THE RECKONING
Mahoney was locked and loaded with a bottle of scotch and a brace of tumblers when the Eternal Emperor came trooping into the throneroom.
Considering that he’d just returned from a meeting with a pack of industrialists and politicians, he was in a rare good mood.
Mahoney poured and the Emperor raised his glass. “Confusion to the enemy,” he decreed and took it all down in a single swallow. The general followed suit, then poured them both two more.
“What’s this all about, boss?” he said. “You usually come back from those meetings and start dictating a wet list, which I have to hide in the mess on your desk until you’ve calmed down enough to rescind the order.”
His boss barked with laughter. “So that’s why the political woods stay so thick,” he said. ”No matter how hard I try, my own people subvert my most excellent instinct to kill as many politicians as I can.”
“We do our best, boss,” Ian said.
“Next time, remind me to put your name at the top of the list,” he said.
“Oh, I will, boss,” Mahoney said. “Cross my heart and hope not to die.”
The Emperor said, “The reason I’m so delighted is that not only was our little mission to Demeter a resounding success, but we managed to pull it off without spending one thin credit.”
Mahoney was in the middle of taking another drink and choked on it.
“How the clot did you accomplish that, boss?” he said. “We not only had the cost of the Mantis team, and all that it entails, but we had several very expensive ships of war pulling extra duty, all kinds of collateral civilian damage at Chinen, plus a very expensive agworld experiment that went boobs up in the sun.”
As he spoke he ran a mental calculation, but he soon lost track of the number of zeroes in the column and gave up.
“I’ll be short and simple and sweet,” the Emperor said. “I showed my buddy Tanz Sullamora the fine print in our agworld contract that laid out the financial responsibilities.
“If you remember, he drove a hard bargain on his commission for every agworld we sold.”
Mahoney chuckled. “Oh, he laid it on thick, so the dear man did,” he said. “Accused us of starving his poor wee grandchildren.”
“Well, you might also recall,” the Emperor said, “that I relented. Gave him a bigger future commission in return for him eating all the expenses related to the building, testing, and operation of the agworlds.”
Light dawned for Mahoney. “Oh, you are devil from the hells, so you are, boss,” he said. “And I’m proud to know you.”
The mental calculation became easy now. In one column would go all the credits for the future sales of the agworlds. And in the other, all the expenses for Demeter’s final field test. Which proved to be such a disaster that would be no future sales.
“Oh, the poor wee man,” Ian said. “He must be down to his last trillion credits about now.”
“And so,” the Emperor said, “using only a single Mantis team we managed to wipe out the worst of the pirates—including the Himmenops and their queen. We stuck it to that Tahn drakh head, Lord Fehrle, who is getting behind-the—scenes blame for the debacle. And at the same time we revenged ourselves on the Wichmans.”
“We’re not quite done with the last bit of business, though,” Mahoney said. “Gregor’s gone to an early grave, so he is. However, we’ve yet to put paid to his old man.”
“But you’ve spoken to his chief of staff, right?” the Emperor asked. “That Khelee fellow.”
“So I did, sir,” Mahoney said. “We had to wait until Fehrle got out of the line of fire.”
“And rightly so,” the Emperor said. “Don’t need the grief of being blamed for the death of a Tahn bigwig just about now. Especially not with upcoming talks.”
“Khelee told us this morning that Fehrle’s gone now,” Ian said. “We’ll wait until he’s well on his way then he’ll trigger those bombs Sten planted in Wichman’s bar.”
“Nicely done, Ian,” the Emperor said. “Meanwhile, be sure to convey my personal thanks to young captain Sten and the rest of the team.”
Mahoney stirred in his seat. It seemed like the perfect time to bring forward his little idea regarding Sten.
“What’s up, Ian?” the Emperor said, sensing the change in mood. Spit it out, man. You’re in my good graces now. I’m not likely to bite your head off.”
“It’s about Captain Sten, sir,” he said.
The Emperor’s eyebrows rose along with his curiosity. “What about him?”
“There’s a lot more to that young man then just a Mantis operative,” Mahoney said. “I think with some seasoning, he could become one of our more valuable assets.”
“In other words,” the Emperor said, “you think it’s time to bring him to court. Show him what the play is like on the grand stage.”
The Emperor toyed with his drink, slowly rotating the tumbler. His instincts told him that he was about to make a bigger decision than Mahoney realized.
He flipped the mental coin. Saw how it landed. Polished off his drink.
“Give him a shout, Ian,” he said. “I have just the place for him.”