Or was it just the light?
The Empress waved the man in black toward a floating table containing a vast array of Venusian cloud wines. Then she activated a hum beam.
“You only ask to see me when something is wrong,” she said to the man as he helped himself to a large mug of super’rose. He was a spy. One of the best in the Empire.
“I wouldn’t be doing my job properly if that wasn’t so,” the man replied. “Secret as our talks have been.”
“And you do realize that no one of any consequence can ever know that we speak?” she told him. “And that you should never approach me in any other setting than the one before us now?”
The spy nodded. “I do, my lady.”
He sat down on the couch next to her. The Empress sipped her drink plaintively.
“So then? What is the problem?” she asked him, staring into the flames.
The spy shook his head.
“Well, that’s just it,” he began. “I’m not sure.”
The Empress looked over at him. “Not sure?”
“It’s just a feeling,” the spy confessed. “But it’s a deep one.”
“Tell it to me, then,” she said.
The spy took a deep gulp of wine. He would have to choose his words carefully.
“I think trouble is coming, my lady,” he said soberly. “In fact, it may already be here.”
The Empress thought about this for a moment. She used the spy only on the most secret of affairs. She had entrusted him to ferret out the truth for her, no matter where it might be hiding in the realm these days. Being able to do so was a rare talent. So when he spoke, she tended to believe him.
“And why do you feel this way?” she asked.
The spy leaned forward in his seat.
“You’re aware of the attack on the BonoVox?”
She nodded. “Most unnerving. What have you heard lately? Has anyone got a theory on how a Blackship penetrated… what do you call it again?”
“Supertime, madam… and no, the word is solid on this: No one has any idea how it was able to break through the Ethers. There’s a substantial internal investigation already ongoing. Ordered by your husband, I believe?”
She nodded brusquely.
“But how can they possibly investigate such a thing?” she asked. “It happened so far out…”
The spy tasted his drink. “I am no expert on these things, my lady,” he began correctly. “But I believe there is a way, a formula of some kind, that can determine where and how much power from the Big Generator the Blackship used while in Supertime. Once this is discovered, they might be able to track these units of power back from the source to its recipient in the moments before the attack.
Reconstructing the crime, so to speak. That can only lead to further revelations, I’m sure.”
The Empress dabbed her eyes.
“What I find particularly disturbing about this whole affair was the fate of those marauders caught in space after their ship was destroyed. They chose to end their own lives rather than be captured? Is that so?”
“They shot at each other until the last man blinked out,” the spy confirmed. “A very bizarre situation, all agree. Personally, I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Wouldn’t we have just held them in our jails had they been captured?”
The spy nodded. “And therein lies the strangeness. Our prisons are not places that further blacken men’s souls. These people would have been interrogated, yes. Scanned. Brain scrubs, the works. But afterward, they would have been sent somewhere fairly comfortable and been fed and clothed. A vast improvement over life as a pirate, snorting ion-ballast crystals whenever your food tube runs low.”
The Empress shivered noticeably. “Why kill themselves then?” she asked.
The spy just shook his head.
“Madam, no one I know has a clue,” he said.
She shivered again. “This is not a good situation…”
“True, but it is the reality of this Blackship appearing in Supertime, that is what’s really bothering me,” the spy said. “Not only is it baffling, it might prove catastrophic for all warships as well. We have always enjoyed complete invincibility within the Ethers. Complete invincibility. That’s a tough thing to lose. I know for a fact that our top commanders are now considering sending starfighter escorts with all ships traveling in Supertime out on the Fringe. This has never been necessary before. But now, should something like this happen again — well, the captain of the next ship attacked might not be as lucky as Zap Multx.”
The Empress nodded. “There was talk of giving the shuttle pilot who helped — does anyone even know his name? — some kind of commendation for his bravery. But Multx has managed to bury him somewhere. I can’t say I blame him. It is not like a starship captain to want a lowly shuttle pilot to get medals for saving his ship.”
“It’s best that the whole affair be kept quiet — we don’t need to be giving anyone any medals,” the spy said. “As far Zap Multx, my sources tell me his streak of luck is about to end.”
She sipped her drink. The fire waned a bit.
“But however the Blackship managed to get into the Ethers,” she said, “wouldn’t someone, somewhere in your network have heard something before the attack on the BonoVox? A loose set of lips out on the Fringe? A drunken braggart among the pirates? I mean, planning for such a monumental event could not have happened in a vacuum. Could it?”
The spy shook his head again. “Therein just lies more strangeness, my lady,” he said. “Word of such a dramatic plot would have leaked out eventually and traveled around the Fringe very quickly. As you know, there are few secrets that last very long out there. Yet my best contacts tell me these particular pirates were absolute unknowns — they certainly weren’t from the Sileasian System. No one knows what group they were from. No one knows where their bases are or even what sector they call home.”
The Empress stared into the fireplace again. Another log appeared, sparking new life to the smoldering embers.
The spy went on: “And why in the world would they attack a ship like the BonoVox? Think of what havoc they could have caused among our trading and cargo ships. What plunder they could have secured!”
“What were their motives, then?” the Empress pressed him. “To capture a second ship capable of Supertime?”
The spy shrugged. “That’s quite a goal for a first foray,” he said. “Pirates are usually a disorganized lot, and long on dull minds. Some can barely operate the claptrap vessels they use now. Trying a ship-to-ship takeover, as your first sortie into the Ethers? I’m not sure even our best troops could pull that one off.”
A brief silence fell. The fire was blazing again.
“So then,” she finally said, “I’m sure the incident itself is already the whisper of the Fringe.”
“It is,” the spy confirmed.
“And the conventional thinking is?”
The spy paused before answering.
“That these pirates,” he finally began, “if they were pirates, must have received the Supertime technology from someone… well, close to us, I’m sad to say.”
The Empress was stunned. Her shoulders dropped dramatically.
“Are you suggesting… that someone in our own forces gave this sacred technology to them?”
The spy shook his head once again. “What other explanation could there be, my lady? Even if the pirates simply stumbled upon the technology — in a shipwreck, let’s say — they still would have to implement it.