He noted a family resemblance among many of those seated together, and a seating order that seemed to indicate that age was given precedence. That made sense, given that their equivalent of a king was a chief elder.
Maybe we can work with that, he mused. We respect family, so do they. Titles and such are passed down in order of birth in the Star Kingdom. I'd bet anything that there's a preference for age and experience here over youthful ambition.
Michael's self-imposed task was made easier in that most of those gathered in the Conclave Hall were studying him in turn, their gazes holding curiosity, unease, or, most often, open hostility.
They have never learned, he thought, amused, that being part of a crowd gives very little protection from being seen if one cares to look. These men may be bulls in their own herds, but they are cattle beneath the rule of these Elders who claim to speak for God.
He felt very glad, then, to belong to the Star Kingdom of Manticore where, no matter that there was a House of Lords and House of Commons, a talented individual could rise on merit alone, and, where, best of all, no one claimed to have an exclusive idea what was the Will of God.
It rapidly became apparent, to Michael's relief, Lawler's frustration, and Faldo's resigned acceptance, that Chief Elder Simonds intended today's gathering of the Conclave of Elders to be his opportunity to show off his new prizes. Although questions were directed to the Manticoran guests, the answers were often given by Simonds or one of his toadies. It was long and wearying, rather like listening to a shout and its echo, so Michael let his attention drift.
It was for this reason he noticed when a messenger made his unobtrusive way to one of the family groups, one of those that Michael had noticed before because of the predominance of short-haired individuals.
Messengers were not uncommon. Any form of electronic communication was forbidden in this gathering of ostensible technophobes. However, there was something about the swift and purposeful way this messenger advanced that caught Michael's eye. He grinned to himself, wondering if some of Todd's preternatural awareness for human interaction had rubbed off on him.
The messenger did not speak with the head of the clan, but to someone who had to be an older son. Michael noted with mild curiosity that the son did not pass the message on to his father, nor did the father inquire after it.
Chain of command? he thought. I'd bet anything they've served together and the father has learned to trust his son's judgement.
Michael felt a familiar flicker of grief. His father had died when he was thirteen T-years old. He'd never know if Roger III would have approved of him and his choices. Given that there were times Michael himself doubted the wisdom of his entering the Navy, he supposed he should be relieved.
Chief Elder Simonds was declaiming something forceful and poetic about how God would guide his Chosen to the path of greatest wisdom—a speech that was basically a put-down of someone who had had the temerity to actually suggest some sort of cost-benefit analysis of the advantages of an alliance with the Star Kingdom of Manticore—when Michael noticed another messenger heading for the spacefaring clan.
In the interim he'd checked the seating chart they'd been given and learned that these were the Templetons, headed by one Ephraim Templeton who apparently headed a prosperous merchant trading fleet. According to John Hill's briefing (when Michael consulted the notes he had stored on a discreetly concealed pocket computer) the Templetons were in the awkward position of having too much to do with hated technology to be trusted in high government, but of having too much wealth to be ignored.
This time Gideon Templeton, identified by Hill's amazingly comprehensive brief as the eldest son of Ephraim and captain in his own right of the trading ship Psalms, passed the communique to his father. Ephraim read it and Michael saw him scowl. He scribbled something for the waiting messenger and then returned his attention to what the Senior Elder was saying.
Michael would have bet anything that neither Ephraim nor Gideon were listening very closely any longer. There was a tension in their seated forms that spoke volumes. Nor was he surprised when he saw a message being passed to one of the highest ranking Senior Elders. The man's bushy eyebrows shot up to his hairline and he wrote a terse reply.
Moments later, the messenger had returned to the Templetons. Ephraim glanced at the note handed to him, nodded crisply, and motioned for his sons to follow him. Without interrupting Chief Elder Simonds' harangue, the entire group filed from the hall.
Even before this, the exchange of messages had caught the attention of many of the gathered Elders. Simonds apparently realized that he was losing their attention and said rather sharply:
"I have been informed by Elder Huggins that Brother Ephraim Templeton and his sons have been called from us in order to deal with a technological problem."
The sneer in his voice when he mentioned the hated technology, along with the fact that he denied Ephraim Templeton his title while granting it to Huggins were signals to everyone present that the Chief Elder would be quite offended if the gathering paid any more attention to this diversion. Michael saw heads snap front and center, like recruits at a dress parade.
Simonds was returning to his speech when Michael felt a tap on his shoulder. John Hill leaned forward and whispered very softly.
"Come with me."
Michael raised an eyebrow, but Hill shook his head, refusing further discussion. Trusting that the spy would have already consulted Faldo and that Faldo would cover his departure, Michael obeyed.
Out in the corridor, Hill said, "We're getting you off planet. Something hinky is up, and you'd better not be in reach of these fanatics. If it turns out to be nothing, we can make apologies then."
Michael blinked.
"Hinky?"
John Hill led the way briskly down an astonishingly empty corridor.
"I'm still gathering information. Will you trust me?"
For a moment Michael thought about how much Hill seemed to have collected about the Masadans, about his overly comprehensive knowledge of even the minutia of their culture. Then he gave a mental shrug. This wasn't the time to get paranoid, not with what he'd seen out there on the conclave floor, not with the sudden departure of the Templetons, not with Simond's evident annoyance.
He nodded, then followed Hill as the other man moved briskly toward a stairway leading to the roof.
Despite the doors to Aaron's Rod's shuttlebay opening as of their own accord, Judith could see no good reason not to accept the invitation and several reasons why they should. Most importantly, the shuttle was far more vulnerable out in open space than it would be neatly parked within the hull.
She had no illusions that Ephraim would not be notified of the shuttle's unauthorized departure, only the hope that such notification would be delayed until he could not effectively pursue.
Judith was so busy concentrating on why Aaron's Rod's bay doors had opened of their own accord that she didn't notice that she had managed a textbook perfect landing until she saw Dinah's smile.
"No contact from Aaron's Rod," Odelia reported crisply, "but sensors report several strange things, including a higher power load on the reactor and a higher readiness level from Engineering."
Judith frowned, but signalled to begin powering down the shuttle.
"Forward your report to Samson's Bane, and tell them to be ready. . . ."
Odelia gave a slight start, and held up her hand in mute interruption. Then she switched what was coming over her ear-set so the rest of the cock-pit could hear.
"Hey, Joe," a laconic male voice she recognized as Sam, one of the caretaker crew, said over an audio-only channel. "Looking good. We'll be bringing out the carry flats when pressure and atmosphere are re-established. Why didn't you take Blossom? We were a little surprised."