know everything about me. Seems youâd have to be a part of colonial intelligence or armed forcesâ¦or that Instituteâ¦but why does anyone care?â
Cerla poured herself a goblet of a lime-green fluid and set the other glass back in the rack by the dispenser.
âAnything the Empire does affects us. How could anyone concerned not care?â
âSuppose youâre rightââ
âAnd you still havenât decided whether youâre going to play it straight. What other options do you have? We know who and what you are. Andâ¦â
âAndâ¦?â
ââ¦youâre intelligent enough to see that.â
Jimjoy was positive she had been about to say something else, but there was no way to determine what.
âReluctant to affirm or deny,â he said with a half smile. âIf I deny Iâm this Wright character, I have to spend forever proving I am who I am. And you wonât believe me. If I lie outright, thatâs trouble. If I agree, thatâs a confession, and people have been known to disappear for less. This Wright character sounds like heâs on everyoneâs hit list. Very popular man.â
âYou make a good point. Goodâ¦but irrelevant.â
As she spoke, Jimjoy eased himself forward in the depths of the chair, trying to shift his weight in a way not to seem too obvious, yet ready for action if necessary. He doubted that he could escape untouched, but he had to try.
Cerla ignored his tension and sat in the anchored swivel less than a meter away. After speaking, she sipped from the goblet, swallowed, and cleared her throat.
âI will make one further observation which might help you decide. While Accord is not unknown for its ability to obtain intelligence, the background on you was there for the taking, laid out. This leads to certain disturbing conclusions, which is why you were warned on Haversol.â
âWarned?â
Cerla said nothing, but waited.
âI see,â temporized Jimjoy.
âNot totally, but we can always hope that you will.â She stood, swiftly, though so gracefully that Jimjoy did not move. âAre you sure you wouldnât like something?â
âHow about some juice?â
The purser/agent filled the second goblet and tendered it to him before reseating herself on the swivel, one leg tucked under her.
Her posture reassured the Special Operativeâ¦slightly. The sink chair felt somehow sticky under him and he shifted his position again.
âSo where does that leave us?â he asked.
âYou refuse to admit anything, and weâre forced to take you on faith, at least in part. Assuming you are who we think you are, Accord would like to see that your visit is successful and that you return safely from our poor colonial outpost to your headquarters.â
âAnd how much will you hide?â He didnât bother with questioning their assumption of his being an Imperial agent. That was probably all that was keeping him alive, even if he were being stubborn and not wanting to admit it outright.
âNothing. We obviously will not volunteer anything, but should you find something or wish to observe something, we will certainly not hinder you in any way.â
âThat bad?â
âYes.â
âAnd who are âweâ? You talk about some group, but youâve never identified who you are.â
Jimjoy took a sip from the goblet. The green juice reminded him of a combination of orange and lime with a hint of cinnamon, except the combined taste was somehow whole and clean.
âWe?â he prompted.
âLet us just say that most of Accord has a vested interest in your safe return, including the colonial forces, the local government, and the Institute.â
Jimjoy wanted to shake his head. The situation sounded far worse than Hersnik or the briefing tapes had portrayed, and he wasnât even on Accord yet. Instead of commenting, he chose the
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