The Barbarian Bride (The Decline and Fall of the Galactic Empire Book 3)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “It’s not like they can do much else with their lives,” Tiffany said, before she could stop herself. “Even if they all wanted jobs, General, where would they get them?”

  “They can at least stay quiet as we conscript them,” Thorne said. “It’s high time we started sending more Earthers out to the colonies.”

  “We don’t have the logistics,” Hammond snapped. “Our freighters are pushed to the limits already!”

  “And even if we did,” Tully said, “how would the colonies absorb a bunch of useless workers who don’t have the slightest idea how to survive?”

  “Whips and chains,” Thorne said. His face twisted into a leer. “The strong will survive and prosper, once all coddling is removed. As for the weak... let them die.”

  Tiffany felt sick. Thorne... was Thorne the one supplying the pills? The report had made it clear, more than once, that no sane doctor would prescribe such pills. And any doctor Marius asked could have supplied proper pills. Thorne, on the other hand, might benefit if Marius slowly became dependent on the drugs.

  “We can deal with that problem after the war,” Marius said. Tiffany was relieved to hear that he sounded almost like his old self. “For the moment, let us concentrate on preparing ourselves to meet Garibaldi and his traitors.”

  And, on that note, the meeting came to an end.

  Tiffany wanted to speak with Marius as the others left, but he swept out before she could say a word. She cursed under her breath, then headed back to their rooms. She needed time to think.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The perverse irony of the final war is that if more planets had been treated like Ruthven, if Emperor Marius had had more time to break down the former monopolies, the Outsiders would never have reached Boston. But then, if the Federation had approached the problem wisely, the war would never have begun in the first place.

  —The Federation Navy in Retrospect, 4199

  Ruthven, 4101

  Chang Li had thought herself used to a hostile crowd, but the stares from the locals as she was driven through the streets towards the Planetary Hall were far from pleasant, all the more so for being unforced. She’d tried to give speeches that were interrupted by hired rioters, men paid to disrupt her performance, yet here... the people watching her acted as though they were under occupation, their expressions sullen as they followed her car. It bothered her, more than she cared to admit; Ruthven, no matter how one looked at it, had had a pretty good decade. By boosting the planetary economy, Emperor Marius’s officers had done an excellent job of winning hearts and minds.

  She braced herself as the car drove through the gates and came to a halt in front of the Planetary Hall. The President — democratically elected, as far as the analysts could tell — was standing there to greet her. She climbed out of the vehicle, shook his hand firmly and allowed him to show her into the Planetary Hall. Ruthven’s government was democratically elected, at least in part, because the system knew that loyalty to the Federation would be rewarded. She couldn’t help wondering, as she walked up to the podium, just how many of the assemblymen facing her knew what it was like to grow up along the Rim.

  And they have three Asimov Points to play with, she thought. Who knows what they’ll become in a century, if they survive the war?

  “Thank you for allowing me to speak,” she said, once the President introduced her. It was sincerely meant, although she knew there was no way they would have barred her with Admiral Garibaldi controlling the high orbitals. “I won’t keep you long.

  “The Federation has been decaying for years. Authority and power were slipping towards Earth for centuries, even before the collapse of the Imperialist Faction. And, as the Grand Senate grew more powerful, it sucked the life out of the Rim even as it undermined the ideals of the Federation Navy. Admiral Justinian was merely the straw that broke the camel’s back.

  “You must see this, I think, from your own economic boom. It would not have taken place, I suspect, if the Grand Senate hadn’t been removed. But what took its place was, in many ways, far worse. Admiral Drake — Emperor Marius — is responsible for a whole string of crimes, up to and including attempted genocide. He came within minutes of ordering the antimatter bombardment of my homeworld. Nova Athena, a human world, would have died under his fire.

  “We — the Outsiders — believe that the system needs radical and fundamental reform,” she continued. It was impossible to gauge the effect of her speech on her sullen and suspicious audience, but she plunged on regardless. “The Federation was never really designed to handle the problems of half the galaxy, or trillions of humans. Indeed, the system was badly sullied from the start because it gave too many advantages to those who based themselves on Earth. Unsurprisingly, they made rules that worked in their own favor, and to hell with the rest of us.”

  A low titter ran through the room, but there was no other reaction.

  Li smiled. “We have a plan for reform, if you will join us,” she finished. “And if you want to be left alone, we can abandon your world once the war is over and the Federation has fallen. All we ask, now, is that your government stays out of the war.”

  It was a little more complex than that, she knew. The planetary industries would be used to support the war effort, but it would be very clear that the locals weren’t being offered a choice. Li had no idea just how far Admiral Drake had fallen from the man she remembered, yet she was sure he’d understand the problems facing the planetary government. They were, after all, powerless to keep the Outsiders from reducing their planet to rubble.

  “Thank you for your time,” she concluded. “Details of our plan have been uploaded onto the planetary datanet. If you want to discuss membership in our Federation, you are more than welcome to do so.”

  She nodded politely, then left the podium.

  * * *

  Uzi had been on more unfriendly worlds than he cared to count, ranging from planets caught in the grip of bitter civil wars to worlds that hated the Federation and would cheerfully set fire to the whole structure and piss on the ashes. And yet, there was something about Ruthven that perplexed him. The locals had to know they’d been lucky, that only a freak combination of events had kept them from being drained as dry as some of the worlds along the Rim... and that the destruction of the Grand Senate had powered their economic boom.

  And yet they view us with hatred, he thought, as he stood outside the spaceport gates and watched the small crowd of protesters on the other side of the road. The higher-ups hadn’t bothered to listen to his suggestions about shutting down road and rail traffic, even near the spaceport and the handful of other occupied facilities. What did we do to deserve it?

  He silently gathered information as he watched the protesters, knowing he’d have to make a report sooner or later. But how? He might be able to pass on a message when the fleet entered the Marble System — he’d done his best to ensure his unit would return to the ships when they departed — yet he knew it was a risk. It was quite possible that some records had survived the battle and that one of those records might contain a copy of the message he’d sent from Alexis. And then... the Outsiders would know they had a spy somewhere within their personnel. What would they do then?

  A shuttle screeched overhead, coming to a halt over the spaceport and slowly dropping to the ground. More reinforcements, Uzi hoped; they weren’t trying to hold the entire planet, but they barely had enough mobile firepower to cover the spaceport and the handful of other installations. It was amusing — and yet distressing — to realize that the Outsiders had started to develop the same "sensitivity" that had plagued some of the Federation’s more controversial operations, the reluctance to deploy too many troops because it might be "provocative," even though high troop numbers were often better at keeping a lid on trouble. The stupidest insurgent could still tell the difference between a hundred soldiers and a thousand... and calculate that fighting the former was easier than the latter. But then, he had to admit, the Outsiders had good reason
to be on their best behavior. Ruthven’s value wasn’t just measured in its location.

  They’ll be going to Marble next, he thought. The defenders have to know they’ll be coming under attack soon.

  He smiled at the thought. It was a logical assumption — and, indeed, the only way for the treacherous Admiral Garibaldi to win. Even in its weakened state, the Federation Navy possessed vastly more firepower than the Outsiders. Given time, Emperor Marius would assemble a fleet capable of kicking the Outsiders all the way back to Nova Athena — and there would be no traitors, this time, to keep the planetary population from getting what it deserved. No, Marble would be targeted next and then... and then, Tara Prime. But by the time the Outsiders reached that system, they would already be worn down.

  “Outsiders out,” someone shouted. Others, moments later, took up the cry. “Outsiders out!”

  Uzi gritted his teeth as the shouting grew louder, as if someone had flipped a switch. He had a nasty feeling someone probably had. A handful of stay-behind units could cause some real trouble by splashing money around, even if they did nothing else. No doubt someone had bused the first set of protesters to the spaceport, just to see how the Outsiders would respond. And now, it wouldn’t take much for an incident that would spark off a massacre.

  And I have to stop it, he thought, ruefully. An... incident would help the Federation, but it would come at the cost of his career. And he needed to remain with the fleet. I don’t have a choice.

  He keyed his radio. “This is Uzi,” he said. The dispatcher would know who he was — and, more importantly, where he was. “I need reinforcements at the North Gate, now!”

  “Understood,” the dispatcher said. Another pair of shuttles screamed overhead, heading up to the fleet. Their passage seemed to drive the protesters wild with anger; they shouted and screamed at the shuttles, as if their bad temper could knock the craft out of the sky. “Do you require armored vehicles?”

  “Probably not,” Uzi said. “Try and get the planetary police out here.”

  He closed the connection and glanced at his men. The general confusion had seen him landed with command of ten new soldiers, rather than the squad he’d worked with from the moment he’d joined the Outsiders as a mercenary. They looked nervous, fingering their weapons as the howling mob grew louder. Even experienced soldiers feared mobs, Uzi knew from bitter experience; a mob could soak up machine gun fire and just keep coming, if it were mad enough to disregard its own safety.

  “Stand at the ready,” he ordered, “but I’ll have the hide of anyone who fires without a specific order.”

  He allowed his gaze to pass over them, then turned his attention back to the mob. Mobs were fickle things; they might shout themselves hoarse and do nothing else, or they might turn violent at any moment. A handful of protesters were already slipping out of the crowd, trying to sneak back into the city; clearly, he noted, they’d had enough of the prospect of sudden violence and death. But the remainder would be more focused on what they were doing.

  “This is Overlook,” a new voice said. “I’ve got a set of buses making their way off the ring road and heading to the spaceport.”

  “Keep them back,” Uzi said, cursing the planet’s government under his breath. If they’d bothered to install an automated traffic control system, those buses could have been redirected somewhere safer. Instead, they’d be on his position within minutes. “Do we have any word from the planetary police?”

  “They’re refusing to budge,” the dispatcher said. “Half their policemen have reported sick!”

  Uzi cursed, savagely. This was why planetary policemen couldn’t be trusted. They were too damn close to their populations to do what was necessary. As bad as the police would have been, his forces would be a great deal worse if they had to put down a riot. And he and his men were dangerously exposed.

  He gambled. “Open the gates,” he ordered. “Once they’re open, we’ll move through the gates and slam them closed. Let them howl themselves silly outside.”

  “Yes, sir,” the dispatcher said.

  Uzi gritted his teeth as he heard the gates opening behind him. Showing weakness to a baying mob was a dangerous move, but he didn’t have any non-lethal weaponry. Some bright spark on the fleet had probably reasoned that it wouldn’t be necessary, that the planetary police would provide all the support the fleet could possibly need. And, thanks to that idiot — who he would have regarded with complete satisfaction if he hadn’t been on the front lines — he and his men were about to be attacked.

  “Move,” he snapped. “And get those gates closed the moment the last of us is inside.”

  He turned and ran through the gates, hearing the sound of footsteps behind him as the mob lunged forward. The gates were already closing, but the mob slammed into them with staggering force. Uzi turned, motioning for his men to form a skirmish line, as the gates hissed closed. He had a brief glimpse of a young man — it was always the young men — being crushed by the gates before he fell out of sight. Uzi had seen enough mobs to know that the poor bastard was probably already dead.

  “If they push down the gates, open fire,” he ordered. He’d played the only card he could, but would it be enough? The gates were solid, yet he had a nasty feeling the mob would just keep pushing on them until something broke. “We can’t let them ransack the spaceport.”

  A thought struck him as another shuttle zoomed overhead. “Ask the pilot to make a low pass over the crowd,” he added, calling the dispatcher. “It might disperse the idiots.”

  He covered his ears as the shuttle reversed course and flew low, as low as the pilot dared. The sound was deafening, but did the trick; he watched, in relief, as the mob broke and ran. A handful of men and women were lying on the ground, moaning; they’d been injured in the crush and left to fend for themselves. A number of them looked dead.

  “Get the medics over here,” he ordered, wearily. Who knew what the mob would do? It might just continue to break up, scattering as its individual members made their way home, or it might reform and return to the spaceport. “See what they can do for the poor bastards.”

  He sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. They’d been promised reinforcements, troops raised in the Outsider worlds and dispatched through the captured Asimov Points, but he doubted they would arrive in time. The locals weren’t friendly, and that was the end of it, for the moment. And really, why was that a bad thing?

  Because you have to play a role, he reminded himself. There were times, he was sure, when it would be easier just to put the mask aside, once and for all. And because you have to stay in that role until you can act decisively.

  “Fifteen people injured, nine dead,” one of the medics called. “I’m moving the injured to the spaceport infirmary.”

  Uzi nodded. It might make more sense, from a logistical point of view, to transfer the injured and dead to a local hospital, but it would only inflame public opinion. Quite why the planetary government permitted such free discourse was beyond him, yet he had to admit it was working nicely for the stay-behind agents. Either the Outsiders took care of the wounded themselves, wasting some of their resources, or they risked sparking off a second set of riots.

  “Colonel Mooncalf is on his way,” the dispatcher said. “Once he arrives, you’re to report back to the shuttles.”

  “Understood,” Uzi said. Maybe the Outsiders wanted a scapegoat. He had been the person on the spot, if nothing else. “I’ll be on my way once he arrives.”

  * * *

  “So,” Li said. “Just what happened?”

  “According to the planetary police, a number of protesters tried to force the gates of the spaceport,” General Stuart said. “They were turned back when a quick-thinking officer had the presence of mind to order a shuttle to fly low over the crowd, driving them away from the spaceport. I believe the officer in question should be commended.”

  “Indeed,” Li said. She’d make sure of it, personally if necessary. A massacre would have given their ene
mies a propaganda bonanza. “And how did the protesters get there?”

  “The wounded say the protests were organized from start to finish,” General Stuart said. “I read their reports very carefully. They were paid to attend, forced to listen to long speeches on how we were going to take away their rights, and then herded into buses for the trip to the spaceport. The planetary police, so far, have turned up no leads. I suspect an enemy stay-behind force. Even a relative handful of people can cause some real trouble.”

  Li nodded. “Is there anything we can do about it?”

  “Probably not,” General Stuart said. “I’ve ordered the deployment of riot-control gear to the spaceport, but our troops aren’t really trained in handling riots. We assumed an opposed landing, not... not a riot on the surface.”

  “Then we’ll just have to hope matters remain peaceful,” Li said. She scowled. She’d had some interest in joining the Outsiders from the planetary government, but it would be lost if their population turned on them. “Do you have anything to add?”

  “Merely that you need better bodyguards,” General Stuart said. “The stay-behinds would definitely risk life and limb to get at you — and you’re down here, protected by the planetary police.”

  “They take their jobs seriously,” Li protested.

  “But they’re also caught in the middle,” General Stuart warned. “I think — I really think — that you need some additional bodyguards attached to you. They’ll stay out of your way...”

  “Hah,” Li said. She hadn’t forgotten what the last set of bodyguards had done, even though they’d meant well. But General Stuart was right. Ruthven had yet to decide which side it was on. “If you feel it’s necessary, General, see to it. But I have no intention of treating this planet as hostile terrain.”

  “There were collaborators even on the worst planets along the Rim,” General Stuart reminded her. “People who somehow benefited from kissing the Grand Senate’s ass. And here... well, I wouldn’t be surprised to discover there’s an Emperor Marius Fan Club. I want to make sure you’re well-protected for the remainder of your stay here.”