Chapter 7
Elvin Axabrast was unhappy. Of that, there could be no question. Garsina Oswight had known that he would not approve of her self-reassignment—ship to ship—during the flight from Planet Oswight’s surface. The old jack-of-all-trades body servant had been in Family Oswight’s employ since before Garsina herself had been born. Stubborn. Overly cautious. He’d been the one piece of freight Garsina knew she couldn’t throw off the moment she was out of her father’s sight. And now that they were finally speeding toward the distant Waypoint, massaging Elvin’s ruffled feathers was going to be a major chore.
“It’s been a long time since you went to space,” Garsina said to the old servant, across the small galley table where they sat. The civilian ship was thrusting at a comfortable half gee, giving everyone aboard the luxury of things sticking where you put them. Including plates and containers filled with food, drinking bottles, and disposable utensils.
“Aye,” Elvin said monosyllabically before sporking another hunk of meat and vegetable cake into his mouth.
“I would think even you might get excited for the change of pace,” Garsina continued, hoping to get the man talking—versus merely glowering.
“Excitement is fine,” he said, “when there’s no one around to look out for.”
“You could have just gone home, Elvin. If I’d ordered you to remain aboard the clipper, after it undocked, would you have obeyed me?”
“Not a chance! Your father would have boiled me in oil.”
“My father still thinks I’m fourteen years old.”
“You are fourteen years old. At least in his eyes.”
“How would you know? You’ve never been a father.”
Elvin’s eyes suddenly looked pained, and he went back to putting bites of his meal into his face.
“Sorry,” Garsina said. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I know your wife died with the baby who was never born.”
“Yourself and your two brothers were all the children I ever needed.”
“And your overwatch has been most appreciated, Elvin. I don’t want to seem ungrateful. My brothers and I…we love you, as much as anyone can love someone not by blood. But there comes a time when you have to let us go. All of us. You didn’t seem to have a problem with my brothers being sent abroad.”
“Going to the capital on Family business is not the same thing as shipping out for hostile territory,” the old man said, finally putting his spork down, and lacing his thick fingers together under his bearded chin. “You have to remember what I saw during my days in the war. Terrible stuff, aye. Blood, and death. That’s nothing I’d want you to have to experience, ma’am. No matter how eager you are to strike out on your own, and make your mark.”
Suddenly, there was a third person standing at the galley table’s edge. He was shorter than most men, with a slight chin, and a hint of moustache and goatee on his face. His clothing was designer brand. Expensive. While his manner seemed extraordinarily nonchalant for someone interrupting the private conversation of a First Family member.
“I am so terribly sorry to intrude, Lady Oswight,” the man said, his voice a bit on the high and nasal side. “But I’ve been looking for a chance to talk to you, ever since I came aboard.”
“You want I should make him piss off?” Elvin growled.
“No,” Garsina said. “This isn’t the Family yacht. We need to be mannerly. Don’t you recognize who this is? He’s the infotainer who came to do an extensive exposé on Planet Oswight’s orbital manufacturing facilities. Mister…Kalbi, isn’t it?”
“You’ve read me,” the man said, performing a small bow at the shoulders.
“Seen you,” Garsina corrected, but with a smile. “I wasn’t aware that the DSOD had granted permission for informationalists to accompany this mission.”
“I consider it an act of providence that I happened to be visiting your world at the precise period when the new Waypoint appeared in Constellar’s skies. There will be many infotainers eager to claim their piece of fame regarding this system we’re going to explore. But only one person gets to write the history of the first expedition.”
Elvin grunted unhappily. Garsina reached out a hand and put it over the old man’s fist, as it clenched on the table’s surface.
“You’ll have to forgive Mister Axabrast. His job is to ensure that I am kept happy and safe. Not every infotainer in Constellar has been kind to the First Families. Especially Family Oswight.”
“An adversarial attitude comes with the territory in my profession, Lady Oswight. Where the First Families are concerned, the concentration of so much wealth and influence into so few hands has always been cause for extraordinary scrutiny. Nevertheless, I am not here to pester you about your Family’s dirty laundry. I only have eyes for the adventure ahead. And I’d rather we participate on friendly terms, since I’ll be covering you—indeed, everyone who is part of this mission—until our return to Constellar space.”
“I think that’s a very professional attitude,” Garsina said.
Elvin still didn’t seem convinced.
“Thank you, Lady Oswight,” Zoam said, doing another small bow at the shoulders.
A man somewhat older than Zoam, but much younger than Elvin—and wearing a slightly-too-big DSOD blue-and-yellow uniform—appeared at the opposite side of the table. He was tall, with a face that featured both a strong chin and intelligent eyes—surrounded by premature wrinkles. Those eyes quickly surveyed the three of them before the officer spoke.
“Lady,” the man said, imitating Zoam’s shoulder-level bow. “I wanted to make sure that you’re satisfied with your accommodations up to this point.”
The officer’s voice had a practiced quality to it, at a pleasantly low, masculine register. Very different from Zoam’s.
“Yes indeed,” Garsina said, spying the rank pin on the DSOD man’s collar. “It was very generous of the ship’s captain to offer us the executive suite. Myself and Mister Axabrast would have been satisfied with business-class cabins, just to make you aware. So the added luxury has not gone unnoticed.”
“Excellent,” the man—lieutenant commander?—said smoothly. “If there is anything I or any other Antagean crewmember can do to make your journey more comfortable, please let me know.”
Garsina’s brow knit, but only for a moment. Then she snapped her fingers and exclaimed, “You’re the son of Wyograd Antagean! I saw you briefly before we boarded our clippers.”
“Wyodreth Antagean,” Zoam said, his tone polite, but with just a bit edge on his words. “You were the other person I specifically wanted to introduce myself to.”
“At your service,” Wyodreth said formally.
“As this expedition’s informationalist,” Zoam said, “I am hoping to have access to your ship’s crew.”
“For what purpose?” Wyodreth asked.
“I intend to live-document our expedition as thoroughly as possible. Including the thoughts and feelings of the civilians who have been…ah, how best to put it? Commandeered, for the voyage. Members of the military—yourself included—have an expectation upon them, regarding duty. But your crew? Today they find themselves compulsory participants in an adventure which might prove to be extremely dangerous. I’d like to see how they feel about that.”
“You’re welcome to talk to anyone you wish,” Wyodreth said, keeping his tone professional, “provided you do it off the clock. They’ve got enough adjustments to make, adapting to a heightened readiness status. Without having an infotainer poking around in their work while they’re on-shift.”
“That sounds perfectly reasonable,” Zoam replied, his eyes never blinking.
Those eyes, Garsina thought to herself. There was something about them she couldn’t quite put her finger on. If there had been tension on account of Elvin’s generally crusty demeanor, the flavor of the air had changed again with Antagean’s arrival. He clearly had no love for Zoam Kalbi. But why? The infotainer’s demeanor had been perfectly reasonable so far. Yet, he seemed to be setting something off, for both Axabrast and Antagean alike. Could it simply be a male thing? Garsina was experienced enough to know that some men simply didn’t mix well, regardless of the circumstances.
After a few seconds of silence had passed, Kalbi gave Garsina another bow, and excused himself from the conversation. Wyodreth’s gaze followed the man for a few moments, then the lieutenant commander returned his attention to Garsina herself.
“I’m afraid we’re going to be seeing a lot of him on this trip,” he said.
“Not necessarily a bad thing, I think. Somebody is going to have to tell this story, when it’s all over.”
“Let the infotainers tell their bloody stories,” Elvin groused, “and let the soldiers fight the bloody battles.”
“You seem to be a man who knows more than a little about the second part,” Wyodreth said.
“Please, have a seat,” Garsina said.
Antagean formally sat, his back erect and his attention focused.
“Mister Axabrast has been retained by the Family Oswight since my grandfather’s time,” she said. “Please forgive his coarseness. He was a decorated sergeant at the Battle of Faltarion.”
“Colour Sergeant,” Elvin corrected her, his voice warm in the way a father’s voice is warm when he’s talking to a favored child. “And the Lady does me too much credit. I was at Faltarion. And also Syberestad before that. But I just did my duty. No better nor worse than anybody else who fought. The best men and women…they’re still there. Buried. Or floating as freeze-dried husks in space.”
“If the tattoo on the back of your hand means anything,” Wyodreth said, pointing to the faded mark on the older man’s flesh, “it seems a bit more complicated. You’re one of the Dissenters—the people who refused First Family rule, when this was a virgin system. And the Dissenters got crushed for their trouble.”
“I see the lad knows his history,” Elvin said, his eyes wary. “What of it?”
“Well, I mean, I’m just a little surprised,” Wyodreth said. “I know there are many descendants of the original Dissenters who are presently working the Oswight shipyards and factories. But I’d never have expected to see a Dissenter in service to the Family Oswight proper.”
“Not good enough for yah, am I, lad?” Elvin barked. “You’ve got a lot of nerve sitting at the Lady’s table, and passing judgment.”
Wyodreth held up his hands, taken aback by the sudden outburst. Garsina could feel many pairs of eyes suddenly turned their way. A flush rose into her face.
“Elvin, I’m sure that’s not what the lieutenant commander meant,” Garsina said.
“Doesn’t matter what he bloody meant,” the older man said sternly. “He’s got no business here. This may be his ship, but while you’re aboard, he owes you his deference. Now, I suggest the lad picks up and goes, double quick, before I really lose my temper. I was fightin’ the damned Nauties with my bare fists before he was even a twinkle in his sire’s eye.”
With that, Garsina could tell that Antagean had been dismissed from Axabrast’s attention. The majordomo plowed back into his meal, sporking bites into his mouth without looking up.
Wyodreth’s cheeks had also become flushed. He suddenly stood.
“Very well. I’d wanted to forge a friendly relationship with our resident First Family party for this voyage. But I now see it’s going to be a strictly business affair. Fine. Lady Oswight, your comfort and safety are my top priority. Please inform any of the ship’s crew of your needs and requirements at any time, and those needs shall be met. If they are not met, please inform me directly, using your priority code on the ship’s internal network, and I will ensure that they are met.”
The lieutenant commander’s bow was much more pronounced than it needed to be—almost to the point of seeming mocking—and he disappeared from the space.
“God’s gift to the officer corps,” Elvin muttered through a mouthful.
“You don’t have to remind me how you feel about officers,” Garsina said, sighing, and shaking her head. If she’d felt offended by Antagean’s abrupt departure, that feeling was small compared to her discouragement over the fact that things were already getting off to a bad start. Elvin was her shield against the world, sure. But sometimes the man seemed to assume that the best defense was a good offense. And while he’d ostensibly acted in her name, she sometimes felt like he went overboard—speaking as if it were her honor at stake, when in reality, it was Elvin’s own status being questioned.
“You don’t have to prove anything to these people,” she said quietly, as she poked her spork at her own meal.
The old man swallowed slowly, then put his spork down.
“There’s always something to prove, Lady. Did you see the way that Antagean chap behaved? He’s got no respect for the First Families. I could see it in his eyes. You have to know these business types. It’s all about their bottom line. No doubt the DSOD is paying a fortune for Antagean’s ships, with Antagean’s crews. He ought to be happy with that, and show you some proper manners. Instead, he thinks you’re a nuisance. If I were a younger man, I’d give him a shiner to remind him of his place.”