Chapter 19

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Great shadows, how things have changed. Vimo Derbal wondered in his mind as he walked leisurely towards the sanctum sanctorum of the Imperial Intelligence Headquarters.

The long corridor was perfectly clean and perfectly empty. The sound of footsteps echoed off the marble slabs of the floor and bounced off the walls, echoing somewhere in the dark height of the ceiling. The walls of black stone with golden veins were slightly sloped inward, giving a kind of unerring monumentality to the situation. Every ten steps, the wall's mirrored surface interrupted to form wide darkened niches. Some of them had doors leading into offices, and some of them stood guard like statues. Six years ago, the last time Vimo had been in the office, the corridor was crowded with people, someone eating something, someone discussing something, and the atmosphere was much simpler.

You were also six years younger, the ladies of the capital were still crazy about officers, and the Old Man was in charge... he grinned absently, glancing absently at his reflection in the mirror-polished wall surface.

There, a tall, fair-haired man, in his "mature age", was walking with a confident gait. He wore the snow-white uniform of a senior naval officer, and on his sleeve glinted a metallic insignia: three stylized intersecting vectors connected by a circle, indicating his affiliation to the Imperial Intelligence Service. A gold epaulet on his right shoulder and an axel band with a sword suspended from it indicated that he was a full Sain Major in Imperial Intelligence.

"Do you have an appointment?" Cautiously asked a young blonde with the shoulder straps of a Stack Cadet as Vimo approached her desk at the end of the corridor.

"I think so." He smiled. "Sain Major Vimo Derbal."

"О! You are expected, Mr. Sain Major." The girl stepped out from behind the desk and opened the massive double doors with a touch of the test unit, making an inviting gesture. "Please follow me."

Artie's always been exceptionally good at arranging things, thought the sain major thoughtfully as he watched the blonde's "stern," who was strutting ahead, her pretty heeled feet in clear contradiction to the formal regulations.

The small corridor, designed in soft golden colors, ended with a single door with a golden sign: 'Head of the Fourth Department, Artul Traveri'. The girl knocked briefly and opened the door in front of him.

"Sain Major Vimo Derbal, Sir." The pretty guide announced him, stretching out at attention.

"Thank you, Stack Cadet, you are dismissed." said the Ergo Captain, seated at the massive, wide aryat table. He too was wearing a white ceremonial uniform. His narrow face, with its predatory eagle nose, was earnest, his dark hair slightly touched with a white dusting of gray, and his light brown eyes gazed fixedly at the entrant. But as soon as the door was closed behind her, all seriousness vanished from the master of the office:

"Vim, you scorched face," the Ergo Captain threw himself into a hug, "it's a long time since I've seen you, a demon..."

Vimo, ignoring his friend's rhetorical question, hugged him silently. If you've served two years on advanced reconnaissance ships without taking your spacesuit off for months at a time. Because on scouts, there is no bio-defense field. And your only entertainment is to communicate with your partner, who as well as you, is locked in a cramped dark chamber of the cabin for the next couple of months, then you either become best friends for life or will hate each other. The latter happened a lot more often than the former. But he and Artie became best friends, and when the "Old Man" set up a reconnaissance unit from scratch and invited Stack Captain Artul there, he "dragged" his friend Vimo Derbal after him.

"I see you've got yourself settled in." Vim grinned meaningfully, nodding towards the door behind which the pretty stack cadet had disappeared.

"Oh, don't remind me..." Artie sighed sadly and pointed to one of the chairs. Can I get you something to drink?

"Well, I'm sort of on holiday," he shrugged, "so I won't say no. Why are you sighing? Girl's a..."

"I'm scared of her at all." Artie declared, taking out glasses and a bottle of dark yellow glass from the mini-bar. He sat down in the opposite chair and poured the amber liquid over the glasses. "She's the boss's niece, so no affairs... And I'm not cut out for a serious relationship."

"What boss?" Vim wondered, taking a sip from his glass and feeling the thick, slightly tart liquid with a soft honey tone melt into his mouth:

"It's Bentar's Dew..." Vim exhaled in admiration and raised his glass to the light. "Your salary seems to be in line with rumors about it."

"It's from an untouchable and carefully saved for an occasion like this." Artie smiled slyly. "And which boss's niece... Admiral Durav, of course, the Old Man had no nieces."

Vim shrugged indifferently and took another sip. He frankly didn't like the new 'Chief' even though all their communication had been reduced to a dozen comm talks. Admiral Asunho Durav had succeeded "The Old Man" as head of Imperial Intelligence, who had retired four decades ago due to his advanced age. One hundred and eight years old was certainly not a small age from any angle, but the "Old Man" was as strong as the frontal armor of an attack cruiser and lived up to his job. In any case, Their Imperial Majesty knows best... And the "Old man", when Vim visited him, didn't seem particularly upset by his retirement. But the one who replaced him... Frankly speaking, everyone thought that the new chief would be Artie, who was the right hand of the "Old Man". But instead, the Emperor put Admiral Durav, from Vim's point of view a rather dumb soldier, in charge of Intelligence. Especially since he's from the fleet's line forces and has the faintest idea about intelligence. And if only the admiral had been quietly enjoying the privileges and "shining" in society, leaving all the real work to the deputies. But no, he wanted to command...

"And then count the Bentar Dew as an advance for your next assignment." Artie broke the silence.

"You must want me dead if you have to give me Bentar's dew before the mission."

"Have you heard about the Lord Director...?" Instead of answering the question, Artie asked.

Being in the capital and not hearing about the death of Lord Director of Imperial Security Renis Teito as a result of the shuttle disaster was almost impossible. Absolutely all the holo channels and all the news lines of the com networks were full of it. "Tragic accident that cut short the life of a great man". The shuttle exploded on an 'aggressive' landing, a power shield failure, and a minor disturbance in the outer shell on a normal glide path and speed would not have led to disaster. But Lord Teito didn't like to wait - that's what ruined him. Of course, there were theories of an anti-imperial alliance assassination. But Vim didn't believe that; he was familiar enough with the way the Lord Director was guarded. No, the rebels don't have the arms for that sort of thing...

"You want me to take over this investigation?" Vim almost choked on his wine. He didn't want to become "guilty beforehand" by taking on a clearly failed case. And the attention to the results would be the most intense.

"No, you didn't." Artie shook his head. "I was at the Chief's today. He's furious. You wouldn't believe it. He even yelled at me. Intelligence and Security are not going to look into this. The investigation has been entrusted to the Emperor's Shadows."

Wow. Vim was surprised in his mind. Either the Emperor decided to show the highest degree of displeasure with Intelligence and SS. Or he really believes that the death of the head of the Security Service is not accidental. He was about to open his mouth to share the thought with his friend when he noticed that here staring intently into his eyes, making a circular motion with his index finger. That was how they signified that they were being eavesdropped on.

"That's how..." he muttered aloud, looking questioningly at his friend. I wonder who has the nerve to eavesdrop on the Head of the Fourth Department in his own office? The new 'Chief' might well be looking out for an overly talented deputy... Or maybe we should look higher. The Emperor's doubts engendered by the death of the Lord Director may well have found material embodiment...

"That's the way it is..." Still nodded gravely Artie. "By the way are you aware of the Astrese rumors?"

"No. What about the rumors?" Asked Vim in a very calm voice, remembering that when he had visited the "Old Man", he had also remembered the court adept Astreus, who was still alive at the time. Suddenly he asked if he - Vimo - had ever thought of resigning because: "It's about time, son." He took it as a joke at the time.

"I don't know anything myself." Artie sighed, emphasizing the word "anything." "They say he made some kind of prediction before he died. But in my opinion, that's nothing more than idle gossip; the death of an adept is always a mystery in the eyes of the court drollers."

Vim shrugged, letting his friend decide what to say out loud and where to hint, and went for a cigarette - prayer always helped him to concentrate.

"So what's this appointment that's got me kicked out of my cozy military attaché's job at the Sociara Mission, and now they're giving me Bentar Dew?" he asked, holding out a second cigarette to Artie.

"Well, you know I'm not religious, unlike you." He started to object but still took a cigarette. It was their old ritual. He always refused first and then smoked one with him.

"The flames are ready to receive all." Vim grinned, giving his friend a light. "Yes, and the Lord Director, it is worth remembering, though he was a scum he knew his job well. May the Patroness watch over his soul."

"Let her keep it..." Artie agreed, inhaling. He let out a puff of smoke and suddenly coughed heavily:

"I think I've had enough of this stuff." He said in a slightly husky voice, handing the lighter back. "How do you keep it up... One word fanatics."

"It's all about constant training. So what about the appointment?"

Artie grimaced like a toothache and took another puff:

"Eight days ago, we had a group missing in the Tail Sector." He reported in an even huskier voice and took a big sip from his glass."And there's something murky going on. I don't know what."

"Sector Tail..." said Vim. "It's a delicate matter, and I don't know much about their cuisine. I'd get embarrassed. Or mix up the Lordship with the Grace, and there'd be a political scandal."

"Don't insult your superior." Artie sighed wearily. "I understand all that... And that it's impossible to work there. I know. I'd rather stick my dick in a beehive with a pearly wasp than work with the local aristocracy. But there's no one else. They're all dumb kids. They only know how to push straight ahead, waving their IDs like some SS."

"There seemed to be a confidante there specifically for this purpose."

"I'm afraid the confidant has a vested interest in the muddle that's gone up in Tail's Sector. That's why we need someone on the outside. Besides, you're a Fire Worshiper, so you can visit the shrines as well."

"Fire worshippers." Vim grimaced. "Don't say that in a public place, Mr. Ergo-Captain, or there might be a scandal. "Servants of Ryane," or "Secondarist" at the very least. And from the Fire Throne's point of view, I'm a heretic, so I can't go there."

"The main thing is not to tell His Purity "Guardian of the Fire" your original theory, and you can visit the shrines all right. And as for the name, the shadows will sort you out. I was recently persuaded by the protocol department that the correct name to call them is "Ir'Ryanists".

"Look, Artie, let's be serious. What kind of field agent am I? I'm not so young anymore. I can't remember the last time I was in the field. For the last six years, I've been working with Sociara's top brass."

"Let's be serious." He nodded. "Did I say anything about a field agent? No. You're going there officially. And age... ...forty-four is the prime of your life, don't be so humble."

"Officially?" raised an eyebrow at Vim. "In what capacity?"

"As an Imperial Investigator. There was a very successful attempt to poison a lord of the empire. The High Tribunal has already sent a request for an investigation."

"I thought the Emperor preferred not to get involved in the family conflicts of the Great Houses."

"And now he decided to intervene." Artie put his hands together with a sarcastic grin. "And then I wouldn't be surprised if this assassination attempt is connected to that mudslinging going on in the Sector. There's something going on out there. I need someone to listen to what the stars are whispering about. Do you understand me? Someone reliable and experienced. It has to be you." He said, underlining "you" in his voice.

Vim silently folded his arms and thought about what Artie wanted to tell him:

Me, exactly? And what's the significance of an old friend, Sain Major Vimo Derbal? Because he's a friend. Vim answered himself but immediately dismissed the option. The head of the Fourth Department must have an ass instead of a head if he has no other confidants. Friendly connections were out of the question. He had spent the last six years outside the Empire in the capital of the Sociara Union, playing the game of 'I know you know I know...'. It certainly gave him a certain amount of experience. And that experience told him that in aristocratic society almost everything was defined by title and connections. And he had neither. Titles went mostly to brave naval captains and pilots, with a little extra for the army. And almost never for Intelligence or SS, that was the unspoken order. And connections... He had no connections, even though the Court was teeming with aristocrats from Tail's Sector.

It's hard to make connections when you're nearly two decades from the capital... Vim thought jovially and froze. That's it! I have no connections there, but no one in Tail's Sector has any connections with me either, and he can be sure of that. He doesn't know that about anyone else.

"All right," he said aloud, "but what am I going to do there, without people, without resources..."

"You will have the widest possible powers. All local groups will be temporarily subordinated to you." With a broad smile, Artie assured him, "If anything, involve the confidant's men, but with some caution."

"What's the deal with this lord anyway..." Vim began but was interrupted by Artie:

"Here is all the information you need," he declared, holding out the two info sticks. "And as for the lord, of course, the criminals who have plotted against the illustrious prince and lord of the empire are highly desirable to be found. If you do, it won't stick with me - you know me. And if not, then no..."

"When do I leave?" queried Vim unhappily.

"The sooner - the better." Artie shook his hands regretfully, "A courier is waiting for you in orbit. So as soon as you get the investigator's paperwork and all that bureaucracy, you'll be on your way. The deadline is tomorrow."

"Oh, damn. And I thought I'd have time to get out with you on the hunt..."

"You know," Artie sighed, a pained look in his eyes. "I think it's for the best that you're leaving now. When you get back, you and I are going to have a blast..."

They chatted about the past for about an hour, and then Vimo started to leave. He decided to leave today. He had nothing special to do in the capital, only minor bureaucratic matters, and to pick up the still unpacked suitcases from the service flat. So six hours later, he was aboard an imperial intelligence courier ship. Putting his Infoblock on the narrow table in the corner of his quarters, Vim began to change his clothes. He replaced the ceremonial uniform with a large slanted sociarian dressing gown, sat down at the table, and inserted the first rod. The infobox beeped grudgingly and asked for a personal code and confirmation of identity. Five minutes later, when the security measures had finally been overcome, it became clear that the information on both rods was the same. This was obvious stupidity:

Artie couldn't have slipped me two identical sticks, thought Vim, frustrated, checking the data once more they were exactly the same. He pulled out both rods - they looked identical. Acting on a hunch, he tried to unscrew one first and then the other. The second stick gave way - the head clicked, opening the hiding place - three white pills and a note rolled up into a tube fell out on the table.

Hope this helps you mate.

Vim picked up one of the tablets and held it up to the lamp - the white surface under the light was clearly pearlescent - "Rainbow".

I wonder how many regulations, acts, and laws Artie has broken, he thought unhappily as he looked at the iridescent iridescence on the surface of the pill. The Rainbow allowed the most ordinary person to become almost an adept for a while - he developed the strongest empathy, intuition increased manifold, a "sense of danger" appeared, and what happened to the full-fledged adepts who took the Rainbow... That's why the usage of the Rainbow was strictly regulated - it was nothing to say. Each usage required permission from the First Inquisitor or an edict from the Emperor. Vim took Rainbow just once, during a training course on the use of "medications of the third class and above". The dose was about a quarter of a tablet, but he had had enough of it...

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Why did he give them to me? And in violation of official procedure. Artie must have known how I felt about that stuff. I wouldn't eat rainbow voluntarily unless I was desperate. Vim's first impulse was to throw the pills in the incinerator. In front of him on the table was not only the sure end of his career but three higher sentences all at once. But thinking about it, with a heavy sigh, he shoved the pills back into the stash. And for what shadows I have been ripped from Sociara? Mentally he groaned, opening his record collection folder and hiding the stick, among hundreds of others. I liked it so much there, snooping quietly. The Sociars pretended they didn't know what the First Attache was up to, I pretended I didn't know what they knew. I went to my appointments and in my spare time, I collected materials on the Church of the Flame... Easy.

He looked regretfully at the bundle of sticks with unstructured information on the ancient period of the "Ryan Service " and sighed heavily, tossing them back into the folder. He had a mountain of analyses and reports from groups in the Tail Sector to read.

After four days of sitting in his quarters and vigil in front of the terminal, the courier ship arrived at Tallana, home to the main base of the army, the navy, and, in addition, the sector office of imperial intelligence. They were already waiting for him, a stack captain in a white senior naval officer's uniform, and two attendants in navy blue, stretched at attention across the gangway. Judging by the somewhat nervous faces of those greeting him, there was a wave of "pep" coming from the head of the Fourth Department, or maybe someone higher.

"Welcome to Fortress Forizet, Mr. Plenipotentiary Investigator." The stack captain began as Vim stepped off the ramp onto the springy, mirror-finished silkscreened flooring of the station's enormous ramp field. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Stack Captain Greg Tundali, head of local Imperial Intelligence," he said, holding out his hand. He was in his early thirties and already head of a sector office - a fine career for such an age. His dark hair and brown eyes gave off an aristocratic breed, and his skin was as pale as anyone who lived on the stations. The stout and trim stack captain didn't look like a "staff bug". He must have transferred from the navy.

After exchanging greetings with Captain Tundali, Vim politely declined the offer to go to his assigned rest quarters:

"Actually, I would prefer to get straight to the point."

"Oh, well, I guess we'd better head for the office." Proposed Tundali, pointing towards the exit of the access field.

The station area allocated for Intelligence purposes was not too far from the outer perimeter, so ten minutes later, Vim was sitting in the stack captain's office, tastefully furnished by the way, and sipping the taymar brought by a rarely pretty assistant. Looks like in the six years I've been on Sociara, there's a fashion in intelligence for pretty female stack cadets. Unfortunately, minus the setting and the assistant, there was nothing else Captain Tundali could please him with:

"Is it really that bad?" With a slight skepticism in his voice, Sain Major Vimo asked his interlocutor. When it turned out that the whole "unofficial" part of the management, i.e. field groups, agents, and informants, was run by a Confidante:

"Admittedly, I thought the Tallana department had its own, independent of the confidant, agents among the Great Houses. The lack of direct channels could adversely affect the quality of information." He added.

"Here on Tallana, and on the Free Worlds, we have our own informants." Dullly sighed the stack captain. In the realms of the Great Houses, we have men where it is critical, in the Shipyards and in the Fleet. For the rest, we have to rely on the Confidante.

"Is someone in the leadership of the Guard cooperating with us?" Vim raised an eyebrow. As far as he knew, the higher ranks were from the aristocracy, and they were all connected in one way or another and might know something.

"Oh, no, sadly not." sighed Tundali. "It's mostly junior technicians and dock workers. The guardsmen are hard to work with, House pays them an awful lot, and our funds are very limited. No way to pressure them either. They hide behind immunity. With aristocrats, it is even more difficult. They are quite a closed society - just establishing acquaintance is already a big problem." He shook his hands. "That is why we have to rely on the help of a confidant in many things that concern the higher circles."

"So you have nothing to add to what I've already read in the reports?"

"Quite the contrary." protested the Stack Captain. "There was a second attempt on Lord Cassard's life eight hours ago." He pulled two info sticks out of his desk drawer and handed them to Vim. "Here is the report of the initial investigation and a note from our analysts on the current situation."

"Well, thank you. Were your people in charge of the investigation?"

"No, sir. This is a copy of what the SS sent us. Also, the House people are investigating, we have certain arrangements with them, and they keep us informed."

Vim's eyebrows crept up: "So no one from intelligence is doing it?"

"Confidant is keeping a close eye on the case." Seeing the disgruntled grimace on the face of the `authorized investigator', Captain Tundali hastily added:

"I only have a hundred and forty people, sir." He again sadly shook his hands, "Thirty of them are analysts, and another twenty are technicians. And there are eight Great Houses in the Sector, not to mention the Free Worlds. We just can't keep up everywhere."

Vim frowned thoughtfully and twirled the sticks in his hands; he didn't like the situation at all:

"OK, can you outline the situation in your own words? Briefly."

"In a nutshell. It's a shit situation." Tundali admitted. "The latest attempt on Lord Cassard's life, not at all like a family squabble within the House, he was fired upon by an HGM. This kind of cavalierness is possible when no one thinks of the consequences. Our informants and hyperspace intelligence ships report active movement by Great Houses Fyron and Kilret fleets, and ships are moving into the border zone near Istar. Analysts believe there may be an armed conflict, and the killing of Lord Cassard is a distraction."

"And what does the Confidant think about this?"

Confidant agrees with the analysts in the sense that we are dealing with a conflict between Houses. But he believes the conflict will not be military but more political between Melato and Bentar, and Lord Cassard's murder is a means of keeping House Fyron busy with an internal squabble and knocking the ground out from under the feet of the pro-Fyron party in Bentar's Privy Council.

"Well, at least it makes more sense than House Kilert attacking Fyron," chuckled Vim, "as I recall the Fyron fleet being twice as large."

"The Analytical Department believes that Fyron, not Kilret, is the firestarter of the aggression."

"What's the point for them?"

Tundali shrugged slightly absent-mindedly: "A preemptive strike. There's too much friction between them. Kilreatz is sitting on the only access to Tallana and is strangling the Fyron trade with duties. Right now, the Kilreatz fleet consists of eight battlecruisers though, they call them 'antipiracy frigates,'" Tundali added with a grin, "and is supported by a hundred fighters and two light aircraft carriers that aren't exactly LPCs. Lady Baala is well aware that Fyron's fleet is much stronger, so they're building ten more strike cruisers and two more light aircraft carriers at the Tallana shipyard on behalf of Kilreatz. They will be ready in a year. Eighteen strike cruisers and four aircraft carriers are a serious force, plus four strike cruisers from their ally House Peltar. In addition, the Peltars are actively trying to repair their flagship, and if they succeed, they will also have a Heavy Cruiser. In principle, this will be enough power for Fyron to give up the idea of going directly to 'deep space'. Given the rumors of negotiations between House Kilretz and the Melatians, the balance of power may be tangibly shifting and not in Fyron's favor."

"That's why they decide to attack now." There was a distinct hesitation in Vim's voice. "Despite the fact that an attack would incur the Emperor's wrath. And at the same time, trying to kill one of their lords, knowing that this could cause incredible internal feuding, perhaps even a war between the clans."

"Well, they may not act so overtly. Analysts think they will provoke the Kilretz in some way. Perhaps, the attacks on Lord Cassard have something to do with it. Also, they don't have to invade and start a full-scale war. Perhaps, it will come down to a quick border conflict in which most of House Kilretz's fleet will be destroyed. As for Lord Cassard - he's not dead after all, so maybe they didn't want to kill him.

"So he didn't die?" Vim wondered. "After being hit by an HGM?"

"He's as lucky as an ascended." smiled the stack captain. "He doesn't have a scratch on him. Perhaps the assassination attempt was nothing more than an act. At least that's what our analysis department thinks, and that's what the report says."

"I'll be sure to familiarize myself with it." Nodded Vim, sinking into unhappy thoughts. This assignment had smelled bad from the start, but now it was beginning to stink. Luckily, he was formally sent here to investigate an assassination attempt, and the potential war was not on his conscience.

"Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. Sain Major?" Tundali asked cautiously

Yes. Do you know if the Navy has any plans for what's going on? If I were the Navy, I'd be unobtrusively conducting exercises as close to Istar as possible by now.

"As far as I know, none. Almost the entire Sector fleet, at the request of the Senate, has now gone to Alira to fight the pirates. And even if Admiral Felcherev is ordered to return right now, his ships won't be at Istar for another ten days. Tallana has five KSCs left, but three of them are undergoing maintenance, and the ships are not fully operational."

"What a lucky coincidence." smiled sarcastically Vim, who had long been able to see that most lucky coincidences are carefully orchestrated.

"It's too lucky." Tundali agreed.

"Well, we'll work with what we've got." Vim slapped his knee and stood up. "I'd like to see a list of your most intelligent operatives and arrange for me to meet with a confidant."

"All right, Mr. Sain Major, the list will be ready in about ten minutes. But arranging a meeting with the confidant is somewhat difficult given the signal delay, we won't be able to contact him for at least three hours."

"Well," sighed Vim, "then I'll go back to my room and read the data you gave me," he waved the info sticks he had received, shoved them into the folder, and headed for the exit. Captain Tundali hurried after him:

"Not to be indelicate, Mr. Sain Major, but how long do you plan to stay on Tallana?"

"That depends on how quickly you can get me a meeting with an intruder." Vim shrugged. "After what I've learned, I don't see much point in sticking around."

A shadow of relief slid across the Stack Captain's face.

"We will make every effort to ensure this meeting can take place as early as possible. And I would be very grateful if you would agree to our guards if you decide to visit the planet or the commercial stations."

Vim raised his eyebrows in surprise, not that he planned to visit the planet, but..:

"I thought Tallana was quite loyal."

"As a matter of fact, it is, sir. But there's a thing..." Tundali wrinkled his nose as if he'd eaten something sour. "There's been a recording of a group of men dressed in imperial uniforms raping three female students at the University of Tallana. Experts believe the footage is most likely authentic. Testimony from the students also confirms it."

"Rape?" He did not hide his astonishment and asked Vim. He had served in the navy for six years but had never heard of rape. Theft, drunken brawls and assaults, and drugs were common offenses among the crews, but not rape. The majority preferred to 'grind iron' by using droids, and although ship psychologists saw this as a potential problem, most sane captains did not discourage the practice.

"In addition to the Sector's main naval base, we also have the army's main base here. More than a million young men - such excesses are inevitable even from a statistical point of view."

"What's the army's shortage of appropriate droids? Also, as I recall, there are usually certain kinds of establishments associated with the bases, with which the command usually establishes certain arrangements."

"Such activities are forbidden on Tallana. And 'appropriate' droids have been banned under the new army regulations."

"Why?" Have they all gone insane over there?

"Ergo Captain Astalia Thalerd thinks they have a corrosive effect on discipline."

Vim shook his head sympathetically; he was suspicious of the abundance of women in the army leadership, and such idiocy in the regulations, he thought, only confirmed his doubts:

"Then one is surprised that only three people were raped."

"Actually, it's happened before," Tundali confessed. "It's just that we usually manage to find the culprits quickly, and keep the story from escalating."

"What about now? Have the culprits been found?"

"Unfortunately, no sir," Tundali sighed. "The bastards were smart enough to use condoms, and the footage doesn't show faces. That's why we couldn't find them quickly, and that's why rumors started flying that we were harboring criminals."

"Yeah, it's a nasty story," agreed Vim.

"Even nastier, sir. After the footage went viral, a large group of drunken students attacked four paratroopers on leave, probably for revenge. One of the soldiers had a gun on him. He shot four of them and wounded three others."

"Since when is it allowed to go on leave with a gun?"

"It wasn't a regular weapon." The stack captain shook his head negatively. "He owned the blaster on general civil rights and took it with him on leave."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that possibility. Has he been punished yet?"

"No sir, the tribunal found no crime. The students attacked first. He acted in self-defense. The local Holo-V people made a big story out of it. We tried to intervene, but you know this damn Sector has such privileges..."

Yes, privileges Vim agreed mentally - including the absence of an imperial censor board on the holo. And financial tools didn't work on a journalist drunk on potential fame.

"We failed to impose a censor's ban. .." The stack captain went on with the frankness of a man who has finally found someone ready to listen to his sorrows. "We tried to negotiate differently, using other means. You see..." He looked at Vim to make sure he understood what he meant and continue after the nod. "Well, students have always been the most unreliable public, and after the report of the results of the trial, they just exploded. A crowd of about a hundred thousand marched to the imperial office, demanding that the criminals are handed over and the garrisons and bases are removed from Tallana. For a while, they were just making noise, but then they began shouting political demands and insulting the Emperor. Someone in the crowd fired a blaster at the guard of honor at the imperial standard, and the crowd tried to tear it down."

And the guards, according to the imperial order 'On defending the honor of the flag', opened fire with live fire on the crowd. Vim added mentally, mechanically taking a cigarette out of his pocket. What was happening was a carefully orchestrated provocation, where a mob of teenagers had done exactly what they were supposed to do. Guards had no choice, caught between the rampaging and armed student soldiers and the direct command of the Imperial order to use their weapons if the flag was endangered. The fact that the guards were not accused of anything only served to inflame resentment even more

He took out his lighter and lit it thoughtfully. The stream of thought instantly curled into a thin grey bundle and disappeared into the hood: Oh, I guess someone decided to please Ryan with a decent shot, damn.

"By the time the police bots arrived with their heavy stun guns, there had been sixty-five casualties among the guards and about a thousand casualties among the demonstrators. So it's not safe to be alone on the planet or the commercial stations," Tundali finished his story with an odd squint at his cigarette.

For some time now, the SS has deemed "servants of Ryan to be politically unreliable".

Vim grinned and somewhat defiantly took another puff. Looks like the new generation of intelligence officers have the same shit in their heads as the SS.

"Well, thanks for the warning, Captain." He said aloud. "Anyway, I still need at least four operatives, so find someone who's a little more subtle but in a way that won't cause too much damage to your investigation. And get me someone who can get me into the local communications center" I need to speak to Artie right away.

The pretty assistant of the stack captain escorted him to the communicators' fiefdom, where the glint of the Sain Major's epaulets and the phrase 'plenipotentiary investigator' quickly made his way to the instant communication units. But it was unfortunately not possible to speak to Artie, his secretary, flapping her long eyelashes, reported that: "Mr. Ergo-Captain has been summoned to the palace, and it is not known when he will return." So Vim confined himself to a quick report to the head of the Fourth Department, expecting Artie to contact him after watching the video.

He spent the next two hours studying the material given to him by Stack Captain Tundali until he was interrupted by the appearance of the captain in the flesh. It turned out that a meeting with the confidant could be arranged in as little as eight hours, but he needed to leave right away for that. So after an hour, Vim showed the droid where to put his suitcases, in the cabin of a small transport, with the emblem of some holo channel on board. A more conspicuous and therefore less suitable courier had to leave later, together with Vim's selected operatives.

Confident met him aboard a luxury yacht that was waiting for them near the Copeira jumping area.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sain Major." She held out her hand to him, temporarily throwing Vim into a stupor as he frantically remembered whether it was customary to kiss or shake in the Tail Sector. "I am Lady Lakita Asta, a Confidante of Imperial Intelligence in Sector Tail." The confidante had a velvety enveloping voice, huge blue eyes, a wide smile with charming dimples, and the appearance of a girl of about twenty-five. A long snow-white dress and an equally snow-white mantle of long furs accentuated the jet-black color of her hair, which fell in a brilliant waterfall over her shoulders.

"Likewise, lady," replied Vim, kissing her hand. Judging by the smile, it was the right thing to do.

"I take it you are here to investigate the attempted assassination of Lord Cassard?" She asked, gesturing for him to sit in one of the chairs and calling for a servant with refreshments.

"That's right." He replied as he waited for the servant to leave them alone. "And I'm counting on your help."

"All my powers are at your service." She smiled brightly. "What kind of help do you need?"

"For starters, information - what exactly do you know?"

"I have set out almost everything I know in my note on the subject. I think you've already read it. There's not much to add." She raised her eyes thoughtfully to the ceiling and leaned back in her chair, the slit in her dress sliding to the side, revealing a view of her mind-boggling legs.

Vim, who always had a weakness for blue-eyed brunettes, averted his eyes from her legs, constantly reminding himself that he was here to do business and Lady Lakita was not only five years older than him but married to the Deputy Chief of Naval Staff, Admiral Kerith Dunnir-Asta.

"Perhaps the fact that he's been spending more time with his third cousin Baroness Kayrin Rionale lately, though they didn't get along before." Lady Asta continued, breaking her thoughtful silence. "There are rumors that they are having an affair, but I know for a fact that Lord Cassard continues to maintain a relationship with his old mistress and is not hiding that relationship from Kayrin. I think this is no more than a visible part of the alliance with the Rionale Family - but that is only a guess. It is also said that Lord Cassard is becoming increasingly reliant, and one might even say dependent, on his security specialist Taer Diltar. In my opinion, it is true and even natural." She smiled brightly again. "After all, he has lost his memory and is completely helpless."

"Who do you think is behind the assassination attempts?"

"I wrote about it in a note." Lakita sighed, taking a sip from her soap-bubble-thin glass. "I believe House Melato is behind this; they have much to lose by the alliance between Fyron and Bentar. They have the support of pro-Melato circles within House Bentar, as well as those who want to be able to elect the next ruling lord, hence the Bentar trail in the second assassination attempt. These forces have clearly found common ground. I think it will end with the physical removal of the current ruling lady and the election of a new pro-Melat ruling lord. Fyron can stop that from happening. So by killing Lord Cassard, they will have shot two finches at once - Fyron will be busy with internal wrangling, and the pro-Fyron party will lose their main trump card - the alliance through marriage to Cassard."

"Do you know the specific people behind it, too?" Vim asked cautiously.

Lady Lakita made a disgruntled grimace: "Unfortunately, only on the Bentar side, and they are clearly the doers, not the authors of the idea."

"Is there nothing else you can do for me? I was sure that such a trusted confidant, who is also an intelligent and perceptive but no less beautiful woman, clearly knew something that the Imperial Intelligence Service did not know."

Lakita met his awkward attempt with a cold look in her piercing blue eyes. She stared at him for a while, probably trying to understand how serious he was, and then laughed out loud:

"Major, you're an obnoxious flatterer. You can't do that. I can help you with something, though." She reached out a hand toward the small transparent table between the chairs, and under her palm flashed icons of the hidden info-block or cluster, and a huge screen wove itself into the center of the room. "Well, I thought of saving it for myself. But since I'm such a trusted confidant." She laughed again. "I'll give it to you."

On the screen, a pretty but tall and broad-shouldered girl dressed in a white uniform similar to his own but with scarlet stitching on the right sleeve was taking a briefcase of money. Judging by the hands of the man, his face was not visible because the camera was somewhere on his chest, probably in a button. The briefcase contained bundles of money but not in creds but in denarii. Vim was ready to swear there were at least a couple of million danarii in there. The girl's face was vaguely familiar:

"Is this by any chance Lord Cassard's security specialist?"

"Exactly." Nodded Lakita. "In fact, she's being bribed here, to the tune of five million danarii for the purchase of a planetary-class shield generator."

"Five million," Vim said involuntarily - the sum was fantastic.

"Yes." Lady Lakita nodded with a smile of understanding, "It seems Lord Cassard's well-known breadth of the heart extends to his Arm as well."

"And where did you get this record from?"

"One manager was caught cheating on military orders for the Empire. And I managed to convince him that cooperation was better than penal servitude."

"Perhaps that's exactly what I needed for a productive visit to Lord Cassard." Vim stretched thoughtfully without taking his eyes off the screen.

* * *