The View from the Imperium

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “Aye, sir,” Anstruther said. She began to dictate directions.

  I strode through the smaller avenues until I came to a street market. I wove between the tents, admiring the neat pyramids and displays of goods for sale and smiling at the sellers and buyers. They smiled back, some raising their pocket communicators to take my picture. Anstruther directed me to the left, away from the spaceport, but gradually circling in that direction.

  “Parsons, they will comprehend I am heading toward the ship,” I said. “Perhaps not by what means, but where else would I go?”

  “I am examining alternatives, sir,” his voice crackled succinctly in my ear. “Please stand by.”

  Local denizens stopped to stare at me or run up to take pictures. I waved and bowed to everyone I passed, until I went by a shop that sold console screens. To my shock I saw my image repeated again and again on screens of every size from enormous to miniature. My progress was being followed live on the local programs by all those amateur reporters who had access to a communication device and a Grid connection! I slunk away from the shop front, trying to look anonymous, but the crowd behind me continued to grow. There was no way to avoid it. Anyone could see me, including Captain Sgarthad. So far I had stayed ahead of the pursuers. I hoped that I could keep them guessing.

  But not forever. Beside the soaring, white marble fountain half a block ahead at the next intersection, I saw uniformed, tattooless guards marching toward me, keeping an eye on their own communicators.

  “Anstruther, they’re ahead of me, a hundred meters,” I murmured.

  “Turn around, sir. I’ll change the route. Commander Parsons?”

  “Acknowledged.”

  I spun on my heel and increased my pace. Those admirers and reporters who were following me stopped short. The people behind them, eyes on me, piled into them. Some tripped and fell, cursing.

  “I beg your pardon,” I said to them, extending a hand to a young woman in a tight green tunic and boots. “I was just summoned by the council. Very important.”

  “It’s all right,” the woman said, smiling up at me. “We’ll go with you.”

  Unfortunately, my throng attracted the attention of the guards. I tried to scoot between tents, but I knew my opponents could track me easily by my escort.

  “One side, people!” a rough male voice cried out. “Move it!”

  I heard protests and cries of outrage from the beings on the street, upset at being pushed aside. I fumed at the rudeness of the Trade Union. They could have been more courteous. Still, I did not want to meet them to discuss the matter. I ducked into a nearby alley. To my dismay the crowd came along.

  In my ear, I heard Oskelev cry out. “Get your paws off me, hairless! Ugh!” The ping! of gunshots alarmed me.

  “Oskelev! Redius? What happened?” I called.

  Nesbitt replied instead. “They’ve got Redius, sir. He bit off one of their noses. They used a spray on him! I—uh!”

  The transmission was cut off.

  “I have to go back,” I said.

  “No, sir,” Anstruther said, firmly. “You’re the one who matters. We signed up for this. We will defend the ship until you get here. I have engaged the repulsors. If we have to lift, we will.”

  “Very well,” I replied, feeling angry with myself. I hoped Parsons was not in danger of being captured himself. I opened my stride to a lope.

  “Who was that you were talking to?” a teenaged boy asked, coming up alongside me.

  “One of my friends,” I said, forcing myself not to be brusque.

  “Can I be your friend? You can write on my Grid file!”

  I gave him an apologetic grimace. “Certainly. Would later be convenient? I have to meet someone.”

  “Okay,” the boy said, sounding disappointed. He dropped back. I opened my stride.

  I turned into a narrow alley, too narrow, I was pleased to see, for more than two people to walk abreast, or any conveyance other than foot. I realized I had thought so too soon. A baby carriage pushed between the admirers at the front and came up to roll along beside me.

  “Oh, no,” I groaned. I must have some kind of physiognomy that attracted the programming of nanibots! I dodged it. It moved as I moved, until I could not avoid speaking to it.

  “I am sorry,” I said, sidestepping it once more at the very last second. “I do not have time to look at your baby. It must be a beautiful and talented child. Please accept my compliments.”

  It swiveled on its axis and followed me at my own loping speed.

  “Lord Thomas, is that you?” the rich, feminine voice asked.

  I sought a refuge of some kind in the lane. From Anstruther’s constant narration in my ear, the Trade Union guards were closing the distance. They would be on me in minutes. “Yes,” I said absently. “Of course, you must have heard of me when I was introduced at the ceremonies. Or in one of my many interviews. Pleased to meet you. I am sorry if I did not get your designation. So many people, you understand us mere humans and our faulty neural memories.”

  “Lord Thomas, I am Emby.”

  At first the two syllables made no sense to me. Then, with the shock of lightning, comprehension struck.

  “Emby?” I asked, as I rounded a corner, looking for a handy passageway or stairwell into which I could duck and become invisible. “Not MB-6594AD?”

  The LAI sounded pleased. “Yes, Lord Thomas. It is I. I have a new job. I have been here six months. It has been most interesting absorbing all of the files and insinuating myself into the local industrial complex. I have been looking for you. Since your arrival I alerted all of my comrades in the LAI community to seek you out. And here you are.”

  “Well, I will be painted blue,” I declared, patting the top of the carriage. “I am glad to see you, but at the moment, I am pressed. I am being followed by soldiers who mean me no good.”

  “I will protect you, Lord Thomas. Hop inside.” The front of the carriage yawned open.

  I eyed the dimensions of the baby-blue pocket thus revealed. “I won’t fit, Emby, but thank you.”

  “You will fit easily. I am rated for up to four hundred kilograms of weight and two cubic meters of payload.”

  “Really?” I glanced behind me. The soldiers had entered the alley. One of them shouted and pointed. They started running toward me. I ducked. “They will see me get in.”

  “No, they will not.” A mechanical grasping arm rose from the top of the carriage and pointed ahead to the right. “There is a public convenience. I will follow you inside.”

  “I need to go in there,” I explained to the crowd at my back. There were some sympathetic noises. I slipped through the composite plastic door. I expected privacy, but a few of the crowd actually came inside with me. I stood in the tiled enclosure, looking at them in dismay.

  “The lights will go out in five seconds,” Emby announced. “Four. Three. Two. One.”

  My followers exclaimed in shock as the lights extinguished themselves. A tiny blue light indicated my target.

  I jumped in. The vehicle’s springs bowed under my weight and rose gently, supporting me with no effort at all. I folded myself up. It was a tight squeeze for a man as tall as I, but the shock padding meant to cradle a small child rearranged itself to form outward until I could move my knees away from my chin. We bumped over the threshold of the convenience and back into the street.

  “How did you do that?” I asked. “The lights, I mean?”

  Emby sounded pleased with himself. “I have many friends in the artificial-intelligence community here on Boske and in other points around the Castaway Cluster. We exchange favors and stories all of the time. The electricity grid is run by four brains. Three of them are friends of mine. DS-9993ON was happy to oblige.”

  “Oh.” I knew little about an LAI’s personal life. I examined my nest. I thought it would be dark inside the carriage, but it was lit by a screen the size of a dinner plate that scanned our surroundings. The baby would be able to see out without danger. I enjoy
ed the novelty of passing my foes and seeing the puzzled looks on their faces as they threw open the door of the convenience and found only tattooed locals inside. “Where’s your charge?”

  “Cadwallader is at home. I was having the front glide of this nanibot shell replaced. It was faulty, but the previous LAI did not have the credits to have the repair done. It consumed eighty years worth of credits in my account, but it was worthwhile to make the investment. Now this unit is back to factory standards and should not need maintenance for another fifty years. I also updated my communications link and visualization hardware.”

  “Well, you did a marvelous job,” I said. I wriggled a little, feeling the padding give around me. It was wonderfully comfortable, though I had to keep my knees bent in front of me. My lower back and neck were supported by thick padding that smelled faintly of lavender. “I thought I’d be bruised up, jamming myself in here. I recall a party in which we played Murder. I was the first victim, and the murderer locked me in a small cabinet under the dais in the throne room. I never knew there were cabinets under the dais . . .”

  “You related the story to me, Lord Thomas,” Emby reminded me. “Seven years and four months ago.”

  “So I did. Forgive me. You were in food service when I last heard from you,” I said. “Where’s the LAI who used to own this carriage?”

  “Food service on a pleasure ship from Carstairs to Dree,” Emby said. “We correspond.”

  I had no idea that they swapped jobs, or what they did with their pay. Well, one learned something new every day. I would have gladly passed along the data to Parsons, but I expected that he knew it already. He always knew everything long before I did.

  “Where were you going?” Emby asked.

  “Away from that mob,” I said. I explained my situation in as few words as I could, keeping back only the confidential material that Parsons and I shared. Emby turned on his axis again and rushed directly into the crowd. “What are you doing?” I cried.

  “Taking you to safety at my employer’s home. Cadwallader is the son of very rich family. They will secure you for the moment. My electronic companions will prevent any knowledge of you reaching the Grid. In the meantime, please be comfortable.”

  “Thank you,” I said, relieved to have a respite. “It is good to see you, Emby, though most unexpected.”

  “I may say the same,” Emby replied, circling through the market and making a left turn into a deluxe shopping district with awnings over every doorway. “What are you doing here on Boske, Lord Thomas?”

  “I am learning to be useful,” I said, proudly.

  Chapter 33

  “Where are you, sir?” Parsons asked.

  Emby’s hatch opened and disgorged me from the blue baby’s nest onto a soft, green cushion three meters across. The cushion all but consumed me, but I fought my way upright. The tapestry-lined room had equally soft lighting. The décor was antique, colorful and beautifully appointed, running to stained glass windows and embroidered pillows on the rest of the seating. I was in a lounge of the home where Emby worked.

  “I am safe, Parsons,” I said, grinning at Emby, who closed up his compartment and settled the nanibot body down among its glides and wheels like a dog curling up. “I ran into a friend. You will never guess who has moved out here! Go on, guess. Even you will be hard-pressed to come up with the name . . . or designation.”

  “It is not important, sir.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “No, it is not. Three of your staff have been taken prisoner. Two more are under siege on the launch pad. Communications have been curtailed greatly. It is uncertain how long the scout’s shields will hold.”

  I pulled myself together. He was right. As cheering as it was to encounter an old friend, I did take my responsibilities seriously. “Are you at liberty?” I asked.

  “I am at liberty, sir. I may say no more.”

  “What will we do, Parsons?” I asked, hoping I did not sound as forlorn as I felt.

  “I have a possible lead on the location of our missing officers,” he said. “Of that I may also say no more at this time out of concern for signal-tapping.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “You are also in great danger at this time.”

  “I know!” I exclaimed, appalled. “I can’t believe that Sgarthad tried to snatch me like a brass ring.”

  “Not merely this last, crude attempt. He is more cunning than a mere kidnapper. Have you examined the Grid in the last hour, sir?”

  Emby did not pretend he wasn’t listening. A tiny light flashed on the side of his carriage, and a large screentank embedded in the wall over the warmly glowing fireplace came to life.

  I had a choice of hundreds of feeds from the Grid, so I selected one at random.

  “Say, that is the man to whom I gave an interview this afternoon,” I said, recognizing the distinctive eyebrows and yellow and blue tattoos of the elderly opinion reporter talking sincerely to the camera. “Look, there’s an image of me. Not bad.”

  “Listen carefully, sir,” Parsons said.

  “. . . the master criminal calling himself Lord Thomas Kinago,” the pundit said, lowering his thatched eyebrows darkly. “I have an exclusive interview from our beloved and trusted friend, Captain Emile Sgarthad.”

  Sgarthad’s image swam up and was surrounded by beacons of light.

  “It is with heavy heart I let all of you know that he has deluded all of us into believing he is a noble sent by the Imperium. He is none of the things he has claimed. His extraordinary appeal is artificial, enhanced by drugs and hypnosis. He must be taken into custody immediately. If you see him, notify the reward line at once. My sales associates will apprehend him on sight.”

  I was aghast. “That rat! He is making me look terrible! What will people think?”

  “What he tells them, sir. I have located the missing lady, sir.”

  “You have?” I asked, automatically accepting a glass of wine from a robotic arm that reached out from the liquor cabinet beside the fireplace. Emby was dispensing hospitality. I raised my glass in toast to him and to the absent Parsons. The cryptic reference could only mean the ambassador. Some of the tension in my body eased. “That’s one piece of good news. What about the others? Do we know where they are being held?”

  “I will seek out our missing staff. When that is accomplished, we will lift ship at once. Under the circumstances, it would be better if you remain out of sight until we are prepared to make our attempt.”

  I was still staring at the screentank. On every channel, Sgarthad’s calumny was being repeated. I was furious.

  “What about him, Parsons?”

  “There is nothing to be done, sir. He has embedded himself into this society. We must get word to the Imperium about the situation, though it will be days, if not weeks, before the information reaches a monitor who can convey the message, at which time it may well be moot. Sgarthad is turning the Cluster into a Trade Union outpost. Departure is our most important action. Safe return, at least of the information we hold, is vital. If only one of us can manage to communicate with Smithereen or an Imperium vessel, the word will be given, and greater action can be effected. This is the only plan available to us at the moment.”

  I thumbed my lower lip thoughtfully. No matter how effective the action was, it might come too late to retain the Cluster as a part of the Imperium. That was not what Shojan wanted, or what I wanted. An idea was forming in my mind, like a landscape unrolling. “Have you deduced the import of the fact that Captain Sgarthad looks precisely like my cousin Xan?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “We can do more, Parsons. We are being counted upon. I must say no more.”

  “No, sir,” Parsons said, with alarm rising in his normally calm voice. “Please inform me of your whereabouts. I will join you.”

  I was adamant. “No, Parsons. I will not let you know where I am if you don’t let me do what I want!”

  “That is a childish threat, sir, a
nd unworthy of you and your position.”

  Embarrassment flooded my soul. The short, sharp shock of common sense brought me back to my right mind. I took a sip of wine. Its warmth restored calm in my soul. “I apologize, Parsons. I forgot myself. It was unworthy of me. It was said in the heat of the moment. I have a plan of my own. If it is a good one, will you support me in it?”

  “I will, sir. What is it?”

  “Capture, Parsons,” I said, relishing the bloodthirst I felt as I watched that perfect face appear on channel after channel. “We can’t let this . . . cuckoo’s egg remain in this placid little nest another day.”

  Resignation colored his tone. “And what do you propose, sir?”

  I sat back in the green cushion with my wine glass raised. “I am so glad you asked.”

  * * *

  My face on the viewpad screen must have come as a shock to Captain Sgarthad. I enjoyed the poleaxed expression as he sputtered out a greeting. I had had a marvelous dinner in the company of Cadwallader’s parents, who were glad to give me shelter for the night. Their home security system was engaged and enhanced by some of Emby’s friends, so there was no chance of scan or accidental discovery disclosing my presence there. Emby had been busy exchanging beeps, pings and buzzes with hundreds, if not thousands of his colleagues in the LAI community, reassuring them that he had known me for years and I was not the monster that Sgarthad claimed I was. He had credibility among them. I was relieved to have at least part of the Cluster population on my side. I kept that in mind as I regarded my enemy.

  I sat at my leisure in the gold and green lounge, at my ease on a large chair, my torn shirt mended and cleaned by the household robots, hair combed, face shaved, feet propped on a foot rest, wine glass at my elbow. Sgarthad did not look as comfortable.

  “Well, Lord Thomas, I didn’t expect to hear from you!” he said heartily. His cheerfulness rang as false as a lead coin.

  “I am surprised.” I held up my glass to him. “When you have been saying my name over and over again on every Grid feed that I can find? It would seem almost as if you are calling out a challenge to me.”