Bones of Empire by William C. Dietz

Cato’s direction. “You know Centurion Cato, of course. . . . May I take this opportunity to tell you what a fine police officer he is?”
    â€œYes, of course,” Inobo replied noncommittally. He was aware that Cato was on Corin at the Legate’s request but was surprised to hear Usurlus speak of him so warmly, and suspicious as well. Was Cato blackmailing Usurlus? Forcing him to say positive things? Yes, Inobo decided. Nothing else could explain it.
    â€œWell, then,” Usurlus said, as the three of them took seats around a conference table that was shaped like the room. “Let’s get this meeting under way. Proctor Theno? Are you ready?”
    The proctor was an AI who, through various iterations of himself, was presently presiding over more than two dozen such meetings, all of which had one thing in common—a need for a government-sanctioned witness that couldn’t lie, couldn’t forget what had been said, and couldn’t be bought off. That made Inobo even more nervous since he knew that whatever was said to him, and the way in which he responded, would be on record for however long the Empire lasted. Proctor Theno’s melodic voice seemed to originate from nowhere and everywhere at once. “I am ready. . . . The session has begun. Please proceed.”
    â€œThank you,” Usurlus said as he looked Inobo in the eye. “Before Cato and I can begin, some history is in order. You may or may not have read the report I wrote on the subject, but I suspect a refresher would be useful, and it makes sense to capture the information in the official record as well.”
    Inobo knew that a report written by Usurlus was included in Cato’s P-1 file but had never taken the time to read it, so he was careful to limit his response to a nod that was immediately captured by more than a dozen vid cams that were built into the walls.
    Cato had clearly come prepared because his account of what had taken place on Dantha, including his pursuit of a shape shifter named Verafti, was succinct and professionally neutral. The account concluded with the discovery of Verafti’s hand and what looked like sure evidence of the murderous Sagathi’s death. And, based on what Inobo could pick up from Cato’s emotions, he was telling the truth.
    Usurlus nodded in agreement as the narrative came to an end. “So that was the end of it, or so we assumed, until yesterday. Cato, please tell Primus Pilus Inobo what you observed.”
    Inobo listened intently as his subordinate described the processional, the errant breeze, and his brief glimpse of Emor. Then, as Cato made his incredible announcement regarding the Emperor’s true identity, it was all Inobo could do to keep from laughing. A reaction that, while appropriate given the far-fetched nature of Cato’s allegation, would be politically inadvisable, given his subordinate’s relationship with Usurlus. With that in mind, Inobo chose his words with care. “That’s a very serious accusation if true. What would you have me do?”
    â€œI want you to launch an official investigation,” Usurlus replied soberly. “Perhaps Cato was mistaken. I hope he was. If so, it should be easy to establish. All that is required is for you and let’s say two subordinates to take a quick look at the Emperor. If he’s Uman, you’ll know right away. If he isn’t, that will be apparent as well. Then, depending on your findings, the appropriate actions can be taken.”
    It wasn’t that simple, of course. There was no way to carry out such an inspection without the Emperor’s agreement. And by approaching the Emperor’s staff with such an outlandish request, Inobo would not only draw attention to himself but invite Emor’s wrath. Along with possibly dire consequences.
    But he couldn’t ignore an official request from a Legate even if he believed that Cato was either mistaken or running a