Primary Inversion Read Online Free PDF Page A

thought.
           Diermeneas, my node answered.
           I regarded the woman. “Diermeneas? Skolian.”
           “Epanalabete?” she asked. My node gave that one as Say again?
           I gave it another try. “Diermeneas.”
           “Ah.” The lines in her forehead smoothed out, and she motioned for us to follow her. She took us to a small room with a table surrounded by nervoplex chairs. Three walls were blank, but the fourth had a large pane of opaque glass. I suspected the glass was transparent when viewed from the other side; the place looked like an interrogation room.
           After the woman left, Rex scowled at the chairs.
           I smiled. You don’t like the decor?
           He grimaced. It’s hard enough muting people’s reactions without having it multiplied by what we sit in.
           I brushed my finger over the back of a chair. Although nervoplex could do no more than react to muscle tension, empaths tended to interact with it, stiffening when it tried to relax us and relaxing when it tensed up. It set up a feedback loop that intensified whatever we were feeling. So really it just multiplied our own emotions. But Jagernauts were like sponges; other people’s feelings became ours. Even the most disciplined of us, soldiers who showed no response to most observers, experienced minute changes in posture and muscle tension when we picked up emotions.
           The door opened and a young man entered. He walked over to Rex and smiled, extending his hand. “My pleasure at your company,” he said in perfect Skolian. “I’m Tiller Smith.”
           Rex blinked at him, then looked at me.
           I think you put your hand in his and move it up and down, I thought.
           Rex grasped Tiller’s hand and pumped it vigorously. “Gracias,” he said, using one of the few Earth words he knew.
           Tiller winced, and extricated his hand from Rex’s clutches. “Mrs. Karpozilos said you wanted to report a crime.”
           Why is he talking to me? Rex thought. Can’t he tell you outrank me?
           Maybe he doesn’t know our military protocol. Aloud, I said, “Not a crime. We’re hoping to prevent one.”
           Tiller glanced at me, then at the arms of Rex’s jacket, then at mine. Finally he said, “I’m sorry—I’ve never really worked as an interpreter. I’m just a handyman here. I—well, I’m not sure how to do this.” He spread his hands. “I can’t even read your identifications.”
           Identifications? I peered at my jacket. Its only markings were a line of silver studs and the gold band around each of my upper arms that denoted my rank. Rex’s was identical except he had two narrower bands on each arm. Did Tiller mean our ranks?
           “I’m Sauscony Valdoria, Primary.” I motioned at Rex. “Rex Blackstone, Secondary.”
           Tiller gaped at me. “ You’re an Imperial Admiral?”
           I didn’t see why that was such a surprise. “Primary. It’s not the same thing.”
           “Isn’t Primary another word for Admiral?”
           “The rank is similar,” I said. “But it’s not the same. Primaries are Jagernauts.”
           “Super-fighters.” Excitement leapt in Tiller’s voice. “Telepathic computers, yes? I studied your—ah!” He hit his head with his palm. “I’m sorry. You didn’t come here to be grilled by me.”
           “That’s all right,” I said. It was rather nice to meet someone who didn’t wish we would go away.
           He motioned to the chairs. “Shall we sit?”
           Rex and I looked at each other. Neither of us made any move to sit. After a moment Tiller said, “I have a better idea. Why don’t you come to my office? I have some great armchairs there.” He glanced at the nervoplex seats and added, “Mine have cloth upholstery.”
           Smart fellow, this Tiller.