There was a single decoration on his left chest—the emblem of a qualified ship's engineer. Of all the awards that had been made, this, he once told Mahoney, was the one he was proudest of. It was, he continued, the only one that he had earned instead of being bribed with.
The Emperor spoke, looking straight at the audience—not at the Parliament but at the red light on the livie camera mounted above and beyond the legislators. That was the real audience. His speech would be transmitted within minutes Empire wide, sim-translated into half a million different languages.
"One cycle ago," he began without preamble, "our Empire was knifed in the back by those whom we treated honorably as equals. The Tahn struck without cause, without warning, and without mercy. These are beings who worship their own gods with bloody hands—gods of disease, destruction, and chaos.
"I will not lie to you, my fellow citizens. They struck for our vitals. Not without success. They should welcome this brief candle. Because their success will be brief, indeed.
"War is the ultimate evil. But sometimes it must be fought. And even those wars fought for the most selfish of goals are given noble reasons. The most brutal tyrant will find, somewhere, a spark of decency in his heart, a spark that justifies his slaughter.
"But not the Tahn. Some of you may have seen their pirate propaganda 'casts. What do they want?
"They want the overthrow of our Empire.
"They want my destruction.
"But what do they offer? What do they promise?
"According to the Tahn, their victory will allow all beings an equal share in glory. What is this glory they promise? It is not more food. It is not greater security. It is not the knowledge that generations yet unborn will not be subject to the perils of this time. No. None of that is spoken of.
"Just this glory. Sometimes they call it the destiny of civilization. They mean their civilization.
"Those worlds and those peoples that have fallen to the Tahn and groan without hope or witness under their lash could tell us what this destiny brings.
"Despair. Degradation. And finally death. Death that is the only boon that the Tahn really grant, because only death will grant freedom from their tyranny.
"I said before that the Tahn have had their victories. I also said that these victories should be savored by them in haste. Because now the tide is on the turn.
"I speak now to those peoples subjugated by the Tahn. Be of good heart. You are not forgotten. The Tahn will be driven out. Peace will return.
"Now I wish to turn my attention to those who have listened to the blandishments of the Tahn, like dogs drawn to the sweetness of putrefaction. Consider the Tahn and their ways. Before this war, any alliances they made were shattered as soon as it became convenient. The only alliance the Tahn recognize is that between master and slave.
"Study their past. And think of an ancient saying: 'He who wishes to sup with the Devil should bring a very long spoon.'
"Next, I wish to speak directly to the enemy.
"You are very loud in your boasts of your strength. You blazon your winnings. You babble of the closeness of victory.
"Boast as you wish. But you shall find, as you reach out for this final conquest, that it shall recede and recede again from your grasp.
"Your soldiers and sailors will find nothing but death in all its unpleasantries. They will face not just an enemy armed and terrible in his armor in the battle lines, but the deadly anger of those they have outraged in their arrogance. The plight of your noncombatants will be great. They shall never see their young return. And, in time, their own skies will be flames.
"The Empire will return, with fire and sword.
"And finally, I am speaking to the warlords of the Tahn, whose ears are probably sealed in disdain from my words. You sowed this wind. Now you shall reap the whirlwind.
"Those who know me know I do not promise what I cannot fulfill. Therefore, today, I make but one promise. One generation from now, the word 'Tahn' shall be meaningless, except for historians walking the dark corridors of the past.
"You began this war. I shall finish it. The Tahn, with all your might and circumstance, shall lie forgotten in the dust!"
The Eternal Emperor pivoted and stalked from the podium.
He knew it was a good speech when he had written it.
He had upgraded it—the entire legislature was up and applauding. They'd clottin' better, he thought. And then he noticed that even the livie techs, the most jaded of observers, were shouting, their recorders abandoned.
Now all the Eternal Emperor had to do was find a way to keep his promise.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
The Gamble's damage-control computer found a semi-damaged redundant circuit, and Sten felt the ship's controls come vaguely back to life.
The tacship was less than 1,500 meters above the ground, ground quite invisible through the hanging fog that the ship was plummeting through. Sten's hands blurred over the control board. Nose thrusters—full emergency. Main Yukawa drive—full emergency.
Various blaring alarms and flashing indicators suggested to Sten that the controls' life span would be mayfly brief. He had time to kick the McLean generators to full power before the Gamble's board went dead again. The problem to be pondered was: If the Gamble's plummet was halted before it crashed, the ship would blast straight back up, into the probably waiting sights of the Tahn interceptors. If not, the possibilities were various in their unpleasantries. Sten slammed the impact lock on his control chair's safety harness and braced.
The Gamble was almost vertical when it struck.
Ship luck had returned for one final moment. Given the probabilities of hitting a mountainous crag, a glacier, or a scree field, the Gamble slid, tail first, into a high-piled snowfield. The snow compressed and melted, braking the Gamble's speed.
Another panel clanged into red life, drive tubes blocking was the central catastrophe. Sten's hand was poised over the emergency power cutoff breaker when the ship's computer decided that it might be dying but preferred something less Wagnerian than what would happen, and beat Sten to it.
Ail power cut, and the Gamble shuddered to a halt.
There was very complete silence, except for the dim hissing as the hot shipskin was cooled by the melting snow around it.
In blackness, Sten fumbled toward a cupboard and found a batterypak light. Pearly light illuminated the battered control deck.
"All compartments—report." That was another virtue of a ship as small as the Gamble—Sten's shout could be heard in most compartments and was quickly passed to even the stern drive station. Sten unsnapped his harness and started to his feet. Suddenly there was a rumble, and Sten staggered. The rumble grew louder, and then the Gamble shuddered and pitched a few more degrees to the side.
There was alarm from crew members, then silence again.
"What the hell was that?" Sten asked.
"Ah dinnae ken," Alex said. "Prog some'at nae good, though."
Sten waited for something else to happen.
It did not. The Gamble was evidently in its final resting place.
Sten took stock.
Things were not good. One of the wounded sailors from the Richards had been killed in the crash. Of Sten's own crew, McCoy, the engine master's mate, had been electrocuted when one of his engine monitor boards short-circuited. Two other sailors were dead, and Sten had two sailors with major injuries. Everyone else had bangs, bruises, or minor breaks.