‘You don’t want citadels cuttin’ neophytes’ hair, all you have to do is tell ’em so. You think somethin’s happened to her?’
‘No,’ he grumped. ‘No, I don’t. Tasmin’s clever. And that Jamieson is cleverer than two Tasmins. He could sing his way by the Black Tower in the dark with a high wind blowing. And Renna’s no fool-child, herself. No, I think they got driven back into the range and are bottled up in there. They’ll get to a citadel eventually. Hope they’ve got sense enough to stay there until all this is over.’
He went into a silent communion with his worries, fumbling papers from one pile to another until Gereny asked, ‘You knew the discipline stockade was found empty, and all the hard cases have disappeared along with most of the regular troops and a whole batch of weaponry?’
‘Captain Jines Verbold told me, yes. Came to me at home, kind of snuck around so’s nobody’d see him, said it happened without his knowledge or help, and I believe him. Verbold says his men are the only ones left around, barely enough of ’em to round up the Crystallites – which he had orders to do. Colonel Lang is showin’ his true colors, Gereny.’
‘Well, what are you doin’ about it?’
‘I’ve got every citadel on alert. I’ve cut off Tripsingers, so he can’t use them to get anyplace. Trouble is, Gereny, there wasn’t any pressure to get Tripsingers. Which means….’
‘Which means Justin figures he won’t need ’em, right?’
‘Doesn’t need and doesn’t want. That’s the way I see it, yes. So, I’ve sent Tripsingers here and Tripsingers there, the ones with the best rifle scores, and I’ve sent some noise projectors and what not. Way I got it figured, this is pretty rough country and those troops haven’t seen action in a long, long time. One good rifleman ought to be able to pin down a lot of troops, don’t you think? Blow up some ’lings on top of ’em. Delay ’em some?’
‘Delay ’em maybe. I don’t think you’ll stop ’em.’
‘No, Gereny, I don’t either. We’ll need some help to do that.’
‘Did your Captain tell you the troops had some Explorers with ’em?’
The Grand Master scowled at her. ‘Chase Random Hall has had both hands out for a long time. He probably called in a few loyalty chits, told a few more lies. Some fool young Explorers think loyalty’s more important than good sense.’ Thyle ran both hands through his white hair and sighed. ‘Hall’s been their union rep for years, sold ’em out on almost every issue, and they still vote for him and pay him his fealty. Makes you wonder what some people use for brains.’
‘Rheme’s trying to get a message out asking for a gun-ship, is he?’
‘Why the hell else are we gettin’ ready to evacuate the citadel, Gereny? Say the PEC figures it has enough evidence of corruption it gets itchy and calls for Justin’s resignation and the Governor’s. Up until just recent, Rheme was gettin’ a lot of information out, and I figure the PEC might figure it had about enough evidence by now. Say Justin or Wuyllum or both orders out the whole army to defend ’em and refuse to budge. Be dumb of either of ’em, but they might do it anyhow.’
‘Not the Governor. Rheme says he’s gettin’ ready to run. Any time now.’
‘Well, Justin then. Say Justin digs himself in and won’t move. It’d be like him. So, then, say the PEC decides to slash off BDL headquarters as a sort of object lesson. That happens I don’t want to be sittin’ here in the citadel, right on their doorstep, examinin’ my belly button as my last view of anythin’ mortal.’
‘’Tisn’t a bad belly button,’ Gereny remarked in a discriminating tone.
‘Lots’ve flesh I’d rather be lookin’ at,’ he replied, pinching a portion of Gereny’s.
‘You old bantigon,’ she remarked fondly. ‘Well, if you want to spend any of your declinin’ years chasing women, you’d better go through this pile of stuff and tell me what we need to keep.’ She put another file in a carton and thumped it to settle the contents. ‘And you’d better start thinkin’ up real good excuses to move everybody out without Honeypeach Thonks gettin’ suspicious. She watches this place like she was a gyre-bird and we’d been dead for three days.’
‘I know she does,’ he said uncomfortably. The close surveillance Honeypeach exercised over the citadel in Splash One had been one of his major concerns. ‘I figured she’d be gone by the time we needed to move. Thought I might leave movin’ ’til the last minute, Gereny, love. Assumin’ there’s goin’ to be a last minute.’
Vivian Ferrence lay on a mattress inflated over a layer of crates in the bottom of a brou wagon, baby Miles bouncing on her stomach. Their journey had gone on for many days, and the anxieties of Splash One were beginning to give way to less painful feelings, though in an erratic and undependable fashion. She no longer had to worry whether Miles would have enough to eat on a given day. The food provided by the trip cook was monotonous but adequate. Flat bread. Beans or cheese or bean cheese. Dried fish or meat. A small ration of fresh fruits and vegetables. Once every four or five days, a bit of roasted fresh meat when one of the bantigons from the crate in the back of the cook wagon
