The bad news wasn't limited to the civilian sector. Sten's attacks against the Empire were indicated all over the board As were the declarations of war or independence from many of the Emperor's former allies.
Dead agents, blown missions, and other intelligence failures were also added to the Empire's burden.
A normal being might have despaired. Poyndex was far from normal. In each failure he saw opportunity. In each disaster, a hidden treasure trove.
Poyndex had learned much from the Eternal Emperor in a very short time. Success required perspective... and patience.
In this case the long view was Poyndex's—not the Emperor's.
As his black-uniformed aides hustled about the enormous room, Poyndex once again weighed the odds. And once again he came to the conclusion that the Emperor was wrong. He was taking the threat of Sten far too seriously.
In fact, it was Poyndex's view that Sten was actually being propped up by the Emperor's attention. His antics would be seen as just that if he was officially ignored. But the more the Emperor ranted and raved and flung about ships and troops, the more attractive a figure Sten became to the Emperor's enemies.
All data suggested that the dice were loaded against Sten. His forces were puny and his resources slim, when compared to the juggernaut that was the Empire.
Sten could not afford one mistake. The Emperor could afford many.
For some reason the Emperor couldn't see this. He was completely obsessed with Sten. Very little else was getting his attention.
A large blind spot.
A small smile began to grow on Poyndex's lips. He couldn't help feeling clever for encouraging the Emperor's obsession. And slipping around that blind spot.
He'd warned the Emperor of this and that. But only to protect himself—if things went wrong. Meanwhile, he'd successfully isolated the Emperor from the outside world, moving in his own people.
The Gurkhas were the last of the old guard to go.
Now, the Emperor was totally dependent on him. It was Poyndex who had chosen Zoran's successor. Poyndex who controlled all people permitted in the Emperor's presence. And it was Poyndex who encouraged the Emperor in his madness whenever possible.
As a matter of fact, he had become so indispensable to the Emperor that he'd deliberately started making a few mistakes. Such as the mishandling of the honors-banquet nonsense.
The Emperor might be mad. But he was certainly no fool. He knew as well as Poyndex that there was nothing so dangerous as an indispensable man.
So Poyndex had to foul up once in a while. Just enough so the Emperor wouldn't resent him.
He looked up at the situation board. Not at the bad news. But at the sheer expanse of the Empire.
An Empire that in some ways bent to his will.
Not the Emperor's.
And as each day passed—and the Emperor deteriorated— Poyndex's influence grew.
He did not make the mistake of ever seeing himself as Emperor. At least not very often.
During the time of the privy council, Poyndex had viewed firsthand what happened to the Empire when there was no figurehead to give it form.
No. The Emperor was a necessity. At least his presence was. His legend.
There was only one large flaw. Poyndex would eventually grow old.
Weaken.
And die.
But the Emperor was immortal.
What if Poyndex could some how learn that secret?
What if he could live... forever?
Poyndex brushed the sensor and the situation board became a mural again.
There were more possibilities here than even Poyndex could ever dream of.
And Poyndex was a practiced dreamer.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"I DON'T KNOW how they discovered your whereabouts," Sr. Ecu said. His holo image was shadowed on the edges from the strength of the scrambler.
"The point is, they're on their way to the Lupus Cluster right now. A 260-being delegation. Headed by the three top leaders of the Zaginows."
"Speaking as one trained diplomat to another," Sten said, "this is not what I call clottin‘ wonderful. I'm going to have to move our base of operations. Fast."
"I think it would be a mistake not to meet with them," Sr. Ecu said, his tail agitating the Seilichi atmosphere. The flick sent him drifting across the chamber.
"I know it's dangerous to assume innocent intent." Another flick, and Sr. Ecu's body steadied.
"However... if the Zaginows do join with us... it will be a major blow against the Emperor. Think of it. An entire region—representing hundreds of clusters—defecting to our side. The propaganda value would easily equal any military venture you might be considering."
Sten tapped a nervous foot against the cold, stone floor of the Bhor com room. "I know. I know. But I still can't get past the frightening little detail that somehow the Zaginows not only connected us, but also figured out where I'm holed up."
"I was as startled as you," Sr. Ecu said, "when they arrived at my front door, demanding to meet with you. My first assumption was there had been a leak. The second was the Manabi were doomed. I had visions of an Imperial planetbuster in our immediate future.
"But after speaking with them, running all the progs through my techs, combined with my personal knowledge of the Zaginows—I see very little possibility of a trap."
"It's the little possibility that scares me," Sten said. "Also a largish ‘howcome'... In other words, if they want to sign on with the revolution... how come they didn't do so with you? Why is it so important they have a face-to-face with me?"
"Because the Zaginows are not entirely convinced," Sr. Ecu said. "They're only sure we share the same enemy. They're not sure we have the means to do something about said enemy."
Sr. Ecu drifted closer to the camera lens. "It's up to you, Sten. They're already leaning heavily in our direction. Otherwise they wouldn't be taking such a risk."
"So, what you are advising," Sten said, "is a little diplomatic razzle-dazzle so we can reel them the rest of the way in."
"Razzle-dazzle? I don't understand this term."
"A big show."
"Oh. Very descriptive. Yes. That's precisely what I advise. A very big show."
Sten hesitated. "Did you ask how they figured it out?"
"Yes. They said they added one plus one to a great deal of wishful thinking. They used the same nonlogic to pinpoint you in the Bhor worlds. Although, I certainly didn't confirm their belief. Actually, the Zaginows didn't even ask. When they left, they just kindly asked me to notify you they were on the way."
Sten sighed. "Okay. I'll do it. What the clot? If we're wrong, I'll be too damned dead to count how many ways I was played the fool."
"You won't be alone, Sten," Sr. Ecu said. Dry. "The afterlife, it is rumored, is mostly composed of fools like us."
"I feel a lot better already," Sten said with a grimace. "Thanks."
"You're quite welcome."
Sr. Ecu's image was gone.
Sten began pacing to work out his thoughts. But his mind was already crammed with so many odd details of the complex war he was waging against the Emperor that he soon found himself spinning about his own fundament.
He needed advice. Badly.
"So, Sr. Ecu claims it was mostly luck that led them to us?" Rykor said.
"That pretty well sums it up," Sten said.
"Ah dinnae believe i‘ luck," Alex said. "Cept when i's m‘ own wee hide time's beggin' f'r it."
"Of course there's luck," Otho insisted. "The Bhor know it well. It comes in three varieties. Blind, dumb, and bad."