Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

fell into their usual protective shield about her, their cybernetic systems constantly on the alert for any threat or sign of disrespect. They were her bodyguards as well as her attendants, and waking or sleeping they never left her side.
    Outside her boudoir, a crowd of people filled the corridor, desperate as always for her attention. Clerks, military attaches, lobbyists of all creeds and persuasions, all wanting answers and decisions for things that could not go forward without the Imperial nod. They swarmed around her in a babble of voices as Lionstone strode down the corridor. The maids kept them from getting too close. No matter how desperate the importuners were, they all had enough sense
    not to upset the maids. The Empress seemed to be ignoring the crush, but every now and then she'd pick a face out of the crowd and snap yes or no or later.
    Anything really important would come through the proper channels, but the proper channels could be… diverted, one way or the other, by someone with enough credit or influence. Lionstone believed in being up to the moment.
    They finally reached the private elevator at the end of the corridor, and Lionstone waved the crowd away. Most of them fell back immediately; the few who didn't react quickly enough almost fell over themselves backing away as the maids turned their unwavering gaze on them. Lionstone glared at the closed elevator doors as she waited for it to arrive. She was on the verge of being late for her own audience, and that would never do. No one would say anything, of course; if she chose to be late, that was her business, and no one would have the temerity to disapprove. But the word would start quietly in certain quarters that just possibly the Empress was slipping, growing lax, and the kind of people who had assassins on their payroll would lick their lips in anticipation.
    A delicate chime interrupted her thoughts as the elevator arrived and the doors slid open. The maids checked it out with their augmented senses, decided reluctantly that it hadn't been tampered with, and allowed the Empress to join them inside the elevator. The doors slid shut on the bowing heads of the crowd in the corridor, and the elevator rose rapidly from the heart of the bunker to the outer levels where court business was transacted. Lionstone XIV smiled slowly, and if the courtiers waiting for her to arrive could have seen that smile, they would have found sudden pressing reasons to he somewhere else that day.
    The only way to reach the court chambers from anywhere else on Golgotha was by
    underground trains controlled directly by palace computers. The trains were prompt, comfortable and guaranteed accident free, but still no one liked using them. People of importance were not used to or happy about giving up control over their personal security, but in this, as in so many other things where the Empress was concerned, they had no choice. Her security came first. Always. As a result, everyone setting foot in a palace-controlled train did so knowing that they were literally putting their lives in the Empress' hands. Lionstone sometimes used the trains as a simple means of dealing with those who had gained her displeasure. At a silent command from the palace computers, the train would stop, the doors would lock, steel shutters would slide over the windows and a lethal gas would fill the carriage from end to end. The gas jets weren't even hidden.
    The Lord Jacob Wolfe glowered at the jets, and then looked away. They were old news, and he had more pressing concerns on his mind. The Empress" summons to court had been abrupt and uninformative, even for her, with barely an hour's warning, which meant that whatever had caught her attention was urgent as well as important. It could be that she'd found another traitor, someone sufficiently high up that she wanted the whole court present while she interrogated and executed him as a message to any who might be wavering. Lionstone was a great believer in making examples and putting her point forcefully. And there were always traitors. Some days attending court was like playing Russian roulette when you didn't know how many bullets were left in the gun.
    Besides, if it had been anyone important, he'd have heard something before now.
    The Wolfe had good contacts at all levels. Every Lord did, if they wanted to stay a Lord.
    It wasn't necessary to attend court in person; you could always send your holo
    image. Current technology allowed the elite