"Questioned some months later, said miner maintained that he had shipped solo. Contrary to the ship's lading, no one had been with him. Claimed the other party had never showed at lift-off, and he himself had been too lazy to change the manifest. There was, indeed, no sign that anyone had ever been on the ship besides this individual.
"But Halperin produced evidence that it was physically impossible for one human to have consumed the amount of rations missing from the ship. The miner contradicted him. Swore that he was a hearty eater. Pity."
Evidently that was the end of the spindar's story. By then, Sten knew better, but asked what happened anyway.
"The planetary patrols in the frontier worlds are somewhat pragmatic. Not to say ruthless. They purchased an equivalent amount of rations and sat the suspect down in front of them. Gave him thirty days to prove his innocence. Trial by glut, I suppose you would refer to it. A definite pity."
Again the spindar dug out instruments and, attaching extensions to them, swept the ceiling area. "The man died of overeating on the third day. Odd system of justice you humans have.
"This case," the spindar continued, reseating himself, "is even stranger. You do, just as you warned me, Lieutenant, appear to have a great quantity of nothing."
For Sten, that was the first positive lead toward finding the disappeared Dr. Knox.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"And what, captain, does nothing give you?" the Eternal Emperor asked.
The Emperor might appear less angry, but Sten was determined to keep the briefing as short as possible. As long as he stuck to business, he probably couldn't get in much trouble.
"This Knox did not want the room cleaned. My theory is that he was afraid some personal evidence might still be in the room's automatic cleaning filters.
"We found no fingerprints. No traces of dead skin, no urine traces in the bed, no sweat or oil stains in the pillow. Also, there was no IR residue in the bed coverings."
"Thank you, Captain. I will now assume you and the techs produced every sort of zero-trace science can look for. Explain."
Sten did. Knox not only cleaned the room minutely, but also used sophisticated electronics to remove all traces of his occupancy.
"So. Your, uh, Knox character's more than just a professional doctor."
"That's the assumption," Sten said carefully. "Haines—she's the police OIC on the case—is tracing doctors who might have learned another set of skills."
"If your Knox is as good as you say, Captain, I'd assume he was an offworlder."
"Haines is checking all Prime World arrivals within the last E-year, sir."
"Good luck. Prediction, Captain: You're going to draw a big fat blank."
"Probably. Which is why we're working angle B—the bomber."
The Emperor shrugged. "If you've got one pro, why couldn't the bomber be just as faceless?"
"Because the bomber—" Sten caught himself before he could say "blew it."—"made a mistake."
The Emperor considered. "All right. Work that angle. Is there anything else?"
Sten shook his head—there was no point in mentioning the tacsquad's mysterious presence until Haines had more information.
"One more thing, Captain. For your information only. The Tahn Embassy's Principal Secretary has requested an interview with me. I think we may both assume what it will be regarding.
"And I really would like to be able to tell him more than 'I got plenty of nothing.'
"That's all, Captain. You may go."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sten fingered the pore-pattern key on his mailbox and absentmindedly fished out its contents. It was the usual junk—The Imperial Guard Times, Forces Journal, the palace's daily house organ, the latest promotion list, an ad from a military jeweler—all of which went into the disposal. Sten tucked one fiche—reminder of his somewhat past-due bill from a uniform tailor—into his belt pouch and started to close the little door. Then he saw something else and fished it out curiously.
It was a real paper envelope, addressed by hand to "Captain Sten, Imperial Household." Sten fumbled the envelope open. Three other pieces of paper dropped into his hand. The first was a blank envelope. The second was a thick engraved paper card:
MARR & SENN Request the Honor of
Your Attendance At a Dinner Reception for
KAI HAKONE RSVP Guest
Perplexed, Sten stared at the invitation. Of course he knew Marr and Senn as the Imperial caterers and unofficial social arbiters at Court. The brief meetings he'd had with them had been purely official, even though he was personally intrigued by their bitchy humor and warmth. He wondered why they'd invite a lowly captain, regardless of position, to what must be a Major Social Event.
The third piece of paper, also hand-written, explained it. The card said simply, "It's time for old friends to meet again," and was signed Sofia.
Umm. Sten knew that the woman he'd had a brief but very passionate affair with during a previous assignment was on Prime World—he'd been responsible for getting Sofia off Nebta before the shooting started—but had semideliberately not looked her up, having no idea any longer what he felt toward her.
Sten decided he needed some advice. In the Imperial Household, unofficial advice for officers was the province of the Grand Chamberlain. His offices were only a few hundred meters from the Emperor's own business suite.
The Grand Chamberlain, Fleet Admiral Mik Ledoh (Ret.), looked like everyone's favorite grandsire. Sten, however, had looked up the admiral's record as part of his routine security check while settling into the job.
A hundred years before, Ledoh had been a fireball. Literally. During the Palafox rising, his tacship flight was ordered to provide cover for a small planetary landing. Unfortunately, intelligence had erred, and the planet was strongly defended by hardened orbital satellites.
Ledoh had supervised the conversion of the tacships into pilot-aimed nuclear missiles, and then led the strike himself. He and three other pilots managed to jettison their capsules successfully.
Then, over the next decades, he'd become the Imperial fleet's prime specialist in planetary assaults. Promotion came rapidly for a man who, basically, specialized in logistics. By the time of the Mueller Wars, Ledoh was a fleet admiral.
The Mueller Wars were one of the more confusing conflicts of the Empire, since the battles were fought near-simultaneously on dozens of different worlds. During the wars, Ledoh commanded the landings in the Crais System, and in a war noted for its bloodiness and ineptness, took the system with minimal losses—minimal, at least, compared to the fifty to seventy percent casualties the war's other battles produced.
After peace was signed, Ledoh retired for some years, then emigrated to Prime World. When the previous Grand Chamberlain died in office following an unfortunate surfeit of smoked eels, Ledoh, with his combat record and, more important, logistical ability, was a natural for the job.
Sten could never figure out how Ledoh managed to juggle the various official and unofficial requirements of a household the size of a medium city and still maintain benevolence. Sten was very grateful that he had nothing more to worry about than keeping the Emperor alive, and the welfare of 150 Gurkhas.
Sten stepped inside Ledoh's office and paused.
Ledoh, Colonel Fohlee, CO of the Praetorians, and Arbogast, the Imperial Household's paymaster, were staring at a wallscreen readout.