Juliyana rolled her eyes. “It’s your money, sir. It’ll be mine by Sunday, though.”
“What game?” the guard said, his interest picking up.
“Krakens versus Star Busters,” Juliyana told him. She laughed. “The Colonel actually thinks the Krakens can win.”
The guard whistled, laughing.
The guard waiting for my ID to pop up on his pad smiled, his gaze down. Only then did he notice the shriver in my holster. He took a large step back. “You’re armed!”
My breath checked. I think my metabolism actually halted for a second. Then I pulled myself together. “Check my credentials, Sergeant,” I said, with the bored voice of a colonel sure of her status.
“Sid,” the other guard said softly, and held out his pad.
Sid glanced at the pad, then studied it closely. He lifted his own. He looked up at me, across to Juliyana, who still wore a small smile, as if her amusement over the Krakens was slow to fade.
Then he shook his head. “Well, I’ve never seen one of these, although I’ve heard of ‘em. Sorry, Colonel. Please pass through.” He stepped out of the way. “Lieutenant,” he added as Juliyana stepped through behind me, for we had upgraded her to her old rank.
“Sergeant,” Juliyana acknowledged. “Don’t work too hard, huh?”
“Never,” he shot back.
She laughed and caught up with me.
“You’re a natural at this,” I told her with a voice low enough that the guards rapidly falling behind us wouldn’t hear.
“I’m fucking terrified,” she murmured back. “I had to talk or I would have vomited.”
The passage ramped upward at a gentle angle, then opened into the diorama.
I had to admit, it was impressive. As the heart of the Carinad Empire, it was an adequate statement. Gleaming surfaces, rich details, a blend of pleasing colors and textures. Artwork and museum pieces from Terran antiquity revolved on plinths circling the perimeter of the diorama, each plinth with a molecular barrier holding an inert zero atmosphere around the precious objects to preserve them—and to keep sticky hands off them.
Civilians strolled from plinth to plinth, reading the inscriptions and marveling, while uniformed Shield and Rangers crossed the circle, heading for the many doors and passages that led from the diorama.
“Noam, you did well,” I said softly.
“Thank you,” Noam replied in my ear. “Now Lyth and I must work together. Pick a passage on the sunward side of the palace. We will guide you from there.”
“Copy.” Juliyana and I headed for the sun-side of the diorama and paused to admire a piece of dried-out something or other. I didn’t read the inscription. Then we moved onto the next, then, with a casual glance around for observers, we angled away from the circle of plinths and moved toward a corridor that opened off the diorama and ran deeper into that side of the palace.
On the four occasions I had attended meetings or functions in the palace, the rooms had always been on the other side of the diorama from this one. The public function rooms did have freely available floor plans, including this wing of the palace, but the rest of the building was a blank. Noam and Lyth between them would build a floor plan as we moved about, for the nanobots would report to Lyth on walls and structures, passively scanning as we moved.
From that basic plan, and Noam’s raiding of staff rosters and other domestic documentation for the palace, the two of them would extrapolate the location of the private apartments. Plus we had another unexpected source of information.
“One of the cleaning companies has the sole task of cleaning the Emperor’s private study,” Noam had told us, while we were prepping for this. “Three people, the same three people, escorted there and monitored, then escorted back. The private study will be on the perimeter of the apartments, where members of the public and high-ranking Shield officers can meet with the Emperor when requested, without passing through the apartments, or forcing the Emperor to move out into the public rooms. We will build a model of the palace as you move and guide you to where we think the study is.”
“And what if the Emperor isn’t in his study?” Juliyana had asked. “We’ll be there around breakfast time—he might be eating with his family.”
“On the day of his birthday honors?” Dalton said and shook his head. “Ramaker is the most powerful man in the empire. There will be a steady stream of politicians and heads of state—corporate and ball-bound—all with gifts to honor his birthday and favors to curry. He’ll be in his study, trust me. Probably in his formal uniform, too.”
I nodded. “Good. Then we’ll look for people streaming through the corridors.”
“They won’t be lining up,” Dalton said, sounding alarmed. “Waiting in line is for grunts. Each guest will wait in a sitting room and be escorted to the study when it’s their turn.”
I looked at him suspiciously. “How do you know so much about what happens in the Emperor’s private apartment on his birthday?”
Dalton grew wary. I could see it in his eyes.
“I imagine he had a personal moment with the Emperor the morning he was given his Decoration for Service to the Empire,” Noam said. “That is the normal procedure.”
Everyone looked at Dalton then.
“That was over a hundred years ago.” Dalton changed the subject with a snarly attitude and sharp questions. We were too busy to get back to it later.
I thought about that discussion as we traversed the first corridor into the depths of the palace private wing. I knew Dalton would be standing over Noam and Lyth’s shoulders right now, dredging up what he could from his memory and adding it to their map building.
We began by walking up a set of stone steps that Noam directed us to. At the top was a security door with
