The Admiral and the Assistant

The chamber was small and dim, buried as it was, deep in the Sedes Imperialis. Inlaid marble designs in the floor made a compass of thirteen points, with a circle at each point. In the center was the grand seal of the Imperium.

Twelve Cryptographers stood in twelve of the circles. One remained empty-- the last one that lay pointing in the direction of Old Terra.

The Emperor walked in with somber aplomb. His walk was stately and slow. His condition had continued to degrade as the months of preparations had passed. His flesh was shiny, pulled tight over his skeleton. His breathing was labored, raspy.

He paused in the empty point of the compass.

"It is time for the Change," he intoned. "The replacements have been chosen and prepared. Are there any here who object?"

A hissing, chittering moan arose from the assembled Cryptographers.

"Then it is agreed." The Emperor walked into the center of the compass, standing on the great seal of the Imperium. "Broca, Dass, come forth."

The two stepped forward into the grainy, dim light of the room. With similar stateliness, they joined the Emperor on the seal.

Broca looked more clear-eyed than he had weeks before. His time away from the Cryptographers had restored some of his humanity. Dass looked no worse; the medical treatments had kept him stable. He still sagged and drooped more than he would have liked, but he stiffly held himself together in deference to the formality of the situation.

The Emperor lifted his hands.

"You shall no more be Broca Brangwin. You shall no more be Dass Gunstar. You shall be the Emperor of the Imperium. The Emperor continues, as the Imperium continues. All hail the Imperium."

"All hail," Broca and Dass said in unison.

"Let us begin."

The Cryptographers began chanting, filling the chamber with a low, steady thrumming sound, shot through with crackling and scratchy clicking. The Emperor set a strange device on the floor in the dead center of the seal. It was small, and flickered strangely, as though it was not fully in this dimension.

"Join hands with me," the Emperor said.

The three clasped each other's hands firmly.

The Cryptographers continued chanting, their otherworldly voices fading into the background. The Emperor's eyes glowed as the device powered on. His grip tightened on their hands.

"Don't be scared," he said in a voice like thunder.

The field on Letri Prime was open and bright. A rich scent of flowers filled the air. Huge blossoms hung down over the assembled guests, who were arranged in rows, separated by a wide aisle. A red carpet had been laid down the length of the aisle.

A small group of people had gathered-- no more than fifty-- to attend the ceremony. They were closely surrounded by lush green grass and the thick stalks of the flowers. Further back, a dense forest grew. Exotic birds chirped and warbled. A warm, gentle breeze blew across the ceremony.

Stately music played in the background. Old Admiral Balia of the Third Fleet stepped out into the aisle. He made his way to the front to take his place as officiant of the wedding. He was in full dress whites, with white gloves and gold piping on his white jacket. A broad gold cummerbund circled his middle.

He turned with military precision and stood at parade rest.

Admiral Stonefist stepped into the aisle. He strode forward with a slow, measured step, in time to the music. He, too, was in his dinner dress blues; a white outfit with a black bow tie.

Grimthorn had overheard some of the very intense discussions Kinnit had been having with the insectiform dressmakers of Bella Luna Dressworks, and he was very happy that all the wardrobe decisions for the rest of his life had been established when he'd joined the Navy.

He reached the front of the ceremony and nodded to Captain Cohrmere, his best man. He turned, surveying the attendees. On the groom's side of the aisle was a small collection of military men: old friends and war heroes. Even Admiral Cora Din had elected to attend, perched on the edge of one of the chairs. On the bride's side was mostly a collection of Kobolds, with a sprinkling of Terrans in Navy uniforms. Grimthorn recognized a few of the Kobolds from his time spent on Takkar. There were no more than three dozen, and they were unexpectedly well-behaved.

He'd overheard some of the very intense instructions Kinnit had been giving them about appropriate wedding behavior earlier, and he was very happy he'd already been properly trained in formal protocol and etiquette.

The music swelled, and Kinnit stepped from behind the trees at the back of the ceremony. Grimthorn's heart caught at the sight of her, and his knees wobbled.

She was beautifully arrayed in a traditional Imperial wedding outfit: a white tunic, trailing dress, and a flame-red veil. Saffron shoes peeked out from beneath her simple white gown. The locket he'd given her hung prominently around her neck. In her arms she carried a spray of flowers. Her beautiful outfit was overshadowed by her radiant smile. Deputy Commander Kopos was at her elbow, to give her away.

Her luminous eyes found Grimthorn, and she walked toward him in the same measured steps he'd used, accompanied by Kopos. They moved slowly down the aisle in time to the music. As she reached the front, she turned and handed her bouquet to Lucy, one of her bridesmaids. Lieutenant Solborne, her other bridesmaid, stood by as well.

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She turned to Grimthorn, beaming up at him. Grimthorn, for his part, was trying his very best to stay upright. They took each other's hands.

Admiral Balia drew a small book from his coat pocket and began reading.

"Friends, guests, and family," he read, "we are come together to witness the union of Grimthorn Stonefist of Dorvalla and Kinnit Longlegs of Takkar. Is there any here who has any reason to object to this marriage?"

It was a traditional question, but Admiral Balia was wise enough to know not to let it linger too long.

"Then it will be done. We here approve of this union, by the grace of the Emperor and for the glory of the Imperium."

A slight crease of worry appeared between Kinnit's eyes while Admiral Balia droned through the ceremony in the background.

"Is this what you really want, Grimthorn?" she asked. "To be married... to me?"

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't," he said. His look softened. "It's what I would have wanted my whole life, if I'd known you earlier." He smiled. "I love you and I want to marry you. Don't worry."

Cradled in swirling eldritch energy, the trio of Broca, Dass, and the Emperor clung to each other as the Cryptographers continued their otherworldly chant.

"Now, the body," said the Emperor. "Enter a single vessel."

Dass had not been sure what to expect, but the merging of his body with Broca's happened before he even realized it. One moment, his right hand was holding the Emperor's, and his left was holding Broca's. Then, suddenly, both his hands were holding the Emperor's, and somehow both hands were holding Broca's. He blinked in surprise, then his eyes blinked again without him willing it. It was a bizarre experience; two minds controlling one body. They weren't fighting for control of their body, but they were alternately controlling different aspects of it. He could feel Broca as part of his thoughts; not separate, but distinct.

"Patience," muttered the Emperor. "It will become easier soon enough."

"Now," the Emperor continued, "the mind. Share a common memory."

He closed his eyes and muttered. Broca/Dass gasped as 800 years of Imperial history flowed into their mind. War, conspiracy, judgment and peace, stories and betrayals, friendship and loss, and the wisdom of the Emperor of the Imperium took root. Within moments, it was done.

The memories felt perfectly natural, not like some foreign construct. Their own memories. Broca/Dass could clearly remember all the way back to Old Terra, the fear and anger the downworlders held for the Cryptographers, for the Emperor himself.

"Now, the soul," the Emperor said. "Become one person."

Energy flowed into Broca/Dass. They closed their eyes as two entities in a single body, and they opened their eyes as the Emperor.

He gasped. His body was powerful, full of energy. He could remember the frailty of being Terran, the softness of being Mucilagean. He released the hands he held, and lifted them. He gazed in wonder around the room with vision clearer than he'd ever had before. He immediately began thinking of the fate of the Imperium. Looking back over the decisions he'd made over the last hundred and twenty years, he saw the gaps, the errors. He began thinking through the reforms he would make, the impacts and long-term changes that would result.

"I understand now," he said.

He looked down. Two figures huddled on the floor. One, a wizened old Terran, nearly bald, with a few white wisps still clinging to his scalp, wasted and thin. The other, a Mucilagean in the form of a Terran, except dry-looking and small.

The Emperor squatted down to address them.

"Is this what it feels like all the time?" he asked in a booming voice.

"I don't recall," said the old Terran. "My memory has left me. You have it all now." He looked over at the withered Mucilagean. "Well, most of it."

The Mucilagean smiled back.

"I remember my friend," the Mucilagean said, his voice uncertain and bubbling.

They moved closer together, putting their arms over each others' shoulders.

"We should have brought chairs for you," the Emperor said, "and some way of carrying you out." He nodded somberly to them. "I will remember, for next time."

He gazed at the pair.

The wrinkled Terran held a hand out to the Emperor. "I'm Darin Gundo. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The Emperor shook his hand solemnly.

The Mucilagean reached out.

"Parek," he said. "Just Parek. Ironically, I've never shaken an Emperor's hand before."

They shook hands.

"I'm glad to know you both," the Emperor said. "What will you do now, I wonder?"

The pair looked at each other.

"Retire," chortled Darin.

"Tell old stories to each other," replied Parek.

"Well," said the Emperor. "We will make sure you're both taken care of. The Imperium cares for her citizens."

"And what will you do, Emperor?" Parek asked.

The Emperor stood.

"I will do what I have always done. I will protect the Imperium."

Dame Haffa raised her chin and pursed her lips. She hooted a joyful tune. Kinnit joined her. The Kobolds in attendance sighed in appreciation of the performance. Grimthorn simply smiled in admiration at his bride.

As their song wound down, Admiral Balia stepped forward again, opening his little book.

"Will the bride and groom take each others' hands?"

Kinnit and Grimthorn clasped right hands.

"Speak your vows," Balia said.

Grimthorn stood straight and looked into Kinnit's face.

"I, Grimthorn Stonefist, take you to wife. I will protect you and provide for you, with all that I am, and all that I have, to the utmost end of my life. I will love you and care for you all my life. This I so swear."

Kinnit blushed and smiled.

"I, Kinnit Longlegs, take you to husband. I will care for you and love you always. In sunshine and in storms I will be by your side. I will be your one and only, now and forever. This I so swear."

"Do you have rings to exchange?" Balia asked.

"We do."

Lieutenant Solborne stepped forward and handed Kinnit a small duranium band. Captain Cohrmere, likewise, handed a slim duranium ring to Grimthorn. With his right hand still clasped to hers, Grimthorn slipped the ring onto Kinnit's left hand.

"My heart, chained to yours," he said.

She carefully placed her ring on his hand.

"My life, linked to yours," she said.

Balia drew out a soft white rope and tied their hands together at the wrist.

"By this symbol and by my authority as an officer of the Imperium, in the sight of these witnesses and the law, you are now wed. The two have become one. You may kiss the bride."

Grimthorn had worried himself, before, about this bit of performative affection during the ceremony. He hadn't seen the need for such a public demonstration. But here, at the end of the ceremony, all his worries dissipated. The cheering and clapping faded into the background, and he saw only her. He drew her to him and kissed her quite soundly.

"No need to show off," Balia muttered as the kiss went on slightly long.

They broke apart, smiling. The crowd clapped. The Kobolds hooted and yelled. They didn't really understand the ceremony-- there was no such thing on Takkar-- but they recognized a good time when they saw one, and were fully on board with a celebration.

"Shall we begin our life together?" Grimthorn said, holding her hand in both of his.

She looked up at him, her face aglow.

"Yes," she said with rock-solid sincerity.