emphasized the beauty of her body quite nicely, Jules noticed with a smile. She came
straight over to him, put her slender arms about his waist and gave him a warm hello
kiss. “It’s good to see you again,” she said in Empirese, the Russian-English mixture that
was the Galaxy’s official language. “How’s your leg, Jules?.
Jules reached down and patted his left calf. “Almost as good as new. Those
regeneratives the doctors have now are incredible. They tell me that in another month or
two I’ll never even know I was blaster-burned.” He and his sister spoke Empirese as
flawlessly as DesPlainian.
“Glad to hear it. You fought too gallantly there to deserve a permanently gimpy leg.”
Helena turned her attentions to Yvette, embracing her as well and exchanging pecks on
the cheek. “And how are you, my darling Evie?.
“Fine physically, but impatient I’m afraid. Vacations are smooth for a while, but they can
get boring too quickly if there’s no work in between. I’m dying for some action.
“You’ll get it,” Helena promised. “There’s no shortage of work for any of us. Father just
wanted to make sure you were all recovered from that last bout before sending you out
again. You’d better follow me now; he’s waiting for us.
Helena led the way down the maze of corridors that honeycombed the ship. Jules and
Yvette were astounded at just how luxurious a space yacht this size could be. Paintings
by some of the Galaxy’s most famous artists were set in niches along the hallways. One
long corridor wall, extending more than fifteen meters, was a single mural depicting a
breathtaking sunset across a plain on some alien world. Holobiles, those
three-dimensional color laser images, hung from the ceiling, their abstract shapes
revolving in an imaginary wind. The air smelled faintly of jasmine, though the scent was
subtly different.
But the surprising thing was that they encountered no other people along their path. The
corridors had the feel of well-traveled routes, yet not a soul was anywhere to be seen.
Their three pairs of footsteps echoed hollowly against the metal walls that lined the
passages.
When Jules remarked on their solitude, their guide nodded and summed up the situation
in one word: “Security. The Anna has a crew of over three hundred, but we had these
corridors sealed off for you. Remember, you’re our secret weapons; even though
everyone aboard is trustworthy plus, we don’t want your faces even associated with
SOTE if we can avoid it. The fewer people who know your connection, the safer you’ll
be. “Here we are now,” she continued, leading the d’Alemberts up to a plain metal doer
labeled simply “Room 10.” “This is where everything comes together. Father thought we
could talk here in the most secrecy.
As the door slid open, it revealed to the two agents a room that awed them with both its
size and its functional beauty. Cylindrical in shape, the chamber had a diameter of fifteen
meters and extended upwards for ten. Along the walls a spiral rampway led from the
floor to the ceiling, with banks of computer terminals and readout screens spaced closely
together along the ramp. Doors at various levels led out to other parts of this immense
spaceship, for this was obviously the nexus of all activity aboard.
Seated at a small console in the center of the floor, looking dwarfed by the empty
vastness of this nerve center, sat Grand Duke Zander von Wilmenhorst, the Head of the
Service of the Empire. The conservative navy blue body-tunic he wore seemed to make
him even more anachronistic in this overwhelming room of flashing lights and rampant
technology. His basic humanity was out of place amid these machines.
Physically he was rather ordinary in appearance, being of medium height and build, but
his almost totally bald head gleamed in the bright lights. It was his eyes, though, that
were his most outstanding feature, for they could not disguise, even to the most casual
observer, the overwhelming intelligence that lay within that skull. Zander von Wilmenhorst
was the master tactician of the Galaxy which was why he headed the Emperors most
select group of agents.
But at this moment the Head chose to be neither a grand duke nor a boss; he greeted
Jules and Yvette almost as his own nephew and niece. “It’s good to see you both again,
and looking so healthy,” he said after gallantly kissing Yvette’s hand and shaking Jules’
firmly. “I apologize for the sumptuous surroundings; I prefer doing business in my office,
but this was the most secure spot on the ship and the two of you merit the best. I
sometimes get to play admiral here.
Yvette looked around and could indeed visualize the room as it might look during a crisis
situation: hundreds of men and women bustling to and from their battle stations, the low
buzz of continental conversation, the clacking of feet upon the metal flooring, the quiet
chaos of a communications center. And in the very middle of it all, supervising every
minute detail would be the Head himself, eyes gleaming as he snapped out each quick
order.
She blinked and the scene vanished. There were just the four of them here—four friends
in casual conversation. The Head guided them over to some chairs and they sat down,
Yvette and Jules in front of the console and Helena behind and a little to the left of her
father.
“I suppose you realize that I didn’t call you here just for a social visit,” the Head began.
“Much as I like your, company, the Galaxy forces us to work. Have you ever heard of
Vesa?.
“Who hasn’t?” Jules replied. “It’s one of the top resorts in the Galaxy, the playground of
the super-rich. It’s a pretty wild place, from what I hear. Wide open; you can do almost
anything there if you’ve got enough money or influence.
“The Circus has never played there, though,” Yvette added. “At least, not during our
lifetimes. As soon as Vesa started getting a reputation it decided it could do without such
`simple’ entertainment as ours. We’re not sophisticated enough for them, so they don’t
ask us to come.
The Head nodded. “Yes, and that complicates my job a little. Ordinarily I’d send the
Circus in there so that your whole family could find out what the problem is. But as things
stand, it’ll have to be just the two of you. Do you feel up to it?.
“Do stars shine?” Yvette said. “We’ve been getting impatient for weeks. I feel ready to
lick ten Banions single-handed.
“Hopefully that won’t be necessary. Banion the Bastard spent years developing that
traitors’ nest you smashed, covering most of the Galaxy. This is just a localized problem
that I want to keep from getting out of hand.
The Head drummed his fingers on the top of the console for a moment and looked at
them, wondering where to begin. Finally he continued on, “As you’re well aware, the
Service is not a police agency. Our primary concern is the safety of the Empire and the
Emperor, not the enforcement of local laws. The Stanley Doctrine laid down by Stanley
Three clearly-and wisely, in my opinion delegates the responsibility for law enforcement
to the local nobility, as representatives of the Emperor. We manage to hold the Empire
together by the simple expedient of not getting involved in local matters. `That Emperor is
best loved who stays away from his people’s business,’ to quote Milney.
“On the other hand, we can’t close our eyes to everything. The Empire runs on
interstellar commerce. When the relationships between worlds are affected, it becomes
the Emperor’s business-and consequently the Service’s as well. And that, I’m afraid, is
where Vesa comes in.
The Head stood up and paced around behind his desk. “The planet Lindstrom has
recently been negotiating a big agricultural deal with Appeny, one that would involve
trillions of rubles on both sides. I won’t bore you with the details, they’re quite extensive
and beside the point. The matter was being negotiated largely through the auspices of
one man, Nils Bjenden-Lindstrom’s most influential banker. It was to be his bank that
would guarantee the financial outcome; but more than that, it was his personal integrity
that was keeping both sides interested.
“Three weeks ago, Nils Bjenden and his wife disappeared. The deal between the two
planets fell through, causing severe economic hardship to both worlds. I emphasize that
no one stood to gain by their disappearance; it caused a disaster all around. This is the
point where the Service got interested. After all, a fiasco of this size will have economic
repercussions throughout the rest of the Galaxy as well, and we don’t like that. So the
chief of the Service on Lindstrom began investigating to find out why the deal had failed
and what had happened to the Bjendens.
The Head stopped his pacing and moved in front of the console. Planting his feet firmly in