by Ben Bova
Another quick cut, this one to what was unmistakably an evac-pod hatch. The status lights above the hatch blinked red: empty. There were four bodies here, all of them Imperial soldiers. From the position of the bodies, it looked like a full-scale firefight had taken place here.
The image cut again, this time to a tight shot of Jephthah. His face was pained, saddened, and in this close-up view it looked as though he hadn’t slept in quite some time.
“I apologize if what I’ve just presented has repulsed you. Seeing it again, now, I am just as sickened as the first time I saw it. I am truly sorry.
“But, after thinking long and hard, I decided that it was necessary to present it as I did, for, as I said at the beginning, the Human Worlds have reached a turning point.” He lowered his head dramatically once more, as if to emphasize the crisis.
“Dr. Templeton Rice, a close associate of Dr. Adela de Montgarde, and the Sarpan astrophysicist known as ‘Oidar’ have murdered the entire crew—Academy scientists, Imperial soldiers, even the civilian support personnel—of the sunstation at Chao Meng-fu in order to make their getaway. The events leading up to their escape were documented by the Imperial forces stationed there, and will be accessible on the public nets in short order, if they are not already, to those with access clearance. Before he himself was brutally killed attempting to prevent the liftoff of the evacuation pod, Lieutenant Jerzy Koll, the officer in command of the Imperial forces at the sunstation, thoroughly documented Dr. Rice’s actions preceding his illegal takeover of portions of the station, as well as the murder of the two Academy scientists who trusted him.”
Jephthah lowered his head again, not looking at the camera as he concluded, “This entire treasonous misadventure—the reanimation of the sleeping alien, the certain theft of centuries of hard-gained research, the murder of several innocent people and, ultimately, an escape to parts unknown—was clearly planned, to an exacting degree, by Dr. Templeton Rice, who thought nothing of casually slaughtering his own friends, researchers who wanted only to achieve success in their worthy goal of saving the homeworld of all humanity.”
There was a long pause then as Jephthah stared out from the recording once more. So long, in fact, that Adela and Billy almost thought that it had concluded. Suddenly, Jephthah’s face turned to a visage of rage as he addressed the camera, his voice rising as she had never heard it before.
“Isn’t it time we had some answers!” he bellowed, pounding his fist forcefully, loudly, somewhere outside the video pickup. “Why haven’t we heard from our Emperor? It should be painfully evident, even to the most skeptical, that the Sarpan present a threat of unimaginable magnitude. They fear us! They envy us! They covet our knowledge, and they covet our accomplishments! How is it possible that a trusted colleague of the Emperor’s own mother, Dr. Adela de Montgarde, can plot something of this nature for years without his knowledge?”
He lowered his voice, his eyes narrowing, his features taking on a curious mien. “And just where is the honorable Dr. Montgarde?” He snorted contemptuously, a suspicion-filled smile appearing on his lips. “I, for one, thought she was to be instrumental in bringing the project to save Earth’s Sun to fruition. Instead, she is nowhere to be seen. Is it possible that she has more to do with what happened on Mercury than we know?
“Speak to us, Emperor of the Human Worlds! You have led us well for so many years. Do not forsake us now in our time of great need.”
The recording ended abruptly, fading instantly from the holoframe upon completion. The screen remained dark; Eric didn’t bother to replace the mural. Adela’s hands were shaking as she set her cup down, the fine china chattering against the saucer, her coffee now cold.
“How much of what we just saw was true?” she asked softly, emotionlessly. “And how much was lies?”
“For the record,” Eric began. “All personnel at Chao Meng-fu were killed except for Rice. I personally reviewed the report from the sunstation only five hours ago, and can tell you that although Rice certainly is responsible for some of what we just saw, any deaths he caused were in self-defense. Despite the weapons they had with them, the pair of them could not have done all of this. Contrary to what he said, there were other surveillance cameras at the station that should have recorded some of what occurred, but those that showed anything other than Rice and Oidar moving through corridors were either conveniently destroyed by gunfire, or were, for some reason, off-line.”
Billy cleared his throat and leaned back heavily in his chair. “I’ve been in a firefight before, in close quarters like those we saw,” he said, his voice deadly serious. “There’s no way trained military personnel, outnumberin’ Rice the way they did, could’ve been so completely overwhelmed. I just won’t believe it.”
“I won’t either,” Adela added. “I know Rice, and it’s hard enough to accept that he could do it even in self-defense, much less as an aggressor.”
Eric paused, then said, “And Oidar?”
“You can’t be serious, Eric. Did you see him?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t care what this lunatic claims, or what he shows in his damned recording, either; it was all Oidar could do to even keep himself erect.”
The Emperor nodded thoughtfully. “The gun we saw Rice give Oidar was found just outside the cryosleep chamber, unfired. This recording was carefully presented to give a specific idea that they shot their way out of the facility, murdering everyone who might have been able to stop them or contact the Imperial Court.”
Eric poured himself coffee, then took the cup with him as he rose and crossed to the far side of the room to stand in front of the holoframe. “I’m sure you both realize why I couldn’t discuss any of this with you over the handlink. We suspected it for a long time, but it’s certain now that Jephthah has people within official Imperial circles. He also has access to Imperial communications. He could not have obtained any of what you just saw without both.” He paused, holding the steaming cup with both hands, sipping gingerly at it. The hush in the room was palpable.
“We know that Koll was one of his people; the faked records could only have been done by a commanding Imperial officer. What isn’t apparent in the recording is what the investigating team found: Koll was killed, executed, after the pod left. Medically speaking, the time frame is clear, which means that Koll was sacrificed by whatever operative Jephthah had there to accomplish this. Frankly, even though it’s been made to look like they used the evac pod to rendezvous with another ship sympathetic to the Sarpan, I believe that Rice and Oidar are being held by Jephthah. Why, I don’t know.”
Eric said nothing more, and seemed to concentrate on the cup cradled in his hands, deep in thought. Adela thought perhaps he was using his integrator to receive additional information and was connected even now to the Imperial computer net, although he gave no sign that such was the case.
“Eric …” Billy said, breaking the silence. “We’ve been mates a long time now. What is it you’re not tellin’ us?”
Adela had been thinking along the same lines, and nodded in agreement. “All that you’ve said, everything we’ve seen so far, as terrible as it is, has just been a prelude, hasn’t it?”
“You’re right.” Eric approached the table and half sat, half leaned on the edge. He set the cup down, and looked at each of them in turn.
“There was another broadcast, following this one by only a few hours. He even did something he’s never done before: He used the same transmission source.” Eric snorted contemptuously. “He must have really been in a hurry. Or thought he was so far ahead of us that we couldn’t trace him as quickly as we did. In any event, we intercepted and blocked it.” He sighed heavily. “I suppose he’ll find out soon enough that no one outside the highest circles of the Imperial Court heard him, and he’ll rebroadcast the address from another source—not much I can do about that.” Eric pulled out one of the chairs on the side of the table opposite the two of them and sat wearily, regarding them each with a weak smile.
&n
bsp; “The contents of the second transmission prove beyond doubt that he has somehow breached the Imperial net, as every bit of information in it came from a single communication, coded for my consumption only. No other Imperial communication could possibly contain the information since that time, since I personally had not yet released any of the contents to even my closest advisors between the time I received it and the moment he made his second transmission. However, as the contents of his broadcast contain more of his histrionics than usual, I won’t bother playing it for you.” He breathed out heavily, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to say.
“I don’t need to tell you the kind of hysteria Jephthah has managed to cultivate over the years. Distrust of the Sarpan was always there, going back to some of the regrettably deadly encounters we had with them during first contact. Even an attempt to kill Father and me years ago, when I was barely a teenager, was made to look, at the time, like the aliens’ work. This latest business at the sunstation tells me he’s ready to advance to the next level of his campaign of hatred. Unfortunately …” Eric breathed out suddenly in frustration, his cheeks puffing. She noticed for the first time just how exhausted he was. “Unfortunately, the timing of what he’s orchestrated on Mercury couldn’t possibly be worse.
“Mother, Billy … the stakes in whatever game he’s playing have just jumped a thousandfold. A survey vessel, the Paloma Blanca, commanded by Gareth Anmoore, has filed a report stating that they have just discovered a third intelligent race on an Earthlike world orbiting Tsing 479. That was the subject of Jephthah’s second broadcast.”
The news out, Eric relaxed visibly in his chair. Adela watched her son, studied his face, and in his eyes saw the struggle of emotions within him. She got the feeling that the two of them were the first people he had personally told, although other members of the Imperial Court and Academy of Sciences must certainly know by now because of Jephthah’s intercepted broadcast. And as the thought struck her, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit closer to this son she had never really known. For him to have thought so highly of her, his mother, and of Billy, his best friend, to tell them first confirmed the initial impression she had had of him upon awakening: This leader was one who put people foremost in his thoughts, not Empire.
“That’s incredible,” she breathed, unable to think of anything else to say. Billy said nothing, but Adela could tell that he was contemplating the significance and potential repercussions such an announcement would have on the Hundred Worlds following the years of xenophobic propaganda Jephthah had spread. She watched as Billy glanced at Eric and their eyes met. Something was being exchanged there, she knew, a wordless understanding shared only by those who had led others. “Incredible,” she repeated.
“Nah,” Billy said, facing her. “It was bound to happen.”
Eric nodded agreement. “He’s right. We’ve already met our first intelligent race, the Sarpan, centuries ago. Since then we’ve found life of some kind almost everywhere the Empire has grown. Considering the rate of expansion we’re seeing as a result of the wormholes, the only truly incredible thing is that we’ve not found other intelligent life before this.”
Eric paused, rubbing his eyes. He concentrated for a moment, then regarded them once more. “I have instituted new restrictions on communications involving all activities at Tsing 479. A partial ‘blackout,’ if you will—no descriptions or accounts of the survey work being done there will be sent outside of that system; even at that, I’ve restricted all intership transmissions in-system to contain only the most basic of information. But please,” he said, holding both hands up before him, “don’t think that I want to stifle the news of this discovery. It’s too late for that, even if I thought there would be any useful reason to. It’s just that I want nothing more about it in Jephthah’s hands for him to distort and use for his own goals.”
Eric stood, a silent integrator command returning the lights in the room to normal, as he looked down into their faces.
“There are very few people whose trust I can absolutely count on in this, so I intend to rely on family more than anything. Imperial protocol be damned. I’ve already contacted Lewis aboard his flagship and Brendan at the Academy; Cathay is out-of-system, but I hope to hear from her shortly. They will be my eyes and ears at Tsing. In the meantime, I’ve assigned a working suite to each of you here on the shuttle, and have routed Captain Anmoore’s complete report to the system under your personal IDs.” He hesitated, licking lips that had gone dry. “Mother, Billy—I need your help: There are no two people I trust more than the two of you, and I want you there to make some decisions for me. Work closely with the others, review everything without putting it through the comm net, then give me your recommendations. I’ll back up any conclusions you make.”
“You’ve got it,” Adela said instantly. “Jephthah is using my name and my friends to further his propaganda. He’s corrupted everything I stand for. Of course I’ll do anything I can to help you in this.”
Eric smiled. “Thank you, Mother.” He turned to his friend, who fidgeted uneasily in his chair. “Billy, you once served my father as Imperial legal liaison. Working closely with my mother, your contributions to the Empire were indispensable; the mission to bring Pallatin back into the Hundred Worlds would not, could not, have succeeded without you. I need for the two of you to go to Tsing as soon as—”
“No! I … I can’t bloody go right now!” Billy was on his feet, his chair nearly tipping over backward as he rose. He paced desperately, literally wringing his hands, his face a frantic mixture of indecision and anguish as he swung himself around to face the Emperor. “Eric, please; don’t ask me to leave now!”
Eric said nothing at first, then nodded thoughtfully. “All right,” he said simply. There was no anger in his voice, but it was impossible to hide his disappointment. Behind the words, however, Adela knew that he truly understood. “I know you’re in the middle of something very important to you, and I respect that.”
He crossed to the desk and pulled a data stick from among several in a cuplike container, then inserted it into a slot in the desktop terminal. He hesitated as he gave a silent integrator command, then withdrew the data stick. He retook his seat and handed the stick to his friend, saying, “This is Captain Anmoore’s report; take it with you. I’d like you to be as fully informed as to what’s happened there up to now as possible, and would appreciate any ideas you can contribute on the situation.” He paused, a thought occurring to him.
“In fact—since Brendan and Lewis will probably be on their way to Tsing before Cathay’s back in-system, maybe I could send her down here. As a legitimate Imperial authority and my personal representative, she could assist in any official capacity you need to deal with local government. Could you use some help?”
“Well … I’m gonna have a lot of work ahead of me here,” he answered, thinking over the offer. “Yeah, I could use the help.”
“Then consider it done.” The Emperor of the Hundred Worlds rose. “Listen, Billy: What is about to begin at Tsing 479 will last some time, I’m afraid. Please don’t think that I’m trying to pressure you when I say this, but whenever you finish your work here, we can use you any time you can get there.” He smiled warmly, and held out his hand. “Good luck, mate.”
Billy accepted his friend’s hand, and Adela saw the beginnings of the broad grin she knew so well.
“Thanks, mate.”
13
CAPTIVES AND CAPTORS
Rice’s head throbbed as he struggled to sit up. He lay there, frowning sourly at the cottony taste in his mouth as drops of nausea-induced sweat trickled down his scalp. He blinked rapidly, resting the back of his left wrist on his forehead, and felt a sharp, unexpected scraping. He blinked at his arm and saw that he was wearing a stiff, plastic medimonitor bracelet. He stared dumbly at it, trying to decipher the readings, but his churning stomach forced his eyes closed again.
The first attempt to sit resulted in little more than his b
ending his head and upper body forward before falling dizzily back against the cushioning softness. The room was spinning even before his head hit the pillow, and he closed his eyes tightly, willing the nausea to go away. His insides finally stopped twisting long enough for him to slowly open his eyes and examine the objects nearest him. On each side of the bed was a guardrail with a keypad membrane running the length of the smooth surface. The keypad on the left matched the one his right hand still gripped tightly following his ill-timed attempt to pull himself to a sitting position. He squinted at it, trying to force his eyes to give him a nonblurred image, then thumbed one of the keys. There was a slight hum at the skin of his back and the top portion of the bed rose slowly, smoothly until he was almost sitting upright.
He managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed and looked around, still fighting off the light-headedness he felt, longing for the comfort of lying horizontally again. In a minute, he promised himself, trying to shake the cobwebs from his brain. As soon as I figure out where the hell I am, I’m going to lie down and sleep for a month. The lights in the room were at a low level, and Rice—eyelids still fluttering involuntarily—did his best to make out the surroundings in the dimness.
Obviously, he was in a hospital room or, at least, a room whose sole purpose was the medical attention of its occupant. Three of the walls were featureless, although there was a door in the wall directly opposite the foot of the bed; the fourth, to his immediate right, was nearly all glass extending from floor to ceiling. Or maybe not glass. It could have been a nonpermeable shield that divided one long room into as many separate smaller ones as were needed. From the edge of the bed—and he was not yet confident enough to attempt standing nearer the clear wall for a closer look—he couldn’t see much in the adjoining room, which was completely dark. However, he could make out a light-colored shape that might be another bed. Above it blinked readouts similar to those on the tall headboard above his own.
