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New Buckingham Palace, London
Empress Veruca Salt…or rather her first duplicate, replacing the original that had been murdered yesterday…was having an absolutely delightful dream when she first became aware of a tapping sound in the background of her subconscious. Ignoring it, she fought to stay asleep; only the insistent tapping continued in short, regular bursts. Eventually, the Empress could fight it no longer and awoke. It was still early, light just now seeping through the curtains…this was why she preferred her country estate, where the servants knew better than to trouble her for every little thing. But, of course, she had been compelled to return to London after the army had brought in the man they had spent the last decade searching for…and now she was paying the price for it. She pulled a pillow over her head, hoping that whoever was knocking at her door would finally decide it was not worth the trouble and go away. But the knocking continued, now increasing in volume…Veruca threw several objects of increasing size and weight at the door, but even that did not dissuade whoever was in the corridor outside. Finally, she leapt out of bed, flounced across the room in an absolute fury, and threw open the door. "WHAT?!"
The messenger quailed for an instant and then quickly started to explain himself, his voice rapid and excited. He was a young and enthusiastic soldier, clearly a new recruit to the Palace Guard, and…now that Veruca looked at him properly…handsome in a boyish way. She was just contemplating what he might look like undressed when a select phrase caught her attention. "I'm sorry," she said sweetly, "what was that?"
"I said that Mr. Black has requested an audience immediately, Your Majesty, due to an urgent matter of national security."
Veruca sighed. "Very well." She emerged fully from her chamber and closed the door, smiling at the young man. "Lead on, sir knight."
In spite of himself, the soldier's eyes flicked up and down Veruca's body…not because of what she looked like, but because she was wearing nothing but a silk nightgown. "Are…are you going in that, My Lady?"
Veruca dropped her chin coquettishly, her eyes widening in innocence. "Shouldn't I?" The guard shrugged and led the way, finally stopping at the door to the video conferencing room.
"In here, please, Your Majesty."
He opened the door, and Veruca gave him her best smile. "Wait here for me, will you? I hate walking around this place by myself."
Forgetting all formality, the soldier blushed and grinned. "Of course, Your Highness."
Veruca entered the dark room and took a seat at one end of an enormous oval-shaped table; the room was the size of a small cinema, with three screens placed in a wraparound arrangement at the far end of the room. All three were lit, each showing a different individual from roughly the waist up. The center screen was occupied by the impassive Mr. Black, head of intelligence…whose real name was never spoken…a muscular man in a dark suit, his face scarred from the grenade explosion that had cost him one of his eyes. The replacement was a robotic implant, a glaring red lens that seemed to burn with some internal fire. A more natural replacement had been available, but Mr. Black liked his eye the way it was. The left screen showed Mike Teavee, Minister of Information, a pale, gaunt figure with thinning hair and a gaze that seemed capable of penetrating steel. His height was not evident on the screen, but in person he was slightly over seven feet tall, the result of a run-in with a Wonka Company taffy puller in his youth. He was dressed, as ever, in a monastic black tunic and wire-rimmed spectacles. This left only General Augustus Gloop, who occupied nearly the entirety of the right screen without a bit of background to spare. To say that he was fat would be an understatement…only the top button of his dress uniform was actually fastened under his chin, everything below that a vast expanse of gray undershirt that hid his enormous belly. And even this was not entirely sufficient, for the lowest part of his stomach still stuck out. His blond hair, blue eyes, and pudgy cheeks created the impression of an enormously overgrown baby, an impression only furthered by the fact that he was too fat to walk on his own for any distance, instead using an enormous hoverchair to move around at his leisure.
With the Empress present, the council could begin. "Your Majesty," Mr. Black began, "I apologize for waking you, but we have a situation."
"That's quite all right," Veruca said, her tone making it evident that it would be all right only if Mr. Black had something of astounding magnitude to say.
The intelligence chief smiled slightly, rising to the challenge. "Just after oh-two-hundred hours this morning, a vehicle of unknown origin appeared directly over Chadworth Industries' new lunar development, overrunning the security perimeter less than thirty seconds after being detected. Chadworth security craft attempted to board the intruder, at which point it performed a series of evasive maneuvers, first using the lunar construction as cover before turning for Earth. While the pursuit vessels were forced to break off in the upper atmosphere, one of them…identified as Fox Niner Echo…managed to successfully tag the intruder with a smart missile just before losing contact with the target. The unidentified vessel subsequently entered an irregular reentry path and crashed 75 kilometers northwest of London."
The sour look on the Empress's face was unmistakable. "Mr. Black, while I usually appreciate your sense of humor, you're about ten seconds from death. Is this a joke?"
"Tell me yourself, Your Majesty." Unfazed by the threat, Mr. Black reached over and pressed a button, and his screen switched to show a high-resolution image of the ruined Deepstar Five, lying on her side in the swamp.
Veruca's peeved expression changed to one of stunned disbelief. "Before you continue…please tell me you're not going to say anything about aliens."
Mr. Black's face reappeared, even grimmer than it had been a moment before. "It might be better if I did. General Gloop, if you please."
"Ze craft is obviously of Earth origin," Gloop said, his strong Prussian accent moderated by his years in England. "Ze controls vere clearly designed vith humans in mind, though zey are much smaller." He paused, looking extremely uncomfortable…Veruca found herself wondering if it might be because of gas, and she nearly giggled at the thought. Gloop continued. "Zere can be little doubt…ze craft vos built for Oompa-Loompas. Everysing vos labeled clearly in both English and Loompanese. And zere vos one body aboard…" Gloop did something on his end and RP-46, still encased in his spacesuit, appeared on the screen. Gloop's troubled face reappeared after several seconds, but he said nothing further.
"What about the media?" Veruca asked, her eyes narrowing. "Something like this shouldn't be too difficult to explain away to the public, considering the Chadworth space program."
"Officially speaking, an experimental Chadworth spacecraft suffered a partial engine failure on reentry," Mike Teavee said calmly. "Which is actually the truth…save for the bit about it being a Chadworth creation."
"And you have no idea where this thing came from?" Veruca said.
"We're working on it," Mr. Black replied…which meant no.
"Resistance?"
"Unlikely," Mr. Black said skeptically, "whoever built this thing, it is extraordinarily advanced. It's being kept at the Chadworth Industries labs for the time being…I've just come from there, and I can authoritatively say that it's beyond the capabilities of the Resistance.
"But you don't know for sure."
Mr. Black paused for a moment. "No, we don't…though I am preparing to redirect the full efforts of the intelligence division to the matter. I assure you, Your Highness…"
"You will not reassign one man until after the execution. That's an order."
"Your Majesty, the rebels' commander is being held in one of the most secure facilities on Earth. I don't think that an escape is likely, not with only a week in which to plan it. Our security has been tripled. I give you my word the General cannot escape."
"One week is still a week too long. Every second that he is alive is a personal insult to myself and to every loyal subject of the British Empire! I am moving up the execution."
The subject of the conversation had changed, and now Gloop and Teavee were simply spectators. Black paused for a moment. "When did you have in mind, Your Majesty?"
Veruca smiled nastily. "Today. I want him hung at three o'clock on public television, and I want his body to have top billing on the evening news."
"Today? Your Highness, the General still needs to be interrogated! Battle plans, strategies…"
"I don't want information! You can capture all the other rebels you like and torture them as much as you wish! But he is the pin that holds the Resistance together! I don't care what he knows…we will find it out when we wring it from his subordinates! But I want him dead! Today!"
Even though his voice occasionally changed tone, Black's impassive face never altered its expression by more than the slightest of degrees. And this case was no different. He sat for a moment, considering, and then performed a respectful bow of his head. "Very well, Your Majesty. I shall send word. The arrangements will be ready by three."
"Very well," Veruca said imperiously. "Good day, gentlemen." The three screens flicked off, and the lights in the room slowly brightened. The Empress reached over to the intercom button. "I want Violet up here now."
"Yes, Your Highness," a voice said from the other end. Veruca sat back in her chair, even the short delay making her impatient. Now that she had ordered the General's execution, every second that passed before three o'clock seemed like an eternity. I want him dead. I want him dead and burned, his ashes tossed out like garbage. I don't want there to be a single trace left, no place where anyone can go to mourn his passing…
The door opened without introduction, breaking the Empress's chain of thought. Another woman entered the room, and her appearance was truly astonishing. Every bit of exposed skin was a deep, purplish blue…as was her close-cropped hair…the results of an encounter with a particular piece of Wonka chewing gum. Not that she had been able to chew gum in a long while…the woman's entire lower jaw was replaced by a heavy piece of rust-colored metal, a crude experimental prosthesis that she had never allowed replaced. She wished to remember her wound, and she considered any attempts to repair her ruined face a waste of time. That had been another piece of chewing gum, this one laced with plastic explosive…an assassination attempt that had very nearly succeeded. The woman stopped and stood at attention, her posture alert without being rigid. If someone had come through the door behind her, she could have killed them before they realized she had moved. Veruca smiled. "Violet, love, be a good girl and run along to the Tower, won't you? I want you there for the good General's end…make sure that nothing goes wrong." Her voice grew dangerous on the last few words.
The assassin respectfully bowed her head, her voice a grating electronic rasp generated by the speaker grille attached to her throat. "It will be my pleasure, My Lady."