But, under the shadow of Lombar, forced to it by his orders—and even, I must admit in this case, enjoying the vindictive flavor of it—I swept aside assorted pens and stamps and sat down to compose my masterpieces.
It took me quite a while, what with scratch-outs and additions, but I was finished by the time the two forgers arrived.
They sat down at their tables and I put the rough drafts before them. It made me smile to see them flinch.
“I don’t think we have the right paper,” said the senior.
“Get it,” I said. “Right now. Get it!”
He fished around for a time, going through materials in the cases. He finally found two sheets of what he needed.
The other forger said, “I don’t think we have the right seals.”
“I think you have,” I said.
He raked about in some old boxes and finally located some that could be converted.
They were both a bit white and terrified, as well they might be. Because I have enough on both of them, material not even in the master data files, and they elected to commit the present crime on the basis that it was less painful than the revelation of old crimes.
Forgers are very funny people. There is a streak of artist in them and, along with it, artistic pride, and soon they were both deeply immersed in concentration and ink. I did not have to tell them to do the best possible job. Their own tradecraft was a matter of self-respect. But, more than that, if these two forgeries had the tiniest detectable flaw in them, and if they were prematurely exposed, half the Domestic Police Division would be on their trail. Necessity breeds precision!
I sat down on a case full of unused execution orders and waited. The tongues of the forgers suffered the clenching of teeth, the pens drew out, with painful slowness, the flowing swirls and ornate convolutions these documents required. Two hours was not too long to wait, for they were making absolutely undetectable masterpieces.
Finally they came to the stamps. Only one of the documents required the final affixations of seals.
At last, sweating, sort of proud and terrified at the same time, they were blowing the waxes dry.
The junior looked at them for any flaw. The senior compared them critically to a book containing facsimiles of the real thing.
“Gods,” said the junior. “They look realer than the real thing!” There was some pride in it. “I do think that the only way they could be detected as artificial would be by inspecting the Royal Issue Log itself! And no one outside of Palace City has access to that. These are masterpieces!”
The senior forger got down a pair of official covers and then a thin waterproof envelope with body tapes.
As he was assembling them, he said to me, “You know, of course, that possession of a forgery of the Royal signature and seals gets immediate torture and execution. These will never be traced to us. We have forgotten we ever heard of them. But just carrying these on your person, Officer Gris, if found and detected, would be the finish of you. With embellishments.”
He handed over the packet but didn’t let go of it. “Open your tunic so I can tape this to your chest.” And as he worked at it, “It is clever, of course, as these would never appear in the master data files. But they would appear in the Royal Log in Palace City. If anyone ever tried to present them there, the first thing that would happen would be a check and verification of the Royal Issue Log. It would show that these two documents had never been issued. The result would be immediate seizure of the presenting person, torture and execution.”
He had finished up and, as I rebuttoned my tunic, looked at me gravely. “I hope you know what you are doing. Be very careful to whom you show these. Keep the matter folded in the deepest secrecy. Even if you gave them to somebody, that person could implicate you as well.”
As I opened the door to leave, the senior forger shook his head. “My Gods, Officer Gris, you must be awfully mad at those people.” That, from a forger who routinely forged things that got people imprisoned and executed, was quite a compliment.
I didn’t even bother to stop by my desk. I had places to go.
I had lots of time, really: it was only ten o’clock. But I said to the driver, “Open that throttle!”
He was doing two hundred in the thick, midmorning traffic. “Who the Hells do you think I am?” he said crossly. “I can’t drive like Heller and you know it!”
He was getting awfully insolent lately. I was about to reach forward and bat him one when I realized that if we were to have a crash and live through it, this packet might be found on me. I forcefully checked my impatience and let him bumble along.
The Great Desert fled beneath us. There were more sun-dancers today but I spent no time watching them. My eyes were fixed on the ugly hulk of Spiteos, swelling in size as we closed the distance to it.
This was going to be very sweet.
PART NINE
Chapter 7
The training room, when I came in, was in its usual turmoil. It had been cleaned again and stank of army disinfectant. The assistant trainers were putting various people through their paces: here a special agent getting skilled in the use of electronic needle bombs blown from a tube; there, two claw fighters learning how to look like they were tearing each other apart without suffering the slightest injury beyond the stain of fake blood; over there, an act with a magician and a primate who seemed to be exchanging roles in making each other disappear.
And there was the Countess Krak, my quarry. She wasn’t doing any training: apparently she had turned all that over to assistants now. She was wearing a powder blue, one-piece exercise suit; she had her silky hair bound back with a powder blue band; her sparkling ankle boots were twinkling as she worked upon a pair of rings. She was shooting herself up in the air, her toes moving rapidly in cross-uncross twitches, and then at the top she would flip upside down and catch herself with her heels in the rings. She was very graceful.
She seemed very happy. When I drew near her I could even hear that she was humming a little song. She was very beautiful. She saw me suddenly and the smile went off her face. But she dropped down to the floor. “Hello, Soltan.” A bit wary.
I was the picture of glad but secret tidings. I glanced around and saw a hidden corner back of some old machines. “I have wonderful news,” I whispered. I went over to the corner, beckoning.
She came over. I glanced all around and made very sure that we could not be seen nor overheard and also that no one could come up on us suddenly.
I beckoned with my fingers to get her to move even closer. I whispered, “I have just had the most glorious audience.”
That phrasing meant only one thing. “The Emperor?” she said. “You?”
I looked very modest. I fiddled with my emerald insignia locket. “Really, it is because Jettero is so important.” I knew she would accept that. “But who can fail to shine in reflection of his glory. It is just that I have the good fortune to be associated with him.” She was buying it.
“You see,” I continued, “I was terribly concerned that he might be injured or hurt.” Aha, the (bleepch) thought that the hypnotic suggestion was still in place, (bleep) her. She was nodding: she thought she understood that very well.
“So I have gently been pulling strings,” I continued with the most innocent face I could manage. Then I looked around to make sure we were alone and drew much closer to her and dropped my voice. “I really should not be telling you any of this. It is the most secret of State secrets. It was thoroughly impressed upon me that I must not reveal it to a soul!”
I managed to look puzzled, very slightly. “I am not sure why I felt so compelled to come and tell you at once.” Ah, she was really buying it, the filthy (bleepch) with her hypnotic tricks! I put on a “little boy” look that women can’t reject—it raises the motherhood in them. “But in addition to that, I really could not see how I could do it alone. I desperately need your help.”
Oh, she was eager to give it. Anything that had to do with Heller was her top, and
maybe only, priority.
I resumed the confidential manner. “I could probably be severely punished for revealing any of this,” I said. And then seemed to regret my incaution and drew back a bit. But women are absolute sponges of curiosity.
“I promise no one else will hear it from me,” she said eagerly.
“It would be my life if they did,” I said. I resumed. “Really, I have no choice as I need your help in this. May we sit down?”
I raked a couple of stools over into the hidden corner. By turning our faces to the wall, slightly, it was doubly difficult for anyone to see what we were about should they walk up. I began to undo a couple of my tunic buttons and reached in as though about to produce the packet. But I didn’t. Her eagerness, of course, became intense enough to overweigh some of her natural critical sense.
“Before dawn this morning,” I whispered, “a Palace City air-limousine came for me secretly. Honestly, I was terrified at first: I thought I was being taken for interrogation. They brought me into the palace by a back route and through a secret door. They led me to a room that had a vast swimming bath. Honestly, I never knew they threw rare rugs around the edges of a swimming bath. I waited for half an hour—I was very nervous, I can tell you.
“And then there he was! I could hardly believe my eyes, he is so seldom seen. He entered in a sparkling morning robe. Cling the Lofty himself! Honestly, I could have died. There I was in no dress uniform or anything.
“His Majesty said, ‘Is this the officer in charge of Mission Earth?’ and the escort officer said it was.
“The king took his robe off and took his morning swim—honestly, I didn’t know he swam every morning: and in a diamond pool, too! Imagine it!
“I just stood and waited, scared to death, not knowing what I’d done wrong. But after a while His Majesty came out of the bath and lay down on some cushions and a couple of his yellow-men began to lard him with perfumes. He made a gesture at a spot near him and the escort shoved me to that spot.
“His Majesty said, ‘I have always believed that Jettero Heller was a very good man.’”
As I expected, this produced an instant reaction from her. Wide-eyed. Amongst a hundred and ten planets and tens of millions of officers, one would not expect an Emperor, even one with a brilliant memory, to know the name of a junior officer. She was now grabbing for every word. To myself, I thought, you asked for it, you (bleepch), and now you are getting it.
I continued, “After a bit His Majesty looked at me puzzled. He said, ‘So there is some other reason why he is delaying his departure on this mission and I have brought you here to tell me!’
“Honestly, I expected his next words would order me executed. Well, I am not that brave. And so I am afraid I betrayed some confidences. No, no,” I added hastily, “don’t start so with alarm. This has a very happy ending.” It filled me with private glee to say those words. The “happy ending” would be total tragedy for them both.
“Forgive me, Countess. I am an officer and know where my duty lies. I am even imperiling myself to relate this to you. But what could I say? Now,” I said, changing the subject slightly, “has Jettero shown you the clipping? The one that concerns you?”
She probably didn’t know that I knew. She nodded.
I continued, “I had never heard of it before. If I had, I would have acted sooner. But to get on. I had to tell His Majesty the real reason the mission was delayed.”
I could practically hear her heart beating rapidly inside her chest.
“His Majesty hectored me. He told me that the most vast and secret affairs of state depended upon a successful completion of that mission. He sounded very provoked and when it occurred to me that, because of this, he might hurt Heller, I got very sick at my stomach! The thought was that awful.”
Gullible (bleepch). You think that hypnotic suggestion is still in place. Ah, you’re going to pay for that, (bleep) you. Look at you nod!
I drew a long breath as though it had been a painful moment. And then I got back to my lying. “Sick as I felt, I simply had to plead with him. Oh, I tell you, even the yellow-men rubbing the perfumed lard into him were frightened that anyone should seek to plead with the Emperor about anything. But something, I don’t know what, was making me desperate.
“I told him that he knew and I knew that Jettero Heller was the only one who could do the mission to Blito-P3. He agreed with that, as Jettero had done the original mission. And then I did something I couldn’t ever before have imagined myself capable of. I suggested—imagine that, suggesting something to Cling the Lofty! I don’t know where I found the courage—that if Jettero Heller’s immediate personal problems were removed, the mission could go quite quickly.
“And you know what he did? Oh, it is plain to see why he is the Emperor! He called in his scribes right that moment and he dictated to them. And they wrote it all down. And then he rolled over and looked at me and he said, ‘Never let it be believed that I do not concern myself with the welfare of my officers and subjects. Part of the power of ruling should always be devoted to justice. But you will note that the second document is unsigned. The mission is important to the State beyond belief. See to it.’ And then he had them give me the documents and he waved to them to take me off.”
I glanced around to verify that we were still hidden. The sounds of the training room even seemed far away. I drew from under my blouse the packet.
I reverently opened the first one and, holding it, let her read it.
Adorned and embellished and covered with swirls and curling letters it said:
Secret
Not to Be Unauthorizedly Seen
Know All:
We, Cling the Lofty, Majestic and Undisputed Ruler of the vast Realm of Galaxies, Stars and Planets known throughout Heavens as the Voltar Confederacy, Emperor of All Dominions Whatever, Conquered & as Yet Unconquered, Do Hereby and Herewith Secretly Decree:
The MISSION BLITO-P3 of current date, secret and vital to the realm, shall go forward with complete speed, dispatch and expedition, without compromise or halt.
And I do pledge our Royal and inviolate word to wit:
That when Jettero Heller, Grade Ten, Combat Engineer, Fleet Corps of Engineers, shall have successfully concluded said MISSION, even though it be easy and nonperilous, he shall be suitably rewarded. It is noted that he has served as a frontline combat engineer three times as long as the normal life expectancy in that profession and it is unreasonable to expect he would survive much longer.
Therefore, to wit and witness:
Upon the return of said Jettero Heller, reserving only that he shall have rapidly carried it out to complete success, he shall be attached thereafter to the Royal Staff of Palace City, freed from the absences and perils of the Fleet.
SEALED, SIGNED, STAMPED,
VALIDATED, AUTHORIZED &
LOGGED THIS DATE:
Cling the Lofty Emperor!
She was hardly breathing. All this stuff about safety! How clever of me! I had had it measured exactly! The (bleepch), there she sat, utterly starry-eyed!
After a while she sort of came out of it. “You said there were two.”
“Yes. But this one is unsigned. His Majesty is quite clever. He wants something. He wants this mission. He promised to sign this second one when presented and when the mission is successfully completed. See, that’s what it says.”
I unfolded the second forgery and held it so she could read it. It, too, had all the swirls and curling letters. It said:
Secret
To Be Signed on the Completion of
Mission Blito-P3
Know all:
We, Cling the Lofty, Majestic and Undisputed Ruler of the vast Realm of the Galaxies, Stars and Planets known throughout Heavens as the Voltar Confederacy, Emperor of All Dominions Whatever, Conquered & as Yet Unconquered, Do Hereby and Herewith Secretly Decree:
The female once known as Lissus Moam, actually of the family of Krak and also known as the Countess Krak, by reason of
a deathbed confession of the true instigator of numerous crimes, is resurrected from the dead and is restored not only her papers and identity but also all the lands once held by said noble family Krak.
Royal permission is also granted to this said person to marry Jettero Heller, but only at such time as he has joined the Royal Staff on transfer from the Fleet.
NOT VALID UNTIL SEALED, SIGNED, STAMPED,
VALIDATED & AUTHORIZED BY FINAL
SIGNATURE
BUT LOGGED THIS DATE
AS AN ORDER
PENDING SIGNATURE.