To Maratha
© 2023 by Walter Reimer
(Stanislaus Coon, Ivar Vargsson, and The MacRuari of That Ilk are courtesy of E.O. Costello.)

Thumbnail art by  tegerio



Four days after I returned to the headquarters planet for Directorate III (Counterintelligence), I was sitting in the office of my therapist, Dr. Nushaar. My fellow feline had a ready and sympathetic ear, as well as being a soothing balm for the eyes, two things that I felt I needed as I prepared for the next stage of my investigation.

That investigation, I hasten to remind the reader, centered on a gardener employed at the Imperial estate on the planet Maratha. The gardener, a tiger named Moka Bustani, had somehow attracted the attention and attendant suspicions of the overall commander of Terra’s military. That worthy, another tiger, told the Director of Intelligence of his concerns; ‘M’ had passed the dossier on to my immediate superior, Commander the Lord MacRuari of That Ilk, who had given the case to me.

“This is the third time in four days you’ve asked to see me, Captain,” Dr. Nushaar said. “I’m inclined to think that there’s something on your mind that you haven’t shared with me yet.”

Perceptive of her. I could feel Ivar gently urging me on, and I said, “Yes, there is, Doctor. I’d always thought that Terran politics, whether Confederation or Imperial, were more than a little malodorous,” and I paused as she chuckled at the adjective, “but I never realized just how bad things had gotten until I visited Terra and saw the state of things with my own eyes.”

“Species stereotypes notwithstanding,” Ivar remarked, “the smell was nothing I would wish to be associated with.”

Nushaar nodded, her tail swishing. “Of course. And having almost being murdered would tend to reinforce that.”

I rubbed the back of my head. “Yes, it would.” I sighed and said, “I’ve found myself thinking of home.”

“Home?”

“Yes. My home planet, where I was simply a cop, and the worst thing I had to do was hoick somefur off the street for lifting a rich old femme’s purse.”

“We shall take my mild disapproval as read,” Ivar huffed.

“Hm. And do you think that these memories are significant?”

“Yes. Deep down, I am thinking that I should retire.”

That caused Nushaar’s ears to go flat as her eyes widened. “Retire?”

“Yes. Resign my commission – the war’s over, and I was only seconded to Counterintelligence for the duration – and go home. Maybe stay on the police force, or retire.”

“Are you old enough? To retire, I mean.”

I shrugged. “Probably not with enough of a pension that I could afford to not work. But I’ll think of something, I guess.”

“You haven’t thought this all the way through,” she said. Was her voice softening?

“No. No, I haven’t.” I smiled at her. “Perhaps I could – oh, I don’t know, go on the media. You know, the fellow who inspired Secret Service Fur,” I said, and I laughed.

The laugh had an edge to it, and I felt Ivar’s worry as I teetered momentarily.

I blinked, and saw Dr. Nushaar looking across her desk at me, not with the look of professional concern I had grown accustomed to seeing, but an expression of care and genuine worry. “Are – are you all right?” she asked.

I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Sorry,” I said, opening my eyes. “This assignment’s been a little stressful.”

“I am always in awe of your gift for understatement,” Ivar said. I imagined him mopping his brow, his usual composure shaken.

A paw rested on my right shoulder, and I flinched slightly, looking up at her.

How had she managed to move out from around her desk so quickly?

I got to my feet and faced her as she said, “From what you’ve told me,” she said, “you’re leaving tomorrow.”

“That’s right, yes.”

“Is – is Ivar still with you?”

I smiled. “Always.”

“Good. You need to be able to protect yourself, Stanislaus.” My ears swiveled at her use of my name. “Please take care of yourself, and come back safely.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good.” She leaned in close and brushed a kiss across my left cheek, stepping back and looking flustered.

Me? I wasn’t sure how I managed to get back to my quarters. Must’ve been Ivar.

For his part, the mental image of the wolf smiled at me as he slouched against a far wall. “I merely prevented you from injuring yourself while en route, dear Stanislaus. Might I also offer some advice, as one mel to another?”

“If you’re asking me to inquire after a Soldier’s Farewell, Ivar – “

“Far from it, my dear fellow. But one cannot deny that the good doctor has shown certain feelings for you. Might I humbly suggest that you use that as an additional anchor.”

“To keep me sane, you mean?”

“To keep you focused,” the wolf amended gently. “You are going to be at a delicate point in your investigation, and you will need to bring all of your not inconsiderable skills to bear. And as for retirement – “

“It was just a thought, Ivar.”

“Nevertheless, it does pose a question as to whether retirement or resignation is an option at this point.”

“Well, I’ll try not to dwell on it until after this case is done, one way or the other.”

“That is the best possible option at this juncture,” Ivar said.

The following day at about eleven local a military transport escorted by a small group of cruisers and destroyers appeared in orbit, and the Commander accompanied me to the spaceport. Just before I stepped aboard the shuttle, the buck cleared his throat. “Yes, Sir?” I asked.

“I wanted to say, Captain,” the MacRuari said, “to be careful, but I know you’ll handle this delicately.”

I smiled. “I’ll try, Sir.”

“Good lad. We’ll discuss this when you get back,” and he stepped away as I boarded the shuttle.

The ride up was smooth, and I saluted as the airlock opened to reveal ‘M’ standing there, in uniform. “Sir,” I said.

“Captain,” the roebuck said, “welcome aboard.” He started down the corridor, and I hurried after him. “Your cabin assignment will be on your padd by now, I imagine, and we should be in Maratha orbit sometime after supper.”

“Good. Sir,” I added hastily.

‘M’ chuckled. “Want this over quickly?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“’If ‘twere done, ‘twere best done quickly,’” the Director said, and I felt Ivar raise an eyebrow at that. “It shouldn’t take very long, Captain. Bustani lives on the estate, and shows no sign of going anywhere.”

“That’s good, Sir. It saves effort.” I glanced around. “Is Colonel Mirsky - ?”

“Heh. No, Colonel Mirsky is still on Terra. You see, every Ministry is aboard here, and if any member of the Regency Council takes on an extra aide, well, one other must be excluded.”

“I understand, Sir.”

Cervine ears swiveled. “Do you? Speak freely.”

I thought before I spoke. “Thank you, Sir. You could have left a junior member of your usual entourage on Terra. By leaving Colonel Mirsky behind, you send a clear message to everyone that he’s been a bad puppy.”

‘M’ laughed. “That he has been, and he knows it. But have no worries about him.”

I didn’t.

I had worries about everyone else, starting with the roebuck.

“Tread softly, Stanislaus,” Ivar admonished me from the back of my mind.