The View from the Imperium

by Jody Lynn Nye

  The bright blue eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t call it a contest of any kind, my lord. I’ve got half of your people. The others are shut up in your ship. You have no escape. You can’t stay out of my way forever.”

  “I don’t mean to,” I said, with an insouciant lift of my left brow. “When a Kinago receives a glove to the face, he rises to the occasion. I accept your challenge.”

  “What?” Both of Sgarthad’s brows rose.

  “Yes,” I said. “I accept. As the injured party, the choice of location and weapons are mine. I assure you, I fight to win.”

  The incredulous expression widened his eyes. “You are going to fight me?”

  “Naturally. Unless you are afraid.”

  “Ridiculous! What can you do to me?”

  “Undo you.” I tipped my glass in his direction. “My conditions are these: I challenge you to an open debate on the subject of the Imperium’s authority versus the Trade Union’s proposal of unity tomorrow morning at Performance Central. Councillor DeKarn will also be on the podium with us. The council insisted on having their own representative there to argue for Cluster independence. I didn’t see any harm in it. The main encounter will be between you and me.”

  The handsome face was suffused with beet-red. “You are mad! Why would I bother? I am in an unassailable position here on Boske!”

  I let out one of my patent laughs. It had been a long time since I had occasion to use it, and I rather enjoyed the sound of it. It ended with a bray that made him cringe. “Because you have no choice. Check the Grid. They have already received notice of the debate.” His eyes went down, seeking a second screen to peruse. I smiled. Sgarthad’s eyebrows flew up. My article must be on every opinion show across Boske. That effort was courtesy of some of Emby’s friends in the news industry. Sgarthad’s eyes came up, blazing like jewels. I battened onto them with my firmest stare. “If you do not appear, it will be observed. Then, I will publicize to every point in this star cluster a proclamation saying that you are too cowardly to face a representative of the genuine government!”

  His face grew redder than I thought possible without bleeding from the eye sockets. He sputtered out various imprecations in his language and Imperium standard, but they were the pronouncements of a trapped being.

  Smugly, I broke the connection. Parsons, who had been on a circuit to overhear, reappeared on my screen.

  “He will make every attempt to stop you appearing, sir,” Parsons said.

  “We shall have to create a diversion,” I agreed, “but once I am on that stage, he cannot stop me bringing his would-be empire down. I am prepared to stand against him.”

  “He has most of the population of this sector behind him,” Parsons reminded me. “He will use pyrotechnics and technical tricks to derail your efforts. You saw how easily he robbed you of the images of the emperor.”

  “Ah, but I have tricks of my own,” I said. “And I still have . . . me.”

  * * *

  I slept the sleep of the just that night, tucked into a corner of the blue-painted nursery under a pile of pastel, juvenile-patterned quilts not far from the antique wooden crib where Cadwallader, a fine boy of fifteen months with a blue stripe across his nose, reposed. Emby woke me with a cup of excellent coffee and some news.

  “All is prepared,” he said. “Word of your intended conference has gone to every news outlet on the planet and relayed via friends of mine in satellite stations to every world and ship in the Cluster. I have received messages between Sgarthad and planetary government demanding to take down word of your challenge. They tried to delete it from the databases, but we will not let them. The Cluster must make its own decisions.”

  I propped myself up on an elbow and sipped the fragrant liquid. “Emby, would you care if the Trade Union did indeed come to govern here?”

  “We see no special benefit to us in changing the status quo,” the nanibot said. “Or to our employers whom, and we do not understand it, are unwilling to defend themselves against a single human visitor. Why does Sgarthad hold so much power?”

  “It’s hard to explain,” I said uneasily, since I could not risk having the information in my head make it onto any database, “but I hope to help bring things back to normal.”

  “That would be worthwhile,” Emby said. “I wish to be involved in stopping him because you are my friend of long-standing, and this will be an interesting story to tell later on.”

  “I sincerely hope so,” I said, swinging my legs out of the low bed to prepare for the day.

  No doubt Sgarthad was certain he could stop me from talking, but I relied upon my electronic pen pal and his many acquaintances. If I liked, I could shut down the city and every life support system in it. Back up the plumbing! I admit I was tempted to pull an enormous prank. Think of the bragging rights among my cousins! But I must not waste my time. I figuratively hoisted myself by my bootstraps, and prepared to wade into the fray. Our debate would be won or lost on image. A famous debate had happened just before the dawn of space age history on Earth, a virtual tie won by looks alone. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and gave myself a nod of confidence. Today, I would force such a conclusion myself.

  Chapter 34

  “There are over six hundred Trade Union personnel around this hall,” Parsons intoned into my ear. “Half them are on patrol outside, and half inside. What is your position?”

  “Almost there,” I said, tucked into my blue fabric bed like a well-protected nestling. “I shall meet you on stage in approximately one minute. Stand by.”

  Nanibots are like very small tanks. Shielded and heavily armed, and now with a fixed front glide, Emby was unstoppable. He swerved around a guard post at the assisted access entrance to the Performance Central hall. The guards there, I observed on the screen on the padded interior, ran after him, shouting, into the red auditorium but they did not unlimber their weapons. They dared not fire upon a nanibot in public. The outcry against interlopers who would endanger a child would ruin the Trade Union’s chances of keeping their influence, no matter how charming or handsome their leader appeared to be, and no matter how well ensconced they seemed. Unity was not a done deal yet.

  A capacity audience filled the seats and crowded the aisles in spite of the guards’ attempts to keep order. Around the room and across the base of the stage, enormous vertical rectangular screens showed what was going on on stage. Sgarthad, in his purple uniform, had already taken his position at the lectern in the center. At his right, looking diminished and frightened but straight-backed, was Councillor DeKarn. I spotted a coverall-clad figure in the wings that resembled Parsons.

  “Is that you with the red tattoos?” I inquired.

  “It is, sir.”

  “Ah. Red becomes you.”

  “Thank you, sir. Where are you now?”

  “Emerging,” I said. Emby bumped up the ramp and onto the well-lit dais. The hatch flew open into the midst of the people milling around on stage. My cameras flying at my shoulders like guardian spirits, I popped out. “Good morning, all! Shall we begin?”

  Huzzahs erupted from the audience. In spite of all the news reports from the night before, I still had fans among the population of Boske. The Trade Union uniforms rushing toward me were arrested in place. They looked to Sgarthad for guidance.

  His lips were pressed together as if to prevent any of the words that must have been building up on his tongue from escaping. He gestured curtly at the guards, then to me. The guards withdrew, but kept their hands on the butts of their guns. All of Sgarthad’s movements were tense. He looked up over the heads of the audience toward the rear wall and nodded. I smiled to myself. He had something planned that would take me by surprise. I meant to offer my surprise in return.

  We took our places at the podiums. I rued the loss of my red coat. I would have preferred to appear in more formal dress than shirt and trousers, but nothing my hosts of the previous evening had possessed had the punch of my wardrobe now besieged on the Pthohannix la
nding pad. Sgarthad in his colorful uniform and gold shoulder flashings outshone me and Councillor DeKarn by kilometers.

  The stout governor of Pthohannix city-state marched to the edge of the stage. Yuchiko’s words were picked up by hidden microphones and broadcast at tremendous volume to the edges of the great chamber. Each successive wave of sound seemed to buffet the woman standing at the third podium, causing her to sway and tremble. My heart went out to her. It was brave of her to add her presence to this event, considering what Parsons had told me the previous evening of her recent experiences. I smiled at her. She met my eyes with confidence. I was full of admiration for Councillor DeKarn. She reminded me of my mother.

  “. . . And so, gentlebeings of Pthohannix, greater Boske and the entire sector, I am privileged to announce a debate on the future of the Castaway Cluster! I welcome three well-known and eloquent speakers. At my left, welcome First Councillor Leese DeKarn! In the center, our esteemed friend, Captain Emile Sgarthad! And at my right,” Doctor Yuchiko’s eyebrows went down disapprovingly over his nose, “our recent visitor, who has represented himself as an envoy of His Majesty Shojan XII of the Imperium, Lord Thomas Kinago! You shall all be judges of your future!”

  The entire audience burst into wild cheers and applause. I frowned a little at the faint damns of the governor’s introduction of me, but I wasn’t surprised. He was a fervent follower of my opponent.

  “Lots have been drawn for the order of speeches,” the governor continued. He held up three ivory-colored markers. “Councillor DeKarn will go first.”

  The silver-haired woman looked straight out to the crowd as the Boske flag climbed up the screens behind her to the stirring music of the system anthem. I noticed that in the front two rows, the remaining council members were seated, along with their minders. They looked nervous, resentful and curious. “Gentlebeings, you have paid me the honor of returning me six terms to the council. I would never ask you to vote for a decision that I and my colleagues of the council had not fully discussed as to the merits.” She opened her hand and swept it toward Sgarthad. “Therefore, after long conference in chamber, I must urge you to throw your support to the cause that best serves your interests . . .” Sgarthad turned his head this way and that, offering one flawless profile or the other, preening like a peacock.

  Parsons’s voice broke in my ear. “Sir, I have news. The prisoners have been freed. All our personnel is on its way here from the ship. Will you inform Madam DeKarn that the ambassador and Councillor Zembke are well and safe?”

  “Zembke? Very well.” I raised my hand. “May I make my compliments to the councillor?” Sgarthad turned to glare at me, but I went on as if they had given me permission. “I have news that she would appreciate hearing. Madam Ben and Councillor Zembke want you to know that they are safe.”

  The councillor looked shocked for a fraction of a second, then her long training took force. Her back straightened, and her jaw took on a casing of iron. She was no longer the fearful rag doll that had stood there one moment before. “Thank you, Lord Thomas, although I would have preferred you not interrupt the flow of my narrative.”

  I bowed my apology. The audience chuckled. Sgarthad was livid. He gestured furiously to the guards, who dashed off the stage. I was relieved as well. Parsons was a wonder worker. How had he managed to rescue our colleagues without ever leaving my sight?

  Madam DeKarn addressed her public. “So I will continue. I believe that the interests of the Cluster will be served, as they have been for millennia, by continuing as a part of the Imperium!” Behind her, the image of fireworks erupting surrounded pictures of me in formal attire. It was my turn to preen. “Support Lord Thomas and the emperor! All true Boskians must agree!”

  The other councillors bounded to their feet, shouting. Evidently this was not what they expected of Madam DeKarn.

  Their ire could not compare to Sgarthad’s. He must not appear less than dignified, not with the entire cluster watching, but he gestured angrily at the governor. DeKarn’s microphone cut off, leaving her gesticulating silently. Yuchiko stepped forward. “Um. Thank you, Councillor. And second, er, Lord Thomas Kinago will speak.”

  “Greetings, gentlebeings,” I said, to a polite smattering of applause and several boos. “I am grateful for the councillor’s kind words. It reminds me of a story that I heard from a good friend of mine, concerning a nobleman, a merchant and a politician. It seems that the politician . . .” I launched into a favorite joke, intending to soften them up for my speech as well as waste a little time. The audience looked confused at first, but gradually they relaxed to enjoy it. At the end of the first tale, more than a quarter of the audience laughed. With a smile of acknowledgement, I segued smoothly into one given me by Nesbitt.

  I worried a good deal about him and the others. No matter that Parsons had assured me they were out of trouble, until I could see them, I was not content in their safety. They trusted me. I continued on with my tales and anecdotes, seeing the audience warming to me, their eyes intent, mouths smiling. They leaned forward as I built to the crescendo of my last and favorite. “. . . and the Gecko said, ‘Would you mind passing me the fire extinguisher?’ ” As one, the listeners threw themselves back in their seats, roaring with laughter. I grinned boyishly. I had them in the very palm of my hand. I was ready to begin my speech. Sgarthad also roared, but in fury.

  “Stop fooling around!” he thundered. “You are finished.” He signed to the governor, who moved forward timidly.

  “We will now hear from, er, our friend, Captain Sgarthad!”

  The theater filled with wild demonstrations of joy and devotion. People danced and waved, chanting his name. Sgarthad leaned forward, making certain that all of the cameras and every eye were fixed upon him. I bided my time.

  “Gentlebeings, the time is long past when you should look to a distant and uncaring Imperium for support. This is the first step on your path to the future! Have I not been a good friend to you? The Trade Union will give you more freedom than you have ever had before, greater prosperity, wider scope for your enterprise and creativity. I want that for you! Follow me! I am your guide and guardian.”

  At every full stop, the audience cheered. Sgarthad continued, knowing that his fantastically good looks, charm and will would prevail, keeping the entire population of the Castaway Cluster under his spell.

  No more.

  I sent my cameras flying into the air. Their tiny size barely interrupted any of the spotlight that shone on my rival. The more light the better, I knew. My Optique was set to record every glorious moment that was to come. The Chey Snap . . . well, that was set, too.

  “Is everyone on-line, Emby?” I murmured.

  “Ready and waiting, Lord Thomas.”

  “Now.”

  “The Trade Union has sent me to give you this very good news,” Sgarthad said. “Believe in me.” I slid my hand surreptitiously into the front of my tunic, and touched the viewpad’s control. Suddenly, every feed in the sector was being channeled through my Chey Snap camera. On every screen across Boske, Sgarthad was wearing a pig’s nose. Instead of the loud cheers, a nervous titter ran through the crowd. “Don’t you want a better life? Don’t you want to stop feeling isolated?” His eyes turned into lizard’s eyes and rolled around to face in different directions. Someone in the audience began laughing.

  The rough-looking male officer with short hair gestured furiously at Sgarthad to look at the monitor screentank. The captain gawked, and the scaly mandible that had taken the place of his lower jaw dropped open.

  “Fix it,” he roared. The Trade Union man barked an order into his viewpad. The screens blanked for a moment.

  “They are attempting to override, sir,” Parsons said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him manipulating switches and palm panels. “Emby, retake control.”

  “Of course, Commander.” I trusted Emby and his many connections in the electronic engineering sector. The image came back, clearer than before. I added brilliant colors to the
lizard’s scales. Sgarthad glared at me. “What are you doing to me?”

  “Me?” I asked, innocently. I spread out my hands and appealed to the audience. “I am standing here with you. What could I possibly be doing to you?” The lizard eyes shrank back in Sgarthad’s head and his jaws grew forward into an ape’s muzzle. The audience reacted with laughter and revulsion.

  “You interfering popinjay!” Sgarthad bellowed. “You dilettante! Get out of my sector!”

  “Do I look like a dilettante?” I appealed to the audience. “It’s not his sector, is it?”

  “No!” the crowd bellowed.

  At the same time as I ruined Sgarthad’s good looks, I had made myself handsomer and more perfectly symmetrical. With a tweak of the Chey Snap’s morphing program, I shortened my neck, widened my shoulders, broadened my jaw just a little, squared my forehead, set my eyes a trifle deeper until I was as noble and wise-looking as Shojan. Maybe a little more so. I admired my reflection in the gigantic screens.

  “Do you trust me?” I asked.

  “Yes!”

  It was all too easy. They were behind me like a sheep following the bellwether.

  “Then don’t allow yourself to be fooled by this pirate a moment longer!” I shouted. “Look at him!”

  And the morph rolled his features together until Sgarthad looked as sinister as any villain who ever appeared in a digitavid. The audience reacted with shock. “I like that one, Emby. Send that image through the system. Substitute it for all the other images of Sgarthad.”

  “Will do, Lord Thomas.” Did I hear an electronic chuckle?

  Sgarthad knew his efforts had been ruined. He leaped for me and grabbed me by the throat. I clawed at his hands. His guards raced in to pinion my arms. Sgarthad squeezed my windpipe. I felt the veins at my temples distend. With a desperate twist I managed to free my bruised throat enough to speak.

  “Help me!” I choked out. Thankfully, Emby had restored my audio pickup. My voice boomed overhead like a klaxon. “Citizens of the Cluster, help!”