Fortunes of the Imperium Read Online Free Page B

whose military rank surpassed even my recent promotion. She perused the menu with the same serious concentration that she devoted to every task. At last, she raised an unfeasibly long finger and touched the menu.
    As host, each of my guests’ selections was forwarded to my console for me to indicate whether I needed to veto any. In such manner could impecunious swains decrease the impact of a date upon their pocketbooks, and, much more importantly, parents had the ability to naysay ridiculous impulses by their offspring. My mother had used that tactic on me and my siblings many more times than I would readily admit aloud. But I clicked on “permit all” at once. In fact, noticing that Plet had chosen an open-faced sandwich that I had often ordered, I added two bottles of a white wine that I knew went well with it. That choice was reflected around the table for all to see.
    That action freed the others to make their decisions. A roboserver arrived with the wine, uncorked it and presented it to me for my approval, then served it to everyone but Oskelev, who held up her hand.
    “Got a nav test scheduled later,” she said. “No caffeine, either.”
    “I respect your skills,” I said. “I am certain you’ll have no trouble with the test.”
    “I know!” the Wichu said. Her kind were notoriously impatient with elaborate manners or social niceties. I understood that, and took no offense.
    “I have a gift for each of you,” I said. I attempted to reach down into the pocket on the front of my right thigh, just above my knee, but it was simply too far away. With some embarrassment on my part, Plet retrieved the small parcel contained therein. I dispensed the contents, each of which had been labeled with their names. “One for each of you, specially designed by me from ancient drawings.”
    “But, what is it, sir?” Anstruther asked, turning hers from side to side.
    “It’s your lucky circuit,” I said. “It gives off waves of light, sound and heat that are particularly fortunate for you.”
    “It does what?” Plet asked.
    “It helps bring you good fortune,” I explained, to the enormous face that turned to me wearing an expression that denoted disbelief.
    “Is there any scientific basis to support that claim, sir?”
    I smiled at her ignorance. “While it is impossible to influence random events in one’s favor, lieutenant, the makers of these circuits employ quantum theory that certain elements, sounds and other input help crystallize unspoken wishes.”
    “It’s very pretty,” Anstruther said, examining hers. “It looks like a piece of jewelry.”
    “I am pleased to hear you say so,” I said, most gratified. Of all the ones I had had made, hers was the smallest, only the length of the first joint of her forefinger—a most harmonious and fortunate dimension—but the most colorful. Nearly invisible wires had been bent into configurations that I had found in a divination booktape eight or nine thousand years old in my family’s archives. At key points, miniature diode lights were affixed, as well as one speaker no larger than the lights. For her age, height and planet of birth, the book had demanded deep reds, one tiny white and three of deep ochre and one of teal blue. It emitted a low but soothing hum that would be perceptible only to the person wearing it.
    I would have thought that Oskelev would be openminded about such a gift. I had been surprised at how much royal blue light was dictated by the time and date of her birth, along with a single green light, a scattering of white and a few light blue lights. The sound it emitted was a form of pink noise, conducive to deep thought or relaxation. She examined it carefully, held it to her ear to check the aural portion, then put it into a side pouch of her harness, all without changing expression. Most Wichus I knew were much more outspoken than she was.
    Nesbitt’s circuit was more visible and the lights less obtrusive. A peridot-green LED sat at the