SECURE LOCATION DESIGNATE HATSUYUKI
PROBABLE LOCATION: WITHIN ROSS 614 SYSTEM
BEGIN TRANSCRIPT
EXECUTOR LEUCHTNER: Gentlemen, this is our target. The “C” moon of the sole planet orbiting the nearby em-four designated Hipparcos-Yale-Gliese-Eight-Six-Two-Two-Six; for about three years now, it has served as a naval outpost and carbon harvesting station for the Allied Military. It is only four-point-eight-nine light years away from, and thus well within jump range of, our closest military assets at Vee-Five-Seventy-Seven-Mono.
VIZIER CORDERO: That’s quite a mouthful, Lord Executor… Hipparcos-Yale-Gliese-what-the-what?
VIZIER CANTRELL: It’s En-En-Three-Three-Seven-Nine, José. The official designation.
CORDERO: It is? Oh right.
VIZIER TAMBOR: A naval outpost? In an em-four system?
LEUCHTNER: Yes; it supports liquids, but I didn’t say water. A highly pressurized atmosphere, combined with an unusually thick ozone layer, ensures near-constant precipitation of a carbon-rich gelatin-like substance comprised mostly of low-toxicity primordial acids and compounds ideal for food production.
TAMBOR: And can people live there?
LEUCHNTER: Oh, good lord, no. The atmosphere is over eighty per cent see-oh-two. Unbreatheable, completely. The Ay-Ar-Em ships prospectors and workers back and forth from nearby systems, most of them from Gliese Two-Oh-Five. They’ve offered incentives in the form of land, er, excuse me, gel rights, and so far, they’ve been fairly successful. The moon has a seasonal population of two-million-eight-hundred-and-sixty-two-thousand-and-one, according to our source in the Gliese Two-Two-Nine Trade and Shipping Conglomerate.
CORDERO: And what in God’s name would we want with this desolate hellhole?
LEUCHTNER: I-
CANTRELL: Don’t answer that, Lord Executor, allow me. We want it because the Emperor wants it, and because He wants us to want it. May He serve us as we serve Him; may the Transition and the Abdication be as swift as our wait for it is short.
VIZIER ORSON: Gentlemen, to the Transition.
ALL: TO THE TRANSITION. MAY IT BE SWIFT.
LEUCHTNER: Yes. On a practical note, the conquest of Three-Seventy-Nine would certainly be in anticipation for the Great Transition. We cannot reach Earth without going through the Allied worlds, and it is time we stopped wasting our resources chipping away at inconsequentials like Blake and the Confederates. I for one support the Emperor wholeheartedly in this decree, although I will admit that seeing the Allies brought to their knees for the folly they practice does give me a certain private pleasure. The idea that anyone but our Emperor has the right or will to govern Earth is as short-sighted and erroneous as their belief that man can thrive out here in this blackness. Earth is home, and Earth is the only home.
CORDERO: To their knees? But surely, Lord Executor, once the Transferral is achieved, and the Abdication complete, all men will be free to dwell on Earth in peace, yes?
LEUCHTNER: Yes. Yes, of course. Peace.
TAMBOR: Excuse me, but who will lead the assault? This… ‘gelatinous’ terrain sounds like it’ll need a special touch…
LEUCHTNER: Yes, I have cross-referenced the highest officers of the Imperial Navy, and due to his excellence in the defense of Luyten's Star, I have nominated Admiral Kurt bin Hassan for the task. The decision merely awaits the Emperor’s approval.
ORSON: And ours! Or have we no say in such a pivotal matter?
CORDERO: As I remember, Admiral Hassan lost four Warlord-class vessels in that battle, as well as several of those new experimental submarines, the, uh-
CANTRELL: Leviathan-class.
CORDERO: …yes, thank you. What say you to that, Lord Executor?
TAMBOR: There is also the small matter of the citizenry whose protection bin Hassan is currently charged with. If Luyten's Star falls to Blake, then Procyon might be threatened, and from there it's just a short hop to Sirius and-
CANTRELL: Micromanagement to the extreme, but my colleague has a point. Hassan was soundly beaten by Blake in the initial engagement; only when reinforcements arrived from Procyon did the battle begin to turn in our favor.
LEUCHTNER: Understood, Vizier, but Admiral bin Hassan is the only man in the fleet who has fought a protracted battle in such an environment. He is the only real choice.
(indistinct whispering)
TAMBOR: And how much of the moon’s surface is composed of this stuff?
LEUCHTNER: About forty per cent. The rest consists of high-acetate ‘islands’ of congealed mineral deposits, overgrown with local vegetation.
CORDERO: Jesus. This place sounds just lovely.
CANTRELL: Could the battle be fought with aitch-sees?
LEUCHTNER: Absolutely not. The fiasco at Gliese Seven-Eight-Three showed that hovercraft simply do not have what it takes to go up against the heavy naval vessels and surface defenses that the Ay-Ar-Em are sure to have.
CORDERO: There seems to be… little we can say to persuade you otherwise, Lord Executor. Go with God, and may the Transition be swift for you.
CANTRELL: Indeed.
LEUCHTNER: Thank you, Viziers.
ULTRA-ENCRYPT ACTIVATED
CLEARANCE CODE ALPHA-GAMMA-GAMMA; SECURE TRANSMIT ONLY
CAPTURE OBTAINED AT GREAT TRANSITIONAL TEMPLE, FIRST ISLAND, TRUNCATIS, COLLAR BELL, 9 ALPHA CANIS MINORIS SYSTEM
ADMIRAL bin HASSAN: …and that concludes my observations, Lord Emperor. Suffice it to say, that the Allies will put up a fight, but with the resources and fast-strike capability of an Imperial fleet bearing down on them, they will lose.
EMPEROR ARMAND: Very good, Admiral. You may retire, and think Transitional thoughts.
bin HASSAN: Thank you, Lord Emperor.
PREFECT LANCASTER: Would you care for something, Lord Emperor? A snack, or some synthevision, perhaps?
ARMAND: No, thank you, Prefect; I’m fine.
LANCASTER: Ah, very good, Lord Emperor. (pause) Is something the matter, Lord Emperor?
ARMAND: Hm? The matter? Nothing, Prefect. Nothing at all. Except, of course, for the fact that I’m sitting eight-and-a-half light years and fourteen solar systems away from the planet I’m trying to get to, and I've just sent an utter fool to get us one tiny step on the way there, and I am fairly confident he will fail even to do that.
LANCASTER: Baby steps, Lord Emperor, baby steps. My father used to say that traveling from one place in the Hundred Worlds to a another was like stepping on stones to cross a stream.
ARMAND: I’m sick of these baby steps! It’s baby steps that got us out here in the first place, trying to recover inch upon inch of Earth while the Directorate snatched it out from under our noses like… like…
LANCASTER: …like they were taking candy from a baby, Lord Emperor?
ARMAND: Ach! What is it with you and babies, anyway? And yes, if by that you mean they took something that was rightfully ours. I conquered Earth, and while I was ridding her of her enemies, making sure it would never happen again, the Directorate, and my council – my own council! – decided the best course of action would be to start fighting another war over it. A war that everyone is losing, by the way… or have you not noticed how we all started dying a lot faster when we could not see the Sun every day?
LANCASTER: Yes, Lord Emperor. It is regrettable. (pause) But think of what you have, and what you have accomplished! Think of the billions of loyal followers who know that you will lead them to their destiny! Think of the great cities you’ve built, and the prosperity you’ve created, from nothing!
ARMAND: Prosperity? You call this prosperity? Have you looked upon your precious ‘prosperity’ lately?
LANCASTER: Wait, Lord Emperor, my goggles…
ARMAND: Come, Lancaster, and feast your eyes on all the fucking prosperity!
LANCASTER: Lord Emperor, your goggles, without them your eyes-
ARMAND: My eyes are still well enough to see the Sun at night, much to my misfortune. It’s just up there, in Aquila, in Jupiter’s fucking eagle. God, how I wish I could just… just reach up there and touch it.
LANCASTER: Lord Emperor, if you stay outside for too long without your goggles, your eyes-
ARMAND: And my eyes are certainly well enough to look over this cesspool of a city I have built. My God, man. I promised them a temporary reprieve, a place to wait for the Transition, but this… this I would wish on no-one. I have to get these people home, Lancaster.
LANCASTER: Lord Emperor, I really must insist, you are going to get starburn-
ARMAND: Yes, yes, yes, enough of your fretting. You are like a tired housewife, you know that, Lancaster. How you can be prefect over anything, much less the Transition, is beyond me.
LANCASTER: Oh, thank goodness. Next time, let me know when you’re going to open the door, and I can retrieve your goggles in time.
ARMAND: Yes. Now get me some wine, will you?
LANCASTER: But we really have to get you some hydrators and a cryosponge. If you don’t do something, you’re going to have a serious starburn on your-
ARMAND: I SAID GET ME WINE, YOU FUCKING IMBECILE. I couldn’t care less what my face looks like.
LANCASTER: …yes, Lord Emperor, right away, so sorry, many apologies.
NN 3323 SYSTEM A.R.M.I STEALTH RELAY REPORT LOG 375992668-99g5: ENCODED MASTER FOR FULL ENCRYPT
DEBRIEF VIA SYNTHEVISED A.R.M.I. DG SYSTEM
SINGLE REROUTE CONFIRMED
DOUBLE REROUTE CONFIRMED
TRIPLE REROUTE CONFIRMED
PLEASE WAIT, ESTABLISHING NEURO DOWNLOAD…
CONFIRMING DG STATUS…
DOPPELGANGER ESTABLISHED…
ENCRYPT COMMENCING…
BRENNAN: You there, Luca-chan?
MAZZOLA: Yeah, I’m here, Stas.
BRENNAN: Loved your tapes, beautiful stuff. Were you in there the whole time?
MAZZOLA: Most of it, yeah. I came on shift just as Hassan was finishing his report to Armand, so no deets there, sorry, and I had to skip out of the Viz-council thing when Leuchtner left. The Viziers don’t like to talk around guardsmen.
BRENNAN: Understandably. So what do you make of this Cantrell guy?
MAZZOLA: Sharp. Not as religious as he makes himself out to be. Ex-military, for damn sure.
BRENNAN: I’ll say. He was on the ball with those Leviathan subs, and no civvy-in-his-skivvies I ever met called a floater an ‘aitch-see.’
MAZZOLA: Any idea why they’re sending bin Hassan?
BRENNAN: I know! Right? Doesn’t make sense. I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on that one.
MAZZOLA: I dunno. I thought maybe Armand wanted to send an old-schooler, someone he could trust, but it’s clear even ‘the Great Abdicator’ doesn’t think much of bin Hassan.
BRENNAN: Pfft. ‘The Great Abdicator.’ Can you believe all this crap?
MAZZOLA: I dunno. I gotta say, as far as cults of personality go, it’s pretty smart. He sets himself up as the guy who’s just gonna turn it all over to the people, soon as he gets back to Earth, and he’s even made a religious event of doing it. No-one could possibly doubt he’s doing anything but filling a stop-gap role; he’s said nothing but. It’s the Viziers who’ve set him up as this ‘emperor’ figure. I guess it’s hard to turn a buck in an interim government without setting up some kind of bureaucracy to mooch off of.
BRENNAN: But that’s what makes Armand so smart, Luca. He creates an authoritarian system with no upper levels, and lets whoever wants to make up their own titles that he can then declare null and void at any time with the executive power he's got. He’s got the prefect there to keep the people happy, while the military has free reign with their tax dollars. He’s got it all set up so that when and if they win the final battle, they’re gonna pick him for leader no matter what, and until then, he’s sitting pretty on nine billion people all motivated to fight a war he knows they can’t ever win. I mean, we’re closer to Earth than he is, and we’ve still got to fight our way through the Maidenheads, Gliese Eight-Eighty-Seven, one or two Murasak systems and half of the Freehold to get there, and we aren’t even going there!
MAZZOLA: Yeah. Yeah.
BRENNAN: So anyway. Who’s on this Viz council, besides our boy Cantrell?
MAZZOLA: Uh, Cordero’s a dumbass, a mid-level bureaucrat skimming off Vee-Fifty-Seven-Mono export taxes while his governor runs literally dozens of smuggling ops under his nose.
BRENNAN: Heh.
MAZZOLA: Tambor used to be this hothead labour unionizer from the Luyten fisheries, but he’s pretty much Armand’s bitch now. He’s even got an estate in Oppidum and everything.
BRENNAN: Jeez, no wonder he was throwing a hissy fit about leaving the back door open for Blake’s boys… Sirius. You ever been to Oppidum? The miracle of terraforming, Luca-chan… would love me some of that.
MAZZOLA: Come liberation, Stanislav, come liberation.
BRENNAN: (laughs)
MAZZOLA: Aaaanyway, there’s Orson…
BRENNAN: Yup, religious nut.
MAZZOLA: …and Scopes, and think that about covers -
BRENNAN: Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold the phone. Scopes? As in Leslie Scopes, from the old Confederate Council? Grey hair, early sixties, hoverchair?
MAZZOLA: Yup, that’s her. Intell girl, from back in the day, right? Ran, uh Astro-something-or-other, some mucky-muck op to assess planetoids for military potential before the Moon War, right? What about her?
BRENNAN: She’s bad news, that’s what. Her agency was called Astrographic Asset Evaluation; Armee ran up against them all the time in the Kuiper and the Jovians back before the Cannon. She was a wunderkind, their star agent at twenty-five and running the show by thirty. Remember the Earth Initiative? How Blake got started, those bases on Callisto, Chaos and Ceres?
MAZZOLA: Yup?
BRENNAN: She found them, Luca. She set those up on what we thought was monitored territory. I mean, officially, Blake duped her into doing it, saying they were supposed to be for peacekeeping in the Rimworlds, but still, once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, you know. She damn near set up the whole Moon War.
MAZZOLA: Holy cow. What’s she doing sitting on Tcheky Armand’s Vizier Council?
BRENNAN: You tell me, Luca-chan, you tell me. Why wasn’t she on the transcript?
MAZZOLA: Didn’t say anything the whole time. Sat at the back, next to Tambor.
BRENNAN: Was it her doing the whispering when they were laying into Leuchtner for picking Hassan?
MAZZOLA: Yeah, I think so. You think she could have something to do with him getting picked?
BRENNAN: I dunno, but I smell Blake’s shit-stained fingerprints all over this.
MAZZOLA: Over what?
BRENNAN: Over Hassan, the attack on Three-Seven-Nine, over everything! Tambor piped up about leaving Dee-Ex and Luyten exposed, but no-one did anything about it. Who stands to gain from that?
MAZZOLA: Blake.
BRENNAN: The Empire’s gonna throw an attack our way, at a colony world over a parsec away from the nearest base, that we’ve no manpower to defend. Who’s gonna have free reign over the Rimworlds while we’re fighting them off and weakening both us and the Imps?
MAZZOLA:…right, Blake.
BRENNAN: Exactly. Find out what she said to Tambor, find out if she still has ties to Blake, and Luca?
MAZZOLA: Yeah?
BRENNAN: Stay safe. There may be a reason for her staying off-transcript besides hiding her southern drawl; she might know there’s a leak. In the meantime, Three-Seventy-Nine better commence puckering for an Imp assault, and it looks like Leuchtner’s given us our mole; if he really is in the Dec-Twenty-One Tee-Ess-See, he should stick out like a sore thumb. That place is staffed by Crossies and old-schoolers exclusively, with the occasional dumb blonde thrown in for color.
MAZZOLA: (chuckles)
BRENNAN: Can we count on this guy Leuchtner to be on the level? Awful convenient of him to give us this much to go on.
MAZZOLA: Oh yeah, that guy’s legit. He just likes to show off, he can’t resist one-upping Cantrell. I think they were both gunning for the job, and Leuchtner got it.
BRENNAN: Chatty son of a bitch, if nothing else.
MAZZOLA: He does like to talk.
BRENNAN: Don’t be a stranger, Luca-chan. Think Transitional thoughts.
MAZZOLA: Up yours too, Stas. Over and out.
ENCRYPT IN PROGRESS…
DG SYSTEM ON FULL STANDBY
FULL MEMORY DUMP COMMENCING
ENCRYPT COMPLETE
TRANSMISSION COMMENCING
TRANSMITTING…
TRANSMITTING…
TRANSMISSION RECEIVED: NN 3323 SYSTEM JUMP CANNON. CANNON PREP FOR IMMEDIATE DRONE DISPATCH. SEND.
PROBABLE LOCATION: WITHIN ROSS 614 SYSTEM
BEGIN TRANSCRIPT
EXECUTOR LEUCHTNER: Gentlemen, this is our target. The “C” moon of the sole planet orbiting the nearby em-four designated Hipparcos-Yale-Gliese-Eight-Six-Two-Two-Six; for about three years now, it has served as a naval outpost and carbon harvesting station for the Allied Military. It is only four-point-eight-nine light years away from, and thus well within jump range of, our closest military assets at Vee-Five-Seventy-Seven-Mono.
VIZIER CORDERO: That’s quite a mouthful, Lord Executor… Hipparcos-Yale-Gliese-what-the-what?
VIZIER CANTRELL: It’s En-En-Three-Three-Seven-Nine, José. The official designation.
CORDERO: It is? Oh right.
VIZIER TAMBOR: A naval outpost? In an em-four system?
LEUCHTNER: Yes; it supports liquids, but I didn’t say water. A highly pressurized atmosphere, combined with an unusually thick ozone layer, ensures near-constant precipitation of a carbon-rich gelatin-like substance comprised mostly of low-toxicity primordial acids and compounds ideal for food production.
TAMBOR: And can people live there?
LEUCHNTER: Oh, good lord, no. The atmosphere is over eighty per cent see-oh-two. Unbreatheable, completely. The Ay-Ar-Em ships prospectors and workers back and forth from nearby systems, most of them from Gliese Two-Oh-Five. They’ve offered incentives in the form of land, er, excuse me, gel rights, and so far, they’ve been fairly successful. The moon has a seasonal population of two-million-eight-hundred-and-sixty-two-thousand-and-one, according to our source in the Gliese Two-Two-Nine Trade and Shipping Conglomerate.
CORDERO: And what in God’s name would we want with this desolate hellhole?
LEUCHTNER: I-
CANTRELL: Don’t answer that, Lord Executor, allow me. We want it because the Emperor wants it, and because He wants us to want it. May He serve us as we serve Him; may the Transition and the Abdication be as swift as our wait for it is short.
VIZIER ORSON: Gentlemen, to the Transition.
ALL: TO THE TRANSITION. MAY IT BE SWIFT.
LEUCHTNER: Yes. On a practical note, the conquest of Three-Seventy-Nine would certainly be in anticipation for the Great Transition. We cannot reach Earth without going through the Allied worlds, and it is time we stopped wasting our resources chipping away at inconsequentials like Blake and the Confederates. I for one support the Emperor wholeheartedly in this decree, although I will admit that seeing the Allies brought to their knees for the folly they practice does give me a certain private pleasure. The idea that anyone but our Emperor has the right or will to govern Earth is as short-sighted and erroneous as their belief that man can thrive out here in this blackness. Earth is home, and Earth is the only home.
CORDERO: To their knees? But surely, Lord Executor, once the Transferral is achieved, and the Abdication complete, all men will be free to dwell on Earth in peace, yes?
LEUCHTNER: Yes. Yes, of course. Peace.
TAMBOR: Excuse me, but who will lead the assault? This… ‘gelatinous’ terrain sounds like it’ll need a special touch…
LEUCHTNER: Yes, I have cross-referenced the highest officers of the Imperial Navy, and due to his excellence in the defense of Luyten's Star, I have nominated Admiral Kurt bin Hassan for the task. The decision merely awaits the Emperor’s approval.
ORSON: And ours! Or have we no say in such a pivotal matter?
CORDERO: As I remember, Admiral Hassan lost four Warlord-class vessels in that battle, as well as several of those new experimental submarines, the, uh-
CANTRELL: Leviathan-class.
CORDERO: …yes, thank you. What say you to that, Lord Executor?
TAMBOR: There is also the small matter of the citizenry whose protection bin Hassan is currently charged with. If Luyten's Star falls to Blake, then Procyon might be threatened, and from there it's just a short hop to Sirius and-
CANTRELL: Micromanagement to the extreme, but my colleague has a point. Hassan was soundly beaten by Blake in the initial engagement; only when reinforcements arrived from Procyon did the battle begin to turn in our favor.
LEUCHTNER: Understood, Vizier, but Admiral bin Hassan is the only man in the fleet who has fought a protracted battle in such an environment. He is the only real choice.
(indistinct whispering)
TAMBOR: And how much of the moon’s surface is composed of this stuff?
LEUCHTNER: About forty per cent. The rest consists of high-acetate ‘islands’ of congealed mineral deposits, overgrown with local vegetation.
CORDERO: Jesus. This place sounds just lovely.
CANTRELL: Could the battle be fought with aitch-sees?
LEUCHTNER: Absolutely not. The fiasco at Gliese Seven-Eight-Three showed that hovercraft simply do not have what it takes to go up against the heavy naval vessels and surface defenses that the Ay-Ar-Em are sure to have.
CORDERO: There seems to be… little we can say to persuade you otherwise, Lord Executor. Go with God, and may the Transition be swift for you.
CANTRELL: Indeed.
LEUCHTNER: Thank you, Viziers.
ULTRA-ENCRYPT ACTIVATED
CLEARANCE CODE ALPHA-GAMMA-GAMMA; SECURE TRANSMIT ONLY
CAPTURE OBTAINED AT GREAT TRANSITIONAL TEMPLE, FIRST ISLAND, TRUNCATIS, COLLAR BELL, 9 ALPHA CANIS MINORIS SYSTEM
ADMIRAL bin HASSAN: …and that concludes my observations, Lord Emperor. Suffice it to say, that the Allies will put up a fight, but with the resources and fast-strike capability of an Imperial fleet bearing down on them, they will lose.
EMPEROR ARMAND: Very good, Admiral. You may retire, and think Transitional thoughts.
bin HASSAN: Thank you, Lord Emperor.
PREFECT LANCASTER: Would you care for something, Lord Emperor? A snack, or some synthevision, perhaps?
ARMAND: No, thank you, Prefect; I’m fine.
LANCASTER: Ah, very good, Lord Emperor. (pause) Is something the matter, Lord Emperor?
ARMAND: Hm? The matter? Nothing, Prefect. Nothing at all. Except, of course, for the fact that I’m sitting eight-and-a-half light years and fourteen solar systems away from the planet I’m trying to get to, and I've just sent an utter fool to get us one tiny step on the way there, and I am fairly confident he will fail even to do that.
LANCASTER: Baby steps, Lord Emperor, baby steps. My father used to say that traveling from one place in the Hundred Worlds to a another was like stepping on stones to cross a stream.
ARMAND: I’m sick of these baby steps! It’s baby steps that got us out here in the first place, trying to recover inch upon inch of Earth while the Directorate snatched it out from under our noses like… like…
LANCASTER: …like they were taking candy from a baby, Lord Emperor?
ARMAND: Ach! What is it with you and babies, anyway? And yes, if by that you mean they took something that was rightfully ours. I conquered Earth, and while I was ridding her of her enemies, making sure it would never happen again, the Directorate, and my council – my own council! – decided the best course of action would be to start fighting another war over it. A war that everyone is losing, by the way… or have you not noticed how we all started dying a lot faster when we could not see the Sun every day?
LANCASTER: Yes, Lord Emperor. It is regrettable. (pause) But think of what you have, and what you have accomplished! Think of the billions of loyal followers who know that you will lead them to their destiny! Think of the great cities you’ve built, and the prosperity you’ve created, from nothing!
ARMAND: Prosperity? You call this prosperity? Have you looked upon your precious ‘prosperity’ lately?
LANCASTER: Wait, Lord Emperor, my goggles…
ARMAND: Come, Lancaster, and feast your eyes on all the fucking prosperity!
LANCASTER: Lord Emperor, your goggles, without them your eyes-
ARMAND: My eyes are still well enough to see the Sun at night, much to my misfortune. It’s just up there, in Aquila, in Jupiter’s fucking eagle. God, how I wish I could just… just reach up there and touch it.
LANCASTER: Lord Emperor, if you stay outside for too long without your goggles, your eyes-
ARMAND: And my eyes are certainly well enough to look over this cesspool of a city I have built. My God, man. I promised them a temporary reprieve, a place to wait for the Transition, but this… this I would wish on no-one. I have to get these people home, Lancaster.
LANCASTER: Lord Emperor, I really must insist, you are going to get starburn-
ARMAND: Yes, yes, yes, enough of your fretting. You are like a tired housewife, you know that, Lancaster. How you can be prefect over anything, much less the Transition, is beyond me.
LANCASTER: Oh, thank goodness. Next time, let me know when you’re going to open the door, and I can retrieve your goggles in time.
ARMAND: Yes. Now get me some wine, will you?
LANCASTER: But we really have to get you some hydrators and a cryosponge. If you don’t do something, you’re going to have a serious starburn on your-
ARMAND: I SAID GET ME WINE, YOU FUCKING IMBECILE. I couldn’t care less what my face looks like.
LANCASTER: …yes, Lord Emperor, right away, so sorry, many apologies.
NN 3323 SYSTEM A.R.M.I STEALTH RELAY REPORT LOG 375992668-99g5: ENCODED MASTER FOR FULL ENCRYPT
DEBRIEF VIA SYNTHEVISED A.R.M.I. DG SYSTEM
SINGLE REROUTE CONFIRMED
DOUBLE REROUTE CONFIRMED
TRIPLE REROUTE CONFIRMED
PLEASE WAIT, ESTABLISHING NEURO DOWNLOAD…
CONFIRMING DG STATUS…
DOPPELGANGER ESTABLISHED…
ENCRYPT COMMENCING…
BRENNAN: You there, Luca-chan?
MAZZOLA: Yeah, I’m here, Stas.
BRENNAN: Loved your tapes, beautiful stuff. Were you in there the whole time?
MAZZOLA: Most of it, yeah. I came on shift just as Hassan was finishing his report to Armand, so no deets there, sorry, and I had to skip out of the Viz-council thing when Leuchtner left. The Viziers don’t like to talk around guardsmen.
BRENNAN: Understandably. So what do you make of this Cantrell guy?
MAZZOLA: Sharp. Not as religious as he makes himself out to be. Ex-military, for damn sure.
BRENNAN: I’ll say. He was on the ball with those Leviathan subs, and no civvy-in-his-skivvies I ever met called a floater an ‘aitch-see.’
MAZZOLA: Any idea why they’re sending bin Hassan?
BRENNAN: I know! Right? Doesn’t make sense. I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on that one.
MAZZOLA: I dunno. I thought maybe Armand wanted to send an old-schooler, someone he could trust, but it’s clear even ‘the Great Abdicator’ doesn’t think much of bin Hassan.
BRENNAN: Pfft. ‘The Great Abdicator.’ Can you believe all this crap?
MAZZOLA: I dunno. I gotta say, as far as cults of personality go, it’s pretty smart. He sets himself up as the guy who’s just gonna turn it all over to the people, soon as he gets back to Earth, and he’s even made a religious event of doing it. No-one could possibly doubt he’s doing anything but filling a stop-gap role; he’s said nothing but. It’s the Viziers who’ve set him up as this ‘emperor’ figure. I guess it’s hard to turn a buck in an interim government without setting up some kind of bureaucracy to mooch off of.
BRENNAN: But that’s what makes Armand so smart, Luca. He creates an authoritarian system with no upper levels, and lets whoever wants to make up their own titles that he can then declare null and void at any time with the executive power he's got. He’s got the prefect there to keep the people happy, while the military has free reign with their tax dollars. He’s got it all set up so that when and if they win the final battle, they’re gonna pick him for leader no matter what, and until then, he’s sitting pretty on nine billion people all motivated to fight a war he knows they can’t ever win. I mean, we’re closer to Earth than he is, and we’ve still got to fight our way through the Maidenheads, Gliese Eight-Eighty-Seven, one or two Murasak systems and half of the Freehold to get there, and we aren’t even going there!
MAZZOLA: Yeah. Yeah.
BRENNAN: So anyway. Who’s on this Viz council, besides our boy Cantrell?
MAZZOLA: Uh, Cordero’s a dumbass, a mid-level bureaucrat skimming off Vee-Fifty-Seven-Mono export taxes while his governor runs literally dozens of smuggling ops under his nose.
BRENNAN: Heh.
MAZZOLA: Tambor used to be this hothead labour unionizer from the Luyten fisheries, but he’s pretty much Armand’s bitch now. He’s even got an estate in Oppidum and everything.
BRENNAN: Jeez, no wonder he was throwing a hissy fit about leaving the back door open for Blake’s boys… Sirius. You ever been to Oppidum? The miracle of terraforming, Luca-chan… would love me some of that.
MAZZOLA: Come liberation, Stanislav, come liberation.
BRENNAN: (laughs)
MAZZOLA: Aaaanyway, there’s Orson…
BRENNAN: Yup, religious nut.
MAZZOLA: …and Scopes, and think that about covers -
BRENNAN: Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold the phone. Scopes? As in Leslie Scopes, from the old Confederate Council? Grey hair, early sixties, hoverchair?
MAZZOLA: Yup, that’s her. Intell girl, from back in the day, right? Ran, uh Astro-something-or-other, some mucky-muck op to assess planetoids for military potential before the Moon War, right? What about her?
BRENNAN: She’s bad news, that’s what. Her agency was called Astrographic Asset Evaluation; Armee ran up against them all the time in the Kuiper and the Jovians back before the Cannon. She was a wunderkind, their star agent at twenty-five and running the show by thirty. Remember the Earth Initiative? How Blake got started, those bases on Callisto, Chaos and Ceres?
MAZZOLA: Yup?
BRENNAN: She found them, Luca. She set those up on what we thought was monitored territory. I mean, officially, Blake duped her into doing it, saying they were supposed to be for peacekeeping in the Rimworlds, but still, once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, you know. She damn near set up the whole Moon War.
MAZZOLA: Holy cow. What’s she doing sitting on Tcheky Armand’s Vizier Council?
BRENNAN: You tell me, Luca-chan, you tell me. Why wasn’t she on the transcript?
MAZZOLA: Didn’t say anything the whole time. Sat at the back, next to Tambor.
BRENNAN: Was it her doing the whispering when they were laying into Leuchtner for picking Hassan?
MAZZOLA: Yeah, I think so. You think she could have something to do with him getting picked?
BRENNAN: I dunno, but I smell Blake’s shit-stained fingerprints all over this.
MAZZOLA: Over what?
BRENNAN: Over Hassan, the attack on Three-Seven-Nine, over everything! Tambor piped up about leaving Dee-Ex and Luyten exposed, but no-one did anything about it. Who stands to gain from that?
MAZZOLA: Blake.
BRENNAN: The Empire’s gonna throw an attack our way, at a colony world over a parsec away from the nearest base, that we’ve no manpower to defend. Who’s gonna have free reign over the Rimworlds while we’re fighting them off and weakening both us and the Imps?
MAZZOLA:…right, Blake.
BRENNAN: Exactly. Find out what she said to Tambor, find out if she still has ties to Blake, and Luca?
MAZZOLA: Yeah?
BRENNAN: Stay safe. There may be a reason for her staying off-transcript besides hiding her southern drawl; she might know there’s a leak. In the meantime, Three-Seventy-Nine better commence puckering for an Imp assault, and it looks like Leuchtner’s given us our mole; if he really is in the Dec-Twenty-One Tee-Ess-See, he should stick out like a sore thumb. That place is staffed by Crossies and old-schoolers exclusively, with the occasional dumb blonde thrown in for color.
MAZZOLA: (chuckles)
BRENNAN: Can we count on this guy Leuchtner to be on the level? Awful convenient of him to give us this much to go on.
MAZZOLA: Oh yeah, that guy’s legit. He just likes to show off, he can’t resist one-upping Cantrell. I think they were both gunning for the job, and Leuchtner got it.
BRENNAN: Chatty son of a bitch, if nothing else.
MAZZOLA: He does like to talk.
BRENNAN: Don’t be a stranger, Luca-chan. Think Transitional thoughts.
MAZZOLA: Up yours too, Stas. Over and out.
ENCRYPT IN PROGRESS…
DG SYSTEM ON FULL STANDBY
FULL MEMORY DUMP COMMENCING
ENCRYPT COMPLETE
TRANSMISSION COMMENCING
TRANSMITTING…
TRANSMITTING…
TRANSMISSION RECEIVED: NN 3323 SYSTEM JUMP CANNON. CANNON PREP FOR IMMEDIATE DRONE DISPATCH. SEND.
