“Excellent. Keep monitoring.”
They waited anxious minutes for a successful counter-stroke, but their false feed kept running.
“There’s the timer, sir. Exercise completed.”
“Yes! We got her,” Sokolov said.
“I thought we really had you guys,” Sokolov said to Mori in the cafeteria of the Communications Building in Imperial Park West after the morning’s last simulation.
“We recorded your network status map and just looped it to you, so you thought everything was hunky-dory.”
“But I could have sworn I saw you trying to fight back, and being ineffectual.”
“Another recording we made earlier, and a bot to overlay one on the other. Had to keep you watching the show.”
“We’ll get you yet, Sue. I’ve got a good one for this afternoon.”
“Promises, promises. All some guys are is promises.”
They had been running more and more complex attack simulations over the past several weeks. This latest was just one of the dozens of attack simulations they ran in the final few days leading into the coronation.
After the dress rehearsal for the coronation, once everyone else had left, Bobby sat on the throne and, with the help of the director for the coronation, made a VR recording. He was dressed in his Imperial Guard uniform, and wore the Imperial crown and the cape that had been placed on him during dress rehearsal. As the sun rose toward noon, and the sunlight came down through the skylight of the nave to light up the throne, he delivered an Imperial address.
“People of Catalonia.
“You have been the victims of a deception....”
Coronation
The forty most senior department heads – fewer than one percent of the total – gathered in the atrium cafeteria of the Imperial Research building next door to the palace. They had been there for dress rehearsal yesterday morning, so it wasn’t like they hadn’t done all this before. Yet today was special. It was the real deal.
When the time came, at ten to eleven, they lined up and followed Consul Saaret out of the Imperial Research building and around to the front of the palace. Broad stone steps led up to the gold-covered doors of the entrance to the Throne Room, the giant gothic nave at the front of the original palace of the Kings of Sintar. The old palace was long gone, the gleaming ‘modern’ palace having replaced it over three hundred years ago. But the ancient gothic nave of the original had been retained.
Saaret mounted the steps to the top, the department heads lined up in two lines behind him, and stopped at the threshold. This would be his third time leading the oath makers down the center of the nave to the Throne, twice as Chairman of the Council, and now as co-consul of the Emperor.
At eleven-fifteen a trumpet fanfare was played, and Saaret once more walked down the center of the enormous nave, filled with people, between the rows of Imperial Guardsmen forming the aisle.
He reached the front of the lines of Guardsmen, to where their lines turned left and right, forming the forward barrier of the crowd. He stopped just in front of them, and the department heads split and walked out to either side until the line of them, there in front of the Guardsmen, stretched across the nave.
“Not long now,” Brenda Connolly said.
They were waiting in the anteroom off the Throne Room. General Daggert was also there, as were Lieutenant Colonel Leitner and Major Mercer
“Oh, I know. I’m so nervous,” Amanda Peters said. “Thanks for being here.”
“Hey, I can watch it on VR any time. This is front row center. How cool is that?”
Peters laughed.
“You’ll be able to watch me fall down the stairs. They’ll cut that from the official version.”
“Oh, is that what you’re worried about? I thought you were worried about going out in that dress. It’s like tissue paper. You might as well be naked.”
Peters snorted.
“That doesn’t bother me, Brenda. I’d do it naked if he asked me. I just don’t want to screw it up. I want it to be perfect for him.”
“Then just think about him, Amanda. Don’t think about screwing up. The back of your brain will think that’s what you want. Just think about him.”
Peters took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
“You’re right. That’s much better.”
Her hairdresser made some last-minute touches to her hair, all bound up with flowers from her father’s gardens.
“Not long now,” Peters said, eying the crown on its purple satin pillow on the table next to her.
At eleven-thirty, a trumpet fanfare sounded again, and General Daggert entered from a side door, walked across the dais and up its side steps to the top, and then across to the center. He was wearing the Imperial Marines’ Marine Dress Uniform with the gold fourragère of the Imperial Guard. He turned and faced the crowd.
“We are gathered here to witness the coronation of Robert Allen Dunham IV as the Emperor Trajan, the twenty-eighth ruler of the Empire of Sintar.”
At that, Dunham entered through the side door on the other side, walked around to the front of the dais, and up the stairs. He knelt on a pillow on the floor in front of Daggert. He was also wearing the Imperial Marines’ Marine Dress Uniform with the gold fourragère of the Imperial Guard, together with the full-size version of the Cross of Sintar on his chest, hanging from a purple ribbon around his neck.
Kneeling in front of Daggert, Dunham recited the ancient Pledge of the Empress, unchanged in over three hundred years, modified now to reflect his title of Emperor.
“I, Robert Allen Dunham IV, pledge to perform the duties and responsibilities of Emperor of the Sintaran Empire, wielding authority with compassion, justice with mercy, and power with finesse, for the benefit and well-being of the people of the Sintaran Empire, now and into the future, until I die.”
At that point, Amanda Peters entered the Throne Room from the same side door as Daggert had, barefoot and wearing the white dress, carrying a square purple pillow with gold fringe and tassels. On it was a woven gold circlet with a single large blue jewel in the center – the Star of Sintar – and overlain with a gold representation of a laurel wreath. She walked around to the foot of the dais in front, and up the stairs to Dunham’s right, stopping one step short of the top.
General Daggert took the crown and placed it on Dunham’s head. Peters backed down the steps and stood at the foot of the dais.
Lieutenant Colonel Kurt Leitner and Major David Mercer entered from the same side door as Daggert had, carrying between them an accordion-folded purple cloth. They were also wearing the Imperial Marines’ Marine Dress Uniform with the gold fourragère of the Imperial Guard. They walked around to the foot of the dais in the front, and up the stairs until they were on either side of Dunham, one step down from the top. They held the cloth up to Dunham’s shoulders, and Daggert took a clasp from each side and fastened them in front of Dunham’s neck. Leitner and Mercer unfolded the cloth by lowering it to the floor, revealing an imperial purple cape, chased at the hem, plackets, and collar with an intricate design in gold thread.
Leitner and Mercer backed down the steps and stood to either side of the dais, with Leitner next to Peters.
Daggert walked to one front corner of the dais and stood facing Dunham.
Dunham rose and stood. He walked forward to the Throne and mounted the one single additional step in front of it. He knelt before the Throne and bowed deeply to it, then kissed the end of the left arm of the Throne, then the right. He stood and turned to face the crowd, bathed in the sunlight streaming through the skylight above. The gold of the crown and cape glinted in the sunlight, and the Star of Sintar on his forehead shone with a blue fire.
Daggert called out, “The Emperor Trajan.”
Daggert, Leitner, Mercer, and Peters all went down on one knee and bowed their heads as the trumpets started the Imperial Fanfare. Saaret and the department heads all went down on one knee and bowed their heads, followed by the crowd. The two lines
of Imperial Guardsmen, who had been standing at ease, turned toward the Throne and came to attention, then, as one, saluted and held the salute through the fanfare.
When the fanfare was finished, Dunham sat down on the Throne.
“Please rise.”
At his command, everyone rose.
“Consul Saaret,” Daggert called out.
Saaret approached the dais, climbed the stairs, and knelt on the pillow. He bowed to the Emperor.
“I pledge my obedience, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Consul Saaret.”
Saaret rose and returned to his place.
“Mr. Thomas Jenkins,” Daggert called out.
Jenkins repeated Saaret’s actions.
“I pledge my obedience, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jenkins.”
Jenkins rose and withdrew.
Daggert proceeded through the Call of the Departments, what had once been the Call of the Imperial Council, and each department head present came up to the Emperor to kneel, bow, and pledge their obedience as they followed the ancient ritual. It was the second time in two days they had seen the Emperor. Yesterday at dress rehearsal he had shaken hands with each and every one of them. The vast majority of them would never see him again.
When Daggert had completed the roll, the Imperial Fanfare sounded again, and Dunham stood. Everyone went down on one knee and bowed as he walked slowly off the dais down the side stairs and out through the door Daggert had entered from. At the end of the Imperial Fanfare, everyone stood.
The coronation was over.
Cyber War
Sayuri Mori and her entire crew were in place on her bridge in the VR-network NOC two hours before the live feed for the coronation started. Pavel Sokolov and his crew were in place on his bridge in a duplicate NOC. They would form the back-up team. Stenis Dernier and his team were in their own QE-radio NOC. Their job would begin after the main event was over.
“Network is nominal, ma’am. We don’t see any anomalies at this time.”
“Keep monitoring,” Mori said.
She expected the feed substitution to occur immediately when the palace feed started, beginning at eleven, or just before the department heads entered, at eleven-fifteen. It depended on how they filmed the substitute feed. Did they have a suitable stand-in for the Throne Room? Would they overlay their coronation over stock footage of an empty Throne Room?
When it got to ten to eleven, it was time to start setting up.
“Deploy the bots,” Mori said.
“Bots deploying, ma’am.”
She saw icons following the bots’ progress out into the Catalonia Sector, penetrating it to its farthest reaches, replicating themselves and leaving icons behind. They washed over the sector completely, occupying every node. This generation of the bot, though, did not spurn the links out of the sector, but transited out one layer, to also occupy all the nodes at the other end of the redundant links into Catalonia. This was as in the simulations, but it was now happening on a live network, and tensions were high.
“Bots all reporting operational, ma’am.”
“Transmit the crypto key,” Mori said.
“Crypto key transmitting, ma’am.”
Another new wrinkle. The bots could recognize the correct feed no matter how it was received, because the NOC would add a buried crypto-signature to the palace feed when it went out. The crypto key would decode it to the timestamp, to one-minute granularity. Comparing it to system time would confirm the correct feed.
“All bots report receipt of crypto key, ma’am.”
“Bring up the crypto engine.”
“Bringing up the crypto engine, ma’am.”
“Crypto engine on-line, ma’am.”
“Let’s keep an eye out for the palace feed to start.”
In his network operations center on Catalonia, Nico Ferrer watched in management mode as his network team got ready to substitute the feed. He wasn’t present in their VR imagery, but he could see them and what was going on. Everything was a model of efficiency and skill as they prepared.
“Watch for the feed from Sintar to establish,” Jonatan Sandoval said.
“We’re monitoring, sir. Nothing yet.”
Tense minutes ticked by. It was almost eleven o’clock. Then a strand went white on the link from Sintar and started propagating within Catalonia.
“Sintar feed establishing, sir.”
“Snip and sub. Let’s see if we can do this easy,” Sandoval said.
“Snip and sub. Yes, sir.”
The white feed stopped at Catalonia now, and the white strands that had spun out across Catalonia turned blue.
“Palace feed is up, ma’am.”
“Feed it into the crypto engine, embed the signature, and propagate the feed.”
A silver thread spun out on all thirty hierarchical sector links from Sintar. From there it branched down the hierarchical links to the provincial capitals and to the planets beyond.
“Embedding, ma’am. It’s propagating. We’re on-line.”
“Fork the signal and initiate backup feed.”
“Forked. Initiating backup feed.”
A black thread spun out along the link from Sintar to Catalonia. Mori pulled her bridge right up to Catalonia now, and watched the backup feed propagate down the hierarchical links throughout the sector.
As the seconds ticked by, she began to think all their prep had been for nothing. Perhaps there would be no hijack attempt.
And then the golden feed beyond Catalonia turned red.
“We’ve lost compares, ma’am. Backtracking.”
The view of Catalonia expanded until it was a mesh of supernodes. The gold thread entered and the red thread left. Where was the substitution?
There!
Mori touched the node.
“Re-route around this node and reinstate feed.”
“Re-routing, ma’am.”
The gold thread found another way through the mesh, and replaced the black thread, it spun out across the planetary mesh and out the other side to the provincial capitals.
Mori spoke over another channel in her VR.
“Pavel, work that node. Get me that feed source.”
“Working on it, Sue,” Pavel Sokolov said from the other NOC.
Sokolov pulled his bridge right up to Catalonia and expanded the planetary mesh until it filled his vision.
“Bring up the feed stack on this node, and isolate that feed.”
“Accessing feed stack, sir. Isolating the feed now.”
Sokolov watched the feed stack, a listing of video feeds through this supernode that ran off into the distance above and below him. It shrunk by big chunks as feeds were eliminated, until only one glowed in front of him.
“Trace that feed.”
“Tracing, sir.”
A red thread shot off across the network mesh, into lower-level nodes, until it fetched up at one specific node.
“It’s running from here, sir. It’s not live, it’s a VR recording file. It’s resident in the node, sir.”
“Can you copy that file?”
“Yes, sir. Copying. Do you want me to lock or erase the file?”
“No, not yet. I want to see it first.”
“Sir, they’ve re-routed around the supernode and patched their feed back in.”
The blue strands had all disappeared and the white thread of the Sintar feed had re-established. So much for thinking they weren’t paying attention.
“Deploy bots,” Sandoval said.
“Deploying bots, sir.”
Sandoval watched icons for his bots establish themselves throughout the sector.
“Bots deployed, sir.”
“Begin provincial feeds, then back-feed to Catalonia.”
“Provincial feeds established, Sir. The back feed is also up.”
“All right. Swap the feeds.”
Sandoval’s feed now went out to the provincial capitals on private channels, where they were substit
uted for the official feed on the public channels beyond. The blue threads spun out from the provincial capitals to the planets, and the back-feed into Catalonia pushed into the supernodes there.
“Ma’am, he’s substituting in the provincial capitals now.”
“Ha! That’s the same shit Pavel tried on us last week. We have the source node identified?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Freeze system status, isolate that node, and echo status.”
“Freeze in place, ma’am. Isolating. Isolation complete. Echoing.”
“Now deploy bot killers and restore the feeds. And start the razzle-dazzle program on that isolated node.”
“Switching feeds, ma’am. Razzle-dazzle initiated.”
Mori saw the correct feed re-establish as her bots deployed bot killers to over-rule the Catalonia bots in the provincial capital nodes, and then switched the feed back to the official one.
What the Catalonia hacker should see is his substitute feed continuing to run unobstructed throughout the sector, even while she made ineffectual attempts to over-ride his bots.
Pavel Sokolov scanned through the copy of the video file. It was the coronation of Sector Governor Renata Palomo de la Gallego as Empress Renata. Nice job. Looked official and all. He got to the end of the ceremony, and there was five or ten minutes of recap. Typical. Wait. What’s this? An address by Empress Renata, from her throne. He slowed down to 1.5x real time and listened to her address.
Well, there it is. Secession of Catalonia from the Empire.
He looked in on Sayuri Mori. Ha! He recognized that trick. She beat him with it last week.
He composed a short note, and sent it to his boss with a copy to Mori:
Substitute video file is canned coronation video of Sector Governor Palomo as Empress Renata, followed by a speech by her announcing the secession of Catalonia from the Empire. Sayuri Mori’s team is maintaining official feed of coronation of Emperor Trajan throughout Catalonia.
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