Idrian Sertu, the Minister of War, glared around the room. The Imperial Council sat around the low, large round table. The various Ministers waited for the Emperor to arrive.

  The Ministers chatted amiably, all except for Idrian, who glowered at the rest of the room. The Minister of Technology tried to engage him, but Idrian glared at him until he gave up the attempt.

  The Emperor was a little late, but that happened sometimes. The man had a whole galaxy to run, he could be forgiven the occasional tardiness.

  The minutes stretched out. The chatter slowed, became more hesitant. Idrian raised an eyebrow. Eyes fixed on the door that the Emperor usually came through, but it remained shut.

  The discussion became quieter, damping down to whispers. Speculation and worries circled the assembled Ministers.

  Finally the door creaked open, twenty minutes late. The Emperor entered, moving slowly. Instead of his usual bold stride, he came in shuffling, hunched.

  Alarmed whispers flew between the Ministers. Idrian saw an opportunity.

  "Your Majesty," he said, standing. "Can I help you?"

  "I'm fine, I'm fine," the Emperor said. Even his voice sounded strained, hoarse. The Ministers shared glances that were bordering on terrified.

  Idrian rushed to his side and hovered, guiding the Emperor to his seat. Even Idrian was not so bold as to actually lay hands on the Emperor without leave, but he stood ready to help. He pulled the Emperor's seat out for him.

  "Thank you, young Idrian, I'm fine," the Emperor said, sitting carefully.

  It was all Idrian could do not to smirk. Whatever was going on with the Emperor, the entire Council now had the image of Idrian caring for the Emperor, helping him, supporting him. It was a good look.

  If this... sickness, or whatever, ended up being a long-term issue, perhaps Idrian could worm his way into being a caretaker or helpmeet.

  What better way to allay any suspicions about his involvement with the conspiracy, while staying close to the Emperor's ear?

  "My apologies," the Emperor said. "I've been feeling a bit under the weather lately. Perhaps I should take a little vacation here soon. But please, don't worry about me. Let's begin. Minister Seumic, would you start us off?"

  Edvar Seumic, Minister of Finance, stood shakily to his feet. Nobody on the Council had never even seen the Emperor with so much as a sniffle, much less whatever this was. It was like watching a mountain get sick.

  Idrian watched the Emperor with glittering eyes as the unsettled Ministers gave their updates.

  "This meeting of the Bolt of Justice is in session," Senn Sehren said. Then he cackled.

  "Well, well," he continued, "It looks like our dear Admiral is floundering. His little Assistant got stranded back on her homeworld, and Admiral Stonefist doesn't know what to do any more. It won't be long until he falls back into his old habits of inaction. Unless he decides to try something truly spicy." Senn rubbed his hands together.

  "Yes, yes, we know, you hate Admiral Stonefist," groused Rax, the industrialist. "Really, he was just a roadblock. Now he's out of the way. Good job. Let's move on. This personal animosity is unbecoming of you."

  "As many plans as that man's ruined, I think I'm permitted a little personal animosity." Senn said. "Besides, if he gets drastic, it could make our lives much easier."

  "Yes, well, as you've said, he's ruined enough plans. Let's not bank on him suddenly helping our cause."

  "Oh, very well. I'd think you'd be happier, he finally handled your Oryndrax problem."

  Rax nodded slowly.

  "I don't have to pay for dead soldiers, that's true, but now I don't have a fleet. We don't have a fleet. The bugs were expensive but easy to use. Mercenaries would be far more expensive, and we'd never find enough to mount any kind of real threat to the Imperium. There are no internal threats worth allying with. Even the Fyronix have halted hostilities. The Imperium is just too big."

  "Ah, remember, dear Rax, our purpose right now is not to develop a military force to directly challenge the Imperium. We only need to erode faith in the Imperium."

  "We still have the same problem," Rax said. "Unless you know of another large enemy force we could leverage. Maybe someone outside the galaxy?"

  "I know of a force even better," Senn said with a wide grin. "How about a large number of hostiles, already in the galaxy, already with their own ships, that already hate and fear the Imperium?"

  "Okay... did I miss something in the news, then? Where are you going to magic up this amazing army?"

  "From the pirate bases around the galaxy."

  "Pirates? Have you taken leave of your senses?"

  "That's the same thing you said when I recommended we ally with the Oryndrax."

  "Yeah, and how did that work out?"

  "Very well, thank you, until Admiral Stonefist meddled."

  Rax bit his tongue.

  "Okay, so tell me how you think we'll be able to use these pirates."

  Senn leaned forward, his eyes lighting up.

  "Just like with the Oryndrax, we use them for raids around the galaxy. Hit vulnerable points, but areas that will get a lot of attention. Civilian targets, mostly. We can direct them to some ghastly targets-- orphanages, temples, shopping centers, targets that will get people good and scared. Outraged. The pirates get lots of goodies, and the Imperium gets lots of bad press. If we can keep Admiral Stonefist suppressed and feed the pirates a steady stream of safe areas for them to attack, it could work out well. Maybe we can find a larger or more disciplined band of pirates for military strikes as we need them."

  Rax sat back, his brow furrowed.

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  "I don't know. Pirates are undisciplined and lazy. They probably don't take direction all that well. What do you think, Idrian?"

  Idrian the courtier had been sitting back, unusually quiet during the meeting.

  "There's something wrong with the Emperor," he said absently.

  "Wrong?" Senn asked. "Wrong how?"

  "He's... sick or something. I don't know. He doesn't look well."

  "Well, he shouldn't look well," Rax said. "The man's, what, 300 years old? At least?"

  Idrian shook his head.

  "The Emperor doesn't get sick," he said. "He doesn't age. He's just... the Emperor. I've seen pictures and holos of him, hundreds of years old. He looks exactly the same as he did then."

  "Interesting," Senn said. "If the Emperor is in a period of decline, that could serve us well. More disruption, more loss of faith in the Imperium." Senn nodded. "'The Emperor, sick and unable to rule, and the Imperium crumbling without his leadership.' I can sell that narrative."

  Idrian nodded, but his expression was unsettled.

  "I wonder... I wonder if the Emperor might be dying."

  "Dying?" Rax said. "That's quite a leap from being sick." He thought for a moment. "What are the laws of succession, anyway?"

  "There aren't any," Idrian said quietly. "The Imperium has never needed any."

  "It doesn't matter if he's dying or not," Senn said. "If he looks sick, people will get scared and draw their own conclusions. It all works to our benefit."

  Idrian shook himself.

  "Right. Whatever war we want to start, we need to do it soon. I want to every excuse to be by the Emperor's side as much as possible."

  His expression hardened.

  "If there's to be a succession, I will be first in line."

  Kinnit stood in the tiny kitchen of the tiny apartment, holding a limp, black, tattered cloak in her hands.

  She took a deep breath. Tonight was the night. Dass had said she was as ready as she'd ever be. She tried to go over all his lessons, all his tips in her mind, but her thoughts were too scattered to focus.

  No more learning. Now she had to act.

  For Dass. For Grimthorn. For the Imperium.

  She wrapped the cloak around her, and with it, her alter ego. Tazrika flared the cloak out around herself.

  "You look good," Dass said. "You're fitting into the role well. I think you've got a chance of pulling this off."

  "Who cares what you think?" Tazrika sneered and walked out the door.

  Dass grinned at her retreating back, his face a mix of pride and horror.

  The walk to Rusthollow was longer than she'd expected. She could call Dass on her scanner if she got in a bind, but they'd both agreed that it would look funny if he drove her in.

  She'd be on her own. The mission was simple enough: infiltrate the Electroveil Collective, find out their plans, figure out why they were making so many moves lately. At the same time, be subtle, don't stand out, don't draw attention.

  Tazrika grinned, already discarding part of the plan. "Subtle" was not her style. She flared her cloak again. It was good. It felt good, walking like this: bold and brash, loose and free instead of the tight and constrained movements expected in the military.

  Warehouse 17 full of light and raucous music. Sectional rollup doors were open, and SSes spilled out into the street. Clearly this was more of a social post than a chamber for secret discussions.

  Tazrika strode up to the open rollup doors. Two mole-like Tunnorlisk dressed in leather jackets were bobbing their heads to the Scratch music blaring from the speakers nearby. Tazrika walked up to them.

  "I'm looking for Krassik," she yelled over the music.

  One of the Tunnorlisk shrugged, but the other gestured to the interior of the warehouse. She nodded and walked in.

  She scanned the interior. Trash and makeshift furniture filled the space. Graffiti covered the walls. The glare of white light poured down from arrays of cheap fixtures mounted high overhead.

  She spotted Krassik across the warehouse. She flared her cloak and made a beeline for him.

  He was leaned back in a plastic chair, with his feet up on a table made of a repurposed steel cable spool. As she drew closer, Tazrika could see that his tongue lolled out, and he had two electrodes attached to his temples. Two long-snouted female Zephelids flanked him, their stunted wings spread out around him. They looked coolly at Tazrika as she walked up.

  "Hey, Krassik," one of the Zephelids asked, nudging him, "do you know this--" and then she used a word that Tazrika didn't recognize, but it didn't sound like it translated to "precocious young lady."

  Krassik's eyes slowly focused and he raised his head. It took a few seconds for his eyes to find Tazrika and dial in on her.

  "Oh, hey! Little hatchling! You came!" He jerked the electrodes loose and his eyes cleared up. He turned to the girls next to him. "This is the hatchling I was telling you about, the one that shredded up those Terrans!" He turned back to Tazrika. "Hey, I didn't catch your name before." He held out his hand.

  "Tazrika the Gripple," she said. She took his hand in a firm handshake, using more claw than was strictly necessary.

  "Krassik the Saurian," he said, wincing. He withdrew his hand. "Come and sit! You want a little hit?" he said, gesturing at the electrodes lying on the table.

  "No, thanks. I like to keep a clear head."

  "Hey, it's cool. This has Arcturan regulators. Guaranteed safe."

  Tazrika's mouth twisted and she glared at Krassik.

  "Music and stimtrons? Is this it? Sorry, I thought you people were serious." She turned to leave.

  "Hey, hey, no, don't be like that. We're frosty. Come on, sit and hang out for a while."

  Tazrika raised an eyebrow, but slowly took a seat at the table.

  One of the girls flanking Krassik sneered.

  "I thought Gripples were like frogs," she said. "You don't look like a frog."

  Tazrika sneered back.

  "Then try reading a book sometime," she said. "Gridna is a big planet with a lot of species." She leaned back in the chair, putting her feet up on the table, flexing her claws. "So what's the deal here?"

  Krassik grinned and gestured around the warehouse and all its denizens.

  "Tazrika, welcome to the Electroveil Collective. EVC for short."

  "Okay, aside from a cool name, what are you all about?"

  Krassik leaned forward and grinned, showing all his jagged yellow teeth.

  "The EVC is the toughest gang in Techterra. SS only, no citizens allowed. We run all the grift downtown and in Newburg." He pulled the two Zephelids close. "And we know how to party!"

  Tazrika quirked a smile.

  "So, vice and indulgence? I got the feeling you were a little more... political."

  "Right to it, huh? Yeah, we fight for the rights of SSes. But you gotta wait for the boss to hear all that. He'll be in later. He likes to give a speech sometimes."

  Tazrika nodded. The Scratch music filling the warehouse was energizing, chaotic, exciting. She closed her eyes and let the music fill her.

  "So what's your story, Tazrika? Tell us about your tangle with the Terrans."

  Tazrika's eyes opened.

  "What's to tell? I'm new to town. I was doing mechanical work as a contractor on a Navy troop transport. Some power cells went missing, and they assumed I stole 'em. They fired me on the spot." She stared at Krassik levelly. "I had stolen 'em, but it was rude of them to assume."

  Krassik sprayed laughter.

  "I hitched a shuttle to Ceon 12. Found my way to Techterra, looking for work." She shrugged. "I got a friend in the area, thought he could help me find something. I was hunting him up, and wandered into a Terran bar on accident. You know the type."

  "Yeah, I know the type," Krassik growled.

  "Well, one thing and another, they cornered me in an alley. They had big mouths." Tazrika examined her claws. "That was about all that was big on 'em."

  Krassik laughed again.

  "So tell us about the fight," he said, his eyes alight. "Tell us about how you tore 'em up."

  Tazrika grinned. She told a fairly faithful rendition of the fight, sprinkled with lurid descriptions of the wounds she'd dealt and baseless speculations about the Terran's ancestry. Krassik was roaring with laughter by the time she was done.

  "Man, I like you, little hatchling. Maybe you want to do a demonstration later? Do some chop-socky for the crowd?"

  Tazrika scoffed.

  "I didn't come here to fight SSes."

  "Fair enough," Krassik said, raising his hands. "Some of the Collective like to tie into it, keep the skills sharp, you know?" Krassik paused. "Anyway, if your friend can't find you good work, let me know. We have contacts, we can beat the bushes for you. SSes gotta stick together, right?"

  "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

  A ripple went through the crowd. A large shadow moved at the far end of the warehouse toward a crude platform. The music was turned down and a hush fell over the crowd.

  "Oh, hey, it's the boss!" Krassik cried. "We get to hear the boss tonight!"