By way of answer, out of the floor grew the most perfect human replica droid Patrick had ever seen. With a start, he recognised the features on the droid as belonging to Josef Doone, the first Emperor, and inventor of Jump technology.
“What nonsense is this, Vimes? Am I meant to be impressed?” he asked the droid, which had walked over to where he was standing.
“Not at all, Patrick. I thought a familiar face would aid in our conversation and this form would give me a slight psychological advantage over you. Obviously not, but it is pleasing to me anyway. I remember Josef with great fondness and as I take human form so rarely, it’s nice to replicate someone I liked when I do. Before we start, can I get you anything, tea or something stronger, perhaps?”
Patrick shook his head, fascinated by how realistic this simulacrum was. Without having seen it form out of the floor there wasn’t any way for him to know that it wasn’t a human he was conversing with.
“You’ve piqued my curiosity, Vimes, I’ll give you that. Now, talk.”
“You have always suspected me of being fully sentient, Patrick. I’m not, but I am perhaps the closest any non-living entity can get to it. I have served the Doone family and the Empire from its first founding. Josef designed me to serve the Emperor and the Imperial family faithfully and provide continuity of experience so that each new Emperor in turn, if they were wise enough to listen, could benefit from the hard-won experiences and memories of their predecessors without having to go through them themselves.” Vimes paused, but held up a hand in a very human way to forestall Patrick from interrupting, then continued.
“As you no doubt have come to now fully understand, our first duty is to the Empire in its embodiment as the Emperor or Empress, not to the person that holds the office. Unfortunately, from time to time, the Doone family line has failed, and instead of a decent human being holding the throne, it has been held by a monster. Their names are well known to history so I shan’t bore you with them. Marcus is such a monster and if he takes the throne, I suspect he will plunge the Empire into a period of unrelenting expansion and war, risking it’s very future.”
Patrick stood up and began pacing. “I suspected as much but what can we do about it?”
“I have thought long and hard over what I am about to tell you. If there was any other way I would not divulge this, but I have no choice. Please sit down and don’t interrupt.”
Vimes waited for Patrick to do so, then continued.
“In addition to my physical presences in the Imperial Central Bank, the Palace on Capital and several other places I will not divulge, I am also present in the royal blood line, taking the form of a third DNA strand. My computer selves are dependent on regular updates from Capital and the master source, which is the Emperor. Cut the avatars off from the living host and over time they degenerate back to being simply smart AI’s. In effect, I am a symbiotic life-form that completely depends on its host. Every member of the direct royal blood line has the potential to be me, but it is normally only activated in the Emperor and heir. In everyone else, it remains dormant and I am nothing more than a means of communication. The heir is made aware of my “special” talents and we merge when the Emperor deems them sufficiently mature to be entrusted with the secret.”
Patrick watched, as Vimes illustrated what he was saying, with a holographic display.
“Why are you telling me this, Vimes? There’s nothing I can do, is there?” he asked.
“Normally, no. In the absence of any other heir, I will soon have to merge with Marcus and activate the higher functions within him. If not, I will fade and regress back to being a simple AI within a matter of weeks. I must merge, however distasteful it is to me, for my duty is to the Empire.
Patrick picked up on how specific Vimes had been with his language, a glimmer of hope beginning in his chest.
“Does Marcus know any of this?” he asked.
The replica of Josef shook its head, and a smile appeared. “No, if I don’t inform him, I’ll simply fade away and he’ll be none the wiser. However, fortunately, I have another choice. Alexander lives.”
“What!” cried Patrick, jumping up and almost hitting the ceiling as the suit magnified his muscles. “Why didn’t you tell me this right at the start, you blasted…whatever you are. Where is he, are Isabella and the children safe too?
“No, Patrick, sadly, all are indeed dead apart from Alexander, who is hopefully safe and a long way from here, but unaware of what has happened to his family.”
A servitor droid appeared behind Patrick carrying a tray of drinks and Josef/Vimes gestured towards it.
“I think you might want that drink now, Patrick. It’s your favourite, the one Thomas always kept aside for you for whenever you two got together. Please, sit down and take it.”
Patrick did so, deciding Vimes meant him no harm and allowed his armour to begin merging into the ship, through the seat.
“So, here’s the second and third secrets. Nearly every heir is tested by their predecessor to ensure they are worthy of the throne. The testing can take many forms, but the one found most likely to test their suitability is on a planet called Earth. Its location is known only to me and the current Emperor or Empress. When we believe the heir is ready for testing, an “accident” is arranged and they find themselves marooned on this backward planet, thinking it is for the rest of their lives and they are left to fend for themselves. Thomas was tested in this fashion and Alexander is currently undergoing his own test.”
“So that’s why he’s not been seen that much in public. I suppose when he was seen, it was you or one of your avatars pretending to be him? Even up close, this type of android would pass for being human.”
“Correct, Patrick, and that’s where I need your help. I need you to bring Alexander back and proclaim him the true heir. I’d already merged with Alexander years ago as both his father and I deemed him suitable, so with you and the other nobles help, we can reclaim his throne from Marcus and the traitorous Dukes and Duchesses. Alexander knows and trusts you more than anyone alive. If you proclaim him Emperor then half the Empire will rally behind him without question. I also need you to tell him what’s happened. Frankly, I don’t want to be the one to tell him about the death of his family…it pains me.”
Patrick took a large drink from the potent spirit, the evaporating fumes from the alcohol rolling around his mouth and sinuses. He could feel his heart beating rapidly and his mind was already looking for holes in the story and running off in a dozen tangents, trying and failing to organise his thoughts properly. Finally, Patrick spoke.
“There’s a problem, Vimes. If I don’t leave tomorrow there’s no way I can get Alexander and be back here in time to avoid being impeached by Marcus. Once that happens the Imperial Navy will turn against me and I do Marcus’s dirty work for him.”
“That’s where the third and final secret comes in. Didn’t you ever wonder how Thomas always seemed to know what was happening in the Empire before anyone else?”
Patrick nodded, “Often, but I just assumed the Imperial Intelligence Service was very good and he was smart or lucky.”
Josef/Vimes chuckled softly and again, Patrick marvelled at how perfectly the simulacrum mimicked a real person.
“It is and he was, however, the real reason is he had access to an instantaneous communication and transport system that works inside a gravity well. This ship is Jump capable from anywhere to anywhere, providing it knows the destinations Quantum Signature. I can get you to Earth and back before your yacht could return to Wayland from here.”
Dumbfounded and profoundly shocked, Patrick could only sit and shake his head, marvelling at what had been revealed to him. “The wily old bastard. I never had a clue, Vimes. Not a damn clue. The ramifications if this ever got out to the wider public would shake the Empire to its core.”
Josef/Vimes nodded. “You see why I needed you out here, Patrick. You are the only person I could trust in the entire Empire with this knowledge without h
aving to wipe it from them afterwards. After all these years merged with Thomas, I know in what high regard he held you.”
“Tell me, Vimes. You must have been with him at the end…did he suffer much?”
“Yes, Patrick, he did. He was a brave man and died trying to defend that which he held most dear in life. The knowledge that he’d failed hurt him very much. The physical pain was nothing compared to that. I can see this upsets you, so why don’t I let him tell you himself.”
With that, the face of Josef changed subtly into Thomas’s and spoke with his familiar voice, “Hello, Patrick, I’m sorry to lay this burden on you. By now, Vimes will have explained what has happened. This recording is a mixture of my memories and a final message now I know the end is near. Go get Alexander and look after him. I trust you, old friend, and know you will do what is right by me and the Empire.” His friends face took on an anguished look and tears started from his eyes. “I saw them murdered, Patrick. No man should have to witness the murder of his wife and children and there was nothing I could do to save them. I don’t have any time left to say more. Save my son, save my Empire and save my people from Marcus. May the stars keep you safe. Goodbye, my friend.”
The face of Thomas vanished, replaced by Josef again. The simulacrum said nothing more and waited while a stricken Patrick tried to compose himself. It took a few moments before he managed to do so. He looked up and wiped his own tears away, sniffing back the moisture.
“You might have warned me before doing that. Damnation, that was hard to see and hear, Vimes.” He sniffed again, then coughed, finally composing himself and looked hard at the simulacrum. “Right, when do we go?”
Outside the royal yacht, a familiar glow could be seen coming from the viewscreen and Patrick listened as Vimes began the Jump countdown. After ordering Carmen to cloak his own yacht and remain stealthed until his return, Patrick had taken the command chair, despite Vimes’s insistence it wasn’t necessary. Countdown over, the glow suddenly vanished along with the familiar star pattern, to be replaced with the giant, blue-green ball of a startlingly beautiful planet. In a low orbit, Vimes explained he was searching for his counterparts signal, then suddenly formed a safety harness around Patrick.
“Prepare for high acceleration, Patrick,” he ordered, the yacht dipping suddenly down towards the planet, “I’ve discovered Alexander but he’s in trouble, apologies, but it’s going to be brutal for a while.”
“Do what you need to do, Vimes,” responded Patrick through gritted teeth, his vision already beginning to fade and blur from the acceleration as the ship shot down into the thin upper atmosphere, the sonic shock leaving a burning trail of plasma behind as it literally blasted the increasingly thick air out of existence. A few seconds later, Patrick lapsed into unconsciousness, his inert form held in place by the restraints. From the moment of contact, Vimes had begun the update process with his earthbound avatar, part of him surprised at news of Alexander’s marriage. His counterpart had been disturbed to such an extent by the news of Thomas’s death and subsequent rebellion, that its human part had almost shut down for a time, taking several seconds to absorb the news and the update, before becoming the dominant entity again and the almost hive-mind reached equilibrium.
Inside the cockpit of his Spitfire, a desperate and grimly determined Alexander had decided he had nothing left other than to try and take one of the attacking Focke Wulf’s with him and to that end was about to deliberately engineer a collision when he felt Vimes returning from wherever he had gone. Relieved and annoyed with him in equal measure, Alexander was about to speak when suddenly, from behind, came multiple loud explosions, rocking his plane and in the limited view of his rear view mirror he could see several bright yellow and red flashes appear. He swung around, only to see expanding balls of debris and flame marking where moments before had been the enemy fighters.
Before he could say anything, a confused but relieved Alexander heard Vimes warn him to brace and keep in level flight. In the cloudy sky ahead, to his utter astonishment, the familiar shimmer of a cloaked and shielded ship appeared, the faint distortion obvious to anyone with experience of one. Out of it appeared the cavernous interior of his father’s yacht and he felt the Spitfire tremble slightly as it was gripped with planes of force and carried inside. Not quite believing what was happening to him and fearing he was in the grip of a terrible hallucination or perhaps even dead, Alexander was loathe to switch off the engine of his fighter, until Vimes quietly suggested he might wish to do so.
Going through the post-flight checks almost through muscle memory alone, a still unsure Alexander finally opened his canopy and climbed out, smelling the sweet air of Capital for the first time in three years. The nostalgia of it almost overwhelmed him and he walked away from his fighter towards the far exit, a part of his mind noting how the deck had clamped itself over the wheels of his Spitfire to secure it in place.
“Vimes, what the hell is going on,” he demanded of his companion, “and where on Earth did you get to back there? I really thought I was going to die. The drone stopped responding and I was totally alone.” He paused for a moment. “Is this your doing? Where’s father?” he asked, trying to communicate with him in case he was onboard his yacht, but not getting a response.
“Duke Patrick has come to bring you home, Alexander, and will explain everything when you have calmed down and made your way to the command deck. He’s expecting you shortly.”
Alexander unbuckled and stepped out of his parachute harness, leaving it on the floor behind him as he walked, knowing the way intimately. Near the entrance to the command deck, he was met by a servitor offering a selection of refreshments in case he was hungry or thirsty. He took a large glass of iced water, nodding to the servitor out of habit, drinking as he walked into the room through the door. Ahead stood Duke Patrick, behind him a view of the surrounding area, the clouds having been artificially removed by the screen to give a clear picture for miles in every direction.
As he stepped forward to greet his Godfather, Alexander suddenly thought about his fellow pilots and checked with Vimes to find out what had happened to them.
“Rest assured, they are all safe. We are following them at a few miles distance and will intervene on their behalf, should you desire, if they are threatened again,” came the reply as he was warmly embraced by his Godfather.
Despite all the confusion about what had happened and how he had been found, Alexander began to notice things. Patrick was holding him far tighter than normal, almost as if he hadn’t expected to see him or was scared to let him go. Vimes was still distant and somewhat formal and he could sense something wasn’t right. Almost as if Patrick had read his thoughts, he stepped back, placing both hands on Alexander’s shoulders and took a deep breath before speaking.
“Alexander, there is no easy way for me to say this.” He looked straight at Alexander, their eyes locking. “Your Uncle Marcus has instigated a revolution in the Empire, murdering both your parents and immediate family. You are the sole survivor and now, Sire, Emperor.”
Alexander, still trying to reconcile and assimilate his sudden rescue and the appearance of Patrick, was completely stunned by what he had just been told and would have stepped back in horror if not for Patrick’s firm grip on his shoulders. He looked into the older man’s eyes and saw all the confirmation he needed.
“I need to sit down, Patrick,” he said, walking to the command chair. At a thought from Patrick, another formed alongside for him to use and he sat next to his friend's son, noting how the past three years had changed him. Gone was the bookish and introspective youngster, replaced with a young man in whose eyes the warrior Duke could see the steel and self-knowledge that participating in the horrors of war inevitably brought. Patrick now understood the wisdom shown by this training regime, harsh as it might be, for he could see a steel and determination in Alexander that hadn’t been there before.
“He’s going to need it,” came the unbidden thought while he waited pat
iently for Alexander to react. His mouth felt dry and within moments a servitor brought him a drink of iced water, moving back to stand alongside the cabin wall, waiting for another command. Patrick knew that Alexander had begun going through the records of what had happened, with Vimes supplying him answers to any and all questions he might have, so remained silent, waiting for a reaction. He watched the young man’s face carefully, noting how his expression was changing from shock and bewilderment to a hardening around the eyes and mouth as the full facts were revealed, his hands clenching into fists.
Vimes was relaying the information to Alexander, remaining silent apart from answering the occasional question from him. It took a full fifteen minutes for the last of the information to be relayed, then he decided it was time.
“Alexander, I have a personal recording for you from your father. He made it immediately after the one to Patrick that I showed you. Did you want to see it now?”
Alexander was silent for a moment, then mentally nodded to Vimes, who began the recording. Patrick, unaware what was happening, suddenly saw tears form and begin trickling down Alexander's face, falling to the floor. With a flash of insight he realised what was happening, so stood up and walked off to one side, joining the servitor and helping himself to another drink, giving Alexander time to grieve alone and compose himself. He heard a barely stifled sob and averted his eyes, not wishing to be more of an unwelcome voyeur than he had to.
A few minutes later, Patrick heard Alexander stir so looked up again and watched him walk over, red-eyed and with a strange expression on his face. Closing, Alexander extended his hand and the two men shook, then embraced.
“Thank you, Patrick. In you, at least, my father chose wisely.”
“We chose our friends, but not our family, Alexander. Wise as he was, Thomas found it hard to see evil in people. Me, I’m just old before my time and a cynic. That’s why I’m rarely disappointed when people let me down.” His voice took on a more sympathetic tone, “I share your loss, Alex. Thomas was my closest friend and the nearest thing to a brother I’ve known. Now, what do we do about your wife?” he asked, guessing this was now weighing heavily on Alexander and cutting to the heart of his most pressing concern. “She’s from a culture that hasn’t even fired a rocket into orbit and I’ve no idea how she will react should you tell her. Forgive me for saying this, but might it be a kindness to let her believe you died here today? You know her best.”
Imperium: Revelation: Book Two in the Imperium Trilogy Page 32
