to meet a man," Senesin said, with an air of melodrama. "We will get a call at fifteen of twelve, telling us where to meet him. We have to be there at midnight."
Oh, brother, thought the colonel, they really picked their man. They've got him thinking he's hip-deep in a romantic spy story.
Was I that way at twenty-two? A romantic? I suppose I must have been; why else would I have joined the Guards? Not for the pay, certainly.
Hell, I guess I'm still a romantic, in a way. Being a secret agent isn't all fun and games, but it has its compensations.
Aloud, he said, "Very well, son; I'll go with you. Did you tell them there'd be someone accompanying you?"
"I told them I'd have a friend along. I told them it would be you. They said it was all right, that they knew you were a friend of Dad's. They even knew you've been a little bitter at being retired from the Guards so young." He looked embarrassed. "Pardon me, my lord."
"That's all right," said the colonel steadily. He managed to give the appearance of a man who was doing his best not to look bitter.
"You aren't carrying a gun, are you?" Senesin asked suddenly. "They said we weren't to be armed. They'll probably search us."
"I haven't been in the habit of carrying a gun lately," said the colonel. "They won't find anything on me."
He finished his brandy while Senesin finished his second one. While the younger man refilled both goblets, the colonel asked permission to use the bathroom. He was gone less than three minutes, which he had spent with thumb and middle finger to larynx and mastoid bone.
At eleven forty-five promptly, the phone chimed. No face appeared on the screen when young Senesin answered it, but a voice gave an address on Kalia Road.
Three minutes later, the two men were on the roof, signaling for a skycab.
At ten o'clock the next morning, a panel slid aside in a wall that had previously seemed solid. Colonel Lord Barrick Sorban stepped into the room, thinking as he did so that he really was a romantic. He actually rather enjoyed the idea of using secret passages and hidden panels to gain access to the Emperor's private apartments in the Imperial Palace.
He gave a gentle nod to the man in the blue lounging robe who sat in a big easy-chair just across the room. "Good morning, Sire."
"'Morning, colonel," said His Imperial Majesty, Hannikar IV. "How are things shaping up?"
The colonel chuckled. "Not a single one of the newsies printed a word of it, Sire."
These men were close friends, and had been for years, yet they clung to the formal titles, both from habit and for self-protection. The accidental use of a first name could mean a dead giveaway at the wrong time.
The Emperor was a smaller man than Colonel Sorban, but he was far more impressive. While the colonel seemed rather mild, the Emperor looked—well, Imperial. He looked just as an Emperor ought to look—handsome, dark-haired, stern at times and kindly at others. The square jaw gave an impression of firmness of character, while the sapphire-blue eyes were penetrating without being harsh or hard.
"What about the Senesin boy?" he asked.
"He's in jail," said the colonel.
His Imperial Majesty raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" It was a question and a command.
"Not by my orders," said the colonel quickly. "He got a little upset. He'd taken those tapes and documents around to four editors and had been thrown out four times. The fifth time—at the Globe, as a matter of fact—he accused the editor of being in your pay. A hassle started, and the editor called the Honolulu police. Don't worry, Sire; one of my boys got the tapes and stuff."
"Is it genuine?"
"The evidence? Yes. The Federalists had the goods on you, all right." He grinned. "As you said, everything but brainwashing."
"I'll take care of it," said the Emperor. "Prince Jaimie's been going through the family files, and I rather want him to see this batch of stuff, too. Meantime, get the Senesin boy out of that cell; I want to see him. He's got guts, if nothing else."
"He has sense, too, Sire; he's just a little too young yet." He almost added "and romantic," but he stopped himself in time.
"How long will it take to get him out?" His Majesty asked.
"I can have him here in half an hour. The editor of the Globe will drop the charges. I can put a little pressure on in the right places."
The Emperor nodded. After a moment, he thumbed a button on his chair arm. "Inform Lord Senesin that he is requested to appear for a Royal Audience in forty-five minutes," he said firmly.
"Yes, Sire," said a voice from a hidden speaker.
The Emperor looked at the colonel. "Get the boy."
Jon Senesin sat in a soft chair, his hands gripping at the arms as though it might at any time fall from under him. He looked at the three other men in the room. His father, Lord Senesin, looking rather tired, but with a slight smile on his lantern-jawed face, sat on his son's left. One hand ran nervously through his gray hair.
On Jon's right sat the colonel, looking cool, unperturbed, and very gentle.
Between them sat the Emperor.
Jon's face looked pale, and there was a slight nervous tic at the corner of his mouth. "I ... I don't understand," he said. "I—" He swallowed hard as his voice failed him.
"Nothing hard to understand, son," said the colonel mildly. "We've been looking for evidence to break up the Federalists for several years. Some of them are honest men who are simply against any kind of hereditary monarchy—we'll let them go eventually. Some of them are fanatics—the kind that is against any form of government that happens to be in power; they'll get psychiatric treatment. But the leaders of the group are agents of the Gehan Federation. My men are picking them up now. The man that contacted you and me last night was arrested within two minutes after we left."
"But—the evidence! Those tapes. The documents. They all seemed genuine. They seemed so convincing."
"They should be convincing, Jon," said Lord Senesin in his smooth oratorical baritone. "You see, they are perfectly true."
Jon Senesin looked at his father as though the older man had suddenly sprouted an extra set of ears. "Y ... You've been brainwashed?"
The Prime Portfolio shook his head. "No, son, not that. Did you see anything like that on the tapes?"
"N-no. But the others. Fileman Brenner, Portfolio for Defense Vane, General Finster—all of them. I thought—"
"You thought wrong, son," said Lord Senesin. "I am and always have been working loyally with His Majesty. He gives the orders, and I carry them out."
Jon's voice became taut. "You mean you're helping him? You're trying to get the Empire into a war with the Gehan Federation so that he can become another dictator, like Jerris the First?" He kept his eyes carefully averted from the Emperor as he spoke.
Thus he didn't notice that His Majesty looked at Colonel Sorban with an expression that said, "You're right. He does have guts."
Lord Senesin said: "No, son; I'm not working toward that at all. Neither is His Majesty. There would be no point in it."
Then, for the first time, the Emperor spoke. His voice was soft, but commanding. "Mr. Senesin, let me explain something to you."
Jon Senesin's head jerked around. There was a confused mixture of fear and determination on his face.
"Mr. Senesin, I no more want war than you do. I am trying to avoid it with every power at my command. I have that duty to my people. But I have another duty, too. A duty, not just to the Empire, but to the human race as a whole. And that duty is to establish, not a Terran Empire, but a Galactic Empire—a single, consolidated government for every planet in the galaxy. Man can't go on this way, divided, split up, warring with