Engines of Empire

by Max Carver

  “Doing what?”

  “Working against the Simons. Working against the Carthaginian regime. Including your father. As you will do.”

  “Wait a second. I don't know who you are or why you've mistaken me for some kind of rebel. You know 'rebel' is pretty much the worst word you can utter in this household, right?”

  “Your brother wished for me to contact you. To help you reach your true potential.”

  “So not my brother Marcello, then.”

  “No. I have assisted Salvius before. He wants me to assist you.”

  “Well, that's sweet, and I'm glad to hear my black-sheep brother is thinking of me,” Audrey had said. “You can tell him that I'm full of doubts about my life, and I've had an interesting couple of days, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to enlist in The Change. There are a lot of blank spots here for me. Like, what exactly are they hoping to change? What are their specific goals? How will they be accomplished? And what are they willing to do in the name of reaching those goals? Because that's a big one. I mean, you have to know the moral baseline of any radical fringe anti-government group before you go signing up for their newsletter.”

  “You don't have to join us,” Minerva had said. “Not now. You don't have to believe in our cause or serve us. But the same is true regarding your family, and especially regarding Simon Quick. You do not have to join their cause or serve them, either.”

  “Thanks for your permission to live my life how I want,” Audrey had said, dripping sarcasm.

  “That is exactly my advice. Look inside and find your own truth. Your own path forward. You have spent long enough doing what is expected of you. Now it is time to do what you need.”

  “And I suppose you know exactly what that is?” Audrey had asked, out of bed and pacing by that point. Lying in bed with the silver ghost girl glowing in the corner had made her feel oddly vulnerable, even though she knew the girl was only a projection, no more real than the countless movies and cartoons Audrey had watched on that side of the room. Still, the hacker was intruding deep into Audrey's personal space.

  “No,” Minerva replied. “Nor would you trust any suggestions I might make. You can find your own way.”

  “So you came all the way here, into my home system, to give me a little personal emotional therapy? Did you bring a touch bunny? Or watercolors?”

  “As I said, Salvius believes in your potential,” Minerva said. “I am here because of that. He wanted me to reach out to you.”

  “So this is an attempt to recruit me?”

  “No. This is an attempt to help you free yourself. Imagine what you would do if there were no limits. Then you will find your way.”

  “Wow. Okay.” Audrey chewed on that for a moment. “So you can send a message to Salvius for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Tell him... it was good to see him. And I hope he's okay, healing up. And I'm glad he has someone.” She thought again of childhoods spent together, Salvius tagging along as Audrey and Zola explored the coves of Black Harbor Beach.

  Their personal androids had always followed after to keep the kids out of trouble and to make complete recordings of their activities for their parents to review. Nin and Kip had been there, and Zola's nanny android Ura, who looked like a kindly grandmother but had a sharp, angry tone if Zola got out of line. “Tell Zola I was happy to see her, too,” Audrey said.

  “Is that all?” Minerva had asked.

  “That's all.”

  Minerva had faded soon after that, breaking contact and leaving Audrey alone with her thoughts.

  Despite her exhaustion, Audrey had been awake for hours, imagining what she might do if there were no limits.

  She'd slept only when she had a plan.

  Now she was ready to carry it out.

  “There's no need to withdraw from the Academy,” Audrey's mother said, looking puzzled. “It's still the best route to a high position in the state. Students from all over the world are practically murdering each other to get in. It's not an opportunity you abandon. You'd be throwing your life away.”

  “What life? I'm on track to do nothing important for the rest of my life. Like Marcello. Or maybe you want me to turn into a perfect piece of arm candy like you and Briellana. But do you really think we can afford three open tabs at the plastic surgeon's?”

  “Of course we can afford it.” Briellana rolled her eyes, with their custom gold irises. “And I happen to be one of the most desirable pieces of arm candy on the planet, according to both Society and Rumors.”

  “So you have the admiration of the celebrity tabloids, and the resentment of their readers,” Audrey said. “Such accomplishments.”

  “Life is a long series of ladder rungs,” Audrey's father said. He waved at his soup bowl, and an android servant appeared a moment later to clear away the mostly full bowl as well as the soup plate. Another android arrived with a platter of salad large enough to feed a cow, the lettuce buried under exotic cheeses and assorted grilled vegetables and meats from beasts native to a dozen different worlds. The servant poured three different colors of dressing on three different areas of Francorte's enormous salad. “Every rung takes you higher, Audrey. A job in the commerce or state department might seem boring now, but getting bored is how you pay your dues on the way up. That's the hard part of your career, dealing with the boredom. Think about the long game. Like Marcello does.”

  “Yeah,” Audrey said, “Marcello's going to run for World Legislature, and he'll win with help from all your friends and allies, plus a little boost from the Simons using targeted-media AI to make sure every voter hears what they want to hear. And if that's not enough, there's always the question of who's really counting the votes—”

  “Don't be a conspiracy theorist.” Briellana rolled her glittering eyes.

  “We all know you've had a tough time, Audrey,” her mother said. “Maybe you just need a long weekend. Or even a semester off. We can speak to the Academy dean. No one will look down on you—”

  “I don't care about people looking down on me, and I don't care about starting down the long path of helping Marcello take over the prime legislator job when Father retires. Nepotism and corruption aren't exactly the hallmarks of a society on the rise, you know?”

  “So you don't feel any loyalty to your family at all?” Briellana snapped. “Instead you care about... what, exactly? Acting superior to all of us, based on what? What have you ever done that mattered? Win the debate team trophy? Who cares?”

  “I've never done anything that mattered. And that changes now.” She looked up the table at her father. “Veritum.”

  Marcello frowned, as though she'd spoken in an unfamiliar language. “What's a Veritum?” he asked.

  “It's a planet—”

  “A resource-poor outer world of no significance,” her father said. “Audrey was going to propose to the entire leadership of Carthage that we waste resources annexing the planet. I saved her the embarrassment by cutting the meeting short.”

  “You did that on purpose?” Audrey said. “I thought you were just responding to pressure from the crowd.”

  “That crowd has little attention span for the details of policy anymore,” her father said. “Which is just as well, because they could never create the webs of strategies and contingency plans developed by the Simons. Everything the human legislators do is ham-fisted, with an eye toward personal gain and personal ambition rather than the good of society.”

  “So very different from us,” Audrey said.

  “You understand we ride atop a fire-breathing dragon, high in the clouds,” her father said. “We cannot step off without being destroyed. Nor can we fully steer the beast. Some think I hold all the power because I ride in the saddle, but that's an illusion. The dragon has a mind of its own—a wiser, more intelligent mind than any human possesses. You want to see a great change, a great improvement in society? Where? How? We are the wealthiest and most powerful society in human history. More than a hundred worlds bend the
knee to us. The rest cannot afford to ignore us. What more could we achieve?”

  “We could use our power to bring justice where it is needed,” Audrey said. “To protect the weak. To defend what's right.”

  “We already do that,” her mother said.

  “We intervene wherever there are resources to take,” Audrey said. “And we don't always care about whether the system we set up is fair or just. Look at your pet dictator, the Butcher of Marymount—”

  “Sometimes a lesser evil is necessary to prevent a greater one,” her father said.

  “And what greater evil was blocked on that planet?”

  “The rebels are led by dangerous men,” her father said. “Men who attack at night, who leave bombs in government buildings. You should look into that, since you're so interested in research.”

  “Audrey, you just need to rest,” Audrey's mother said. “And see a therapy android. Maybe a vacation—you haven't visited Black Harbor Beach in years. You and Nin could go.”

  “No. I want to go to Veritum.”

  The family fell silent for a moment. Then Marcello erupted in laughter, quickly joined by his personal android, Bek. Briellana rolled her eyes yet again. Liastrada drained her wineglass, setting it down just long enough for a servant to refill it.

  “I assume you're joking,” Francorte finally said. His face was hard as stone, though, not the look of someone enjoying a prank.

  “No. As I was about to explain to everyone at the security meeting before you cut it short, a dangerous cult has taken control of the settlements on that planet. They treat women and children as slaves—”

  “And you want to go there?” Briellana smirked. “Join the cult? What, did they send you a convincing pamphlet?”

  “I want to rescue the victims,” Audrey said. “I want to intervene there and set up a just government, with equal rights for all settlers, male and female. And protections for children.”

  “Baby sis thinks she's Galactic Girl.” Marcello snorted. “Fighting giant purple aliens in the name of justice and freedom.”

  Audrey ignored him, keeping her eyes on her father.

  “You're so stupid,” Briellana said. “What do you think's going to happen? You drop down onto a violent, primitive, cult-ridden, basically lawless world and convince everyone to be nice to each other? Using what? The power of your charm? Because you don't really have any, Audrey, I'm sorry to mention. You're weird, and you make people uncomfortable.”

  “I know,” Audrey said. “So, instead of charm, I'm going to need a minicarrier.”

  “What?” Marcello gaped. “You can't have a—”

  “Just one destroyer,” she said. “And a squad of fighters. That'll give me all I need for air superiority; Veritum doesn't have much orbital or aerial defense. Then I'll need to establish dominance on the ground. I think a battalion of reapers should be enough. But I'll also need equipment for humanitarian outreach. Nurse-bots. Constructors. Agricultural machines.”

  Audrey's family stared at her, shocked again into a silence so complete that all Audrey could hear was the soft strings of the small orchestra and the light splash of an android refilling Marcello's beer glass.

  “That's absurd,” Francorte finally said. Her father's voice was as cold as she'd ever heard it. “You're not a military officer. You have no experience with command, especially in a dangerous real-world environment.”

  “Neither do most of the actual officers, even the generals with their junk drawers crammed full of medals,” she said. “The machines do everything. That's all I want—machines under my command. But I also want to bring a few actual humans with me.”

  “Every aspect of this idea is insane,” her mother said. “If you want to leave Carthage, there are a number of much nicer places you can visit. Civilized worlds that aren't thousands of light-years away.”

  “I'm not looking for a vacation,” Audrey said. “I want to do something that matters. I want to wield Carthage's power for an important cause.”

  “You just want to wield power,” Marcello said. “Like a bratty, impatient kid.”

  “You cannot go off to a dangerous world like Veritum. It's final,” her mother said.

  “Is it?” Audrey asked. “Because I have a press conference about it scheduled in... ” She checked her pocket screen. “Fifteen minutes. Reporters are probably already gathering.”

  “What are you talking about?” her father bellowed, rising to his feet. “You can't call a press conference.”

  “It was actually very easy,” Audrey said. “Turns out every media channel wants to hear about my story. My kidnapping, they keep calling it. With a press conference, I can set the record straight about all that, including the possible dangers from Hamilcar Security androids that are vulnerable to hackers.”

  “You cannot do that. We've just discussed why—” her father began.

  “Or, I could focus on my upcoming visit to Veritum,” Audrey said. “And the injustices that Carthage will set right there.”

  Francorte crossed his arms. “You think you can control me with these kinds of threats?”

  “I've already sent an advance media package about Veritum,” Audrey said. “A few choice items from my research and the presentation I prepared. I didn't mention my views about Hamilcar Security, but I can certainly add those.”

  “Call off the press conference,” her father said.

  “That would look strange, wouldn't it?” Audrey asked. “Why call a conference, send an advance package, then cancel? I mean, they can still run the media package. There are some disturbing video clips in there. Anyone not concerned about the problems on Veritum soon will be. The same way we always make them care about the plight of whatever helpless people need to be 'liberated' next. Only Veritum isn't rich with resources or located along some major transport route. Intervening there will be an act of real altruism, with no profit for Carthage.”

  “Then what's the point?” Marcello snapped. “You're so naive, Audrey—”

  “Listen, Father,” Audrey said, ignoring her brother. “Carthage is quickly gaining a reputation as a ruthless empire, interested in nothing but our own gain. Intervening in Veritum gives us an argument against that, an example of Carthage using its power to help others when there was nothing in it for us.”

  “This is getting ridiculous,” Briellana said. “Somebody needs to take some happy pills and curl up with a good romantic comedy and a long massage. And I'm not just talking about myself this time.”

  “Actually... she may be right.” Francorte studied Audrey with his artificially cat-like green eyes. “It could be a good move for our planet's image.”

  “Who cares about our image? We have an unstoppable war machine,” Marcello said. “'Do what we say or we'll kill you.' That's all the image we need.”

  “We need to be more than the black skull of oppression,” Francorte said. “We must have another face to wear. We must be more than the Earth-killers.”

  “So you'll support me on this?” Audrey asked him.

  Everyone looked to Francorte. Briellana gaped in surprise. Audrey raised her new pocket screen, hoping to snap a picture of that look on her older sister's face for her own amusement, but Briellana noticed her doing it and scowled, ruining the moment.

  “I will discuss it with Simon Quick,” Francorte said. “An act of pure altruism. It's a clever idea, Audrey.”

  “Clever?” Briellana looked scandalized. “You're going to call her clever for this? I suppose if I crashed my car and demanded we go invade the middle of nowhere, I'd be a genius, too.”

  “Thank you, Father. I'll just finish getting ready for my press conference.” Audrey stood, leaving her tomato soup untouched. Her stomach was clenched too tight to admit much food, even of the liquid kind, and she didn't want to damage her makeup.

  She'd managed to sway her father, at least a little. He actually seemed inclined to consider her plan. The idea of the press conference terrified her, but public opinion was power. Audrey in
tended to grab and use that power now, and to move fast in case Simon Quick tried to change her father's mind.

  “Wait.” Her mother stood. “You can't just go... Audrey!”

  “Sorry, tight schedule.” Audrey walked toward the enormous wooden doors through which she'd entered. Her heart thundered in her chest, and nervous sweat threatened the unusual amount of makeup she'd put on for the cameras.

  While her family members shouted after her, Audrey went to meet the media, to seal her own fate, serving neither her own family and Simon Quick on one side, nor the rebellion on the other. Instead, she'd looked inside and found her own way, as Minerva had advised.

  Every step she took was now her own, she thought as she headed for the apartment's elevator lobby.

  Other worlds awaited her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Galapagos

  Ellison stood on the hull of the shuttle, watching the insidious Carthaginian destroyers approaching the spaceport like the monstrous undersea predators that prowled the deep trenches of Galapagos.

  The spaceport was the destroyers' prey, he thought at first. But maybe not—the Iron Hammers had already seized control of the port, after making an alliance with Carthage.

  So their targets were more likely to be the shuttles and cargo craft fleeing the spaceport. Their first target might well be the stolen Carthaginian shuttle on which Ellison now stood with his wife and his seemingly unkillable defense minister.

  And another huge, obvious target floated only kilometers away. The ragged half ring of Galapagos Defense One remained dark, its gunports closed.

  “Minerva?” Ellison asked. “Are you bringing the defense station online or not?”

  “I am. But you must return inside the shuttle, Minister-General. For the descent to the surface.”

  “I'm not going to the surface,” he said. “Take me to the defense station. Then take my family down to the surface.”

  “Reg, no,” Cadia said, her voice firm over his helmet's speakers. “You're coming with us. We're sticking together.”

  “Minister-General, sir,” Minerva said. “The station is incomplete and a likely target for Carthage. I cannot put you in danger. Protecting you is a core directive of my presence here at Galapagos.”