The Collapsing Empire (The Interdependency #1)(17)

“So what we’re saying is we’re fucked.”

“That would be the gist of it, yes, ma’am.”

Kiva put her head in her hands for a couple of moments, then looked over to Blinnikka. “When do we leave End?”

“We have some ship maintenance we’re taking care of while we’re here at Imperial Station, and Gazson here is taking on some additional crew to make up for the ones we lost at Lankaran. We’re here for another week.”

“Can we stretch that?”

“Not really,” Blinnikka said. “Our current dock is claimed nine days from now. Imperial Station needs a full day for cargo clearance and reset. We have seven days and then we have to move.”

“Then seven days it is.”

“Seven days for what?” Magnut asked.

“For a fucking miracle to happen and save our asses,” Kiva said. “That’s not too much to ask for, is it?”





Chapter

3

Technically speaking, upon the moment of the death of Emperox Attavio IV, Cardenia became the new emperox. Realistically speaking, nothing is ever that simple.

“You are going to have to officially declare a period of mourning,” Naffa Dolg said to her, in what had suddenly and officially become her office. It was now only moments after her father had died; his body was currently being removed from his bedroom—her bedroom—via a litter that had borne the bodies of nearly all the emperoxs who had been lucky enough to actually die at home. Cardenia had seen the litter, stored away in one of the other rooms in the private apartment, and thought it a ghastly bit of business, and realized that one day, it was very likely her bones would be carted out on it too. Tradition had its downsides.

Cardenia laughed to herself.

“Car?” Naffa said.

“I’m having morbid thoughts,” Cardenia said.

“I can give you a couple of minutes for yourself.”

“But only a couple.”

“The transition of emperoxs is a busy time,” Naffa said, as gently as possible.

“How long is the official mourning period supposed to be?”

“It’s traditionally five standard days.”

Cardenia nodded. “The rest of the Interdependency gets five days. I get five minutes.”

“I’m going to come back,” Naffa said, getting up.

“No.” Cardenia shook her head. “Keep me busy, Naf.”

Naffa kept her busy.

First: the official declaration of mourning. Cardenia went down the hall to the office of Gell Deng, her father’s (and now, unless she chose otherwise, her) personal secretary, who would transmit the order. Cardenia was worried that she would have to dictate something that sounded official, but Deng had the declaration already ready for her—which shouldn’t have surprised her. Many emperoxs had come and gone during the time of the Interdependency.

Cardenia read over the declaration, its contents hallowed by time and consecrated by tradition, found the language ossified and musty, but was in no condition mentally to revise. So she nodded her assent, took a pen to sign, and then hesitated.

“What is it, Your Majesty?” Deng said, and some part of Cardenia’s brain noted that this was the first time anyone had called her that officially.

“I don’t know how to sign this,” Cardenia said. “I haven’t chosen my official name yet.”

“If you prefer, you may simply sign it with the imperial seal for now.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Deng got out wax and seal, melted the wax, and gave the seal to Cardenia to press. She did, the seal lifting off the imperial green wax, revealing the crest of the Wu family with the imperial crown above it. Her crown.

Cardenia handed the seal back to Deng and noticed he was crying. “This makes it official,” he said to her. “You are the emperox now, Your Majesty.”

“How long did you serve my father?” Cardenia asked.

“Thirty-nine years,” Deng said, and looked about to break down. Impulsively Cardenia reached over and hugged him, and after a moment broke the hug.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You’re the emperox, ma’am,” Deng said. “You can do anything you want.”

“Keep me from inappropriate familiarity from now on, please,” Cardenia said to Naffa, after they left the secretary’s office.

“I thought it was sweet,” Naffa said. “That poor old man. He’s had a rough day.”

“His boss died.”

“Yes, but he also assumes he lost his job. Normally by this time the new emperox’s set of cronies are busy installing themselves into positions of power. His is a position of power, nominally.”

“I don’t have any cronies,” Cardenia said. “I mean, besides you.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll have volunteers.”

“What do I have next?”

“You’re meeting with the executive committee in half an hour.”

Cardenia frowned at this. “We can’t get to Xi’an that quickly.” The executive committee, as with nearly all of the imperial apparatus of state, did its work in the immense space station above Hub.