"Hmmph," I said. "It sounds like your spies have Tired Brains."

Festina cocked her head and looked at me with her garishly green eyes. "Speaking of Tired Brains…" She stared at me keenly for several moments without finishing her sentence. I stared back, attempting to look as Un-Tired as possible. Finally my friend shrugged and said, "Let’s talk."

12: WHEREIN I GATHER CRUCIAL INFORMATION

Ticking Bombs

The conference room had chairs that swiveled. This was most excellent indeed if you sat with your knees tucked up to your chest, you could keep spinning round until you got dizzy. Even better, one whole wall of the room was a great panel showing a blizzard of stars; the panel pretended to be a window, but Festina said it was actually a computer simulation. Either way, when you spun on your chair, you saw stars whizzing past like white streaks… which just goes to show Science is not totally bad, if it can make highly advanced chairs for Personal Amusement.

While I spun, Festina revealed how Royal Hemlock came to be in this region of space. Apparently, it was due to Uclod’s great-great-uncle, an elderly person named Oh-God. Like all Unorrs, Uncle Oh-God was a terrible criminal — one who happened to specialize in an offense called smuggling. (I did not quite understand why smuggling was such an odious crime, nor why humans gave it the cozy name "smuggling," which sounds like a pleasant bed game, not a felony at all; but my head was reeling in circles, so that is my excuse for not following the logic.).

This Oh-God had not always been a professional lawbreaker — in younger days, he belonged to the Technocracy’s Explorer Corps, though he was not human.[8] Ex-Explorer Oh-God still kept in touch with his friends from the corps… which is why he contacted Festina when he heard the Unorrs intended to release Admiral York’s secret files. He had warned Festina that trouble was brewing — there was no telling what the High Council might do to prevent the full truth from coming out. Therefore, Oh-God advised Festina to protect herself.

[8] — Apparently, the Technocracy welcomed Freeps, Tye-Tyes, and other Divian subspecies as citizens. Many Divian planets had even joined the Technocracy as Fringe Worlds… which I believe means they served as Faithful Sidekicks to real worlds.

As soon as my friend received Oh-God’s message, she realized the Admiralty would try to erase all signs of what had happened on Melaquin. Accordingly, she raced for my planet to preserve what evidence she could. Festina did not know that four navy ships had several hours headstart on her; nor had Oh-God mentioned that his great-grandnephew Uclod had set out for Melaquin even earlier. Therefore, Festina hastened through The Void, thinking she had a chance of reaching Oarville first… and she would have flown all the way to my planet, if her ship had not detected the brief transmission I made before the Shaddill jammed our communications. Since it was not far off her intended route, she ordered her crew to check the source of the signal. That is how my Faithful Sidekick found me in the infinite depths of space; and I was only a tiny bit angered she had not been searching for me, and had never visited Melaquin in the years since I supposedly died.

"But the planet was off-limits," Festina protested — as if that were sufficient excuse for not coming to weep on my grave. "I’d forced the Admiralty to agree no one would ever land on Melaquin again: not the council, not me, not anyone associated with the Technocracy. It was the best way to keep the League of Peoples happy. That’s why nobody had cleaned up the evidence before; the top admirals didn’t want to risk upsetting the League. Now, of course, with their asses on the line, the council will do anything to stay out of jail… which means they’re like rabid dogs, biting anyone who gets in the way."

"Including us?" Uclod asked.

"You, me, and their own dear mothers… not to mention," Festina raised her voice slightly, "anyone who’s managed to hack into the ship’s internal intercoms to eavesdrop on this meeting."

"You think we are being spied upon?" I whispered.

"On this damned ship, it’s a certainty. The ship-soul computers are constantly listening… which means other ears could be listening too."

Uclod snorted. "Hell of a security system you got if any Tom, Dick, or Harry can hack into your hardware."

Festina glared at him. "The fleet’s computer security is nigh well unbeatable against outsiders; the problems only come from insider spies. The spies work for admirals, and admirals all have backdoor access codes that circumvent our regular safeguards." Her fierce expression melted to a rueful smile. "Basically, this meeting is shielded against everyone except the bastards who are most likely to eavesdrop on us. And if anybody is eavesdropping," she said, raising her voice again, "you now know too much for the High Council’s comfort. If I happened to be a spy, I’d think long and hard about my own personal safety. If, for example, I received a secret order like, ‘Sabotage Royal Hemlock,’ I’d wonder what would happen if I obeyed. Suppose I disabled the Hemlock so it could be captured by the council. Would the Admiralty really reward me for devotion to duty? Or would I end up with everyone else on a thousand-year sleep-ship to Andromeda?"

She let the question hang in the air. Finally, it was the mook sergeant who broke the silence. "The admiral realizes," he said, "how unlikely it is that every spy on board will accept your reasoning?"

"Certainly," Festina told him. "There’ll always be idiots who dream of big payoffs, even when they know they’re working for treacherous bastards. But I’m hoping there’ll also be sensible people to stop them.People who’d rather not fall off the map, thank you very much, and who’ll blow the whistle to me or the captain."

"The admiral is an optimist," Sergeant Mook said, though he was smiling behind his visor.

"The admiral likes people to know where their best interests lie," Festina replied. "She also takes taking every possible precaution. For example, Sergeant, I would never tell you your job, but do we really need this huge contingent to guard unarmed civilians? Aren’t there better places your people could be?"

The sergeant’s eyes flickered. "Does the admiral vouch for these guests being trustworthy?"

Festina looked at us a moment. Uclod, Lajoolie, Nimbus, and me, then laughed out loud. "Of course not. All four are ticking bombs, for Christ’s sake. But compared to some members of the crew, these folks are absolute saints. Why not leave a few of your guards here, and send the rest to… oh, wherever you think a not-too-smart spy might stir up mischief."

The sergeant said nothing for a count of three, then nodded. "The admiral’s suggestion is well taken." He tapped a button on his wrist, then began speaking rapidly — which is to say his lips moved at high speed, though I could not hear a sound coming out of his helmet. I assume his words were transmitted privately to the troops around him… because in a few seconds, all but two of the mooks saluted and clattered out of the room. As for the sergeant himself, he and the two remaining Security persons took up a position in front of the door: all three of them in exactly the same stance, hands folded below their waists, feet slightly spread apart.

"Lovely," Festina said, turning back to the rest of us. "Now let’s get caught up, shall we? What’s been going on?"

When I told her my story, she screamed.

The Gawker

Festina did not scream loudly, nor in one continuous howl… but at key points in my tale, she yelped or winced or muttered most engaging profanities. She was not at all happy about the Shaddill hovering over Melaquin; she became all growls when I told how they shot us with a sinister unconsciousness beam; she was eyes-wide astonished when I described flying into the sun with no ill effects; but her most violent reaction came at the end, when Uclod rudely took it upon himself to fill in the "gaps" of my narrative.