Fortunes of the Imperium

by Jody Lynn Nye

  Skana felt a thrill of anticipation tickle her up and down. “You want to tell our fortunes?” she asked.

  Toliaus held out a hand.

  “I must know if you have truthful vibrations. What do you hold that means much to you?” he asked.

  Skana decided to take him at his word. She pushed back her sleeve to reveal a heavy silver bracelet with a round dial on it. It had aged to a gunmetal patina that she wouldn’t have polished off for the world.

  “This is our seventeen times’ great-great-grandfather’s wristwatch,” she said. “This timepiece goes back almost to Old Earth. One of us wears it all the time.”

  The summing glance again. Skana felt as if she were being stripped naked by his eyes, not that he was going to be interested in a human.

  “So it is a relic of importance to both of you?”

  “Yeah,” Nile said.

  “May I hold it?”

  “Why not?” Skana said. She unfastened the clip and dangled the watch above the High Wisdom’s palm. He seemed to jump with shock when it landed. He closed his eyes and hummed to himself.

  At last he opened his eyes. He drew the bracelet from his palm and refastened it around Skana’s arm. Her skin tingled at his touch, as if electricity passed between them. Did he really have some kind of magical powers?

  “Our stars are in favorable confluence,” he said. “I am pleased.”

  “We’d like to know more about you, too,” Skana added. “What exactly is your position in court? Enstidius has been pretty cagey about you. Until five minutes ago, we had no idea who or what we were dealing with.”

  Toliaus inclined his head.

  “He understands that a word out of place can mean death,” he said. “My official title is Advisor and Teacher to Her Excellence the Autocrat Visoltia. You may call me High Wisdom. I sit in the cabinet of ministers. All authority resides in the Autocrat’s hand, but I am the one who guides that hand by invoking wisdom and history. I also read the portents to see where one of her commands might take our nation of stars.”

  “So you’re the court wizard,” Nile said. “You seem to have a cushy job. Why do you need . . . our merchandise?”

  The question made Toliaus throw himself up off the divan and pace feverishly around the room, barking out staccato sentences. His translated voice boomed from their translators.

  “Because I have an enemy! The Autocrat has an enemy. She is very young, and under the influence of one who would control her. She must be protected so she can grow to wisdom. That male holds her back. He holds back all of our worlds. We, the Autocracy, must grow out from the old-fashioned customs that have prevented us from entering the current century—nay, the current millennium! I see fortunes waiting to be made, honor and glory that will benefit . . . Her Excellence.” Skana noticed the hesitation. She exchanged a quick but meaningful glance with her brother. “This male prevents open trade. He puts restrictions on the movement of goods and designs that would benefit the Autocracy. He restricts wealth.”

  “That sounds bad,” Nile agreed. “A free market needs to have the lid off so it can find its own level. That’s how we do things at home.”

  “But you could not if you lived here,” Toliaus said, wringing his long hands together dramatically. “All is held in check. All! I have listeners who read his files and correspondence, and those who challenge him. He brooks no competition, nor does he permit dissension. All must be the way he sees it. He has so little imagination that billions of our subjects, the Autocrat’s subjects, live in enforced poverty. It must come to an end. Once he is not there, then the natural way of things will resume, and for that I must thank both of you. You have brought me the solution to a dire situation.”

  Nile nodded.

  “If all that’s standing in your way is one person, you’ll have no problem getting rid of him, as long as he doesn’t know you’re coming,” he said. “You’re sure you have no spies in your camp who will inform on you?”

  “None. There were two, but they are gone.” The flash of hatred in the High Wisdom’s dark eyes left Skana no illusion that the traitors had just left town.

  “You do what you have to,” she said, with a shrug. “That reminds me, did you take care of the little problems for us, the people who brought you your solution?”

  Toliaus glared at her. She knew what that meant. It was defensiveness for having failed. She glared back at him.

  “What is so hard?” she asked. “It’s not like those pilots can run away from you. They’re in jail. Once they go to trial, things will start to come out!”

  “Those premises are not under my control,” Toliaus said, through clenched jaws. “I have made four attempts of different kinds. They have been thwarted. I must be subtle. Disposing of witnesses can be done afterwards.”

  “I don’t want anyone who knows what they’re looking at to be able to ask questions, let alone examine the bodies,” Skana said.

  “It will be done! But, later, once my rival is removed. I can easily take over his station as well as my own. Then I can make sure backs are turned before testimony is heard.”

  “What can we do to help?” Nile asked. “We have common goals.”

  Toliaus frowned. He looked from the brother to the sister and back again. He seemed about to speak when a middle-aged male servant in a livery different from the rest of the High Wisdom’s staff entered and bowed deeply. Toliaus flicked a finger in acknowledgement.

  “Contact has been made from beyond, my lord,” the servant said. Toliaus frowned.

  “So soon?”

  “They must return to us, master. They have to come through now.”

  “Very well. How many?”

  “Five, sir,” said the servant. “My lord, I must return to my post before I am missed.”

  Toliaus lifted his chin.

  “Go, then. Tell them to wait my pleasure.”

  “I will, my lord.” The servant spun on his heel and strode smoothly from the room. Toliaus stroked his flat jaw with his fingers as though deep in thought, then turned his attention back to his guests, his mood expansive once again.

  “The fates move into even more benevolent conjunctions, my friends,” he said. “All things will change very soon. You shall be witness to a new chapter in history!” He beckoned to the servants, who came to refill their glasses and fill their plates with more canapés and sweetmeats.

  “When is it going to happen?” Skana asked, breathlessly.

  “Very soon. Two days from now. Her Excellence is entertaining other visitors from the Imperium on the anniversary of her accession. At that event, attendance by all her ministers who are presently in-system is required. There will be a banquet. He will be there, with his attention on our ruler and her guests. Enstidius, my friend, that is when you will bring us two to glory.”

  Enstidius’s mandible chattered with excitement. He sat up straight on his divan. Skana could tell he worshipped the minister.

  “It will be my pleasure, High Wisdom.”

  “That is what we were hoping for,” Skana said. “I want to watch the whole thing.”

  “You shall,” Toliaus said grandly. “I expect a defense to be mounted, but it will be too late for my enemy.”

  “What’s the target’s name?” Nile asked.

  Toliaus glanced at him.

  “Better that you do not have that information, lest by movement or word you hint to him that he is in danger.”

  Nile shrugged.

  “Have it your way. But if Enstidius misses him, I could take him down before he can organize a defense.”

  “He will not miss,” Toliaus said. “But if he does make an attack that is only partly successful, then you will have divined at whom he is shooting.”

  “Fair enough.” He nodded to Skana. They’d dealt in other hard situations with far less information and come out of it alive.

  “There are rules of attendance, including dress,” Toliaus continued. “Enstidius has the details. You will be invited formally
later today. You will need to don Uctu garments for the event. We will dress in Human attire.” He looked her bright green hooded gown up and down. “I like what you have on.”

  “It’s yours,” Skana said, promptly. She eyed him, measuring his shoulders in her mind. “I think it’ll fit you, although it may be a little short. Just give me something to change into, and you can have it.”

  Toliaus dropped his jaw in a genuine smile. He snapped his fingers, and a servant ran out through a small door at the rear of the chamber. She returned shortly with a bundle in her arms and knelt before Skana. The female shook out the parcel to reveal an embroidered tunic that Skana thought must have taken a hundred hours to sew by hand.

  “That for this?” she asked, in amazement. “You have to be kidding.”

  “I will gift you jewelry, too,” Toliaus offered, looking hopeful.

  “No, I mean . . . thank you,” she said. “This is the most beautiful dress I have ever seen.”

  “This old thing?” Toliaus asked, surprised. “It is nothing special. I have had it for years. I prefer the simplicity of the garment you are giving me.”

  “Wow. You and I need to sit down and talk fashion when all this is over.”

  She slipped behind the curtains of the divan and wriggled out of the green dress. Two of the Uctu servants helped her put the embroidered tunic on. It was so long it dragged on the floor, but one of the servants tied a sash around her waist and yanked part of the dress upward so it hung over the belt. Skana smoothed the fabric, feeling the silky threads beneath her hands. So far, she was enjoying her brush with greatness.

  A servant came in and handed Toliaus a hexagonal tablet. He glanced at the screen, then swept a long forefinger down its face to blank it. He dipped his head in the Bertus’ direction.

  “Very well. I must depart from you. Be well. Enstidius, be vigilant.”

  “I am, High Wisdom,” the stocky Uctu assured him. He stood up and beckoned to the siblings. “Come, my friends. It is time for us to go.”

  “This guy’s crazy,” Skana said, as soon as they were on their way back to the hotel. Toliaus had not only given her jewelry, a necklace of big moonstones the size of pigeon’s eggs set in gold, but he handed out more tunics and priceless goodies to Nile, Tuk, Nile’s girlfriends and all of the Bertus’ bodyguards. Everyone clinked when they walked.

  “They pay well,” Nile said, flipping a huge ruby pendant at her. “I’ll be happy to keep taking their money.”

  Skana glanced back over her shoulder at the palace façade. She touched the privacy setting on her viewpad and heard the hum of the anti-eavesdropping tone that would foil listeners, electronic or otherwise.

  “Nice place. It’s not the first time we’ve done a walkthrough of something we knew was going to get leveled. We’ve got Plan B all ready to go, right?”

  “Yeah,” Nile said. “The self-destruct codes all have a back door we can set off if we have to. But I don’t think this guy will waste the firepower on us. He just hates this other minister too much.”

  “Never assume,” Skana said. “Like Mom always told us, keep the ship running and an eye on the door.”

  She glanced back over her shoulder toward the hulking mass of the palace.

  “Enstidius, when we come back, someone is going to have to airlift me to the door. I’m not walking through this again.”

  Enstidius slowed down and hurried back to her side. “I will see what I can do, if Toliaus will permit. Only the Autocrat rides over the maze. The rest of us must walk.”

  Skana looked him square in the eye.

  “Make an exception,” she said. “We’re the ones with the key codes, remember?”

  The Uctu nodded nervously. Ignoring the blisters already bursting on her heels and small toes, Skana swung away from him and marched after Tuk.

  CHAPTER 33

  As the shuttle conveyed them upward, Commander Parsons kept his eyes fixed upon the ships docked at the impound station orbiting Dilawe 4. The three Uctu Customs Police kept their distance in the spacious cabin out of courtesy, not wishing to appear to be eavesdropping, which of course they were. Parsons’s own small listening devices picked up the presence of “bugs” and observation lenses that the Uctu wished them to ignore. He would not mention them if they did not mention his. Donal Nirdan, of Ambassador Galeckas’s staff, rode with them. Parsons knew he made this trip frequently to negotiate on behalf of Imperium merchants and other travelers.

  With Lord Thomas and the others safe within the palace confines, the rest of the team was free to make an inspection of the imprisoned merchants’ ships.

  Lieutenant Plet had gathered her small force for an intense briefing. She had properly downloaded the protocols for dealing with evidence in an active investigation, and assured the authorities that she and the team would act within those parameters. Parsons did not need to check whether she had been thorough; she always was. He found it rather touching that she chided herself fiercely if she made an error. For all her outward maturity, there was a youthful soul that needed reassurance. Still, she was proving to be an excellent operative, and would be of great use to the Imperium for many decades to come. The others were intelligent and resourceful, each in their own way. His choices for a semi-permanent staff to support him and Lord Thomas had borne out his predictions. It was to be hoped that he could keep this team intact until his young lordship was capable of making his own decisions, though the Kinago trait of loyalty would undoubtedly compel him to keep staff whether or not they proved to be useful on an ongoing basis. Parsons was torn as to whether or not he should guide Lord Thomas to grow out of that tendency. He would have to wait and see if it got in his way in future missions.

  They passed two other impounded ships before coming up on the one they wanted. The Entertainer was a moderate-sized trading ship, at least fifty years old, showing signs of pitting and ordinary wear.

  “It stinks in here, sir,” Anstruther said, waiting in the engineering section beside Parsons with her tablet ready. The engineering section, in which they stood, lay in a protected position between the living quarters and the broad, empty cargo bays. Nesbitt clambered down the ladder between the hull and the waste tank to make a full physical inspection. Plet shone a light from the access port to follow his movements.

  “The ship has been unoccupied for several weeks,” Parsons said. “The waste tank was opened by the authorities. It is possible that a leak remains that allows methane gas into the ship’s cabin.”

  “No, sir, they all look intact,” the large noncom said, his voice hoarse and tinny through the speaker in Anstruther’s tablet. A video pickup attached to his chest followed his gloved hands as he ran them over the welds and brackets. “I don’t see any breaches or welds where the hull plates were opened.”

  “Are there any other access ports where that fighter could have been inserted into the tank?” Plet called down to him.

  “No, sir,” he said. The disembodied images of his hands tapped lengths of foils stamped with holographs and embossings overlain with six-sided stickers up to a third of a meter wide. “The original seals are still in place, though they have been slit and resealed with Autocracy official labels.”

  “Those mean the ships are active crime scenes,” Nirdan reminded them.

  Plet turned to the lead inspector, a ruddy-scaled middle-aged female wearing a dark blue robe and black boots like her fellows, but she had six-sided silver badges on her cuffs.

  “You were the ones who detected the contraband, weren’t you?” They nodded. “Do you have any idea how that ship got into the waste tank?”

  “No,” said the lead investigator. “It makes us concerned that we have missed many other smuggled items.”

  “And you have no idea where they could have taken on such an item as a war shuttle?” Nirdan asked Anstruther.

  “No, sir,” she said. “No other drydock facilities report working on their ship. They could have loaded it into a cargo bay in deep space. I know there’s
a bunch of jockeying around out there if someone is carrying above the duty free allowance of certain goods. But that’s the cargo bays, sir. The waste tanks aren’t designed to be opened out there on any Imperium ship. Even if there are vacuum valves to protect the living spaces, there’s still too much of a chance of a life-support rupture.”

  Nirdan cringed. “We’ve seen the results of that, too. I didn’t like having to view the bodies before everything was sent back to the Core Worlds for investigation, but it was part of my job. Sublight, it took two years to fly them home.”

  “Couldn’t have been nice for the relatives when they got there,” Oskelev said.

  “Out of curiosity, why aren’t the waste tanks designed to open in deep space?” Nirdan asked. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to dispose of, er, unpleasant matter elsewhere?”

  “It’d require too much reverse engineering of most vessels, sir,” Anstruther said. “And, no, it looks like these ships weren’t altered for such a maneuver.”

  Nesbitt climbed up the ladder again. Redius gave him a hand getting out of the access port.

  “I need a drink of water,” he said. “Is life support still running?”

  “Yes,” Nirdan said. “We try to keep the vessels in good condition, hoping that the crews can reclaim them at some point.”

  The big man pushed past them into the living quarters of the ship. He returned with a beaker in his hand and a disgusted look on his face.

  “What is the matter, ensign?” Parsons asked.

  Nesbitt held out the cup.

  “This water, sir. It tastes terrible.”

  Plet immediately took the cup from him.

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “It’s brackish tasting, almost musty,” Nesbitt said. “Can water go moldy?”

  “It shouldn’t be like that,” Nirdan said, looking over Plet’s shoulder into the glass.

  “If the life support system is functioning, the water filtration system ought to be working, too,” Plet reminded him.