The Fifth Quadrant

by C. J. Ryan

  It took a moment to register. Me?

  All around her, people were applauding. They opened a path for her, and Petra found herself walking dazedly forward, then up the steps to the bandstand, where the smiling Emperor awaited her. He put a hand on her shoulder and maneuvered her around till she stood next to him. Petra looked around, still not certain there hadn’t been some mistake.

  Charles raised an arm, quieted the crowd, then dipped his hand into a pocket of his tunic and withdrew a blue-and-gold ribbon with a large gold medallion dangling from it. “Petra Nash,” he said, gazing directly into her eyes, “in recognition of your outstanding and meritorious service to the people of the Empire, and with deep personal gratitude for a job well and bravely done, I am pleased to present you, on behalf of three trillion grateful and admiring subjects, the Imperial Distinguished Service Medal.” With that, he draped the ribbon around her neck. The golden ornament, with a profile of Hazar the Great etched on it, felt cold and heavy as it nestled between her breasts. She found it hard to breathe.

  As the applause swelled, the Emperor bent down and said, “Congratulations, Ms. Nash. Would you do me the honor of the next dance?”

  Petra gulped and nodded. Charles took her by the hand and led her down to the dance floor. The orchestra began to play “Moonlight Serenade” as the Emperor put his arm around her and guided her around the floor.

  “I’m glad we finally had the chance to meet,” Charles said. “Gloria often speaks of you.”

  “She mentions you, too, sometimes, Your Highness,” Petra managed to reply.

  “Favorably, I trust?”

  “Uh…mostly, sire.”

  “Yes, well, I’m hoping I can enlist your aid in a most important matter, Ms. Nash. As you must be aware, I’ve asked her to marry me again and become Empress. I fear she’s reluctant to leave Dexta, however, and I know she would not want to be separated from her dearest friend. So you must promise me that if Gloria agrees to become Empress, you will accompany her to Rio and serve as her personal assistant.”

  “Uh…”

  “And, of course, if you do, you won’t simply be Petra Nash.”

  “I won’t?”

  “No, you’ll be Lady Petra of Weehawken. Sounds rather nice, doesn’t it? You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever ennobled anyone from New Jersey before.”

  Petra nearly tripped over her own feet, but the Emperor smoothly rescued her and smiled down at her. At six feet four inches, he towered over her.

  “Your…Your…uh, Highness,” Petra stammered, “I…I…”

  “You will help me persuade Gloria, won’t you? As Emperor, I know the importance of having strategic allies.”

  “I…uh…”

  Charles laughed indulgently. “Say no more, Ms. Nash. Just keep my request in mind, if you would.”

  “I certainly will, Your Highness.”

  “Splendid.” As the song ended with the familiar swirl of Miller reeds and muted horns, the Emperor leaned over and gave Petra a kiss on her lips. Then he stepped back and led the crowd in applauding her once again. Amid the kaleidoscope of color and noise, Petra saw the Ellisons standing at one side of the room. Mr. and Mrs. Ellison were clapping politely, Steffany Fairchild looked supremely miffed, but Pug was staring right at her, grinning, and slapping his hands together with enthusiasm. Petra grinned back at him.

  Maybe she was glad to be here, after all, she thought.

  AMONG HIS OTHER ACCOMPLISHMENTS, ELI Opatnu proved to be an excellent dancer. To the strains of “I’ve Got You Under My Skin,” he whirled Gloria around the dance floor with grace and aplomb.

  “I’m so happy for Petra,” she told him. “She’s had a tough time of it lately.”

  “Honors well deserved,” Opatnu agreed. “And you didn’t do so badly, yourself. But then, you already got a medal for Mynjhino, didn’t you?”

  “You’ll get one of your own someday, Eli.”

  “I doubt it,” he said. “Certainly, I won’t get one for what I have to do now. Gloria, you have to shut down the investigation of Wendover and the double-flagging operation.”

  “What do you mean, I have to?” she demanded angrily. “Where do you get off telling me to do a thing like that? I realize it might be an embarrassment for your Sector, but—”

  “You don’t understand, Gloria. I’m not telling you this for myself. I’m speaking on behalf of Ed Smith.”

  Gloria looked up at Opatnu in openmouthed shock. In return, he gave her a guilty shrug.

  “Did you imagine you were the only one in Dexta who had a debt to the zamitat?”

  “Spirit!” Gloria breathed.

  “I’m just thirty-seven,” Opatnu said, “and I’m already a Level Seven and a Sector Administrator. I’d like to think that my native abilities had something to do with that, but the truth is, I’ve had some help. Of course, that kind of help isn’t free. You should realize that by now, Gloria.”

  Gloria took a deep breath and let the air out very slowly. “I guess I did realize it,” she said. “I just didn’t think I’d be making a payment so soon. It won’t be easy to tell Jill.”

  “Jill will get over it,” Opatnu assured her. “And what does it matter? This Wendover thing is just routine. The zamies aren’t asking you to sell your soul to Beelzebub. They just want a little help. They turn a few extra crowns on the double-flagging, a couple of minor Dexta officials get some kickbacks, and the Empire loses a little tax money that it will never miss. As I said, it’s routine.”

  “And what’s in it for you, Eli?”

  “The continuing gratitude and cooperation of Ed Smith and people like him. I get to look good, appear to be clean, and go on doing what I think has been pretty good work for the people of the Empire. The same goes for you, Gloria.”

  “I suppose so,” she said. Ever since that meeting in the restaurant with Ed Smith, she had known this day would come. She had accepted it then, and she had to accept it now. It was just quid pro quo, after all. Routine.

  OPATNU CAUGHT DUBRAY’S EYE, THEN FOLLOWED him into an unoccupied sitting room just off the ballroom. “You told her?” DuBray asked him.

  Opatnu nodded. “The deed is done,” he said.

  “And how did she take it?”

  “She accepted the necessity. You know, this whole thing would have been much easier if you’d told me in the beginning that she has a debt to our friends.”

  DuBray shrugged. “If I had known, I would have. That’s one of the problems in dealing with our friends. Half the time, one of their hands doesn’t know what the other hand is up to. Fortunately, I got to wondering how she dealt with Manko and made some inquiries. It surprised me a bit, I can tell you. Pure and high-minded Gloria VanDeen!”

  “She’s as human as the rest of us.”

  “And as flawed, it would seem. In any case, our friends will be pleased that the investigation has been buried. With the new product ready to hit market, this was no time for complications.”

  “I just wonder how Jill will take it,” Opatnu said.

  “Jill?”

  “Clymer. The one who was running the investigation.”

  “Of course. Why, will she be a problem?”

  “Probably not. But she won’t be happy about it.”

  DuBray clapped a hand on Opatnu’s shoulder. “Take some advice, Eli,” he said. “Stop worrying about other people’s happiness. We don’t do these things to be liked, you know.”

  “Why do we do them?”

  The two men stared into each other’s eyes for a long, silent moment. Finally, DuBray said, “What else is there?”

  “WHY DO I HAVE TO DISCONTINUE THE INVESTIGATION?” Jill Clymer demanded. “I’ve worked hard on this, Gloria, and I don’t see why we should just stop in midstream.”

  Jill had raised her voice a little when Gloria gave her the news, so Gloria took her by the arm and led her off to one side of the ballroom. The band was playing “With a Little Help from My Friends.”

  “Jill,” Gloria
said, “I appreciate all the work you’ve done. But the way things are shaping up, with the restraining order and everything, it looks as if this could drag on for months or years. I just don’t think this is the kind of thing that OSI should be getting involved with. Send me all the files you’ve put together, and I’ll see to it that the Comptroller’s Office gets them. It’s more their sort of thing, and maybe they’ll want to pursue it. But as of now, OSI is out of it.”

  “Is this your decision,” Jill asked, “or are you getting pressure from higher up?”

  “Nothing from higher up,” Gloria replied, accurately, if not with complete honesty. “It’s my decision.”

  “Well, I don’t like it.”

  “You don’t have to like it, Jill. You just have to do it.”

  “I see.” Jill stared at her for another moment, then turned and walked away.

  It hadn’t been so difficult, after all. In fact, Gloria was mildly surprised by how easy it was.

  Routine.

  HAPPY BUT EXHAUSTED, GLORIA AND PETRA returned to the suite at the Imperial Cantabragian sometime after two in the morning. During the limo ride, Petra had alternately stared off into space with a distracted half smile on her face and babbled almost incoherently. The prospect of becoming Lady Petra of Weehawken had all but unhinged her. At the same time, she was well aware that Gloria had not made up her mind about becoming Empress.

  “Maybe you could do both,” Petra had suggested. “Be Empress Tuesdays, Thursdays, and weekends, and Director of OSI Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”

  “I don’t think that would work very well.”

  “Then alternate weeks? Or months?”

  “You really want that title, don’t you?”

  “Well…yeah, I guess so. Spirit, Gloria, I don’t know. I mean, I’d hate to leave Dexta, but…well, you know…”

  “Yes,” Gloria said, “I do.”

  “And the Emperor!” Petra gushed. “I mean, he’s just so handsome and tall and dreamy. How can you resist him, Gloria?”

  “I’ve had plenty of practice.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I see what you mean.” Petra had lapsed into silence for a while and stared out the window of the limo. Then a goofy smile crept over her face and she said, “I danced with the Emperor!”

  They walked into the suite, with Petra humming “Moonlight Serenade,” and Gloria noticed the message light on the pad she had left on the coffee table. It proved to be a message from Norman Mingus, asking her to come upstairs to see him when she got in, no matter how late.

  After a moment’s indecision, Gloria reluctantly removed her diamonds and slipped into some jeans and a tee shirt. She knew Mingus liked to see her in full flower, but she had a feeling that this was not the right time. She said good night to Petra and went to the elevator.

  There was still a gaggle of Bugs upstairs, but she breezed through them, was met by an aide, and directed into Mingus’s bedroom. She found him there, in pajamas, robe, and slippers, sitting quietly in a comfortable chair. On the table next to him stood a bottle of what appeared to be Belgravian whisky, reputedly the best in the Empire. No milk and cookies on this night. Gloria walked over to him, gave him a kiss on the cheek, then sat down in a chair next to his.

  “You missed a good party, Norman,” she said. “I’m sorry you weren’t there, but I understand.”

  “I saw some of it on the vid,” he said. “You looked very enticing. And I’m pleased for Ms. Nash. She deserved that medal.”

  “And she gets to be Lady Petra of Weehawken if I go back to Charles,” Gloria said. “But I think it would be nice if she also got something from Dexta.”

  “Yes,” said Mingus, “I had thoughts along the same line. She’s a Thirteen now? Very well, in the morning, you can tell her she’s a Twelve.”

  “Thank you, Norman. That’s very sweet of you.”

  “Nonsense. She’s earned it.” Mingus turned a little in his chair to look directly at Gloria. “As for you, young lady, I ought to demote you for that harebrained stunt.”

  “You gave me the job, Norman,” Gloria said placidly, “and harebrained stunts were always a part of it.”

  “I never meant for you to put yourself at risk like that.”

  “If I hadn’t been there, it would have turned into a stalemate, or worse. I did what I thought was necessary, and it worked.”

  “I can’t deny that,” said Mingus. “Nevertheless, I would prefer it if your personal interventions remained strategic rather than tactical.”

  “Don’t get too attached to me Norman,” Gloria advised. “You could lose me, one way or another.”

  Mingus stared at her for a moment. “Charles?”

  “I’m still considering it,” she said. “I’m going to spend some time with him tomorrow after his speech. Maybe I’ll be able to make up my mind.”

  “I see,” he said. “Naturally, Gloria, I hope that you’ll decide to remain with Dexta. But you must do what you think is best for yourself. Forgive me, would you care for some whisky? Or anything else?”

  Gloria shook her head. “No thank you. I’m fine.”

  Mingus lifted a tumbler to his lips and took a slow sip of the Belgravian whisky. He held the glass there for a moment, wordlessly staring off into the mid distance.

  “Norman? I’m awfully sorry about what’s happened.”

  “As am I,” he said as he put the glass back down on the tabletop. “Oh, I’m certain I shall survive the storm, personally. Internal Security has seen to it that those who are aware of what transpired between Ms. Nash and my grandson will keep their mouths shut. What scandal there is will quickly dissipate. My grandson’s trial will be a private affair, under Imperial Security, and no one will ever learn the full truth of the matter. Except for you, Gloria. That’s why I asked you here tonight. I think you deserve to know.”

  “Petra told me what Whit said, so I think I have some idea of what actually happened.”

  Mingus shook his head. “No,” he said, “you don’t. Only four people ever knew the whole truth of it, and now one of them is dead. Cornell DuBray and my daughter are the others.”

  “You don’t need to tell me, Norman,” Gloria said.

  “Yes,” he said, “I do. I need to tell it, and you need to hear it. If you truly intend to run Dexta someday, you should know what that entails. You should know what it might cost you.”

  Mingus poured some more whisky, then took a healthy swig of it. “Belgravian,” he said. “Are you sure you won’t have some?”

  “Maybe a little.” Mingus reached for a second tumbler and poured a couple of fingers of the amber liquid into it. Gloria took a sip of it and let its silky smoothness caress her tongue for a moment.

  “You know that I was Quadrant Administrator here in the summer of 3163,” Mingus began. “I already had prospects of rising to the position of Secretary, but that was not yet a certainty. My predecessor, Tom McIntyre, still had a few good years left in him, and I had a potential rival or two. Still, my prospects were good, and I intended to make the most of them. I tell you this because it’s important that you keep in mind as you hear what follows the central fact of my personal ambition. Whatever my other motives and justifications for what happened, they cannot be separated from my sense of self-interest, my sense of entitlement. If you are to judge me—and you will—you must keep that in mind.”

  “I have no intention of judging you, Norman,” Gloria protested. “I don’t want to do that.”

  “You must,” he said. “And inescapably, you will.”

  Mingus drank some more whisky and focused his gaze on the darkness in a far corner of the room. “We were going to have a war,” he said. “A big one. Everyone knew it. We had been fencing with the Ch’gnth for hundreds of years, and by the middle of the last century, conflict had become all but inevitable. The Emperor, Edward III, had been on the throne for more than thirty years and had just a few more years to live. He was not a bad Emperor, and he had some competent people around him. And T
om McIntyre was, at his best, quite capable. Yet there was a pervading sense of drift in those final years before the war, a lack of focus. We were not truly prepared for the war we knew was coming. I suppose no one quite believed that it would really happen. The Empire hadn’t fought a major war in nearly a century, and the prospect of one seemed unreal, somehow. We stood on the brink of a precipice, idly playing lawn croquet as the ground crumbled beneath our feet, and wondered only how that would affect our next shot. It’s one of those things that historians and posterity can never truly understand because they weren’t there and didn’t breathe the same air as we did.

  “So there I was, Administrator of a Quadrant that was about to explode. And I knew, to a near certainty, that when the Ch’gnth attack came, it would be focused on Savoy, just seventy-five light-years from where we sit. Just three days away for a battle fleet. Ch’gnth space was closed to us, of course, but we had some scattered intelligence reports from neutral traders, and we knew that the Ch’gnth were assembling a powerful strike force in the region. And, of course, galactography virtually dictated that they would attack Savoy. It was a salient, intruding into space that was rightfully theirs. Once they had it, the entire Empire position in this Quadrant would be at risk. Their next target would surely have been New Cambridge, and from there, they would have had a clear path leading to Earth itself. Thus, the strategic position.”

  Mingus took some more whisky, then continued.

  “We weren’t blind to it, of course. I had been sending warnings to Earth for years. I was rather strident about it, in fact, and I suppose that contributed to their tendency to discount my recommendations. In any event, little was done to strengthen materially our position here. Oh, there were plans aplenty, the occasional Fleet Exercise and what have you, but somehow the essential gravity of the situation never truly penetrated. It wasn’t until negotiations finally broke down in June of 3163 that anyone in authority on Earth fully appreciated the urgency of the situation. So they quickly threw together a shipment of arms and sent it to New Cambridge, for transshipment to Savoy. It arrived here in August. But by then, it was too late.” Mingus looked at Gloria and added, “Or so I believed.”