“Get up,” Xochitl snapped irritably. “Tell us-tell me-what you saw and how you survived.”
Helsdon breathed in deeply. This isn’t the real thing, it’s only a story about what happened to another person. Just another debriefing. Nothing can reach me here.
“Light of Heaven, I was going EVA to repair a thermocouple relay,” he began.
He related the momentary glimpse of the “blurred thread” which cut Calexico in half, leading to so many deaths, and then the long desperate struggle to stay alive in the wreck of the destroyer. Eventually-and by this time his voice was hoarse-another Imperial Scout ship had arrived and recovered him.
When Helsdon finished, he found himself rubbing his hands on his trousers. Why do they sweat so much? Then he stood in the awkward silence, trying to focus on the Prince. The room had darkened into night cycle as he’d talked, and now Xochitl was only a vague shape, his light-colored mantle a lesser shadow in the gloom.
“Thank you, Engineer Second.” Xochitl stood up slowly.
Wish I could see his face better. Didn’t he believe me?
Xochitl spoke to the air: “ Kikan-shi Helsdon is ready to return to the research station.”
Helsdon’s mind-which seemed oddly fogged-cleared at the thought of returning to work. Now there it is again. A sound like a tubercular breathing; such sharp, short gasps. Where is it coming from?
But then the Jaguars entered and escorted him, gently this time, away.
In the darkness, when the door had closed, Xochitl threw himself down on the sofa and passed his hand over a side-lamp. A dull, orange-tinted glow sprang up and the Prince raised an eyebrow questioningly at the largest of the screens at the back of the room. A pair of lambent, angular eyes gleamed back at him.
“Satisfactory, Esteemed?” Xochitl strove to put the proper deference into his voice, but knew in his heart there was only truculence and barely suppressed anger in the words. “Or shall I interview another?”