Free Fortunes of the Imperium by Jody Lynn Nye

crew.
    “Yes, Admiral, ma’am!” Plet exclaimed, dashing a fierce salute. “Oskelev, Anstruther, right flank! Redius, Nesbitt, left flank!”
    “Aye, lieutenant!” they chorused. They took their positions, one fore and aft on each side of Mother. Plet rammed herself into place at the head of the group.
    “To the drinks tent,” Mother said, gesturing forward.
    “Ma’am, yes, ma’am!”
    Together, they marched off. Throughout the evening, I would see them in much the same configuration. The First Space Lord treated them as if they were a flock of chicks and she their mother hen. Gradually, they began to relax, and even enjoy themselves.
    I sincerely hoped they would. The chef was the finest I knew, hired away from Sparrow Island for the evening at colossal but reasonable expense. The food was a feast for the eyes long before its aroma touched the nose or the flavors and textures the tongue. A raft of pastries that I hoped would be sufficient for the growing throng came from a bakery that I had discovered in a part of Taino frequented most often by commoners. The secret was out, though, since the baker had pleaded with me to allow her to use her branded doilies and platters for the evening. Wines and spirits had come from the Kinago cellars. For those who knew good vintages, I needed to say nothing more.
    As for music and entertainment, the Edouardo V garden was large enough to accommodate three musical ensembles with audience seating, plus smaller venues for close-up magic, acrobats on trapezes, and comedians.
    Of the original three hundred people I had invited, I estimated that roughly six hundred and fifty had come. I was not in the least surprised. My cousins and I generally felt free to bring along whomever we wished to a casual event. Formal parties, such as weddings or diplomatic soirees, were considered inviolable, but a going-away bash had very elastic sides. I had purchased food and drink for a thousand, and prepared the Imperium staff to fetch more from selected vendors if necessary.
    At times like these, I missed my cousin Scotlin, but he had recently moved to the Castaway Cluster with his wife and children. We still corresponded as copiously as of old, but it wasn’t the same as having him there where I could clap him on the back. I cheerfully greeted our cousin Erita, who sniffed her way past the commoners in the crowd to offer me a fishlike hand. My great-aunt Nestorina sailed in. Behind her were her grandson, my cousin Nalney, and Nestorina’s fourth husband, Gorokomo. Goro was only two years my senior, but he, like everyone else, struggled to keep up with my energetic aunt.
    “My heavens, auntie,” I said, submitting to a fierce kiss on each cheek, “you look younger every year.”
    She smirked.
    “I should, silly boy. I’ve had every rejuvenation treatment known across the galaxy. Look at this complexion!” I surveyed a cheek as smooth as a debutante’s. “Three weeks of Dr. Salm’s special diet, and my skin is back to the same state as when I was twenty. You should try it.”
    “I was thinking of trying one to make me look older, auntie,” I said. “No one takes me seriously at this age.”
    She laughed. The nearest server swooped in upon her and offered a choice of colorful beverages. She chose pale orange. I turned to my next guests, a Wichu couple wearing brightly polished formal harnesses on their white-furred shoulders.
    “Ah, Ambassador!” I said, offering her a deep bow. “And your mate. I don’t believe I have met him before.”
    A thread of dance music met my ears from the most proximate of the bandstands. People from all walks of life—well, several walks of life; I did draw the line somewhere—were hopping and gliding together to a famous band just returned to Keinolt from a multi-world tour. I recalled that the ensemble had had their breakthrough performance at a birthday party here in the compound.
    “Thomas!”
    A stout man with a tonsure of black curls hailed me.