Fortunes of the Imperium (15 page)

CHAPTER 13

If some interaction was good, more was better, to my way of thinking. At the next meal, the male Wichu had been replaced by Gillian, a lanky human female with long brown hair and pale freckles, and one of the male humans by Franklin Allen, an ensign with broad shoulders and a pleasant, open countenance. To my delight, they were also assigned to the immense hydroponics area, along with Redius, Oskelev and another human named Douglas.

That which lay between the walls of growing was the realm of Commander Diesen. This formidable-looking human woman, with wire-sinewed limbs and short-clipped white hair, had frosty blue eyes that peered out from under straight white brows. She looked like the very spirit of winter, in the midst of a wilderness of green. The sound of nutrient liquid pumping through pipes, tubes and straws all around us created a percussive and authoritative undertone to her pronouncements. I thought of recreating the effect in a lucky circuit, though I was not sure who would benefit from such a thing.

“And you, Kinago,” Commander Diesen said, turning to me once she had set three of our companions to cleaning the tank beneath a broad table. “When they’re finished reassembling this growing station, you will take these seedlings and place them one by one into an open pipette. Can you do that without killing every single one of them?”

She pushed toward me a broad flat of tiny plants. A narrow stem supported a fuzzy leaf the size of my thumbnail.

“Squash,” I said, with interest. “What variety are they, commander?”

Her white brows went up.

“You can tell what they are at this stage?” she asked. “I’m surprised.”

“I grow several varieties at home. Not squash per se, but I served a brief apprenticeship under the head gardener to learn how to care for small plants. Cucurbits are more sturdy than most other young plants, so he felt I would destroy the fewest of these while I was learning.”

“Had your number, huh, Kinago?” Allen laughed.

“In several decimal points,” I agreed.

“They’re butternut squash,” the commander said. “A favorite of the captain, so I like to make sure there are enough for special dishes.”

I noted the information. One never knew when such a fact would come in handy.

Diesen stood over my shoulder as I transferred seedlings from their propagation pods into the refreshed table. The framework was sturdy enough to support the fruits once they began to erupt along the leafy vines which were also yet to come. Nutrient fluids circulated just below the surface. I took care to ensure that the tiny roots with their spiky hairs were immersed in the liquid. Once the roots got a taste of the plant food, they would grow eagerly until they rested on the bottom of the tank.

She moved me on to herbs: dill and chervil. I realized it was a test, and took the greatest care with these most fragile of plants. I slid each minute slip of greenery into its own tube, where the fluid of life would barely tickle its roots.

“Not bad, Kinago,” Diesen said, in her terse manner. I beamed, knowing it for true praise.

“I grow several varieties of herb at home,” I said. “A few are too delicate for anything but a hydroponic bed.”

“What, a noble growing his own food?” the female Wichu asked, popping her round black eyes mockingly.

“Not for food,” I said. “The gardeners would be appalled if they felt I was reduced to supplying my table by my own efforts. No, I am intrigued by the properties of some plants, most of them ancient, many almost legendary. Fenugreek, hyssop, grains of paradise, love-in-a-mist, and a number of others.”

Diesen’s severe face softened a trifle.

“You have access to rare species?” she asked. I realized I was in the presence of a fellow enthusiast, if not one in my own field.

“Indeed I do,” I said. “I have promised half the seeds that come from my plants back to the Core Worlds Preservatory . . . .” I saw the avid light in her eyes. “If there are any in which you have an interest, I would be happy to share my bounty. Of those I am successful in growing, allow me to add. I am not an expert herbalist yet.”

She recoiled, as though stung by my words.

“
Herbalist?
” she echoed, scorn coloring her voice. “Don’t you dare tell me you are trying to recapture ancient hallucinogens! I’ve heard your class dabbles in anything that will give you a momentary thrill.”

“No, ma’am,” I protested. “I could only interest my relatives in what I am doing if I were to take up viticulture. Wines and spirits are our customary indulgence. Anything that will cause damage to the imperial gene pool is frowned upon.”

She was unmoved.

“Huh! I’m surprised to hear that there’s something you people
won’t
ingest,” she said. She pointed to another table with a couple of flats balanced upon it, awaiting transplant. “That’s your next task. Try not to destroy everything in the garden before you leave.”

She stalked into a tomato-laden archway and vanished among the trailing vines. I made a quick note on my viewpad to send her some seeds from my plants upon my return. She wouldn’t ask again, but I knew in my heart that she craved the rarities I had named.

“She must be an Alchemist,” I said.

“What does that mean?” Allen asked.

“Her astrological sign,” the tall woman said, looking at me with new interest.

“Meticulous, not necessarily good with people, but hard-working and practical,” I said. “She has the look of it, with her narrow bones and prominent teeth.”

“I’m an Alchemist,” said Gillian. “I never thought that Diesen and I looked alike.”

“It’s a superficial resemblance,” I said. I studied her dentition. It did fall within the general guidelines, being a trifle more pronounced than, say, Allen’s. His teeth were short and regular, but his bulky shoulders and protective nature pronounced him a Guardian. I would have laid a substantial wager upon it. “Notable characteristics, more of a family resemblance than striking similarity.”

“Huh,” Oskelev said. “You all look alike to me.” Her white-furred face pulled a playful grimace. Veltov laughed.

“Well, you are a Butterfly,” I said. “So you would not be paying attention to that which matters to other signs.”

“Hah!” She went back to scrubbing.

“What about me?” asked Douglas. I peered at him. He regarded me almost sideways. He had sensitive features in a round face, but his hands looked surprisingly strong.

“I would wager . . . Cat,” I said.

His brows flew up. “You’re good. What about you?”

“Wolf,” I said. “To the great amusement of my cousins.”

“So you like astrology?” asked Allen.

“It’s only one of the superstitions I study,” I said.

“How many are there?” he asked.

“At least one per person, has been my experience,” I said. “Everybody seems to have an unbreakable belief that has no bearing in reality. It doesn’t stop us from following it.”

“I don’t do anything like that,” said Allen.

“Spoken like a true Guardian,” I said, and had the satisfaction of seeing his mouth fall open in astonishment.

“You must have looked up my birth date on the Infogrid.”

I raised a hand and put the other upon my heart.

“I swear by my honor, I did not,” I said. “You may check. The only listings I examined were your musical preferences. They are rather like mine, by the way. You will find our playlists have numerous entries in common.”

“That’s scary!” Gillian said, with a delighted shiver. “Tell us more! My girlfriend Corlota is a Penguin.”

“Then you two are compatible,” I said. “At least by your main star sign. I would have to compare your charts.”

She brought forth her viewpad with the speed of lightning. “I’m sending you both our birthdays,” she said. “I am dying to hear your interpretation!”

“Why not?” I said, happy to find others interested in my studies. “But let it wait until our next rest shift. I do not want to enrage our supervisor by neglecting our duties.” I picked up the next seedling.

“Work too hard,” said the Uctu, his mouth gaping in a smile.

“Not if I can help it,” Oskelev said. She moved on to the next empty tank.

“And what is
this
one, dear captain?”

Though the ceilings in the garden were high, my cousin’s voice echoed easily off them. I heard her friends whispering and chatting as well. We fell silent to listen.

“Er, well,” the captain’s voice said, rather uncertainly, “it says ‘tarragon.’ It’s served with chicken and a lot of vegetables, I think.”

So she had talked him into giving her a tour of the hydroponics section, I mused. I shook my head. Poor Captain Naftil. He had no idea of the forces that had been let loose.

“Cousin conquest,” Redius murmured, with an amused bark.

“I know,” I said, assuming an expression of extreme woe. I went on with my tasks until the group of them broke cover from the aisle to my left.

Jil had on an outfit of gold tissue that seemed to be transparent, though it most assuredly was not, yet it clung to every curve. Her hair, billowing, wavy tresses interspersed with a tiny braid here and there, had been dressed with glittering green and blue jewels in the shapes of birds and butterflies. Behind her, the other ladies were similarly clad, though with fewer precious adornments. The temperate climate of the ship permitted the wearing of lightweight garments. These were not only light, but cut so as to provide the maximum of distraction. All of my human companions stared as the ladies approached. “Don’t give them the satisfaction,” I added, unable to keep the peevish note out of my voice. “They do it on purpose.”

“They’re . . . fabulous,” Gillian said.

“I know. Annoying, isn’t it?”

I stopped what I was doing to offer the captain a polite salute.

“Welcome, captain,” I said.

He returned it without glancing back at me.

“As you were, spacer,” he said.

It took all of my self-control not to let my mouth drop open. Spacer!

Jil saw the interchange. Her eyes rounded with wicked merriment. Never one to avoid taking advantage, she seized one of the tiny plants I was tending right out of my fingers.

“And what is this one? I am sure it will grow into something most delicious!”

“Er, well . . .” The captain’s handsome face screwed up into a boyish expression of confusion.

“Rokufian parsley,” I supplied.

“That’s it,” Captain Naftil said, without looking at me. “Thank you, spacer. It’s served in salads, mainly. I think. I’m not much of a cook. I leave that to the specialists. We have a remarkably good kitchen staff aboard, you know.”

“Oh, I
know
,” Jil gushed. “That delicate little egg casserole at lunch was absolutely marvelous! The Emperor’s own cooks would be proud to have served that.”

Naftil’s dusky complexion suffused with red. “You are much too kind, Lady Jil.”

“I only speak the truth,” my cousin said, with a slow smile. “It’s far too much trouble to recall all the lies I might tell. I am far too lazy, as any of my relatives would be glad to tell you.”

She dropped the small plant into his hand. He held it out behind him for me to take, which I did without comment. The ladies, trailing along behind the pair, registered amusement on their faces, but did not laugh aloud.

I was not accustomed to being so ignored, and the ignominy roiled up within me. Still, I had promised my mother not to undermine the captain’s authority. In her name, I bore my disgrace bravely. I went on repotting herbs with one eye on my cousin.

Jil made the most of her conquest. Like a gazelle in the moonlight, she led the captain up and down the aisles of plants, asking their names and uses. Her entourage chatted quietly among themselves behind them. Once in a while, one of the ladies caught my eye and offered me a sympathetic look. It was clear Jil had no intention of correcting the captain’s misconception. The poor man was entirely besotted. He had no idea how he appeared to his subordinates, but until her spell was broken, he would never know. I had no intention of breaking it to him.

“Let me show you back to your sitting room,” Captain Naftil said. “As you were, spacers.”

“Aye, sir!” we chorused.

I glanced backward. They were leaving. My torture was nearly complete, when Banitra threw a playful smirk over her shoulder.