“Do you think you could run a small operation out of there without arousing suspicion in civilian circles, General Destin?”
“I think so, Milady. How small?”
“One shuttle, one bird.”
“I’m sure we could do that, Milady. Readiness exercise and all. Some target practice.”
“Good. I could have the Imperial Navy do this job from orbit, General Destin, but the Navy is by its nature a blunt instrument for small tasks. You get a lot of collateral damage.”
“I understand, Milady.”
“What I want to do is fly a bird right in this guy’s window and take him out, General Destin, but the timing is critical, and I don’t know when it’s going to come up. In the meantime, you can start monitoring the subject, and see what his habits are, get some plans together. Try to take him out with the minimum damage to property and other people.”
“I understand, Milady. Who is the target?”
“Antonio Sciacca.”
Genghis Khan XXIX accepted Burke’s meeting request, and they met in channel 20, the blank white room with two leather club chairs. Both were dressed in business suits.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” Burke said.
“And a good afternoon to you, Your Majesty,” Khan said.
“Please, take a seat,” Burke said, waving to the chairs.
They both sat, without either taking precedence. They were both heads of state, after all.
“Your Highness, I wanted to ask you about the likely response of the Satrapy of Sirdon and the other four independent nations to a specific set of circumstances.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Your Highness, our agreements specify none of us will be a safe harbor for people fleeing capital charges from another state.”
“That is my understanding, Your Majesty.”
“In the specific current circumstance, Your Highness, I have a large group of people who have been conspiring against the Empire over the long term. They assassinated the Empress Julia fourteen years ago. They attempted to assassinate me almost two years ago, and recently tried to destroy Imperial City, killing millions. I may have to proscribe them all, to root this conspiracy out once and for all. Would that ban on safe harbors also apply to a large group of people, sentenced en masse?”
“How many people, Your Majesty, if I might ask.”
“Perhaps a billion, Your Highness. It is the descendants of the one hundred eleven people Trajan the Great executed for treason for trying to assassinate him and everyone else in the Imperial Palace. Some of their families have kept up the conspiracy for all these years, and the Throne is tired of it. If they will not turn aside, we will proscribe them, by family, and hunt them down with DNA sniffers.”
Khan waved a dismissive hand.
“In a polity as large as the Empire, a billion is not a lot of people, Your Majesty. If there is DNA identification available for those proscribed, we can certainly control who would come here in any case. Even a private space yacht must proceed through planetary traffic control to make planetfall. Anyone proscribed by the Empire, under a capital sentence, would not be welcome in the independent nations, and we would assist you in the matter.”
“You are confident you can speak for the others, Your Highness?”
“Yes. They are all democracies, and democracies can be squishy on policy depending on who won the last election, but I am certain on this point. Those conspiring against the Empire will find no haven here, Your Majesty.”
“There will be a bounty of a million Imperial credits per head on those proscribed, Your Highness. So your efforts would not be uncompensated.”
“Imperial credits are always welcome in the independent nations, Your Majesty, but it is not material. In the greater context of our longstanding and mutually beneficial relationship, it is a minor matter.”
“Very well, Your Highness. Thank you so much for meeting with me today, and for your continued friendship.”
“It was my pleasure, Your Majesty. And I will communicate your concerns to the rest of the independent nation’s heads of state when next we meet.”
Burke also called Natacha Meknikov Monday afternoon.
“Yes, Milady Empress.”
“Ms. Meknikov, I have a minor VR project for you.”
“Of course, Milady.”
“You know when someone goes into a VR meeting, the meeting simulation normally gives them a chair, Ms. Meknikov?”
“Yes, of course, Milady.”
“And I can take my own chair with me instead, right, Ms. Meknikov?”
“Yes, Milady. That’s an option when joining a meeting.”
“Very good. Ms. Meknikov. What I want to be able to do is join a meeting while sitting on a VR simulation of the Throne.”
“The Throne, Milady?”
“Yes, Ms. Meknikov. The Throne, and the riser beneath it as well, I think. So I’m that one step higher. Can you have someone make that for me?”
“Of course, Milady.”
“I need it by the end of the week, Ms. Meknikov.”
“That’s no problem, Milady. I will take care of it.”
“That is all, Ms. Meknikov.”
Late that evening, the Monday a week after the museum incident, Burke and Ardmore were relaxing in their private living room. They had all had dinner together, and family time with Stevie and Burke’s parents. Stevie was now down for the night, and Burke’s parents had retired to their own apartment.
“You were awfully busy this afternoon. What are you up to?” Ardmore asked.
“Making preparations for confronting the families,” Burke said. “Mostly at this point getting my options in place.”
“What kind of options?”
“I have Ms. Schneider looking into whether I can monitor and crash one of their meetings.”
“That sounds like fun,” Ardmore said. “The fire-breathing Empress gig, popping right into their meeting?”
“Yeah. You like that one?”
“Oh, yes. I’m kind of surprised they never figured out you shouldn’t use your opponent’s communications system to hold your secret meetings.
Burke chuckled.
“Yes, they have delusions of ruling the Empire, and at the same time, some of them at least aren’t the sharpest knives in the drawer.”
Ardmore nodded, and Burke continued.
“And Ms. Schneider confirmed to me Mr. Sciacca was the brains behind the museum incident.”
“I spent my afternoon reading reports, and I saw that come across this afternoon.”
“So another thing I did this afternoon was to inquire of General Destin if he could mount a minor operation on Verona without tipping his hand to the civilian side there.”
“What were you thinking of?” Ardmore asked.
“A VR-guided missile through Mr. Sciacca’s office window.”
“Sounds like a worthwhile endeavor.”
“I think so,” Burke said. “There have to be consequences.”
“Agreed. Anything else?”
“I spoke with the Satrap of Sirdon. He assures me the independent nations will not provide any safe harbor to those fleeing the Empire under a capital sentence.”
“Even if it’s a billion people?” Ardmore asked.
“He noted that in a polity as large as the Empire, that’s not a lot of people. He said even a private space yacht has to come in under planetary control, and they would police entry.”
“Did you mention a bounty?”
“Yes,” Burke said. “He said it was welcome but not necessary in the greater context of our friendship.”
“Well, that’s all welcome news. Anything else?”
“Yes. I asked Ms. Meknikov to generate a VR representation of the Throne, on its riser.”
“Well, you probably have to bring your own chair if you crash their meeting,” Ardmore said. “There are unlikely to be extras.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Can I ta
g along and watch in management channel? This sounds like fun.”
“Yes, of course,” Burke said.
“And when is this likely to happen?”
“I suspect not until after the funeral. I understand Commander Geary just sent up a proposal for Saturday, when Imperial City and Galway City are more or less in synch.”
“Speaking of which, have you changed your mind about Colonel Ryan?” Ardmore asked.
“No. I can’t execute him and let his sister go. And it would poison the rapprochement with her I am trying to negotiate. So Colonel Ryan goes down as being executed, but Ian Walsh goes home to Galway.”
Ardmore nodded.
“It’s a bit of a sophistry, but I approve, for all the reasons you’ve stated. He’s always been under her control, and your ultimatum to her made it clear she better keep the whole family in line.”
“Exactly,” Burke said.
“When are you going to tell him?”
“Before the funeral. Once the plans for the funeral are final.”
“And we’re going to attend?” Ardmore asked.
“Yes. I want to. I think it helps the process, even if it is unprecedented.”
“Actually, it’s not. The Emperor Trajan and Empress Amanda attended the funeral of Otto Stauss. In 48 GE, I think it was. So three hundred and change years ago, but not unprecedented.”
“Excellent,” Burke said. “So everybody won’t be expecting the same treatment going forward. We’ve set the interval, and we don’t have to worry about it for another three hundred years.”
Funeral
Brigade Commander Travis Geary was trying to figure out how to hold a funeral for his hero cadet and personal friend Sean Boyle. How did he put all the disparate elements together?
First, the body had to be buried out at sea, in deep water. As it was, it was so radioactive and chemically poisoned it was a hazardous material in its own right. By the time the ocean ate through the body bags, the radiation would have died down a bit, and then the diffusion of the radioactives and poisons in the great volume of the ocean would render them not dangerous.
Second, Boyle deserved – and would get, if Geary had anything to say about it – a twenty-one gun salute. This was traditionally given at the burial site or at the seat of government. In this case, that was Palace Mall, and Geary had learned the Imperial Guard maintained a set of seven wheeled cannon – modern replicas of the Napoleon twelve-pounder cannon of the nineteenth century – for the purpose. These were usually reserved for funerals of the Imperial Guard, but Thomas Walsh Doolan had been invited to the Imperial Guard, so there should be no objection there.
Third, the family had to be accommodated, and, other than Colonel Ryan, they were all out on Galway. Even if the family had wanted to make the ten-week roundtrip, keeping the body in Imperial City for five weeks was out of the question. It was that dangerous. Of course, they could VR in using VR projectors, but the projectors had a limited range, and how did one hide them? Geary finally came up with the idea of using the VR projectors as the corners of a space set aside for spectators.
Fourth, Their Majesties wished to attend. Of course, they could VR in as well, but, if the funeral was held on Palace Mall, they could simply come out on their balcony.
The sticking point all came back to how to show the burial at sea to the assembled mourners?
A couple of ideas presented themselves, and Geary started to research the possibilities.
Geary bounced some ideas off Benton over dinner.
“Nate, how big of an image can I project using a VR projector?”
“You mean, project a camera view of something so other people see it as reality?”
“Yeah.”
“Hard to say,” Benton said. “Projection isn’t really a VR thing. When you project an avatar it is, but the projection itself is just projection tech. What do you want to project an image of?”
“An assault shuttle.”
“That’s pretty big, Travis.”
“I know. But it’s for Sean’s funeral. They’re going to take the body out to sea and drop it in the ocean. Can I project that process?”
“That’s even worse than just the shuttle, Travis. They won’t actually have the body on the shuttle. It’s too dangerous. It will be suspended beneath. Like fifty feet, maybe. They go out in the ocean and drop it, or go down to the surface until it’s just above the water and release it. But what you’re trying to project is over fifty feet tall at that point. It’s like projecting a five-story building.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Geary said. “Well, that won’t work. Damn.”
“What’s the issue?”
“We have two things going on. One is the burial at sea. The other is the twenty-one gun salute on Palace Mall. The family itself is logging in with VR, so I thought to project the one part into the reality of the other part.”
“That’s not how to do this, Travis. Build it up in VR. Build a simulation, then insert the live feeds into it. There’s people around who can do that. Probably work through the Imperial Palace. They can set it up.”
“How would that work?”
“OK. So you find a VR recording of some really nice spot on the ocean, right? Like a park with a seawall or something. Right?”
“OK,” Geary said.
“Now you add the feed from a second shuttle that goes out with the first. Out at sea. Easy to merge those two streams because the boundary is in the water and the video guys can fade it.”
“OK, I can see that.”
“Right,” Benton said. “Now if you find a park on the edge of the sea with a lawn, it’s pretty easy to add a stream from Palace Mall of the cannons. Again, the boundary is easy because it’s in the lawn.”
“OK, I got it. So it looks like everybody is out in this park on the shore, and there’s the burial at sea part over there and here’s the twenty-one-gun salute in the park. And Sean still gets his actual burial at sea, and there is still an actual twenty-one-gun salute on Palace Mall, because those feeds aren’t virtual, they’re live.”
“Exactly. The important bits are live. Those are really happening. You just sort of give people a place to stand where they can watch both. And that should be a recording, not a simulation, so the granularity matches.”
“Got it. Thanks, Nate.”
Geary wrote up a proposal for the funeral and sent it to General Hansen, the Commandant of the Imperial Marine Academy Center. The open issue was how to get the VR channel constructed. Who had the expertise to get it done right?
Hansen sent Geary’s proposal to Imperial General Hargreaves, the Commandant of the Imperial Guard. Hargreaves took it to Paul Diener, the Co-Consul. Diener delegated it to Natacha Meknikov, the head of the Projects Office.
Meknikov got in touch with Geary.
“Geary.”
“Hello, Commander Geary. My name is Natacha Meknikov. I’m the director of the Imperial Projects Office.”
“Yes, Ms. Meknikov. What can I do for you today?”
“Your proposal for Lieutenant Doolan’s funeral went all the way up to the Co-Consul, Commander, from which it got delegated to my office. I just wanted to touch base with you and make sure we understand everything. I can also give you a contact here so we can coordinate.”
“I understand, Ms. Meknikov. Do you have any questions?”
“We did have a couple, Commander. Let me get my project lead on the call....”
Details got ironed out. One was when the body would be available for burial. It was still in isolation within the containment at the Imperial War Museum. Decomposition wasn’t a worry, because the body was so radioactive it was effectively sterile. There were no bacteria remaining to begin decomposition. Projects was working that issue with Major Law, who commanded the decontamination operation.
There was also the delay in getting the VR channel completed, but Projects was already on that. Geary saw a mockup of the arrangement the next day, and approved it. The detail w
ork would take another two days.
Another issue was when the days of Imperial City and Galway City would be in synch enough to have the funeral at convenient times at both ends. The two cities would actually be more or less in synch on Saturday. This was the second Saturday since the museum incident. The next time would be almost two additional weeks.
It was Wednesday already. The VR channel would be ready Friday. The body could be out of containment any time after Thursday, to take directly to burial.
It looked like Saturday was it.
Maire Kerrigan got the communication directly from the Empress.
To: Maire Kerrigan
From: Arsinoe, Imp.
Subject: Funeral
The funeral of Lieutenant Thomas Walsh Doolan, IG, will be held on Saturday June 8, 356 GE, at 10:00 AM Imperial City time. Burial will be at sea, with twenty-one gun salute on Palace Mall. Family and friends are invited. VR channel pointer attached.
Kerrigan sent the notice on to family and friends on Galway.
Geary also received the notice from the Empress. He posted the notice to all Academy cadets. He also sent it on to Ambrose Dickens, Troy Donahue, Michael Odom, and Phil Stinson.
Colonel Ryan was once more taken from his cell and moved to the interrogation room. Once more, he was shackled at the ankles to the chair. And once more, Imperial Guardsmen took up station in the corners of the room.
The Empress entered, and Ryan stood. She was dressed today in a business suit. She looked all business.
“Be seated, Mr. Walsh.”
“Yes, Milady Empress.”
Ryan sat down, confused. Last time she had called him ‘Colonel Ryan.’
“I have come to a decision in your case, Mr. Walsh. It has a number of twists to it, because it is not an easy case. Let me explain.”
“Of course, Milady.”
“Colonel Ryan is dead. Executed for treason.”
That was no more than he had expected, although the use of the past tense puzzled him. He simply nodded.
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