"Are you sure," Solon Kenna pressed, "that we can't do anything more?"
"Maybe you can," came the answer. "I'm not sure. But right now, why don't you just stick tight. Enjoy yourself. I'll get back to you."
The Eternal Emperor shook the hand of one singularly happy politician.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The Key to the Kingdom looked unimpressive—deliberately so. It was a small moonlet, one of dozens larger and smaller, orbiting around a Jovian planet. The system was notable for only two reasons: it was completely without commercial value, and it was two steps beyond nowhere.
The moonlet had been constructed several centuries before. An asteroid was chosen for its size and worthlessness. Deep space crews were paid to excavate patterns across the asteroid and to install cables in those patterns. The excavations were filled in. The first crew was paid off and informed that their work had been part of a classified Imperial project. Then a second crew was brought in to construct a small underground shelter and, a few klicks away, an underground dock, hidden from line-of-sight to the shelter by a high ridge. Into the shelter went generators, supplies, and several elaborate and undescribed coms. The second crew was paid off. Somehow, as time passed, the beings who had worked on either crew got the idea that the classified project had been a failure, just another unspectacular research pan-out.
Drone tugs moved the asteroid to its chosen location around the gaseous giant and nudged it into orbit. Later Mantis teams, who were not told of the asteroid's existence, were sent in to provide security monitors in the system.
There were four other "keys" scattered around the universe, their location known only to the Eternal Emperor. They all had the same purpose.
The coms were set to accept only the Eternal Emperor and contained every screening device conceivable, from DNA pattern to pore prints, even to include the specious Bertillon classification. If anyone else entered the shelter, the coms would melt down into incomprehensible slag.
The coms were linked to a ship, somewhere in... another space... and to the roboticized mining/factory ships around it. On signal, the recommendation from the ship would be changed. Transshipment of AM2 would begin.
The long trains of robot "tankers" could also be controlled from the moonlet. Under "normal" circumstances, such as The Eternal Emperor having died accidentally, they might be routed to the conventional depot worlds. Or, under differing circumstances elsewhere. To reward the faithful and punish the heathens—or vice versa, depending on what the Emperor decided was the quickest, most expeditious way to regain control.
The Eternal Emperor crept into the system. He was in no hurry whatsoever. He repeatedly consulted the elaborate pickups he had requested be installed in the ship donated by the grateful Kenna. If any of the sensors showed any intrusion into the system—a lost mining ship, a drone, or even a wandering yacht—there was only one choice. Instantly abort and move to whichever moonlet was convenient for a secondary command site.
There was nothing reported by any of the out-system sensors. The Emperor chanced an arcing sweep over the system itself. Nothing. Emboldened, he reentered the system and closed on the gaseous giant. All pickups were clean.
He came in on the moonlet on the hemisphere opposite the shelter and nap-of-the-earthed to the dock. Its ports yawned—again, pickups clean—and he landed.
The Emperor suited up, made sure the suit's support mechanisms were loaded, and started for the shelter.
Halfway up that ridge, he muttered under his breath about being too paranoid. It was not easy staying low on a nearly zero-gee world. He had no desire to "pop up" into range if anyone was waiting at the dome, or to punt himself into orbit. Not only would jetting back be embarrassing, but he would be too easy to pick up if he was walking into a trap.
A few hundred meters from the shelter's entrance—just another slide-blocked cave—he stopped. He waited a full six E-hours, watching. Nothing. The way was clear.
The suit's environment system whined, trying to stabilize the temperature and recycle the sweat pouring from the Emperor's body. His fingers unconsciously touched his chest. Under suit, skin, and muscle the bomb waited.
He unsealed his pistol's holster and took a tiny com from his belt. He slid a wand-like probe out. In a rush, he went across the open space to the slide area. The probe was inserted into a nearly invisible hole, and the Emperor touched a button. After a moment, the slide opened. The Emperor could feel the vibration under his boot heels.
He walked into the cavern. The door slid closed behind him. Lights glowed on. He checked a panel. Again, no intrusion. The heaters were on full blast, and atmosphere was being dumped into the shelter. Very good.
He walked to a door, palmed it, and the door slid away. Inside, there was a small bedroom/kitchen/living suite. He closed the door behind him and glanced at another panel. Atmosphere... ninety-five percent E-normal. Temperature... acceptable. He unsealed his faceplate.
He felt hungry. The Emperor hoped that he had provided adequate rations. He would eat, then activate the com. He walked to the com room entrance—and the world shattered! He was greeted not by gleaming, waiting readouts and signal gear, but by cooled masses of molten metal.
Instantly the signal began, in his brain:
Exposure... Trap ... Discovered... Self-destruct! Self-destruct!
Another part of his brain:
No. Wait. Trap not confirmed. Too much time. Cannot recommence program without terminal damage to goal! Return to stand-by! Program override!
The bomb did not go off. Not even when the storeroom door opened and a voice said, "My security operatives were not as sophisticated as they believed."
The Emperor saw a space-suited figure, tall and gaunt. An arm reached up and opened the suit's faceplate. It was Kyes.
Again, the order... and again, somehow, the command was overridden.
"I am the only being in this system—besides yourself," Kyes said.
The Emperor found he could think once more. He said nothing, very sure that his voice would crack if he spoke. Kyes waited, then continued.
"Your progression here—and to return to your throne—is clever. It reminds me a bit of an Earth-legend I read. About a human named, I recall, Theseus."
"It could not have been that clever," the Emperor managed.
"Not true. For anyone to look for you, let alone find you, requires beginning with an insane belief: that you did not die. And then incredible resources."
Kyes indicated the destroyed com sets.
"My apologies for the ineptitude of my personnel. Although I am sure other stations besides this one exist. The resumption of the AM2 shipments can still begin—although that is meaningless to me."
The Emperor considered that. The situation was becoming... not familiar, but it appeared to be within understanding and possible control. First assumption: Kyes was planning to cut a deal and betray his fellow conspirators. No. He had said that AM2 was meaningless. Kyes wanted something else.
"You said you and I are the only beings in this system. To ask the obvious question: What is to prevent me from simply shooting you and escaping?"
"Why would you do something such as that?" Kyes asked in astonishment. "Revenge? Hardly a sensible motive, let alone Imperial. Especially considering that our attempt to... alter the chains of power... failed."
Failed? Instant analysis: Kyes's previous statement that "you did not die," and now this. The situation was improving—Kyes had not understood everything.