Guardsmen of Tomorrow Read Free

backs of his hands and extending down each finger to the tip.
    Well, that, as much as anything else, explained his rank and considerable power.
    “You’re late” was the way he greeted Hazzard, as the office door dilated and the ship captain stepped between the Marine sentries and into cy-Koenin’s inner sanctum.
    “Yes, sir,” he replied. Hazzard was familiar enough with the ways of admirals to know that excuses were neither desired nor appropriate.
    Wall screens displayed deep space-not the view from Tribaltren, but someplace closer in toward the Galactic Core, teeming with orange suns and the mingled, softer glows of pale nebulae. The mirrors, black trim, and star projections made it difficult to see where the walls of the room really were. Hazzard wondered if he could even find the door again.
    Another man was in the room, reclining in a black synthliquid chair. Lean, hard, and angular, his face was faceted as though carved from obsidian. Both eyes were covered by a sensor array implant, and he was, if anything, more heavily intertwined with hardware than the Port Admiral. “Admiral,” cy-Koenin said, “this is the young man I was telling you about. Captain Hazzard, Admiral Starlord cy-Dennever.”
    Hazzard inclined his head, as courtesy required. “My lord.”
    Cy-Dennever looked him over coldly. “A noncy? My dear Dal, you are joking, I trust.”
    Noncy. Non-cybernetically augmented. That again…
    “I believe you will find me up to any task required of me, my lord.”
    He sniffed and continued to address cy-Koenin, pointedly ignoring Hazzard. “I specifically require a frigate captain capable of leading my in-system squadron and with a master’s understanding of the Ordiku Anarchate and the political situation there. A noncy simply will not do.”
    “Captain Hazzard is what’s available, Admiral,” cy-Koenin replied. “And he has personal knowledge of Kaden. Don’t you, Hazzard?”
    “Yes, sir. I was an assistant diplomatic naval attache to the Anarchate home world for a year. My steward is Irdikad, in fact.”
    Cy-Dennever gave him another look, harder this time. “And how long ago was this?”
    “Oh, about eight years subjective, my lord.”
    “How long objective? Things do change groundside while we’re on highspace approach. Or hadn’t you noticed?”
    Hazzard had to consult his PC. He’d minused some subjective with this latest deployment at Danibar. How much? Nearly two years, this time.
    “‘Nineteen years objective, sir.”
    “Nineteen years. Well, you’ll find the political situation within the Anarchate radically transformed. I’m not so sure you will be of any use to me.”
    “Their politics may have changed, my lord, but I doubt that the Irdikad have.
    They’re solitary, traditional, meticulous, a bit stuffy, even stubborn at times. They are also unflinchingly loyal.” He smiled. “Despite their interest in tradition-their recorded history goes back something like nine thousand years--they respect, you might even say revere , madness. Insanity is rare, but it’s granted a special status in their culture, maybe to avoid the problems of stagnation.”
    “Ahem, yes,” cy-Dennever said. “All very amusing, I’m sure. But the facts of the matter are that the Anarchate is now in negotiations with the P’aaseni Orthodoxate.
    The Ministry of Political Intelligence assures me that a decision by the Anarchate is imminent, perhaps within the next ten days, and that Orthodoxate ships will almost certainly deploy before then to, urn, convince the Irdikad to come along.”
    “The Irdikad volume is small, but strategically placed,” cy-Koenin added. “They have a fleet… a small one, true, but one capable of causing some considerable inconvenience should we extend our operations in that quarter. Lord cy-Dennever’s orders are to present a show of force at the Anarchate capital.”
    “Exactly. My squadron has firepower sufficient to convince the Irdikads that joining with the