Charles Stross - Singularity Sky

“That’s perfectly alright.” She pointed him down the corridor that led to the ship’s main service core.

“They don’t know about me yet. At least, not unless Archduke Michael warned them. Just take me to see the Admiral, and everything will be alright.”

Her luggage rolled quietly after her, on a myriad of brightly colored ball bearings.

The Admiral was having a bad morning: his false pregnancy was causing problems again.

“I feel ill,” he mumbled quietly. “Do I have to — to get up?”

“It would help, sir.” Robard, his batman, gently slid an arm around his shoulders to help him sit up. “We depart in four hours. Your staff meeting is penciled in for two hours after that, and you have an appointment with Commodore Bauer before then. Ah, there’s also a communique from His Royal Highness that has a most-urgent seal on it.”

“Well bring it — it — it in then,” said the Admiral. “Damned morning sickness …” Just then, the annunciator in the next room chimed softly. “I’ll just check that, sir,” said Robard. Then:

“Someone to see you, sir. Without an appointment. Ah — it’s a what? A —oh, I see. Alright then. He’ll be ready in a minute.” Pacing back into the bedroom, he cleared his throat. “Sir, are you ready? Ah, yes.

Ahem. You have a visitor, sir. A diplomat who has been seconded to your staff by order of Archduke Michael; some sort of foreign observer.”

“Oh.” Kurtz frowned. “Didn’t have any of them back at Second Lamprey. Just as well, really. Just lots of darkies. Bloody bad sports, those darkies, wouldn’t stand still and be shot. Bloody foreigners. Show the man in!”

Robard cast a critical eye over his master. Sitting up in bed with his jacket wrapped around his shoulders, he looked like a convalescent turtle — but marginally presentable. As long as he didn’t tell the ambassador all about his ailment, it could probably be passed off as an attack of gout. “Yes, sir.” The door opened and Robard’s jaw dropped. Standing there was a stranger in a strange uniform. He had an attache case clasped under one arm, and a rather bemused-looking commander standing beside him. Something about the man shrieked of strangeness, until Robard worked it out; his mouth twisted with distaste as he muttered, “Invert,” to himself.

Then the stranger spoke — in a clear, high voice. “United Nations of Earth, Standing Committee on Multilateral Disarmament. I’m Colonel Mansour, special agent and military attache to the embassy, attached to this expedition as an observer on behalf of the central powers. My credentials.” That voice!

If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was a woman , thought Robard.

“Thank you. If you’d come this way, please, my lord is indisposed but will receive you in his sleeping quarters.” Robard bowed and backed into the Admiral’s bedroom, where he was mortified to find the old man lying back on his pillows, mouth agape, snoring quietly.

“Ahem. Sir! Your Lordship!” A bleary eye opened. “May I introduce Colonel, ah—”

“—Rachel Mansour.”

“—Rachel Mansour”—he squeaked—“from Earth, military attache from the embassy! His, er, credentials.” The colonel looked on, smiling faintly as the flustered batman proffered the case to the Admiral.

“S’funny name for a c-colonel, Colonel,” mumbled the Admiral. “Are ye sure you’re not a, a — ah—” He sneezed, violently, then sat up. “Damn these goose-down pillows,” he complained bitterly. “And damn the gout. Wasn’t like this at First Lamprey.”

“Indeed not,” Rachel observed drily. “Lots of sand there, as I recall.”

“Very good, that man! Lots of sand, indeed, lots of sand. Sun beating down on your head, ragheads all over the place shooting at you, and not really anything big enough to nuke from orbit. Whose command were you in, eh?”

“As a matter of fact, I was with the war crimes tribunal. Sifting mummified body parts for evidence.” Robard went gray, waiting for the Admiral to detonate, but the old man simply laughed raucously.

“Robard! Help me up, there’s a good fellow. I say-ay, I never expected to meet a fellow veteran here!

To my desk. I must inspect his credentials!”

Somehow they managed to migrate the fifteen feet or so to the Admiral’s study without his complaining bitterly about the cost of maternity wear or gingerly inspecting his legs to make sure they hadn’t turned to glass overnight — one of his occasional nightmares — and the effeminate colonel discreetly slid himself into one of the visitor’s chairs. Robard stared at the man. A woman’s name, a high voice, if he didn’t know better, he could almost believe that—

“Duke Michael agreed to my presence for two reasons,” said Mansour. “Firstly, you should be aware that as an agent of the UN it is my job to report back impartially on any — I emphasize, any —violations of treaties to which your government is a party. But more importantly, there is a shortage of information about the entity which has attacked your colony world. I’m also here to bear witness in case they make use of forbidden or criminal weapons. I am also authorized to act as a neutral third party for purposes of arbitration and parley, to arrange exchanges of prisoners and cease-fires, and to ensure that, insofar as any war can be conducted in a civilized manner, this one is.”

“Well that’s a damn fine thing to know, sir, and you are welcome to join my staff,” said the Admiral, sitting upright in his bath chair. “Feel free to approach me whenever you want! You’re a good man, and I’m pleased to know there’s another vet-eteran of First Lamprey in the fleet.” For a brief moment, he looked alarmed. “Oh dear. It’s kicking again.”

Mansour looked at him oddly. Robard opened his mouth, but the foreign colonel managed to speak before he could change the subject. “ It ?”

‘The baby,“ Kurtz confided, looking miserable. ”It’s an elephant. I don’t know what to do with it. If its father—“ He stopped. His expression of alarm was chilling.

“Ahem. I think you’d better withdraw now, sir,” said Robard, staring coldly at Rachel. “It’s time for His Lordship’s medicine. I’m afraid it would be for the best if in future you’d call ahead before visiting; he has these spells, you know.”

Rachel shook her head. “I’ll remember to do that.” She stood. “Good-bye, sir.” She turned and departed.

As he was helping the Admiral out of his chair, Robard thought he heard a soprano voice from outside:

“—Didn’t know you had elephants!” He shook his head hopelessly. Women aboard the Imperial flagship, admirals who thought they were pregnant, and a fleet about to embark on the longest voyage in naval history, against an unknown enemy. Where was it going to end?

The Citizen curator was unamused. “So. To summarize, the Navy boys gave you the runaround, but have now allowed you on board their precious battlecruiser. Along the way, you lost contact with your subject for an entire working day. Last night you say he did nothing unusual, but you report patchy coverage. And what else? How did he spend that evening?”

“I don’t understand, sir,” Vassily said tightly. “What do you mean?” The Citizen scowled furiously; even at a forty-thousand-kilometer remove, his picture on the screen was enough to make Vassily recoil. “It says in your report,” the Citizen said with heavy emphasis, “that the subject left his apartment, was lost for a few minutes, and was next seen dining at a public establishment in the company of an actress . At whose apartment he subsequently spent a good few hours before returning to base. And you didn’t investigate her?”