by Ben Bova
There were three generations represented here, it suddenly occurred to her. At another time, she thought, it would be pleasant for the four of them to be gathered in the same place, to enjoy each other’s company without the overwhelming pressures of the coming difficulties. For now, however, she would have to content herself with this holoconference, and leave thoughts of familial pleasures aside for the moment.
“I first viewed the recording of the airship raid at Captain Anmoore’s planetside facilities, at the dome down at South Camp,” Adela was explaining, “right after returning from seeing Jour Nouveau for the first time. I viewed it again at the planning session with Lewis and Brendan, then again, in private, in my cabin aboard the Kiska. I’ve seen it one other time since … twice, if you include Jephthah’s broadcast of it.”
“I see,” Eric said, turning to Gareth Anmoore. “Captain, are you certain that at no time was it ever transmitted ship-to-ship?”
“Absolutely, Sire.” Anmoore was nervous as he addressed the Emperor. He’d had no way of knowing, before this meeting began, that the Emperor of the Hundred Worlds himself would be taking part until he actually saw Eric sitting across from him in the room. “Not even a scrambled data transfer was attempted. I simply didn’t want to take the risk of it being intercepted by an outside source.”
Eric nodded in understanding. “I appreciate your efforts, Captain. Unfortunately, this man has penetrated much more deeply into Imperial workings than anyone could possibly have anticipated. Understand, however, that I don’t hold you in any way responsible. You exercised all normal care, as well as a number of precautionary measures on your own initiative. I appreciate your diligence.” He allowed a smile, then said, “In fact, based on what Dr. Montgarde has told me, and the official reports from the commander and the Academician, your work there has been exemplary. I have already entered a commendation for you and each member of your crew into the record. Please convey my personal thanks to your people as well. That will be all for now.”
“Thank you, Sire.” As his holographic image began to fade from view, leaving the seat next to her own empty, Adela saw a look of pride radiate from Anmoore’s face.
“I’ve checked the distribution of the recording,” Lewis put in. “Copies now exist in the computer systems of seven ships besides the Scartaris and Kiska, as well as in the main system at South Camp. The distribution was by hand only, on my orders, to those with a legitimate need to have it, and took place over a period of eight days.” Lewis sighed, shaking his head sheepishly. “The recording was ID-coded, of course, to the recipients. But if the coding was broken, as it obviously was by someone, then any one of literally hundreds of people could have accessed it over that time period.”
Eric stroked his chin in thought, and the look on his face told Adela that he was consulting his integrator, undoubtedly computing the possibilities of how the security might have been breached. At this moment he might be reviewing duty rosters, personnel lists, work assignments, ship-to-ship transfers and anything else occurring over the eight-day period in question that might have allowed someone to come into proximity of the recording.
“I think the number is more accurately in the thousands, son.” He pursed his lips in silent thought, his own deep sigh echoing, almost exactly, the mannerism his eldest son had used moments before.
As he contemplated the situation, Eric’s image flickered once, then nearly froze. He had gestured with his hand just before he had spoken, and it now moved in exaggerated, jerky slow motion as his likeness stretched oddly. Another bout of flickering told her that his transmission matrix was being reassigned by the tachyon dish computer to find a more favorable link. Fortunately, the interruption was brief.
“I will not permit him to make another of his broadcasts!” Eric burst out abruptly once the link had been reestablished. The new link was not as firm as the other had been, and although the time distortion had been eliminated, his likeness now seemed fainter, less distinct.
There was fury in his voice, and it occurred to Adela that she had never before seen in him the blaze of anger that now flashed in his eyes. In one way it lent him an air of strength, an attitude of vitality she had never previously witnessed in him; at the same time, it suggested weakness, in that his emotions could be so passionate as to threaten his composure. She could not tell for sure which of these two was closer to the truth; there was so much about this man—her own son—that she had never experienced during all her travels and long years of sleep, and she simply did not know him well enough to make that determination.
“I can no longer allow him to go on poisoning the minds of people already frightened by years of his hatred. For so long, now, it has been a nonstop effort merely to correct his lies, countering his efforts by spreading the truth. It was all I could do. To the both of you”—he nodded at Lewis and Brendan—“and your sister, I owe a debt of thanks for your efforts. You can take comfort that until now only the weak-minded have fallen for this man’s lies.” Eric paused, anger still simmering just below his words. “But now, with the discovery there at Tsing, he is using this new, young race to make his hate even more appealing to those who would already accept his views; and the fear of the unknown more uncomfortably real to those whose minds tremble at the thought of all things new and strange. And if he were to obtain the Paloma Blanca’s report of the crash-and-burn site at South Camp, or if he already has and decides to make some twisted version of it public before we’ve been able to determine exactly what it is …” He almost literally shuddered at the thought.
“I have yearned for years to put an end to his stupidity, but have always found myself powerless to do so. Jephthah has been a phantom who dwells everywhere, and nowhere, at the same time. Unable to stop him, the best I have been able to do is to chase after the effects of his passing.”
He paused again, his face changing. Where before anger and frustration were evident on his features, now a sense of relief, even satisfaction appeared behind his eyes.
“Now, however, I finally have the means to stop him, at least for a time. And, ironically, it is he who has provided the means. Lewis, have you accounted for all ships currently in the system, as I asked?”
“I have, Father,” he replied. “There are now fifty-nine Imperial ships of varying classes in the system. I’ve assigned a signature code to each … .” He touched a button on the armrest of his couch and a three-dimensional representation of the solar system appeared in the center of the ring of couches. The G-class star that was Tsing 479 was at its heart, the orbits of the eleven planets ringing it filling the void above the floor. Scattered throughout the holographic image was an arrangement of several dozen bright red dots, and a smaller quantity of green ones. While the red dots were evenly distributed throughout the system, all but one of the green points of light stayed well beyond the limit of the planet farthest from the star. Floating next to each dot was a corresponding code number.
“Imperial ships are indicated in red and, as you can see, nearly half are in the vicinity of the fourth planet itself, either in orbit or at the Lagrange points. Others are concentrated in tighter solar orbits or are taking station at the other planets in the system.” Lewis stood, walking into the projection. “The green dots are Sarpan ships. However, only one Sarpan ship, the Cra Stuith, is actually ‘inside’ the system at the present time.” He leaned into the image, pointing at a solitary green pinpoint near Tsing IV. “The commander has been given local authority here from his homeworld, and he has agreed that all other Realm vessels will be kept just outside the orbit of number eleven.”
“Can you trust him?” Eric asked sharply.
“Yes, Brendan and I both agree that he’ll stick to his word.”
“They have a stake in this, too,” Brendan added by way of agreement with his older brother. “And as long as they’re permitted to have a presence here, they’d just as soon keep everything else back a safe distance.” He smiled, arching an eyebrow. “With everything they’ve
been hearing the last few years, I’m not so sure they trust us all that much. I imagine they feel safer with this arrangement; outside eleven’s orbit they’re not sitting in the middle of a fleet that outnumbers them five to one.”
Lewis nodded. “They’re more than satisfied for the moment with just the one ship in orbit.” He retook his seat and touched the armrest again to cancel the display. The vista faded immediately.
“Excellent.”
“Eric, there’s something I don’t quite understand,” Adela said. “You suggested a minute ago that Jephthah himself had given you the means to stop him. How?”
“His last broadcast was, as always, traced to Mark-89. But since no Imperial ship has left the Tsing system within the last eight days—and we’re all agreed that that’s when the recording of the airship raid must have been accessed—it could not have been delivered to him. We can be reasonably certain, then, that his broadcast must have originated where you are.” The Emperor hesitated, then added simply, “Jephthah must be there right now, with you, on one of those fifty-nine ships.”
Adela gasped. Of course, she thought incredulously. It makes perfect sense. He has to be here.
Somehow, she felt dirty, as if someone had violated her in a personal way. She shivered, rubbing at the gooseflesh on her arms, and fought the unreasonable urge to look over her shoulder.
“Wait a minute,” Lewis said. “Every transmission that’s been sent from here has required personal authorization from Brendan or me. Anything transmitted without authorization would be detected, automatically coded, and flagged for our attention. There’s no record of his address coming from here, any more than there’s a record of the code for the airship recording being sent out-system.”
“Nothing on Imperial channels, you mean,” Adela stated candidly. All heads turned in her direction. “What if he recorded his address—and don’t ask me how he managed to find the facilities to accomplish that—then sent it out as a scrambled message through a Sarpan frequency to whatever method he uses to rebroadcast through this ‘Mark-89’ heading of his? Closed Sarpan transmissions can’t be monitored or intercepted—could doing something like that be possible?”
All were quiet for a moment, until Brendan leaned forward, his finger wagging the air excitedly in front of him. “Yes. It’s extremely possible.” His brow furrowed as he eagerly thought it through. “Making the recording itself is easy—” He scanned the room, his gaze coming to rest on the comm terminal on the wall near the entranceway. “Anyone could do that at any comm terminal, even that one right there. Once it’s recorded, he doesn’t send it through the terminal, but dumps it instead to a data stick and takes it with him. At his leisure, he scrambles it any way he wants, encodes it and sends it on a handlink through the nearest Sarpan dish, which in itself isn’t that difficult—the Sarpan have a fairly widespread presence, albeit it a limited one, throughout the Hundred Worlds. Then he just sits back as the encoded programming directs it along whatever circuitous route he wants to send it on before it appears to originate from Mark-89. The best part is that the addresses have all been short enough that a scrambled, encoded broadcast would barely register a blip even if the Sarpan were monitoring for it. It’s brilliant in its simplicity.”
“Pardon me,” Lewis sneered at his brother, “if I don’t seem to admire all of this as much as you obviously do.”
“Forget it,” Eric snapped. “Brendan’s right. It is ingenious, and we’ve all been fools to let it slip past us so easily. However, it makes what I’ve decided to do to contain him somewhat easier to arrange.” He glanced to one side, a faraway look momentarily visible in his eyes. “I’ve just given the order to institute a total quarantine of Tsing system. No ship traffic in or out of the wormhole, and no transmissions of any kind to be sent out-system. How long will it take to set up a jamming net at your location?”
Lewis whipped a handheld data pad out of the breast pocket of his jacket and pressed the keypad several times. “There are fifteen Imperial ships in a wide enough solar orbit to assume jamming positions in … thirty-six hours at the outside. I can have a partial net up in a fraction of that time, however.”
“Good. Do it. In the meantime, there are …” He lingered a moment, concentrating. “There are twenty-two ships at the wormhole, ten on this side of the gate and twelve on yours. I want full defensive posture instituted there. You’re more familiar with the abilities of your commanders than I, so assign them as you think best.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And, Lewis—I mean that no ship is to leave. See to it that any attempt, made by any ship, is unsuccessful.”
“I understand.” The young commander nodded solemnly. “I’ll choose my commanders well.”
“But what about the Sarpan?” Adela asked urgently.
Eric allowed the corners of his mouth to curl upward slightly. “I think that once I’ve explained to them how Jephthah, the main threat to a continued alliance with the Realm, utilized their own facilities to accomplish his goals, they’ll be more than willing to join us in this effort. In any event, we’ll know soon; I’ve just sent a request for a formal audience with their leader, the Guardian.”
A brief silence fell over the room.
“There’s one more thing I’d like to discuss,” Adela began. “The deathguards you’ve got following me around. I want them recalled.”
“No.” Eric’s answer was immediate, his tone unequivocal. “I want them in place now, more than ever.”
“They’re suffocating me!” She pulled back, then, leaning heavily into the couch and gripping the armrests in an effort to control her own anger. “I find my travel requests delayed or speeded up to accommodate them. I’m placing others in danger when they’re with me in a crowded situation. I suspect every one I see of following me or staring at my every move. I won’t have it anymore, Eric!” Adela glared at her son. “I’ve even made one of them; her name is Andina—or at least that’s the name she’s using—and she’s masquerading as a steward, of all things, on the Kiska.”
“Mother—”
“No!” she said, standing firm. “Eric, I need to move freely if I’m to be any good at all to you here. Don’t handicap me in this way.”
Eric said nothing for a moment, then: “All right. I won’t recall them, but I’ll order their status changed to level two, the same level as the agents assigned to Lewis and Brendan.” Both men straightened in surprise at the words. It was apparent that neither of them had been aware that they, too, were under the surveillance of IPC guards. “They’ll still be looking after your safety, but you’ll be free to move about without a ‘shadow.’ And since you’ve seen through her cover, the agent you identified as ‘Andina’ will be reassigned. Will this be acceptable?”
“I suppose it’ll have to do.”
“Good, as it’s as far as I’m willing to go in this matter …” He looked at each of them in turn. “With any of you.”
A quiet sense of finality came over the conference room. Lewis stared intently, unbelievingly, at the image of his father, waiting for him to continue. Brendan, meanwhile, squirmed uneasily in his couch. Clearly, the thought that Eric had assigned IPC agents without their knowledge had affected both of them quite profoundly.
“You all have things to do,” he concluded. “I’ll let you get to them. In the meantime, I’ll contact Cathay and explain what’s happening there so she can make her travel plans accordingly. Lewis, I’ll have her go directly through you before the jamming net is in place, so that her ship may be escorted through the blockade at the gate.”
“Of course” was all the young commander replied.
Lewis and Brendan exchanged a brief glance, Adela noted. What was it they weren’t saying?
“Good luck, all of you. In a few hours, you’ll be on your own.”
Eric’s likeness faded from the couch.
“System …” Lewis said, already on his feet. His fingers flew over the keys of the data pad. As he addressed the Scarta
ris net to arrange travel orders for the list of ships scrolling on the handheld’s tiny screen, Brendan busied himself at the comm terminal. Neither looked at her.
There was another comm terminal located on the opposite wall, and while she waited for the two men to complete their business, she made a few calls of her own to organize everything she wanted to accomplish before the jamming net was in place. The last call she placed was to Anmoore, to arrange to accompany the next survey team in its search for artifacts in the westernmost section of the main northern landmass where some promising finds had been located.
The academician had already concluded his conversation when she bid good-bye to the captain, arid was about to leave the holoconference room before she managed to stop him at the door.
“Brendan, if you have some time, could I talk to you a moment?”
He turned back to her, standing warily in the entranceway, and met her eyes. Brendan was not much taller than she. “Of course.” He smiled warmly, but it was clear he would rather have continued out the door. Across the room, Lewis noticed the two of them together and hurriedly completed his business, then signed off the system and joined them at the entranceway.
“Good,” she said. “I can ask you both. What was that a moment ago? When your father mentioned Cathay you both became apprehensive. The link had weakened at that point and I don’t think he noticed it on his end, but I was sitting right next to you.”
Brendan glanced at Lewis, nodding.
“She’s not coming,” the older brother replied directly. “Father doesn’t know yet.”
“She feels there’s a considerable amount of work still to be done in Australia,” Brendan added.
