“I just need to know if there’s any additional detail you can give me regarding this Two person,” Egan said.

“No, ma’am,” Lee said. “I never saw him or heard him except as a heavily treated voice over that PDA. You have all the files I made, and you have all the files on the PDA I took. There really is nothing else I can tell you about him.”

“Her,” Egan said.

“Beg pardon, ma’am?” Lee said.

“Her,” Egan said. “We’re pretty sure Two was Elyssia Gorham, the manager of the Lotus Flower, that brothel you found yourselves in. The office you found the PDA in was hers, and she would be able to keep anyone out of the basement level you were in. The rooms the three of you were held in were private function rooms for clients who either liked rougher pleasures or wanted special event rooms which would be built up and torn down quickly. That also explains the signal blockers. The sort of people who would rent those rooms would want to be assured of their privacy. In all it made it a perfect place to stash the three of you.”

“Do we know who drugged us in the first place?” Lee asked.

“We tracked it down to the bartender at the hofbräuhaus,” Egan said. “He said he was offered a month’s salary to drop the drugs in your drink. He needed the money, apparently. It’s a good thing he has it, since now he’s been fired.”

“I didn’t think we could be drugged,” Lee said. “That’s supposed to be one of the benefits of SmartBlood.”

“You can’t be drugged with anything biological,” Egan said. “Whatever you were drugged with was designed with SmartBlood in mind. It’s something we’ll be needing to look out for in the future. It’s already been noted to CDF Research and Development.”

“Good,” Lee said.

“On the subject of SmartBlood, that was some good thinking on your part to incapacitate your captor,” Egan said. “The idea to map your surroundings with sound is also clear thinking. You’ve been recommended for commendation for both actions. No promotion, sorry.”

“Thank you, but I’m not really concerned about a commendation or a promotion,” Lee said. “I want to know more about the people who killed Jefferson. When they were interrogating me, they were asking me a lot of questions about what I knew about separatist movements and groups wanting to align their colonies with the Earth instead of the Colonial Union. I don’t know anything about that, but it got one of my people killed. I want to know more.”

“There’s nothing really to say,” Egan said. “These are strange times for the Colonial Union. We’re busy trying to bring the Earth back into the fold, and in the meantime our colonies are trying to deal with events as best as they can. There’s no organized separatist movement, and the Earth isn’t actively trying to recruit any colonies. As far as we can tell, these all are the works of isolated groups. The one here on Zhong Guo was just a bit more organized.”

“Ah,” Lee said. She knew when she was being lied to, but she also knew when not to say anything about it.

Egan stood, Lee rising to follow her. “In any event, Lieutenant, it’s nothing I want you to worry about right now. Your commendation comes with two weeks of shore leave at your leisure. May I suggest you take it someplace other than Zhong Guo. And that you stay out of hofbräuhausesfor the time being.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lee said. “Good advice.” She saluted and watched Egan walk away. Then she closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the ship around her.

EPISODE NINE

The Observers

“Lieutenant Wilson,” Ambassador Ode Abumwe said. “Come in. Sit down, please.”

Harry Wilson entered Abumwe’s stateroom on the new Clarke,which was even smaller and less comfortable than it had been on their previous spaceship. “This is cozy,” he said, as he sat.

“If by ‘cozy’ you mean ‘almost insultingly cramped,’ then yes, that’s exactly what it is,” Abumwe said. “If you actually meant ‘cozy,’ then you should have better standards of personal comfort.”

“I did in fact mean the first of those,” Wilson assured her.

“Yes, well,” Abumwe said. “When you have your spaceship shot out from under you and your replacement starship is half a century old and put together with baling wire and gum, you make do with what you have.” She motioned to her walls. “Captain Coloma tells me that this is actually one of the more spacious personal quarters on the ship. Larger than hers, even. I don’t know if that’s true.”

“I have an officer’s berth,” Wilson said. “I think it’s about a third of the size of this stateroom. I can turn around in it, but I can’t extend both of my arms out in opposite directions. Hart’s is even smaller and he’s got a roommate. They’re either going to kill each other or start sleeping together simply as a defensive maneuver.”

“It’s a good thing Mr. Schmidt is using his vacation time, then,” Abumwe said.

“It is,” Wilson agreed. “He told me he planned to spend it in a hotel room, by himself for a change.”

“The romance of the diplomatic life, Lieutenant Wilson,” Abumwe said.

“We are living the dream, ma’am,” Wilson said.

Abumwe stared at Wilson for a moment, as if she were slightly disbelieving the two of them had actually just made a commiserating joke together. Wilson wouldn’t have blamed her if she was. The two of them had not really gotten along for nearly all the time he had been assigned to her mission group. She was acerbic and forbidding; he was sarcastic and aggravating; and both of them were aware that in the larger scheme of things they were hanging on to the bottom rung of the diplomatic ladder. But the last several weeks had been odd times for everyone. If the two of them still weren’t what you could call friendly, at the very least they realized that circumstances had put them both on the same side, against most of the rest of the universe.

“Tell me, Wilson, do you remember the time when you reminded me we had something in common?” Abumwe asked the lieutenant.

Wilson frowned, trying to remember. “Sure,” he said, after a minute. “We’re both from Earth.”

Abumwe nodded. “Right,” she said. “You lived there for seventy-five years before joining the Colonial Defense Forces. I emigrated when I was a child.”

“I seem to recall you not being particularly pleased that I reminded you of the connection,” Wilson said.

Abumwe shrugged. “You made the connection right as the Earth and the Colonial Union had their falling-out,” she said. “I thought you were making some sort of implication.”

“I wasn’t trying to recruit you, I swear,” Wilson said, risking a little levity.

“I wasn’t under the impression you were,” Abumwe said. “I simply thought you were making a joke in terrible taste.”

“Ah,” Wilson said. “Got it.”

“But as it turns out, this shared connection has landed us an unusual assignment,” Abumwe said. She picked up her PDA, activated it and pressed at the screen. An instant later, Wilson’s BrainPal pinged and a note popped up in his field of vision; Abumwe had sent him a file.

Wilson unpacked and quickly scanned the file, closing his eyes to focus. After a minute, he smiled. “The Earthlings are coming,” he said.

“That’s right,” Abumwe said. “The Colonial Union is worried that the Earth still has a lack of confidence in the transparency of our dealings with it. It’s worried that the Earth will eventually decide to go it alone, or even worse, start negotiations with the Conclave to join its ranks. So as a gesture of goodwill, it’s going to allow a party of observers unimpeded access to one of its current set of diplomatic negotiations. They’ve selected our upcoming trade talks with the Burfinor. I am told that the secretary herself believes that my personal connection with the Earth—and the connection of my staff, meaning you—will have a meaningful positive impact on the relationship between the Colonial Union and the Earth.”