He had no wish to become a tyrant who ruled over an endless hell.
He had been proud of himself for thinking of that. Proud of it still, he thought, touching up his glass with Scotch. It was his own secret gift to his forever kingdom. If he was absolutely honest with himself, however, he would have to admit he was a little broad in his definitions of mental disturbance. But during these fits of honesty, he had rationalized that his future self might require some leeway to survive. It was impossible to imagine all the circumstances he might face over the centuries. What seemed insane today might be expeditious in the far tomorrow.
The machine orchestrating all of this was contained in a completely automated hospital ship; a ship not only built with redundancy on redundancy, constructed with bus bars a meter thick when a centimeter would give a lifespan of decades, but given complete self-analyzing and repair capabilities.
He had hidden it where no enemy could ever find it—the alternate universe. The source of his AM2 operation.
He thought of it as N-space.
And just in case his enemies ever tracked the ship down, it was defended by the best weapons of this age. It was unlikely anyone who attacked would survive. The hospital ship would sit in readiness, waiting for the signal to call it into full life. At that signal, the ship's robotic staff would build yet another Kea Richards—to replace the one that had just been... removed. The flesh would be grown from the genes Imbrociano was even now stockpiling from frequent biopsies. The mind—the id of Kea Richards—would be perfectly reconstructed as well. Right up to the final thoughts before... death.
"This will take time," Imbrociano had warned him. "A little more than three years before the duplicate is constructed. You'll have to be aware of these gaps."
He had overcome the problem by having an elaborate library computer installed. It would constantly monitor every newsfeed and knowledge resource in the Federation. All this data would be fed to the new organism after the awakening—during tutori-als. But he must be wary. The organism would be new. Untried. Imbrociano's psych techs told him too much pure knowledge without practical experience could doom it before it started.
The return to power would be gradual. A ladder of experience. With awareness fed hi along with each step upward. And at any point, the judgment machine could decide the new organism was lacking in some way and destroy it... to start again.
Oddly enough, the easiest of all his tasks in preparing for immortality had involved the political.
Because his hole card was AM2.
When he died, the AM2 shipments would automatically halt. There would be no more for a usurper until Kea's rebirth and return. Economic chaos would result A three-year power drought. The throne stealer would be so weakened, he would topple at a touch when Kea Richards rose from the dead.
A hero reborn.
It was a powerful legend to build on.
Kea looked up at the antique clock on the mantel. It was time to start.
Imbrociano was waiting.
He finished his drink. Replaced the glass on the tray and pushed the whole thing away. And he buzzed for Kemper—his chief of staff. They went over the things to be done in his absence. Last-minute legislative details. Appointments to higher office. That sort of thing. His staff was grudgingly getting used to his mysterious absences. He had slipped away regularly to add to that tolerance. Sometimes in his guise as the common engineer—Raschid. Sometimes with a few chosen people for a little stealth diplomacy.
"What if there is an emergency, Mr. President?" Kemper said dutifully. He knew the answer, but thought he'd be remiss if he didn't ask. "How can we reach you?"
Richards gave him the usual response: "Don't worry. I won't be gone long."
After Kemper departed, Richards pulled a bulky travel kit from a drawer. Then he pressed a stud beneath his desk. A panel swung away in the wall. Kea plunged into the dark passage. The panel closed behind him. A short time later he was aboard a small spaceyacht, listening to the captain chatter with the first officer—waiting for tower clearance. He turned in his seat to see if Imbrociano and her people were comfortable. Imbrociano waved to him. Smiled. A sad smile. Kea waved back. Settled in for takeoff.
There was the shock of the thrust... a roaring in his ears... then weightlessness. Kea savored every sensation of the flight As if it were to be his last.
Imbrociano's voice came in his ear: "Would you like a sedative?"
He turned to her. Motioned for her to sit next to him. She did. Her eyes were hollowed from lack of sleep. "I'd rather not," Kea said. "Somehow... I don't know... I want to be aware."
"I understand," Imbrociano said. "But we won't reach our destination until tomorrow. Why not get some rest?"
"If this doesn't work," Kea said, "I'll have a lot of time for that. Permanent rest."
"You can still call this off," Imbrociano said. "Really. I urge you to."
"I've made up my mind," Kea said. "There's no need for you to feel guilt."
Imbrociano grew silent. Picked at her sleeve. Then she said, "If it eases your mind any, there will be no pain tomorrow. No sensation. I'll inject you with trancs first. So there will be no fear. The lethal dose will come next. You'll inhale... and by the time you fully exhale, you'll be... dead."
"Reborn, actually," Kea said with forced lightness. "Or, as some might say, exchanging one vessel for another."
"But it can't be really you't" she exploded. "Perhaps by casual definition, yes. It will talk, walk, and think like you in all matters. But it still can't be you. The essence in each of us. That makes us individual. The soul."
"You sound like a preacher," Kea said. "I'm an engineer. A pragmatist. If it walks like a duck... talks like a duck... it must be Kea Richards."
Imbrociano put her head back. Tired. Defeated. Then she patted his arm. Rose. And returned to her seat.
Kea felt genuinely sorry about what had to happen next. He fished out the travel case. Peeled away a small panel of material to reveal a depression. A heat-sensitive switch. He liked Imbrociano. Despite her stiff manner, she was genuinely human: afflicted with the curse of empathy.
His affection for her was the second reason he had chosen to alter the plan. The first reason was pragmatic. It was best to begin with maximum impact. A suspicious accident. Triggering finger pointing and political purges. Government in disarray. The cheers at his miraculous return would drown out many questions. Some of those he would get around with obscure hints of enemies in hiding. The rest he would erase by simply rewriting history.
He would have a long time to do it.
The second reason was pity. For Imbrociano. He could not bear to think how hurt she would be that he had lied to her. It was a terrible emotion for a person to be confronted with at the moment of his death. Even worse than the betrayal itself.
He trusted her.
But he couldn't take the chance.
Trust no one, an old king had once advised another. Not even me, your friend... Especially me!
Ah, well. The decision had been difficult. But deadly necessity had won the hand. But he knew he would always mourn Imbrociano. Just as he would mourn others. It was a king's burden. One he would have to bear.