David Drake - When the Tide Rises

The local in velvet hunched at the slap and began to yowl. He fell silent when Barnes looked at him critically and said, "Mistress, would you like us to kick him a bit? I'm real sorry that happened."

"No, that's all right," Adele said. She was wearing her Grays, which didn't look like a dress uniform to a Bagarian. Having representatives from both communities on entrance duty should've avoided this problem, but she'd arrived late. "It's my own fault, I suppose."

Spacers weren't disciplined like soldiers or servants. Riggers in particular worked completely alone. They were no good to their ships if they didn't think and act for themselves, and they couldn't be threatened with any punishment that was worse than the risks they accepted every time they went out on the hull.

The Bagarian mewled; he'd raised his hands to cover his head against another slap-or worse. Dasi grinned and patted the fellow's buttocks. That brought another yelp.

"Cheer up, buddy," the spacer said. "If Tovera'd been here, you'd have a hole right between your eyes instead of a headache."

He and Barnes laughed. Adele smiled but didn't say anything further as she walked into the enclosure.

"I'd probably have asked the fellow to apologize," Tovera said through the bud in Adele's left ear. "On his knees."

She giggled. "Probably."

Tovera was on the roof of the Assembly Hall, observing the gathering electronically. The ear bud let her guide Adele to Daniel expeditiously through the rout, but Adele couldn't reply. Tovera had a parabolic microphone, however, which served much the same purpose as a two-way link.

Not even Tovera could really claim that Adele needed a bodyguard to walk into an upper-class party, but she was probably uncomfortable not to be within sub-machine gun range of any threat to her mistress. That was all right. Adele was often uncomfortable knowing that her servant might kill somebody beside her at any moment.

Tovera had her uses, though; and while she was in Adele's charge, she was less likely to do something that civilized people would consider horrible. Perhaps that counterbalanced some of the things which Adele herself had done and which she considered horrible.

"I see him, mistress," Tovera said. "He's at the northeast corner of the refreshment tent, the one nearest you. Wait, he went back under it."

"Yes, I see it," Adele said, turning toward the marquee. A small orchestra on the bandstand played a galliard; well, played at a galliard. There was probably a dancing floor of boards at that end of the mall.

The gathering she'd attended the first night had been a ball at the Theatre Generale. The men had all wanted to dance with her, and the women had watched her with envious determination to learn the latest steps from Cinnabar.

Rene Cazelet had attended also. He could've had his choice of partners: for a dance, for the night, or for as long as he stayed on Pelosi. Although Adele didn't have personal knowledge of, well, mating rituals, she'd observed them as she'd observed many other things.

Instead Rene'd spent most of the evening at their table, drinking sparkling water and watching Adele with almost the determination that Tovera showed. They both worry too much, Adele thought.

Rene'd danced twice with her, though. He didn't wear riding boots like the men on Pelosi, and he didn't plant his feet on top of her toes-also in contrast to the men on Pelosi.

Adele hadn't permitted him to accompany her tonight. She could slip in and out while wearing her 2^nd Class uniform, but if Rene came he'd draw attention even if he dressed like a servant. She didn't usually think in those terms, but he was obviously an attractive man.

"He's coming out from under the marquee," Tovera said. "He's with a local man. I'll have his name in a moment."

"Why, Adele!" said Daniel, resplendent in his Whites with full medals. "I didn't know you were coming tonight, and I'm delighted to see you. May I present Master David Power? He's supplying us with munitions."

Power was tall but even so heavy for his height. His tailcoat was either black or a dark red that turned black under the fairy lights; its hems and lapels were gold, and his trousers were gold as well. Like Daniel, he held a ten-ounce glass from which he'd drunk half the clear liquor.

Power looked at Adele, frowned, and said in a slurred voice, "Who's this, then? She's important?"

"She's Lady Adele Mundy, my good man," Daniel said mildly. "Mundy of Chatsworth, don't you know? Well, I suppose we can't expect Bagarians to be up on Cinnabar society, can we, Lady Mundy?"

He clapped the big man on the shoulder with apparent bonhomie. Daniel had certainly been drinking, but Adele could tell he was putting on the appearance of tipsiness to make forgivable what would otherwise have been a cutting insult.

The drink had really affected him, however. Daniel wouldn't have let the implied slight to Adele cause him to retaliate that way against an ally if he'd been fully himself.

"I'm incognito, Master Power," Adele said as brightly as she could manage. She wasn't angry with the fellow, but she was tired and she needed to speak to Daniel alone. "Admiral Leary should be more discreet. I trust we can count on you?"

"What?" said the local man, swaying. He was trying to stare at Adele, but his eyes didn't focus. "Count on me. Yes, count on me!"

"Might we get a drink, Admiral?" Adele said, gesturing with the fingers of her right hand. "Something's come up at the ship."

"Count on me!" Power said, wandering off. Instead of offending the fellow by ordering him away, Adele had said just enough to puzzle and bore him so that he left of his own accord. "Count!"

"He's gotten the contract to build missiles with plasma thrusters instead of High Drives," Daniel said, speaking in a low voice as they watched Power wobble into the crowd. "They'd be useless against warships, of course, but we can launch them from orbit into an atmosphere without antimatter destroying the nozzle in the first half mile. I think they'll let us force the Alliance forces to come up and fight-or smash them on the ground if they won't. Either way is fine."

"This was your idea, Daniel?" Adele said.

"Not mine, no," said Daniel with a satisfied smile. "But I brought the notion with me. Captain Burke used them on Grimmald and very kindly let me copy the plans before we lifted from Cinnabar. They're really quite simple, steel pipes full of water with a pump, a plasma thruster, and a very basic guidance system. Well within the manufacturing capability of Pelosi-or for that matter, any planet that can build water heaters!"

He grinned a little broader. "Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration," he said, "but they certainly can build them here on Pelosi."

The orchestra had begun playing an estampe which Adele'd heard on Cinnabar-not during her most recent landfall but when she was in Xenos two years before; now they shifted awkwardly into a tarantella. Was it a deliberate medley or had the players gotten their music scrambled?

Adele reached for her data unit while the back of her mind plotted routes to the solution of the puzzle. She caught herself.

"I'm sorry," she said, giving Daniel a smile that would've withered leaves. "I'm tired and I'm not concentrating well."

He didn't know what she was talking about. On the other hand, he did knowher. He nodded in calm acceptance, waiting for her to get to the point.

"Yes," Adele said, clearing her mind with the syllable. She resumed, "Rene and I have been going over the records of trading companies in Morning City. Coupled with information we brought from Diamondia, a pattern has become clear."

"The locals are cooperating with you?" Daniel said. "If so, I need coaching, becauseI'm certainly not getting cooperation."

"They're not cooperating, no," Adele said with another cold smile. "But their security isn't very good. And-"