Rhythm of the Imperium Read Free Page B

Whereas in the Imperium Compound in Taino, those personal suites might comprise anything from a single room to a small estate covering acres, here they were uniform in size. The cozy reception room of my cabin, as I was pleased to call it, featured a large, comfortable chair, a floor-to-ceiling looking glass, and a long, low shelf to my right hand, suitable for flinging whatever I might be carrying. The shelf was unoccupied upon my arrival, but the chair was not. As I entered, the inhabitant of the seat rose. The familiar form, some centimeters taller than my own lofty height, his frame muscular yet whipcord fit, epicene chin shaved to perfection, with shining black hair and eyes as dark as the mysteries behind them, clad in self-effacing black from collar to heels, stood at attention to welcome me. This person was my aide-de-camp, overseer, intermediary and functionary of other useful undertakings too numerous to mention. He occupied the naval rank of commander, with several other titles, I was certain, to supplement that of an agent, no doubt high-ranking, in our Covert Services. He had been my mentor nearly all of my life.
    “Parsons!” I exclaimed. I threw myself into an attitude of welcome that I had devised, including a gesture of offering with both hands energy that poured from my heart, and concluded with a bow that brought my chin to the floor. There was just room in the chamber to accommodate this gesture without upending my visitor. “I am overjoyed to see you. I was prepared to seek you out in the lower levels of this vessel.”
    “I thought it better,” that worthy replied, “to save you the effort, my lord.”
    “The soul of consideration,” I said, beaming at him. I rose to my feet. “Would it discomfit you if I tidied myself and changed clothes while we conversed?” I sniffed, and winced at the resulting olfactory input. “I’m afraid that I may not be perfectly fit for polite society at the moment.”
    “Not at all, my lord,” he replied. “The sonic shower will deter any potential eavesdroppers who might be listening.”
    I wrinkled my nose, an expression not unlike that of Redius, but with a more human interpretation: disappointment. “I had hoped to enjoy a bath. This suite’s tub has a remarkable heating unit that maintains the temperature at my preference for hours, and a shape that is designed to contain my entire person from the neck down. I don’t have to put the dome on it while the gravity generators are functioning. And don’t you have a small gadget that fulfills that task of providing private discourse?”
    His face never changed expression, yet I could tell I had hit upon a sore point.
    “I await the delivery of an upgrade to the programming of that device, my lord. Although I will deploy my ‘gadget,’ as you call it, I have received notification within the last hour that its encoding mechanism has been compromised. Hence, it would be more efficacious to use two devices in tandem.”
    “Oh, very well,” I said. “Come on through.” I retired to the bedroom and retreated behind the opaque screen that stood between the boudoir and the bathing area. The latter had been constructed from one single piece of high-impact ceramic, but had been decorated in stellarscapes by a galaxy-famous artist who enjoyed a patronage from the Imperium. I had employed her skills myself in a gift I had had made for my mother’s next birthday: a small glass sculpture that emitted dancing light in the deep-blue wavelength of her formal naval uniform. I would present it at the conclusion of a new performance I had been choreographing just for that occasion, three days after our scheduled return from the coming spectacle.
    I flipped on the switch that activated the cylindrical cleansing booth. An audible hum arose from its interior, indicating that the sonic scrubbers were ready. I stripped off my leotard and deposited it into the collection bin that would be policed by the LAI valet assigned to