After a brief hassle and a confirmation call to Drusus, they let me pass. There were plenty of disgusted looks. I stank, apparently, of the legions.
I didn’t care. I pasted on a smile and found a chair at the big table. Drusus and a load of other guys with fat guts and even bigger butts had pulled up to circle the conference display. They glanced at me with mild curiosity, but no one asked me any questions. That was just as well, as I was in a foul mood.
Drusus was the only one standing, and he directed the meeting like the pro he was. “So to begin, let’s go over the latest xenopsych report on Governor Nox.”
I tuned out a lot of prattling and nonsense. The xeno people were growing in popularity among the brass. They were proud as peacocks, dead certain that with enough psychobabble they could figure out which way Nox would jump next. I could have told them that without taking more than a few seconds to think it over. The Mogwa weren’t all that complicated, after all. They were arrogant, mean, and extremely self-centered. Nox would make every decision on the basis of her own personal comfort and advancement.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to a man of my short attention span, someone called on me. It was the fattest guy in the room, Praetor Wurtenburger. He had a heavy accent and an inflated view of himself, but I didn’t hate him.
“We have one member of this celebrated committee who we’ve heard nothing from as of yet. I suspect his reticence is due to being overawed by so many high ranking personnel. McGill? Please enlighten us with your wisdom on this issue.”
I woke up with a start. I’d been nodding off, just slightly. Worse, I had no earthly idea what the current topic of conversation was. But the truth never helped anyone, so when the adrenaline kicked in, I came up with some brisk lies and glib dodges on the instant.
“I’m sorry, sirs,” I said. “I know all this seems mighty important to everyone here, but I can’t help but think we’re missing the boat.”
They blinked at me for a moment—and it was a long moment. I was using these few seconds of confusion to come up with my follow-up sentences.
As I’m a creature of gross laziness and vile habits when it comes to meetings and committee work, I’d long ago worked out a plan of attack when I was caught-out like this. The old, less smooth McGill, would have probably drooled and said “uh…” or “um…” for a spell, but not this older version of me. Not today.
By claiming that I was thinking some unholy thoughts full of great wisdom, I was able to sidestep the actual question that had been asked and hide the fact I’d been paying zero attention to the group. This was my latest method of both avoiding boredom and looking good at the same time.
“Now, I understand that long meetings and such-like have their value and their time and place,” I continued, following another dodge, “but I don’t think that’s what we should do.”
“McGill…” Drusus interrupted. I could tell at a glance that he was suspecting me, or at least that he wanted me to get to the point. “What’s more important than an intergalactic incident between the Skay and the Mogwa—an incident in which we’re playing a critical role? Earth is front and center in this crisis.”
“Just this, sirs,” I said loudly, my voice rising as I felt an idea coming on. There was something I knew about Nox that very few others had knowledge of. It was time to play that card with all the volume and gravity I could muster. Standing up to my full height, I made a declaration. “Governor Nox has a baby. She’s a mommy, see, and it’s her greatest shame. I believe, in fact, that the former Governor Sateekas is the father.”
This created an instant stir. The xeno-psychs all but fell out of their chairs. After all, it was their job to know anything and everything about our overlords.
“Ridiculous!” complained the top nerd of the xenos. “How could you possibly know such a thing? I’ve heard about you, Centurion. You’re a fabricator. A sensationalist. A—”
I never got to hear what else I was because Drusus had waved for her to sit down. I stood tall, putting my hands on my hips, scowling and daring the rest of them with my eyes to keep calling me a liar.
“Go on, McGill,” Drusus said. “I know you had several private and nearly private moments with Governor Nox. What makes you think all this is true?”
“I saw it, and I asked her about it. She confirmed my suspicions.”
“Saw what?”
“A baby Mogwa, squirming in her pouch. I thought at first she was pregnant, but she confessed she’d already had the baby, and she indicated it was why she’d been transferred to govern one of the worst provinces in the Empire—and I’m talking about 921, our hometown. She further hinted that she’d had a relationship with Sateekas.”
“Thin evidence,” the xeno complained, but Drusus shushed her again.
“You said she confessed? So it seemed like a negative for her career?”
“That’s right, Praetor sir. She said as much.”
Drusus nodded, and he began to pace. Almost everyone there waited, because they were lower rank—but one man didn’t. Praetor Wurtenburger heaved himself up, his gut slapping the table as it went
