And just what is it you really want? Adela wondered. And what might your price be? “Here is your answer, then: There is nothing wrong with that, Mistress. In fact, I’ll certainly need to make use of whatever help I can get. If your influence could become a factor in gaining support from the frontier worlds, then the help of House Valtane would be most welcome.”
Apparently satisfied that this meeting was ended, Rihana rose and crossed to the door.
“Thank you for your time, Doctor,” she said, tossing a holocard on the service table. The flimsy card skittered frictionlessly across the surface of the table and fell to the floor.
“You can reach me with this to set up any arrangements we deem mutually beneficial.” She smiled politely and half bowed, certainly more out of acknowledgment than respect, and knocked once at the closed door. One of her attendants on the other side opened it immediately.
Before exiting, however, Rihana turned briefly, almost as an afterthought. “This project… it will take many generations to complete, am I correct?”
“Yes, it will,” she replied, rising. “I’ll need years of cryosleep and rejuvenation to see it through to its conclusion.”
Rihana nodded, a sadistic smile coming to her lips. “Then you will lose him, you know. Just as I did.” She turned abruptly and left without another word.
Adela knew it, of course, but had refused to allow herself to think about it. Not now. Not today.
She thumbed the door closed and retrieved the holocard, noting that the copper-colored card was apparently blank, translucent. Holding it to the light at the right angle, however, the Valtane crest glowed a brilliant cobalt blue.
Emperor Nicholas felt slightly dazed and blinked several times, trying to minimize the stress caused by the lengthy integrator download he’d just accepted. Accessing the Imperial computer system was becoming more of a strain to him, and he reserved its use lately only for periodic bits of quick information, or for those informational files that were too long to be reported orally. Like the one Glenney had just given him.
“They were all killed, then?” the Emperor asked at last.
Glenney lowered his eyes. “Unfortunately yes. We don’t have much to go on at this point; and we’re getting precious little help from authorities on Earth.”
“You are certain their ties lead to the planet itself?”
“Yes, Sire. Further, as I mentioned in the report, I’m beginning to believe this group may have been involved in the landing bay explosion, or connected to the group that was.” Glenney reached into his jacket and produced a gold bracelet, handing it to the Emperor. “Two of the dead men were wearing these.”
The Emperor turned it over in his hands, examining the workmanship of the etching on its surface, and noticed how light it was. He tapped it on the armrest of the powerchair. “Hollow?”
Glenney nodded, adding, “Volatile chemicals could have been secreted in a chambered version, with a tiny valve to intermix the chambers at the right time. The gold itself would have provided excellent shielding. This one, of course, is empty.”
“Who were they, and what threat did they pose to the Planetary Council?”
“Uncertain at this time, Sire. However, there is a chance that this group, in itself, posed little or no threat to the Council whatever.”
“Meaning?”
“Sire, I suspect they were part of a considerably larger, well-organized effort that felt my people were getting a little too close to uncovering them. I think they set this group up purposely, as decoys, hoping we’d assume they constituted the bulk of their threat and would curtail our investigation. I doubt these five were even aware they’d been set up.”
The Emperor considered this last. “Whoever was behind them, sacrificed them.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“ ‘He who is willing to die for his cause thinks nothing of killing you for his cause.’ Do you know who said that?”
“Sire?”
“A twentieth-century writer of plays.” The Emperor shook his head at the irony. “What it means is that you are dealing with a group of people who will stop at nothing to achieve their goals. Remember that. Give the investigation of this group your highest priority.”
Glenney nodded in agreement.
“Is your next report lengthy?” Glenney nodded again and the Emperor sighed tiredly. “Very well.” He closed his eyes for the few moments it took for the images and information to flow into his mind.
The Emperor took a deep breath and straightened in his powerchair when the download had finished. “She has been extremely busy, has she not?” he finally asked.
“Yes, Sire,” Glenney replied, visibly relieved that the Emperor had regained his strength. “Unfortunately we have been unable to determine the exact nature of her discussion with the Ambassador, or her motives in meeting with him, any more than we know why she chose to call on Dr. Montgarde a few hours ago.”
The Emperor smiled and raised an eyebrow to the security agent. “The first should not be too difficult to guess: She is obviously looking for an alliance of some type between her House and the Sarpan, although to what end we can only guess—I trust that you will make finding the answer to that question another of your priorities. However, I agree with you that her motives for calling on the Doctor, at present, are unclear.”
“I’m certain we could find out more by having her detained,” Glenney suggested. “For a civilian, even one with a House as high-ranking as hers, to directly meet with an official representative of the Sarpan without the advance knowledge of the Court—”
“It is unnecessary to quote Imperial law to me,” the Emperor snapped. Reaching up, he rubbed his temples with thin, fragile fingertips but made no attempt to apologize before continuing. “Do not detain her. Instead, keep her under a closer watch until you have a better idea as to her motives.” He received an urgent, silent query from Brendan and immediately regretted letting the stress of the last several days get the better of him. He exhaled in a wheezing sigh and, even as the medical systems built into his chair started working at a higher rate, gave a silent command to admit his aide.
The door slid open, and the young medical technician walked briskly into the room, although he carefully avoided allowing his features to show anything that might signify undue alarm on his part for the Emperor’s condition. Putting duty to the Emperor first, he addressed the aging ruler directly, completely oblivious to the fact that the security man who had jumped instantly to his feet upon his entrance was only now relaxing his defensive posture.
“Sire, your readings are at levels that cannot safely be sustained.” He knelt at the Emperor’s side and examined the readouts of the chair itself to confirm the information he’d obviously received moments earlier from his implants. Rising, he added respectfully, but firmly, “I must insist that this meeting be concluded or postponed.”
The Emperor studied Brendan for a moment and determined that his concern was sincere, but that he was no longer overly worried—a quick check with the computer showed that the young man had mentally canceled the medical emergency code that had brought him to his private study in the first place.
He took another deep breath, then another, and began to feel his strength slowly returning as the efforts of the powerchair’s systems became effective. “Perhaps you’re right,” the Emperor admitted. I am so tired.
“I’ll wait in the anteroom.” Brendan stepped politely back, reserving any further medical discussion until the Emperor had dismissed his guest, and left the room.