Fortunes of the Imperium (34 page)

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Authors: Jody Lynn Nye

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BOOK: Fortunes of the Imperium
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It was another death-penalty offense. Skana made a decision.

“No, let Enstidius do it.” She handed the device back to Tuk, who conveyed it to the eager Uctu.

“Just touch there, sir,” the Croctoid said, pointing with a sharp claw. “Just once.”

Enstidius didn’t hesitate. Jaws chattering with excitement, he brought his forefinger down onto the screen. At his touch, the switch blanked to brilliant white. The three cargo loaders rumbled forward under the skylights, their hatches humming open.

The Uctu army bounded forward. From the folds of their robes, under tables and in between the pallets of crates, they whipped out heavy-duty bolt cannons, long firearms and explosive grenades. Half the force surrounded their chief, weapons turned outward to repel an attack. The rest circled the vehicles, aiming for vulnerable points.

“Stop!” Skana shouted, gesturing for them to calm down. “This isn’t an invasion. This is your order. Get out of the way!”

The commanders of each squad stopped abruptly and turned toward their chief for orders. Enstidius waved them impatiently to the side. They withdrew, just in time.

As the doors to the containers scissored apart, heavy, fine, silver powder began to sift through the widening gaps, forming gleaming heaps on the floor. The sunlight falling through the shafts in the ceiling bloomed as it struck the cascade, casting speckles of light onto everything in the room.

“Behold your ships,” Skana said. It was a moment to enjoy. She never got to use words like “behold” in her normal life. The heaps grew, melding together in a glistening, heavy, featureless mass. Enstidius leaped up and rushed at her, his tongue flapping furiously.

“This is not what I ordered! You have betrayed me!” The army turned its weapons toward the Bertus. Her employees drew their own concealed firearms, all pointing at Enstidius. The Uctus backpedaled in haste, but kept their guns trained on the Bertus.

Nile grabbed Enstidius around the neck and put his sidearm to the Uctu’s temple.

“Hold still. Nothing is going to hurt you.” He gestured with his sidearm at the Uctus. “All of you, back down. You’ll love this.”

The powder formed an eddy, swirling, as it rolled into piles. Those heaped higher and higher, as though climbing onto one another’s back. Enstidius’s eyes widened until they looked as if they might bounce right out of their sockets.

“How?” he whispered.

Skana smiled.

“We told you they would assemble themselves. This is how it works.”

The heaps of metal were hollowing out inside, as the nanites, billions and trillions of them, formed the pilot compartments, the bulkheads, the control panels, the computer systems, the weapon systems, the engines, the power plants, and finally the bulkheads of five single fighter craft. It took a moment before Enstidius stopped struggling, then he stood there watching, his eyes huge, his tail switching from side to side in excitement. The rest of his force was just as captivated. The weapons held in their arms sagged to the floor, forgotten in the amazement.

It took almost an hour for the forming to cease, but no one moved. When it was over, there were no individual nanites left anywhere in the room, including in Enstidius’s own machinery, except those protecting Skana and her party. Oh, well, it was a design flaw, one they’d fix some day. The nanites had all, each and every one of them, gone into the place they were programmed to go, and filled in gaps with whatever material was available. Five war skimmers loomed dangerously in the dimly lit warehouse. Each was lightweight, strong, fast and deadly. On the floor in the center of their circle lay five dozen advanced pulse rifles. Those were restricted to the military in the Imperium, and unknown in the Autocracy. Enstidius went to pick one up. He threw the bolt action back to reveal the energy cartridge, gleaming inside the magazine.

“This is amazing technology. Undetectable.”

“Yeah, we’re still not sure why the skimmer and the other weapons formed before the ship reached Dilawe,” Nile admitted. “What the hell triggered it we don’t know. It had to be a rogue signal of some kind that approximated our program.”

Enstidius put the gun back onto the pile and gestured at it with both hands. “Make it do it again! I could watch that all day!”

“We can’t,” Skana said. It was a fib, but he didn’t know that. She had no intention of giving away all their trade secrets. “Once the program is set, the next command they’ll accept is the destruct code. And once you have paid us for that, you can have it.”

“Yes, I must have that!” Enstidius said, greatly excited.

“Give it to him,” Skana said. Nile tilted his head toward Tuk, who executed the message that had been queued up on his clipboard for months.

Enstidius grabbed up his personal screen and beamed at it.

“Absolutely do not activate that until you’re ready,” Skana warned him, as he marked the file and saved it off the screen. “You want to make sure you’re out of danger before you destroy the evidence.”

The Uctu master clutched the viewpad to his flowered chest.

“Once this comes to pass, I should not need to destroy them, but it is best to be prepared.” He gestured expansively to the Bertus. “I will take you to meet my ally! He will be as pleased as I am. You shall be our honored guests tonight and all nights in our new and glorious future.”

Skana and Nile exchanged smug grins.

CHAPTER 29

“It’s NAY-sur, my lord, not NAH-sur or NA-cre, as some of the vids suggest,” said Janice Galeckas, Imperium ambassador to the Autocrat’s court. The tall blond woman and her staff had met us on the landing pad as soon as Oskelev popped
Rodrigo
’s hatch. Ambassador Galeckas was tall, though not as tall as I, but more strongly built. She wore protective spectacles against the sunlight’s dangerous spectrum. Her long blond hair hung loose over her shoulders. She wore a flowing, floor-length skirt, slightly fitted at the waist. The neckline of her soft, coral-colored bodice was modest, displaying flesh no lower than the collarbone. One small brooch, with a cabochon sapphire in the center, was her only adornment. The long hand that reached out to clasp mine was ringless. As befitted not only an ambassador but one who greeted a cousin and envoy of the Emperor, she was surrounded by a number of attachés, hangers-on, clerks and go-fers. They all waited with us under a marquee that sheltered us from the glaring sunshine on the crushed tan gravel while the customs officials, all Uctu except for one large Solinian, examined the ship inside and out. “And this planet, the homeworld, Dilawe 4, is called Memepocotel. Accent on the third syllable. Moving the stress one syllable either way is incorrect. You’d be able to tell if you read it in the Uctu script, but the transliteration allows for too many potential errors.”

I rolled the name around on my tongue, finding it interesting but dry, like a crisp wine.

“What a mouthful!” I said. “I will endeavor to keep the pronunciation accurate. Is
Ya!
at fault?”

She hesitated, as I would have expected of a career diplomat.

“It’s . . . caused some confusion, my lord,” she said, which I took to be a deep understatement. “We have had to instruct some visitors so they wouldn’t cause offense. I would appreciate it if you would spread the word to the Imperium. It would make my job easier.”

I bowed slightly.

“Consider it spread.”

At last the inspectors withdrew. They presented a hexagonal device like a common viewpad to Ambassador Galeckas. She ran her right thumb down the lines of complicated script. The chief inspector tapped the screen with a clawed forefinger, and waved to his staff. They climbed aboard a covered cart and rolled away.

“What a pleasure it is to meet you, Lord Thomas,” the Ambassador said, favoring me with a firm handshake. “Do you mind turning this way?”

I had not been unaware of the obvious news crew that hovered nearby on an antigrav sled. The cameras, including two small self-powered orbs, took several angles of my entire crew as well as Jil and her friends.

I was inordinately pleased that the Ambassador had greeted me before any of my crew—or my cousin. Jil, dressed in a filmy wisp of nothing that had cost the equivalent of the entire wardrobe of Galeckas’s staff, cleared her throat at my shoulder. I took the hint, though I made her wait just a moment, to raise her blood pressure.

“Ambassador Galeckas, may I make you known to my dear cousin, Lady Jil Loche Nikhorunkorn? This is her and my first visit to the Autocracy. We look to you to guide us through the proprieties and curiosities. Do put us under your wing.”

“That would be my pleasure, Lord Thomas, Lady Jil,” she said. “Please call me Janice. May I introduce my partner, Stephanie Smith?” I bowed deeply to an even taller woman with a strong jaw. “My attaché, Donal Nirdan, and my chief aide, Vira Metcalf. The rest of my office staff.” Four earnest young people in formal tunics bowed to us. “We are all pleased to be at your service, day or night. I’m sending you a file with everyone’s addresses and Infogrid keys. Call on us any time, for anything you need.”

“So very kind of you,” I replied.

I continued with the introductions of my crew and coterie, beginning with Jil’s ladies in waiting and ending, as befitting the most important member except for me, with Parsons.

“Madam Ambassador,” Parsons intoned magnificently with a microscopic inclination of his head. The news crew all but bounced up and down on their little sled at his elegant pronunciation. “Ms. Smith. My lord, pardon my momentary absence.”

I nodded. I never questioned Parsons if he requested anything, with the exception of my favorite clothes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him sidle up to the three Uctus on the news sled. His voice was too low for me to hear. I would have to inquire later as to his purpose in addressing the reporters. I hope he was not forbidding them to video me! I had already been anticipating with pleasure finding the digitavid feed and linking it to my Infogrid page. Our cousins would be emerald with envy.

He returned on silent foot and listened as Janice laid out our itinerary for the next few days.

“. . . Any of us are available to guide you around the region to see the historic sights. You’re free to take any tour on your own with local guides, but my aide, Donal Nirdan, did an advanced degree in Uctu art and architecture.”

“Ah!” I exclaimed with pleasure. “Architecture was one of my past enthusiasms, though I retain an affection for form and execution of a good building. Please let us make an appointment, Mr. Nirdan.”

“Any time, my lord.” The fresh-faced young man—although I realized with a start that he was no younger than I—blushed. He tapped the screen of his viewpad. My pad pinged. On the screen was a schedule, I presumed, of his free hours. “Just let me know. It would be my honor.”

“The honor is mine,” I said, with a formal inclination of my upper torso.

Janice continued with her prepared notes. “The day after tomorrow you might want to do some clothes shopping. Later this week is the second anniversary of the Autocrat’s accession. You will all receive invitations. The custom is for guests to wear Uctu attire. The Autocrat and her court will wear Imperium garb.”

“Wonderful!” I exclaimed, for though I had a quantity of proper formalwear with me, it was never as comfortable as garments of my own choice.

“Well, I’m not interested in architecture,” Jil said, waving a hand. “I’d rather shop tomorrow. And the next day. I leave the diplomatic missions to Thomas. He isn’t bored by them, heaven knows why!”

I favored our hosts with a patient smile.

“I am afraid my cousin has not yet recovered from the long trip,” I said. “Let me tell you some time about the village she purchased. Now, there was a study in architecture!” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the very tip of Jil’s tongue peek out between her lips, the subtlest of cousinly rebukes.

“I’ll make sure you have an escort to the shopping district,” Janice said. “It’s vast and ancient—I think you can find anything you want there.”

“When may I meet Her Excellence?” I asked. “As the representative of my cousin, the emperor, I would like to present my credentials as soon as possible.”

“She would like to see you this afternoon. Would that be convenient?”

“Certainly,” I said. “I look forward to it.”

“Wonderful!” Janice said, making a note on her viewpad.

“But I have one further request,” I added, hoping the press was out of earshot, “a very important one. I am in receipt of a certain amount of correspondence regarding Imperium citizens who are being held by the authorities.”

Janice’s brows went down in concern.

“Which citizens?”

“Accused smugglers,” I said, prepared to launch into their defense. “I have been in correspondence with some of them who appealed for my aid. It would seem that the laws of the Autocracy are harsh, not to say
draconian
. . .”

“If I may, my lord,” Parsons said. He stepped forward a pace, and suddenly the noises around us deadened. The others did not notice, but I fancied my hearing to be as keen as any Uctu’s. Parsons had no doubt deployed one of the small devices concealed about his person to enhance our privacy. “On behalf of the Emperor, we must request meetings with those citizens. It is part of his lordship’s responsibilities to offer our assistance.”

“That may be a little tricky,” Janice said, with a frown. “They are charged with capital crimes. I or someone on my staff has been in to see each of them, but there is a rule against outsiders entering the prison precinct. They are allowed contact only with their counsel until their trial, which has not yet been scheduled.”

“Nevertheless, it is imperative that Lord Thomas speaks with them,” Parsons said, imperturbably. He was not to be put off by one bureaucrat’s frown, or indeed a whole concert hall of bureaucrats frowning in six-part harmony.

Janice was not one to challenge one so confident, as indeed any diplomat worth her salt would not. She bowed slightly.

“I will make arrangements. It could take some time. Would you all like to have a chance to freshen up before the audience with Her Excellence?”

I stood before my bed, my chin in hand. What to wear?

I wished to make the greatest possible impression upon Her Excellence. I knew that the young Uctu leader was considered wise beyond her years, but what did that mean? Anyone of my acquaintance who used a word more than five syllables long was often interpreted to be of superior intelligence, when close examination would prove conclusively otherwise. Although I cared deeply for my cousins and would defend them to the death, I was under no illusions as regarded their intelligence or reasoning faculties. Doubtless, of course, they would have said the same about me. But at least I was willing to improve myself. Most of my relatives were content to calculate their degree of separation from the throne and fulfill every whim that they could afford. I, too, had spent most of my life doing just that. But things had become so much more interesting since I had found a purpose. Working on covert missions was enormous fun, not to mention providing me with fresh venues in which to show off my extensive and ever-changing wardrobe. I must not forget that the missions were actually important to the well-being of the Imperium.

All my luggage and that of my contingent had been transferred to rooms in the Nacer Raffles Hotel. As the emperor’s direct envoy, the Celestial Suite was ceded to me in its entirety. It consisted of fifteen rooms of several sizes, from the junior powder room, smallest of the three euphemisms, through the fountain room, an octagonal glass-roofed indoor garden suitable for meditation or a charming afternoon tea, up to the reception room, which could have hosted a party of sixty in comfort. The suite occupied the entire top floor of the hotel, a grand old establishment in the oldest part of the city. All in all, I had more space granted to me than in my quarters in the Imperium compound in Taino. Jil and her ladies shared the Magnificent Suite that filled the floor below mine. My crew were bestowed here and there in humbler quarters. I assumed Parsons had been given a group of rooms somewhere filled with surveillance equipment and hot and cold running spies.

My bedroom, largest of the four within the gilded doors, was painted the palest of shell pink and decorated with antiques and beautifully made faux antiques that stood out against that gentle glow. The robotic room steward, which also acted as my personal valet during my visit, had unpacked anything that was not coded shut with my personal seal.

The remaining three cases had been transferred to an office, the door to which was secured with an optical scanner and a word lock. No necessity or luxury had been neglected, to my eye. After a rapturous examination of the premises, I had temporarily run out of superlatives.

I explored the bedroom with an eye to feng shui, and determined that my bed needed to face in a different direction for maximum flow of chi. I summoned the robotic room steward, EXLS-53don, from its niche beside the main door, and had it rearrange the furniture to my liking. Once that was done, I felt as though the energy was much better. I had also asked that the elegant and plushy white dressing gowns that hung in every closet be replaced by the same in red. All that was done in an instant. The ancient hotel chain had not fallen down in its long tradition of service.

At my request, EXLS-53don had also arrayed my formal attire so I could peruse it easily. The plain black suit for which Parsons had expressed an initial preference for my first encounter with Her Excellence was simply that: plain. I rejected it out of hand. Out also for consideration went my naval uniform. Handsome and fitted to my size as though it had been a second skin, it stood out in drab contrast to the rest of my wardrobe. Neither was it suited to my rank nor my position as envoy.

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