The bronze figure with the trident saluted as they left harbour.
Crispin acknowledged the salute and turned to Tom.
'Father says you are a member of the chancellor's special task force.'
'Yes. I'm planning the invasion of my old realm.'
'Father says you have been given full access to Big Brain. I assume you want to come out here so we can hack into it.'
That was the sort of thing Tom wanted to hear. The young prince had stopped talking nonsense and was starting to talk about things that really mattered. Big Brain was the guardians' master computer and it controlled everything from national security to the flush systems for the palace toilets.
'Big Brain has serious issues, Crispin.'
'What have you discovered?'
'It's rat shit.'
'Rat what?'
'Shit.'
'I don't get it.'
'It's crapped out, Crispin.'
'Sorry. I don't understand military terms.'
'Big Brain is functionally obsolete.'
'Oh. Is that what it means?'
'Yes. It's stuffed.'
'Stuffed?'
Tom tried again. 'The guardians have reached the end of the line. Their elaborate system of computers, trolls and surrogates might have worked once but nothing has been done to it for hundreds of years. One good push and the whole crud lot will come tumbling down.'
Crispin's face lit up. Tom concluded that he had at last got his message across. The young prince clearly had a very narrow vocabulary, which was probably an aspect of his very narrow upbringing. He resolved to stick to purely technical terms.
'Does that compute?'
'It does, Professor. I've been telling Liala that for years. The guardians haven't invented anything since The Fall. They don't like new ideas. That's why I use the dolphin tablet to send messages. The idiots wouldn't understand how it works even if I tried to explain it to them.'
'They know about the dolphin tablet,' Tom said.
Crispin's face dropped. 'Did they find out through Gerald?'
'Yes.'
'What do they think of it?'
'Childish nonsense. They think your entire marine science program is childish nonsense. They let you do it for the propaganda value. The people love their royal family and they love those TV-documentaries you and Liala make.'
Crispin reduced speed and changed course. The boat had reached a point in line with the island and the huge complex of buildings that housed the palace's central communications system.
'Is this where you want us to be?'
'This will do fine.'
Tom produced a microchip from his gown.
'Just cruise around as if we are admiring the view. Big Brain will note our position and do all the usual checks. That should keep the silly sods happy and stop the alarm bells from ringing. In the meantime we'll be screwing them.'