In two centuries, the colonized planets numbered seven hundred, many of them having large populations. As improvements were made in the subether drive, interstellar commerce and communication increased exponentially. And, as usually follows such a trend, interstellar crime increased as well. The colonies still held a sentimental attachment for their mother planet; in fact,
Earth had been acting as an unacknowledged imperium for years. After the Koslov and the short-lived Gomez dynasties died out, the
Stanleys ascended the throne, providing Earth with strong and able kings. Finally, in 2225, King Stanley the Sixth of Earth decided to claim in title what was already his in fact, and crowned himself Emperor
Stanley One of the Empire of Earth.
(Stanhope, Elements of Empire, Reel 2, slot 39.)
With no need to hurry, now, the d’Alemberts drove their car back to Tampeta via surface highways at a leisurely one hundred kilometers an hour. For a long time, both were silent; the import of what the Head had told them had had a very sobering effect, and the responsibility he’d placed on their shoulders was weighty. The fact that, in their first major assignment, the fate of the Galaxy was at stake frightened them.
Finally, to break the silence, Jules said, ‘I knew the Head would have to be a high muckamuck, but I never guessed how high. If his unmarried daughter’s a duchess, he can’t be anything less than a grand duke. I think maybe I’ve seen his picture somewhere, or seen him in a parade of something on tri-dee ...’
‘Oh, brother!’Yvette snorted. ‘And I use the term advisedly. You’re the thousand pointer, how come you didn’t recognize Grand Duke Zander von Wilmenhorst on sight? Oh no, he isn’t much of anybody- just one-half Stanley blood and fifth in line for the Throne itself, is all. You’d better break out your Peerage and start studying it.’
Jules banged the side of his head with his palm as though to clear it. ‘I must be dense today. But what a cover for the Head of the Service! He owns Sector Four!’
‘If you play your cards right, you could own it next’ Yvette’s voice was dipped in sarcasm. ‘I saw the way that girl Helena was ogling you. All you’d have to do is marry her and you’ll be in line to be a grand duke yourself.’
Jules blushed hotly. ‘I did nothing to encourage her. And besides, I’m already engaged.’
‘I know that and you know that, but someone neglected to tell Helena.’
Jules let the subject drop there and drove along in silence. They arrived back at the Circus shortly after sunup. Even now there was some activity - a big show like the Circus of the Galaxy never sleeps - but they knew that their father would not be awake until later in the day; and besides, they themselves were exhausted. They had lived through more excitement in the past twelve hours than even the superhuman body was built to withstand. So, instead of reporting in immediately, they grabbed a quick snack at the commissary, then went to their quarters and slept for ten consecutive hours. Then, relaxed and refreshed, they went to visit their father.
The Duke sat impassively as they related their adventures with the ambush in the Dunedin Arms and their first meeting with the Head. He scowled when he heard about the traitor who had wormed his way so high up in the Service echelon. When they had finished telling about the chase, a silence followed. ‘Well,’ the Duke asked, ‘what’s your assignment about?’
The two younger people fidgeted and looked at one another. The Head had told them that most of the briefing was off the record and, even though he hadn’t given them explicit instructions about secrecy, he’d no doubt assumed that they would use their discretion. Even though their father was a duke and a top SOTS agent himself, he had no real need-to-know. The fewer people who had knowledge of their mission, the safer they would be.
The Duke saw their hesitation and laughed. ‘Can’t even tell your poorpapa, eh? Don’t be embarrassed about it. I’ve known so many secrets in my life that knowing one less certainly won’t kill me. I’m very proud of you both today, mes enfants. An assignment this crucial means you are finally ready to take your place in the universe, a place that’s awaited you since birth. I may worry a little about your safety, at times, but not too much. You know what you’re doing- last night proved that. I’ve taught you all I know; now’s the chance for you to use it.
‘But,’ he continued sadly, folding his hands in his lap, ‘this of course means that you will have to leave the Circus, your home for nearly thirty years.’
‘I know,’ Yvette said softly. ‘That’s the thing we’ve dreaded most.’
‘It’s one thing to face danger,’ Jules agreed, ‘andquite another to leave such good family and friends behind.’
‘It is necessary,’ their father shrugged. ‘All growth requires changes and sacrifices of something, I suppose. Fortunately, the break need not be total or permanent; you will be cherished, but not missed.’ He stopped, and looked up at them. ‘Alors, what are you waiting for? Get out of my office before I start to cry and ruin my whole day.’
Yvette came over to him, kissed him on the cheek and whispered, ‘Mon bon papa,’ in his ear. Then the two top agents in the entire Galaxy walked out of the office.
They did not leave the Circus just yet, though. By unspoken agreement they stayed around until the evening performance, where they melted into the crowd of Earthers who jammed the arena to see the show. As part of the audience they watched, with trained and minutely observant eyes, as Yvette and Jules d’Alembert flawlessly performed a heart-stopping variation of the act they themselves had performed only the night before. Then, with the performance over, they went down to the commissary to congratulate their younger ‘selves’.
The new Jules and Yvette, still in their spangled outfits, sat down boisterously at the table with the older pair. The two men looked very much alike, as did the two women - unsurprising, in view of the fact that they were chosen, among other things, for their appearance. The younger models were their cousins, twin children of Marcel d’Alembert, the Duke’s younger brother. They were ten years junior to the older pair, but only a DesPlainian could have spotted the age differences. As for the minute differences in facial appearance, few people outside the Circus would know. Jules and Yvette d’Alembert were never photo graphed close-up, and never appeared on tri-dee or sensables. All the audience ever saw of them was their flashing forms flying through the air, performing seemingly impossible acrobatics. Only now, those flying forms would be unnoticeably different.
This succession of top stars was routine to the personnel of the Circus of the Galaxy. In the two-hundred- year history of the Circus, there had been more than a score of pairs called ‘Jules and Yvette d’Alembert’; and, as long as the d’Alembert clan and the Circus held out, there would continue to be a new pair every decade. The pair now retiring had gotten their own start when their predecessors died on a mission for SOTE twelve years ago, and hence began their careers prematurely. The new pair would have a quiet and unexciting changeover.
‘How’d we do, Grand pere?’ asked the younger Jules. This was his first public performance in the starring role, and the thrill of the applause was still racing through his bloodstream. ‘It must have been a treat to see a good performance of your act.’
‘Close the orifice, Jules,’ his partner broke in. ‘Oh, you’re calling me “Jules” already, then?’
‘Certainly,’ said the younger Yvette. ‘You are Jules, now, while he goes on to be a nameless shadow serving the Empire. But what I started to say was, that’s the way people break their arms, patting themselves on the back so much.’
‘Khorosho.What I meant was, I’m glad the Head pulled them out of the Circus for special duty. It wouldn’t be too long before they’d splattered themselves all over the ring, the way their joints are creaking now. How about that, Jules?’ and Jules II grinned at Jules I.
‘That is true and very sad, Jules,’ Jules I agreed as a waitress came up to take their orders. ‘Yvette and I got this cushy assignment just in time. The ancient and unwieldy bones are just about ready for the fertilizer mill. The old-time pep is all shot ...’
‘Dear Jules, you’re breaking my heart,’ said the waitress, dripping with sarcasm. She, of course, was a d’Alembert, too, and had been one of the supporting aerialists twenty five years ago, when Duke Etienne had been a performer with the Circus. Even when the talent to perform was gone, the d’Alembert clan never let any of its members want for employment. ‘Stop crying before I lose all control and dilute your soup with a flood of my own tears. The King and Queen are dead, et cetera. So what? You’re just getting started on your real jobs. The usual?’
‘Not quite, Yvette,’ I said. ‘You can get fresh orange juice here and I’m drowning myself in it. Squeeze me half a liter please, Felice dear, besides the usual.’
“’Drowning yourself” is right,’ the younger Yvette said darkly. ‘I’ve got to watch my figure; I’ll settle for one small glass of lemon sour and a lamb chop.’
‘That’s the thing about performing,’ said the older Jules. ‘Appearance is ev erything. Now that we’re “retired”, Yvette and I can eat to please ourselves.’ Yet his actions belied his words as he ordered a very modest meal. All the d’Alemberts were extremely conscious of the health value of their food.
After eating their late night snack, the older Jules and Yvette bid farewell to their family and left the Circus - without leaving so much as a ripple to let the outside world know they’d gone.
Driving eastward across the darkened highways for several hours, the pair arrived at the Cape Canaveral Spaceport, the interstellar terminal that serviced the southeastern portion of the North American continent. The journey was uneventful, and at last they arrived at the field. They snugged their car down into its berth in the belly of their own ultra-fast, two-person subspacer, La Comete Cuivre - The Copper Comet. This vessel, a sleek dart built for speed and power, had been a gift to them from their father two years earlier, in anticipation of the day they’d become full fledged agents and need transportation of their own. Its burnished form was indeed a spectacle in daylight, gleaming under the bright Florida morning sun.
They spent the next two days living aboard their ship as it sat on the ground. They studied, analyzed and reviewed forty-seven reels of top-secret data, then sent them - through the most devious of routes, back to the Head. They drew charts based on the information they’d read, made statistical analyses, tried to find patterns in the confusing and conflicting facts that would point them in the right direction.
With that accomplished, and some tentative hypotheses reached, they consulted with the Head again. Headway was being made but slowly in weeding out potential traitors to the Service, for the simple reason that they couldn’t let the people know they were being weeded. A spy you know can be an asset, as long as his side doesn’t know he’s been spotted. So far, three potential traitors out of the thousands of people working for SOTE on Earth - had been uncovered and were being watched. But there were other signs that all was not well within the Empire.
Crime was flourishing on the Mother Planet. True, a certain amount was to be expected on a world with a population of nine billion, but the situation was much worse than should be anticipated. Criminals were much better organized here, and their hold on the populace was far too tenacious for chance. While the Service was not responsible for dealing with ordinary crime per se, it maintained files on what was going on - and the reports that were filtering up to the Head’s office were deliberately vague and misleading. It was as though someone, at some level, were trying to cover up the true extent of the problem. Estimates of harmful effects were almost unanimously understated, as though to lull the upper echelon into a false sense of security. Until now, those tactics had worked all too well.
To Jules and Yvette d’Alembert, the situation shrieked for action- and instant, effective action at that. If the Service caught a chill, hundreds of outlying planets faced the threat of double pneumonia. For the Service was the central nervous system of the Stanleys themselves - it received and relayed information from the outer systems to the ‘brain’; helped with the formulation official policy; and then set in motion the muscles that would deal with any particular problem. When those nerves tingled, every star, every spacelane, every planet and pocket of cosmic dust trembled and shook.
As the evidence of internal corruption mounted, it became clear that there were two courses of action. They could search patiently and painstakingly, sift through mountains of data, study the results and hope for a break - or they could plunge themselves into a trouble spot, offer themselves as bait, risk life and limb on a gamble, and trust to mind and muscle to get them out. These were the choices they had to confront ...
But really, there was no choice - because they were d’Alemberts.
‘Durward looks to be a hard nut to crack,’ Jules surmisedas the pair were discussing strategy aboard La Comete. ‘Too many agents have been killed there already, to absolutely no gain.’
‘I agree,’ Yvette nodded. ‘Some rather peculiar things are going on there, and I think we might be better off if we do some background work first. We can always tackle Durward if we need to, but we’ll have our feet firmly planted in facts before we do.’
‘Outside of Durward itself, then, I can see only three profitable points of attack: Algonia, Nevander, and Aston. Three forged Patents of Royalty, years apart. Three planets that have - coincidentally? - gained the most notorious reputations for crime and corruption.’
‘And,’ Yvette reminded him significantly, ‘fifty one agents have died on those three planets alone while investigating this affair.’
Jules wet his lips and spoke more quietly. ‘Yes, I know. Most of them were probably as smart and as skilled as we are, yet their lives went down the tubes despite all the help the local SOTE could give them...’ He paused.
‘Uh huh. Go on. Or because of it.’
‘Au juste. The higher the SOTE, the tighter the security. At least in theory. But that treason in the Head’s own office smelled like Pessence de la mouffette, if you ask me.’
Yvette wrinkled her nose at just the thought of skunk perfume. ‘I still wish we could have taken him alive. A good stiff shot of nitrobarb would have answered a lot of interesting questions.’
‘So we have to find out the answers on our own. I think, for the time being, we should stay away from all SOTE contacts, except maybe for the top dog at each place. The question before the house now is, what’s our best cover?’
‘We’ll be looked at closely, that’s for sure,’ Yvette mused, ‘so we’d better pick something in keeping with our splendid physiques.’ She looked down at her own solidly packed form. ‘We can’t be Earthers, not to stand inspection. Nor Delfians, more’s the pity; I rather liked the cloaks and the secrecy.’
‘We’re too obviously the products of a high grav planet,’ Jules agreed. ‘And there haven’t been too many of those settled.’
‘There’s Purity, over in ... where? Sector Thirty three, I think.’
Jules frowned in thought. ‘It’s an idea, yes. That splinter group of crackpots on Purity. We can be Puritans.’
‘But would it work?’ Yvette nibbled nervously at her lip. ‘They refuse to have anything to do with anybody unless there’s no way to avoid it. The rest of humanity’s too sinful for them. They expect everyone else, especially mother planet DesPlaines, to be whiffed into incandescent vapor any second by the wrath of God. There are a lot of renegade Puritans, though - sinners who couldn’t stand the “righteous” life.’
‘That’s what I meant. Our story will be that they kicked us out because we became too sinful. We liked to dance and play cards and drink soda pop - to say nothing of mining gold and platinum and diamonds and emeralds and bootlegging all our stuff to Earth for crass remuneration in the world of the flesh. That’s how we made all our money, remember?’
Yvette laughed. ‘Just dimly. I must have been looking the other way at the time, but you can fill me in. They have kicked a lot of people off Purity for doing just that - and for even smaller sins, as well. Go ahead, it’s sounding better all the time.’
Jules paced back and forth in the small forward cabin. ‘Khorosho, how about this? We’ll get ID papers declaring us ex -Puritan Citizens of Earth - the Head can arrange that. You know how toplofty and you-be- damned Earthers are when they go out to visit “the colonies”.’
‘And we’ll be toploftier and you-be-damneder than anybody,’ Yvette grinned wickedly. ‘I like it.’
‘Concealment by conspicuousness,’ her brother nodded. ‘But, as we know, not too many people are aware that Purity is high-grav. We’ll still have to disguise our builds somewhat, particularly yours. There’s lots of short, stocky men around, but you would look a trifle anomalous any where but a high-grav world.’
‘Then we do it the same way,’ Yvette said. ‘Obviousness. We’ll flaunt ourselves at them and dare them to comment.’
‘Absolutely
.’ Jules stared at himself in some imaginary mirror, trying to concoct his disguise. ‘Bare arms and bare legs- let them see the muscles, who cares? What do you think about hair down to my shoulders, gilded and curled to a fare-thee-well? And a handlebar mustache, waxed to points and also gilded. Cloth-of-gold sleeveless jersey with a neckline open to the belt. Tight shorts - blue?’
Yvette shook her head. ‘Too common. Purple.’
‘Yes, purple, the color of royalty. That’ll be the motif, purple and gold. Gold boots up to mid-thigh, and my entire body glistening with gold and amethyst jewelry, a million rubles worth. People will have to close their eyes when I walk into a room.’
‘They do anyhow.’
‘Quiet, I’m still thinking. I need something to hold and wave about in the air and in people’s faces. A swagger stick, I think, a big heavy one that’s got a blaster at one end and a stunner at the other. What do you think?’
Yvette considered the ensemble. ‘Your head’s bare.’
‘So it is. I need a hat- a big floppy purple one with a ten centimeter wide brim and gold plumes half a meter long. And voila - the complete ensemble for the well-dressed secret agent.’
‘I have to admit, no one would ever suspect you of being a SOTE operative in that get-up. You’d even have difficulty passing as a rational human being. I could walk right alongside you wearing a .Service badge and no one would notice.’
‘Uh, I wouldn’t recommend it...’
Yvette laughed. ‘I have no intention of it, believe me. But if you think I’m going to play little brown hen opposite that gorgeous hunk of rooster, you’ve soaked your cerebrum. I’ll design me a costume- no, since we’ll be on this for a while we’d both better have complete wardrobes that’ll knock everybody’s eyes right out of their sockets. In what I’ll drape my body with, no DesPlainian woman would be caught dead at a catfight.’
‘That’s my loving sister!’
‘It’ll be fun. But growing your hair to shoulder length will take months, maybe a year or more. A wig?’
‘Uh hu,’ Jules said, shaking his head. ‘Too chancy. Wigs can be spotted and someone could wonder why we’re doing the phony bit. I was thinking of having a growth implant done. It’ll take about two months, but we’ve got the time. SOTT’s been working on this case for sixty seven years, and Banion - or whoever else is behind this plot - seems in absolutely no hurry to push things along. Why should he - he knows everything about us and we know nothing about him. I don’t think a couple of extra months will mean the difference between success and failure. And it’s not as if we’ll be twiddling our toes in the meantime.’
‘Right. We can go over the data a couple more times, plan our approach, smooth out our act- and I’ve got my entire wardrobe to plan. Alors, let’s fly at it.’
Thus it came about that, seven weeks later, the Executive Offices of the Duke of Algonia were invaded by a couple whose likes had never been seen on the planet Algonia - or, for that matter, on any other planet. They arrived in style aboard the poshest spaceliner flying, the Empress Stanley III. Both Jules and Yvette were disappointed not to be able to use La Comete on this mission, but they’d agreed that public transportation would be much more in keeping with their disguise.
Jules’ costume was as spectacular as he’d described, and he’d developed a persona to match it. His every movement was an exaggeration; he could not seem to stand still, and even the slightest motion was embellished with wild gesticulations. His voice, when he spoke, was loud and brash, grating on the nerves of all who heard him. His tone was the epitome of supercilious snobbery. Although physically short, he was unquestionably a man who could not do things in a small way.
Yvette was, if anything, even more resplendent. She had chosen to match his color scheme of purple and gold in what little she wore, but the arrangement of the colors was the exact reverse of his. Her footwear - calf-high leather boots encrusted with amethysts and diamonds - was royal purple, sparkling and flashing as she walked. Her tight shorts - very tight and very short, were gold lame. Her midriff was bare, and her breasts were supported by a shamefully thin and transparent purple silk scarf that tied behind her neck.
Her belt was wide - gold backed with carlon, and heavily jeweled. A jeweled half-veil of fine gold mesh highlighted rather than hid her face. And, to cap the delectable package, her hair - which was the same rich purple as her boots and scarf - sported a tiara that would have dazzled the Empress herself, so overloaded as it with gold filigree, diamonds and amethysts. The tiara alone had been appraised conservatively at - and insured for - one million, three hundred ninety thousand rubles; yet Yvette wore it as casually as a sun-bonnet.
Ignoring the stares of the people waiting in the long line and the sidelong glances of the office workers, the outrageous pair walked briskly up to the front desk. ‘We are Citizens of Earth,’ Jules proclaimed loudly to the startled receptionist as he courteously but firmly edged his way into the narrow space between a fat woman and the desk. The clerk was too stunned by the appearance of these apparitions to move; Jules took advantage of her indecision to lean over, pick up her hand and tuck a hundred-ruble bill neatly into it. ‘Carlos a nd Carmen Velasquez, Citizens of Earth,’ he repeated even more loudly, dropping two ID cards onto her desktop. ‘You sure do have a nice planet here, yes, ma’am.
‘Course, all we saw of it was on the way from the spaceport to here, but I’m a man of quick opinions. I know what I like when I see it, and I like this here Algonia, yes, ma’am. Your duke wouldn’t be thinking of selling it, would he?’
The poor receptionist’s jaw dropped open.
“Course not,’ Jules laughed, giving her a broad wink. ‘Dukes don’t go a round selling their planets; I was just funning you. Still, this is a nice place, and my wife and me’ll be happy to stay here for a while.’
Yvette, who had chosen so far to stand beside her brother silently with her nose in the air, now deigned to speak. ‘This is the office where newcomers apply for sixty day visas, is it not?’
The flustered clerk’s face brightened as the conversation finally reached a level she could comprehend. ‘Oh no, ma’am ... sir. That would be Gospodin Rixton’s office downstairs the SOTE, ma’am ... sir.’ She seemed quite relieved to be able to shoo this duo out of her jurisdiction.
‘What seems to be the trouble here?’ A tall blond man with a pencil thin mustache oozed his way across the floor to stand beside them. ‘Problems, Gospozha Chen?’ The girl turned to him, a ‘thank you’ lighting up her face. ‘Gospodin Rixton, these two people ...’
‘Citizens of Earth,’ Jules interrupted. ‘They’d like to apply for a sixty day visa.’
‘I’ll handle it, then.’ He put an overly friendly arm on Jules’ shoulder and steered him out of the line. ‘My name is Alf Rixton, and I’m the first assistant of SOTE here on Algonia ...’
‘Delighted to meet you,’ Jules said loudly, pumping the man’s hand. ‘We’re Carlos and Carmen Velasquez, Citizens of Earth. We’d like to stay a couple of months on this wonderful planet of yours.’ He reached into his pocket and produced another hundred-ruble bill. ‘I trust you can arrange it for us. We’ll be staying at the Hotel Splendide.’ He stuffed the bill very blatantly into the SOTE man’s hand, then he and Yvette marched out of the room.
To their inner disgust, Rixton made no attempt to return the bribe.