To his surprise, he shrank from it. But why? He'd learned to accept his persona as Dahak's captain and even as Governor of Earth, so why did this bother him?
Because, he thought, this brightly lit mausoleum whispered too eloquently of power and crushing responsibility, and it frightened him. Which was foolish in someone who'd already been made to accept responsibility for the very survival of his race, but nonetheless real.
He shook himself. The Empire was dead. All that could remain were other artifacts like Mother, and he needed any of those he could lay hands on. Even if that meant assuming command of a long-abandoned headquarters crewed only by ghosts and computers.
He only wished it didn't feel so... impious.
"Mother," he said finally.
"Yes, Senior Fleet Captain?" the computer replied, and he spoke very slowly and carefully.
"On this day, I, Senior Fleet Captain Colin MacIntyre, commanding officer-" he remembered the designation Fleet Central had tacked onto Dahak "-HIMP Dahak, do, as senior Battle Fleet officer present, pursuant to Fleet Regulation Five-Three-Three, Section Niner-One, Article Ten, assume command of Fl-"
"Invalid authorization," Mother interrupted.
"What?" Colin blinked in surprise.
"Invalid authorization," Mother repeated unhelpfully.
"What's invalid about it?" he demanded, unreasonably irritated at the delay now that he had steeled himself to it.
"Fleet Regulation Five-Three-Three does not pertain to transfer of command authority."
"It does so!" he shot back, but it was neither a question nor a command, and Mother remained silent. He gritted his teeth in frustration. "All right, if it doesn't pertain to transfer of command, what does it pertain to?"
"Regulation Five-Three-Three and subsections," Mother said precisely, "pertains to refuse disposal aboard Battle Fleet orbital bases."
"What?!"
Colin glared at the console. Of course Reg Five-Three-Three referred to transfer of command! It was how Dahak had mousetrapped him into this entire absurdity! He'd read it for himself when he-
Understanding struck. Yes, he'd read it-in a collection of regulations written fifty-one millennia ago.
Damn.
"Please download current Fleet Regulations and all relevant data to my command."
"Acknowledged. Download beginning. Download completed," Mother said almost without pause, and Colin reactivated his com.
"Dahak?"
"Yes, Captain?"
"I need some help here. What regulation replaced Five-Three-Three?"
"Fleet Regulation Five-Three-Three has been superseded by Fleet Regulation One-Niner-One-Five-Seven-Three-Niner, sir."
Colin winced. For seven thousand years, the Imperium had managed to hold Fleet regulations to under three thousand main entries; apparently the Empire had discovered the joys of bureaucracy.
No wonder Mother had so much memory.
"Thank you," he said, preparing to turn his attention back to Mother, but Dahak stopped him.
"A moment, Captain. Is it your intent to use this regulation to assume command of Fleet Central?"
"Of course it is," Colin said testily.
"I would advise against it."
"Why?"
"Because it will result in your immediate execution."
"What?" Colin asked faintly, certain he hadn't heard correctly.
"The attempt will result in your execution, sir. Regulation One-Niner-One-Five-Seven-Three-Niner does not apply to Fleet Central."
"Why not? It's a unit of Battle Fleet."
"That," Dahak said surprisingly, "is no longer true. Fleet Central is Battle Fleet; all units of Battle Fleet are subordinate to it. Battle Fleet command officers are not promoted to Fleet Central command duties."
"Then where the hell does its command staff come from?"
"They are drawn from Battle Fleet; they are not promoted from it. Fleet Central command officers are selected by the Emperor from all Battle Fleet flag officers and serve solely at his pleasure. Any attempt to assume command other than by direction of the Emperor is high treason and punishable by death."
Colin went white as he realized only Mother's interruption to correct an incorrect regulation number had saved his life.
He shuddered. What other tripwires were buried inside Fleet Central? Damn it, why couldn't Mother be smart enough to tell him things like this?!
Because, a small, calm voice told him, she hadn't been designed to be.
Which was all very well, but if he couldn't assume command, Mother wouldn't tell him the things he had to know, and if he tried to assume command, she'd kill him on the spot!
"Dahak," he said finally, "find me an answer. I've got to be able to exercise command authority here, or we might as well not have come."
"Fleet Central command authority lies in the exclusive grant of the Emperor, Captain. There is no other way to obtain it."
"Goddamn it, there isn't any emperor!" Colin half-shouted, battling incipient hysteria as he felt the situation crumbling in his hands. All he needed was for Dahak to catch Mother's lunatic literal-mindedness! "Look, can you invade the core programming? Redirect it?"
"The attempt would result in Dahak's destruction," the computer told him. "In addition, it would fail. Fleet Central's core programming contains certain imperatives, of which this is one, which may not be reprogrammed even on the Emperor's authority."
"That's insane," Colin said flatly. "My God, a computer you can't reprogram running your entire military establishment?!"
"I did not say all reprogramming was impossible, nor do I understand why these particular portions cannot be altered. I am not privy to the content of the imperatives or the reasons for them. I base my statement on technical data included in the material downloaded to me."
"But how the hell can anything be unalterable? Couldn't you simply shut the thing down, dump its entire memory, and reprogram from scratch?"
"Negative, sir. The imperatives are not embodied in software. In Terran parlance, they are 'hard-wired' into the system. Removal would require actual destruction of a sizable portion of the central computer core."
"Crap." Colin pondered a moment longer, then widened the focus of his com link. "Vlad? 'Tanni? Have you been listening in on this?"
"Aye, Colin," Jiltanith replied.
"Any ideas?"
"I'faith, none do spring to mind," his wife said. "Vlad? Hast some insight which might aid our need?"
"I fear not," Chernikov said. "I am currently viewing the technical data Dahak refers to, Captain. So far as I can tell, his analysis is correct. To alter this would require a complete shutdown of Fleet Central. Even assuming 'Mother' would permit it, the required physical destruction would cripple Comp Cent and destroy the data we require. In my opinion, the system was designed precisely to preclude the very possibility you have suggested."
"Goddamn better mousetrap-builders!" Colin muttered, and Chernikov stifled a laugh. It made Colin feel obscurely better... but only a little.
"Dahak," he said finally, "can you access the data we need?"
"Negative."
"And you can't think of any way to sneak around these damned imperatives?"
"Negative."
"Then we're SOL, people," Colin sighed, slumping back in his couch, his sense of defeat even more bitter after the glow of victory he'd felt such a short time before. "Damn it. Damn it! We need an emperor to get into the goddamned system, and the last emperor died forty-five thousand years ago!"
"Captain," Dahak said after a moment, "I believe there might be a way."
"What?" Colin jerked back upright. "You just said there wasn't one!"
"Inaccurate. I said there was no way to 'sneak around these damned imperatives,' " the computer replied precisely. "There may, however, be a way in which you can use them, instead. I point out, however, that-"
"A way to use them? How?!"
"Under Case Omega, sir, you can-"
"I can take control of
Fleet Central?" Colin broke in on him.
"Affirmative. Under the circumstances, you may be considered the highest ranking officer of Battle Fleet, and, in your capacity as Governor of Earth, the senior civil official, as well. As such, you may instruct Fleet Central to implement Case Omega, so assuming-"
"Great, Dahak!" Colin said. "I'll get back to you in a minute." Hot damn! He found himself actually rubbing his hands in glee.
"But, Captain-" Dahak said.
"In a minute, Dahak. In a minute." Elation boiled deep within him, a terrible, wonderful elation, compounded by the emotional whipsaw which had just ravaged him. "Mother," he said.
"Yes, Senior Fleet Captain Colinmacintyre?"
"Colin," Dahak said again, "there are-"
"Mother," Colin said firmly, rushing himself before whatever Dahak was trying to tell him could undercut his determination, "implement Case Omega."
There was a moment of profound silence, and then Hell itself erupted. Colin cringed back into his couch, hands rising to cover his eyes as Command Alpha exploded with light. A bolt of pain shot through his left arm as a bio-probe of pure force snipped away a scrap of tissue, but it was tiny compared to the fury boiling into his brain through his neural feed. A clumsy hand thrust deep inside him, flooding through his implants to wrench a gestalt of his very being from him. For one terrible moment he was Fleet Central, writhing in torment as his merely mortal brain and the ancient, bottomless computers of Battle Fleet merged, impressing their identities imperishably upon one another.
Colin screamed in the grip of an agony too vast to endure, and yet it was over before he could truly experience it. Its echoes shuddered away down his synapses, stuttering in the racing pound of his heart, and then they were gone.
"Case Omega executed," Mother said emotionlessly. "The Emperor is dead; long live the Emperor!"
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, 'Tanni?" he managed in a strangled croak.
"How dost thou, my love? We did hear thee scream. Art thou-?"
"I-I'm fine, 'Tanni," he said, and, physically, it was true. He cleared his throat. "There were a few rough moments, but I'm okay now. Honest."
"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."
"'Tanni?" he returned his attention to his com. "Come ahead."
"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 innermost hatch by the time it opened. Jiltanith gasped as his embrace threatened to pop her bioenhanced ribs, and her cheek was wet where it pressed against his.
"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.