Headquarters coordinating the security precautions with the young Lord Bloodstar. He

left his daughter and Girl Friday, Helena, to mind the more routine business back at the

office.

 

It was late at night in Florida, where SOTE Headquarters was hidden, and Helena von

Wilmenhorst was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Since her father had gone to

Angeles diego she'd been averaging only four hours of sleep a night after coordinating his

needs with the normal press of Service business. No matter how important the

Coronation was, there was still an Empire to be run-an Empire that was rapidly

approaching fourteen hundred planets in scope. As one of the people with primary

responsibility for the safety of that Empire, Helena had little private life for her own

satisfaction.

 

The words in the daily reports were running into one another in a jumble of jabberwocky.

After reading over the same sentence in a manpower requisition for the sixth straight

time without comprehending it, she had just about decided to quit for the day. Then the

d'Alemberts' report came in-and suddenly, Helena had never been more wide awake in

her life.

 

It was not just the fact that the report was a long-awaited . one from two of the top

agents in SOTE's retinue; Helena and her father routinely gave d'Alembert reports top

consideration anyway. What really made Helena sit upright in her chair was the coding:

Class 10 Priority. In all the history of the Service there had been exactly six Class 10's

prior to this one. It was an acknowledgment of dire peril to the Empire, an armed attack

or revolution either in progress or imminent. Class 10 commanded instant attention at any

hour of the day or night. Within seconds of being notified, Helena had the images of Jules

and Yvonne on her screen. She noted with some annoyance that they were not on a

scrambler circuit, but knowing the d'Alemberts as well as she did she realized there had

to be a good reason for it. Without wasting time on trivial formalities like greetings, she

said simply, "Father's at Bloodstar. Let me have it."

 

Of necessity, Jules's report came in with painful slowness. Lady A's ship was not

equipped with a Service scrambler, and he was not about to broadcast such vital

information over open ether without some protection. He had to reword everything he

wanted to say into one of SOTE's verbal codes, a complex process even under the best

of conditions. He had a lot to tell her, too, and he wanted to make sure that every word

of it was transmitted correctly. They could not afford any errors at this stage of the

game.

 

Helena took down all the information with a growing feeling of urgency, double-checking

the most salient points to make sure she'd understood correctly. The story of impending

revolution that Jules was relating was grim indeed, and bound to put a serious strain on

the Empire's resources.

 

She listened for more than an hour as Jules worked his way through the facts. When he

was finally finished, she nodded and told him she would pass it right along to the

appropriate people. Jules told her that he and Vonnie would rip a seam through

subspace and get back to Earth in three days to give a fuller report in person. Then the

connection was broken and the screen went blank.

 

Helena instantly put through a call to her father. She did not use the phrase "Class 10

Priority," not wanting to cause panic throughout Angeles-Diego; but the codeword she

used to get through was a personal reference between father and daughter that

conveyed roughly the same urgency. Zander von Wilmenhorst was on the line instantly,

concern evident on his face.

 

Since this call was going through double scramblers, Helena did not have to waste time

encoding what she said, and she conveyed the information in less than half an hour. The

Head did not interrupt his daughter once during her recitation; his superb mind was too

busy assimilating data, correlating it with other reports and planning alternate tactics.

When she finished, he had only one question: "I know the source, but I still have to ask-is

this information one hundred percent accurate?" "I double-checked that myself," Helena

confirmed. "It was obtained under nitrobarb."

 

The Head nodded. "Good. We may have to commit the disposition of Imperial forces on

the basis of this, and we can't take any chances. And put Metzenbach in charge of the

office; I want you out here with me by first light tomorrow. We've got work to do."

 

As soon as he'd ended his conversation with his daughter, the Head was on his way to

the palace in Los Angeles where the Imperial family had taken up residence to prepare

for the ceremony to come. He would not go into details over the vidphone, but he

managed to convey the urgency of his mission. When he arrived at the palace, he was

escorted quickly to a small planning chamber that was completely bugproof.

 

The three other people he'd asked for were already there: Emperor William Stanley, a

distinguished man with graying hair, seventy years old with all the experience such an

age implies; his daughter, Crown Princess Edna, twenty-five years old but already

experienced at wearing the mantle of Imperial responsibility; the Lord Admiral Cesare

Benevenuto, the Empire's top military tactician. On these four people, then, the fate of

the Galaxy would hinge.

 

"The conspiracy is ready to make its move," von Wilmenhorst said as preface, then

explained the situation as the d'Alemberts had discovered it. The other three listened,

their faces getting longer as their predicament grew clearer.

 

There was a pause after he finished his briefing. It was, by courtesy, the Emperor's right

to comment first on the information. William Stanley considered what he'd heard. and

finally spoke.

 

"Even though this information was obtained under nitrobarb," he said, "and was obviously

true when it was spoken, it may already be outdated. This mysterious C must know by

now that his chief lieutenant has been interrogated, and therefore that there is some

chance his plans have been compromised. Couldn't he decide to postpone the entire

attack until he can again be sure of surprise?"

 

"Possible," said Admiral Benevenuto, "but unlikely. A military operation of this scale isn't

like a light switch that can be turned on and off at will. Orders must be given, fighting

forces mobilized, supplies transported to the proper places. Ships must rendezvous

properly, personnel must be brought to the proper fighting pitch-it's an emotional problem

as well as a logistical one. From what we've heard, the operation was already canceled

once, at the time of the Princess's wedding. To do so again would be most costly in

terms of money, manpower and morale. If it were my battle, I'd rather sacrifice the

element of surprise than lose all my preparations. C does, after all, have a respectably

sized fleet on his side, one which is ready for battle while our own forces are scattered

all over the Empire. There is no way we can call in our entire fleet in time to counter a

concentrated attack on Earth just a few days from now."

 

"But he may change his plans somewhat in view of the fact that we now know what he's

going to do," Edna said.

 

"He can't be sure we know," the Head spoke up. "Unless he's tapped into our most

secure private lines, he can't know how much information we got from Lady A before the

interrogation was interrupted. Even if she survives the drug, she won't remember what

she said or didn't say. I have a feeling he's going to be watching our movements most

carefully in the next few days to find out exactly how much we know and how much we

don't. How we react will, to some extent, affect his plans-though I agree with Cesare, I

don't think he'd call off the attack completely just because we're expecting it."

 

The Emperor drummed his fingers nervously on the arm of his chair. "Then we must

consider carefully what we do. What alternatives are open to us'?"

 

"I would be remiss in my duty to protect the lives of the Imperial family," said the Head,

"if I didn't suggest postponing the Coronation until this affair is over."

 

"Never!" Edna's voice echoed decisively in the small room. "I don't mean to sound

grabby, Father, but I don't think we should let a pack of hooligans decide when Imperial

business may be carried out. It's bad enough that they ruined my wedding; if we let them

succeed now, then every official function becomes susceptible to their blackmail. I say

we continue with the Coronation even if civil war is raging and the Empire is coming down

around our ears."

 

William Stanley beamed proudly and looked at the other two men. "You just heard your

Empress's pleasure-and mine too, I might add. Any plans we make must take into

account the fact that the Coronation will proceed as planned." "Khorosho," the Head

nodded. "I only proposed that because it was my duty to consider it. I wasn't in favor of it

either. If we canceled, it would let C know definitely that we're aware of his plans;

continuing as scheduled can only increase his doubt and confusion-which is all to our

good. Tell me, Admiral, can our regular defensive fleet stationed in the solar system

cope with an armada like theirs?"

 

"One thousand small ships and a few of the larger class?" Benevenuto was thoughtful.

"No, not entirely, I'm sorry to say. We could handle their big ships well enough, but some

of the smaller ones are bound to slip through our nets and cause damage. I would have

to call in reinforcements from some of our nearer bases to handle the threat fully."

 

"I thought as much," the Head nodded. "And that's exactly what C will be watching for. It

would prove to him that we know his plans."

 

"I'd prefer to do that than leave Earth inadequately protected," Benevenuto harrumphed.'

 

"Forgive me; intelligence work sometimes gets so Machiavellian that I fail to fully explain

my thoughts. I'm talking about a feint. C will be watching our nearby bases closely,

knowing that only ships from there could be moved here in time to reinforce Earth's

defenses. He might not be paying that much attention to some of our more distant

bases."

 

"But what good are they," Edna asked, "if they can't reach Earth in time to defend us?"

 

"Lady A said that all the enemy ships would be rendezvousing at a given spot. If we were

to launch an attack against them there, before they've had a chance to get fully

organized, we could wreck their plans before they start and scatter their fleet to the eight

corners of the Galaxy."

 

"That plan has some merit," Benevenuto agreed. "But isn't C likely to at least change the

rendezvous spot if he thinks his plans have been compromised?"

 

"It is a possibility, yes," the Head admitted. "Though that spot was probably chosen for

its centralized location; he would have to do a lot of emergency communication to make

sure all his divisions were informed of any change. Still, space is big and he could find

plenty of other secret places to meet.

 

"But even if he does change the meeting spot and our ships find nothing there, we can

give them secondary orders to proceed immediately to Earth. They should arrive about

the same time as C's ships, presenting him with a stronger force than he counted on

facing. We wouldn't have much time to coordinate battle tactics between the home fleet

and the reinforcements, but we'd have the numbers and the surprise on our side, for a

change."

 

Benevenuto was wavering. "I'm not sure," he said. "I much prefer straight military might

to the convoluted maneuvers of the intelligence branch. It may be stodgy, but it would

ensure an adequate defense of Earth."

 

"If we pulled in ships from nearby bases, thus alerting C to the fact we know his plans,"

the Head argued, "he might decide to go after secondary targets-such as the systems

we take our reinforcements from. None of them will be able to withstand C's fleet in their

weakened condition. We could end up sacrificing a much larger chunk of our territory

than we'd like. I say we lure C into the solar system by pretending not to know his plans,

then clobber him. It's a little riskier, but it gives us the chance to break up his fleet in one

decisive battle."

 

"I'd have to run it through our computers to calculate the odds for and against the various

alternatives," the admiral said. William Stanley stood up. "You do that, Cesare, but do it

quickly. Personally, I think Zander has handed us a well thought out plan, and I'd like to

see it implemented. In any case, I want you in my office with a completed scheme by

nine A.M. tomorrow. I want to make sure there's an Empire left to hand over to my

daughter on Friday."

 

Chapter 15

A Change of Plans

 

Pias Bavol did not panic when his scheme to work his way into Admiral Shen's

organization failed so miserably. He was a man who believed in utilizing all his resources

to their best advantage-and one of the best resources he had was his own mind.

 

Yvette and Fortier were two other resources in his favor, but he could not use them just

now. Neither had been with him in Shen's office, and neither knew the trouble he now

faced. As far as they were both aware, everything was proceeding according to

schedule. He would have to extricate himself from this mess on his own.

 

There were three pirates escorting him, each with blaster drawn and aimed directly at his

back. He could not simply run away, and even his high-gee reflexes were not quick

enough to disarm three men before they had a chance to fire at him. There had to be

some way, though, of narrowing the numbers a bit. All it took was the right set of

circumstances.

 

He began whistling and walking at a pace much too jaunty for someone under sentence

of imminent death. "Come back here," said the leading pirate behind him. "Where do you

think you're running to?"

 

"I'm not running," Pias answered, slowing his pace just a trifle. "Shen said he wanted you

to take me up to the surface. I was going to the elevator tube."

 

"If you don't wait for us, we'll shoot you right here in the hall. I'd think you'd want to take

your time. What are you so happy about?"

 

"Did I say I was happy?" Pias asked. "Just because I refuse to get depressed by the

thought of my own death doesn't mean I'm looking forward to it. I've lived a pretty

fascinating life, but it had to come to an end sometime, I suppose. Hey, have you guys

ever heard of the women of Tartarus?"

 

All of them had, of course; the courtesans and the fleshpots of that world were legendary

throughout space. Pias began weaving the men a fabricated history of his own

adventures there, including a detailed account of his night spent with three of the fabled

ladies at once. The pirates were practically drooling as Pias graphically described the

exotic events of that fabulous evening. By the time the party arrived at the elevator tube

the guards were so engrossed in Pias's story that they were less than careful about the

way they were guarding him.

 

As Pias had remembered, the elevator tubes were small ones, holding only two people

at a time; since the pirates' ships were in underground silos that could be entered from

the base, they had little cause to go to the surface in large numbers. One way or

another, the group would have to split up momentarily, and Pias would find himself alone

with only one pirate guarding him.

 

So entertaining had his story been that the men did not consider him a serious threat.

They decided that two of them would go up first, training their guns on the entrance so

that Pias didn't dare make a break the instant he emerged from the tube. As the first two

disappeared up the tube, the third man stayed far enough away that Pias couldn't jump

him before he could fire his blaster. Pias waited patiently, seemingly unconcerned about

the situation he was in.

 

When the light came on indicating the tube was ready for them, the pirate motioned Pias

to get in and then stepped in behind him. They were now, of necessity, in the confined

quarters that Pias wanted. He waited for just the proper moment, and then acted.

 

There was a jolt as the plate they were on began its rise up the tube. It was a mild

movement, but it was enough to joggle the pirate's gun hand. That was all the help Pias

needed. He brought his own hand up quickly to deflect the other man's weapon. The

blaster went off, but its bolt was spent harmlessly against the wall of the tube, and he

never got a chance for a second shot. Pias's elbow shot up, catching the man with a

vicious blow to the windpipe that rendered him instantly unconscious. The blaster

dropped from his hand and Pias, with his high-gee reflexes, picked it out of the air and

gripped it securely. He turned facing the door, prepared to blast the other two pirates the

instant he reached the surface.

 

It was quite fortunate for him that his reflexes were so fast, for the two people he faced

were not the pirates who had gone up the tube before him, but his own wife and

Commander Fortier. Had he fired point blank, he might well have killed the only two allies

he had on the entire planet-but, when he saw who they were, he was able to hold his fire

in time.

 

Yvette saw her husband armed and ready for a fight, and smiled. "We came to rescue

you," she said, indicating the two guards who lay unconscious on the ground before her,

"but I guess you beat us to it."

 

"We have a saying on Newforest which translates roughly, 'The hangman loves a person

who's expecting a reprieve.' I wasn't going to my execution quite that docilely."

 

Yvette clucked mockingly. "And how many times have you told me to be patient and have

faith in you?"

 

"Faith is all very well," Pias said, holding up the weapon in his right hand, "but give me a

blaster any time."

 

Fortier saw his chance here to break into the conversation. "It's a lucky thing for you I

planted a bug in Shen's office, or we wouldn't have known you were in trouble and been

able to head it off."

 

Pias dropped his gaze for a moment. "I really miscalculated this time, I guess."

 

"That doesn't matter now, anyway," Fortier said. "There's been a change in plans. I just

received a subcom call from Headquarters back at Luna Base. They know when the

attack is going to take place, and they've issued us a new set of orders."

 

Fortier explained that somehow the high command had learned that the enemy fleet

would be making its rendezvous at a particular spot in just a couple of days. Fortier and

at least one of the SOTE agents were to go on ahead and wait there, while the Navy

kept its own ships just a short distance away, out of detection range. The instant the

pirate fleet showed up, the scout ship would call the Navy, who would then sweep in and

destroy the enemy before it had a chance to attack Earth.

 

"You're the logical choice to come with me," Fortier told Pias as he concluded his

explanation. "You're dead if you're seen on this world any more."

 

"What about her?" Pias asked, pointing at Yvette. "Doesn't she come, too''"

 

"Someone has to stay with Shen in case he tries something unexpected," Yvette said,

shaking her head. "The commander was the logical choice for that, except for one

thing-he's the only one among us who can pilot a ship. Therefore he has to go. It's a

shame to blow the cover identity he's worked so hard to build, but there's no other

choice. The same goes for you. I at least still have a chance here-Shen may still think I'm

useful to him. That's why I'm staying."

 

Both husband and wife knew how slender a thread of hope that was. Shen was

unpredictable, and could order Yvette killed tomorrow for some reason real or imagined.

Pias hated the thought of leaving his beloved spouse to such an uncertain fate, but he

knew she was right-if someone had to stay behind, she was the only choice. And both

had long ago resigned themselves to death if they should make any mistakes in their job.

It was not a pleasant alternative, but it was a necessary one.

 

Fortier showed them the way to another elevator tube, one that was seldom used, and

the trio descended once more into the depths of the pirate base. Already, now that they

knew what to look for, they could see that activity within the base had stepped up, that

teams of workers were laboring furiously to get all the ships into fighting shape. There

was going to be a big move coming quite soon, just as Headquarters had said, and the

rebel forces were readying for the push.

 

The increased activity made it a little more difficult to steal a ship, as there was scarcely

a vessel that did not have someone checking it out. While Yvette and Pias remained in

hiding, Fortier strolled boldly out among the workers, secure in his identity as Rocheville,

Shen's top assistant. He returned to the SOTE agents half an hour later to say that he'd

located a scout ship with only two mechanics working on it, and that it would be the best

they could find on short notice. Time was crucial now; it could not be much longer before

Shen learned that Pias had not been killed, and then an all-out hunt for the fugitive would

begin.

 

The three undercover agents crept furtively through back corridors of the base to the

ship Fortier had chosen. It was a matter of only a few seconds' fighting, and the ship

was theirs. "These people have already done most of the work," Fortier commented as

they tied the mechanics up and left them in a seldom-visited storage area. "It should only

take me about ten minutes or so, and we'll be all set to leave."

 

Ten minutes did not give the Bavols much time to say all they wanted to say to one

another. They had been separated for the first time since their wedding when Yvette left

the Paradise, and had only been reunited a few days ago when the pirates captured that

ship-and even that had been a less than satisfactory reunion, because they were playing

roles that forced them to act as though they hated one another. Now they were to be

separated once more-and there was a strong possibility that they might never see each

other alive again.

 

Words were totally inadequate to express the feelings flowing between them as they

stood in the ship waiting for Fortier to announce he was ready for takeoff. They looked in

each other's eyes and caressed each other's face. Then, drawn as though by a powerful

magnet, they embraced tightly and surrendered themselves to a passionate, lingering

kiss that continued unabated until they heard Fortier clearing his throat discreetly behind

them.

 

"All smooth," he said simply.

 

With great reluctance, Yvette pulled herself away from her husband's embrace. "Take

care of yourself, mon cher." she said quietly. "I'll see you back on Earth." Then abruptly

she turned and walked out of the ship, before her eyes betrayed her and she showed the

tears she felt were coming.

 

She moved quickly away from the area without looking back. A few minutes later she

felt, rather than heard, the vibrations from the ship's departure. Alarms began ringing

through the base almost instantly at the unauthorized takeoff. The confusion as people

ran through the halls helped cover her own retreat back to the quarters that had been

provided for her. It was almost certain that the pirates would mount some sort of chase

after the fleeing ship-but, caught unaware as they were, they should be no match for

Fortier's skills as a pilot.

 

The naval commander would be off their screens before they could get very far-and once

off, he was unlikely to be found again.

 

Yvette returned to her room and waited. She was expecting Shen to call her soon and let

her know that she'd been right about "Brian Sangers," that he was dangerous and not to

be trusted. What she wasn't expecting was the tirascaline gas that came seeping slowly

through the ventilator over her doorway. She tried to rise from her bed at the first whiff of

the sickeningly sweet sleep drug, but fell back limply in a matter of seconds, totally

unconscious.

 

She awoke with a ringing in her head and the room swimming around her. At first she

was disoriented, but came slowly to the realization that she was lying on her back atop a

table. It took her another few minutes before her head cleared enough to note that her

arms and legs were chained to the four corners of the tabletop.

 

As she started stirring, testing the strength of her bonds, a man entered the room. He

was small, and uniformed as a pirate, but she'd never seen him before. "Who are you?"

she asked groggily. "What happened to me?"

 

"I'm keeping you here until the rest come back. We've had our fill of spies from SOTE."

 

A cold chill went down Yvette's spine, but she refused to let it show. "What do you

mean? Let me out of here. I demand to speak to Shen!"

 

"That'll be a little hard, gospozha. He's parsecs away by now, along with the rest of the

fleet."

 

Out of the corner of her eye, Yvette saw a shape moving in the doorway toward her

captor. She kept talking, trying to distract him. "You're overstepping your orders. When

Shen comes back, he'll have your ears as bookends for daring to talk to me this way."

 

"It was his orders that put you here. He. . ."

 

The pirate got no further in his speech, as he was cut down from behind by a sharp blow

to the base of his neck. Yvette lifted her head to see who her mysterious savior might

be, and saw to her amazement that it was Fortier. He'd disguised himself by shaving off

his mustache, letting his hair grow long and darkening his skin pigment, but it was

unquestionably the same man who had taken off in the ship with her husband. "I'm glad

to see you again," Yvette said. "Did everything go smoothly? Why did you come back?"

 

Fortier cocked his head and eyed her curiously, as though he didn't know her at all.

"State the nature of our business," he said sharply.

 

It was Yvette's turn to be suspicious. Could this somehow be an imposter? She decided

on a test. "I'm afraid the drug disoriented me. What does the timepiece say?" The word

"timepiece" was Fortier's codename; the real Fortier should react to that, but an imposter

wouldn't.

 

She could see Fortier relax visibly, and he stooped over her unconscious jailer to find the

key that would unlock her chains. "Are you from NIT' he asked as he searched through

the pirate's pockets.

 

That question did nothing to allay Yvette's suspicions. "No, SOTE," she said. "Which you

should remember perfectly well."

 

Fortier had found the key and was freeing her of her bonds. "I'm sure that damnable

doppelganger does, but I've never had the honor of meeting you, gospozha."

 

A chill of premonition ran down Yvette's spine. "What do you mean, doppelganger?" she

asked, making the question sound much more casual than it really was.

 

Fortier took a deep breath and began his story. "Several months ago I was alone on the

surface when I was ambushed by that ... double. I hid in a small cave behind a waterfall

and shot at him with my stun-gun, but nothing happened-he just kept coming at me. Then

he fired a blaster and hit me on the right side of my chest. It should have killed me, but it

didn't; I think some of the beam's energy must have gone into heating the water from the

waterfall before it reached me. My chest is badly scarred up, and I passed out from the

pain, but I lived.

 

"When I came to I was buried beneath a pile of rubble. I can only imagine that my

double, whoever he is, used his blaster to cause a rockslide and bury what he thought

was my dead body. Again, the rockslide should have killed me, but it didn't; I suppose I

should thank my DesPlainian heritage for giving me such a tough body.

 

"I was alive, but I was in pretty wretched shape. I lay there in pain for a couple of days

before I could gather enough strength to push the rocks off me and crawl out. There was

plenty of water flowing past to wash my blaster wound and the cuts and bruises I got

from the rockslide-but it was another day and a half before I could stagger to my feet

and wander into the jungle to find something to eat.

 

"I spent a week in the jungle, living off whatever I could scavenge while I waited for my

strength to return. I had plenty of time to think. The only reason a duplicate of me would

want to kill me is to take my place-which means someone went to a great deal of trouble

to learn a lot about me. That someone thought I was dead now, and I saw no reason to

let him know otherwise; I might learn more this way. As soon as I felt well enough again,

I slipped back into the base.

 

"One of the best things about this place is that it's so crowded that no one really knows

anyone else. I was able to darken my complexion with the juice from some berries from

the jungle, and I let my hair grow long and shaggy. I shaved my mustache at the first

chance I got, and just started mingling , with the ordinary men. Unfortunately I couldn't

get too close to my double to see what he was up to; I was afraid he might spot me. I

saw him with you a couple of times, but that didn't mean anything-I had no way of

knowing which side you were on. I spent months roaming around the base, but I haven't

really learned anything I didn't know before.

 

"Then, just a short while ago, the order came down that all ships would be sent into

battle. I didn't want to get trapped on one of them, so I hid until they were all gone. I

figured the base would be practically deserted, and I could put in a subcom call to Luna

Base to warn them. I was on my way to the Communications Room when I heard the

voices in here and stopped to investigate. That's about it so far."

 

Yvette had been rubbing her wrists and ankles while he talked, massaging life back into

them. Fortier's story had a ring of horrible truth to it-a truth she didn't want to believe

because of what it implied. "It's a nice story," she said noncommittally.

 

Fortier smiled. "I see. You want some proof that I'm not the double, right?"

 

"Exactly."

 

"Khorosho, what would it take?"

 

"I've worked against those doubles before. They're carefully constructed robots. If you're

the real thing, you'll bleed; if you're not, you won't."

 

Fortier thought for a moment, then looked around for some thing to use as an instrument.

Picking up the key to the chains again, he scratched one edge along the back of his left

hand. He squeezed the flesh and a satisfactory thin line of red appeared. "How's that?"

he asked.

 

"I'm convinced," Yvette said. "But I wish I weren't." Because that meant that her husband

had just gone off alone in a spaceship with the fourth of Lady A's deadly robots-on a

mission that had suddenly twisted itself beyond her ability to understand.

 

Chapter 16

A New Empress

 

The d'Alembert%' ship, traveling at top speed all the way from Gastonia, made it back to

Earth in time for the Coronation. Jules and Vonnie landed at the Vandenberg Spaceport

shortly after dawn on Friday morning, and the Head had a special jet waiting there to

take them into Angeles-Diego. The two agents were tired after their ordeal and long trip,

but exhilarated at the same time by the thought of actually attending this ceremony

normally reserved for the highest of the nobility.

 

They arrived at Bloodstar Hall three hours before activities were to start, and found

special admittance passes in their names waiting for them. They were escorted to the

backstage area and SOTE's security control checkpoint, where conditions were chaos

incarnate. People were running around busily, giving orders right and left, seemingly at

random-yet the d'Alemberts knew that there was indeed a rationale behind every action,

no matter how hectic the scene looked.

 

The Head and his daughter were in the center of a mob, being bombarded with questions

of where to go and what particular assignment to carry out. Nevertheless, when he noted

the arrival of the DesPlainian team, the Head squeezed his way through the throng and

over to their side. "I'm glad to see you've made it," he said. "We've acted on your

information, though I don't have time to explain it all now. Do you think you would be able

to help our security contingent here? I'll understand perfectly if you say you're too tired."

 

The thought of actually taking part in Edna's Coronation, no matter how far behind the

scenes, overcame any feelings of fatigue. "We'd be delighted to help," Jules said quickly,

and Yvonne added her own, "Only too happy."

 

The Head smiled. "Good. I hope it'll be an easy assignment. We're not expecting any

trouble within the hall itself, and we're making constant scans for weapons. So far we

haven't found any. If C sticks to his plans, the attack won't come until tomorrow, so

today's events should go well.

 

"As Grand Duke of Sector Four I'll have to be in the audience and Helena, as my

daughter and heir, will be with me. Have to keep up appearances, after all, though I'd be

much more useful back here. Ima Takanabe will be running the checkpoint; I'll take you

over and introduce you. She can give you your assignments for the day."

 

He led them over to a woman directing much of the backstage traffic, in her forties and

about the same height as the d'Alemberts themselves. She was the picture of efficiency.

"Colonel Takanabe, these are agents Wombat and Hedgehog. Use them wherever you

need two exceptionally talented people." Then, with only a slight nod, he was off again to

round up his daughter and take their seats in the audience.

 

Colonel Takanabe was impressed. Like everyone else in the Service, she knew the

codename Wombat as one of the top people in the organization-and while she had never

heard of Hedgehog, she knew that any partner of Wombat's had to be among the best.

She needed but an instant's thought to decide where to station the two newcomers to

best effect.

 

Jules and Yvonne ended up behind the scenes, one on either side of the enormous

platform that served as both altar and dais for the Coronation ceremony. Their job looked

easy, but it was deceptive. They were to be constantly scanning the audience for the

slightest sign of trouble-and if anything untoward occurred, it was their task to remedy it

without disrupting the ceremony if at all possible. The job required absolute concentration

throughout the many hours of the ceremony, and could not be taken lightly. It was also a

job that, if performed correctly, would receive no notice at all except in Takanabe's

efficiency report.

 

The rites had actually been going on for many hours before the d'Alemberts had arrived

at the hall. Emperor Stanley Ten had gone on Galaxy-wide live broadcast the night

before to announce his official abdication, to become effective upon the crowning of his

daughter. He then made the pro forma call for the nobles of the Empire to gather

together to proclaim Edna as Empress Stanley Eleven, supreme ruler of the Empire of

Earth.

 

There followed, on that same broadcast, a rare televised meeting of the Chamber of

Thirty-Six wherein the grand dukes of all thirty-six sectors of space unanimously issued a

proclamation requesting Crown Princess Edna to assume the Throne. The scene then

shifted to the College of Dukes, where the planetary rulers met in council. Not all the

1,368 dukes in the Empire were present, of course; only twice in history had every duke

been in attendance simultaneously at the College, and both occasions occurred early in

the Empire's history, when there were far fewer dukes. Nevertheless, the College

managed a splendid turnout, and their pomp rivaled that of the grand dukes as they

issued an identical proclamation.

 

The scene then shifted back to the Imperial Palace, where Edna Stanley acknowledged

the proclamations and agreed to become the new Empress. She then made a speech to

the people of the Empire, while her father stood proudly behind her-one of the few times

in the last five decades that he had ever stood in the background. Edna gave a glowing

tribute to the peace and prosperity during her father's reign; she called him "the greatest

of the Great Stanleys" and pointed out that during his reign the Empire expanded by

nearly twenty-three percent.

 

Moving from the past to the future, Edna spoke in general terms of the goals she wanted

to accomplish for the Empire. Her speech was simple and distinct, delivered without a

trace of nervousness or self-consciousness. All her life Edna had trained to become

empress; she now looked and acted the part to perfection. Those who heard her speak

that evening-and the vast majority of people within the Empire did, no matter what time it

was on their respective worlds-could have no doubts at all about her capacity to

administer the largest empire man had ever created.

 

At no time did Edna allow her audience the slightest inkling that the Empire was under

the threat of imminent attack from a navy that could very well rival her own. Only the

positive was mentioned that night, and only smiles could be seen on official faces.

 

When the broadcast ended, the public observance of the rites went into abeyance-but

the traditions went on nonetheless. It was traditional for the Empress-designate and her

husband to spend the night awake, fasting and meditating. In part this was a practical

measure, since few incoming rulers were able to get much sleep the night before the

Coronation anyway, and were glad of the chance to rehearse their part in the next day's

festivities. In Edna's case, part of the time was spent in consultation with her top military

advisors, going over plans to thwart the impending attack by C's forces; the rest of her

energy was indeed devoted to meditation, under the guidance of her husband Liu, a fully

trained mystic from the planet Anares. The two of them spent many hours that night

kneeling face to face on the floor in a dimly lit room, surrounded by servants and

courtiers. The royal couple held hands, but did not speak a word; in the months since

their marriage, they had reached a development in their relationship where words were

unnecessary.

 

Shortly before dawn the meditations were broken along with the fast. The couple was led

to a banquet table where a sumptuous feast had been laid out for them. Custom

required, however, that they only taste from each of the plates; they had to take in some

nourishment to face the long day ahead, but at the same time they knew that too heavy a

meal might tend to make them feel logy or sick. Their selections and portions were

carefully chosen by the Imperial physician ahead of time for best effect.

 

Edna and her husband were then separated for the ritual bathing and dressing. Each was

anointed with scented oils and perfumes, then dressed ceremoniously by teams of

attendants. The official coronation robes worn by the Empress-designate and her consort

were centuries old, dating back to the very beginnings of the Empire. Edna wore a

sideless surcoat of cloth-of-gold, heavy with jewels, over a white satin dress with a

three-meter train; around her shoulders was a scarlet mantle edged with ermine. Her

hair, undecorated, hung straight down her back to her waist.

 

Liu was in a scarlet houppelande open down the front to show a robe of gleaming white.

He wore no jewels, and the fur trim on his houppelande was plain white mink. At his waist

was a gold chain belt and a sword of gold set with jewels-the consort's sword,

deliberately blunt. Like his wife's, his head was bare.

 

Once dressed, the royal couple were brought down to the entrance of the Imperial

Palace in Los Angeles, where the carriage was waiting to take them to Bloodstar Hall.

This was an actual horse-drawn coach, gilded wood with enormous gems set in it, pulled

by a team of six snow-white horses. It took close to four hours to travel from palace to

hall in this primitive conveyance, and the route along the way was jammed with loving,

screaming subjects all craning to get even a glimpse of their new monarch. Edna waved

to the crowds until she thought her arm was going to fall out of its socket, and she and

Liu tossed out handfuls of tiny coins that had been minted especially for this occasion.

 

Lord Bloodstar was waiting for them on the front steps of the hall when the carriage

pulled up. He carried with him the ceremonial sword of state, and he ordered her to halt

while they went through a traditional challenge and response, at the end of which he

acknowledged her as the rightful ruler of the Empire. Then, carrying the sword before

him, he led her up the stairs and inside the front door where he announced the arrival of

the Empress-designate to the assembled lords and ladies of the Empire.

 

At this point, Edna accepted the sword from Lord Bloodstar and began her long, slow

march down the aisle while the nobles in attendance rose to their feet and watched her in

silence. All across the Galaxy, trillions of people were glued to their trivision sets,

watching the incredible spectacle at home, at their jobs, or wherever they happened to

be. Behind Edna as she walked came her retinue of ladies-in-waiting, carrying her train;

then her husband and his retinue; and finally Lord Bloodstar bringing up the rear.

 

Normally the Archbishop of Earth would have been waiting alone on the platform ahead

of her-but that was because the preceding emperor seldom had the chance to attend the

coronation of his successor. Today, William Stanley stood there beside the Archbishop.

He was clad in a white silk shroud, a garment symbolizing his ceremonial "death," which

allowed Edna to succeed him. In his hands, he carried his own personal Great Seals of

State which had been purposely defaced; this act signified that he could no longer

execute documents and laws as the Emperor, and his power was at an end. Edna had

her own official seals. At any given moment, there could only be one person holding the

supreme authority, or the Galaxy would dissolve into chaos.

 

William Stanley stood proudly on the platform, watching through mist-laden eyes as his

daughter made the same long walk he had taken forty-six years ago. Scores of

memories, happy and sad, flashed through his mind as he waited for her to reach the

platform, but he did not regret in the slightest his decision to hand over the power to her.

He'd seen his daughter in action often enough to know she would make a wise and fair

ruler-and how many monarchs had ever been blessed with such knowledge of their

successors during their own lifetimes?

 

Edna reached the base of the platform and started slowly up the stairs, aided by her

ladies, being most careful not to make the slightest slip in these unfamiliar clothes. This

moment must not be spoiled by anything so trivial. When she came to the top, Edna

walked to the center of the platform, placed her sword upon the altar next to the crown

of state that was already there, and knelt with her head bowed. Her ladies removed the

mantle from her shoulders and retreated backwards down the stairs. The archbishop

then came over and stood on her right side, her father on her left, and together both men

began the invocation to start the ceremony.

 

The d'Alemberts had seen almost nothing of the rites; their duty kept their eyes focused

on the audience rather than on the ceremony itself. It was at this point that both were

relieved by others and told to report back to Colonel Takanabe at the security

checkpoint. Puzzled-and a little alarmed by this unexpected change-they obeyed.

 

Takanabe was terse as she took them aside and explained the situation. "There is a fleet

of spaceships materializing in the solar system, out of the ecliptic plane and beyond the

orbit of Mars-but they are coming toward Earth in a hurry. Do you know anything about

this?"

 

The d'Alemberts exchanged startled glances. "They weren't supposed to attack until

tomorrow?" Vonnie exclaimed.

 

"Well. someone forgot to tell them," Takanabe said grimly. She turned to a special

microphone and repeated what she'd told the d'Alemberts. This connection went to a

receiver planted in the Head's ear, so small as to be unnoticeable unless one knew

precisely what to look for. The Head had also been equipped with a subvocal microphone

so he could speak to the checkpoint if necessary without disturbing those in the audience

around him.

 

The Head listened quietly to Colonel Takanabe's terse recitation. "Are Wombat and

Hedgehog there?" he asked when she'd finished.

 

"Yes, sir," Jules spoke up instantly. "What do you make of this?"

 

"I don't know. I suppose it's possible they changed their plans-but that information we

had was gotten under nitrobarb."

 

"Are you sure?" Those three words came across the air waves and hit the agents like so

many bullets.

 

Vonnie slapped a hand to her forehead. "Mon Dieu! We could have been injecting her

with distilled water!"

 

As the magnitude of what had happened began to sink in, the d'Alemberts felt sick at

heart. They had been so proud of themselves for finally capturing Lady A, for finding out

how the leaks from SOTE were accomplished, and especially for learning the details of

the plan to attack Earth. They had escaped from Gastonia alive and delivered their vital

information on time. And all the while they had been operating under a ruse perpetrated

by one of the craftiest villains who'd ever lived.

 

Looking back on it, they could see step by step everything that had gone into setting

them up. Shortly after Jules discovered the house-something he was bound to do

eventually they had been elevated to a high position within Tshombase's regime ... a

position that just happened to put them in the right place to overhear Lady A saying that

she would be staying at the house for a few days. Their attack, with almost no

resources, against a well-defended house had been absurdly simple, and they

encountered no resistance once they broke in. The one door unlocked on the top floor

had been the entrance to Lady A's office, where a vial of "nitrobarb" was conveniently

lying in a drawer, waiting to be found!

 

As soon as the scene was set, Lady A stumbled in alone and allowed herself to be

captured most easily, knowing the only real alternative the agents would have was to use

the planted "nitrobarb" on her. Under the influence of the supposed truth drug she could

tell them anything and they would believe her implicitly. Then, when she had told them

precisely what she wanted them to know, guards broke in and chased the agents away

to a conveniently waiting spaceship.

 

Jules felt like a classic fool. "I've seen rookies fresh out of the Academy with more brains

than we have," he moaned. "I refuse to let you wallow in self-deprecation," the Head said

sharply. "It's no dishonor to lose to the best-and now we know exactly how good our

Lady A is. She took great pains that you would believe her. At every step of the game

she made sure it was just hard enough to give you a good challenge, so you wouldn't

think you were given things too easily. She played every hand perfectly; I only hope we

survive to win a rematch." "But what can we do about it now?" Vonnie asked.

 

"At the moment, the principal fight is out of our hands." the Head said with remarkable

calm. "It's the Navy's job to fight these battles, not ours. We'll have to leave it up to them

and hope they're better at their job than we've been at ours.

 

"The Service has its own tasks at the moment-security during the Coronation. No matter

what's happening in space above us, our Empress needs protection right here in this

room. Lady A tried a two-pronged attack during Edna's wedding; she might use that

tactic again. Take up your posts and make sure nothing goes wrong-let the Navy handle

the rest."

 

At that moment a mighty cheer went up throughout the building, a cheer that shook

Bloodstar Hall to its very foundations. The enormous crowd, unaware of the drama that

was soon to take place in the vacuum between planets, was reacting to the archbishop's

placing the purple robe of state around Edna's shoulders and her father's placing the

heavy silver and gold crown upon her head. At that moment, the other peers in the

audience put on their own crowns and coronets. It was official now. Princess Edna had

become Her Most Imperial Majesty, Empress Stanley Eleven, sovereign ruler of the

Empire of Earth.

 

The d'Alemberts took up their posts once more as the archbishop's benediction was

pronounced over the newly crowned empress. The next four hours would be filled with

various ranks of nobility, councilors and officials appearing before their new monarch and

swearing, individually and collectively, their fealty to her and all her line and heirs. But

though the DesPlainians kept their sharp eyes alert for any signs of danger within the hall

itself, their minds were millions of kilometers away. far out in space where the battle was

to be joined-a battle that, because of their mistake, could well mean the end of the

Stanley Dynasty and, indeed, of the Empire-itself.

 

Chapter 17

The Fourth Robot

 

Yvette explained to the real Commander Fortier exactly what the Bavols' mission had

been here while she and the naval officer were on their way to Shen's office. "What I

can't understand," she said, "is what Shen expects to gain by all this. Why did the robot

take my partner with him? If they knew all along that we were SOTE agents, why go

through with this elaborate charade?"

 

"There are only two reasons for letting any spy live once you know his identity: to find out

who else he contacts, and to feed him misleading information. They certainly

accomplished the first objective here; perhaps they're after the second as well."

 

Yvette nodded grimly. Authentication was always a problem in the intelligence business.

If the fake Commander Fortier told something to Headquarters, it would carry so much

weight; if Pias Bavol of SOTS confirmed the same information, it would be worth that

much more. Lady A and her cohorts might indeed have a reason to keep her husband

alive a while longer, at least until he had unwittingly done what they wanted. Then, Yvette

was sure, the robot would kill him without mercy even before her husband could react.

 

The two agents had their guns drawn as they moved through the halls of the pirate base,

but they avoided confrontations with the few pirates they encountered by hiding until the

others passed. The place was not totally deserted, but the silence was eerie when

contrasted to the bustle that had been the rule until just recently.

 

They reached Admiral Shen's office in short time. They made quick work of the two

guards and set about searching the room for any clues to the conspiracy's plans. Yvette

checked for physical evidence in desks and cabinets while Fortier, more familiar with the

computer filing system the pirates used, checked the electronic records. At last he came

upon a particular code heading that pleased him, and he spent several minutes skimming

it before announcing his discovery.

 

"It's not good for our side," he said when Yvette came over to see what he'd found, "but I

have to admit it's clever. They're going to leak to our people the `fact' that they'll attack

the day after the Coronation with a certain sized force. The Navy, trying not to tip its

hand, will not order reinforcements from nearby bases to cope, but rather have ships

come from the more distant bases. These ships are supposed to go first to a spot where

all the enemy ships are thought to be conducting a rendezvous; if they're not there, the

reinforcements are to go on to bolster Earth's defenses."

 

Yvette nodded. "That's where my partner and the robot went, to the rendezvous point to

act as a beacon for the Navy ships."

 

The only trouble is, that plan is a fraud. The attack is scheduled for the day of the

Coronation, rather than the day after. The pirate fleet is more than double the strength

Head quarters thinks it is. If the reinforcements ever do arrive, the battle will be over and

the pirates can cut them down at their leisure."

 

"If they arrive?"

 

Fortier pointed to a section of the display screen. "That rendezvous point is a trap. Your

partner and my lookalike are there to lure the fleet in by telling them the pirates are on

their way and an ambush can be set. Actually, that area is crammed with space mines,

mass activated. The scout ship's too small to set them off, but if the Navy's ships drop in

there from subspace most-if not all-of them will be blown out of the sky. There won't be

enough left to reinforce Earth's defenses."

 

"We've got to send out a warning. We've got to let someone know the truth."

 

"Whom do you suggest? It's almost time for the Coronation; Headquarters will know very

shortly anyway. And as for your partner or the reinforcement ships, they're in subspace

right now and couldn't receive a message."

 

"Then we'll send a message to the near-Earth bases," Yvette said resolutely. "If they

start now, they may be able to reach Earth in time to help out."

 

Fortier nodded and raced out of the room. Yvette was at his heels as he ran down the

deserted corridors to the Communications Room, and fortunately their paths did not

cross any of the few pirates left on the base. They waited what seemed to them an

ungodly long time for the subetheric communicator to warm up, and then Fortier began

sending out calls to the bases that ringed Earth's solar system. After a few desperate

moments, he looked up at Yvette.

 

"I can't get through," he said. "This subcom looks to be in good condition, but I can't get

through to any of the bases close enough to Earth to be of any help. Could there have

been sabotage on that large a scale?"

 

"Where Lady A is concerned," Yvette said dismally, "nothing seems to be impossible."

 

Fortier rubbed his forehead worriedly for a moment, then looked up quickly. "If we can't

call, we'll take the message to them in person," he said. "A few ships were left behind

here because their guns aren't working, but otherwise they're in running condition. We

can each take one and. . ."

 

"I can't fly a ship," Yvette said.

 

"Then we'll both go in one. We'll get to the nearest base and if the subcoms are still out

they can dispatch personal message ships to the other bases. We'll get the alarm out

somehow."

 

Yvette bit at her lower lip. "You go on without me and come back to pick me up later."

 

"What can you accomplish, here alone?"

 

"I can wait until my partner's ship gets out of subspace and send him a message warning

him about the robot."

 

"But the robot will hear the same message, and it can act faster than any human can."

 

Yvette's jaw was firmly set. "I'll think of something." Fortier wanted to point out what a

risk she was taking. If the pirate fleet were defeated, they might come running back to

this base to make a last stand-and any spy they found here would bear the full brunt of

their ire. if the pirates won the battle, a SOTS agent here alone would be cut off from

any possible allies: the pirates might return triumphantly and kill her.

 

He wanted to tell her all those things and more-but looking into her eyes, he could see

that she already knew them. Still, her feeling for her partner was so strong that she was

willing to take the risk anyway to save his life.

 

So. instead of lecturing her, the commander merely nodded and said, "Doesn't SOTE

have some sort of official toast?" Yvette gave him a weak grin and quoted the Service

salute: "'Here's to tomorrow, fellow and friend. May we both live to see it."'

 

Fortier smiled back at her. "I can't think of a better wish right now-or a better way to say

goodbye." And, without further ado, he turned and went out of the room, leaving Yvette

alone with the subcom set.

 

The scout ship in which Pias and his supposed ally were traveling took four days in

subspace before reaching its destination. Then they dropped back into the real universe

and waited for things to happen.

 

It did not take long. Within an hour of their arrival, a coded message came in from the

reinforcement fleet, asking for a status report. The Fortier-robot told them he expected

the pirates to rendezvous at this point within six hours, and that they should time their

own arrival here shortly before that. Then they could be waiting to pick the pirates off like

so many insects. Pias gave his concurrence in that opinion, and the scout ship signed off.

 

"What do we do now'?" Pias asked.

 

"We wait," his companion replied. "The fleet may get in touch with us again, or they may

just decide to move right in. We have to be here to help them in either case."

 

Fifteen minutes later, another call came in, this one from Yvette. Pias handled the

subcom, while the other stood behind him, looking over his shoulder. "What's the

matter?" Pias asked. "Why are you calling?"

 

"Status report," Yvette said. "The pirates took off several hours after you did-you should

be expecting them very shortly now."

 

"Thanks, but what about you? We thought you were going to stay with them," the

Fortier-robot said from over Pias's shoulder.

 

"They must have distrusted me or something. They tried to set a trap for me right after

you left, but I managed to escape, and they didn't want to hold up their invasion looking

for me. I've been trying to reach you ever since, but I just got through."

 

"We only came out of subspace ourselves a little while ago," Pias said.

 

"Eh biers, be careful, darling," Yvette said, looking straight into her husband's eyes. "And

be glad you've got Commander Fortier with you. He's as good a friend as Elspeth

FitzHugh."

 

Pias was about to remark that Elspeth FitzHugh could hardly have been called a friend

when he realized that that was the exact point his wife was driving at. Elspeth FitzHugh

was the robot he'd destroyed several months ago during their work on the planet Purity.

Yvette was saying that the other person in the scout ship with Pias was one of the

deadly robots Lady A had planted against the Empire-but Yvette was saying it in an

oblique way that only Pias would understand, because she knew the robot would

overhear.

 

"He probably is," Pias smiled back, "or the Head wouldn't have assigned us to work with

him."

 

"You can be positive of that."

 

Yvette's reply to his implied question of how certain her information was convinced Pias.

There was no doubt in Yvette's mind at all about this Fortier's status. Pias wondered how

she had learned this, but he knew by now how much faith he could put in his wife's word.

When she said "positive," she meant it.

 

"You couldn't have said it better," Pias told her. "We'd better break the connection now;

Fortier and I have a lot of planning to do."

 

"Khorosho. Take care of yourself-and remember. I love you."

 

"I love you, too," Pias smiled back. "That's what keeps me going." And as her face

disappeared off the screen, he closed his eyes to hold the afterimage for as long as he

could.

 

Fortier, a robot! They had known that the fourth of the creatures had been built like a

male DesPlainian-but Fortier wasn't quite a DesPlainian, and he'd come so highly

recommended that they overlooked that fact. For this robot to have taken the real

Fortier's place, it would have to know the inner workings of Naval Intelligence, including

all the codes-and the implications of that were frightening.

 

Pias forced his mind to put aside such thoughts and concentrate on only one thing: how

to destroy this robot. Both of them had come aboard with blasters they had taken from

Pias's pirate captors, but they had stored them out of the way on a lower deck. Neither

had thought he would need them inside the ship; Pias had not expected betrayal from his

ally, and the robot had probably planned to kill the SOTS agent with a surprise snap of

the neck. The situation had changed, and Pias knew he'd have to find some way of going

below and arming himself. The robot could not be overcome simply by brute force.

 

"I don't know about you," he said aloud, "but waiting makes me hungry. I think I'll go aft

and fix myself a snack. Can I get you anything while I'm back there?", "No, I couldn't cat

right now. Too nervous."

 

"Suit yourself." Pias left his seat in the control cabin and climbed down the ladder into the

small galley/storeroom below it. He started clattering noisily around to convince his

companion he was indeed working in here, meanwhile trying to remember where they

had stored the blasters. He recalled, to his chagrin, that they were one more level down,

in the small ship's engine room. He couldn't think of any reasonable excuse for going

down there.

 

"What was that?" Pias asked suddenly. "What was what'?"

 

"I thought I heard a noise down in the drive room. I'd better go have a look." And without

waiting for an answer Pias practically dove down the ladder as fast as he could. At this

point he didn't care whether the robot's suspicions were aroused or not; he wanted to

get to a blaster as quickly as possible, while he still had a slight head start on his enemy.

 

At this point the robot peered down from the control room and saw that Pias was moving

far faster than he should have been for performing this kind of check. Whether the robot

knew now that Pias was aware of its identity, it did know that this behavior was

suspicious. Pias was not so essential to the robot's plans that suspicious behavior could

be at all tolerated. The killer machine thus came to the conclusion, in a fraction of a

second, that Pias was now to be dispensed with immediately.

 

Having decided, it acted. Despite Pias's head start, the robot was so agile that it was

down the ladder into the galley before Pias had even made it completely into the drive

room. The SOTE agent could hear his enemy's approach and knew every second

counted. He leaped directly from the ladder to the cabinet in which the blasters had been

stored.

 

Grabbing both weapons at once, he turned around, fumbling the guns into firing position.

Even as he did so the robot reached out one hand and grabbed the pair of barrels,

crushing the weapons in its powerful grip. The move was a dramatic one, possibly

intended to impress Pias and demoralize him. But the Newforester didn't have time to be

impressed; he was too busy struggling for his life.

 

The instant the robot grabbed the guns and destroyed them, Pias ducked under_ the

other's outstretched arm and came up behind it. The man from SOTE knew he was stuck

in this chamber; if he tried climbing the ladder again, the robot could grab his leg and the

fight would soon be over. Similarly, he could not hope to beat the creature in simple

hand-to-hand combat-it was too quick and too strong, even for a person from a high-grav

world. He had to have some kind of a weapon and, even more important, a stratagem.

 

There was a long steel wrench sitting on a shelf against the far wall. Pias swiped at it,

grabbed it, and danced out of the robot's reach as it came at him again. Pias was not

sure how well-constructed the robot was, but he was willing to bet a wrench would do

some damage if he could manage to land a solid blow. If...

 

There was very little room to maneuver in the cramped drive room, a fact that worked to

the robot's advantage. Two of the side walls were banks of dials and switches, manual

overrides for the control systems normally nun from the pilot's console. The floor was

thickly plated and corrugated, shielding the room's occupants from the deadly energies of

the atomic drive beneath them. The other two walls were for shelves and cabinets,

holding miscellaneous tools and items the occupants of the ship wished to store. And in

the center of the room, dominating everything, were the large black drive housings-floor

to ceiling in height and so thick that a man embracing one could not fit his arms even

halfway around. These immense machines operated with little more than a gargling

sound, but with his senses heightened for this battle they sounded to Pias like twin

waterfalls pounding at his brain.

 

The robot came at him with impersonal determination, and Pias had to keep backing

away, circling around the room in and out of tight corners, trying to maneuver for better

position. But there was no better position, not in these narrow spaces. Even under

peaceful conditions, ship's engineers had difficulty maneuvering themselves through the

cramped confines of the drive room to check on or repair any component of the ship.

Pias looked for a good place to stand and found none. He dared not even swing his

wrench until he could be assured of a solid blow; with the robot's amazing reflexes it

could easily wrest the weapon away from him given any chance at all.

 

This should be Jules's fight, one small detached part of him thought. He's the physical

one. I'm the one who likes to think his way out of things.

 

The robot kept coming, quick as lightning, relentless as the sea.

 

In backing up, Pias bumped his left elbow hard against the protruding knob of a small

hatch labeled "Contaminant Flush." Luckily the wrench was in his other hand, or he would

have dropped it as he yowled with pain. The robot only smiled and kept advancing-but in

the middle of the pain, the flash of an idea occurred to Pias.

 

It would be too late to try it right now; the positions were wrong. He backed up again,

continuing around another circuit of the room, trying to maneuver his opponent into

exactly the configuration he wanted. He only prayed he would have enough strength in his

right arm to make it work.

 

As they reached the Contaminant Flush hatch again, Pias planted his feet firmly and

refused to back away any farther. The robot smiled, seeing this as a positive sign that

the fight would soon be over, and rushed forward even faster. Its eyes watched the

wrench in Pias's right hand, confident that was the only danger it faced.

 

As the machine came toward him, Pias reached out with his left hand and pulled open the

hatch cover for the Contaminant Flush chute. The robot, seeing this sudden move, tried

to slow down to avoid running into the open cover that was now between itself and its

target-and in that instant, Pias swung his wrench downward at the robot's head with all

the strength his body possessed.

 

The robot reached up quickly, grabbing the handle of the wrench before it could reach its

head and gripping it tightly to yank it out of Pias's grasp. Pias continued his downward

momentum so hard that his feet actually left the ground. So strong was the

follow-through that it pulled the robot off its feet and banged it against the side of the

open hatch. Before it could recover, Pias pushed it toward the opening and shoved it into

the chute, swinging the hatch shut behind it and locking it with a decided clang that rang

through the room.

 

The chute was meant as an emergency disposal tube for anything within the spaceship

that became contaminated by radiation from the drive. Before the robot could react and

fight its way out, Pias pressed the button at the side of the hatch. With a silent whoosh of

air, the robot was ejected from the tube and out of the ship into the dark depths of space

beyond the hull.

 

Pias leaned against the wall and found himself collapsing into a sitting position on the

floor. His arms and legs were trembling with the aftershock, and it took a moment for him

to steady them. That, he decided, was entirely too close.

 

The job was not finished though, he knew. The robot did not need to breathe, and had

not been "killed" simply by being ejected into space. It was helpless for the moment,

hanging in the void with no means of getting back to the ship, but it was still functioning

and potentially dangerous. He would have to take care of that.

 

As soon as his legs were steady enough to stand on, he climbed back to his feet and

returned up the ladder to the control room. He checked the gunnery screen, and soon

had the robot lined up in his sights. The scout ship was equipped with short-range

spaceblasters, 'and Pias made ample use of them. The robot was a very small target for

the aiming computer to zero in on, but four shots were sufficient to blow the robot apart.

 

That done, Pias turned on the subcom once more and beamed a message back to the

pirate base. "Yes?" Yvette answered cautiously.

 

"I got it," Pias said, and went on to describe in detail his fight with the robot.

 

Yvette was beside herself with joy. "I knew you could do it. I'm proud of you, my brave,

clever husband. That means that all four of Lady A's robots we know about are

destroyed."

 

"Leaving perhaps many more that we don't know about," Pias cautioned, trying to keep a

sense of proportion. "It also leaves you alone at the pirate base and me alone out here.

Neither of us can pilot a spaceship, so we're totally at the Universe's mercy. Tell me,

what was the robot's plan in getting me out here'?"

 

Yvette explained what she and Fortier had learned, that the area where Pias's ship was

currently floating was booby-trapped, waiting to destroy the Navy ships that blundered

into it.

 

"We've already told the fleet to come on in," Pias said. "They may be on their way here

this instant."

 

Yvette's face was grim. "They'll have to be stopped if we're going to save the fleet and

send them on to reinforce Earth." "Don't worry," Pias said. "You've done your job by

warning me about the robot, and Fortier is doing his by warning the near-Earth bases.

Now it's time for me to do mine by warning the fleet. Never fear, my love, I'll think of

something."

 

But as his wife's image faded from the screen, he had to admit to himself that he'd

projected more confidence than he truly felt. He made a quick try to raise the fleet by

subcom, but there was no response. As he'd feared, the ships had already gone into

subspace on their way to this rendezvous point. They would be unable to receive subcom

calls again until they materialized here-at which time it would be far too late.

 

Pias sat for several minutes staring at the complex assemblage of dials, meters, buttons,

knobs, switches and blinking red, green, blue and amber lights that comprised the

instrument panel. He'd seen other people maneuver those controls, but they were a total

mystery to him. That one over there looked as though it might activate the engines; this

set here probably put the ship into subspace; and those switches at the top seemed to

be the directional jets. There were others whose functions he couldn't even guess at. And

of course, the ship was not equipped with an instruction manual.

 

"I'll think of something," he said to himself under his breath. "But it had better be good

and it had better be fast!"

 

Chapter 18

The Coronation Day Incursion

 

While the eyes of the Galaxy were focused on the events at Bloodstar Hall, the Empire's

fate was actually being contested in space many kilometers away. Lord Admiral

Benevenuto, though he'd been expecting the attack tomorrow rather than today,

nonetheless had all his forces on the alert, ready for signs of trouble-and, while he would

have liked to attend the Coronation himself, he stayed at his post on Luna Base to handle

anything that might come up.

 

Thus, when the pirate fleet dropped out of subspace into the solar system, he was not

exactly surprised by its appearance. What did startle him, though, was its size. The

attackers were two thousand strong, nearly double the numbers that the information from

SOTE-supposedly obtained under nitrobarb-had led anyone to suspect. "Bozhe moi"'

exclaimed the admiral under his breath. "It's a regular armada!"

 

He had known that his forces would be outnumbered, but not this badly. The

reinforcements that were scheduled to arrive from the faraway bases wouldn't be here

until tomorrow-and even they would be barely sufficient to counter this much larger force

he was facing.

 

His first order of business was to mobilize the forces of Earth. Luna Base was suddenly

so alive with bells and sirens that the whole moon seemed to ring with the alarms. Many

of these warning signals had never rung before except during drills-but, as the admiral's

voice was now informing everyone on the base, this was no drill. War had come to the

Empire, on a scale not seen since the infamous Dukes' Revolt shortly after the Empire's

foundation.

 

Men and women scrambled madly to their battle stations. Security had kept a tight lid on

the knowledge of this attack, and none of them had been expecting anything out of the

ordinary. Many of them, off duty, had been watching the Coronation themselves. Now

some were confused and many were frightened by the startling turn of events, but-in

tribute to their training and dedication-they carried on despite their confusion and their

fear.

 

Within five minutes of the enemy fleet's appearance, the advance ships of the Empire's

forces lifted off the moon on an intercept course. Other ships under Earth's command, in

orbital positions around the solar system. began converging on a given spot where the

defenders intended to engage their adversaries in the coming battle-a spot well above

the ecliptic plane and as far from Earth itself as could be managed.

 

The attackers had the advantage of numbers, which also gave them a choice of the

attack formation they would use. As their fleet sailed relentlessly toward the Earth, the

ships clustered together in a large ball, with the smaller ships around the perimeter and

the bigger guns in toward the center.

 

Odd, thought Benevenuto. That's a defensive formation, a formation you use when you're

outnumbered and under attack in open space. It doesn't make sense here. They've got

so many little ships clustered about that they don't even have room to fire off the big

ones.

 

Arguments were flying fast and furious through the War Room at Luna Base as the board

of admirals sat around the conference table and watched the three-dimensional

representations floating within the screens. Standard procedure when the enemy

clustered that way was to form the defending ships into a loose-knit globe around the

center, firing in from all angles and pouring as much energy as possible into the cluster's

heart. Several admirals argued that the Navy should be doing just that, but Benevenuto

demurred. "Let's stay spread out for now." he said. "We'll see if they make their move."

 

At Bloodstar Hall, there was a scheduled break in the ceremony during which the

Empress was to have a small snack and refresh herself. She was informed of the attack

at this time, but merely nodded gravely and said, "The Navy will do its job. Meanwhile,

the ceremony will continue as planned.

 

Edna also took this opportunity to change her outfit, so that when she returned to the

dais she was wearing a more modern long silver gown, heavily jeweled. Over this she

wore her robe of state, and her crown atop her head. Liu appeared beside her, now

wearing a white robe and purple mantle. She presented him with a real sword now,

symbol of his role as her defender, and the two sat side by side through the

proceedings.

 

Even if her personal presence could have made a difference in the battle. Edna would not

have called a halt in the coronation ceremony that was laboriously grinding its way

through the afternoon. Her facial expressions were kept under rigid control all the way as

the speeches and the formula recitations droned on. She would accept a noble's oath of

fealty with the graciousness of a born ruler, give that person a half-smile of personal

warmth, and then sit back to await the coming of the next. Most monarchs called the

Coronation the longest day of their lives, and Edna could easily understand why. The

extra tension in her case only made it worse.

 

She was determined, though, to go through with every last word and gesture of it. We

are all born with our various duties in life, she thought during a lull in the ritual. The men

and women of my Navy are doing theirs this minute; should they expect that I would do

any less than mine'

 

The hours dragged by, too, in the War Room as the two fleets slowly narrowed the gap

between them. The pirate armada continued to fly in its tight cluster formation, contrary

to all rules of custom and logic. Three-quarters of the high command voted to englobe.

To silence them, Benevenuto had simulations run in the war games computer. The result

of each simulation was the same: the computer also said to englobe.

 

"If we wait too much longer," one admiral insisted, "they'll break through our lines and we

won't be able to englobe." Benevenuto stood firm in his decision. The pirates' cluster was

not an efficient attack formation. It was a feint, it had to be. He knew, as surely as he

drew breath, that englobing would be a tactical mistake of the worst order. Resolutely he

kept his ships aligned on a plane perpendicular to the cluster's course, a wall that was

always between the invaders and the Earth. In the computer simulation, they watched

the lights representing the pirate armada approach the wall formed by Earth's Navy.

Soon the two forces would be within firing range and the battle would begin in earnest.

The Empire ships on the wall near the point of contact would be able to fire at the

cluster, but those farther away would be out of range and ineffective. The cluster, like a

demolition ball, would punch right through the plane of defense and keep on going.

 

"Commence firing as soon as the cluster is within range," Benevenuto ordered. "And tell

the defense to retreat, keeping a constant firing distance between our wall and their

cluster. Any ships in the center damaged or destroyed are to be replaced by vessels

from the periphery-but we stay, at all times, between Earth and the invading force."

 

"Retreat is suicide!" Admiral Carswell cried. "We want to keep their ships as far from

Earth as possible. We must englobe and attack now."

 

"May I remind you that we're outnumbered, Admiral?" Benevenuto said calmly. "In our

present formation, all of our ships are between Earth and the enemy; if we were to

englobe, the majority of our ships would be on other sides, leaving only token resistance

in the enemy's path. That cluster is not an attack formation. They're only using it to draw

us into a globe so they can make their real move. Gentlemen and ladies, we will not be

drawn. We will force them to make their move first, even if it means strategic

withdrawal."

 

The two fleets were now within firing range, and the simulation on the screen showed

that a fight was definitely taking place. It was still at a low level because only a few ships

were involved on either side. For the pirates, only their ships in the outer layer of the

cluster on the side facing the wall had any chance of hitting anything; and for the Navy,

only those ships at the contact point of the wall could fire back at the attackers. Slowly

the wall was pressed backwards toward the Earth as the pirate cluster, with its superior

numbers, pushed forward trying to break through the line of defense.

 

On Earth, the sun was setting on the western coast of North America as the formal

acceptance ceremony at Bloodstar Hall was drawing to a close. After the last oath of

fealty was given and acknowledged, it was customary for the new ruler to give a speech.

Edna had had a long one all prepared, but the situation now seemed to require her

presence elsewhere. She abandoned her prepared text and instead made a few

off-the-cuff remarks. She thanked all who had attended and all who wished her and the

Empire well. She praised her father for the wisdom and the peace that characterized his

reign, and made a solemn promise to do all within her power to continue in his course.

She concluded by asking for everyone's courage and support during the Empire's current

crisis-a request that startled her Galaxy-wide audience, since most people hadn't known

there was a crisis. They were soon to learn otherwise.

 

The official ceremonies concluded, Edna swept out of Bloodstar Hall, trailing majesty

behind her like the train of her gown. Traditionally she should have taken the same horse

drawn coach back to the Imperial Palace where the Coronation Dinner and Ball were to

be held. Edna, however, had paid enough compromise to tradition today, and had no

patience for more while there was a war on. She and her father instead boarded the

official copter and sped back to the palace, where Edna announced that the celebrations

were postponed for a week during the emergency.

 

Once back in the palace, Edna and her father went directly to the Council Chamber,

where a direct link-up with Luna Base was already waiting for them. While Benevenuto

and his staff kept abreast of developments, a senior aide filled the new Empress in on

everything that had happened so far. The arguments for and against englobement were

summarized, and Edna listened gravely. Her father sat down beside her, out of camera

range, and squeezed her hand to give her confidence. The decisions were all hers to

make, now, but he let her know he was there to lend his opinion if needed.

 

When the situation had been summarized, Edna called Benevenuto over to the line to talk

personally. "Are you sure this cluster of theirs is just a feint?" she asked her Lord of the

Admiralty.

 

"They can't attack Earth in that formation," Benevenuto replied. "All their big firepower is

in the center; they haven't enough artillery on the-surface of their sphere to do much

damage. They're just trying to entice us into committing ourselves before making their

move."

 

"The bulk of the advice seems to be in favor of englobement.

 

Benevenuto drew himself up proudly. "I can only go by the accumulated instincts of forty

years in the Navy. I'd stake my reputation on that opinion."

 

"You are staking your reputation," Edna said coolly, "and a whole lot more, besides. The

Empire itself may be riding on this battle."

 

"All the more reason, Your Majesty, to act the way I know is right."

 

"I'll pray for both of us, Admiral. Carry on."

 

The Empress broke the connection and turned to look at her father. The look of

imperious command she had affected for her officers' sake was gone now, replaced by

one of indecision. "Did I do the right thing?" she asked.

 

"Time will tell you better than I can," William Stanley said, putting an arm around her

shoulders to comfort her. "But I didn't appoint Cesare Benevenuto Lord of the Admiralty

just because I liked his mustache. When you know someone's an expert, you trust him in

his field of expertise." He smiled. "If it's any consolation, I would have done the same

thing you just did." _

 

At Luna Base, Lord Admiral Benevenuto was unaware of this vote of Imperial confidence.

As minutes dragged into an hour, and then two, his problems only increased. The pirate

cluster was coming closer and closer to Earth's orbit, and his wall of defense was

retreating at an equal pace. The enemy had made no move to disperse its cluster. More

and more of the admirals were crying for englobement. Computer simulations were

saying that englobement was the only strategy, and that its implementation was urgent.

 

Sweat was literally dripping off Benevenuto's brow as he watched the points of light

move slowly across the display screen. Behind him, he knew, some of the admirals were

discussing the possibility of going to the Empress and asking that he be replaced by

someone more reasonable. He shut out those whispers, shut out the noises, shut out the

entire world except for those steady little lights in front of him. Make your move, he

implored the pirates. Break out of your thrice-damned cluster.

 

As though willing it had made it so, the cluster suddenly exploded on the screen, sending

pinpoint fragments of light in all directions. Each dot represented a ship, and their

numbers were beyond counting. Benevenuto almost collapsed with relief. His gamble had

paid off; the pirates had broken first.

 

The advantage of Benevenuto's tactics now became apparent. If the Empire forces had

englobed the cluster they would, because of their smaller numbers, have had to space

themselves widely around the surface of their imaginary sphere. The sudden "explosion"

of the cluster would have been disastrous. Dozens, if not hundreds, of the attacking

vessels would have slipped through the lacy globe. Some, assuredly, would have been

destroyed, but the majority would have dispersed throughout space, and would have

outflanked the defenders. The Navy would be both outnumbered and outpositioned.

 

Benevenuto's wall could do nothing to change the relative numbers, but it had prevented

the enemy from getting around the defense. Those members of the cluster who exploded

out towards Earth found themselves being fired upon the instant they approached

shooting distance of the wall; those who expanded in the opposite direction were not as

immediate a threat, and could be discounted for the time being.

 

Benevenuto spent little time gloating about the success of his strategy. All he had done

was prevent a crisis from becoming a catastrophe. His forces were still woefully

outnumbered, and there was little that could be done about it any more except trust to

fate. Now that the battle had been joined in full, strategy took on a secondary

importance. Although his forces would try to hold the wall as best they could, the fighting

now belonged to individual ships and the fighting prowess of the two navies.

 

The morale boost in forcing the pirates to commit themselves first was a big one for the

Empire's fighters, and gave them an initial surge into battle. Their guns blazed across the

emptiness of space as they ripped out against the rebel invaders. There was a small

flurry of flashes on the computer screen at Luna Base as the first real volley of the war

wiped several pirate vessels off the board. The pirates recovered their equilibrium in a

minute, though, and a more accurate tenor of battle established itself.

 

There were simply too many pirate ships to be contained easily. As more and more of

them spread out from the center of the original cluster, they moved parallel to the wall in

an effort to skirt around and behind it. At Benevenuto's order, the ships comprising the

wall spread apart a little more-but never so far apart that an enemy ship could slip

between the spaces and get past them.

 

When the wall had expanded to its maximum permissible size and still the pirates were

circling around, the edges of the wall bent backward as the Navy once more gave

way-but again, the "retreat" served a specific function. At no time was an invading ship

allowed to slip behind a defender; the Navy's vessels were always between the pirates

and the planet they were defending. Eventually, Benevenuto knew, his wall would be

twisted into a sphere surrounding the Earth-at which point, the pirates would have

successfully englobed them. The Navy was saying to the attackers. though, "If you want

to harm Earth, you'll have to go through us first."

 

It was a noble sentiment-but unfortunately, the pirates had enough ships to do the job,

given the time. Earth's only hope was that the reinforcements would arrive and not give

them enough time.

 

Hours passed, and the insurgent forces hammered relentlessly at the Navy's positions.

Back and back the defenders were pushed, giving way reluctantly, until, as Benevenuto

had known would happen, they circled the Earth like a sphere of fireflies. The moon itself

was outside the sphere of defense; several of the pirates' bigger ships came overhead

and began pounding at Luna Base. But though all Earth's ships were busy in defense of

the mother planet, Luna Base was not completely helpless. Its big surface-mounted guns

blasted forth, crippling one of the pirate ships and making the others back off to a more

respectful distance. The blasts from the ships did some surface damage to the base, but

the command levels, buried deep beneath the lunar soil, remained protected.

 

The Earth was bathed in a web of fire as the pirate forces picked at it, probing

constantly for some weakness, some hole they could slip through to the surface below.

The Navy fighters held up their shields and locked together in tight formation, refusing to

let the enemy pass. Whenever an Empire ship was hit and disabled, the others around it

quickly closed up to block the opening. They did their share of damage, but there were

many more of the attackers than there were defenders. Slowly, the sphere around the

Earth was tightening-just like a noose.

 

By now, the news had spread throughout the Empire that Earth was. under attack by an

insurrectionist movement "of unknown origin." The general call was put out for Navy

vessels not on urgent duty elsewhere to rally to the capital planet's defense-but no hope

could really be put there. The battle would be over before most of them could reach the

solar system. By that time, either the Stanley Dynasty would have been upheld ... or

chaos would rule in the Galaxy.

 

The inhabitants of Earth hardly had to be told that something out of the ordinary was

happening; their eyes provided ample evidence of the war of fire. People living in the

nighttime hemisphere saw their sky alive with new stars and meteors as the two

opposing fleets battled for supremacy. The ships themselves were invisible to the naked

eye, but the trails made by their energy beams were spiderwebs of light crisscrossing

the constellations-and when a direct hit was made, the bright explosion was a nova

against the dark sky.

 

The defending ships were sorely pressed. Already some of them were dipping slightly

into the upper levels of Earth's atmosphere. They could not shrink back any further-but if

too many more of their number were destroyed, there would be holes in their shell of

protection that the enemy ships could penetrate. The havoc those ships could wreak on

the surface of a highly populated planet like Earth was almost inconceivable.

 

Then, when the high command at Luna Base was beginning to despair, other ships

appeared on the screen near the orbit of Venus and closing in fast on the Earth.

Benevenuto's first thought, that these were the reinforcements he'd been expecting, was

crushed as he realized that those ships could not possibly arrive for another ten hours.

His next thought was that these might be more pirate ships, brought in to reinforce the

already dominant fleet. But that idea, too, proved to be wrong as the incoming messages

began to arrive.

 

These were ships from near-Earth bases, the ones that had been bypassed in the initial

strategy discussions between the Navy, the Emperor and SOTE. Their incoming

communications had been sabotaged in some unknown manner, but they were warned of

the upcoming invasion by the arrival of Commander Fortier in person, bringing with him

documentary proof of what was to occur. Rising to the occasion in the best tradition of

the Imperial Navy, the ships set out at once to assist the beleaguered forces of Earth.

 

Because of the sabotage to their communications equipment, the various bases had

been unable to coordinate their efforts. Scout ships were sent to each individual base,

alerting them of the danger and requesting help. As a result, the reinforcements arrived in

groups of five, ten or as many as fifty ships at a time-but even so, each newcomer was a

welcome sight indeed to the admirals of the high command. Each new ship meant that

much more life for Earth, that much less domination by the traitors.

 

The pirates were obviously surprised by the late arrivals, and seemed unsure for a little

while how to cope. The attack on Earth did not abate, but the rebel leaders deployed

some of the ships that had been backing up the attack to take care of the threat from the

new direction instead. This cheered the weary crews of the defense ships; they'd been

on duty for close to a full day without letup, while the attackers had had sufficient

numbers to relieve one another every so often. Now that more pressure was on them as

well, the pirates would not be quite so relaxed.

 

Reinforcements from the near-Earth bases straggled in during the course of the next

eight hours. These new forces were fresher than either the pirates or the Earth-based

naval units, and brought a renewed vigor to the fighting. Even counting the newcomers,

the Navy's forces were still slightly fewer in number than those of the attackers; but the

ferocity with which the reinforcements fought more than made up the difference. The

rebel leaders realized at last that they had a fight on their hands.

 

At this point the battle-which had begun to look like a rout by the pirates-could have gone

either way. The rebels had superior numbers and a slight edge in position, but they were

now fighting on two fronts at once and could not concentrate on breaking through the last

of Earth's defenses. The Imperial forces, on the other hand, were hampered by an

apparent breakdown in their computer system. Reports that should have been tallied

instantly were taking too long to reach the high command; simulations were either

incomplete, inaccurate, or too late to do any good. Confusion somewhere along the line

of programming, it was assumed, was fouling up what had been touted as an infallible

network for strategic calculations. More and more often coordination broke down, and

individual commanders had to make spot decisions on their own. In some cases, this

cost the Imperial forces key tactical positions, but they made the best of it nonetheless.

 

As the battle dragged on into its second day, both sides were wearing down appreciably.

The pirates had hoped to win the war with a quick, decisive stroke so that they could

proclaim their new regime before the outlying sectors of the Empire could respond to the

crisis. That dream had died, now, and with it had gone much of the rebels' spirit. The

Navy had a cause to fight for, while the insurgents had only their own greed propelling

them forward. If they did not capture their goal soon, they would not have time to

consolidate their gains before the rest of the Empire rose in protest.

 

With this in mind, Admiral Shen decided on one last bold stroke: an all-out assault on

Earth. Ignoring the Navy ships at their rear, the pirate vessels dived at their target in a

suicidal charge. Their blasters were firing continuously, pouring incalculable amounts of

energy down at the harried remnants of Earth's defense. Perhaps it might have worked if

they hadn't been so successful before at pushing the defense net in tightly against the

atmosphere; but the ships protecting the mother planet were now packed so closely

together that their firing ranges overlapped. The destruction of even three ships in a given

area made little difference; their neighbors were able to hold up the net and prevent a

single attacker from slipping through. The rebels ended up losing fully ten percent of their

ships in that one attempt to break through-and still the Earth was intact.

 

Then, dropping out of subspace barely fifty million kilometers away, came the

reinforcements Benevenuto had been expecting-a compact grouping of more than a

thousand ships, all fresh and eager for battle. In the War Room, still tense after the

narrow escape from the suicide charge, a rousing cheer went up as the new arrivals

were spotted on the screens-and this cheer was echoed all down the line of command as

the word was spread.

 

The rebels' reaction, needless to say, was quite different. Their attack, which once had

looked so unbeatable, had failed. There was no way they could expect to hold their own

against the now-superior Imperial forces, nor could they expect to be shown any mercy if

they surrendered. Their only course lay in flight, and Admiral Shen was wise enough to

take it. He gave the general order to retreat, and his ships fled from the Earth at top

speed.

 

The Navy, smelling blood, hastened in pursuit. Crews who'd thought themselves nearly

dead of exhaustion suddenly found renewed strength to join the chase. The tight defense

net that had ringed the Earth suddenly evaporated. There was no longer any use for it;

the attackers were on the run.

 

All told, nearly two-thirds of the enemy fleet was either destroyed or captured by the end

of battle. Many of those who escaped did so in disorganization; there is no evidence that

they ever rejoined the conspiracy against the Throne, their crews contenting themselves,

instead, with becoming ordinary pirates once more. Most of them were eventually

rounded up by the Navy during the course of its normal anti-pirate activities. Only

twenty-five percent of Admiral Shen's once-mighty armada remained intact and returned

to some hidden base to lick its wounds and prepare-perhaps-for new battles.

 

While the Navy pursued its duty of rounding up the remaining rebel ships, it was for

Earth-and indeed, for the entire Empire-a moment of great relief. Once again the unity of

Mankind among the stars had been maintained. The battle that was to be known forever

afterward as the Coronation Day Incursion was over.

 

Chapter 19

Breathing Room

 

When the commanding officer of the final contingent of reinforcements had a chance to

make his report to Command Central-after the pandemonium brought on by the victory

had died down in the halls of Luna Base-he had a strange tale to tell. His fleet, as per

their orders, had been waiting in the vicinity of the supposed pirate rendezvous point.

They had checked with the intelligence operatives at the scene, and had been told that

everything was going as it had been planned. Accordingly, the fleet set out to intercept

the pirates at the rendezvous point.

 

They never made it there, and it was fortunate they didn't. They learned that the entire

region of space had been mined, and their force would have been decimated had they

materialized there. Instead, they altered course and flew directly to Earth, where their

presence decided the outcome of the battle.

 

What had stopped them was, in the words of one captain, "the craziest damned pilot I

ever saw in my life." While still in subspace, the lead ships detected the presence of

another vessel. It was flying in circles, spirals and indescribable, irrational patterns, like a

housefly on LSD or durambitol. No natural object could move like that, and no sane pilot

would.

 

It was as though whoever controlled that ship were pushing buttons at random to make it

go.

 

And that was exactly what it was. Unsure what to make of this apparition, the fleet

stopped to investigate, and found a small scout ship manned by an agent of SOTE who

warned them of the danger ahead. He told them they must proceed to Earth at all

possible speed. They took him aboard with them, and he explained the story in more

detail along the way, omitting only those classified items for which the captain did not

have a "need to know."

 

Mop up operations were begun a few days later, as soon as the Navy had time to

recover from the near fatal battle. A contingent of small scout ships was dispatched to

the phony rendezvous site to sweep the field and destroy all active mines that could pose

a hazard to future astrogation. Commander Fortier-assured of an imminent promotion to

captain for his outstanding work in this case-returned to the secret world of the pirate

base to pick up Yvette Bavol. The SOTE agent had not been idle while the battle was

going on. All told, nearly thirty pirates had been left behind by Shen to guard the base;

Yvette had rounded them up single-handedly and had waited, confident an Imperial ship

would soon come to take the prisoners off her hands. She and her prisoners were

transported back to Earth in triumph.

 

On the planet Gastonia, SOTE agents rounded up the Governor and his crooked aides,

holding them on charges of treason. There was no trace, however, of either Lady A or

Tanya Boros; both women had made good their escape once they were sure their plan

had worked.

 

Throughout the Empire, the mood of the people was one of elation. Not only did they

have a new Empress, but she'd already weathered one of the most frightening

challenges a monarch could be called on to face. Not once had she lost her composure.

Not once had she behaved as anything less than the Empress her people had a right to

expect. The people of the Galaxy knew now that Emperor Stanley Ten had made one

more wise decision in passing on his title to such an able and dedicated young woman.

 

The elation did not extend, however, to the office at SOTS Headquarters where the

d'Alemberts and the Bavols reconvened with their leader and his daughter. The faces

there were long indeed. Though the events of recent days may have seemed a triumph

to the rest of humanity, the people in this room knew better. From the very beginning

they had let Lady A lead them around by their noses, doing exactly what she expected of

them--and in the end, only the good fortune of Commander Fortier's surviving his double's

ambush enabled them to weather the experience.

 

The Head could read the dejection so plain on his agents' faces, and refused to let them

dwell on their failures. "In a way," he spoke up, "Lady A was paying us a high

compliment. It was only because she knew you were such good agents that she could

make her plans that intricately. Lesser people might have fumbled along the way, and

couldn't be counted on."

 

"Somehow," Pias said, "that doesn't make me feel any better."

 

"The fact remains," Jules agreed, "that because of us, the Navy was under prepared for

one of the most decisive battles in history."

 

"What's to keep us from falling for her tricks again?" Vonnie added.

 

"The same stubborn pride that makes you feel so bad now," the Head smiled. "Khorosho,

you were fooled-badly. Anyone can be fooled once. The best of us don't make the same

mistake twice-and Lady A knows that as well as I do. If she were to set you up this way

again, you'd spot it in a second and her plan would backfire in her face. I don't think she'll

try that trick again."

 

"No, she'll think up new ones," Pias agreed. "She's funny that way."

 

"How much of what she told us can we believe?" Vonnie asked. "Anything?"

 

The Head leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his neck. "The best liars

know how to combine just enough truth with their lies to make them believable. She told

us quite honestly that they were going to attack, but her date was slightly off. She told us

they had a large fleet, but she understated its size enough to mislead us. I'm willing to

bet that she was telling the truth when she said she'd never met C, but her physical

description of him is not to be trusted and those telecom numbers she gave you for

reaching C are pure gibberish."

 

"And that identity she gave us as 'Gretchen Baumann' is equally phony, right?" Yvette

said.

 

"The identity is real enough," the Head said. "Gretchen Baumann was born on the planet

Kiesel forty-three years ago; but she died at the age of seven from a fall down the stairs.

She quite obviously did not grow up to be our Lady A-again, an ingenious blending of fact

and fiction.

 

"As far as we've determined to date, the story about implanting our people with post-

hypnotic suggestions to inform her conspiracy what we're doing is pure fabrication. We'll

check it out, of course, but I think it unlikely she would have spilled her actual source of

information. Even if she thought her victory in that battle was inevitable, she still would

have kept something in reserve."

 

The Head stood up, walked around to the front of his desk and sat down on its edge. "In

the meantime, we have to concentrate on the positive. No matter how close a call we

had, we still ended up with a brilliant victory. The enemy fleet was decimated, and the

survivors have to be demoralized. If nothing else, we've gained ourselves some breathing

room. It'll be quite some time before C can build his forces up again to a high enough

level to pose much of a threat; he and Lady A will have to content themselves with

harassing tactics in the meantime. And there's always the chance that after this defeat

they'll give up their conspiracy plans altogether."

 

"There's always the chance DesPlaines will turn to chocolate," Yvette said dryly, "but I

wouldn't put much faith in it...

 

At this point Helena stuck her head in the door from the outer office. "That call's coming

in from Luna Base, Father." The Head nodded. "Khorosho, I'll take it in here."

 

Jules stood up nervously. "If it's something personal, we could leave."

 

"I wouldn't hear of it. It is personal, but not for me. Please stay, all of you."

 

He turned to his screen, which was beginning to flicker, and in another moment the image

of the caller appeared. It was none other than their new Empress, who was interrupting

her inspection tour of Luna Base to talk specifically to these superb secret agents.

 

Jules and Yvette knew Edna rather well, Pias and Yvonne less so-but none of them had

spoken to her since her ascension to the Throne. All were a little flustered at this

unexpected contact, but Pias-ever the gallant-recovered first. He stood and bowed

deeply with a sweeping gesture. "Your Majesty, I'm honored," he said.

 

Edna watched with amusement as the others echoed his behavior. "I'm still the same

person I was before," she told them. "I expect my friends to treat me in private as a

friend, not as some fragile china doll on a shaky pedestal. I called because I wanted to

thank you for all you've done so far, and to wish you continued success."

 

"Thank us?" Jules said. "Our failure nearly wrecked the Empire."

 

"Zander showed me your report on Gastonia, and I think it's remarkable," Edna said. "I'm

not talking about your being duped into carrying false information, or the fact that Lady A

and Tanya Boros escaped. The information about the planet itself was fascinating. I'd

had no idea that kind of thing was going on. And particularly to learn of the many innocent

people condemned to a life of barbarity simply because they were born of traitorous

parents-that's not the kind of thing I want occurring, in my Empire. I think the concept of

Gastonia as a prison world has outlived its usefulness; Stephanie was never my favorite

ancestor, anyway. I intend to call a meeting of the Imperial Council to discuss alternate

ways of dealing with traitors-and all this reform has come about because of your work.

Hardly a failure, I'd say.

 

"And as for Yvette and Pias, the information you obtained with Captain Fortier, and the

actions the three of you took, helped keep my reign from being the shortest on record.

Pias in particular." She turned to look directly at the Newforester. "I'm told that the

piloting you did was ... quite remarkable." "Never had a lesson," Pias replied.

 

"You might try a few," Edna scolded lightly. "If you hadn't had such heroic success, I

might now have to consider grounding you permanently on some rather serious charges."

 

Pias's face fell. "Reckless flying, I suppose."

 

Edna smiled, taking all the sting out of her words. "No," she said. "Actually I was thinking

of saving an Empire without a license."