However, the report had assured him the woman had been unsuccessful in getting any useful information.
But, wait! What about the code word she'd attempted to penetrate the computer?
Raschid!
How did she know that name? The Emperor's secret persona?
Poyndex?
Possible. But, only if he had secretly joined the enemy some time before. Besides, how would Poyndex have known that name?
No. Highly unlikely. Just as it was unlikely that Poyndex was a longtime traitor. A mole. Nothing in the man's profile fit this. He'd been running his own, complex power game, but the Emperor was just as certain now as before that Poyndex's power yearnings were satisfied by being the most important member of the Emperor's staff.
Could the rebels sweeten that kitty?
Not a chance, the Emperor thought. Besides, Poyndex was the type to take the cash and let the credit go. Promises for the future by a rebel force had to be the rottenest credit in town.
There was one further item that argued against betrayal by Poyndex: the planetbusting program the Emperor had ordered. One hundred and eighteen planets and all their inhabitants had been targeted for destruction.
If Poyndex was in league with rebels, those planets would have been warned and their security jumped to the nth degree.
Intelligence assured him this had not happened. All transmissions and traffic from those systems were absolutely normal.
Good.
So, Poyndex was not a traitor.
Was he willing to bet his life on it?
Yes, he was.
This line of logic also erased the possibility Poyndex had been kidnapped. Or that he had revealed anything under torture. Because, once again, the intended victims would have been warned.
Very, very, good!
The Emperor rewarded himself with a drink.
As he was pouring, another possibility hit him. The trembling hand shook harder, spilling Scotch. He slammed the bottle down with such force that it shattered. Scotch pooled on his desk.
He didn't notice. Just as he didn't notice the sliver of glass in his palm.
The Shahryar mansion!
His safehouse!
What would be the worst-case scenario if the agent's mission had actually been successful? Even if the woman hadn't actually penetrated the computer, what could she have learned?
There was the tightbeam transmitter. Alori&r-it-iBeant little. But there was a second clue the enemy might have uncovered. And that clue could lead to one of his AM2 relay stations.
From that point, it would be simple to get a fix on Alva Sector!
Oh, come on, he scoffed. That's foolishness. That's assuming an awful lot. That's seeing a level of professionalism rare in the history of his Empire. Who could possibly have—
Another gut-wrenching thought.
Sten could have accomplished it!
Yes. By himself, or he could have planned a mission to be carried out by one of his supremely efficient comrades. Alex Kilgour, for instance. Or that Bhor woman-—what was her name? His warrior lover.
Could she have been the woman at the mansion?
No. That was ridiculous.
Wasn't it?
But...
Sten had been the very best he had ever had in his service. He had surpassed even that old warrior and spy master, Ian Mahoney. As an enemy, he had proven his deadly efficiency many times over.
Sten would have also been able to penetrate Arundel at will.
True.
But Sten was dead.
Wasn't he?
It was insanity to believe otherwise.
Wasn't it?
Another wrench of the gut. Bile rose. What was the proof of his death? There was no body. No witnesses.
Yes. But given the circumstances, escape had been impossible.
Hadn't it?
He felt a sudden chill. Hackles prickling like desert thorn.
The Emperor had a sudden certainly that it had all been a sham.
Sten was alive.
The Emperor drew a long breath. What should he do about it?
For the first time in his long reign, the Eternal Emperor was unsure what he ought to do next.
BOOK FIVE
ENDGAME
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
"ALL SYSTEMS GREEN. Entry to be effected in twenty seconds..."
There is a moment that confronts every sentient being. When moral imperative collides with survival in the shadow world that lies between decision and action.
The moment can be as simple as a choice between a lie and a self-destructive truth.
It can be as complex as a choice between the suffering of many or a moral and legal obligation to the few.
Theologians call it "free will."
There is no scientific term for this moment, although medical techs can trace with precision the effects of the inward struggle on the organism.
In humans, hormone and adrenal glands spurt their powerful mix into the system. Organs such as the heart and lungs speed up their actions. Fluid pressure and body temperature rise. Blood oxygen levels soar, especially in the muscles and the brain. Infection-fighting cells ready their chemical weapons to stave off attack. In extreme reactions, waste organs spasm empty—to lessen the chances of infection if the body is violently penetrated. The skin tightens to present a harder and smoother surface against a weapon. Sweat glands gape to pour out perspiration as the body's cooling system jumps to full readiness. The perspiration also acts as a lubricant between the limbs and the trunk of the body. In a man, the scrotum tightens and the testes rise to present a smaller, tougher target.
That's what science says.
Sten would have it said it was nothing more than plain animal fear.
He crouched alone on the small bridge of the tacship staring at the ship's monitor. Watching space rain fire. Sten had never seen or experienced anything like Alva Sector.
The tacship's voice rasped over the speaker: "Entry will be effected in ten seconds ..."
His mathematical mind—the side that also contains poetry and music—acknowledged beauty. Saw wonder in the ultimate disharmony at play in the forces unleashed where two universes touched.
But his soul saw nothing but a hole into Hell.
"Entry will be effected in nine seconds," came the speaker voice.
Sten watched a small comet streak toward the discontinuity. Tendrils ablaze with scintillants snaked out for it. Enveloped it The comet shattered with such violence, the pixels on the monitor screen exploded into white glare.
He steadied himself. Reached deep within and got a grip on the fear. He turned it this way and that, studying it by the light of his rational mind.
"Entry will be effected in eight seconds," the voice continued.
Sten wasn't afraid of sharing the fate of the comet Well... to be honest... only a little afraid. The tacship—as well as every item that might be exposed to the raw anti-particles of the other universe—had been plated with Imperium X in a lightning stop on Vi—huge deposits of the substance lay just beyond the Wolf Worlds.
In theory, he should be able to slip through the discontinuity into the other universe unscathed. He'd already sent a probe through and it had returned unharmed.
Therefore... what was there to fear? The Emperor's security? The dogs he would have set to watch over his treasure? No. Sten imagined whatever he might encounter would be clever and fierce. But, he'd overcome those two dogs before, and trusted enough in himself to overcome them again.
"... seven seconds ..."