry to the First Judge. And in the mean time
go away.
"Perhaps
you'd better come with me, Noycannir," Ivers suggested, quietly,
turning to follow Plugrath out of the room.
You
will pay for this, Andrej Koscuisko, I promise you to your face
that I will make you pay, more dearly than you can even imagine.
Mergau
stood stock-still in her place for one long moment, staring at Koscuisko
where he sat, fixing his hated image in her mind. He did not even
have the grace to avoid her eyes, but gazed back at her candidly,
with no hint of the gloating that she knew was in his heart showing
in his face.
Laugh
while you can. You will weep soon enough.
Mergau
spun on her heel and left the room, her back as straight as rage
and pride could make it, her heart overflowing with her hatred.
On
that day when there will be a reckoning, you'll answer to me for
what you've done here now. TOP
—
End —
|
