The Emperor of Everything

Albany passed probes over Publius’s body, slowly and carefully. He removed a nerve lash from Publius’s sleeve, a stun rod from his boot, a pneumatic dart gun from a sheath at the nape of his neck. Albany continued his examination, shifting his detector frequencies in random sequences, muttering to himself. Finally he closed up his probes and nodded to Ruiz.

“He’s got sonic knives in his right forefinger and left elbow. He’s got a little pinbeam in his sternum. He’s got a transceiver in his right mastoid and a vid pickup behind his left eye. He’s got a big suicide bomb in his right buttock. That’s all I can pick up.”

“Spike him,” Ruiz ordered.

Albany raised his eyebrows, questioning. “Even the eye?”

“Yes,” said Ruiz. “Don’t worry about the meat — Publius doesn’t. He can always get more.”

Publius spluttered. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “You work for me, Ruiz Aw. This is no way to earn a bonus.”

Ruiz laughed incredulously. “Go ahead,” he told Albany.

Albany shrugged. “If you say so.” He got out a surgical laser, applied it to Publius in various spots, severing power leads, disabling sensors. When he was finished, he stepped back and leveled his big graser at the monster-maker. “All yours, Ruiz.”

Ruiz spun him around and pressed the splinter gun to Publius’s throat, angled up toward the monster-maker’s brain. “I really should kill you,” he said, and at that moment the idea appealed to him almost irresistibly.

Publius had regained his perpetual air of gracious confidence, and he smiled in what he apparently believed to be a winsome manner. “Now, now. I did nothing you wouldn’t have done, in my place.”

There was some truth in that — but that was only because Publius was Publius — or so Ruiz told himself. Yes, he’d seized the chance to commit a treachery against Publius — because he knew that Publius would be doing the same. He nodded ruefully.

“Isn’t it always the way?” Publius said.

Ruiz shook his head violently. All this musing was dangerously pointless. The universe was as it was, and he must five in it.

“Sit down,” he said, and pushed Publius toward a chair.

The monster-maker settled carefully, favoring those portions of his anatomy that Albany had treated. “What shall we do now, Ruiz? I acknowledge myself defeated — I must rely on your sense of fair play and on your desperation to be off Sook. I can still arrange it.”

“How do I know?”

Publius shrugged expressively. “Who else can help you? And I’m willing to wear the collars with you. If that isn’t sufficient guarantee of my faithfulness, there’s the matter of my puppet. At the moment, your life is only slightly less valuable to me than my own.”

Ruiz studied the collars, lying in their open case. “I’m impressed by your docility,” he said sardonically.

“Well, you’re definitely the better man, at present.” Publius spoke in a voice of mild reason.

Ruiz looked at Albany. “Fetch the old collars,” he said.

Albany nodded, smiling conspiratorially, and went aft.

The faintest hint of alarm showed in Publius’s smooth face, and Ruiz enjoyed it disproportionately. He allowed no trace of this wicked delight to show on his face.

Albany returned, bearing the madcollars that Ruiz and the Gench had worn.

Ruiz reached out and took the collar the Gench had worn. “You’re right,” he said to Publius. “We must be allies for a while. To show you that I’m reconciled to this, I’ll take the collar your Gench wore — your delicate nostrils won’t have to be offended by the stink.”

The alarm in Publius’s face increased. “Oh, no,” he said. “I won’t hear of it. I’ve brought a much finer pair, far better suited to such stylish gentlemen as we two are.”

“Put it on him,” said Ruiz.

Publius recoiled, sinking as deeply into the chair as he could. “Don’t you trust me in even the tiniest detail?”

“No.”

Publius groaned with frustration. “You’re a hard man, Ruiz.” Albany snapped the collar round his neck, and Ruiz fancied that Publius’s confidence had eroded, just a little. He found it a vastly satisfying notion. He donned the Gench’s collar, wrinkling his nose against the stench that clung strongly to the metal and plastic of the collar.

Albany handed the controller to Publius, who took it with shaking fingers. Ruiz wondered if perhaps his former collar had been fitted with some additional trap that Publius now feared. Or perhaps it was just that he was discomfitted by the turn of events, which had apparently robbed him of some crucial element of the next betrayal he had designed.

“Activate it, Emperor Publius,” Ruiz said, holding up his own controller.

“Ruiz…” began Publius in a soft reasonable voice.

“Do it now,” said Ruiz. “Or I’ll kill you and have done.”

Publius opened his mouth, shut it, nodded. They both triggered their controllers, and the collars locked on.

Ruiz clipped the controller to its loop on his collar, and holstered his splinter gun. “Now,” he said, “don’t you feel better?” He felt the easing of a vast weight; he began to hope that he could deal successfully with the monster-maker.