The Empire's Corps: Book 03 - When The Bough Breaks

by Christopher Nuttall

  “For the moment, the Civil Guard has cordoned off Imperial University,” the Grand Senator continued. “However, the students are starting to sprout their own propaganda onto the airwaves. We are unable to stop or jam their transmissions. Their uprising might be just the first in a series of explosions ...”

  “I understand,” Roland said, very calmly. “And what would you like me to do?”

  “This requires harsh measures,” the Grand Senator said. “I would like you to authorise the Civil Guard to go in with extreme force.”

  Belinda stared. He had to be insane. There were hundreds of thousands of students caught up inside Imperial University and they couldn't all be guilty. Sending in the Civil Guard in such force would result in mass slaughter at the very least. The riot the Marines had put down would be a minor headache compared to the coming apocalypse.

  Roland seemed to have thought of that for himself. “There are thousands of students in the campus,” he said, sharply. “How many of them are you prepared to kill?”

  “This is a direct challenge to our authority,” the Grand Senator snapped. “We have got to respond harshly before it spread out of control. I require you to sign a bill authorising extreme measures.”

  “You don't need me to sign anything,” Roland said. His tone hadn't changed. “Emergency bill #23 gives you the authority to take whatever steps you deem necessary to save the Empire.”

  “Yes, but it has to be explained to the Empire as well,” the Grand Senator said. He was clearly running out of patience. “If the action is clearly supported by the Crown Prince, it will be harder for our dissidents to oppose it.”

  “You mean you want me to take the blame for the slaughter of thousands of students,” Roland said. He glared at the Grand Senator with undisguised loathing, not even trying to hide his feelings. “If you feel the urge to crack down, Senator, you can do it without my help.”

  The Grand Senator, for a long moment, showed true surprise. He hadn't expected the uprising, Belinda realised in shock; no wonder his approach to Roland had been terribly clumsy. Given more time to think, he might have come up with an argument that would convince Roland to help him. The student uprising threatened the power base he'd so carefully built up, culminating in emergency bill #23. And if he failed to deal with it, the Grand Senate might turn on him.

  “You are the Crown Prince of the Empire,” the Grand Senator said, finally. “You have an obligation” – he stressed the word – “to maintain law and order.”

  Roland’s face darkened. “How could you maintain law and order by slaughtering thousands of students?”

  The Grand Senator ignored him. “Life is good for you, Your Highness,” he said, lowering his voice until it was a threatening growl. “It can easily get worse.”

  “Like it will get worse for those students?” Roland demanded. “I do follow the reports, Senator.”

  “Then you will know that we cannot meet their demands,” the Grand Senator snapped. “Food supplies cannot be brought into existence with a wave of a magic wand. The algae farms are already pushed to the limit merely keeping the damn population fed! As for their other demands ... the Empire needs strong leadership. It does not require a popularity contest.”

  He leaned forward until he seemed to be glaring right into Roland’s eyes. “The Empire is at stake, Your Highness,” he hissed. “I will not permit you to prevent us from doing what needs to be done.”

  “My coronation oath states that I will protect the citizens of the Empire,” Roland hissed back, “even from their own government. I will not allow you to slaughter thousands of students.”

  The Grand Senator leaned back, very slightly. “And how do you propose to stop us?”

  His voice hardened. “You appear to be getting delusions of grandeur,” he added, nastily. “You have no authority to override the Grand Senate, nor do you have troops to intervene. Your sole function is to give us your approval for whatever actions we deem necessary, for which we gratefully allow you your palaces and your pleasures. I suggest, Your Highness, that you learn to behave. Or I will send my steward to give you a whipping.”

  Roland ignored the mocking threat. “I will go there myself,” he said. “Will you risk having me killed in the crossfire.”

  Belinda stared at him in disbelief.

  The Grand Senator seemed equally surprised. “You are out of your mind,” he said, finally. “If you go there, you will walk right into a firestorm.”

  “I’m going,” Roland said. “I will not be your puppet any longer.”

  He hit a key and the Grand Senator’s image vanished.

  “That ... was unwise,” Belinda said. “There is no way that I am going to let you go into that maelstrom.”

  “You swore loyalty to me,” Roland reminded her. “You have to let me go.”

  “I swore loyalty, not blind obedience,” Belinda snapped. Somehow, she’d come to like Roland enough to want to see him live for more reasons than professionalism. “No halfwit from the Civil Guard would risk allowing their primary to go into such a nightmare willingly. It would be impossible to guarantee your safety even with a company of Marines surrounding you.”

  “There's one of me,” Roland pointed out, “and thousands of them. Is my life more important than theirs?”

  Belinda gritted her teeth. He couldn't have picked a more inconvenient time to learn about self-sacrifice. She knew that Marine COs often hated having to remain behind while their Marines went to war, but ... she shook her head firmly. Roland could not be allowed to put himself into danger like that.

  “Your death would destabilise the Empire further,” she pointed out, finally.

  “If I stay here, the Grand Senate will just tell everyone that I back their actions,” Roland said. “They might even create an illusion of me ordering the Civil Guard into action. And then thousands of people will die! I can't stay here and let it happen. If I was there, they couldn’t risk killing me ...”

  Belinda scowled at him. He had a point. If the Civil Guard killed an important hostage, they could expect to be severely punished for it, even if it wasn't their fault. Roland wouldn't be a hostage – she assumed – but his death would still be disastrous. The fact that Roland had gone there of his own free will wouldn't be taken into account. None of the Grand Senate would lose any sleep over the hostages already there, but if the Crown Prince died ...

  ... If nothing else, they’d have to struggle over who should inherit the throne.

  “And if you do go,” she said, as calmly as she could, “what will you do? Just sit there and stare at the Civil Guard?”

  Roland hesitated; Belinda pushed ahead.

  “The problem with hostage situations,” she said, “is that the hostage-takers are trapped. They know that they cannot escape – and they know that the only thing keeping them alive is the presence of the hostages. Their only hope is to negotiate a way out that leaves them alive and free – and that isn't easy. They have to suspect that the Grand Senate will go back on any bargain once the hostages are safe.”

  She scowled. No matter how she looked at the situation, it seemed nightmarish. The Grand Senator might have already written the hostages – and the students – off completely. It would even make sense; Imperial University had long ago stopped producing anything, but graduates with a huge sense of entitlement and very few prospects. A slaughter that left most of the students dead and the remainder on one-way tickets out to the Rim might suit them very well. Few voices would oppose shutting down the university after such a tragedy.

  “I can write them a formal pardon,” Roland insisted. “I checked; I have the authority to write pardons. They have to be confirmed by the Emperor – and I will be Emperor in a few months. I think they would be legally binding ...”

  “The Grand Senate might disagree,” Belinda said, tiredly. On the other hand, the Grand Senate might realise the dangers inherent in overriding their puppet so publically. They might grit their teeth and accept it, particularly if t
he hostage situation came to an end. “Roland, I ...”

  “I have to go,” Roland said. There was a pleading note in his voice, but also underlying determination – and strength. She'd helped put it there. “It is my duty. Even if you don't come, I have to go. If nothing else, it is the best chance I am likely to get to break free of their control.”

  “I should tie you up,” Belinda said, tiredly. “Or whip you myself.”

  But he was right. This was his best chance to break free ... and save thousands of students into the bargain. The coming bloodbath had to be prevented; if there was even the slightest possibility it could be prevented, she had to try.

  And she had sworn an oath to serve and defend the citizens of the Empire. And the students, as stupid as many of them were, were citizens of the Empire. She was obliged to defend them with all the weapons at her disposal.

  “Very well,” she said, tiredly. The Commandant was going to court-martial her. She'd been required to study past court martial proceedings at the Slaughterhouse; offhand, she couldn't recall any as ... controversial as her own was likely to prove. “I shall organise our transport immediately.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Unfortunately, matters started to spiral out of control. Each action he took – the deliberate provocation of a riot and the harsh response by the authorities – proceeded to have significant unintended consequences. The punishment handed out to the students, for example, illustrated the true nature of their position far better than any agitator could hope for. It also helped to radicalise their parents, who grew worried about the safety of their children.

  -Professor Leo Caesius, The End of Empire

  Stephen rarely allowed himself to become angry.

  It was a luxury he could not afford, not in his position. The time he’d caught his son molesting one of the bodyguards? He'd been mad then, with good reason. His son’s sexual leanings were of no concern, but trying to force a bodyguard into his bed? It had been insane. He’d disowned his son, stripped him out of the line of succession and exiled him to a world along the Rim. The family could not afford such a madman so close to the top.

  But Roland had managed to get under his skin. The Crown Prince had almost no power – and Stephen knew that he had almost no power. He was no ignorant citizen to be impressed by pomp, circumstance and arrogance; he knew that the Crown Prince’s job was to look good, help convince the masses to obey and little else. Did Roland really think that he could impress a Grand Senator?

  And yet Roland had managed, accidentally or otherwise, to threaten his position.

  Cold rage boiled through his mind as he contemplated the ruination of his plans. Earth – and the solar system – was the one place in the Empire where outright violence could not be condoned easily. Earth was the core of the Empire, home to the bureaucrats who kept the system running – many of whom had children in Imperial University. He’d worked hard to provoke the riot that had provided the excuse to take control of the government – to all intents and purposes – but now it seemed that matters were slipping out of control. The students believed that they could take hostages and get away with it.

  Stephen hadn't expected such a violent uprising. It shouldn't have been possible. Everyone knew that the inhabitants of Imperial City were sheep, that the only thing the university cops had to worry about was someone drunk or stoned out of his mind – and the Civil Guard should not have been involved at all. Stephen’s agents had had to work hard to produce the riot, in the process rubbing the students collective face in their own powerlessness. And now the students had turned violent.

  He glared down at the latest report from Admiral Valentine. The students didn't seem to have too many weapons, but there was no way the Civil Guard could crush the uprising without causing massive slaughter. Roland had been right, damn him; Stephen briefly considered negotiation before dismissing the thought. The Empire did not negotiate with terrorists. It was a cardinal rule. Besides, giving the students what they wanted – or even enough of what they wanted to satisfy them – would weaken the Empire’s bargaining position in future.

  Everyone wanted something, he knew. There were just too many factions in the Empire who would start their own uprisings if they believed that the Empire would fold rather than fight. God alone knew how much damage they would do, given half a chance. The Empire needed to stop the student uprising in its tracks, before it encouraged other uprisings. And the students were somehow getting the word out over the datanet. There was little hope of containing the situation quietly. It would only get worse if the Crown Prince arrived as a voluntary human shield.

  Damn you, Roland, Stephen thought.

  Years ago, he’d had a genealogist look into the question of who, after Roland, was the Heir to the throne. The Royal Family had been careful, too careful; there were several possible heirs, but none of them had a very strong connection to the Throne. Not, in the end, that it would matter; Roland’s successor would be approved after a great deal of political horse-trading by the Grand Senators, regardless of which of them had the best claim to the Throne. It would be a political struggle at the worst possible time.

  The Emergency Committee hadn't expected to go unchallenged indefinitely, but the student uprising would ensure that the challenges started sooner, rather than later. Stephen had planned to quietly establish an iron grip on Earth and the solar system before they were challenged openly, but events were being pushed forward far faster than he’d dared fear. If Roland did something utterly idiotic, the rest of the Grand Senate would happily use it against the Emergency Committee.

  We should have taken him into protective custody from the start, Stephen thought, coldly. Who would have thought that he would actually develop a spine?

  He’d believed Roland to be stupid and useless, just like so many children from the Grand Families. They were raised in the height of luxury, without so many of the woes that afflicted so many people on Earth. And they turned into useless human beings, spoiled to badly that they literally turned spoilt. Some of them were incapable of doing something as simple as dressing without assistance. He’d thought that Roland was just as pathetic.

  But if he'd been aware of his true position all along ...

  Stephen shook his head. It could not be tolerated – or risked. The Empire had enough problems without the Crown Prince trying to carve out a role for himself.

  He keyed his wristcom. “Connect me to Colonel Jamey,” he ordered. There was only one thing to do now. “I have a job for him.”

  ***

  “I think they were searching your apartment,” Richard said, quietly.

  Amethyst stared at him. They’d spent the last several days in the same apartment, doing nothing apart from having sex – and it had started to grow a little tedious. She would have felt better, she suspected, if she had been able to get out of the box-like room, but Richard had forbidden her to leave. The Civil Guard was on the alert and if she had been identified ...

  The old her would have been horrified at the thought of violent students occupying Imperial University. But the person she had become found it delightful, in a strange way. She’d done too much to go back now; the only hope, as she’d learned from the Professor’s book, was to push onwards and pray that they could bring the Grand Senate down. She’d wanted to go to the University, taking as many weapons as she could with her, but Richard had forbidden that too. Getting from their apartment to the University would have been incredibly dangerous.

  She found her voice. “My apartment?”

  “Your apartment,” Richard confirmed. He had a handful of friends in the middle of the uprising, he’d said, friends who were keeping him updated. “It was searched just before the uprising broke out. I think they hauled your friend off in chains.”

  “Jacqueline? But she wasn't involved ...”

  Richard laughed at her. “I think you should know by now that guilt or innocence doesn't matter too much to the Civil Guard,” he reminded her, sarcastically. “B
ut in any case, they found your copy of the Professor’s book.”

  “But I hid it really well,” Amethyst protested. “I ...”

  “The Civil Guard is very experienced in searching apartments,” Richard said. He gave her a sharp look. “What do you think you might have thought of that wasn't thought of by countless people before you? Besides, Jacqueline did attend the first meeting. That alone would be enough to condemn her.”

  Amethyst blanched. She’d barely given a thought to her friend since she’d joined Richard’s little group. God knew that she didn't dare risk returning to her apartment, but she could have tried to warn Jacqueline ... what would the Civil Guard do to her?

  “Exile is the standard punishment,” Richard said, when she asked. “However, it seems that Jacqueline was freed by other students. Right now, she may be in more danger.”

  “We have to go there,” Amethyst said. “We could help ...”

  “There is absolutely nothing to be gained by throwing our lives away,” Richard said. He ignored her stunned expression. “Every student on campus is trapped; if we go there, we will be trapped too. And we cannot stand up to the massed firepower of the Civil Guard. The uprising will be crushed and most of the students caught up in the fighting will be killed.”

  “I thought the idea was to force the Grand Senate to change,” Amethyst protested. She felt hot tears stinging her eyes as she pushed onwards. “Letting them kill thousands of students ...”

  Richard spoke calmly, as if he were speaking to a child. “Our sole advantage is being difficult to find,” he said, flatly. “If we go to the University, we will lose that advantage – and gain nothing from it. The students in the University are marked for capture or death. Those who survive capture will be exiled as indentured colonists. There is nothing we can do to stop it.”