monarch abdicated in favor of a successor. Most of the Stanleys came to sudden. violent
ends, and the ascension of their heirs was a much more spontaneous affair. Although it
was a tradition to publicly broadcast the Coronation from Earth to every planet in the
Galaxy, few people were privileged to be on hand to attend such an event in person.
Edna’s coronation as Empress Stanley Eleven, though, had been private knowledge in
high government circles for years, and had been announced publicly months ago. People
knew in advance that it would be happening-and they knew, too, that they might never
see another coronation within their lifetimes. Stanley Ten had reigned for well over forty
years; a majority of people within the Empire had never even lived under another ruler.
The excitement caused by the upcoming change in power had electrified the populace
throughout the Galaxy.
As tradition decreed, the ceremony would be held at Bloodstar Hall in the Angeles-Diego
metropolitan complex. Despite SOTE’s best precautions, Edna’s wedding there had been
a near-disaster, with only Jules and Yvonne averting tragedy at the last possible
moment. The Head was determined that this ceremony was not going to be the fiasco
the last one had been, and as a consequence was spending most of his time away from
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