MASAT

Varnel started to tell the Emperor that he couldn’t do that.  That he couldn’t just kidnap almost a thousand people and whisk them off to an unheard of planet, when it dawned on him that the Emperor could – and did.  He had already kidnapped them.  And, if the Emperor was serious about what he was saying, he was about to whisk them off, too.  Varnel, uncharacteristically, decided not to say anything.  He decided to listen instead.  It was simply too incredible.

“I’m serious, Varnel.  All of us in this room are serious, otherwise we wouldn’t be here.”

Varnel looked around him at the eight other men in the Emperor’s small on-ship conference room.  He knew all of them, some closely over the years.  They all shared the Emperor’s enthusiasm over the project.  “So, the empire thinks that we’re all dead, is that it?”

The Emperor nodded.  “With the loss of your ship, Varnel, the empire, sadly, lost almost a third of our three-thousand Representatives.”

“That’s the beauty of the plan,” Abels Mignon said.  He was a primate-looking man, big, but not tall, old and gray, but still powerful.  “You can have it any way you want.  You’re already dead if you want or you can be the lone survivor unable to talk until now.  It’s your choice.”

And what a choice!  A whole planet to rule over by himself or life as usual with a major part in the project.  “And . . . my wife.  My family?”

The Emperor squinted his eyes and leaned back in his chair.  “Yes?”

“My wife. . . .”

“Do you want her?”  The emperor asked.

“My family. . . .”

“Do you want them?”

Abels chuckled, “It’s not ‘if I had my choice,’ Varnel . . . you have your choice.”

Yes, Varnel thought, he did have his choice.  His wife of all those years.  His two ungrateful children – grown now – a son and daughter.  A wife who let herself go years ago, who let herself become old.  ‘Companionship’ would be provided, they said.  His choice. . . .  He laughed nervously.  “If I choose to rise from the dead, sire, what can I expect?”

“The same as the rest of us.  A new world to plunder – wealth, intrigue, diversion from the mundane.  Pleasure.  Frequent trips to visit your . . . vacation spot.”

“Hmm.  What about your bid to return to power – to the pre-democracy days, sire?”

The Emperor squirmed in his chair.  “Eventually, people have to wake up, don’t they?  They’ll realize that they need a strong leader.  Recent events prove that, don’t they?  Of course you’ll share in that.”

Linden leaned forward in his chair and cleared his throat, “But there will always be opposition here – far more than there.  That alone is worth considering.”

Opposition is needful to sweeten the good, Varnel reminded himself.  Somehow that made him think of the comforts that he enjoyed, the physical things that made life worthwhile.  It certainly would be awhile before the new world reached the same level of comfort . . . if he ever allowed them to reach it, that is.  God, had he already decided?  “What limitations would I have there?”

“None.  As long as you keep the project alive,” the Emperor answered.

“Who would I be responsible to?”

“Us.  Me.  Through me, I suppose.”  The Emperor looked around the room and like Varnel, saw no opposition.  “It would have to be worked out, of course.  The idea is too new and we’ve not had the time to decide on everything, but you’ll have total control – almost total, I would think, as long as our needs are met.”

“I see.”

“It’s a chance of a lifetime,” Linden said.  “A chance of several lifetimes, actually.  Think of the possibilities.”

Oh, I am, I am, Varnel told himself.  His mind was ablaze with the possibilities.  Everything he had ever thought he wanted could actually be his.