From long habit as former commander of the Emperor's personal guard, Sten knew he was at ease when drink was mentioned. But being "At Ease," and being "at ease" were difficult under the circumstances. It had been many years since he had a shot of stregg with the boss. And in those times, Sten had thought that the word "Eternal" was merely a symbolic title, if he thought of it at all.
He noticed, however, that when the Emperor took his drink, he only gave it an absentminded sip. Sten did the same.
"I won't thank you for all you've done," the Emperor said. "The words would seem silly. At least to me."
Sten wondered what was up. The Emperor, despite his pose of informality, was being damned formal. That usually meant he had a surprise up his sleeve. Sten hoped it did not involve him. He saw the Emperor frown at him slightly, then look at the barely touched stregg in his own hand. The frown vanished, and the Eternal Emperor tossed it back in one swallow. He slid the glass across the table for more. Sten drank his own down and redid the honors. He felt the stregg light its way down and spread out its warmth, but he still felt no more at ease.
He wished like clot he could ask the Emperor how he did it. Where had he been for all those years? What had he done? And why in clot wasn't he dead? No, best not ask. The Emperor was jealous of his secrets.
"The last time we talked together," the Emperor said, "I was doing my damndest to give you a promotion. You turned me down. I hope you aren't planning on making that a habit."
Oh, clot, here it comes. Sten braced himself.
"How does head of Mercury Corps sound?" the Emperor said. "I'll raise its command grade and give you a second star. How does that sound, Admiral?"
"Retired admiral, sir," Sten said, gulping. He had to get it out fast. "And I hate to seem ungrateful and all, but no thanks. Please."
Sten saw the cold look knot the Emperor's brow. Then it eased slightly.
"Why?" It was a one-word command.
"It's like this. I've spent my whole life soldiering. In public service, if you will. I've been rewarded far more than I could have ever dreamed. I was nothing. A Vulcan Delinq. Now, I'm an admiral. And you want to make it with two stars. Thank you, sir. But no thanks.
"I have to start making my own life. Find a place for myself in the civilian world. I was confused before. Maybe I still am. But only a little. Because I'm looking forward to it. It's time for me to start doing the usual, dull human business."
Sten thought of Lisa Haines, and how undull his life might have been if events had not intervened. The whole time he had spoken, he had kept his eyes down. Now he looked up to see the Emperor glaring at him, eyes white steel.
"I'm not doing a good job of this, sir," Sten said. "I'm not explaining very well. It's not something that comes out easy for someone like me."
He said no more. The Emperor would let him know if more was welcome. The glare shut off. The Emperor chugged half his drink, then lifted his legs up on his desk and eased back in his chair.
"I understand," he said. "I'm asking you to make a big sacrifice. Actually, another big sacrifice. But I don't think you realize the situation."
He finished his drink, leaned over, and hooked the bottle with a finger, poured, and shoved the stregg back to Sten. They both drank—and refilled.
"But look at the mess we're in," the Emperor continued as if there had not been a halt. "Beings are starving. Millions have no work. Just about any government you look at is near collapse. Just getting the AM2 to the right places and fast is going to be a nightmare. Much less all the other troubles I see ahead. Now what am I going to do about all this—without any help?"
Sten shook his head. He had no answer.
"So why is it a big surprise when I ask someone like you—with all those years of public service, as you said—to stay with me now? Where else can I get that kind of experience?"
"Yessir," Sten said. "I see your point. But—"
"But me no buts, young Sten," the Eternal Emperor said. "Look. I'm not asking for me. I'm asking for your Empire. How can you refuse? Tell me that. How can you look me in the eye and refuse to help?
"But don't answer yet. Forget Mercury Corps. I have a better idea. I'm making you my chief troubleshooter—with some kind of fancy plenipotentiary sort of title. Help me out with heads of state, tricky negotiations, and any kind of major crisis situation.
"And for your first job, I want you to help me out with the Bhor. I want to do something special for them. They've been my most loyal subjects. They were your idea way back, if I recall."
"Yessir," Sten said.
"So. They're going to have a big celebration in the Lupus Cluster. Honoring my return and all and the victory over those clots who wanted to be my enemy. I want you to go there for me. To the Wolf Worlds. Be my representative at the ceremonies. I can't think of a being they would appreciate more. Can you?"
"Nossir," Sten said. And as he said it, he knew he was doomed.
The Eternal Emperor was right. There was no way he could refuse him this—or the rest that would follow.
The victory celebrations aboard the Bhor fleet lasted all the way back to the Lupus Cluster.
Cind kept a close watch on Sten. He joined in all the toasts and the parties and kept up with his hard-drinking friends, Otho and Kilgour. But in repose, his face became a mask, revealing nothing. She knew him better now. She could sense the thoughts churning through his mind-but what those thoughts were, she had no notion.
Cind saw him jolt up once in the middle of a toast to the Eternal Emperor and look up at the portrait on the ship's banquet compartment wall. He stared at it for a long time, then shook his head and downed his drink. A moment later he was laughing and talking with his friends again.
But Cind would remember that look for a long time-and wonder what was on Sten's mind.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Malperin and Lovett sat in a cell aboard the Emperor's personal yacht, the Normandie. It might have appeared a rather comfortable suite, but the doors were locked and guarded, any conceivable or potential weapons had been removed, and there were sensors monitoring their every breath.
The fog they had been in when Sten captured them had begun to lift.
They had been told they were to be tried. The trial would take place on Newton. They would be offered the finest defense counsels in the Empire, and an adequate time to prepare whatever defense they chose.
Cautiously, mindful of the monitors, the two had begun discussing what they should do, what defense might be offered. They had begun to use circumlocutions as they planned, and, against logic, to whisper.
There had been six of them once-determined to reach for the highest power of all. And, for a moment, they had held it.
Now... forget the deaths and forget the cell. Life is to be lived, Malperin said. Lovett managed a small smile.
There was a tap outside, and the compartment door opened.
A man entered. Neither tall nor stocky, he looked to be in good physical shape. He was wearing expensive civilian clothes. He was not an ugly man, not a handsome man.
"Gentlebeings," he said softly. "I have been assigned as your escort and aide for the trial. "My name is Venloe."
Mahoney stormed into the Eternal Emperor's private office, spewing obscenities. He held a fiche in his shaking hand.
"Lord, Ian. What happened?"
"Some clottin' drakh-head on the Normandie! Playing God! 'Prisoners managed to escape cell. Found way to lifecraft. Attempted to enter. Security officer tried to apprehend, but was forced to...'
" 'Shot while attemptin' escape!' Christ! Clottin' bastard can't even find an original excuse.