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nonviolent and recently soft-living politician out to save hundreds of
flinty-eyed, battlesuited combat vets. But the anonymous message from the
QC had been definite on the point, and what facts she had been able to
root out with her own discreet inquiries seemed to support it. LAW had
paid lip service to the recruited Exts, but the actual
preparations refurbishing
quarters and facilities, shiftings funds and equipment, transportation and
other resources hadn't gone anywhere.
Then there was the secret transferral of hecatomb from a police
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evidence depository, just as she had been told. None of
Dextra's sources had been able to provide hard evidence or verifiable
data on what was to be done with it.
To denounce LAW's termination scheme on the floor of the
Lyceum with no more proof than a blind message from the officially
proscribed QC underground would have been political suicide. The
Preservationists would have howled for a recall election, and some
Rationalists probably would have gone along with it rather than suffer
the blowback a fight would have entailed.
In the meantime, LAW might simply put the tethercraft massacre on
hold and expunge the Exts at a later date. What
Dextra had to do was get them alive to Abraxas, where she could build media
awareness of them. Public fancy would forestall
PolSec from any extreme wetwork for the time being.
The only method of ensuring that was to make use of Nike
Lightner's coterie both as a political shield and as a spotlight of public
attention. Nike had been thrilled to hear that Dextra was amenable to shooting
a revival of
And on the Way, We Dropped It and positively delighted with the idea of
staging it onboard a starship.
Tonii had argued against the plan, then had insisted on going along when
Dextra wouldn't be dissuaded. With the LOGCOM
officer hurrying off and the members of Nike's retinue trying to outdo one
another in their enthusiasm, the gynander now retreated into the
background. The tethercraft operation would soon be a matter of independent
public record. Dextra hoped that the exposure would be all the weapon
she needed, because it was about all she'd been able to come up with on
short notice.
"What a figmental place to stage the play!" Nike said suddenly, throwing an
arm around her. "I've never seen Lazlo-Lazlo so inspired!"
She indicated the fatigued-looking young guy in pseudo-Victorian dress.
"If that's inspiration, what's his boredom like," Dextra asked under her
breath, "cachesleep?"
"Fiction and drama are dead," Lazlo-Lazlo pronounced, stifling a yawn.
"The vicarious reality of electronic reportage and documentary has eclipsed
them. Still, this setting has an undeniable absurdist legitimacy."
Dextra patted Nike's arm. "Sweetie, I want you to meet
Emmett Orman, Allgrave of the Exts; his sister, urn, Ghost; and their
cousin, Major Lod." She studied the trio for a moment, then added, "Lady and
gentlemen, would you do me the honor of accompanying me and my
party down the well to Periapt?
Moving into a bay farther aft, I've got a passenger shuttle mat
should be able to accommodate the entire Ext contingent."
A few members of Nike's troupe complained that they hadn't
absorbed enough of
Damocles's aesthetic auras yet, but Dextra wasn't in the mood to linger
longer than necessary.
Lod tugged at the Allgrave's elbow. "Cousin, we thank the
Hierarch for her gracious invitation, don't we?"
"Uh, yes, of course," the Allgrave answered somewhat mechanically.
When General Delecado approached, Orman spoke briskly: "We're leaving
with Madame Haven, here, from lock number "
"Eight-sigma," Tonii supplied for Dextra.
"Send one runner forward to tell Zone," the Allgrave resumed, "and post a rear
guard here in case the runner doesn't connect."
He swung to Dextra. "Will that be all right, ma'am?"
"'Ma'am,' how debonair," she remarked casually, "But warn them that I'
11 be forced to leave them behind if they're not at the shuttle directly. You
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know how it is."
Nike gathered her little artbeat flock and headed off. Major
Lod proffered his arm, but Dextra pretended not to notice.
Orman gave a hand signal, and the Exts fell in along either
bulkhead.
Dextra heard him add a watchword for them to pass back.
"Zanshin."
* * * *
* * * *
* * * *
* * * *
As she led the way, Dextra steeled her nerve. It helped to have
Tonii there, a silent step behind her.
To her relief, the Exts hadn't balked, although Emmett Orman was wearing a
wary expression. They made their way aft with a kind of focused ease, a calm
attentiveness to the details around them.
The shuttle was in place, fueled and replenished to take planetside
a cargo of Concordance artifacts Commissioner
Renquald had sent home to his dynastic group, though the actual loading hadn't
commenced. The pilot and copilot were having a confab with some LOGCOM people
when Dextra, Nike's troupe, and the Exts arrived.
Dextra gave the two men no time to mull over their options.
"Flight crew aboard, please. I'm preempting payload space on a
Lyceum priority."
In her war correspondent days she had sneaked a wounded
Reformist a local who had acted as her interpreter past
Fundamentalist pogrom units to safety. Her heart hadn't whomped in her
throat in quite the same way until this moment.
The shuttle crew chief stalled, "But but we yanked the seating modules
for cargo space."
Dextra tugged at the integral fast-roping harness built into the
Allgrave's battlesuit. There were also carabiners and assorted short
lines and straps, neatly rolled and secured. "The deck couplings will
do nicely for tie-downs, Orman," she suggested. "If you're game, that is."
Orman shrugged. "Delta-V, Hierarch Haven. That way there'll be no squabbling
over aisle seats."
* * * *
* * * *
* * * *
* * * *
Burning's reflex was to stand fast until Dextra Haven told him what
was really happening, but his instinct was to get everyone off
Damocles by any means possible. Why, after all, should a
Hierarch display such nervousness aboard one of LAW's most powerful
spacecraft? Lod, too, seemed all in favor of abandoning ship, and he had a
sixth sense about which way to jump in the murk of guile and
counterguile. As for the rest, they were deep in
zanshin
.
One of the core disciplines of the Skills, "remaining mind"
was a concept borrowed from Old Earth's bujutsu fighting arts. It was the
state of unfailing alertness, constant preparedness to react or take
action, a primary tool for harnessing Flowstate to
Skills applications. A good Skillsfighter was in or near zanshin most of
the time, but it hadn't hurt to remind the Exts when they'd moved out.
Burning made a low back-and-forth hand signal to Wetbar, Zone's XO,
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