by Blaze Ward
Plus, Pops had sent along a note indicating that he hadn’t been paid a licensing fee when they built Robert Fitzwalter. That might make it a government-level issue at some point if she wanted to get pissy. And she had a great deal of leverage if push came to shove.
“Captain Henderson,” she nodded as he stepped about as close as her apparent mood suggested was safe.
“Your Majesty,” he replied carefully with a half-bow.
Neither of them were drinking, in spite of the wide availability of options. She never drank anything except bottles Marcelle provided in situations like this.
The welcoming ceremonies were done. Most of the man’s officers were still around, but right now everyone was studiously ignoring the scene, except for Kari Larionov and Marcelle.
“How soon will your vessel be ready to return with me to the front?” Jessica asked.
“We’re fully stocked now, sir,” Henderson said. “My freighter can either sail with us in forty hours, or join us later. Nobody was sure what your schedule would be like, so I’ve tried to keep my crew ready to go.”
“Very good,” she inclined her body just enough to suggest a bow. “We just unleashed a major raid on Severnaya Zemlya that will probably have repercussions throughout The Holding. Part of the fleet needs downtime and repair, but I want to return with the other half. That includes Robert Fitzwalter. Qin Lun will remain behind with Valiant.”
He obviously wanted to ask something, but refrained.
Jessica probably wouldn’t have bitten his head off. None of that situation had been his fault. She just had an angry spot in her soul for Lincolnshire’s government, and he was here.
“The Holding?” he asked instead.
“Buran’s name for its nation, Henderson,” she said. “Also, occasionally the Protectorate of Man. What we’re fighting.”
“I see,” he settled on neutral ground. “How can I best serve, Admiral?”
“Tell me what you bring to the table, Captain,” she replied, noting the bubble of space that had opened around them.
It was bigger than the one around Galen, but only a little.
“Iorwerth Nakamura designed the vessel, Admiral,” he began.
“Yes,” Jessica snapped a little peevishly. “Pops sent me a note about that. Hopefully someone will have cut him a check by the time we get back to that end of the galaxy.”
Give the man credit, he did blush at that, so maybe he knew a little more than he had been letting on.
“We have well-rounded offensive capabilities, Admiral Keller,” Henderson picked up his narrative with only a little hiccup. “Engaging fighters was our original design, but the ship will do well when engaging Buran’s vessels. We do not mount any Type-4’s and the Primaries were determined to be too expensive, especially as Robert Fitzwalter was going to be serving on this frontier, at least initially.”
“But you have plans to swap it out later?” she pressed.
“Indeed, Admiral,” he agreed. “The weapons deck on the crossbeam is entirely modular. Our biggest limiting factor is generally power, rather than space.”
“And fragility,” she added.
“Less so than one would expect,” he countered with the first hint of emotion under the professionalism. “We built the crossbeam first and then built each of the outer hulls by moving everything in place, rather than just welding two ships together. We’ll survive more damage than one might expect. Far more than even the new Kali-ma, I think.”
“Good enough,” Jessica said. “Tell me about your crews.”
“Veterans of other vessels, with a solid leavening of retired Aquitaine Navy folks offered promotions and signing bonuses to help train the younger generation,” he said. “Most of the engineers served with Aquitaine’s First Fleet or War Fleet earlier.”
“And you’re here to serve?” she pressed.
Perhaps she could be mollified. Someone had warned this man to arrive prepared. Hadn’t been Galen. Uly’s nephew would have enjoyed watching the man’s discomfort. And Pops still had an axe to grind.
She briefly wondered if the threats of mayhem on the man had originated with Petia or Emmerich. One of the two of them, if not both.
“Oh, and we do have a pair of missile tubes,” he added. “Standard load of missiles, with no reloads, so I’m not sure if we should offload them here and replace with other supplies.”
“We’ll keep them for now,” Jessica decided. “At Severnaya, having a missile cruiser or two would have made a world of difference.”
“Why?” he was suddenly at a loss. “I thought they could jump away from everything we threw at them.”
“Bases can’t jump, Henderson,” she smiled like a predator at him. “After we destroyed his fleet, I moved on and crushed several stations. The main command base surrendered to evacuation.”
“Okay,” he said, shocked. “We’ll do what we can.”
“Of that, I have no doubt,” Jessica nodded.
Chapter XLIV
Imperial Founding: 181/01/25. Imperial Hall of Government, Strasbourg, St. Legier
It wasn’t often that Casey traveled to meet Torsten in Strasbourg, but the new buildings were going up as fast as workers could shell them in and make them habitable. The arrival of 23nd Ladaux Construction Legion had shaved at least a year off the task, being a dedicated organization that didn’t need to be paid on a weekly basis, at least for the first year.
Imperial finances would be better organized by summer.
And Casey could see moving closer to this location soon, allowing Mejico to become a complete mess of construction in turn. She still hadn’t decided if she should level the old hotel and replace it with a palace, or leave the entire thing as a museum for the people to be able to see how they had lived in that first year.
But that wasn’t why Torsten had asked her to come to his offices. The paperwork a courier had delivered two days ago made it abundantly clear that Torsten was about to reach one of those milestones in the Reconstruction of Empire.
Her Empire. Her future.
She followed four of her regular guards into the new Imperial Hall of Government, itself three quarters done at present, as most of it was just an office tower with the top yet to be finished. The air outside had been chill and windy, promising snow in a few hours, while the interior was dry and bright. Marble floors slapped under her leather soles as she walked amidst eight silent men in combat boots.
The foyer was grand and impressive, as befit the administrative seat of government. The pomp would be in the new palace, when it was complete, and the parade ground out front that was going to be turned into a market arcade for small shops and food trucks to serve tourists.
Through an inner door, she was into a much less inspiring hallway. Industrial carpet in lasting brown. White walls. Light strips overhead.
At some point, she hoped they added plants in pots, at the time when art finally went up to cover some of the blank, white walls. Perhaps she needed to craft an Imperial Decree to that effect. Torsten might be so focused on keeping the gears together that he forgot the need for beauty.
And she missed the ancient, nearly-feral roses that had colonized the rear of the original palace grounds. Freya had Casey’s only painting of them that had survived, hanging in her salon back on Eklionstic.
Through another door in the wake of her guards, and into a smaller meeting space. Torsten was there, along with several of his assistants she knew by face and name, but who rarely spoke unless they needed to answer a specific question.
Two other men at the conference table also stood when she entered.
She took her seat at the end opposite Torsten quickly and gestured the rest to sit as well.
On her right, the younger of the two strangers. She had read his file and had approved of the task he would inherit. Willem Lorenz, prospective First Deputy of a new Hall of Justice. He was a tall man without bulk. Lanky but probably only a few centimeters taller than Em. Short, brown hair that was just g
raying at the temples, giving him the appearance of a hawk. The muted, brown suit he wore only accentuated the comparison. Intense, hazel eyes reminded her of someone else.
She turned to the other man for a moment. Adolphus Gulan. Older, in his seventh decade and previously retired after a stellar career as a civilian in her father’s and grandfather’s governments. Gray, heavy, and soft, until his eyes lit up, and he reminded her of the man across from him. He would return to the harness as First Deputy of the Hall of Law, if this all went well today.
Intensity glowed from all three men, as Torsten had it going, too.
She chose to start the conversation in the middle. If they knew what they were doing, they would follow. If not, they might not be the men she needed for the job.
“You both understand that Imperial Security is, in my eyes, hopelessly compromised, yes?” she said, turning to catch both of them nodding. “Emmerich zu Wachturm was previously working closely with my father’s government to weed out the bad players in order to salvage as much of the organization as they could.”
Both nodded, silently observing. Quiet men were needed for the task, so that was a positive sign.
“The destruction of Werder did not destroy many paper files,” Casey continued. “Those were always duplicated elsewhere. What I lost was the knowledge contained silently in heads. The lifetimes of experience that didn’t always make it onto paper, suggesting which players were clean and which could not be trusted. I have no confidence in Imperial Security without that, so we are not going to try.”
Firm faces, giving nothing away. Good.
“Torsten?” she ceded the conversation to him.
Both of the other men turned in unison to watch the Chief Deputy. The man who would be their immediate boss, perhaps.
“Over the last century, Imperial Security changed its internal mission,” Torsten said casually, belying the anger she knew he privately held on the topic. “Under Karl V, the Charter of Man was a call for legal restrictions on the powers of the noble class, and specifically the Emperor himself. Protection for the commoners, like myself.”
She liked that last touch. Of the four people seated, she was of the old nobility. Gulan was the younger son of a Freiherr, and had been made one himself in reward for his service. Lorenz and Wald were of that enormous middle class that was the bulk and backbone of the Empire. Educated and generally supportive, but not necessarily reaping the benefits of aristocracy, except when a career of service brought a title as a reward, such as Gulan’s.
Casey still wasn’t sure how to change that. Or if she even wanted to. Aquitaine made do without the titles, but the money and power was still mostly allocated to the Fifty Families. Marriage into one of those clans was the best entry point, but they saw themselves as the cultural and social backbone of the Republic.
Different words, similar results. Perhaps Aquitaine could be a model there, as well, if she started recognizing wealth with Imperial favors, but not titles? A new thing? Lifetime titles, perhaps, but not inheritance?
Food for thought. Later, after this hurdle was overcome.
“In time,” Torsten continued, “Imperial Security became an internal enforcement arm of the government, rather than purely a surveillance operation. Their new form was designed to largely do two things. First: provide some balance against the supreme power of the Fleet. Second: root out rebels and revolutionaries who were willing to do more than just talk about the Charter.”
“Fribourg has always been a naval entity, in its own mind,” Casey interrupted. “Power was always with the Admirals, but only those who were also Princes of the Blood. That must change, going forward, as there will not be enough such men and women we trust for decades.”
Still, the two men remained silent and attentive. Around the outside wall, aides took notes, and several were recording this against future need. It would never be officially released, but the concepts needed to be out in the open and clear.
“Just so,” Torsten picked up the thread. To Casey, it was like a stage play, where two practiced actors shared lines back and forth without seams. “The coup six years ago was a conspiracy of Imperial Security and disaffected nobles in the Royal House, upset that Jessica Keller was going to be rewarded for thwarting the supposed natural expansion of the Empire to destroy and absorb Aquitaine. They did not welcome the peace treaty, and would have probably given Buran another generation to expand and reinforce their positions, before the Empire awoke to the threat. Children alive today would have probably died under Buran’s yoke.”
Casey shuddered with the rest of the room at the thought. Torsten was an econometricist, a man of numbers and trends. He had predicted it. His paper had gone a long way towards convincing Father to support the treaty.
Slow failure was the alternative. Might still be, but the odds had hopefully tilted in Casey’s favor.
“So Imperial Security is to be dismantled?” Lorenz asked, turning to stare at Torsten, probably lest Casey take offense at the blunt tone. It was an honest question, just not necessarily a polite one. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” Torsten agreed harshly. “The edifice is rotten, and our time is short. In its place, the Hall of Justice and the Hall of Law will arise. Justice will concern itself with law enforcement. Investigations of all types, including many of those currently undertaken by Imperial Security. However, prosecution will rest with the Hall of Law. Justice will present the case. Law will try it in the Courts, and then be responsible for adjudicating the chosen punishments.”
“What is to prevent the same dark cabals from forming?” Gulan asked. His face was turned towards Casey, which was telling. The last such cabal had nearly undone her.
“Sunlight,” she replied harshly. “Imperial Security was judge, jury, and executioner of anyone they felt was a threat, to whatever they felt needed protecting. Now Justice can arrest someone, but they must make the case public so Law can try them. And both organizations will have strong Inspectorates that answer directly to my government, in the form of the Chief Deputy, and not to you.”
“Hamstringing us?” Lorenz turned now to face her.
“I am fine with the so-called wheels of justice turning slowly,” she said. “As long as they turn inexorably. We are not enacting the Charter of Man, but that does not mean that the common classes should not have rights that in turn need to be protected. My reign will rest more on their willingness to support it than on the Dukes who may have qualms about a woman. There will be no more assassin squads hunting revolutionaries. No more midnight knocks disappearing someone forever as a terror weapon. If that is what it takes to survive, then this government has already failed, and deserves to be swept aside. The fabric of our Empire has been ruptured, and that cannot just be ignored. It must be sewn over and protected against further damage.”
“And you believe we two represent the best tools to effect that change?” Gulan pressed.
“You retired at the highest civil service rank the government has, Sri Gulan,” Torsten said. “Only three steps below where you would be tomorrow, if you accept this charge. Sri Lorenz is a career cop who has made a name as a protector of the people and the laws. Both of you have white hands, and trust me, I went very deep into a number of people’s backgrounds to cull the list down. Any shadows or unresolved questions were sufficient to disqualify any candidate. There must be no fears or questions on the part of your superiors, nor of your Halls.”
“I require you to root out the bad apples, gentlemen,” Casey said with force verging on showing the anger in her heart. “Cast them from the body politic now. We can always decide later to prosecute, or just ignore them. They can live out their days waiting for their own midnight knock, and I’m fine with that.”
“What about espionage?” Lorenz asked now. “We have spies in our midst, as well as disaffected children.”
She liked the way the man classified them. Many of those agitating for the Charter of Man were children. Folks not much younger than
her, still in their awakening phase and wanting to make the Empire a better place. Before they learned that the ship of state was a beast of a trillion lives and must be turned in generational orbits, rather than days.
“Being an unregistered foreign agent is a crime, First Deputy of Justice,” she replied. “I expect you to locate them and unravel their networks. I expect First Deputy Gulan to see them punished appropriately.”
“Unregistered foreign agent?” his voice drifted off and his eyes shifted to look at Torsten.
“I am actually registered, First Deputy,” Torsten’s smile was at once warm and triumphant. “I am an Imperial Citizen who is engaged to a Republic Citizen, and I will eventually emigrate to Corynthe, once Her Majesty is done with me.”
“And you want them only rooted out, for now?” Gulan asked carefully.
“Reconciliation will come from uncovering the truth, First Deputy Gulan,” Casey said. “I want them removed from my government immediately, while the four of us determine, with the aid of your departments, if more should be done. Many were following what were legitimate orders, yesterday. I am changing the ethics of governance, but that is tomorrow. Things that might not have met those current standards, but are in the past, will be laid to rest. New infractions will be punished severely. And some of these men will be sanctioned, even for things long thought forgotten. At least those men who are not beyond my justice. God himself will see to the rest.”
They both nodded to her, to Torsten, and to each other. The structure would set them up as rivals, but not necessarily enemies. Checks on one another’s reach and threat.
A change in the way of things, but it would not result in the Charter of Man in her lifetime. Perhaps her children’s, if she managed to save the Empire from itself.
