in their long careers. But it was always on paper—kept at a distance, with at least a cloak of respectability thrown over it by their legions of legal experts. This was real! And, Kyes had to admit, extremely exciting. He was as susceptible to the excitement as the rest.
"Try it this way," he said. "We send enough ships to do the job, just as our colleagues proposed. Except, we send one small craft far out ahead. Something lightly armed. And not too expensive…
"Then, we have the ship deliberately violate the Honjo cluster's borders."
"That'll piss 'em, sure," the skinny Kraa said. She liked where he was going. "Then we just waggle our arses, make 'em shoot…"
"And we retaliate! And boom! It's ours!" Lovett finished.
Everyone was pleased with the plan. Oddly, the Kraas had an important caution.
"We need a bleedin' alibi," the fat one said. "So's it don't look too planned out, if yer get me drift."
They did indeed.
"Perhaps we should stage some kind of economic summit?" Malperin suggested. They had never had one before—there was not much economy to contemplate—but they understood the connection.
"Here's what we do," Malperin said. "And we can achieve two goals at once. It's about time for a little good news."
There were murmurs of agreement about the table. The situation was deteriorating so quickly they were all afraid to look it straight in the eye. But as system after system drifted away from their grasp, it always remained at the edge of their vision, like a recurrent nightmare.
Malperin proposed that they release a canned study, showing that the steadily dipping economic curve had bottomed out and was at last turning upward. Simultaneously, they would convene the privy council for the Economic Summit, a summit they would claim would set the course of the Empire for the next six or seven years.
They would play up the summit as the most important event since the death of the Emperor. Full media coverage. Pull out all stops. She also suggested where such a summit could be held, for maximum suspense.
It would be staged on Earth, in Tanz Sullamora's old fishing camp, now revitalized for the use of the council for their most private meetings.
There they would convene, innocently contemplating things of great and holy importance—the public good. At that moment, the Honjo would make their unprovoked attack on the defenseless Imperial ship.
The Kraas figured the booty would fill a spacetrain ten or fifteen kilometers long.
"That's a lot of clottin' AM2," the skinny one said.
Kyes agreed. It certainly was a clottin' lot of AM2.
Mahoney bounced into Sten's suite, happily singing/humming what he remembered of a medieval ballad: "Let me something my eyes… dah… dah… dah dah dah day, on the something green hills of Earth…"
He crossed to Sten's video display and booted up the news menu:
NEW COURSE FOR EMPIRE
The drop:
BIG 5 TO CONVENE
ECONOMIC SUMMIT
AT HISTORIC RETREAT
Sten read the story closely, Alex hanging over his shoulder.
"We would appear," Sten said, "to have acquired a Target Opportunity."
Mahoney beamed. "Never could figure why the black hats think there's safety out in the boonies. Maybe because they're usually ex-city punks?"
"Ah dinna ken either," Kilgour said. "But gie me a moor w' a wee rock to skulk behin', an' hae f'r a rest, an' Ah'm as happy ae a butcher wi' his mallet."
"That's it," Sten said. "Now… let's kill us some politicos!"
CHAPTER NINE
T he privy council's announcement was the trigger for the final meeting of Ian Mahoney's "conspirators." They had a single target and a time to hit it.
The "conspiracy" had already gone on far too long for Mahoney's comfort. As a rule of thumb the less time passed and the less those involved had to meet in any covert operation, the less likelihood that operation would be blown or self-destruct. He mentally put both conspiracy and conspirators in quotes. Because while his plan would ensure that anyone involved was for the high
"Try it this way," he said. "We send enough ships to do the job, just as our colleagues proposed. Except, we send one small craft far out ahead. Something lightly armed. And not too expensive…
"Then, we have the ship deliberately violate the Honjo cluster's borders."
"That'll piss 'em, sure," the skinny Kraa said. She liked where he was going. "Then we just waggle our arses, make 'em shoot…"
"And we retaliate! And boom! It's ours!" Lovett finished.
Everyone was pleased with the plan. Oddly, the Kraas had an important caution.
"We need a bleedin' alibi," the fat one said. "So's it don't look too planned out, if yer get me drift."
They did indeed.
"Perhaps we should stage some kind of economic summit?" Malperin suggested. They had never had one before—there was not much economy to contemplate—but they understood the connection.
"Here's what we do," Malperin said. "And we can achieve two goals at once. It's about time for a little good news."
There were murmurs of agreement about the table. The situation was deteriorating so quickly they were all afraid to look it straight in the eye. But as system after system drifted away from their grasp, it always remained at the edge of their vision, like a recurrent nightmare.
Malperin proposed that they release a canned study, showing that the steadily dipping economic curve had bottomed out and was at last turning upward. Simultaneously, they would convene the privy council for the Economic Summit, a summit they would claim would set the course of the Empire for the next six or seven years.
They would play up the summit as the most important event since the death of the Emperor. Full media coverage. Pull out all stops. She also suggested where such a summit could be held, for maximum suspense.
It would be staged on Earth, in Tanz Sullamora's old fishing camp, now revitalized for the use of the council for their most private meetings.
There they would convene, innocently contemplating things of great and holy importance—the public good. At that moment, the Honjo would make their unprovoked attack on the defenseless Imperial ship.
The Kraas figured the booty would fill a spacetrain ten or fifteen kilometers long.
"That's a lot of clottin' AM2," the skinny one said.
Kyes agreed. It certainly was a clottin' lot of AM2.
Mahoney bounced into Sten's suite, happily singing/humming what he remembered of a medieval ballad: "Let me something my eyes… dah… dah… dah dah dah day, on the something green hills of Earth…"
He crossed to Sten's video display and booted up the news menu:
NEW COURSE FOR EMPIRE
The drop:
BIG 5 TO CONVENE
ECONOMIC SUMMIT
AT HISTORIC RETREAT
Sten read the story closely, Alex hanging over his shoulder.
"We would appear," Sten said, "to have acquired a Target Opportunity."
Mahoney beamed. "Never could figure why the black hats think there's safety out in the boonies. Maybe because they're usually ex-city punks?"
"Ah dinna ken either," Kilgour said. "But gie me a moor w' a wee rock to skulk behin', an' hae f'r a rest, an' Ah'm as happy ae a butcher wi' his mallet."
"That's it," Sten said. "Now… let's kill us some politicos!"
CHAPTER NINE
T he privy council's announcement was the trigger for the final meeting of Ian Mahoney's "conspirators." They had a single target and a time to hit it.
The "conspiracy" had already gone on far too long for Mahoney's comfort. As a rule of thumb the less time passed and the less those involved had to meet in any covert operation, the less likelihood that operation would be blown or self-destruct. He mentally put both conspiracy and conspirators in quotes. Because while his plan would ensure that anyone involved was for the high
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