Nor was Snelund laying on any pressure. Flandry might have removed Kathryn McCormac hence for “special interrogation deemed essential to the maximization of success probability on a surveillance mission” in sheer impudence. He might have lost first his ship and last his prisoner in sheer carelessness. But after he came back with a booty that should allow Admiral Pickens to give the rebellion a single spectacular deathblow, without help from Terra and with no subsequent tedious inspection of militia operations, the governor could not well be aught but courteous to the man who saved his political bacon.
Nevertheless, when Flandry requested a secret talk, it had not been with the expectation of dinner tête-à-tête.
“Indeed?” Snelund breathed.
Flandry glanced across the table at him: wavy, fiery hair, muliebrile countenance, gorgeous purple and gold robe, twinkle and shimmer of jewelry. Behind that, Flandry thought, were a bowel and a skull.
“The thing is, sir,” he said, “I had a delicate decision to make.”
Snelund nodded, smiling but with a gaze gone flat and hard as two stones. “I suspected that, Commander. Certain aspects of your report and behavior, certain orders you issued with a normally needless haste and authoritative ring, were not lost on me. You have me to thank for passing the word that I felt you should not be argued with. I was, ah, curious as to what you meant.”
“I do thank Your Excellency.” Flandry started his cigar. “This matter’s critical to you too, sir. Let me remind you of my dilemma on Dido. Lady McCormac became extremely popular with my men.”
“Doubtless.” Snelund laughed. “I taught her some unusual tricks.”
I have no weapons under this blue and white dress uniform, Aaron Snelund. I have nothing but my hands and feet. And a black belt in karate, plus training in other techniques. Except for unfinished business, I’d merrily let myself be executed, in fair trade for the joy of dismantling you.
Because the creature must recall what her soul had been like when he flayed it open, and might be probing veracity now, Flandry gave him a sour grin. “No such luck, sir. She even refused my proposition, which fact I pray you to declare a top secret. But — well, there she was, the only woman, handsome, able, bright. Toward the end, most were a touch in love with her. She’d spread the impression that her stay here had been unpleasant. To be frank, sir, I feared a mutiny if the men expected she’d be remanded to you. Bringing in the code was too crucial to risk.”
“So you connived at her escape.” Snelund sipped. “That’s tacitly realized by everyone, Commander. A sound judgment, whether or not we dare put it in the record. She can be tracked down later.”
“But sir, I didn’t.”
“What!” Snelund sat bolt erect.
Flandry said fast: “Let’s drop the euphemisms, sir. She made some extremely serious accusations against you. Some people might use them to buttress a claim that your actions were what caused this rebellion. I didn’t want that. If you’ve read much history, you’ll agree nothing works like a Boadicea — no? — a martyr, especially an attractive female martyr, to create trouble. The Empire would suffer. I felt it was my duty to keep her. To get the men’s agreement, I had to convince them she would not be returned here. She’d go to a Naval section, where rules protect prisoners and testimony isn’t likely to be suppressed.”
Snelund had turned deadpan. “Continue,” he said.
Flandry sketched his means of smuggling her in. “The fleet should be assembled and ready to depart for Satan in about three days,” he finished, “now that scouts have verified the enemy is still using the code I brought. I’m not expected to accompany it. I am expected, though, by my men, to obtain orders for myself that will send the Rommel to Ifri, Terra, or some other place where she’ll be safe. They’ll have ways of finding out whether I do. You know how word circulates in any set of offices. If I don’t — I’m not sure that secrecy will bind every one of those lads. And disclosure would inconvenience you, sir, at this highly critical time.”
Snelund drained his brandy glass and refilled it. The little glug-glug sounded loud across the music. “Why do you tell me?”
“Because of what I’ve said. As a patriot, I can’t allow anything that might prolong the rebellion.”
Snelund studied him. “And she refused you?” he said at length.
Spite etched Flandry’s tones. “I don’t appreciate that, from third-hand goods like her.” With quick smoothness: “But this is beside the point. My obligation … to you, Your Excellency, as well as to the Imperium—”
“Ah, yes.” Snelund eased. “It does no harm to have a man in your debt who is on his way up, does it?”
Flandry looked smug.
“Yes-s-s, I think we resonate, you and I,” Snelund said. “What is your suggestion?”
“Well,” Flandry replied, “as far as officialdom knows, Rommel contains no life other than my multiple Didonian. And heesh will never talk. If my orders were cut tonight — not specifically to anywhere, let’s say, only for ‘reconnaissance and report at discretion, employing minimal crew’ — a phone call by Your Excellency to someone on Admiral Bickens’ staff would take care of that — I could go aboard and depart. My men would relax about Lady McCormac. When they haven’t heard news of her in a year or two — well, reassignment will have scattered them and feelings will have cooled. Oblivion is a most valuable servant, Your Excellency.”
“Like yourself,” Snelund beamed. “I do believe our careers are going to be linked, Commander. If I can trust you—”
“Come see for yourself,” Flandry proposed.
“Eh?”
“You said you’d be interested in meeting my Didonian anyway. It can be discreet. I’ll give you the Rommel’s orbital elements and you go up alone in your flitter, not telling anybody where you’re bound.” Flandry blew a smoke ring. “You might like to take personal charge of the execution. To make sure it’s done in a manner suitable to the crime. We could have hours.”
Then he waited.
Until sweat made beads on Snelund’s skin and an avid voice said, “Yes!”
Flandry hadn’t dared hope to catch the prize for which he angled. Had he failed, he would have made it his mission in life to accomplish the same result by other methods. The fact left him feeling so weak and lightheaded that he wondered vaguely if he could walk out of there.
He did, after a period of conference and arrangement-making. A gubernatorial car delivered him at Catawrayannis Base, where he changed into working garb, accepted his orders, and got a flitter to the Rommel.
Time must be allowed for that craft to descend again, lest the pilot notice another and ornate one lay alongside. Flandry sat on the bridge, alone with his thoughts. The viewscreen showed him planet and stars, a huge calm beauty.
Vibration sounded in the metal, as airlocks joined and magnetronic grapples made fast. Flandry went down to admit his guest.
Snelund came through the airlock breathing hard. He carried a surgical kit. “Where is she?” he demanded.
“This way, sir.” Flandry let him go ahead. He did not appear to have noticed Flandry’s gun, packed in case of bodyguards. There weren’t any. They might have gossiped.
Woe stood outside the captain’s cabin. Xenological interest or no, Snelund barely glanced at heesh and jittered while Flandry said in pidgin: “Whatever you hear, stay where you are until I command you otherwise.”
The noga’s horn dipped in acknowledgment. The ruka touched the ax at his side. The krippo sat like a bird of prey.