On The Imperium’s Secret Service (Imperium Cicernus) (12 page)

“You don’t want to shower in there,” he said, seriously. 

Mariko realised that he was right.  Leaving the shower muddy would have tipped her sister off that something was wrong – although she
would
have to tell Mai sooner rather than later.  She’d already gotten Mai into deep trouble once by accident and she didn't want to do it again. 

“Come and share mine” Fitz added.  “I have a maidbot to clear up the mess.”

A day ago, she would have taken that for an invitation to share more than just a shower, but now she realised that Fitz was far more complex than he appeared.  She followed him into his suite and realised, not entirely to her surprise, that he had a far larger washroom than his retainers.  The shower looked large enough to hold ten oversized men comfortably and there was a bathtub that could have held four people, provided they didn't mind being intimate.  Fitz turned on the shower and warm water cascaded down from high overhead as Mariko struggled to take off her overalls.  She was too tired to worry about modesty right now.  Fitz didn't even seem to be interested in sneaking a peek.

“Just ditch them in the disposal bin,” Fitz advised, as she finally managed to pull off her sodden trousers.  “There’s no point in trying to wash them here and if we hand them over to the laundry staff they’ll know what we were doing.  We can get you another pair later.”

“Thank you,” Mariko said, thickly.  She hadn’t even
considered
the possibility that their clothes might betray them.  But then, it had only been three hours since she’d set out to follow Fitz.  It felt like years.  “What about your...outfit?”

“It can be washed in the shower and then returned to the ship,” Fitz said.  He stepped past her, still dressed, and into the curtain of water.  Mud ran off his outfit as he slowly undressed, spiralling down towards the plughole. 

Mariko wondered suddenly if the mud in the water would also betray them, before realising that the whole complex ran largely on automated systems.  They wouldn't notice anything unexpected in the water as they purified it and returned it to the storage tanks. 

“Come on in,” he told her. “The water’s lovely.”

It felt almost too hot for Mariko, but she followed him in anyway, picking up a soapy brush and using it to scrub her body. 

Fitz kept his back to her, leaving her feeling faintly ashamed for looking at him, but he was worth looking at.  She hadn't seen him lift anything heavier than a martini glass, yet the muscles under his skin were as hard as steel and there were a handful of faint scars that suggested that he’d led a more active life than his public persona would admit.  There were even faint traces suggesting that he had been augmented, perhaps as much as an Imperial Marine or a Bloody Blade.  Direct augmentation was rare outside the military, even for the aristocracy.  It hadn't been
that
long since the Cyborgs of Calculus had made their own bid for power, once they’d created a hive mind from thousands of unwilling human subjects.  The old taboos still remained.

After everything they’d gone though, she suddenly found it easy to feel desire again, to want to take him in her arms and see where it would lead.  He
was
attractive – and he was clearly far more than just a playboy.  But she pushed the impulse aside, ruthlessly.  She didn’t know what was going on with Fitz, or on Tuff itself.  Who knew who had really raised the army in the jungle?

“You shouldn't have followed me,” Fitz said.  He was holding a small device in his hand, one that she vaguely recognised as a counter-bugging system.  “I told you that it was dangerous out there.”

“Yes, Milord,” Mariko said, repentantly.  He was right, after all.  But without her, would he have made it back alive?  He probably would have.  His story about being in the Guards had to be literal truth, even if it was incomplete.  He would probably have managed to avoid attracting attention altogether if he hadn’t had to worry about her.  “What
was
that army doing there?”

“I wish I knew,” Fitz admitted.  He looked at her for a long moment, the light playfulness gone from his eyes.  The stranger looking at her was far more dangerous than anyone she’d met in her entire life, even Carlos.  “I picked up a rumour on Diaphone and followed it to Dorado, but my attempt to track it down cost my ally his life.  Don’s life wasn't worth what few clues I managed to salvage.  I couldn't even recover his body for a proper burial back home.”

“Your former pilot,” Mariko guessed.  Fitz nodded.  “That’s why you needed us, isn’t it?  You needed to maintain a cover of aristocratic uselessness.”

Fitz chuckled.  “Something like that,” he agreed, with another glance at his counter-bugging device.  “If I’d actually been identified as Don’s partner, I would have had to haul ass out of there and sneaked back in through another starship, probably with a much better disguise.  But instead I got to maintain my cover...”

“Unless they did penetrate it and just wanted to see what you would do,” Mariko said, slowly.  She had read enough spy novels to know how the business worked.  “They might have been looking for your contacts...”

“Nothing is ever certain in this business,” Fitz agreed, sardonically.  “Yes, they
might
have identified me.  But the alternative is pulling out and hoping that someone else will be able to figure out what’s going on here before it explodes in our face.”

He shook his head.  “Two more minutes before the bugs in this compartment penetrate my cover,” he said.  “Luckily, they’ll assume that we were sharing some pleasure instead of talking about anything else.”  He turned and winked at her.  “Don’t say anything else out loud until we’re back on the ship.  You never know who might be listening.”

Mariko was shocked.  “Lady Mary bugs her own guests?”

“It’s the simplest way to get inside information she can use,” Fitz said.  “Just because she’s thousands of light years from Homeworld doesn't mean that she’s not interested.  And everyone knows it, of course.  Sorting out the truth from the deliberate falsehoods will take her weeks, if not months.  Luckily, everyone knows that Lord Fitz is pretty much useless...”

He patted her shoulder, a curiously intimate gesture.  “I’ll tell you everything once we’re back on the ship,” he promised.  “Until then, keep your mouth shut, even when you think you are alone.  Understand?”

“Yes, Milord,” Mariko said.  She stepped out of the shower and started to dry herself with a towel.  “I won’t say anything, even to Mai.”

***

“Wake up,” Mai said. 

It felt like seconds after Mariko’s head had hit the pillow and she’d closed her eyes.  Her dreams had tormented her, constantly reminding her of how much could have gone wrong when she’d followed Fitz, or what could still go wrong in the future.  They might be in worse danger than they’d been when Carlos had arranged for them to be enslaved and indentured. 

“Come on, lazy bones
,” Mai demanded. “Wake up!”

Mariko pulled herself out of bed, biting down the reaction that came to mind.  Mai had had nine hours to sleep; Mariko had barely had four before it was time to wake up.  Sunlight was streaming in through the window, bright enough to dispel everything that had happened last night as a dream...except that her overalls were missing and her body ached everywhere.  She staggered into the shower, washed herself thoroughly, and then dressed in the safari outfits provided by Lady Mary’s people.  A tight shirt, so tight that it displayed the outlines of her breasts for all to see; a pair of shorts and a single metal hat.  None of the outfit suggested that it would provide much protection against wild animals, let alone humans with guns and bad intentions, but perhaps that was the point.  Tuff’s dangerous reputation only added to the thrill the aristocracy felt at hunting in the planet-wide jungle. 

She’d felt absurdly self-conscious in the tight shirt until she realised that it was actually one of the more modest outfits in the complex.  The twins, who had been making eyes at Fitz as if they expected him to drop everything and jump into bed with them, wore outfits that only covered their nipples and the little patch of hair between their thighs.  They made thongs seem modest...and they weren't even the most exposed!  A handful of girls who were clearly servitors, rather than aristocrats, wore skirts made out of leaves and left their bare breasts visible for all to see.  Mariko couldn't decide if they were dressed that way to add primitiveness to the entire scene, or if someone had ordered them to lure as many of the older aristocrats into bed as possible.  Who knew what some indiscreet pillow talk could tell Lady Mary?

“Come along,” Fitz said.  He too was wearing a safari outfit, although she noticed that his managed to cover up the little hints of augmentation that would be visible to a skilled eye.  “We’d better get some breakfast before it all goes down Lord Randolph.  He just comes here for the food.”

Mariko smelled the food on the mansion lawn before she actually saw it.  Great carcasses, some from animals she didn't recognise, were being roasted over vast fires powered by locally-gathered firewood.  A hundred tables had been set out for the eaters, although most of the aristocrats seemed to prefer to walk around carrying their plates so they could talk to friends and cut enemies dead.  One man, wearing black robes and a grey hat, was merely sitting at the end table, scowling around him with an expression of fixed doom and gloom.  Mariko couldn't understand what he was doing there, or why he was scowling.  Did he think that the revelry was going too far?

“He’s a denier,” Fitz said, as they queued for great steaming hunks of meat.  “His family has been pushing for reform for the last seven hundred years.  They might have made headway if they hadn't been so keen on granting aliens more rights than they generally get under the Imperium’s Constitution.  Instead, they get cut out of every social occasion worth mentioning.  If they weren't so rich and powerful, someone would probably have accused them of treason by now.”

Mariko looked over at the Denier and then back at Fitz.  “So why is he here?”

“Maybe it’s a way to remind people that his family still has power,” Fitz said.  “Or maybe he’s here to strike a private deal with Lady Mary.  Anything is possible here.”

Mariko said nothing, but she thought hard.  Whoever had built the army in the jungle clearly didn't care about the laws forbidding giving aliens weapons.  And the Deniers clearly wanted to grant aliens more rights.  Could there be a connection there? 

She looked out over the field of aristocracy and began to see patterns.  Some aristocrats stayed close together, sharing meaningless chatter about nothing as they ate their food; others refused to even
look
at other groups, as if they were reluctant to even acknowledge their existence.  Fitz seemed to be among the few who could move from group to group without incurring any enmity, although few of their conversations were important.  Most seemed to want to chat about the upcoming hunt, and acted as though they had already single-handedly slaughtered most of the planet’s animals already. 

Mariko looked over at the forbidding jungle and wondered how many people would survive the day.  Most of them, probably.  The hunters would have guns, motion sensors and other advantages the animals couldn't duplicate, no matter how intelligent they were.

“I tell you, Fitz, there’s nothing that beats the lakes on Poseidon,” one young aristocrat said.  He’d captured two of the serving girls and was playing with them while stuffing himself upon meat and bread.  The girls didn't look too keen on being the subject of his attentions, but at least they weren't being forced to serve drinks and appear pretty for the guests.  “Moonlight on Poseidon. You’ll be sure to find a pair of legs opening for you, it’s so romantic.  And then you are guaranteed a night of pleasure on one of their boats.”

He laughed as he quaffed something that smelled like strong ale.  “They have the craziest boat drivers in the universe,” he added, with another laugh.  “You’ll be sure not to keep your lunch if you eat before boating...”

“The Master is correct,” a dour-faced man said, beside him.  “Poseidon is known for its boating adventures.”

Fitz nodded, smiled politely, and left the young aristocrat to his breakfast, walking towards an older-looking woman who had clearly decided to forgo the body-shaping that gave Lady Mary and her fellows the bodies of younger women.  “Four more attacks in as many months,” she said.  “I’m telling you, Fitz, they just don’t take the Rebel seriously.  Those damned Secessionists are cutting right into Archie’s profits.”