"There is an ancient theory, the idea that chaos itself is not chaotic at all. It is not disorganization, rather it is the organizer of everything. A soldier sneezes on a distant planet somewhere, and if it happens in the right place at the right time, the air pressure from that sneeze will build and build until the planet is racked by a super tornado. It's a huge catastrophe, but it still takes that little sneeze to start the events that eventually destroy the planet."
"I think you might be losing me," she confessed.
He nodded and began again. "Did you know that last year was the first time that the percentage of wealth brought in to the imperial coffers was higher than the number of planets we reclaimed? A statement probably better off explained by the Empire's bursars, but I think I know what it means. We have lost our view. We have begun to fail in our first mission: reclaiming the Galaxy. We have become so absorbed by the riches we take from our subjects that making things better for those subjects themselves is slowly fading away. It's just a pinprick really, a trend that might take another hundred years to really be noticed. But it is a warning sign, a symptom, that other things are wrong. With the Empire. With the planet. With us. We've become so self-absorbed in the grandeur of it all, and with everyone trying to get a piece of that grandeur, that a certain kind of blindness has set in."
He paused a moment. Xara was transfixed. Intelligent conversation was a rarity in her world.
He began again slowly. "One of the oldest texts we have ever found here on Earth was a fantasy written by one of this planet's greatest writers even before the first humans went into space. Only a few pages remain, and many of the words are so archaic, we have no idea what they mean anymore. But the main idea was this: No matter how big or small, empires always reach a point of inevitable collapse, a point where they more or less have to fall, some in order to regain whatever was great about them in the first place. And where the first crack appears is usually from within. I guess what I'm saying is, I wonder if maybe the leak in the pipe is trying to tell us something. Perhaps we've reached that point.
"Now this man, Hunter — I know a few things about him. His claim that he simply appeared one day out on that lonely rock in space is apparently true. It really was as if someone had simply dropped him out here, from somewhere else. My dear princess, as you know, the Galaxy is filled with mysterious and wonderful things. But I've never heard of a case like his. Just suddenly there. And look at what's happened since. In less than a year, Hunter has won the greatest acclaim in the Galaxy, then he has vanished, only to reemerge to attack the Empire itself — and so far, very successfully, against one of our most brilliant commanders. From my deepest thoughts I've come to believe that Hunter is here for a reason. Is it to conquer the Empire? I don't think so. I think he is here to simply tip it over. Either way, stopping him might not necessarily be the right thing."
Xara didn't speak for a very long time. Finally, she said. "So my reasons are for love. And yours are for history?"
She thought the spy might have actually smiled for a moment. It was hard to tell.
"Can you think of any two better?" he replied.
17
Captain Vanex, chief custodian of Special Number One, was dreaming of the great eastern ocean overflowing its artificial banks, rising up over the grand triad and flooding into his home, when a sound interrupted his slumber.
Was that someone knocking on his door?
He fell slowly out of bed, padded into the hallway, and over to his front entrance. He opened the door to find no one standing there. A small box was floating at about eye level. It was shedding a bright emerald aura, almost the same hue as the pine trees surrounding his home. This indicated the package had been sent to him by someone within the Imperial Family.
He took the package from its hover, closed the door, and brought it inside.
Placing the package on his bed stand, he lit a candle to see better. It was almost noontime, but Vanex's 700-year-old eyes welcomed the additional light. He pushed the button sequencer on the top of the package, and it slowly began to open. He found inside — of all things — a holo-girl capsule. An ion impression identified it as an Echo 999.9, Transdimensional Test. Top Secret.
Vanex was stunned. A holo-girl capsule? He hadn't seen one of these things in almost two centuries.
He studied the palm-size container. It was obviously some kind of advanced model. He knew the Echoes were not only able to provide the user with the comforts of a very heavenly creature, they also had the ability to bring that user into the mysterious thirty-fourth dimension, where time more or less stood still, and where one could live and love and frolic with her forever — or at least until the power strings ran out. Such experiences could last for what seemed to be a month, thirty days in paradise with an angel. And upon return, it was like you never left. Whatever was happening the moment you began the experience was still happening the moment you returned.
An encrypted message suddenly popped into space just above the capsule. It contained a short sequence of words, presented in the archaic language that few people on Earth understood anymore. But Vanex was one of them. And these words were somewhat simple.
The message instructed Vanex to summon a sentinel to his quarters. Sentinels were the very strange beings who existed primarily in the sixth dimension. They had been around for centuries and for want of a better description, these days served as ghostly valets. They looked after the daily affairs of the Imperial elite. From grooming and dressing, to making sure the very special Specials had water at every hand, they also served as musicians, envoys, escorts, tour guides, you name it. They even served as stand-ins for the Emperor himself, experiencing, if not exactly enjoying, a secret and very close relationship with the all-knowing O'Nay. They were odd-looking characters, most of them. Tall and gangling, with long faces, dark, deeply sunken, tremendously sad eyes, hunched-over shoulders, and terrible posture. Sometimes they appeared in a shape that resembled O'Nay himself, but in a rather disturbing way.
No one was really sure who these characters were; they were one of several deep mysteries of the Fourth Empire. Whether they were real or just part of some deeply secret program running somewhere at some location unknown, few people knew, if any. Because they weren't really human, they had an ability to project themselves to any point in the Galaxy instantaneously but could only stay at that location for a few seconds' time before they disappeared— for good. These one-way missions lasted just long enough to perhaps deliver a document, a weapon, a bit of good or bad news. Then the messenger would fade away like a ghost, never to be seen again. There was one theory that the sentinels were actually a race of disposable, computer-projected spies left over from the Second or possibly even the Third Empire. Because Vanex was in effect part of the Imperial Court, he could summon a sentinel at any time.
Vanex studied the holo-girl capsule more intently now. It seemed bigger, more streamlined than the holo devices he'd been familiar with as a younger man. The encrypted hovering message ended: "Once you have summoned the sentinel, by your service to the Imperial Court, activate this device."
Vanex had to read the message over and over again; it seemed stranger each time. Why would someone in the Imperial Family want him to take a holo-girl trip? Did one of the four top Specials actually think he'd enjoy such a lusty getaway? Or was there another motive involved?
He didn't know. But orders were orders, and Vanex was nothing if not a loyal servant.