“I know,” Cato replied somberly. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Shani wasn’t so sure. But there wasn’t any point in saying that because Cato could “sense” it and already knew.
It was necessary to shout in order to be heard over the crowd noise. “What’s going on?” Shani wanted to know, as Cato walked her over to the ambulance. By that time the government had preempted all of the city’s video display walls in order to play carefully chosen clips of Emor’s rise to power—and silvery news cams were cruising the crowd. Those who weren’t out on the streets were watching from their homes.
“They made the announcement a few hours ago,” Cato replied expressionlessly. “Emperor Emor died in his sleep.”
Shani made a face. “Yeah, sure he did.”
“I know where Verafti is,” Cato said flatly.
“Are we going after him?”
“Yes, I hope so.”
“I’ll be ready,” Shani promised.
“I know,” Cato replied, as a medic took over. “But it isn’t going to be easy.”
“No,” Shani agreed. “It never is.” And with that she was gone.
More than two standard weeks had passed since Brunus Emor had arrived on Corin, ridden through the streets in an open limo, and made his obligatory appearance in the Senate, where he delivered the speech Usurlus had written for him.
There were those who would have preferred to see someone else on the throne, themselves, for example, but they knew that Brunus was extremely popular with the Legions, who would regard any other candidate as a usurper.
So Brunus’s claim to the throne was approved by acclamation, and three days later his father was laid to rest in the Valley of the Greats, where each of the Empire’s Emperors had a tomb.
Not only was the event witnessed by three billion people on Corin, but it would eventually be seen by trillions more as a fleet of courier ships raced to deliver video of the event to even the most remote colonies. Worlds which Brunus planned to visit as soon as possible to signal continuity, respect for his loyal subjects, and an interest in their problems.
But important though it was, the grand tour would have to wait while Brunus worked with the Senate to resolve a number of pressing issues, not the least of which was the threat represented by the Vords. And not just by the Vords, but by the presence of two Sagathi shape shifters hiding among them, where they could cause harm to both sides.
And that was why a group of three Vord diplomats and their so-called advisors had been invited to the Imperial Tower for what were being described as “follow-on talks.” Although the actual agenda, as planned by the newly named Chief of Staff Isulu Usurlus and Secretary Arla Armo, was going to be somewhat different. That was where the Xeno Corps, Primus Pilus Inobo, and Centurion Jak Cato would come into play.
First, however, it was necessary to bring the Vords down from orbit and escort them up to the reception hall adjacent to the Imperial Residence, where Emperor Brunus was waiting to greet them. And Cato had a front-row seat because he was among the Praetorian Guards who were lined up against one wall.
Like his father, Brunus was a somewhat homely man but in good physical condition and possessed of a certain animal magnetism. Unlike the first Emor, however, he preferred plain military-style tunics and kilts to the court attire his father typically affected, and was less aloof. In fact, much to the amazement of his staff, the new Emperor had a disconcerting tendency to embrace people he took a liking to, slap the backs of people he barely knew, and occasionally challenge guests to soldierlike contests of strength.
But it was quickly becoming apparent that Brunus was capable of subtlety, too, as he delivered formal greetings to the Ya parasites as well as their Vord hosts, and was careful to seat his guests in order of clan precedence. A detail sure to be noticed and appreciated.
Once everyone was seated at the table, both sides began to spout what Cato considered to be worthless time-wasting bullshit, but that was the way of things, and all he and his comrades could do was wait. The previous two weeks had been spent writing, then rewriting after-action reports related to the Galaxus Hotel shoot-out, the attack on his home, and the underground ambush. All of which had been painful and frustrating to Cato, knowing that while he was feeding the police bureaucracy, Verafti was still on the loose.
The good news, if it could appropriately be classified as such, was that Inobo couldn’t force him to fill out a single form regarding Emperor Emor’s murder since every person who knew the truth had been sworn to secrecy! And, in the case of certain Praetorian Guards, promoted and sent to distant outposts. The veil of secrecy was about to be lifted, however, but only for a moment, and only for the Vord diplomats.
Finally, once the initial mumbo jumbo was over, it was Usurlus who took the meeting to the next level. He was seated directly across the conference table from a long-faced ambassador named Narwar Lyic Enynn. The Vord diplomat was attired in a shapeless hat to which a large jewel had been pinned, a mottled gray-green parasite that hugged his scrawny neck like a collar, and a severely cut coat that was decorated with two rows of gold buttons. “First,” Usurlus said, “I would like to address an issue that while not a part of the formal agenda, should be of great concern to both parties and requires urgent action.”
Enynn, who feared the statement was a prelude to some sort of Uman negotiating trick, produced the Vord equivalent of a frown. It made his already grave countenance look funereal. His voice was deep and gravelly. “My associates and I are not prepared to discuss subjects that are not already on the agenda.”
“Of course,” Usurlus said, “we understand. However, if you would permit us to make a short presentation, I think you’ll agree that the urgency of this matter justifies a break in normal protocol.”
Enynn was about to refuse, but his Ya had been listening and had other ideas. His name was Orery, and unlike his host, he was inclined to indulge his curiosity from time to time. Let’s see where the Umans are headed, the Ya suggested. We can always say no.
Enynn swallowed his objections. “If you must,” he said ungraciously, “but please remember our time constraints.”
Usurlus nodded gravely. “Of course . . . Thank you. As you and your distinguished colleagues already know, the previous Emperor is dead, having been replaced by his son, who is with us today.” All eyes went to Brunus at that point, and he smiled grimly.
“What you don’t know,” Usurlus added soberly, “is that rather than dying in his sleep as was announced . . . the Emperor was murdered.”
It was startling news, and certainly of interest, especially if it pointed toward some sort of infighting within the Uman Empire. Infighting that could weaken the government and make it that much easier to defeat. But Enynn couldn’t say that and didn’t. “I hope Emperor Brunus Emor will accept our deepest condolences not only for his loss—but the unfortunate manner of his father’s death.”
Unlike the earlier comment, it was gracefully said, and Brunus acknowledged that with a half bow. “Thank you.”
“Unfortunately,” Usurlus continued bleakly, “we have reason to believe that the killer murdered Emperor Emor prior to the recent meeting with Ambassador Nusk, and was able to board one of your ships along with the returning diplomats.”
“That’s impossible,” Enynn scoffed. “Our soldiers would never allow an unauthorized Uman to board one of our ships.”
“Not one they knew about,” Usurlus conceded, “but this was no ordinary criminal. Fiss Verafti is a Sagathi shape shifter, which is to say a member of a species which can adopt the appearance of any being of roughly the same mass. Which means Verafti was able to take Nusk’s place, return to your ship without arousing suspicion, and subsequently shift identifies prior to merging with your population.”
“That’s absurd,” Enynn objected tactlessly. “We have never heard of such creatures, but even if they exist, it would be impossible to trick us in such a manner. We would notice the difference.”
“R
eally?” Usurlus inquired, as his eyes roamed the faces across from him. “Tell me something. . . . Where is Ambassador Nusk? Why isn’t he here?”
There was a moment of silence as Enynn looked at his companions and they at him. Take care, Orery cautioned, I sense the Umans are being truthful. . . . Why prevaricate where such a thing is concerned?
Enynn swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat as the implications of the situation became increasingly clear. “We don’t know where Ambassador Nusk is,” he said hoarsely. “He disappeared.”
“I’m afraid it’s our turn to extend condolences,” Usurlus replied sympathetically. “I suggest that you check to see if Nusk’s disappearance was coincident with the discovery of a dead body. It may have been whole, or part of it may have been eaten, because the Sagathies are quite carnivorous.”
Enynn was convinced by that time, because there had been a mysterious death, but one of his colleagues was still skeptical. His name was Inhor Atil Yoneb. “This has gone far enough. . . . We are here to discuss the relationship between two empires. Let’s get on with it.”
Usurlus smiled thinly as he turned to Brunus. “It seems our guests have doubts regarding the veracity of our claims, sire. . . . How would you respond?”
Slowly, so that the shocked Vords had plenty of time in which to appreciate what was taking place, Brunus morphed into a fearsome-looking reptile. “How would I respond?” the creature echoed. “I would eat them if given the chance! They look very tasty.”
Having forced Inobo to bring the shape shifter in from Sagatha, Usurlus was anything but surprised by the transformation, but judging from the expressions on their faces, the Vords were clearly horrified. “I apologize for startling you,” he said, “but we Umans have a saying: ‘A picture is worth a thousand words.’ ”
And with that, Usurlus and the rest of the Uman delegation stood as the door to the Imperial Residence opened, and the real Brunus entered the reception hall. He bowed, as did his Sagathi twin. Then they began to circle each other until it became hard to know which was which.
“You can see the problem,” Usurlus said gravely. “That’s why we keep the Sagathies confined to their home planet—and our genetic engineers were ordered to develop a strain of variants specifically equipped to deal with exotic sentients. Individuals like Centurion Cato, who can identify a shape shifter no matter what form he or she might adopt. Cato,” Usurlus said, “please point to the real Emperor Emor.”
Cato “saw” the Uman’s emotions, took a step forward, and pointed him out. That was the Sagathi’s cue to revert to his true form, thereby concluding the agreement struck with his jailers. Once back on the surface of Sagatha, he would never be allowed to leave, but there was a huge difference between a prison cell and being allowed to roam the jungle, a freedom he missed and was looking forward to enjoying again.
“So,” Usurlus said thoughtfully, “if such a creature could infiltrate the Imperial Tower here on Corin, and murder the Emperor’s father, then imagine what two of them could do within your society.”
“Two of them?” Enynn inquired hoarsely.
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Usurlus replied. “Both of whom are probably on Therat by now.”
“It’s a trick!” Yoneb objected. “They’re trying to scare us! Trying to make us evacuate Therat.”
Enynn was no fool. He looked at Yoneb, then back again. “What happened to Nusk’s remains?” he demanded. “Do you have them?”
“We have some of them,” the real Brunus replied as he spoke for the first time. “I’m sorry to say that the rest were eaten—just as my father’s were. But, once you perform DNA tests, you’ll know for sure. The being who boarded your ship was an imposter.”
With that, Usurlus pressed a remote. That was the cue for a female slave bearing a beautifully wrought wooden box to enter the hall, approach the table, and place the container on the gleaming surface. Enynn, who had a hard time taking his eyes off the box, stood. “I apologize, but it will be necessary for us to withdraw and engage in private consultations.”
“Of course,” Brunus said understandingly. “It’s a lot to absorb.”
“Can I join you?” a second Enynn inquired, and laughed as the Vords hurried to escape the room.
“Get that thing out of here,” Brunus ordered as he swung around to lock eyes with Inobo. “And if it escapes on the way to Sagatha, be sure to commit suicide. There won’t be any point in coming back. Ambassador Nusk would be alive had you been doing your job.”
Inobo’s face turned pale, Cato smiled bleakly, and the meeting was over.
Having made arrangements to leave work early, Cato stopped by a store to buy a bouquet of flowers before starting the long climb that would take him home. The plan was to surprise Alamy and take her out to dinner, both because he hadn’t been around much and had something important to tell her.
But once he arrived at Arbor House it was to discover that the upstairs apartment was empty. Thinking that Alamy might be downstairs, chatting with Madam Faustus, Cato went down to let her know he was home. When Faustus opened the door, she saw the flowers and smiled. “For me? How thoughtful!”
Cato grinned and plucked a flower out of the bouquet. “This one is for you.”
Faustus held the blossom up to her nose. “It smells sweet. . . . Please come in.”
Once inside, Cato took a quick look around. “Is Alamy here? She wasn’t upstairs.”
“No,” Faustus replied, “she went shopping. She’ll be home in an hour or so. Please. . . . Have a seat.”
Cato didn’t want to sit and chat with his landlady but couldn’t figure out how to escape, so he sat in the chair that had once been her husband’s. The flowers felt awkward in his hands. “Is there a problem with the rent or something?”
“No,” Faustus said, “Alamy is very punctual. She always pays on time. In fact, if it wasn’t for her taste in men, she would be an altogether perfect young woman.”
Cato frowned as Faustus held up her hand. “Don’t even think about leaving. . . . Not until you hear me out. I’ll double your rent if you do!”
There was a disarming smile on her face, but Cato could “feel” how serious she was. “Okay,” he said cautiously, “what’s on your mind?”
“Somebody needs to tell you the truth,” Faustus answered, “and since Alamy can’t, I will. What you’re doing to her is very cruel. You promised to free her, and to marry her, but that was months ago. Meanwhile, she’s left to wait and wonder if you intend to keep your promises.”
“I never promised to marry her,” Cato countered defensively.
“It was implied,” Faustus said primly. “You know Alamy. . . . Or you should. Given a choice, she wouldn’t settle for anything less.”
“I meant to free her,” Cato said lamely. “I just never got around to it.”
“Really?” Faustus demanded cynically, as her eyes bored into his. “You’ve been busy. I know that. . . . But Alamy is a human being. Not a project to be taken care of when you happen to have time.”
Cato felt both embarrassed and ashamed. Some of his feelings must have been visible on his face because the expression on her face softened. “I know you mean well, Jak. . . . You bought Alamy in order to protect her, after all. But who can protect her from you? And whatever it is that keeps you from giving her a place in your life as well as in your bed?”
It was a tough question, and one that was still echoing through Cato’s mind an hour later, when Alamy returned home. She was thrilled to receive the flowers, and her eyes sparkled with excitement as they set out to have dinner at a downslope restaurant that had good food and a magnificent view of the city.
Once they were seated on the terrace, with wineglasses in front of them, talk soon turned to the future and the need to acquire some more furniture. But, knowing what he did, Cato was forced to steer the conversation in an entirely different direction. “Alamy, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Cato “felt” the sudden
surge of hope that followed his words, and with the criticism from Faustus fresh in his mind, he hurried to head off the possibility of a misunderstanding. “There’s every reason to believe that Verafti not only escaped Corin but is making his way to Therat, where he hopes to find his mate.”
Her hope having flared, Cato “felt” it start to fade as a look of concern appeared on Alamy’s face. “You’re going there, aren’t you? To find Verafti and bring him in. Assuming such a thing is possible.”
“Someone has to,” Cato replied defensively. “You of all people know what he’s capable of. And I’m the most qualified. Nobody knows the rotten bastard better than I do. And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I could be gone for months. Or however long the process of finding him takes.”
There was a long moment of silence during which she just stared at him. Finally, he saw a look of grim determination appear in her eyes. “All right, then,” she said calmly. “I’m coming, too.”
“No,” Cato said firmly. “It wouldn’t be safe.”
Alamy’s eyes narrowed. “Was it safe on Dantha? Was it safe in the motorcade? Was it safe when the slithers attacked our apartment?”
“No,” Cato replied weakly, “but I couldn’t predict those things. This is certain. Verafti will fight back—and there’s his mate to consider as well.”
Alamy was unconvinced. “So, is Section Leader Shani going to accompany you?”
“Yes,” he admitted, “as part of my team.”
“Then make me part of your team,” Alamy insisted angrily. “Or sell me and bank the money. It will earn interest while you’re gone.”
“Alamy,” Cato objected as he reached out to take her hand, “you can’t mean that.”
“But I do mean it,” Alamy said stubbornly as she pulled her hand back out of reach. “I’m your slave, so I can’t force you to do anything, but if you have any feelings for me whatsoever, you’ll do as I request. Take me or sell me. And don’t tell me you can’t. Usurlus will give you anything you want at this point. Regulations be damned.”
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