Downtime by Cynthia Felice Page A

be lost in thought. “Set course for Mutare just as
soon as we’ve passed detection range.”
    “Mutare?”
Roma said, surprised. “That’s a three-month trip, sir.”
    “That’s
why I needed Marechal to assure me six months. Wouldn’t do to have the
revolution start without its leader, now would it?”
    “Of
course not, sir, but . . . Mutare? I’m not even sure there’s a
ranger station there.”
    “There
is, and a new elixir garden, as well. Decemvirate thinks it has financed a
cosmic radiation research center expansion. In reality, they are processing
something that’s fairly well researched. Elixir. I want to be certain it’s
producing before the revolution starts. All the other production facilities are
on old worlds, you know.”
    Roma
nodded. “You fear the Cassells Fleet might destroy them and want a reserve
supply.”
    “They
won’t be destroyed. No one would harm any of the facilities because if they
did, they’d harm themselves as well. No, they’ll be fine. But supplies might be
cut off from time to time, especially if we cannot take all the worlds in one
fell swoop. The war would go on in some places for years. We won’t have enough
for our own people if that happens. Mutare’s facility will alleviate that
problem.” He leaned forward and handed over the vial to Roma. Her fingers were
cold in his hand as he encircled them with his own. “You won’t have to worry
about where your next dose is coming from. You’ll stay your thirty-five, no
gray in your pretty black hair.”
    “Yes,
sir,” she said, eyes downcast. Mahdi knew she would spit in his eye if the
delicate vial were not between their pressed fingers, but it amused him to make
her behave like a common thirty-five year old woman. Pity that the younger ones
weren’t vulnerable. They had to find that first gray hair, or notice that their
skin was no longer supple before they really believed that old age would come
to them. Men were no different, but he had no taste for young men.
    Mahdi
released Roma’s hand and sat back in the dais chair. “Do you like to hunt,
Roma?”
    “That
depends on the quarry,” she said, wary now.
    “Elusive,
fleet, and valuable. Danae, they’re called. An avian species indigenous to
Mutare. They are the source of crystallofragrantia. You know what that is?”
    Roma
shook her head.
    “It’s
a crystal that smells like perfume. The crystal can be cut into semiprecious
gems that are very attractive in themselves, and when the stone is treated, it’s
an everlasting source of fragrance. The diamond exchange in the Hub is paying
diamond-mass value. In its uncut natural state, it’s a gall on the danae’s
excretory organ. I hope to acquire one while I’m on Mutare, have it cut and set
into rings and such. The hunt will be a pleasant diversion before returning to
face the revolution.”
    “It
sounds fascinating, sir.”
    “How
about a manhunt,” Mahdi said. “Does that intrigue you, too?”
    “Sir?”
    Mahdi
nodded absently. “A detail inspection and a hunt should provide enough time for
us to engage in a manhunt, too. We must identify one person on Mutare who would
give anything for a supply of elixir. This person must be of sufficient rank to
supply us with any inside information we may need.”
    “I don’t
understand, sir. Is this installation on Mutare yours, or isn’t it?”
    Mahdi
shrugged and looked at his fingernails. “For the time being, the Decemvirate
controls elixir facilities. I was able to cause this one to be created, and
specify its location, but I didn’t staff it. The Decemvirate did.”
    Roma’s
fist tightened around the vial. “Do we have personnel records for the Mutare
staff?”
    Mahdi
frowned and shook his head. “We’ll have to identify this person when we get on
site. I want you to plan an inspection schedule that will provide all the
access we need to both people and records.”
    “I
understand.”
    “I
was certain you would.” He smiled benevolently.