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"That's important, huh?"
The Emperor didn't say another word. Just dumped in the peppers, punched a few buttons on his
cooking console, stirred, then dipped up a huge spoonful of the mess and offered it to Mahoney. He
watched intently as Mahoney tasted. Not ba then it hit him. His face went on fire, his ears steamed and
he choked for breath. The Emperor pounded him on the back, big grin on his face, and then offered him
a glass of beer. Mahoney slugged it down. Wheezed.
"Guess I got it just right," the Emperor said "You mean you did that on purpose?" "Sure. It's supposed to
scorch the hair off your butt. Otherwise it wouldn't be chili." The Emperor poured them both two beers,
motioned to Mahoney to join him, and settled down in a huge, overstuffed couch. "Okay. You earned
your check this month. Now, how about the next?"
"You mean Thoresen?" "Yeah, Thoresen." "Zero, zero, zero." "Maybe we should escalate."
"I was gonna recommend that in my report. But it's dangerous. We could blow the whole thing." "How
so?"
"It's Lester. He says there's a lot more motion on Bravo Project. And he's got a way in. Trouble is, if
he's caught, we're out an inside man."
The Emperor thought a moment. Then sighed. "Tell him to go ahead." He drained his glass, filled it with
more beer. "Now, what about the other matter?" "The gun smuggling? Well, I still can't prove it." "But it's
happening? That's a fact, right?" "Yeah," Mahoney said. "We know for sure that four planets all
supposedly our confederates are shipping weapons to Vulcan."
"Thoresen again. To hell with it. Let's quit playing games with the man. Send in the Guard. Stomp him
out." "Uh, that's not such a hot idea, boss. I mean " "I know. I know. Lousy diplomatic move. But what
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about my 'buddies' on those other four planets? No reason I can't take them out"
"It's done."
The emperor grinned. Finally, a little action. "Mantis Section?"
"I sent in four teams," Mahoney said. "I guarantee those guns will stop."
"Without any diplomatic repercussions?"
"Not a whisper."
The Emperor liked that even better. He got up from his couch and walked over to the bubbling pot.
Sniffed it. Nice. He started dishing up two platefuls.
"Join me for dinner, Mahoney?"
Mahoney was out of the couch in a hurry and headed for the door. "Thanks, boss, any night but tonight.
I gotta "
"Hot date?"
"Yeah," Mahoney said. "Whatever that is. Not as hot as that stuff."
And he was gone. The Emperor went back to his chili. Wondering which members of the Royal Court
deserved to share his company tonight.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE BARON WATCHED the screen anxiously as a swarm of Techs moved quickly about the
freighter's hold, making final connections and adjustments. This was it. A few more minutes and he would
learn if all the credits and danger were worth it
The Bravo Project test was taking place light years away from Vulcan, and far away from normal
shipping lanes. The picture on Thoresen's screen changed as the Techs finished, then hustled out of the
hold, crammed into a shuttle and started moving away from the ancient freighter.
Thoresen turned to the Tech beside him, who was studying swiftly changing figures on his own screen.
Then: "Ready, sir."
Thoresen took a deep breath, then told the Tech to begin.
"Countdown initiated . . .**
The shuttle came to a stop many kilometers away from the freighter. The on-board Techs went to work,
changing programs in their computers, getting ready for the final signal.
The inside of the freighter had been gutted, and at opposite ends the Techs had constructed two huge
devices they would have been called rail guns in ancient times each aimed exactly at the electric
"bore" of the other.
Thoresen barely heard the countdown. He was concentrating on the two images on the screen: One was
of a huge glowing emptiness inside the hold of the freighter. The other was of the outside of the freighter,
the shuttle in the foreground. The Tech tapped him on a shoulder. They were ready to go. All of a
sudden, the Baron felt very relaxed. Flashed a rare smile at the Tech, punched in the code that was the
trigger.
The "rail guns" fired, and two subatomic particles of identical mass were hurled at each other, reaching
the speed of light instantly. Then beyond. Thoresen's screen flared and then it was over literally almost
before it began. Then his screen came to life again. Nothing. Just yawning space. No freighter, no
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"The shuttle," the Tech screamed. "It's gone. They're
all "
"Clot the shuttle," Thoresen snapped. "What happened?"
His fingers flew over computer keys as he ordered up a replay of the incident this time at speeds he
could see.
The particles floated toward each other, leaving comet trails. Pierced the magnetic bubble that was the
glowing spot inside the hold, and then met . . . And met . . . And met . . . Then they vanished . . .
reappeared . . . moved in and out of time/space . . . until they were replaced by a single, much different
particle. Thoresen laughed he had done it. Suddenly, the magnetic envelope began to collapse. There
was a blinding flash of light and the freighter and shuttle disappeared in an enormous explosion.
The Baron turned to the Tech, who was still in shock. "I want the timetable moved up."
The Tech gaped at him. "But those men on the shuttle? . . ." Thoresen frowned, looked at his empty,
screen, and then understood.
"Oh, yes. The unfortunate accident. It shouldn't be too hard to replace them."
He started out of the lab, paused a moment. "Oh, and tell the next crew to back off a little more from the
freighter. Techs are expensive."
Lester smiled and patted the Tech on the shoulder. The man babbled something and tears began to roll
down his cheeks. Lester leaned forward to listen. Just baby talk. And nothing more to learn.
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It had been easy, Lester thought. Easier than he had expected. He had been working on the Tech for
half a dozen cycles. Subtle hints of money, a new identity, a lifetime residence paid up on some
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