The Emperor chose to make his announcement after the services, on the broad steps of the inner fortress itself. This time his speech was recorded and patched into a cluster-wide broadcast.
"I have visited Sanctus," he said. "And I have seen the fruits of Talamein and found them worthy of belonging to my Empire.
"I further have known and listened to this man, your prophet Theodomir, and find him both good and wise.
"For this reason, I declare that the hand of the Emperor is extended over the Lupus Cluster and its people, and shall assist in whatever means requested.
"And I declare that this Prophet, Theodomir, is the legitimate ruler of the Lupus Cluster and that he and his descendants, until I choose to withdraw the hand of support from over their heads, are the legitimate rulers of this region.
"May the powers of the universe and the First Prophet Talamein bless and approve this decision."
And then there was mass cheering and hysteria and the Emperor wanted more than anything else to get back to the ship, shed his robes and have several—no, many—drinks.
But he couldn't. Now the banqueting would start.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
MAHONEY COUNTED TOMBS as he crept down the Avenue of Monuments. He found the specified crypt and waited. No sign of being followed. No one waiting for him. He came to a crouch and moved into the blackness of the crypt entrance.
"Colonel," Sten's voice came out of the darkness, "I think we might have a problem."
"GA," Mahoney said flatly.
"No hard data."
"I said report."
"Feelings, rumors. There's talk of a holy war. It's nothing I can pin down."
Mahoney was somewhat grateful for the darkness. Sudden shock is not the appropriate reaction to display before one's underlings.
"Theodomir?"
Sten shrugged.
"How?" Mahoney asked. "He's an alky. Corrupt. No drive."
"I know," Sten said. "It doesn't make sense.
"How about Mathias?"
"It's possible," Sten said. "Look, I told you it was just talk. Still, it bothers me. I just wish you would have given it more time to settle out."
Mahoney considered a moment, and then nodded. "You did ask for more time," he said.
Sten didn't say anything.
"You were right, lad. We should have waited for the situation to settle out further. I cannot tell you why, but there was no time."
"All right," he continued wearily. "You're the man on the spot, Lieutenant. Prog?"
Sten Fingered the lump in his arm that was the knife and thought hard. "Damfino," he said frankly. "But I'd better find some way to keep my mercs together for a while. All I can think of is to hang tough in the situation.
"You realize what might happen in a worst-case scenario—aside from a half-million slaughtered miners, full-out war in the Lupus Cluster, armed prophets spreading through the Universe, and full committment by the Guard—don't you? I mean to you and me, lad, to mention the important things."
"I go to a duty battalion and you go to a field command."
"Wrong. We both will be swinging pulaskis on some swampworld. You as a private and me as a sergeant," Mahoney said. "That's providing, of course, the Eternal Emperor doesn't use our guts for our winding sheets.
"At this stage of the game, though, I guess your prog's right. Hopefully, if the worst comes down, you and your troops can figure a way to shortstop the problem. But I doubt it."
He shook his head sadly and started out of the crypt.
"Colonel?"
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
"A favor. Actually, two of them?"
Mahoney stopped dead. Lieutenants do not ask personal favors of their commanding officers, not even in Mantis Section. But lieutenants also normally lacked the temerity to tell their commanding officer his battle plan was full of drakh.
"What?"
"I had a man serving with me. A Private William Kurshayne. He died during that last raid on the Jann."
"Go on," Mahoney said.
"He was ex-Guard. First Assault. I'd like him reinstated posthumously. And a medal wouldn't hurt, either. If he's got any people it might make them feel better."
Mahoney didn't ask if it was deserved. Still, he shook his head. "How do I find his records, Lieutenant? Do you know how many Kurshayne's we must've had in the guard?"
Sten grinned.
"You'll find the right one easily, sir. Busted fourteen times and recommended for the Galactic Cross about four times."
Mahoney reluctantly agreed. He would do it.
"And what's the other favor, since I'm evidently picked as your dogsbody, Lieutenant?
Sten hesitated. "It's more personal."
Mahoney waited.
"It's about Parral's sister," Sten finally said. "Sofia."
"Beautiful woman."
"Take her out with you. She wants to be presented at court."
"You think the situation is that close, lad?"
"I don't know, sir."
Mahoney considered, then shrugged. What the hell. He'd do that, too.
"Tomorrow night. Lieutenant. Start of third watch. Have her report to the Vercingatorix. Ramp C. I'll take care of her."
"Thank you, sir."
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
THE ISLAND CONTINENT of Sanctus seemed to shudder as the Imperial fleet lifted from the ground, hovered for a moment parallel with the reviewing stand where Theodomir and Mathias stood flanked by the Companions. Then the ships hazed and vanished straight up into blackness.
Far down the field, behind a hangar, stood Otho, Sten, and Alex.
Sten waved good-bye to Sofia. She had taken the news of her imminent departure with little surprise. At least she had said very little. But then neither of them had in their last wild flurry of lovemaking before Sten escorted her to the landing ramp of the huge Imperial battleship.
He put that part of his life into his backbrain and turned to Otho.
"You humans have such a love of farewells," the Bhor began.
"Not now, Otho," Sten said. "I want you to get one of your combat lighters fueled and on ten-minute standby. And I want two ships standing by off Nebta.
"For the lighter, I want two of the gunners you used on Urich as crew and yourself as pilot."
Otho's brow beetled upward. "Impossible, Colonel. With the war over, I have my mercantile interests, which I've already had to—"
"This is important. Because if you don't, there might not be any Bhor mercantile interests ever."
Otho grunted, then seemed to understand. "You have no reasons for this?
"None I can tell."
"Then I do understand. It is your weird."
It was Sten's turn to look perplexed.
"It shall be done. I will have the ships off Nebta in five days. I assume they will be used in case your soldiers need immediate shelter."
Sten sighed in relief. Now, at least, he'd set up a back door for himself and the mercenaries.
Unfortunately his weird, his fate, would be determined in less than twenty hours. Far too soon for Otho's ships.
CHAPTER FIFTY
STEN GROUNDED THE gravsled at the end of the dirt track, climbed out, straightened his uniform, and walked on.
Beyond the track led the path to the camp of Mathias' Companions, a path now newly blazoned with their scarlet banner. And, as he walked past the hanging banners, he remembered something that Mahoney had told him, about there being nothing more dangerous than a soldier who's gotten his first hero ribbon.
"Ten-hut!"
Mathias, flanked by two Companions, was waiting at the path's last bend. The three were drawn up at full attention, holding salutes. Sten, in return, gave them the almost-limp, afterthought salute of a ranking officer.