Bold

by Mike Shepherd

  “It was put deep into the stone wall where it had crumbled with age,” Jack explained. “It was made of plastic, plastered over into the wall, and apparently its electronics were silent until it was time-activated. There was no way our sweeps could have caught it.”

  “Had it been there for a long time?”

  “No way to tell, Your Majesty,” Jack said.

  “So there could be another bomb behind her or even one behind me,” he snapped.

  “During the break, my Marines and your Imperial Guard went over the walls of the Great Hall with nails and hammers. We found nothing. We think the stones are stones.”

  The Emperor rubbed his ear. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.”

  “Your daughter, the Grand Duchess, says that there have been quite a few attempts on her life,” Kris mentioned.

  “So some have told me. Others say it’s her own fault for associating with lawless thugs.”

  “You’ve seen the people who are following her, Your Imperial Majesty,” Kris said.

  “Yeah. Now I’ve seen them.” The Emperor rubbed his chin and eyed the Grand Duchess’s followers filling up their chairs, if looking a bit askance at the painted stones behind them, now showing a lot of chipping from where they had been hammered. Several of those seated against the wall made their own inspection.

  “Interesting. Very interesting,” the Emperor said, and turned to his seat. A dozen courtiers followed closely behind him.

  The Grand Duke of Greenfeld had come in and taken his place on the Emperor’s right hand. An empty chair waited for the Empress.

  Kris banged her gavel, and those who hadn’t found their seats rushed to them. When she felt the last few deserved what they would no doubt get from those whose toes they stepped on, Kris said, “Your Grace. You have the floor for the next hour and a half.”

  “Thank you. Your Imperial Majesty,” Vicky said with a nod to her father, followed by one to Kris, “Your Highness. I cede my time to Steve Rojek,” and she turned and sat down.

  A young man in conservative business dress came not to the podium but to a table that had been placed beside it during the break. A young man and woman, again in professional dress, came forward, their arms full of readers. They took the seats beside him and spread their electronic gear out in front of them. Steve, however, had only one tablet in front of him.

  Again, he started with bows. “Your Imperial Majesty, Your Grace, Your Highness, other noble ladies and sirs, ladies and gentlemen. For the last several years, our beloved Greenfeld has been through some very troubling times. Earlier this afternoon, we heard one version of those troubles. At least those of us who managed to stay awake,” he said with a near-comical shrug of his shoulders.

  That brought loud guffaws and soft chuckles; several of those who had slept through the prime minister’s boring and rambling statement got elbowed in the ribs.

  “Now, I would like to offer a different perspective of how all this came to pass.” So saying, the young man began to lay careful groundwork for where the Empire had been and how it managed to sink from there to its present low.

  His words were soft, but firm. His facts were, wherever possible, backed up with citations. Where they were not, he allowed for differences of opinion, or offered to bring forth witnesses to give sworn testimony. Between his soft words and simple-to-follow rhetoric, he had most of the room intently listening to him.

  There were the occasional outbursts, inevitably from the Empress’s faction. They grew fewer as those on the Imperial side of the room took in their Emperor’s demeanor. He was leaning forward in his chair, eyes intent on Mr. Rojek. His right elbow rested on the arm of his chair, and his chin rested on the knuckles of that hand.

  He did not nod along with Steve. However, though he showed no agreement, neither did he object to his words. As the time wore on, the Emperor never took his eyes off Steve. Vicky’s spokesman, rather than wilting under that pressure, faced his Emperor and spoke his words calmly and gently, right to his face.

  Kris watched the two men and felt like she was watching a conversation like two gentlemen might have seated next to each other in their club.

  Has Vicky finally found a way to get inside the Emperor’s bubble? The Empress is not playing her cards right. If she doesn’t want her man to get his eyes opened for himself, she needs to be down here, rubbing those oversize mammary glands of hers in his face.

  But the Empress stayed gone, and the Emperor stayed intent on Vicky’s spokesman.

  With twenty minutes left to go in his time, Kris began to worry she’d have to gavel him to silence in midsentence. She’d done that to the Empress; she would do that to him but hated to treat his logical presentation like she’d treated the Empress’s tirade.

  With exactly five minutes left to go, Steve brought his presentation to a perfect conclusion. He rose, and said, “I yield the remainder of my time back to Her Grace.”

  Vicky stood, but for a long moment, she said nothing. Then, someone among her people blew a clear perfect note on a pitch pipe, and Vicky began to sing.

  NELLY, WHAT’S THAT SONG MEAN?

  THAT, KRIS, IS THE IMPERIAL ANTHEM.

  Vicky only had to sing the first line solo. Quickly, people around her rose to their feet and joined in the song. On the Imperial side, confusion reigned. Should they stand? It was the Emperor’s anthem. But rebels were singing it.

  Some stood, not looking around for instructions. It was their anthem. Some even began to sing along, though softly at first.

  The Grand Duke, father to the Empress, stolidly sat in his chair, mouth firmly shut.

  Then the Emperor turned to him. It was just a look, but it was that look.

  Shamefaced, the Grand Duke stood and began to mouth the words. That was all it took. Soon everyone in the hall except the Emperor, or the citizens of Cuzco or Royal US citizens, was standing and singing. Kris had to remember not to join in on the refrain, especially the catchy one, “Greenfeld, ever verdant, ever ours.”

  When the song came to an end, there was silence for a long moment. Kris hated to break it, but it was her job. She tapped the plaque of wood on the arm of her chair with the handle of her gavel to get a softer sound.

  “I close this session now. We will meet again tomorrow morning at nine o’clock in the Hall of Mirrors.”

  “About that,” the Emperor said, coming up to Kris’s chair. She stood to meet him. “I don’t know about your ass, young woman, but mine is damn near numb from sitting in that chair.”

  “I was told that these were the best chairs in the resort.”

  “No doubt they are. Leastwise the best chair in my suite isn’t any better. Oh, and about that bomb. Do you think anyone could put a bomb in your Smart Metal walls?”

  Kris shook her head. “We’ve had those walls under continuous observation since they were constructed, Your Majesty. There is no way anyone could make a hole in those walls and secrete a bomb inside them without our knowing.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Between your comfortable chairs and tighter security, I think we should continue to meet in the Hall of Mirrors.”

  “Your Majesty,” said the Grand Duke of Greenfeld, coming up on the Emperor’s other side, “it is a matter of equity. They host some meetings. We host some. A balance must be struck.”

  “Equity, hell. We had a bombing here, and my ass is asleep from that damn chair. Here’s the equity I’ll give you. If anyone gets bombed in their hall, or my ass gets tired, then we come back here. That okay with you, kid?”

  Kris nodded. “Is that acceptable to Your Grace?” she called, as Vicky’s immediate team walked by on their way out the door.

  “Of course, Your Highness, Your Imperial Majesty,” was accompanied by the appropriate bows.

  “Good. That’s settled. Vicky, I’ll see you tomorrow. Your guy had a lot of t
hings to say. I can’t say I agree with all of it, but it wasn’t some of the bullshit I hear too often in the Palace.”

  “Thank you, Father,” Vicky said, but added no more, not even a smile that might be mistaken for gloating.

  61

  The morning schedule that Kris had sent around to the delegates, and not followed all that much, did include an invitation to another banquet at nine o’clock that evening. She’d asked for RSVPs so they might know how many they would be feeding.

  Vicky’s side were definitely available for free food. All of them had responded before the first session started that morning. Only after the Emperor returned to his room following the last session did he reply in the positive. Within half an hour, Mary Fintch had heard from every Imperial.

  “Thanks for promising to pay for a meal for everyone the first three days,” Mary said in a quick note to tell Kris the Banquet Hall would be full. “Otherwise, I never would have ordered enough food for this many.”

  Kris just smiled. Maybe I am getting the hang of this diplomatic thing.

  She quickly pumped milk for Ruth while watching her on-screen as she played with her nannies. They tried to get the infant to look at Kris, but though they said she was smiling at her mommy, her mommy wasn’t feeling the love.

  I have got to make a trip up the beanstalk to visit Ruth, she swore.

  Dinner went much better that evening, partially because Mary was late serving it. Kris arranged for an open bar in the vaulted entrance, and people circulated a bit more than they had the night before. The Empress had a headache and didn’t attend. Her older brother hadn’t been seen all day, apparently unable to leave the bed of his paramour, but most of the Imperials were there with the Emperor.

  That included several young women with heaving, minimally covered bosoms, who orbited around the Emperor until they caught his eye, then, smiling coyly, closed in for his closer attention.

  “Someone is definitely not playing her cards right,” Jack muttered. Kris could only nod in agreement.

  The Grand Duke was there at the Emperor’s side, scowling at those bearers of such visible pulchritude, but they ignored him and continued basking in the Emperor’s attention.

  Emperor Harry was only too happy to encourage their basking.

  Not all of the femininity around the Emperor was in Imperial bare. Several of the young women were locals, and not a few were from Vicky’s faction. Vicky didn’t seem to notice their waywardness, or if she did, she shrugged off her father’s wandering eye with easy aplomb.

  “What must it have been like for Vicky, growing up in that Palace, even if it wasn’t officially a Palace yet?” Jack asked softly.

  “I thought she was bad when I first met her,” Kris said, “but after looking at this, I wonder how she managed to survive to be the person she is now.”

  “She put on quite a show, first answering her stepmother’s tirade with gentle words, then handing the lead over to that Steve fellow. What he did . . .” Jack just shook his head.

  “I suspect he was operating from a lot of notes given by Vicky and her Mannie.”

  “You’re proud of her. Busting-buttons proud.”

  Kris swirled her tonic water and lime twist. “I’d like to think I had something to do with who she’s become.”

  Soft chimes announced dinner. It went well and progressed smoothly into after-dinner drinks in the ballroom. The conversation showed the sides mixing a bit here, a bit there. Some of the locals managed to bring people from both sides together. Kris’s brain trust had noted which Imperials listened more intently to Steve. They worked hard to get those people talking with locals. Then they would smoothly add one or two from Vicky’s faction.

  Kris allowed herself to traipse up the stairs to bed early, hoping the next day might show more progress.

  Next morning, the Emperor arrived five minutes early and stood at Kris’s side, facing Vicky, as Kris flipped the coin. Vicky allowed her father to call the toss. He lost, but she invited him to go first.

  Kris soon wished Vicky hadn’t.

  The Grand Duke of Greenfeld quickly took the podium and began to defend his daughter and family’s necessary actions to bring law and order back to the planets being stalked by rebellion and sedition. “Factions seated across from us. Factions making groundless accusations against our moderate efforts to keep the peace and see that Greenfeld’s business was business,” he said, turning to the Emperor.

  Emperor Henry nodded as his own words were fed back to him.

  The Grand Duke’s rebuttal was loud and proud. He mentioned a lot of planets, but usually in the context of rooting out the State Security traitors. That always got the Emperor’s nod. But when he addressed other planets and other outbreaks of lawlessness, he got vague. And the actions of the Security Consultants were always appropriate and no more than were essential to restore peace and the rule of law.

  The Emperor nodded along every time the Grand Duke said, “Restore peace and the rule of law.”

  The Grand Duchess’s factions sat stony-faced but silent through it all. About half of the Imperials, the faction Kris was coming to recognize as the Empress’s lackeys, cheered and whistled whenever the Emperor appeared to approve of what he was hearing.

  There was another faction, though. Dressed in the colorful fashions of the Imperial court, they nevertheless did not react when the Empress’s faction did. Slowly, it became clear to everyone in the hall that there were a lot of people on the Imperial side sitting just as silent and stony-faced as those on the Grand Duchess’s side.

  It started as a few gentle digs in ribs as the Empress’s faction tried to get a rise out of the silent ones in their midst. Then it escalated to serious jostling. When someone called out “Stop that,” Kris brought the gavel down and two shamefaced men traded seats with the men next to them.

  The last forty minutes of the Grand Duke’s speech was interrupted by more and more of Kris hammering her gavel. She finally resorted to an appeal to the Emperor.

  “Your Imperial Majesty, please restore order among your delegation.”

  “Cut the crap, or I’ll have the Imperial Guard escort you out of here.”

  “And you’ll go to bed without any of that whore’s nice supper,” someone added.

  Kris locked eyes with the Emperor. He owed her an apology. He owed her one, but would he give it to her? He broke eye contact first.

  “Bruno, I think you’ve made your point,” the Emperor said. “Your Highness, I yield back the remainder of my time to you so we can have a nice, long break to let things calm down.”

  “I think that would be a very good use of that time, Your Imperial Majesty. I propose we meet back here in forty minutes.” That was a bit longer than the remaining time and the break time added up to, but Kris needed some time to calm herself down from that last anonymous remark.

  “Your Majesty, we have refreshments for your delegates in the ballroom. Nelly, would you open a passageway there?” Kris didn’t want anyone sniping or tossing real grenades at her guests.

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Your Grace, there will be refreshment in the Banquet Hall for you and your associates. Nelly, open another passageway.”

  “Done,” said Nelly

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” said the Grand Duchess with a gentle bow.

  “What about us?” Jack asked.

  “I guess we use the Marine mess. Nelly, see that there is an open bar in the ballroom.”

  “Not in the Banquet Hall?”

  “Nope. Unless Vicky asks for it, don’t offer it.”

  “You trying to get the Imperials soused?” Jack asked.

  “Jack, do you doubt the Imperials will want something stronger than tea, and yes, if they want it, I’ll let them get as drunk as they want.”

  While Kris and her immediate team headed up the elevat
or that had suddenly appeared, most of her brain trust followed the other two factions. The data miners and technical staff went with Kris, but Al, Bill, and Diana, along with their staffs, looked more interested in doing additional work rather than taking a break.

  Kris took part of the break to off-load some milk and watch Ruth play up on the Princess Royal. That took some of the pain out of her breasts, but none of the pain out of her heart.

  After the break, an Imperial Navy officer took the podium. “I am Admiral Bolesław, and I had the honor of being captain of several ships that carried the Grand Duchess. I was at the conn when my heavy cruiser went through a jump to find a schooner with 18-inch pulse lasers waiting for us. We blasted it out of space, but it damn near blew us to kingdom come.”

  “What does this pirate ship have to do with anything?” the Grand Duke shouted out.

  The admiral was unfazed. “We wish to make the point, Your Imperial Majesty, that those who have contributed to the breakdown in law and order in the Empire have also stalked your daughter, Grand Duchess Victoria.”

  The Emperor cocked his head to one side and seemed thoughtful though he said nothing.

  Kris rapped the handle of her gavel. “I find this attack interesting, Your Imperial Majesty. On our voyage to Greenfeld, my squadron also was ambushed. The ships involved were old Greenfeld battleships, left over from the Iteeche War, but they still packed a punch though not very accurately,” Kris said, wanting to avoid just how she’d managed to handle them. “We captured quite a few of the crew, including one officer. I think those assembled here might well benefit from his testimony. If it pleases Your Imperial Majesty, Your Grace, I would present that witness tomorrow.”

  Vicky nodded agreement. The Grand Duke was busy bending the Emperor’s ear. Said Emperor began slowly shaking his head, but the Grand Duke didn’t give up. The head shaking got more and more vigorous until, finally, the Emperor scowled and shoved the father of his Empress away.

  “Did you identify these rogue battleships, Your Highness?” Emperor Harry asked.

  “Yes, we did. They were the Hephaestus and Poseidon of the Mars class, Your Imperial Majesty.”