CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Sten was up to his ass in R-O-U-T-I-N-E. Which on Jochi meant a permanent state of borderline panic. Two thirds of the lights on the com board were winking yellow alert.

The remainder were red.

His com techs—all schooled as diplomatic ombudsmen—hustled the board.

Whittling away at the drakh. Soothing when mere calm words would do. Referring callers to appropriate agencies—knowing it would be some time before any Jochi governmental department would be operational. Dispensing small Imperial embassy favors where they could.

Anything worthwhile was boiled into an intelligence monograph and sent on to Sten. So many such reports had been pouring in that Sten had wound up spending his whole morning in the com room, poring over the reports, as well as fielding a stream of calls only an ambassador could deal with.

The first call of the day had been from young Milhouz, urgently wanting to talk to the ambassador. Sten put this at the bottom of the mental stack of things he had to do.

Yes, he had promised the Pooshkan students a hearing with someone in authority. After meeting Dr. Iskra, Sten wasn't real sure how to make his promise good.

Later with that. He would figure out something—just as soon as he made sense of all these reports of scattered disturbances all over Jochi. Especially in the neighborhoods and ghettos of Rurik.

There were a few more blood feuds being settled than usual. But no rioting. Some small-scale street maneuvering by the militias. But no shots fired—in anger, at least. A slight increase in looting. Also family violence.

Sten scrolled on. He came to another urgent call from Milhouz. The com officer had boiled the message down to the following: "Have successfully won delay in ultimatum,"

it read. "Committee has agreed to extend deadline by one more week." Sten noted the com officer was Freston, his most senior and trusted dial-twiddler. Unfortunately, the man was far too efficient, and it had taken Sten to rescue him from a seemingly inevitable and murderously dull career running high-ranking REMF com staffs.

Under Observations, Freston had written: "Subject's manner outwardly calm. Voice box tension, however, indicates instability of individual. Sees Ambassador Sten as father figure. Suggested handling: Continue firm line. Softer approach will further feed instability."

Clottin' great, Sten thought. A father figure to a spoiled rich kid. He didn't even like Milhouz, thought of him as a shrill-voiced toady taking advantage of a group of equally useless individuals. Clot him! He would call back when he was good and ready. Father figure, my clottin'…

Sten skipped ahead, musing over other reports. Then he hit another warning. Panic buying had erupted. As well as hoarding. All over the planet, shops that stocked nonperishable food and drink were selling out. Fuel and cooking-oil stocks also were being depleted.

He did not like this. It meant that it was going to take a great deal more than fine-minded speeches for Iskra to convince people that some kind of normal life lay ahead.

Sten gazed at the drakh heaping higher and higher in his bowl. This defied Kilgour's law of drakh hitting the fan. Alex insisted that trouble came in threes. Sten disagreed, even if the axiom came from Kilgour's sainted "mum." It was Sten's opinion that trouble kept coming until you could take no more. Then you got hit twice more.

The com room door hissed open and Cind boiled in. He was glad to see her. But he was not glad to see the look on her face.

"I get the idea you're not here to tell me Iskra's idea of paradise has dawned on the streets of Rurik," Sten said.

"Not unless paradise includes storm troopers and mass arrests," Cind said.

Sten reacted in his best diplomatic manner. "Say clottin' what?"

"I've been checking up on those rumors of people going missing," she said. "They aren't rumors. I've got eyewitnesses. Heads of families—whole families, sometimes—are being grabbed right and left. By Iskra's soldiers."

"What kind of game is that man playing?" Sten asked. "He'll have the whole thing down around his ears before he barely gets started."

One of the com officers signaled him. "I've got another call from young Milhouz,"

he said. "He's holding right now. He says it's real important he talk to you. An emergency, he claims."

"Sure it is," Sten said. "Lie to him. Tell him I've been stricken with beriberi, or some such. Then get Dr. Iskra on the line. I want to talk to him. Now!"

A few minutes later, the thin-lipped face of Iskra appeared on the center vid screen.

"I understand you have a matter of some urgency," Iskra said.

"I'd like an explanation, is what I'd like, doctor."

"I don't appreciate your tone, Sr. Ambassador."

"I tend to sing in that key," Sten said, "when I hear a leader I am supporting is perilously close to embarrassing the man I answer to. The Eternal Emperor.''

"In what manner am I doing this?"

"I have confirmed reports, Dr. Iskra, that your soldiers are engaged in mass arrests."

"If you would have asked me first," Iskra said smoothly, "I would have confirmed that fact for you. Save you a great deal of trouble—and misunderstanding."

"Fine. I'm asking."

"Yes, there have been some arrests," Iskra said. "Although, I do think referring to them as mass arrests exaggerates the circumstances. For convenience's sake, the accused ones were arrested at much the same time, just as they were transported to and are being held in a single prison—Gatchin Fortress, which is the traditional site on Jochi for those beings in the public eye who have been indicted. I assure you, however, these are merely routine matters involving restoring stability to the cluster. My people want assurances that justice has returned to the Altaics.

"The individuals in question have been accused of various crimes. Some serious.

However, to be absolutely frank, I fully expect many of these accusations to prove false.

That they are victims of petty beings seeking revenge.

"But, as I indicated, people are demanding trials. Therefore, I shall give them those trials. Fair trials. So that anyone falsely accused can publicly clear his or her name."

This is a great load of drakh, Sten thought. "What about the guilty ones?" he asked.

"Aren't you treading heavily in places you shouldn't go?" Iskra asked. "What business is the justice system of the Altaics to the Imperial ambassador?"

"None at all," Sten admitted. "But I am determined to see the Emperor's orders carried out. Which means he expects a return to stability in the Altaics. Creating new blood feuds, doctor, is not a good way to accomplish this."

"I promise you, Sr. Ambassador," Iskra said, "the trials will be completely fair. And I will be as merciful as possible to the guilty. Does that satisfy you?"

Sten had to say it did. Of course, Iskra was lying. But Sten couldn't afford an open break with the man. He would lose all control, and the mission would be doomed.

"It was a pleasure talking to you, Sr. Sten," Iskra said when they were done. And the screen went blank.

"We'd better increase surveillance,'' Sten told Cind. "Get more of Kilgour's bats in the sky."

"You'll be needin' more'n Frick 'n Frack," Alex said. Sten jumped. He hadn't heard Kilgour enter. " 'Less m' ears're waxed tight, they're shootin' oop th' univers'ty."

Sten was astounded. "The students? Where'd they get the guns?''

"Ah dinnae think it wae kids doin' th' shootin'," Alex said.

"Clot!" was all Sten said. He raced for the door, Alex and Cind tearing after him.

As he sprinted through the embassy, shouting for the duty company of Bhor and the Gurkhas, and stormed out the door and across the broad grounds, the specter of complete disaster choked his mind. The little twerp Milhouz had been right about at least one thing. If something happened to the coddled young beings of Pooshkan, pure hell would break loose over the Altaics.

Sten could hear the sound of gunfire coming from the university as he reached the embassy gates.

Then he was brought up short. The boulevard outside was barred by many Jochi soldiers. Iskra's men. The soldiers were backed by two armored tracks.

A burly major loomed up at him.

"Get out of my way," Sten rasped.

"I'm sorry, Sr. Ambassador," the major said, "but I can't permit you to leave."

"By whose orders?"

"Dr. Iskra's orders, sir. But please don't misunderstand. It's for your own safety. I have also been instructed to apologize for any inconvenience. You'll be permitted to leave once the emergency has passed."

Sten heard more shots coming from Pooshkan. "Is that the emergency?'' he said.

The major shrugged. "Young hooligans are rioting. Committing terrible deeds.

Destroying public property. Murder. Looting. Sexual atrocities. It's a terrible, terrible thing."

"Lying clot!" he heard Cind mutter.

"I must see for myself," Sten said.

The major stayed professionally calm. But Sten could see the soldiers tense around him. Someone whispered, and there came the hum of turrets turning toward the embassy.

"I honestly can't permit it, sir," the major said. "Really. It's for your own safety.

Please don't press the point and force me to do my duty."

Sten was hollow inside as he turned away. He heard another burst of gunfire and what sounded like distant screams.

What the hell could he do? He thought about Milhouz and those other poor damned rich kids. Sure, he had no use for them. Would have wished them away and out of his life if he could.

If only he had returned Milhouz's calls sooner. If only he had…

Aw, clot!

Alex and Cind tried to soothe him as he headed back inside. There was nothing left to do now—except brace for the backlash.