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She lifted her eyebrows.
"Could prove it. Will. Maybe. Later."
He glanced back out the bubble window, the only outside view from the
dwelling.
The Imperial officer took the time to study the structure, noting the
fit of the native logs, squared so evenly that there seemed to be no space at
all between them. The wide plank flooring showed the same care, despite the
hollows worn by years of use. There was more than enough light, thanks to the
four skylights. The more she studied the structure, the more she began to
realize the effort and design that had gone into it, an effort and design that
seemed strangely out of place on Old Earth.
She shook her head. There were so many strange examples, as she was
learning all too quickly.
This hideaway south of the Recorps Base was yet another, a seemingly
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rustic cabin whose design, orientation, and construction demonstrated more
expertise and knowledge than she had expected, far more.
Her attention drifted back to the man, now regarding her with an amused
smile, as if he had read her thoughts. He was clean-shaven, and the faded gray
tunic and trousers, once probably of Imperial issue, were spotless, though
worn.
"It's said you're native to Old Earth," she began.
The amused smile remained, and she did not realize she had stepped
backward until her shoulders brushed the wood behind her.
"It's also said that you were an Imperial officer for a long time. One
rumor is that you once commanded the Recorps Base."
"Who would say anything that fantastic? Never commanded the Recorps
Base."
"The Maze people . . . some of the older New Denv families . . ." She
tried to match his light tone.
He sat upright, leaning forward. "Every place has its stories. When it
doesn't, it's dead. Nearly that way here once. Now they tell stories."
In a silent flash, he stood upright, next to the swivel, which slowly
returned itself to a position not quite upright. His feet, wearing
Imperial-issue boots, had not made a sound as they hit the wooden floor.
"What do you really want?"
What did she want? To track down a rumour? To chronicle the debunking of
a myth to put the Service at ease? She shook her head again. Her mission
seemed less and less clear.
"Your thoughts, your recollections about how things really were," she
said, trying to recapture the sense of purpose that had driven her to Old
Earth, back to a forgotten corner of a world the Empire would just as soon
forget.
She took a step sideways, as much to remind herself that she would not
be backed into a corner as to get closer to the former officer, and waited for
his response.
His eyes raked over her again, as if he could see beneath the undress
tunic and trousers. She could see his nostrils widen, as if he were drawing in
some scent.
Hawk or wolf . . . or both?
"You smell familiar."
"Familiar?" Istvenn! He's got you off-balance and keeping you there. "I
don't see how. I've never been here or on Old Earth before."
His lips tightened, and his eyes narrowed.
"Could be. But somewhere . . ."
"Is it true you were an Imperial officer?"
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"True as anything else you'd hear." The intensity with which he had
regarded her subsided, and he turned so that he faced neither her nor the
bubble window, but a narrow tier of inset wooden shelves that reached from
ankle height to the base of the roof beams.
Her eyes followed his. She could see that a number of the antiques on
the shelves were actual printed publications, which indicated their age.
Printed pubs were used only on frontier worlds or in remote locations where
the use of energy for a tapefax or console was not feasible, and there had
been sufficient energy on Old Earth since the rediscovery.
Without being able to read the faded letters on the spines of the
volumes, she knew that most were Imperial manuals.
"Why did you leave the Service and settle here?"
He gestured toward the wall behind her, then laughed a short laugh.
"Nowhere to sit."
"It's not really necessaryù"
He brushed past her and did something to the wooden panel behind her.
The lieutenant stepped aside as the blond man lowered a double width bed
from the wall and pulled a quilted coverlet, red and gray, from a recess over
the bed, and spread it over the Imperial-issue colonist's pallet.
She could see his nostrils quiver as he straightened and motioned toward
the couch/bed.
"Still familiar." His low statement was made more to himself than to
her.
He frowned, but with three quick strides returned to the swivel and
dropped into it, turning toward her as he did.
"Two questions. One asked. One unasked. Last first. The Imperial
supplies? Maintain some credit balance at the base. Lets me buy what I need.
First last. Why here? Nowhere else to go."
His words answered one question, but not the other. Only a retired or
disabled member from Recorps or one of the Imperial Services had
base-purchasing privileges. But he had not answered why he had settled on Old
Earth.
"Why did you settle here?"
"Why not? Didn't settle. Born here. Not that anyone would remember. No
place for me in the Empire. No place for me in Recorps, either. Not when all
the barriers are crumbling."
"Barriers?" The single-word question tumbled from her lips. Why did she
sound like such a simpleton? Why? Why? Why?
"You can take the stress so long. Had to be civilized. That meant
barriers . . . if I wanted to survive. I built them, but not strong enough.
Time wears down all walls. Remember. Grew up when the shambletowners hunted
the devilkids."
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"Shambletowners?"
"Old Mazers . . . what they called them then."
She could see that the hardness was gone from his eyes, the terrible
intensity muted, misted over.
The lieutenant waited for him to go on, wondering why he was so obsessed
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