The Admiral and the Assistant

Dass hitched himself up in the chair. He looked at the Emperor seated across from him.

"If I'd known your 'treatment' was going to require so much talking, I think I'd have just stayed in Techterra."

"We're nearly done. With the explanation, at least."

"Small miracles raining down. So. The Cryptographers found out that these 'Feeders' were circling the galaxy every thousand years and eating all the sentients. Almost all the sentients. Then they decided to do something about it, in the most roundabout, nonsensical way possible. They showed a bunch of barely-spaceworthy vertebrates a jumphole."

The Emperor smiled.

"That's a very terse way of putting it. You should write the textbooks for Imperial history."

"I'm good, I've already got a job." Dass thought for a moment. "Now I'm curious: did the Cryptographers create the Imperium, or did the Terrans?"

"It's a little more complicated than that."

"I'm shocked."

"After the Feeders had been through our galaxy, the Cryptographers discovered Old Terra. At that point the Terrans had been reduced to a pre-industrial state. They were very few by that point, but enough to rebuild the species. The Cryptographers scoured Old Terra, sifting through the wreckage and ruins, researching our history, our drives, our fears, our might and our weaknesses."

"Weird hobby, but okay."

"They were trying to understand how our empires were built, how they operated, what made them work," the Emperor said. "They were designing the blueprint for the Imperium."

"So they did make the Imperium."

"It's more correct to say that the Terrans inspired it, the Cryptographers designed it, then all the species of the galaxy built it. They needed the Imperium to unify the galaxy. To stand against the Feeders when they return. That, ultimately, is the purpose of the Imperium."

"The Feeders can be stopped, then?"

"The Cryptographers believe so. That's the Solution they seek."

"I don't suppose they left us the plans for a galactic blaster mega-cannon to fight the Feeders with?"

"That is not the Cryptographer way."

"Ah, yes. That's far too straightforward. 'Here's this guy trying to eat me, I'll just shoot him.' I can see why the Cryptographers would hate it."

"Let's focus. Back to the founding of the Imperium. Now what does every empire need?"

"Um. A big army?"

"Before that."

"People."

"Before that."

Dass looked a little lost.

"Articles of incorporation? I don't know."

"An empire needs an emperor."

"Oh, yeah," Dass said.

"There, the Cryptographers had some difficulty. The monarchical societies of Old Terra had many difficulties, but they all had one common failing. Succession. Corrupt men seek power, and when a king or emperor dies-- or when they can be killed-- the power-hungry rush in to take his place. Even when clear rules of succession had been established, such as primogeniture, assassination, war and usurpation were rampant."

Dass nodded.

"That makes sense. If you have an emperor that doesn't die, you don't ever have to deal with succession." He gestured to the Emperor. "Is that what they did? Treated you with some kind of... Cryptographer juice to make you immortal? Or are there really a bunch of Emperor clones?"

"Neither. Whether with medical treatment or cloning, an immortal emperor presents a new kind of problem, another one common on Old Terra. Stagnation. When a government does not change from time to time, society and progress grind to a halt. Succession causes too much change, immortality does not allow any change at all."

"So how do you get past all that?"

"The Cryptographers discovered their answer when they found the Mucilageans."

"Aha. They swap you guys out every forty or eighty years. There's a new Emperor from time to time? And they treat the new Emperor by having him spend time in contact with the Mucilagean, so he can learn to make himself look like the old Emperor."

"The Emperor has to change, but he also has to remember." The Emperor sat back and closed his eyes. "I remember the breezes of Old Terra, the open sky. I remember the first space station, the wars, the treachery and the victories."

Dass frowned.

"Okay, then, I don't get it. What are you?"

"I am Terran. I am Mucilagean. I am also Cryptographer. I am a body, and a mind, and a soul." The Emperor sighed heavily and drew a hand across his eyes. "The Emperor-- myself-- is Terran. He is saturated with the energy of the Cryptographers. Then he is fused with the power of the Mucilageans. Thus is created the body of the Emperor."

"When you say 'fused...'"

"A Terran and a Mucilagean are merged. They become a single body."

"Oh, boy. I think I see where this is going. So you need a new, uh, infusion?"

"No. My body is Terran. It decays. More slowly than most, but it decays. Soon it will perish. A new body must be created. The Emperor stays, but he must Change."

Dass remained quiet, his brow knitted. The Emperor continued.

"After the body is created, it is formed into the likeness of the Emperor. Then the memories of the Emperor are handed over."

"When you say 'handed over,' you mean you wipe out what's there and download yourself into their brain? Its brain? How does that work?"

The Emperor shook his head.

The memories are transferred, but the soul is not. I can remember the smell of the grass in the fields of Old Terra, eight hundred years ago, but this body has never smelled it." He closed his eyes, remembering. "When the Mucilagean and the Terran are merged, their minds are still distinct, but they soon operate as a single mind. They quickly grow together. When the memories are transferred, the combined minds have access to all the wealth of knowledge of the Emperor, from the founding of the Imperium to the current day."

"That sounds exactly like the kind of nonsensically complex idea the Cryptographers would come up with."

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"Regardless of complexity, it meets all the critera." The Emperor gave Dass a direct stare. "In case you have not already gathered, I want you to be part of the Change."

"Uh huh."

They sat in silence for a moment. The Emperor gave Dass some time to think through all he'd just been told.

"Honestly," Dass said, "When this all started, I figured you were just going to drain my protein fluids to keep yourself young or whatever."

The Emperor smiled wryly.

"If you accept, the Change will purge your body. You will be healed. And now you know the terrible price of that treatment. You must become a part of the Emperor."

"Would I still be... me?"

The Emperor breathed in deeply.

"In a manner of speaking. You will change. You will be brought together with another person. You will become more. You will both become something new. Over time, you will become a single entity."

"What's it like?" Dass asked quietly.

The Emperor sat quietly for a while, thinking.

"It cannot be explained," he said finally. "It can only be experienced."

"Do you regret it? Either of you in there?"

"There is no 'two of us' any more. There is only me." The Emperor smiled. "I regret many things about being the Emperor. I do not, however, regret the Change."

"How long have you been-- I mean, how long has it been since the last Change?"

"Too long. My body is weakening, my energy draining. It's been over 120 years, if my memory is correct."

"Hm. Emperor. And everybody said I'd never amount to much."

"You would be different than me. You have different priorities, you will make different choices. You will freshen the Emperor, and through him, the Imperium."

"But I don't know anything about being an Emperor," Dass said.

"You will."

"This is all... a lot."

The Emperor nodded.

"The time has come, Dass. What will you choose? Death, or the Emperor?"

Captain Cohrmere kept his jaw set as they traveled through jumpspace. He'd never learned to like it, as some Captains claimed to. He simply endured, for the joy of traveling the galaxy and the glory of the Imperium.

This young Admiral, he served under, Admiral Stonefist; now he was a real firebrand. As the newest Admiral of the Ninth Fleet, he was already making a name for himself. A little too focused on breaking the pirates, in Captain Cohrmere's opinion, but talented, driven, and honorable.

Early on, Captain Cohrmere had harbored some doubts about Admiral Stonefist's age, but after having served under him, he was certain that the Admiral would mature wonderfully, and would be remembered well in the history books of the Imperium.

Captain Cohrmere considered the upcoming battle with the Dragonscale pirates, as well as he could under the circumstances. They'd been raiding a number of outposts lately, and now they'd graduated to attacked Arcturus, a colonized planet.

However he felt about Admiral Stonefist's monomaniacal focus on pirates, he had to admit that this was precisely why you couldn't overlook them. Like vines, if you let them go, they'd grow until they overtook and destroyed what you treasured.

Captain Cohrmere's detachment had staged up and entered the jumphole shortly after the main force. More of the Ninth Fleet was behind them, ready to take on the scum of the Imperium.

The harsh, unrelenting energy of jumpspace sleeted across his psyche. He frowned, gripping the rail of the captain's dais.

They emerged from jumpspace.

The 43 ships of Captain Cohrmere's detachment appeared, ready to do battle with pirates over Arcturus.

"Weapons hot!" Captain Cohrmere commanded. "Shields up! Prepare for battle!"

The temporal officer was strangely silent.

"Lieutenant Commander Bravard, what was our time in jumpspace?" Captain Cohrmere barked.

"Sir," officer replied, "the readings are a bit…" He trailed off

"Just tell me what you see, Lieutenant Commander."

The temporal officer set his jaw and spoke in a loud, clear voice.

"22 years, 17 days, 9 hours and 14 minutes relative time spent in jumpspace, sir!"

Silence ringed the bridge.

"Give me a full sector scan," Captain Cohrmere said quietly. "I want to know what's going on here."

Tense busyness filled the bridge for a minute. Results slowly trickled in streaming by on the bridge monitor.

The bridge officer finally spoke up.

"Sir, there's nothing here."

Captain Cohrmere scanned the incoming data, growing more tense.

"This leaves us with quite a puzzle," Captain Cohrmere said. "Where are the pirates? Where is the Ninth Fleet?" His brows drew down. "Where is Arcturus? Lieutenant Marisel, where are we?"

"Checking, sir. Cross-referencing star charts." The calculation took a while, as the bridge computers chugged through all the star maps of the known galaxy.

"Sir, we're in the Nymria sector."

"Nymria? That's halfway across the galaxy from Arcturus! We've gone through the wrong jumphole, somehow. Admiral Stonefist needs us in the battle. Let's get the fleet turned around and head back, see if we can figure out what's going on."

"Sir," said the communications officer. "We're receiving a comms request. It claims to be from Admiral Stonefist. It's a valid Imperium signature."

"Very well. Let's answer. Lieutenant Marisel, deep-scan the sector while we chat."

Captain Cohrmere activated the control to project the comms onto the bridge monitor.

"This is Captain Cohrmere of the ISS Helix, Ninth Fleet. Who am I speaking with?"

A face appeared on the screen, a puzzling image. It was the face of a mature man with a fierce expression, piercing eyes, and salt-and-pepper hair. He wore the stars of an Admiral on his collar. The man looked so much like Admiral Stonefist that Captain Cohrmere would swear it was Stonefist's father.

A strange look crossed the man's face.

"Captain Cohrmere," he said. "It is good to see you again. Welcome back to realspace."

"Do I know you, sir?"

The man on the bridge monitor saluted slowly.

"I am Admiral Grimthorn Stonefist," he said, "of the ISS Swordheart, Ninth Fleet."

Captain Cohrmere gave the monitor a level look.

"I understand that this must be confusing," Admiral Stonefist said. "You are safe in this sector. Let us gather on the Swordheart. I will explain everything there."

Captain Cohrmere muted the comms.

"Lieutenant Marisel, what has your deep scan found?"

"Sir, the communications are coming from a Navy shuttle. The ISS Swordheart is stationed nearby. There is also a Cryptographer ship in the sector."

Captain Cohrmere frowned. Something very strange was going on here.

"Is there some kind of trick, here?" he asked the Lieutenant.

"The encrypted channels of all the ships are valid, sir. The ships' energy signatures match precisely what we would expect."

Captain Cohrmere took a deep breath and unmuted the comms.

"Very well," he said. "We will rendezvous with the Swordheart as soon as possible."

A dozen captains sat in the spacious, comfortable conference room on board the Swordheart, waiting for the Admiral.

After a few minutes, Admiral Stonefist arrived. Captain Cohrmere stiffened. When they'd prepared for Arcturus a few hours earlier, Admiral Stonefist was a young, hotheaded man in his mid-twenties. Now he looked... old. Tired. He looked as though his fierceness had hardened into bitterness.

"Admiral Stonefist, what the devil is going on here?" he asked.

"Captain," Admiral Stonefist said, "I understand you have many questions. Please be patient, and I will explain." Grimthorn took a deep breath and addressed the assembled captains. "The battle of Arcturus is already over. The Dragonscale pirates have been destroyed. However, due to a mishap, you have all been trapped in jumpspace for over 20 years." He paused "Thanks to the efforts of the Cryptographers, you have been rescued. They sacrificed one of their own to effect the rescue."

"What happened?" one of the captains asked.

"The pirates managed to get hold of a quantum disruptor," Grimthorn said. "In the course of the battle, they collapsed the jumphole while your detachment was in traversal."

The assembled captains muttered among themselves.

"How are we here, then?" Another captain asked. "Nothing has ever been retrieved from jumpspace before."

Admiral Grimthorn made a calming motion with his hands.

"We can get into the details later. For now, all I can say is that the Cryptographers were able to calculate your location in jumpspace. We opened a temporary jumphole for you to escape from."

"You say we were trapped in jumpspace for twenty years, but we weren't. It only felt like a few minutes, like always."

Grimthorn frowned.

"Time and space as we know them don't exist in jumpspace. In all likelihood, it was only a few minutes for you." Admiral Stonefist looked strangely relieved as he said this.

"If we've been gone for twenty years, what happened to our families? Our careers?"

Grimthorn's face drew in. He looked at Captain Cohrmere with pity.

"After the battle of Arcturus, you were all declared legally dead." The room buzzed with panic. Grimthorn held up his hands. "You and your crews will want to get in touch with everyone you knew. I would advise patience. The Navy will confirm that you are who you say you are, but many people will have moved on. Many may disbelieve you. Some... may have passed on themselves. It will take time to sort everything out."

"What of our benefits?" asked one young captain.

"You have all been reinstated at your previous rank and duties. You will all receive back pay for the last twenty-two years. Under the circumstances, anyone who wishes to leave the Navy will receive a medical discharge, no questions asked."

The room erupted with questions. Admiral Stonefist fielded them, soothing nerves and helping to organize paperwork.

After a couple hours, the captains began to depart, with their questions answered, if not satisfactorily. They prepared to inform their crews and manage the paperwork and hassle of coming back to life after twenty years.

"Captain Cohrmere," Admiral Stonefist said as the captains were leaving. "Please stay a moment."

"Sir?"

Admiral Stonefist's eyes looked strangely moist.

"Please sit. We need to talk about your daughter, Jorya."