Bones of Empire (10 page)

The people who had been standing around the couple had withdrawn by then, leaving them to confront the drone alone, as the hulking robots carried their burden up the street. The drone hovered for a moment, as if deciding what to do, before finally sailing away.

Cato released a breath and was surprised to learn that he'd been holding it. “Damn! That was close.”

“Yes,” Alamy agreed, as the crowd swirled around them. “It sure was. Are you sure about Verafti?”

“Very sure,” Cato answered darkly. “Even though we found a Sagathi hand back on Dantha, there was no body to go with it, and now we know why! The bastard cut the damned thing off and left it for me to find. Then, with no one looking for him, it must have been easy to reach Corin.”

Alamy's eyes grew larger as the persistent roar of the crowd grew more distant, and they were left standing in an ocean of trash. “Oh, my God!” she said, as the full weight of Cato's words hit her. “Verafti murdered the Emperor!”

“That's the way it looks,” Cato agreed grimly. “But nobody's going to believe me—and Verafti has the Emperor's entire security apparatus to protect him.”

Alamy frowned. “What about the other Xeno cops on Corin? Why didn't
they
notice Verafti?”

“That's a good question,” Cato replied thoughtfully. “And one that I can't answer. Not yet anyway. Come on. . . . We need to find Legate Usurlus and tell him. He's the one person who might believe us. That's why he brought me here after all . . . So it's worth a try.”

 

 

Far above the crowded streets, in high-rise condominiums and apartments throughout Imperialus, the city's movers and shakers were in the process of celebrating Emperor's Day in their own ways, and Usurlus was hosting one such gathering in his luxurious home. His guest list included what appeared to be a random gathering of politicians, government officials, and corporate executives. But each person had been invited because of what he or she knew, or
who
they knew, which was often more important. So each individual was an ingredient in a social mix that might or might not produce the result Usurlus was hoping for, some sort of explanation for the political malaise that could be felt all around him.

So that's where Usurlus was, a half-empty glass in hand, when Livius appeared at his side and waited for the Legate to finish a conversation with a powerful business executive. The man was boring, so Usurlus was glad when the interaction was over and he could turn to Livius. “Yes? Is there a problem?”

“Cato is here, sire,” the bodyguard replied gravely. “With Alamy. He wants to see you and insists that the matter is urgent.”

Usurlus frowned. He knew that Cato hated parties and everything associated with them, which meant that the issue was urgent indeed. “Tell them to wait in my study,” Usurlus instructed. “I'll join them when I can.”

Because Usurlus had to pause and visit with various guests as he crossed the crowded living room, it took the better part of ten minutes to slip into a hallway and follow it back to the study, where Cato and Alamy were waiting. They looked out of place in a room that managed to be both simple and elegant at the same time. The walls were covered with a tightly woven textile manufactured on Thoa, floating shelves supported carefully chosen art objects, and the dark hardwood floors seemed to glow as if lit from within.

A glass desk occupied one end of the rectangular space, and the visitors were seated on the skeletal chrome chairs that were arranged in front of it. Both of the visitors rose as Usurlus entered—and he waved them back into their seats. “This is a pleasant surprise,” Usurlus said as he rounded the desk. “Livius said the matter is urgent. . . . And it must be since Officer Cato has a well-known aversion to parties.”

“It
is
urgent,” Cato replied earnestly. “Alamy and I were on Privia Street, watching the processional, when a breeze blew some curtains out of the way, and I got a good look at the Emperor. Only it wasn't Emor! It was Fiss Verafti. The bastard is alive!”

Usurlus felt something cold trickle into his bloodstream. If Verafti was alive, and posing as the Emperor, that would explain a great deal. But that was impossible. Wasn't it? He eyed Cato skeptically. “You're absolutely sure?”

“Yes,” Cato replied unhesitatingly. “I would stake my life on it.”

“That could be the case,” Usurlus mused thoughtfully. “Because if we were to level such an accusation and be proven wrong, neither of us would survive for very long. I like Emor, and respect him, but he's absolutely ruthless. And if it appeared that we were trying to remove him from the throne, he would have us killed.”

“He
was
ruthless,” Cato replied flatly. “Until Verafti made a meal out of him and took control of the Empire.”

“Point taken,” Usurlus said, as the fingers of his right hand drummed on the glass desktop. “It wouldn't stand up in a court of law—but there is some anecdotal support for what you say. Of the thirty-seven people who came to my party, more than half had reason to meet with Emor on a regular basis. But, as far as I can tell, not one of them has done so within the last month and a half.”

“Verafti is afraid that he'll give himself away,” Alamy observed. “But he couldn't avoid the Emperor's Day processional. He
had
to show himself or cause people to wonder why he didn't.” Then, fearful that she had been too forward, she blushed. Neither man seemed to take notice.

“That's correct,” Cato agreed. “And if he's been in hiding, that would explain why none of the local Xeno cops spotted the change. They haven't seen him and weren't supposed to.”

“That makes sense,” Usurlus agreed. “Who's in charge of your detachment anyway?”

Cato winced at the thought of taking the problem to his superior officer. “Primus Pilus Inobo, sire.”

“All right then,” Usurlus said as he came to his feet. “I'm of the opinion that the best way to handle this matter is through official channels lest we be accused of plotting a coup. Make an appointment with Inobo. I'll explain the situation, and we'll let him take it from there.”

The prospect of sharing anything of consequence with Inobo filled Cato with dread, but he had a tremendous amount of respect for Usurlus's political acumen and gave the answer that was expected of him. “Sir, yes, sir.”

 

 

As Tuso Inobo's official ground car pulled up in front of the Temple of Truth, he felt nervous, and with good reason, since it was no small thing to meet with a Legate. Especially one as influential as Isulu Usurlus was said to be.

But, even though such a face-to-face meeting could be interpreted as a measure of his importance, it could be risky as well. Especially since Inobo's steady climb to the rank of Primus Pilus had been accomplished by keeping his head down, avoiding the types of decisions where things could go seriously wrong, and looking for ways to curry favor with his superiors. So the last thing Inobo wanted to do was allow himself to be drawn into the sort of political machinations Usurlus was known for—where he might be forced to take sides in a contest he didn't understand.

And making an already difficult situation worse was the fact that Cato was involved and would be present at the meeting, too. For Cato was frequently in the wrong place at the wrong time—and something less than reliable where difficult situations were concerned.

Inobo got out of the car and made his way across the street to the black-granite building located at the center of a large traffic circle. Unlike the high-rise structures that surrounded it, the temple was only three stories tall. And, as if to emphasize the sanctity of what went on inside it, the building had no windows. That, combined with its polished surface, gave the structure a somewhat ominous appearance. Inobo felt a chasm form at the pit of his stomach as a pair of curved doors opened to admit him.

The lobby was large and spacious, and the air was verging on cold as Inobo made his way over to a gleaming reception desk. Surprisingly, given the austere setting, an actual Uman being was there to greet him. The Civil Servant Corps uniform looked a bit tight on the woman, as if she had gained weight since it had been issued to her, but there was nothing wrong with her smile. “Good morning, sir,” she said cheerfully. “How can I help you?”

Inobo gave his name, plus a conference number, and was instructed to follow an airborne usher. The shiny metal ball floated four feet off the ground and was the source of a gentle whirring noise as it led the Primus Pilus onto one of four lifts. The platform rose with more speed than Inobo thought was necessary, before coming to an abrupt stop on the second floor, where the globe-shaped robot led him off.

A few moments later, Inobo entered a wedge-shaped room to discover that both Usurlus and Cato were there waiting for him. That in spite of his effort to come early, thereby allowing the Legate to arrive last yet still on time. All he could do was apologize. “Sorry I'm late, sir.”

“But you aren't late,” Usurlus objected as he rose to greet the officer. “I was damnably early—which is a rare event, I assure you!”

After a brief forearm-to-forearm grip, Usurlus waved a hand in Cato's direction. “You know Centurion Cato, of course. . . . May I take this opportunity to tell you what a fine police officer he is?”

“Yes, of course,” Inobo replied noncommittally. He was aware that Cato was on Corin at the Legate's request but was surprised to hear Usurlus speak of him so warmly, and suspicious as well. Was Cato blackmailing Usurlus?
Forcing
him to say positive things?
Yes,
Inobo decided.
Nothing else could explain it.

“Well, then,” Usurlus said, as the three of them took seats around a conference table that was shaped like the room. “Let's get this meeting under way. Proctor Theno? Are you ready?”

The proctor was an AI who, through various iterations of himself, was presently presiding over more than two dozen such meetings, all of which had one thing in common—a need for a government-sanctioned witness that couldn't lie, couldn't forget what had been said, and couldn't be bought off. That made Inobo even more nervous since he knew that whatever was said to him, and the way in which he responded, would be on record for however long the Empire lasted. Proctor Theno's melodic voice seemed to originate from nowhere and everywhere at once. “I am ready. . . . The session has begun. Please proceed.”

“Thank you,” Usurlus said as he looked Inobo in the eye. “Before Cato and I can begin, some history is in order. You may or may not have read the report I wrote on the subject, but I suspect a refresher would be useful, and it makes sense to capture the information in the official record as well.”

Inobo knew that a report written by Usurlus was included in Cato's P-1 file but had never taken the time to read it, so he was careful to limit his response to a nod that was immediately captured by more than a dozen vid cams that were built into the walls.

Cato had clearly come prepared because his account of what had taken place on Dantha, including his pursuit of a shape shifter named Verafti, was succinct and professionally neutral. The account concluded with the discovery of Verafti's hand and what looked like sure evidence of the murderous Sagathi's death. And, based on what Inobo could pick up from Cato's emotions, he was telling the truth.

Usurlus nodded in agreement as the narrative came to an end. “So that was the end of it, or so we assumed, until yesterday. Cato, please tell Primus Pilus Inobo what you observed.”

Inobo listened intently as his subordinate described the processional, the errant breeze, and his brief glimpse of Emor. Then, as Cato made his incredible announcement regarding the Emperor's
true
identity, it was all Inobo could do to keep from laughing. A reaction that, while appropriate given the far-fetched nature of Cato's allegation, would be politically inadvisable, given his subordinate's relationship with Usurlus. With that in mind, Inobo chose his words with care. “That's a very serious accusation if true. What would you have me do?”

“I want you to launch an official investigation,” Usurlus replied soberly. “Perhaps Cato was mistaken. I hope he was. If so, it should be easy to establish. All that is required is for you and let's say two subordinates to take a quick look at the Emperor. If he's Uman, you'll know right away. If he isn't, that will be apparent as well. Then, depending on your findings, the appropriate actions can be taken.”

It wasn't that simple, of course. There was no way to carry out such an inspection without the Emperor's agreement. And by approaching the Emperor's staff with such an outlandish request, Inobo would not only draw attention to himself but invite Emor's wrath. Along with possibly dire consequences.

But he couldn't ignore an official request from a Legate even if he believed that Cato was either mistaken or running a con of some sort. So he would have to pursue the matter. But carefully—very carefully. “Yes, sir,” Inobo said, with what he hoped was the right note of sincerity. “I'll do my best.”

THE SUN WAS OUT BUT HIDDEN ABOVE A GREASY
layer of smog, which the light breeze from the west seemed powerless to drive away. The result was an unrelieved simmering heat and a lot of short tempers, especially down on the city streets, where police officers were required to work. District Seven, which was generally referred to as the X Quarter, was no exception.

The teeming neighborhood, which was home to more than 150,000 non-Uman sentients, was located in the southwest section of Imperialus, sandwiched between District Six to the east and District Eight to the northwest. Its main claim to fame other than the diversity of the sentients who lived there was a crime rate second only to that of Port City, where the Usurlus motorcade had been ambushed. And, as was the case in all of the Empire's ghettos, the denizens of D-7 made it a practice to prey on each other.