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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"I attempted to warn you, Colin," Dahak said softly.
Colin shuddered. Emperor? That was... was... Words failed. He couldn't think of any that even came close.
"Colin?" Jiltanith's voice was gentler than Dahak's, and far more anxious.
"Yes, 'Ta
"How dost thou, my love? We did hear thee scream. Art thou—?"
"I-I'm fine, 'Ta
"May I not come to thee?" She sounded less anxious—but not a lot.
"I'd like that," he said, and he had never spoken more sincerely in his life. Then he shook his head. "Wait. Let me make sure it's safe."
He gathered himself and raised his voice.
"Mother?"
"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty?" the voice replied, and he flinched.
"Mother, I'd like one of my officers to join me. Her implant signatures won't be in your data base either. Can you have Security pass her through?"
"If Your Imperial Majesty so instructs," Mother responded.
"My Imperial Majesty certainly does," Colin said, and smiled crookedly. Maybe he wasn't going to crack up entirely, after all.
"Query: please identify the officer to be admitted."
"Uh? Oh. Fleet Captain Jiltanith, Dahak's executive officer. My wife."
"Acknowledged."
"'Ta
"I come, my love," she said, and he stretched out in his couch, knowing she would soon be there. His shudders drained outward along his limbs until the final echoes tingled in his fingers and his breathing slowed.
"Mother."
"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty?"
"What was all that? What happened when you executed Case Omega, I mean?"
"Emergency subroutines were terminated, ending Fleet Central's caretaker role upon Your Imperial Majesty's assumption of the throne."
"I figured that part out. I want a specific explanation of what you did."
"Fleet Central performed its function as guardian of the succession, Your Imperial Majesty. As senior Fleet officer and civil official listed in Fleet Central's data base, Your Imperial Majesty, as per the Great Charter, became the proper successor upon the demise of the previous dynasty. However, Your Imperial Majesty was unknown to Fleet Central prior to Your Imperial Majesty's accession. It was therefore necessary for Fleet Central to obtain gene samples for verification of the heirs of Your Imperial Majesty's body and to evaluate Your Imperial Majesty's gestalt and implant it upon Fleet Central's primary data cortex."
Colin frowned. There were too many things here he didn't yet understand, but there were were a few others to get straight right now.
"Mother, can't we do something about the titles?"
"Query not understood, Your Imperial Majesty."
"I mean— Look, just what titles have I saddled myself with?
"Your principle title is 'His Imperial Majesty Colinmacintyre the First, Grand Duke of Birhat, Prince of Bia, Warlord and Prince Protector of the Realm, Defender of the Five Thousand Suns, Champion of Humanity, and, by the Maker's Grace, Emperor of Mankind.' Secondary titles are: 'Prince of Aalat,' 'Prince of Achon,' 'Prince of Anhur,' 'Prince of Apnar,' 'Prince of Ardat,' 'Prince of Aslah,' 'Prince of Avan,' 'Prince of Bachan,' 'Prince of Badarchin,' 'Prin—' "
"Stop," Colin commanded. Jesus! "Uh, just how many titles are there?"
"Excluding those already specified," Mother replied, "four thousand eight hundred and twenty-one."
"Gaaa." Not bad for the product of a good, republican upbringing, he thought. "Let's get one thing straight, Mother. My name is Colin MacIntyre—two words—not 'Colinmacintyre.' Can you remember that in future?"
"You are listed in Fleet and Imperial records as His Imperial Majesty Colinmacintyre the First, Grand Duke of Birhat, Prince of Bia, War—"
"I understand all that," Colin interrupted. "The point is, I don't want to go around with everyone 'Imperial Majesty'-ing me, and I prefer to be called 'Colin,' not 'Colinmacintyre.' Can't we do something to meet my wishes?"
"As Your Imperial Majesty commands. You have not yet designated your choice of reign name. Until such time as you have done so, you will be known as Colinmacintyre the First; thereafter, only your dynasty will bear your complete pre-accession name. Is that satisfactory?"
"It's a start," Colin muttered, refusing to contemplate the thought of his "dynasty." He tugged on his nose, then stopped himself. At the rate surprises were coming at him lately, he was going to start looking like Pinocchio. "All right. My 'reign name' will be 'Colin.' Please log it."
"Logged," Mother replied.
"Now, about those titles. Surely past emperors didn't get called 'Your Imperial Majesty' every time they turned around, did they?"
"Acceptable alternatives are 'Your Majesty,' 'Majesty,' 'Highest,' and 'Sire.' Nobles of the rank of Planetary Duke are permitted 'My Lord.' Flag officers and Companions of The Golden Nova are permitted 'Warlord.' "
"Crap. Uh, I don't suppose I could get you to forget titles entirely?"
"Negative, Your Imperial Majesty. Protocol imperatives must be observed."
"That's what you think," Colin muttered. "Just wait till I get my hands on your 'protocol' programming!" He shook his head. "All right, if I'm stuck with it, I'm stuck, but from now on you'll use only 'Sire' when addressing me."
"Acknowledged."
"Good! Now—" He broke off as a soft chime sounded.
"Your pardon, Sire. Empress Jiltanith has arrived. Shall I admit her?"
"You certainly shall!" Colin leapt down the steps from the dais and reached the i
"Am I ever glad to see you!" he whispered against the side of her neck.
"And I thee." She turned her head to kiss his ear. "Greatly did I fear for thee, yet such timorousness ill beseemed one who knoweth thee so well. Hast more lives than any cat, my sweet, yet 'twould please me the better if thou wouldst spend them less freely!"
"Goddamn right," he said fervently, drawing back to kiss her mouth. "Next time, I listen to you, by God!"
"So thou sayst... now," she laughed, tugging on his prominent ears with both hands.
A sudden thought woke a mischievous smile as he tucked an arm around her waist to escort her back to the dais, and he raised his voice.
"Mother, say hello to my wife."
"Hello, Your Imperial Majesty," Mother said obediently, and Jiltanith stopped dead.
"What foolishness is this?" she demanded.
"Get used to it, honey," Colin said, squeezing her again. "For whatever it's worth, your shiftless husband's brought home the bacon this time." He gri
Several hours later, a far less chipper Colin groaned and scrubbed his face with his hands. Jiltanith and he sat side-by-side on Fleet Central's command couch while Mother reported Battle Fleet's status, ru
And, so far, nothing she'd had to report was good.
"Hold report, Mother," he said, breaking into the computer's flow.
"Holding, Sire," Mother agreed, and Colin laughed hollowly. "Emperor"—that was a laugh. And "Warlord" was even fu
The Empire had been too busy dying for an orderly shutdown. Herdan XXIV had lived long enough to activate Fleet Central's emergency subroutines, placing Mother on powered-down standby to guard Birhat until relief might someday arrive, but most of Battle Fleet hadn't been even that lucky. A few score supralight vessels had simply disappeared from Fleet Central's records, which probably indicated that their crews had elected to flee in an effort to outrun the bio-weapon, but most of Battle Fleet's units had been contaminated in their efforts to save civilians in the weapon's path. The result had been both predictable and grisly, and, unlike Dahak, their computers hadn't been smart enough to do anything about it when they found themselves without crews. Except for a handful whose core taps had been active when their last crewmen died, they'd simply returned to the nearest Fleet base and remained on station until their fusion plants exhausted their on-board mass, then drifted without life or power.