Ingvar adopted a disapproving posture. “I do, sir, but you will not like it.”
I guffawed. “You cannot know why I want to see him. How could you possibly know what I will and will not like?”
“Call it a servant’s intuition, sir,” the hordling answered.
“Regardless, tell me where he is,” I ordered. Ingvar toldme, and dammit, he was right: I did not like Count Zukov’s location.
Twenty minutes later, I crossed between two heavily armed Imperial guards onto the lancer range. The high-pitched pangs of lancer bolts firing, the burned-metal smell of shells, the conflagratory flares as targets burst into flame all brought me back to the front. I wasn’t a minor Commonwealth diplomat, or the Emperor’s Consort, or the negotiator of the quadrant’s future. Now I was a Royal officer, and I had orders to give.
It’s a supply problem, I thought.He has the supplies you need. You have the authority to requisition them, but he outranks you. You don’t want to force him; you’d rather he give the materiel willingly, but you can order him to give them over if you want. You’ve done this a hundred times.
This was why I had worn my parade dress tunic. In war, when giving orders and assuming authority, a properly pressed parade dress uniform was better armor than a fully charged shield.
Count Zukov was in a private shooter’s booth, putting rounds through a double-barreled long lancer, too long and heavy for a human to use, but elegant in his massive hands. I noted his accuracy was middling-fair, but that was at two hundred yards. I would be speaking to him at point-blank range.
The count broke his lancer open, ejecting both rapidly cooling shells from the breech. As he reached for another pair of magma shells, he noticed me and straightened. “Consort.”
I spoke in Imperial. My accent was still decidedly foreign, but several days in the Emperor’s company had brought back much of what I’d forgotten in her absence.
“Count. I need to speak to you.”
“Of course. How may I assist the Emperor’s Consort?” he responded in a voice like shingles shifting.
“It concerns the Emperor,” I said curtly.
That got Zukov’s attention. He lay the long lancer rifle on the bench and stood. “One would think you could speak to her directly about such things.”
I made a noncommittal gesture. “In this matter, she will not listen to me.”
“If she will not heed her Consort, what hope has a mere count of catching her ear?” Zukov tried to brush past me, but I grabbed his elbow.
“I know the Federation is planning to betray its allies,” I hissed up at him.
Zukov was silent, but he stopped and his face went carefully blank. His lack of reaction confirmed my suspicions. “So you’re in on it. How disappointing. Somehow, I thought you were more direct than that. How could you believe the Federation will act in good faith?”
The count took a step back, ostensibly to speak to me better, but I noticed it brought him within easy reach of the lancer rifle. “My reasons are direct enough. Despite my suspicions as to who caused New Melbourne’s Fall, the Emperor has proven so myopically focused on avoiding a second Fall that she neglects the Empire’s future. Thus it falls to me to think of our best interests.”
“Did you know of New Melbourne’s Fall?” I asked, incredulous.
Zukov shook his head minutely. “Not until after I spoke with you. I was leading an offensive on the Silesian front when the Emperor ordered a halt and summoned me here. After speaking with you, I had too many questions, and the Emperor took me into her confidence about the true purpose of this gathering.”
“And the issue of who caused a Fall event does not concern you? It doesn’t matter that the Federation might have tripped the Fall event themselves?”
“It matters less than ending the war on good terms. The Federation offers us what we want from this war now. Whether they act in good faith or not, we can take what we have conquered, cement Imperial power in the quadrant, and avoid another Fall event.”
“You believe that? I thought you were a man of sense.” Count Zukov bristled slightly. I held up a placating hand. “Even if they are not responsible for New Melbourne, the Federation is an unstable, untrustworthy ally. The moment you show weakness, they will strike, all while maintaining the façade of friendship.”
“This is what they have done with you. They will not find the Empire so exposed,” Zukov growled.
“Have they not already? They’ve already found a schism in the Imperial ranks and exploited it to end the war on their terms, or do you think a truly unified Empire would have stopped advancing on the eve of victory?” Zukov did not respond, either verbally or violently, so I took that as leave to continue convincing him. “Tell me this, if the Emperor destroyed the Commonwealth outright, could the Federation defeat her armies? Could they even last another ten years? Maybe, but I doubt they would last two. Your armed forces would grind the Federation to powder, just like the Commonwealth. The only ones who benefit from the Federation’s deal are the Federation themselves and those Imperials who will use it to advance up the Imperial ladder. How stable do you think that ladder will stay when the Federation breaks your treaty?”
“I suppose you’re here to stop me,” Zukov asked, his face still blank.
I had to choose my words carefully, but somehow, I felt in total control. I knew what to say.
“I’m not going to stop you. I’m going to speak, you willlisten, and when I am done speaking, you will stop yourself.”
Count Zukov’s hand relaxed ever so slightly, moving a minute distance away from the hilt of his zeroblade dirk. “Speak, then.”
