Chapter 26

To her amusement, the Emperor looked dismayed. "I . . . see," he said slowly. "I hope Ranger Medart will be able to improve your opinion of us, Colonel. If your Systems should choose to become part of the Empire, I'd like you to be my guest in the Palace for a month or so."

Cortin inclined her head. "That is most gracious of Your Majesty. In that event, I would be honored."

"Until that time, then, Colonel."

The ultrawave screen went blank, and Cortin picked up the telephone handset, dialing High King Mark's private number. When that screen lit, she said, "Is Your Majesty aware that the Imperial scouts got a message out before they were captured?"

"I was not, Colonel. I assume that means we can expect more of them soon."

"I can guarantee it, sire." Cortin took a deep breath, released it slowly. "Rather than risk an automatic military response that could destroy the Systems, I took advantage of information one of my prisoners gave me. I appealed to the Emperor, based on their laws granting citizenship to anyone of Terran origin, and direct access to the Sovereign if necessary; at my request, he is sending one of his personal representatives to ease our inevitable absorption into the Empire."

There was a long silence, then the High King sighed. "If you think that best, Protector, I can hardly argue. I assume you'll take complete charge of the negotiations?"

"If that is Your Majesty's wish."

"You have resources I do not, and at least as much devotion to our mutual home; yes, it is my wish. I'll make the necessary announcement immediately."

"I feel inadequate, Your Majesty, but I will carry on as well as I can." Cortin stood silent for a moment, then returned to her seat. She'd hoped King Mark would take over, and was disappointed he hadn't. She had no diplomatic experience, and, she suspected, no skill in that field; how could she possibly bring about the sort of non-destructive Imperial takeover that would save the Systems and her Family?

"Joanie?" A voice finally broke into her abstraction.

"What is it, Mike?"

"Is there anything we can do to help?"

"I can't-- Yes." Cortin straightened. "If I'm in total charge of our relations with the Empire, I'm going to work on the assumption that we can become a fully functional part of it, with as much independence as it allows--as much as I understand the Sandemans and now, according to you, the Traiti, have. Tell Dave to release the rest of the prisoners and ask Captain DeLayne to join us, then have Matthew assign them all guest quarters. Find out if their ship will fit into the Lodge's grounds, and if so have it brought here; otherwise, they're to have free access, including transportation, while it's at the spaceport. Miss Conley?"

"Yes, Colonel?"

"Do you have any idea how long it'll take Ranger Medart to get here?"

Conley shook her head regretfully. "I'm afraid not, sir. I don't know where he is, and I'm not even too sure where we were when your warship captured us. Captain DeLayne might know."

"Thank you." Cortin wasn't sure whether to hope for no delay or a long one. The first would get the suspense over with; the second would mean a longer true freedom for the Systems. "Will you be subject to any discipline for cooperating with me?"

Conley grinned. "Since it worked out, no--I might even get a commendation. If it hadn't, well . . . but I had a hunch I could trust you."

"I'm the last one to argue against following hunches," Cortin said, "but I should point out that doing so can sometimes get you in trouble."

"I know, sir. Uh . . . your King called you 'Protector'. What's that?"

Cortin studied her guest. "I'm not sure I ought to go into that particular subject, Miss Conley. It's a religious title, and since it was our beliefs that caused our Founders to flee the Empire, I think it wise to avoid religious discussion as much as possible."

"Yes, sir--though it may relieve you to know that religion's not a very big deal in the Empire, most places, and the Empire itself is strictly neutral." She paused. "I'm sorry, Colonel, but I have a bit of a personal problem. Is there a 'fresher anywhere around?"

"A what?"

"A 'fresher. Let me think--restroom? Bathroom?"

"That we have, yes," Cortin said with a chuckle. "We call them bathrooms. Sis, would you show Miss Conley the nearest one, then her guest room?"

"Gladly." Chang put her arm around the Imperial, smiling. "This way, Miss Conley--may I use your first name?"

"Please--it's Gwen."

The two had barely gone out a side door when Odeon led the rest of the team and their former prisoners through the main entrance. Since they were guests now, Cortin gave them a courteous bow before asking, "How much did you tell them, Mike?"

"Only that they're free; I thought you'd want to tell them the rest."

"Where's Conley?" DeLayne asked, his voice concerned. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine," Cortin assured him. "She asked for a bathroom, then Lieutenant Chang's taking her for a brief tour. They should be back in a few minutes. It's thanks to Miss Conley's cooperation that you're free and Ranger Medart will soon be on his way to the Kingdom Systems."

"Huh?" DeLayne, Cortin thought, looked like he'd been hit with a sledge-hammer.

"You heard me correctly," Cortin said. She explained briefly, amused by the changes in his expression from disbelief to comprehension, then to determination.

"For someone who's afraid of the Empire," he said when she was done, "you're making one hell of an effort to bring it in. If you'd like some help, I'll ask for a temporary assignment here when I report we've been released."

Cortin considered that briefly, then nodded. "Any preliminary groundwork we can lay should help reduce transitional problems. Thank you for your offer, Captain." She paused, then said, "The troopers who brought you in mentioned you were the first group. How many of you are there in all?"

"Four hundred ninety-eight. Except for me, they decided to bring you a random sample; the only Navy ship class that has this small a crew is a courier."

"I can't offer all of you rooms here, then. Is your ship small enough to fit on a ten-acre estate?"

"Yes--equatorial diameter's two hundred meters--but since you can't have a dock, we'd leave a rather large hole. Just how big depends on how solid the ground is."

"Fairly solid, and if the Kingdoms survive this, filling a hole will be no problem. As soon as King Mark makes his announcement, then, it might be a good idea to bring your ship here."

"Agreed, Excellency. My Marines can supplement your troops if you think there's a chance of attack, that way."

"Very little," Cortin said. "Being prepared is never a bad idea, though." She turned to Odeon. "Mike, would you call Brad, brief him, and ask him for the loan of any Strike Force troops not on anti-Brotherhood operations?" She grimaced. "Not that I like asking them to camp out this time of year!"

Odeon grinned. "Be glad to, Joanie--and I don't think they'll mind, for you." He went to the phone to call Colonel David Bradford, Commander and Bishop of the St. Thomas RES Strike Force.

DeLayne shook his head. "I don't know what you've been taught about us, but it must've been fierce. And you're on our side!"

"I am not on your side," Cortin said. "If I didn't believe aiding a peaceful transition to be the Kingdom Systems' only chance to survive as a society, I would be fighting you to the best of my ability. You may be able to change my mind--under the circumstances, I'd like nothing better than to believe the best of you and your Empire--but right now, I'm no more than a reluctant ally."

"A reluctant ally's better than an active enemy, Excellency." DeLayne grinned. "You must have an ultrawave, to've spoken to His Majesty; may I use it to report in and request assignment here?"

"Yes--it's beside the phone Captain Odeon is using. If you can, please also find out how soon Ranger Medart will be arriving, and ask that he be informed I have been named sole negotiator for the Kingdom Systems."

27. Interim

DeLayne's call was fruitful, more quickly than Cortin had expected. As soon as he identified himself, he was transferred to Ranger Medart. Cortin studied him while DeLayne reported. She'd seen photos of the Ranger before, but that had been before she had any expectation of meeting him, or having her society's future depending on how she dealt with him. But now everything about him was meaningful.

Except for some graying around his temples, he looked young--normal for an Imperial officer, with the anti-aging treatments they got. But there was something in his bearing that made it obvious he was no innocent, even if she hadn't been acquainted, however vaguely, with his handling of the Sandeman annexation. He was, she decided, the sort of man she could respect--which meant she'd have to be careful not to let that feeling hinder her judgement during the negotiations.

She frowned when Medart, informed she'd been named negotiator, asked if she were available--long-distance negotiations didn't strike her as a good idea--but when Delayne replied that she was, she had no choice but to go to the ultrawave. "I am Colonel Cortin."

"Ranger James Medart," the man on the screen replied. "Pleased to meet you, Colonel. I'm also pleased to hear you'll be the one I'll be talking to. Do you have any objection to Captain DeLayne and his crew acting as Special Liaison until I get there?"

"I would appreciate their assistance, though I am not sure what you mean by Special Liaison."

"In this case, a demonstration of what Imperials are really like," Medart said. "Maybe by the time I get there, you'll have decided we aren't the sort of monsters you've apparently been taught."

"That is possible," Cortin said. "I gather you do not intend to carry out our discussions long-distance?"

"No." Medart grinned. "All our experience says long-distance negotiations are much less productive than face-to-face ones, especially something that looks like it might be tricky--such as working with a culture I know nothing about. So I don't plan on anything except this type of talk, and that only if you insist; I prefer to get my data in person. If there's anything you think I can do to help, of course, don't hesitate, but I won't be able to go beyond advice. Unfortunately, even an IBC can't go over three lights per hour, and I'm over five hundred hours away."

Roughly three weeks, Cortin calculated. "I should be able to manage for that time; if not, I am the wrong person for this job. Until your arrival, then."

"Agreed. Medart out."

Cortin looked around, spotted one of her team and a couple of the Imperials watching TV, what looked like a news special. "Chuck!" she called. "What's up?"

"Aaron Spence's analysis of the Imperials' arrival and His Majesty's designation of you as the sole authority regarding them," the young man called back. "He doesn't like the first, but he's in favor of the latter, of course."

"Of course." Cortin chuckled. Spence was the only commentator who supported her completely, so he was naturally Family Cortin's favorite. But the fact that he'd gotten past the news to the analysis told her what she needed to know: her authority in regard to the Imperials was public knowledge. Odeon was done with the phone; she dialed the main spaceport, told its commander the Imperial scoutship was being transferred to Harmony Lodge, and asked him to connect her to its Bridge.

When that was done, she turned the phone over to DeLayne and listened as he gave the necessary orders for its move to her estate. She wasn't sure that was the right move, but with the Brotherhood becoming increasingly active, it seemed the safest one. Her team, the Imperial Marines she knew better than to underestimate, and possibly-- "Mike, did you get through to Brad?"

"Uh-huh. He'll be glad to lend us any local Strike Force troops not otherwise occupied--though he warns you he may need to take 'em back if the Brothers stage any more terror raids--and says to tell you he's asking all the Strike Force priests to include you in their Mass intentions until further notice. Which Dave and I, at least, will do gladly."

Cortin grinned at him. "All of which I'm grateful for. I'll have to thank him personally next time he comes over--did he give you any idea how soon they'll start arriving?"

"About an hour," Odeon replied. "Shelters will be here about an hour after that. I told Matthew to have the groundskeepers get things ready."

"Good. That should be after the Columbus lands--or will she need more time, Captain DeLayne?"

"Less, Colonel. She should be airborne by now, landing any minute. Scouts sometimes have to lift off at almost no notice, so regulations forbid a complete engine shutdown outside Imperial space."

"Sensible," Cortin agreed. "I seldom get to watch spacecraft land; would it be safe to go out and watch yours?"

"I don't see why not, as long as we stay close to the house."

* * * * *

Even a small spacecraft was large--fitting hyperdrive in anything less than a hundred meters long seemed to be impossible--and Cortin knew this scout was one of the smallest of the Imperial ship classes. But that didn't seem to help as she watched it descend into her side yard. Nothing that big should be able to move under its own power!

But it did, settling slowly onto the grass, sinking until she wasn't sure it would ever stop. Finally, though, it did, and she thought ruefully that her head gardener was probably wishing her in Hell for what she'd done to his beloved lawn. And this wouldn't be the worst of it; the entire estate grounds would soon be a mess, with troops camped and living on them. Well, so be it; she'd been consigned to Hell often enough, especially by the Brothers and assorted other terrorists and criminals.

When the ship's main hatch opened, DeLayne turned to her. "Normally I wouldn't invite someone from outside the Empire aboard my ship, but under the circumstances, you're welcome any time." He grinned at her. "Someone who's called for Imperial help isn't going to sabotage us, after all."

"Quite true, and I'd like to take advantage of your offer when time permits, but His Majesty didn't say anything about my workload being reduced. So until he does, or Ranger Medart arrives and I don't have time for anything else, I think I should keep to my usual schedule."

"Or lack of it," Odeon put in.

"Or lack of it," Cortin agreed. "As active as the Brotherhood's been of late, I don't get much time off; my only semi-free day is Sunday. If you have no objection, I would like to visit then."

"As I said, you'll be welcome any time." DeLayne hesitated. "You've mentioned this Brotherhood several times, in context that makes it sound like it could be a threat to my crew. What is it?"

"The Brotherhood of Freedom," Cortin said. "They're a collection of terrorists, the worst in our history. Their leader, Lawrence Shannon, ordered them to disband before he disappeared about four months ago, but except for a few low-ranking ones, that didn't happen. Yes, they could be a threat to your people. I doubt they'd be stupid enough to attack Harmony Lodge, though I prefer not to take chances--which is why I wanted the extra Strike Force troopers. Outside the grounds is likely to be a different story, though, so I'd strongly recommend any of your people leaving the compound have at least one trooper with them, and that they be armed. If they are attacked, I'd appreciate it if they'd shoot to wound, rather than to kill; we can't get information from the dead."

"We can do that easily enough," DeLayne said. "I'll order blasters set on stun--with that request, I gather you don't have that option?"

"Bullets don't stun, no," Cortin said. "You intrigue me--could I try one of those blasters?"

"I don't see why not," DeLayne replied. "The ship wouldn't let your people into our armory, so we have plenty. Let me get my quartermaster to bring you one."

"I'll be glad to do it, sir," Conley put in.

"Very well, Miss Conley. Have it logged as a permanent transfer, along with a spare powerpack and charger."

"Yes, sir." Conley boarded the ship, emerging moments later with the specified equipment, as well as a holster and pouch for the blaster and spare powerpack. She handed them to Cortin, smiling. "I'll be glad to show you how to use them, if you'd like."

"I would, if your Captain doesn't mind."

"No objection," DeLayne said. "In fact, if you don't mind, I'd like to appoint her as our individual Special Liaison from the Empire to the Kingdom Systems until Ranger Medart arrives. She can stay at your Lodge, but I think the rest of us should go back to living on the Columbus."

"If you wish, Captain." Cortin smiled at the young woman. "But the final decision will have to be yours, Miss Conley. I should warn you, associating with an Inquisitor will do nothing to improve your social standing in the Systems; we may be respected, but we certainly aren't popular."

Conley laughed. "Since I won't be in the Systems long, I'm not worried--I'd love to learn what I can about you and your people, and--" she glanced at her Captain, hesitating.

"And a stint as Special Liaison would look good on your record, I would imagine." Cortin chuckled. "We share that much, at least. Consider yourself accredited, Miss Conley. And Family Cortin's guest, until your superiors require you to return to your duties."

"I'd like that--thank you, Excellency. When would you like to learn how to use your blaster?"

"As soon as I can. What facilities do you need?"

"A standard target range will do fine for the blaster function. If you want the stun function demonstrated, you'll need a volunteer and some good strong headache medications."

Cortin frowned. "I thought stunning wasn't harmful."

"It isn't," Conley said. "At least, it doesn't do any physical damage--unless the fall itself injures you, of course. But it does leave you with a nasty migraine for most of a day."

"Interesting," Cortin said thoughtfully. A weapon that caused pain without injuring its target sounded like an extremely useful tool for an Inquisitor. "Does it cause actual unconsciousness, or is it the pain itself that's incapacitating?"

"At standard intensity, it causes about four hours' unconsciousness. The headache's just a side effect we can't seem to get rid of."

That was even more interesting, Cortin thought. If Kingdoms scientists could isolate the "side effect" and eliminate the unconsciousness, the severe migraine would do very nicely to intensify an Inquisitor's other attentions. She didn't want to upset the young Imperial with that line of thought, though. "I should be able to find a suitable test subject," she said. "Not right now, though; I need to get to work. Let's go back inside; you can explain the controls, then I can familiarize myself with it if I get any breaks."

"Just a moment, please, Excellency," Odeon said. "I know you're busy, but there are going to be a lot of troopers here soon, and if the Imperials go into town, they may stop at the joyhouses; don't you think they ought to know about our favorite plague?"

"Plague!" DeLayne exclaimed, his expression horrified.

Cortin chuckled. "Yes--the only one I know of that most people wanted to catch. But you might not want to export it to the Empire, so Captain Odeon's right; I ought to warn you. It's called the satyr plague, which should give you some idea of its nature."

DeLayne nodded. "I think so--but I don't care to guess at the details, so tell me about it, please. And what a large number of troopers has to do with it."

"The troopers first," Cortin said. "Because of the hazardous nature of our work, the Royal Enforcement Services have both Church and civil dispensations from the sexual restrictions that apply to everyone else--except their partners at the time, of course. So they won't have any hesitation asking any of your people they find attractive, or accepting offers from them. The joyhouses don't have that dispensation yet, but since the plague appeared, working in or patronizing them's no more than a venial sin and a misdemeanor the RES pays attention to only if there's a complaint; we have far more serious crimes to worry about.

"The plague itself, of course, is sexually transmitted. There's no danger of infection from casual contact, only about a one percent chance from kissing, but the odds improve with the intimacy of contact. As far as we can tell, intercourse with someone who has the plague guarantees you'll get it; other genital contact is high-probability but not certain."

"But what does it do?" Conley asked.

Cortin grinned at Odeon, who answered. "What it does, Miss Conley, is increase both sexual desire and capability. That's most noticeable in men, though it affects women as well. As you can probably imagine, it's had quite an effect on our society the last three decades."

"What about immunization or a cure?" DeLayne asked.

"Who'd want it?" Odeon asked in reply. "I damnsure wouldn't; I like what it's done for me. And for our wives and Family head."

DeLayne raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "We'll work on both, then, if you could provide a blood sample from someone who's infected."

"How big a sample?"

"A few drops should be enough." DeLayne grinned. "Scouts may be small, but we get state of the art medical equipment, and people to use it who want a challenge."

Odeon turned to Cortin. "If you don't mind, Colonel, I'll give him his sample, then come help you."

"Fine. Take as long as you want, maybe get a tour of the ship." She paused, thinking. "Yes . . . under the circumstances, I think I'd better change your primary duty." She turned to DeLayne. "Captain Odeon has been studying your Empire as well as possible from comm intercepts and what's left of our Founders' records. If you're willing to loan him books or have some of your people talk to him, I'd like to make those studies his top priority. He can then brief me on whatever he considers important."

DeLayne nodded. "Comm intercepts and fragmentary records won't give you very good information, especially since your Founders obviously weren't at all fond of the Empire--I'll be glad to help him learn as much as he wants." He turned to Odeon, grinning. "Come on, Captain--we'll go by Sickbay for the blood samples, then I'll give you a ship tour and introduce you to teaching tapes. Can you read Imperial English?"

Odeon looked up at the ship's name as he followed DeLayne up the gangplank, then shook his head ruefully. "If that's a sample, no--I can recognize most of the letters, but they don't make sense."

"Easy enough to remedy." DeLayne saluted the armed guard at the hatch. "Permission to come aboard, sir? Myself and one of our hosts."

The woman returned his salute. "Granted, sir. Are you permitting him aboard armed?"

"Yes. And no one's to leave this estate--definitely not the compound--unarmed. I'll make that--"

"Captain?" Odeon interrupted.

"Yes?"

"If I were you, I'd have them armed any time they leave the ship. And I'd have Miss Conley sent one of those blasters as soon as possible."

DeLayne frowned. "The Brotherhood's that dangerous?"

"Probably not here at the Lodge, as Colonel Cortin said--but we don't know how they'll react to the Empire's presence, and I don't think we should take any chances."

"Neither do I. Okay, I'll make the announcement and put it in the standing orders." DeLayne turned to the guard. "No one's to leave the ship without a sidearm, Corporal; pass that on to your relief. I'll make the all-hands announcement as soon as I show Captain Odeon to Sickbay."

"Aye, sir."