“Mr. Sykes, it seems that he probably is what he says he is. On one hand, I promised that we would feed him a good dinner at our expense, which I will cover in the interests of comity, and on the other hand in two hours you can turn him over to an Embassy vehicle so soon as they present you with his passport or duplicate. Oh yes, either he is wired for sound, one of those gadgets on the ground is active, or someplace out there someone is watching with telescope and probably a parabolic mike.”
“How interesting. We were about to have lunch delivered from the Travelers’ Residences, so we will add one more for his benefit. Fish and chips even has an espionage component.”
“Yes?” Tara asked. “Espionage?”
“Once upon a time,” Sykes answered, “ there was an English dish known as Fish and Chips. By custom, it was served wrapped in old newspaper. As modernization advanced, this custom was abandoned. However, before then one fine day during a war a senior clerk in one of the English colonies went out, bought fish and chips from a stand, and discovered that the junior clerk delegated to destroy paper had instead been giving it to relatives to be reused as wrapping paper. After all, it was very clean paper, clean except for the extended notes on successful cryptographic attacks on enemy codes.”
BIG GAP HERE
Imperial Historical Research Center
Mogado
Stellar Republic
Patricia Daystar walked briskly up the stairs to the Imperial Historical Research Center. Supposedly, she thought, it was the largest library in the Galaxy. Imperial citizens could order research materials remotely. Anglic Union diplomats had to go physically to the library, their requests for materials being examined carefully before being granted. That was the point of this interview, to confirm that she was a legitimate diplomat and that her requests for materials did not touch on restricted topics. There were many restricted topics.
Her wrist comp pointed her in the needed directions. She finally reached a door secured by two Jinjurian soldiers. Army, she thought, from the dress uniforms. Jinjurians had run the Second Empire. After their catastrophic, unexpected defeat by the Stellar Republic, their military consisted of a ceremonial Guard Division, for protecting buildings on Mogado. The restriction to bolt action rifles, brilliant orange dress uniforms, and training focused on ceremonial marches somewhat limited their military effectiveness, thought the sight of a divisional march, three dozen soldiers wide, executing a flawless echelon turn impressed anyone who’d tried to practice echelon turns with their own military unit.
She stopped, six feet out from the door, executed a proper right face, and carefully did not show her teeth. “I’m here to see Library Inspector Trewlin,” she announced. “My wristcomp says this is the right room.”
“You would be Patricia Daystar?” the shorter of the two Jinjurs asked. He clanked from his accumulation of medals when he turned to face her. He held up his arm and wristcomp.
“I am indeed.” She held up her left arm. Wristcomps talked to each other. She took the moment to take in the other soldier, who wore a single medal. It was, however, a Star of Jinjur, of which very few had ever been awarded, period. “I am also Anglic Union Seldon Legion.” She faced the other soldier, and slammed her right fist against her chest. “I honor your bravery.” He returned the salute.
“Pass,” the first soldier said. “Pass with honor.”
“Extra folks inside,” the second soldier whispered.
