The reason the Manabi were preferred to Tangeri's race as the Empire's diplomats was their innate pacifism and neutrality. The Cal'gata had no problem, if they saw an advantage to their species, in getting involved, even if it meant wading through blood up to their incisors.
"If I understand a passing reference of a while ago," Tangeri continued, "you brought up the name of this human, Sten. I further understood you to imply that his quixotic and kitlike gesture of waving his private parts at the Empire was seriously meant."
"Your understanding is not too distant from what I said," Ecu said. "Pray continue."
"Most romantic. One being against the Empire. Or so it would appear. Do you know, I have run some analyses of late, based on the data you were kind enough to send me under sensitive cover. The data I'm referring to is the amusing situation you created that the Empire is destroying itself. You have a rare ability to synthesize fiction."
Both of them knew the Empire's kamikaze rush toward doom was no fiction whatsoever.
"From your data, as I said, I made some extensions. Sheerly in the spirit of the mental exercise you created. I will give you an abstract if you wish.
"But briefly, given the proper conditions, which I posited, it is indeed possible for one being—such as this outlaw Sten-—to shake the Empire. If the Empire failed to respond correctly to this minor stimulus, it is not inconceivable this would produce a multiple-loop feedback situation, and that the ensuing oscillation, if continued for a not-particularly-extended period, might bring the entire system to a halt or—accepting ultimately favorable conditions and no successful damping—its destruction.
"Most interesting."
Tangeri fell silent and stroked his long face-sensors with a tentacled paw, then sat motionless braced on his tail, a fat, furry black-and-white tripod. He could maintain this immobility for hours and days if necessary or desirable.
"That is interesting," Ecu agreed. "And I would like to see your equations. Strictly for their amusement value, of course. But you mentioned something I perhaps did not understand."
"My most sincere apologies. I find the older I get the more likely I have become to use circumlocutions or even inaccuracies."
"No," Ecu said. "You were most clear. I would merely be interested in what you generally mentioned as ‘favorable conditions.' If you could be more specific?"
"I posited many such," Tangeri said smoothly. "Perhaps the most fascinating was if this Sten made a secret alliance with another race, one that normally maintained, or tried to maintain, neutrality when it came to Empire-wide politics."
"Ah?" Ecu wondered if Tangeri's point would be to expose the Manabi as being on Sten's side. No. He would hardly take pride in doing something which was that obvious to the Cal'gata—Ecu had done everything except put up a flagpole and run Sten's battle emblem up it
"Yes. I further envisioned a large race. Somewhat warlike."
Sr. Ecu floated, completely motionless.
"A race that had also been loyal to the Emperor during the Tahn war, and one which maintained hostile neutrality during the Interregnum."
This was it! This was why Ecu had made the long journey to this world in secrecy.
"Mmm," Ecu said. "Could you possibly have added to this hypothetical race that after the Emperor's return they were hardly rewarded for their loyalty, perhaps because the star clusters they controlled, no matter how numerous, were far from the Empire's heart?"
"More than two hundred and fifty such clusters." Sr. Tangeri whistled sharply, and the fencing match was over. "Some of our most respected beings were murdered by the privy council. We lost two million during the Tahn war.
"And now we are forgotten. Our AM2 supply is tightly rationed. If it were possible to burn wood in stardrive chambers, we would be exploring that as an option.
"Yes," Tangeri went on, his whistled speech losing its sharpness. "The Emperor has set and locked his controls for the heart of some great sun. The Cal'gata will not make that journey with him.
"Contact your Sten. Tell him what I said. All we lack is enough AM2 to fight the war. Ask him what he needs. Ships. Fighting men. Factories. Whatever.
"The Cal'gata are declared. And even if we are wrong, and this rebel Sten is destroyed, bringing some or all of the Empire down with him into near-barbarism, that will still be better than the absolute chaos which is the only thing at the end of the Emperor's path. Tell him that, as well."
Two hundred and fifty clusters sounded like a massive host, Ecu thought, after he had returned to his ship to rest and prepare for the next day's formal banqueting. But to the enormity of the Empire, which swept across many galaxies, it was little more than a company-size formation.
Still, it was a beginning.
He floated next to a wallshelf—what the free-floating Manahi called a desk—and sorted through papers a courier ship had delivered while he was negotiating with Tangeri.
Being a disciplined creature, he first went through official fiches, but his vision kept straying to the small pile that was personal—fiches from colleagues, friends, and one female ex-breeding partner. And something else. Something that shimmered.
He could stand it no more. A tendril slipped it from the stack, and held it up. The small fiche swirled a kaleidoscope of light at him, colors washing across the surface of the fiche in waves.
A commercial solicitation. He should have expected something like it. The question was, how had whichever business sought his custom found Ecu's private shipping code? He looked more closely.
The return code was hand-scribed. Marr and Senn? Ecu thought, then remembered. The former caterers for the Imperial Household. Ecu remembered them with pleasure. He, like almost everyone who had encountered the lifetime-bonded same-sex lovers, had been enchanted by the two Milchen. He had first encountered them at a formal banquet and been impressed that they had not only gone to the trouble of finding and synthesizing examples of the Manabi's native diet, but also to the trouble of somehow finding out some of Ecu's favorite "dishes." He had also been invited to a couple of parties at their famed "tower of light" home that was in an isolated sector of Prime.
But why would they contact him? They were, if memory served, in retirement.
He touched one of the sensitized areas.
Two small holographs hung before him. Marr and Senn. Their antennae waved.
"We send you our fondest greetings, Sr. Ecu," they chimed, then vanished. A personalized advertisement, then.
Aromas floated up to him, aromas of a great kitchen. A tiny holograph of a steaming platter appeared next. It vanished. Another hologram, this of a formal banquet table.
Ah. They had evidently begun some sort of catering operation, and no doubt thought Sr. Ecu was somewhere near Prime and might wish to take advantage of their services.
How odd, he thought. They could not need the credits. But possibly the boredom of a long retirement had driven them back into the business world.
The table disappeared, and again Marr and Senn appeared. They confirmed that they were now available for custom catering. And they offered—
There was a chime. Ecu glanced at a wallchron and realized he was late.
He looked at the play time on the fiche and was surprised. There was almost thirty E-minutes' play time left. What had Marr and Senn done, list their complete menu and how all the dishes were prepared?
Very strange. He set the fiche down. He did not have time to go through the rest of Marr and Senn's message. He was already encroaching on time that could be best spent readying himself for Tangeri's gathering.