Relic of Empire

by W. Michael Gear

  If only I could bend men’s wills the way Chrysla bends the space-time continuum, Staffa groused to himself. He sat on the bridge amidst the instrument clusters of his command chair. The sensors and detection equipment corrected for redshift and monitors filled with the familiar images of Free Space. In a blue flicker, the Twin Titans dominated the forward screens. The two stars, RR Lyrae-type giants, whirled about each other, releasing pulses of radiation that swept this lonely corner of Free Space. In defiance of the deadly radiation, Staffa had chosen his refuge and constructed his fortress in the Itreatic Belt-the remains of a massive planet which had created a metalrich asteroid ring. There, in the pockmarked corpse of an old moon, Staffa had established his major base of operations, manufacturing, and final redoubt.

  Prior to Staffa’s arrival, no one had developed an extractive industry in

  the hostile environs of the Twin Titans with their cataclysmic pulsations of deadly radiation. With his war-garnered fortune, Staffa had overcome the hazards and founded an empire. His crews, in specially shielded vehicles, mined the asteroids of their incredible wealth. Itreatic engineers manufactured the finest of gallium-arsenide superconductors and atomic circuit nanocomputer boards. Itreatic sialon brought top dollar throughout Free Space, and Staffa had even toyed with the idea of starship hulls grown atom by atom of perfect ceramic-harder than the finest alloyed steel and with seven times the compressive and tensile strength. His thallium oxide industries were the envy of both empires.

  As the Titans’ actinic light flickered off Chrysla’s hull, she turned her nose toward the dusty albedo of the Itreatic Belt.

  “First Officer, alert the monitors,” Staffa ordered. Lynette Helmutt, prone in her recliner, worry-cap obscuring her head, answered through the speakers, “Monitors alerted, Lord Commander. Deceleration initiated at 30 g. Consequent Delta V dump sequences initiated. We’re roger 001 course relay. Monitors report condition green at home and welcome back.”

  “Acknowledged, First Officer. Send my regards.” Staffa checked the long-distance sensing monitors out of habit, making sure that no vessels could surprise them on the way in. It never paid to be carelesseven in a homecoming.

  Skyla stepped through the hatch and walked across the gleaming bridge. She wore her usual white armor and she carried a flat comm monitor tucked under one arm. She, too, inspected the readouts, noting the ship’s condition as well as the reports from the detection equipment.

  How beautiful she is. Staffa allowed himself the luxury of watching her as she approached, hips swaying, the light sparkling in her tightly braided white-blonde hair. A gleam filled her azure eyes as she noticed his attention, and her warm smile spread for him alone.

  " You look happy for once,” she told him as she stopped beside his command chair. “After the way you slept last night, I’m glad. I expected you to be moody and withdrawn.”

  He shifted his glance to the main monitor, watching the Twin Titans as they danced about each other. “Bad dreams. That and I can’t seem to let go of the problem of unification. I made Rega and Sassa into what they are. Ltrained them to go for each other’s throats. Yet, now I have to undo a lifetime’s worth of work overnight-and I’m at a loss as to how to do it.”

  “ Tossing and turning won’t help.” She put her hand on his arm. “Trust me. You don’t have the information you need. After you talk to Kaylla, find out what her agents have learned, then you can formulate something. You need to open communications with Sinklar, too. He’s really the key, isn’t he? And who knows, maybe Myles has turned something up while we’ve been in null singularity.”

  “The key, yes, that’s Sinklar.” He pounded nervously on the armrest with the heel of a fist.

  “And for once, you’ve had to wait on the rest of the universe. Isn’t that part of what’s made you so anxious? All the simulations, all the fiddling with variables has just been a way of keeping you occupied.”

  “ Maybe. I’ve felt hamstrung. This has been a rotten trip. Not even Divine Sassa takes me seriously anymore. And I could make him very sorry for that. “

  She tapped her chin with a slender finger. “Staffa, I’ve looked over the data. Assuming Tap has made progress on Countermeasures, you could take out one of the capitals. Either Rega or Imperial Sassa, it wouldn’t matter. Without the capital’s centralized administration, neither empire has any choice but to capitulate within weeks as the systems begin to fail. Both empires have the computer capability to take over immediate administration of the conquered territory. We could end this very quickly.”

  “But at what cost? Another several billion dead? I know what a strike against Rega would do. That’s what I originally planned, after all. Destroy the Regan redistribution center, and the rest of the Empire would be helpless, effectively decapitated. His Holiness doesn’t know it, but he’s got the programs to integrate the Regan systems into his own. Rotted Gods, Skyla, they’re using our computers, our software! That was part of the scheme. It’s just that now ... well, I can’t let myself murder another world. You understand, don’t you? I have to do this bloodlessly. “

  “Your shared responsibility to God and man. I know about your Seddi concepts.” She nodded her acceptance. “Maybe they’re even right.”

  “You should talk more to Kaylla.”

  “Getting back to the problem, I think the key is in the computers. Is there any way you can think of to eliminate one or the other? A virus, perhaps?”

  He shot her an evaluating look. “Don’t even think it. A virus would shut down the entire Imperial network on both sides, jumping from one program to the next. That, too, would exceed the system’s ability as surely as a war. “

  “I suppose so, but somewhere there’s a weak link in the system we can exploit. Some key economic factor could be disrupted with an ensuing ripple effect throughout the Empire. Perhaps just enough to frighten the people into capitulating. We’d have to be very careful. “

  “Bruen tried the same thing when he attempted to lure me to Targa-special guest at my own assassination. “ Staffa shook his head. “I’d hate to gamble on anything like that. The quanta are God’s joke on the universe. We could plan out every detail, make every assumption. But we can’t predict every bureaucrat’s decision. It’s too easy to allow pride to lead you into a stupid mistake.”

  Skyla sighed and slapped her monitor against her muscular thigh. “Rotted Gods, random factors affect everything, Staffa. You can’t have it any other way. You never worried about them when you were taking a planet. “

  “Oh, you can be sure that I worried about them constantly. The difference is like that between an assassin and a surgeon. Both wield a knife on a body. If the assassin finds he can’t cut one artery, he’ll maneuver, and cut another. In our case, we must be surgeons, skilled enough to excise a growth and keep the patient from bleeding to death, for he has little blood left. “

  He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. “Trust me. I don’t want to fool with economic disaster. It’s full of booby traps that could doom us all.”

  She gazed at him with a skeptical coolness in her crystal blue eyes. “So war is out. Economic sabotage is out. Diplomacy just let you down when you tried it on His Holiness. That leaves assassination, bribery, blackmail, or extortion. Which did you have in mind?”

  “Do you really think I’d assassinate my son? He’s one of the sticking points right now.”

  :’Well ... maybe not. Think bribery will work?” ‘I’d like to think he has a sterner character than to give in to such failings.”

  “Given his sire, it would be something of a miracle if he didn’t.”

  “But his mother’s superior qualities would have overcome any deficiencies on my part.” He paused. “You’re right. Let’s try blackmail instead. But assassination will still do for Ily and Divine Sassa.”

  Skyla’s professional demeanor cracked and a thin smile warmed her lips. “Genetics aside, ‘we’ve had an entire trip to wrestle with this thing. Each scenario we�
�ve run has a fatal flaw. I’ll say this for you, Staffa, when you manipulate governments into a head-on collision, you do it so -well even you can’t steer them clear again. “

  “I’ll remember that next time.” He waved a hand. “And you were right. We don’t have the data we need. A lot has happened since we spaced from Imperial Sassa. Let’s wait, check the communications, hear what Kaylla’s agents have uncovered. Not only that, Sinklar has had time to reconsider. Even if he doesn’t believe I’m his father, perhaps he’ll listen to reason.”

  Skyla stared absently at the monitor where the Twin Titans pulsed. “Is that what you’re hoping? That he’ll be convinced by the data? He’s more skeptical of the Seddi than Divine Sassa, the fat maggot.”

  Staffa tightened his grip on her hand. “Maybe he will. I have to try.

  Sinklar’s bladder brought him awake. He blinked and stretched, realizing he didn’t feel right. He gaped at his opulent surroundings-and it all came back.

  Last night didn’t really happen. It was just an erotic dream, Sinklar. It had to have been a dream. The alternative meant that he and Ily had....

  Sinklar turned over and dialed the bed’s gravity to normal, feeling weight return to his limbs. Then he took a deep breath and sat up while he rubbed his face and looked around. Evidently Ily had left during the night.

  Wearily, he got to his feet, walked into the sandwood paneled bathroom, and winced as he began to urinate. Everything down there ached. Not only that, but his tongue hurt down at its roots-and he definitely remembered how he’d done that.

  Sinklar shook his head, running fingers anxiously through his mop of unruly black hair as he blinked owlishly at his image in the mirror. “Rotted Gods. I never knew sex could be like that. “ With the skill of an artist, Ily had sent him from one crashing high of thundering ecstasy to a low throb of drumming pleasure, and then back to the heights of passion to do it all over again. When his endurance had begun to flag, she’d brought him to life time and again until they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms.

  A warm tingle rushed through him at the memory. Sinklar filled his lungs, held it, and puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled. Then he stepped into the shower stall, fiddled with the golden knobs until he figured it out, and whooped loudly as the hot water cascaded over his flesh.

  He stepped through the drying field, feeling remarkably fresh despite his nocturnal exertions and paucity of sleep. He picked up his undersuit and armor, then he sat on the bed and fingered the material. The glow inside began to swell as he relived last night’s wonderment. Had she really made him feel like that?

  The growing warmth in his pelvis assured him she had.

  “I was drugged. She slipped something into my food.” In an Ashtan pig’s eye. How many times did she ask if you really wanted to screw her?

  Sinklar pulled on his armor and walked out into the blue room. One of the mirror-bright stasis spheres shone in the middle of the table where it kept a meal warm. Stomach growling, Sinklar glanced at the comm.

  “Is that really the time?” He shook his head and stared about frantically. He had less than an hour to make it to Tarcee Estate, check on the war games, and make the meeting with Axel and Mayz.

  He glanced longingly at the sphere and touched it. The stasis dome curled back to expose what had to be a delightful breakfast. Sinklar gulped the strawberries and grapes, snatched the thick pastry, and ran for the door. When he stepped out, different guards stood stiffly at attention.

  “Good morning,” Sinklar greeted.

  Neither so much as moved, their performance letter perfect. “Um, you can talk. It’s all right. I’m Sinklar Fist. I’m not familiar with your uniforms.”

  The woman, still at full attention, snapped, “Imperial Guard, my Lord!”

  Sinklar hesitated. “I see. Well, it looks like I’ll be living here. I’m late ... but we’ll talk more later. Get to know each other. In the meantime, I guess, don’t let anybody in.”

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  Sinklar nodded, a weak smile fading as he backed away and walked out through the office and waiting room. As he went, he munched on the pastry, which had been filled with spiced meat and proved delicious. Sink trotted to the end of the powder-blue hallway, palmed, the lock plate, and stepped into the security area.

  “Should have had something to drink,” he mumbled through his mouthful of food, and stepped into the lift. While he dropped, he gulped the last of the pastry and licked his fingers. Too bad the LC was still waiting at Ily’s. Sinklar stiffened, imagining the horrified look that would be on Mhitshul’s face.

  In his imagination, Gretta didn’t look any too pleased either. A twinge of guilt itched in the back of his subconscious.

  “Oh, well,” Sinklar whispered. Then he straightened his shoulders. Gretta lay dead and buried on Targa, and as for Mhitshul, it simply wasn’t his right to pass judgment on his commanding officer. Still, a crawly place inside left Sink uncomfortable.

  You made love with a reptile.

  “But it was damned good ... fantastic ... electric.” He closed his eyes to savor the memory.

  He stepped out onto the underground platform and dropped into the capsule, tapping the button as he’d seen Ily do. The vehicle slipped into the tube, rocking slightly on its superconducting magnets as it shot through the near vacuum like a bullet. In the blue glow of the cabin, Sinklar drummed his fingers. Yes, it was good-better than anything you could have fantasized-but was it worth it? To you? To Gretta?

  “She’s dead, Sink. You can’t bring her back.” No, but you stepped from her bed into Ily’s. “What the hell, for that one night, it was worth it.”

  The capsule slipped up to the platform under the Ministry of Internal Security.

  Sinklar got out and entered the lift, aware again of the security cameras following him. When he rose to Ily’s personal quarters, a distinct unease filled him. Do I just walk into her bedroom? He paused, suddenly beset by doubt. Why would anyone build a transit system like this? The tube ran from Sinklar’s apartment house ... into Ily’s bedroom?

  Warily, he stepped out into Ily’s quarters and found them empty. He hurried through her rooms and into the main office. Ily sat at her desk on the far side, hunched over the monitor. The lights gleamed in her silky black hair. The sight of her stirred sensual memories deep in his gut. He had flashes of her muscular body undulating on his-and banished them with an effort as he approached and adopted a professional attitude.

  “Good morning,” she called pleasantly, head still bowed to the monitor as she input data.

  “Listen, about last night. . . .”

  “Wonderful, wasn’t it?” She glanced up, black eyes boring into his, a happy smile on her lips. “Sorry I had to leave, but someone has to run the government and I let too many things slide last night as it was. We’ve got a problem with the financing for the mining of the Vermilion asteroids. It’s a snarl of poor management decisions, a little graft on the side by the regional administrator, and reluctant investors. Nothing serious, but enough to be called to my attention.”

  He bent to study the monitor, seeing rows of figures with superimposed windows explaining the project history and how it related to the columns of numbers. “I didn’t know you did things like that.”

  She gave him a half-hearted smile. “While you reorganize the military, I am the government. Don’t worry. It won’t always be like this. Slowly but surely, we’ll find capable people to take the positions, but government doesn’t run itself.”

  Sobered, Sink nodded, alarmed at the time. “Listen, I’ve got a meeting.” He grinned sheepishly. “Seems I overslept.”

  “After the workout you gave me last night, I don’t doubt it. I ache all over. I’ll alert your LC to power up. You’d better get to it. “

  As he started for the security doors and the lift that would take him to the roof, she called, “Oh, Sinklar?” He turned and she asked, “Any reservations

  About last night? I mean, anything that
will affect our working relationship?”

  He sucked at his lower lip for a moment, and shook his head. “No, Ily. It was ... you were wonderful last night.”

  Her eyes lit, and she gave him a radiant smile. “So were you. Now, go fix the military. If I can get away, I’ll see you tonight.”

  He turned, almost running to get to his LC-and Mhitshul’s disapproving frown.

  After she alerted Sinklar’s LC to power up, Ily watched through her monitors as he ran down the hall and caught the lift for the roof. The ramp had lowered for him as he sprinted up into the craft. With a whining of thrusters, the drab LC rose into the gray sky and shot off to the southwest.

  Ily rapped her desktop with a jeweled stylus and smiled slyly. After the first rush of excitement, he’d settled down, and, to her surprise, he’d been better than she’d expected. He had remarkable endurance. The benefits of youth? If so, she’d have to find a stable of young lovers.

  Ily nodded her satisfaction. “You’ll never be the same after last night, Sinklar. That taste of honey was only the beginning.”

  Mac rubbed shoulders with Rysta as they stared into the monitor. With the exception of the pilot under the worry-cap, only the engineer manned his duty station. The comm, weapons, and navigation Firsts had all been relieved, their stations standing empty. Not much remained for a bridge crew to do while Gyton warped through null singularity.

  “F Group is getting too strung out,” Rysta noted, pointing to the section of the monitor displaying their advance through one of the hangar decks.

  Mac barked, “Corporal Tomb? Close it up! That’s the third time. One more and you’re out and Red’s in. “

  “Firmative,” Tomb responded. “C’mon, people. Close it up! You heard the First. Anyone lags, he’s got duty for a week-and you get Red for a corporal!”

  “You’d a never had it so good, buddy,” Red japed. “Knock it off, people,” Tomb growled. F Group had closed their ranks.

  Rysta snorted’and shook her head. “I don’t know how you make it work, MacRuder. Just swapping officers like wagers in a tapa game grates in my very guts. “