“what’s that? resign? nonsense, minister, you know you can’t let us down like that. you are doing as splendid a job as ever. the empire needs you more than ever, the empress needs you more than ever.”
bradford shook his head. “i am sorry, but i have made up my mind. you have known me for years, fenwood, and you know i never say anything unless i am absolutely sure of what i am saying.”
“but,” fenwood stammered, “with the alignment offensive coming up - this is no time for a new ministry to be taking office!”
“there have been alignment offensives before,” bradford replied placidly, “and - unfortunately - there will be alignment offensives in the future. and i have grown weary of them. the galaxies align, the galaxies get out of alignment, they align again , new offensives are planned and launched. and nothing changes. except that we get beaten back a little more every time.”
“that is all very well,” fernwood replied. “but - why now? i, for one, think your new proposed strategy quite brilliant. simple, but brilliant."
bradford laughed. "it is simple because i have run out of ideas. as for ‘no time for a new ministry to be taking over’, who can say at this point? after all, i have been minister of war for forty-one years now.”
“indeed you have. it seems like only yesterday that you took office. and with such high hopes!” fenwood sighed.
“high hopes! i think not, my dear fernwood. in case you have forgotten those terrible times, let me refresh your memory…
the empire lay prostrate, convulsed on every side with rebellion. not rebellion from the races subjugated in humanity’s triumphant sweep through the universe, but rebellion by its own children.
its own children, the very machines that had served it so well in its glory days.
and which now rose up against it, smashing, looting, obliterating…. and mocking.
in an organized manner which revealed a common purpose, or overmind, which had never been suspected.
an overmind whose exact nature the poor human race has not fully fathomed to this day…
as the apocalypse burst around us, a few human heroes came forth…. brady… canby… names which bring a tear to the eye and a swelling to the heart even now.
inspired by these heroes, some of us resolved to dedicate our lives to the defense of the human race, in however humble a capacity.
for forty some years now i have sat in harness at this desk, in my appointed capacity as minister of war, trying to control and harness the flood of information, and make do with the paucity of resources at the besieged empire’s disposal.
there were flickers of hope, in the early days, but these flickers have faded to a single dull ember, an ember which grows fainter with each new desperate so-called offensive, each more pathetically doomed than the last.”
the minister of war looked down at his desk and fell silent.
“but look here, old fellow, a few weeks rest, perhaps…” fernwood began.
“no more. stand aside, please. i have requested an audience with the empress. and as you know,” bradford smiled. “i have a reputation for punctuality.”
*
fernwood watched bradford disappear down the corridor, headed for the elevator to the empress’s suite.
he hastened away in the opposite direction, to the office of the minister of information. as he did, he sent a message to the commanders of the fleet and the army.
*
“i am sorry to hear that,” the empress told bradford. “but i am not completely surprised. you have served me well, bradford, but, then, all things must come to an end.”
bradford nodded. “i am honored to have served.”
“and in return,” the empress continued, “i have kept your terrible secret.”
“for which i thank you. if i may presume, i was wondering… i was wondering if you will continue to keep the secret.”
“why, i suppose i will. if i can. i can not promise anything.”
“i understand.”
*
commander williams of the fleet put his fingertips together and considered fernwood’s information.
“who knows?” he asked. “it may be for the best.”
“but right now?,” asked general mason. “later perhaps, after the offensive is over, but right now it might throw a bit of sand in the gears.”
“perhaps,” commander williams agreed. “how about you, jaspers?” he asked the minister of information. “ any ideas?”
“yes, i have an idea.”
*
when bradford returned to his office, he found a young woman - or more likely, a simulacrum or replica of a young woman - waiting outside his door.
whether she was a real human or not, she was the youngest specimen of “humanity” he had seen in about thirty years.
bradford could only guess at her real or simulated “age”. fifteen? twenty-two? thirty? it had been so long since he had seen such a creature. he did register that she was wearing a short skirt of the type he vaguely remembered as “schoolgirl”.
now the creature put her finger in her mouth. “aren’t you going to invite me in, daddy?”
daddy? what did that mean?
“i am afraid i am rather busy now,” bradford told her. he smiled gently. “i have a war to win, you know.”
“awwww! don’t be that way, daddy!”
of course, bradford suddenly realized, this is all fernwood’s doing, he and his cronies in the other ministries. to what purpose? what it just their sad idea of a joke?
“i do want so much to get to know you!” the young woman continued..
bradford looked up and down the corridor. he did not want to cause a scene.
*
fernwood looked down at bradford’s body.
“this could hardly have ended worse,” he sighed, with a meaningful glance at commander williams.
“indeed,” williams agreed. “but at least he died with his boots on, as he had always wished.”
a doctor was kneeling down over the body, and a couple of technicians were examining and photoing the deceased minister’s sparsely furnished office.
the schoolgirl was flopped lifelessly in the office’s only chair. one of the technicians pointed to it.
“what shall we so with this, sir?” he asked fernwood.
“eh? do what you will with it. i suppose you will need it as evidence of some kind. after that, dismantle it, or revive it, or do whatever you please with it.”
“by god!” the doctor suddenly exclaimed.
fernwood and commander williams looked down.
“look here!” the doctor pointed to the wrist of the deceased. a thin metal rod was protruding from it.
both men grasped the significance immediately. commander williams recovered first.
“i am sure it is nothing, doctor. just some sort of medical implant. why, i am sure you as a doctor would be the first to recognize - “
the doctor did not answer, but contunued examining the body.
“not a bit of it, sir,” the doctor looked up. “i have sounded the whole body. it’s a rum business, to be sure, but the whole underlying structure is metal - including the brain.”
the full significance began to sink in.
bradford, who had served for forty-one years as minister of war in the endless war against the machines - was himself a machine!
fernwood was stunned. but he had no time to stand there with his mouth open and dwell on the implications of the shocking discovery..
the office of minister of war was now open, and he had to call in his markers.
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