Юн Ли - Revenant Gun

Jedao drifted over to the shrine and peered through the protective casket without touching it. “ How to Care for Your New Snowbird 823 Refrigerator ,” he read. “I’ve always wondered why Kujen kept this around. His first job maybe? I looked up the model and couldn’t find anything, but the heptarchate was a big place, and it might just be that old and obscure.”

“Surely you didn’t come here to research refrigerators?” Hemiola said. Whatever those were.

“Surely not,” Jedao said without really agreeing. He looked around at the unoccupied couches. “It’s changed so little.”

“We kept everything the same,” Hemiola said.

“Of course you did,” Jedao said. “Kujen always liked things to stay the same.”

“I had another question,” Hemiola said.

Jedao’s attention shifted from the display case to Hemiola with a promptness both gratifying and disturbing. “Go on.”

“I don’t suppose you brought any dramas with you?”

Jedao didn’t laugh. Instead, he said, very seriously, “I have a collection back on the voidmoth. My traveling companion, a servitor like yourself, thinks I have abysmal taste in entertainment, but maybe something will suit you. If there’s something in particular you’re looking for, maybe I can find it. I can’t make any guarantees, though.”

“That’s fine,” Hemiola said.

“You still haven’t told me what you want me to call you.”

“I’m Hemiola of Tefos Enclave,” it said, wondering which enclave the traveling companion came from and if it was one of the ones that had a treaty with the Nirai servitors. “Let me help you make a copy of the records.”

“Thank you, Hemiola,” Jedao said gravely. “Much appreciated.”

KUJEN PROVIDED JEDAO with more briefing materials, then excused himself. Jedao tried to hide his impatience as he waited for the door to close. It wasn’t as if he could shoo a hexarch out.

The first thing Jedao did once Kujen was gone was locate the bathroom. Good: it had a mirror. His face was older, with the beginnings of wrinkles at the corners of his brown eyes. His hair was still black, with no white hairs, and he wondered cynically if he dyed it. He stripped and examined himself critically. At least this time he was prepared for the scars. As for the rest of his body, he didn’t know what to make of it: broader in the shoulders and chest, enough muscle everywhere to suggest he’d led a strenuous lifestyle. Jedao pulled a face at his reflection, then got dressed again.

After that, he spent a bemused few moments poring over the Kel code of conduct before discovering that he had significant portions of it memorized: seating arrangements at high table; hairstyle regulations—he was going to need to trim his bangs soon; the prohibition of sex between Kel, punishable by death. Instant learning, a trick Ruo would surely have envied. Too bad he couldn’t rely upon it for anything else. Then he settled in for a lot of reading.

Jedao fell asleep without realizing it and woke to music. At least, he assumed it was music. Whatever it was, with its buzzing basses and plucked arpeggios, it had a beat too fast for marching to. He squinted at the ceiling and walls as he massaged the crick in his neck. Light glowed from the candlevines, since he hadn’t asked the room to turn them down. The grid informed him in a serene voice that the hexarch would be joining him for breakfast in twelve minutes.

“Shit,” Jedao said to the room. Why hadn’t it woken him earlier? He used up seven minutes taking a shower. Trying to do so while not looking too closely at his body, because it freaked him out, proved awkward. When he emerged, he discovered that someone had added more underwear to the dresser while he was asleep, also disconcerting. Disturbingly, the uniform had pressed and cleaned itself during the shower. Did it have instructions to eat him if he misbehaved? Despite his misgivings, he put it back on.

Combing his hair took no time, so he used the next four-odd minutes reviewing the speech he had put together for the Kel, in case Kujen planned to introduce him to them soon. It would go over as well as a bullet to the belly, but not giving a speech would be worse. He was sure the Kel liked speeches. After familiarizing himself with the strategic overview, the swarm’s status, and Kujen’s objectives, he’d spent a great deal of time making the speech as concise as possible without leaving anything important out.

Kujen arrived on schedule. The grid didn’t announce him; the door simply opened. Jedao had expected this. What he hadn’t expected was Kujen’s companion, a massive man even taller than Kujen was. His coal-dark skin made Kujen look even more pallid. He wore the Kel uniform with a certain matter-of-fact dignity. The four-claw insignia of a major gleamed from his left breast.

The major looked straight at Jedao. His eyes widened. Then he saluted, very correctly, although his gaze flickered to Jedao’s half-gloves. Shouldn’t the Shuos eye in his insignia explain everything?

Unless I’m a clone and the original is supposed to be dead? Jedao wondered. Had the major known the original Jedao?

The barest flicker in the major’s eyes suggested, if not distaste, a healthy ambivalence. Jedao groaned inwardly. He couldn’t blame the major, who no doubt hated being saddled with a stranger, but that didn’t mean he was looking forward to working with people who disliked him.

Kujen, decadent in a black satin jacket framing a gray brocade shirt, smiled down at Jedao. Silver rings glinted in both ears, and strands of pearls and onyx beads circled his throat. “I’ve brought you your aide,” he said. “Major Kel Dhanneth. I thought this would be a good time to make you a gift of him.”

The major’s expression didn’t waver, but Jedao said, “Kujen, I’m not sure people are gifts ?”

“As idealistic as ever,” Kujen said fondly. “Suit yourself. Will you at least let the major join us for breakfast? Or are you going to consign him to Kel food? Since you care about details like that.”

Jedao finally remembered to return the Kel’s salute, feeling like an impostor. “Major Dhanneth. Er, at ease.”

“Yes, sir,” Dhanneth said in a rumble. Dhanneth’s eyes were no longer so wide, but they tracked Jedao with eerie intensity. Jedao wondered if he’d imagined that hint of distaste.

“Do you have an opinion on breakfast?”

The question threw Dhanneth. After a moment, he said, “I will eat whatever you wish me to, sir.”

“I can’t argue with your priorities,” Jedao said, deciding that smiling at Dhanneth would only spook him. “Kujen, I assume you’re the one with preferences, so pick something.”

“You’re going to insist on eating at high table once we get underway,” Kujen said, “so we might as well indulge while we can.” He took the same seat he had yesterday and summoned up a menu.

Jedao pulled up a chair for Dhanneth, meaning only to be polite. Dhanneth raised an eyebrow, and Jedao was reminded that he theoretically outranked Dhanneth. “Go ahead,” Jedao said, since done was done. “Sit.”

“As you like, sir.” Dhanneth did so, and continued to regard Jedao intently.

No help for it. Jedao waited for Kujen to pause over some decision—the beverages?—then said, “What about staff?”

From Dhanneth’s sudden tension, he’d asked the wrong question, or a right one.

“This swarm was originally commanded by a lieutenant general and two brigadier generals,” Kujen said. “I had to remove the lieutenant general, so the swarm is yours now.”