The View from the Imperium

by Jody Lynn Nye

  * * *

  Sgarthad intercepted me in the marketplace, where I was giving an interview to a gruff old gentleman in dusty robes and peaked eyebrows. DeKarn had assured me that he was one of the important opinionmakers, and was not easily swayed by words. When the old gentleman bowed suddenly, I spun to find my nemesis at my shoulder.

  “How nice to find you here, my lord,” Sgarthad said. “Busy day?”

  “Busy but enjoyable,” I assured him. I took in his escort, five men and women in ochre-colored uniforms and faces like blobs of dough. Was everyone in the Trade Union ugly but Sgarthad?

  The captain took my arm. “Come have lunch with me. I would relish a chance to get to know you better. May I offer you a tour of the city?”

  “I’ve already had several,” I said, apologetically. The man’s assumption of authority annoyed me. “Civic groups and so on.”

  He raised a tapering eyebrow. “Ah. Perhaps I can tempt you with a tour of the Marketmaker. It’s the very latest model of long-range merchant ship. We always say we can pack a small moon on board.”

  “I’d enjoy that,” I said, politely though privately I would enjoy it more without him. “But another day. I have an appointment to attend a gallery opening.”

  “Then let us have lunch and I will escort you there,” Sgarthad boomed, slapping me on the back. “I know a fine little place. They always reserve the best table for me and my friends!” I winced. I found him overbearing and blowhardish. If sales required any subtlety, he would have been a failure.

  Sgarthad escorted me into his open-topped vehicle, driven by a shovel-faced brute whose collar barely fastened around his thick neck. The captain and I stood on a platform in the rear.

  “So the public can see us better,” he said.

  Looking very uneasy about the arrangement, my staff followed in our car. Redius sat beside the driver. Nesbitt and Oskelev were behind him, weapons unlocked but kept in their laps.

  We pulled away from the marketplace, turned right and out onto the main boulevard. A crowd with banners to wave already lined the long, wide street. I suspect that Sgarthad had set up this demonstration to show me how well-liked and accepted he was. In fact, he had considerable numbers of fans. Most of the people lined up on the curb seemed sincere as they shouted and waved to him.

  “Sgarthad!” they cried. One woman held up a baby and made it wave to him. Sgarthad, grinning boyishly, accepted it as his due. Then, the crowd saw me.

  The cheers for the captain died away, as they looked from one of us to the other. Then the shouts went up again.

  “Kinago! Kinago! Kinago!”

  “Lord Thomas!”

  “Hurray for the Imperium!”

  “Lord Thomas!”

  “They got my name from the Grid,” I said, with creditable self-deprecation. Sgarthad did not like it, I could tell. I offered an apology. “It is only because I am a novelty. We bare-faced ones. There are so few of us that they can’t help but notice. Listen, they are calling your name as well.”

  “Yes,” Sgarthad growled. From then on he continued to wave, but his expression was sulky. I took up the slack, smiling and waving to a steadily increasing throng. Sgarthad moved away from me and activated his communications link. I ostentatiously gave him privacy, but my staff was on alert.

  “Thomas, can you hear me?” Anstruther’s voice said in my ear. “I’m monitoring a call from your location. You’re in danger. They’ve got something going, and you’re the target.”

  “I doubt it,” I said, blowing a kiss to a young woman jumping up and down on the curb. “They wouldn’t dare touch me. I am the emperor’s cousin! They haven’t shown much concern for the Imperium. He blasted me off the stage at my speech. What could he do to me out here in public?”

  Chapter 32

  “They held me in one of these cells for a while, but as it turns out they aren’t too observant,” Colm Banayere explained. “I used Covert Service training to get out one night. I have a college friend who’s down on his luck. We’re about the same height and coloring. They can’t tell one set of tattoos from another. He’s been occupying my place, eating the food and wearing the clothes they leave for me. I’d find it boring, but he’s happy. He gets to spend all his time playing console games, leaving me free to investigate. I have been monitoring off-world communications. I was so relieved when your ship arrived. I have been following your group for days waiting for an opportunity to get one of you alone. It hasn’t been easy, until I discovered you are the only one who goes out by himself. I took it as an indication you were my contact.”

  “That is by design,” Parsons said, pleased by the young man’s perspicacity. “I need to locate Ambassador Hiranna Ben, who departed from the Core Worlds months ago for this system. Do you know where she is?”

  “Six cells down from mine,” Banayere said promptly. “And there are more prisoners. My employer, the First Councillor, was one of them. They were only let out the morning you arrived. Because you came.”

  Parsons put his overalls on and followed the young man through the sparsely populated streets to an industrial storage facility in a warehouse district. The youth noticed Parsons looking up as they entered. “Oh, don’t worry about security cameras. I triggered them to loop on empty space. Everyone else is following your people around. I have the loop timed to end at shift change. They hardly ever look at the prisoners in between.”

  “That is perceptive of you,” Parsons said.

  “That’s my job,” Banayere said cheerfully. “Here she is.”

  As Parsons stood guard, the young man donned a plastic glove and held it to the panel beside one of the steel doors. When it slid back, a small, plump woman rose from a steel chair at a desk in alarm.

  “Pray calm yourself, madam,” Parsons said. “I am a representative of the emperor.”

  Ambassador Ben held herself erect for a moment, then threw herself into his arms and sobbed.

  * * *

  “The council was about to lift the isolation order and let me present my case to the people, but Captain Sgarthad’s traders got to me first,” Ambassador Ben said, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief supplied by Parsons. “I have been in here for months without outside contact. I cannot confirm the length of time, because there is no clock or calendar. I am ready to face my opponents. Anything is better than being closed up here without even a documentary program. I already speak Wichu.”

  “At the moment, it is safer for you here than outside,” Parsons said.

  Ambassador Ben looked dismayed. “Commander, I am accustomed to being alone for long stretches, but this is undoubtedly the most boring time I have ever spent.”

  Banayere smiled. “I can adjust your console so you get all the Grid feeds, madam,” he said. “I did it for my employer, Councillor DeKarn, while she was locked up here.”

  She smiled at him. “That will be sufficient, then. How is my friend?

  “She is well, though frightened and worried,” Colm told her. “I have been keeping an eye on her.”

  “You are Colm, aren’t you?” Ambassador Ben said, patting him on the cheek. “Leese told me how much she prizes you.”

  The young man actually blushed under his tattoos. He bent underneath the console to hide his face. Parsons was amused.

  “I shall return for you before we lift ship for home, Ambassador,” Parsons said. “I will keep you apprised of events.”

  “Very well,” she said. “I will await you eagerly.”

  Banayere emerged from below the desk. Ambassador Ben settled herself with dignity at the screen. It lit up with a blare of music and graphics showing parades, children on horseback, a Cocomon in flight on filmy wings, and serious-looking adults in robes. “This is the hourly Grid report,” a deep male voice stated. Hiranna Ben let out a happy sigh of contentment. She was engaged in the program before the two men closed and locked the door behind them.

  “What else can I do to help?” the young man asked, as Parsons led him on a swift ma
rch out of the warehouse.

  “I require information from the Marketmaker’s databases,” Parsons said.

  Banayere grimaced. “Sorry, sir. I found an interface, but I haven’t been able to break their encryption. I just don’t have the tools or training.”

  Parsons smiled. “Then we may complement one another, Mr. Banayere,” he said.

  * * *

  We never reached the restaurant. I found my host’s behavior increasingly strange as we rode through the streets of Pthohannix. The crowds had increased in size as had their shouts of acclaim for me. Sgarthad wore an expression of pique mixed with smug anticipation. That was, I reflected, a lot to expect from any face, even one as pleasing to behold as his.

  At the intersection of the large avenue with an industrial road, Sgarthad’s driver took a sharp left across several lanes. People who had risked life and limb walking along beside us in traffic were left forlornly behind. They made their way to the curb, accompanied by loud hoots from the cars and trains in the stone rail trenches. My staff’s car was left behind in the scramble of vehicles.

  “Curses to him,” Redius’s voice said in my ear. “Will follow as possible. Maintain transmission!”

  “Where are we going?” I asked pleasantly. Any reply would be heard by my staff.

  “To our shuttle,” Sgarthad said, with a mischievous grin. “I didn’t want all of those people coming along with us. It was cruel, but they will forgive us. You wanted to see my ship. I can give you a brief tour before your next appointment.”

  “That is very kind of you,” I said.

  “Not at all,” Sgarthad declared, sitting down. He took hold of my arm and pulled. I sprawled in the corner seat. “The road is bumpy here. Take care.”

  The neighborhood we had entered was an industrial complex. The air was filled with the sharp, unpleasant smells of lubricant oil, trash and sewage. From a crowd of thousands, the local population was reduced to a few dozen drivers of heavy goods vehicles and living beings overseeing the loading thereof. As we passed, they looked up and waved or cheered, then went back to their jobs.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Our car bounded into view. Redius had taken the controls away from the driver and had followed us. It was flanked by three cars containing Trade Union personnel.

  “Sir,” Parsons said in a low murmur. “Can you hear me? This is a secure channel.”

  “Go on as you can,” I said.

  “What?” Sgarthad said.

  “I trust your driver,” I said, with a vacant grin. Sgarthad frowned at me.

  “You are with the captain, sir? Then it is vital that you listen to me carefully.”

  “So what is it like to run a merchant vessel for the Trade Union?” I asked Sgarthad, fixing my eyes on him. “Tell me all. When did you get your first commission?”

  The captain looked pleased, as if he had managed to fool me into not believing I was being abducted. “I was sixteen when I entered the Merchant Marine,” he began. I nodded and smiled at intervals, fixing my ears upon Parsons’s voice.

  “I have sent a data-gathering probe into the database of the Marketmaker, sir. As you may know, they maintain a system analogous to our Infogrid, or the Cluster’s Grid.” I nodded to myself. Such commonalities always proved to me that beings across the galaxy were far more similar than different, regardless of species. “I have unlocked Emile Sgarthad’s file. He descends from a scion of Imperium nobles who moved to the Trade Union four generations ago. I have cross-referenced the name of his ancestors. They left out of disdain for the Empress of the time and took new names. Sgarthad is, in fact, of the Melies clan, sir. He is a fourth cousin of Lord Xanson. That is why he resembles him so closely. He rose rapidly through the ranks due to his driving intelligence and inexplicable charm. He volunteered for this task, to chip away at the Imperium’s territory, beginning with an outpost that is already isolated.”

  “Do you mean . . . ?” I began, stunned.

  “Making money?” Sgarthad asked, with a fierce grin. “Of course. Money is power. I learned long ago . . .”

  Parsons picked up on my opening. “I do, sir. You understand the implication. He must be stopped. The genetic imperative is less effective in the Trade Union, but it is inexorable here. He knows what he is doing. I will inform your staff as to what they need to know, without the confidential family information.”

  I was taken aback, but could not look as if I knew. I sat, digesting what I had just heard, balancing it against what I had seen over the last many days.

  So that measuring thing he used on me was an information-seeking device. Sgarthad was looking for the correct symmetry to see if I was like him, and verified it. That thug knew. The secret about my family that went back millennia, in the hands of our greatest enemy? I felt violated and concerned. I was to disappear. Everyone would think that I went to see the Trade Union ship. Only after I had been gone a while would anyone question my absence. He would have full sway over the people again. Not mine, of course. They were trained. But they were outnumbered. And so was I.

  I don’t know why it took me so long to realize I was being abducted, possibly because of the very novelty of the idea. Sgarthad was maneuvering me into a place where I and my staff could be taken in private. Not a stunner had been drawn as yet; no doubt Sgarthad thought that his charm was enough to keep me placid until it was too late. Now we had to depart before it was impossible to escape. We were in a warehouse district now. The trenches for the light rail system were wider and deeper than in other streets. The buildings were enormous, with doors the size of houses, but there were fewer people nearby than in the previous district. I could not count on help from the public.

  The same was in the minds of my crew. I heard a roar. The second car caught up to us, but the other vehicles had pursued it. We were surrounded.

  “Hop on board!” Redius shouted. I made as if to spring. Sgarthad caught me by the collar. One of his men moved toward me, a spray dispenser in hand. With regret, I shrugged out of my red coat and bounded into the car. Nesbitt stood up in the back and aimed his sidearm directly at the driver of the nearest car.

  SPLAT! The stun charge ricocheted off the hood and into the face of the dark-skinned female driver. She swerved, hitting the trench walls, jarring three personnel off and into the street. They rolled to a halt and leaped up. The car stopped, the driver collapsed over the control panel. I coughed as we zipped through a cloud of acrid smoke from its scorched circuitry.

  Bumping up over the edge of the train trench, Redius made a U-turn, and rocketed off. I crouched, holding on to the side of the vehicle with all my strength. Sgarthad glared furiously at me as we went by him. His car and the others spun to follow us, but we had a short head start.

  “Sir, we’re going to get you back to the ship!” Nesbitt barked.

  We reached the wide boulevard. Redius cut into traffic. Oskelev and Nesbitt exchanged fire with the Trade Union soldiers. People in the streets ran screaming. Redius turned right on the next street, a narrow two-lane. He took another right, then a left. The Trade Union cars kept up with us. Pedestrians leaped to safety, tumbling onto pavements. Vehicles crashed into one another, dumping their screaming passengers to the street. I cringed in sympathy for them. The whine of pulsing engines made me look up. I saw three flitters in the distance homing in on us.

  “Make some distance!” Oskelev growled.

  “Not so easy,” the Uctu protested. “Thomas, prepare to eject.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a good idea,” Oskelev said, eyeing me anxiously. “They’ll think you are in the car. They see it, they’ll chase it.”

  As if to confirm, a voice spoke in my ear.

  “I just overheard the order to intercept and capture, sir,” Anstruther said. “Four more vehicles are on the main boulevard heading toward the end of the street you’re on.”

  A screech behind me made me jump. I looked back to see two of the Trade Union carriers cut off a small car coming out of an alley.<
br />
  “Go, sir. We’ll distract them,” Nesbitt insisted.

  “I can’t leave you at their mercy,” I protested.

  Redius leaped the car into the oncoming lane to pass a heavy goods vehicle. He slowed down and shoved my shoulder. “Go!”

  I hesitated, more concerned for them than myself.

  “Run, sir,” Nesbitt insisted, his craggy face earnest. “Now. We’ll cover you. Get back to the ship.”

  I looked from one to another. “But what about you?”

  “One thing we’re best at,” Oskelev said, with a fierce grin. “Fleeing and eluding the enemy. We’ve done it before, following you. No one will catch you, I swear by my belly fur.”

  “Safe you,” Redius promised. “Directions to avoid TU, dictate, Anstruther.”

  Anstruther’s voice chimed in. “I will, sir. Get going. Four more cars are on the main boulevard. Their flitters are within fifteen seconds of target area.”

  I crouched on the edge of the seat. When Redius swerved hard to the right, I jumped. I hit the pavement and rolled until I was in the entryway of a wine shop. Our car accelerated away. In seconds, the Trade Union vehicles followed, driving on the curb. They narrowly missed crushing me. The flitters zipped by overhead. As soon as I was sure they were gone, I picked myself up and brushed myself off. My shirt and trousers had picked up smudges from the pavement. One elbow was torn. I sustained only a few bruises and a scrape, but my right sleeve stank. I wrinkled my nose. I had landed in a pool of animal urine. A woman peered at me curiously from the other side of the street. In spite of my discomfiture, I bowed. She smiled shyly.

  “Anstruther, what’s the best way back?”

  “On foot, sir?”

  “I must, Ensign,” I said. “I can’t risk public transportation, or getting into a private car with one of Sgarthad’s fans who will return me straight to him.”

  “I will meet you with another vehicle, sir,” Parsons interjected. “I am departing from my current location. If we follow a common route, I will intercept you. Do you understand, Ensign?”