Tyrant

by Richard F. Weyand

  “What did the sheriff do about that?”

  “Nothin’. Self defense, pure and simple. The boys’ mother and the two girls, well, they moved to Grand Fork after that. And their cousins never came after me because they knew those boys were trouble from the git-go.”

  “I can’t believe I never heard any of this.”

  “That was a long time ago, son. We didn’t tell you kids because we didn’t want you gettin’ any ideas. Killin’ a man is a serious business, and you need a damned good reason. But sometimes a man‘s just gotta do what needs doin’. I couldn’t undo what those bastards did to poor Martha, but I could make damned sure they didn’t do it to anybody else.”

  “That’s why you always did the hunting, dear,” his mom said.

  “What?”

  “Your father, from the time you were six, had you do the hunting. Wasn’t ‘cause he couldn’t do it, he just figured you would get really good with a rifle if you were the one doing the hunting.”

  “Never know when a skill like that’ll come in handy, son, especially as those MacGruder boys still had family around when you were little. And if every time people see you out and around, you’re carryin’ a rifle, well, that may just remind ‘em o’ what happened the last time a MacGruder came after a Dunham. You get me?”

  After the call, Dunham thought about why Dee had him ask about Aunt Martha’s story. He decided it came down to those three sentences. ‘Killing a man is a serious business, and you need a damned good reason. But sometimes a man‘s just gotta do what needs doin’. I couldn’t undo what those bastards did, but I could make damned sure they didn’t do it to anybody else.’

  I understand, Dee. Trust me, I understand.

  Dunham dropped out of VR and was back in Daggert’s office. Daggert was himself monitoring the fire suppression efforts in VR, but he dropped out and gave Dunham his full attention.

  “General Daggert.”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “You were informed by the Empress of her heir, I see.”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “And you are prepared to support this nomination?”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “The Empress said you had some things for me.”

  “Yes, Sire. Some Imperial Decrees she signed before her death.”

  Daggert choked a little on that last word. He handed Dunham the first of the documents. It was an Imperial Decree naming him as her heir. Interestingly, it included several names after his, in priority order. Pullman, Finn, Perrin. All men. And not Sean. Well, he really wasn’t the type, Dunham supposed.

  Dunham handed it back and took the next one. This was an Imperial Decree dissolving the Imperial Council. This decree countermanded the one of three hundred years before that had created the Council in the first place. And the title of ‘Lord’ was done away with. There was only one remaining title in the administration of the Empire, that of the sovereign, whether Empress or Emperor.

  Dunham handed it back and took the next one. It was an Imperial Finding that the Imperial Council and the Imperial Police were in open rebellion against the Throne and, therefore, the Empire. Only Saaret was excused, by name. Dunham nodded. Dee had been convinced Saaret was never a part of this revolt.

  Dunham handed that one back to Daggert as well.

  “Well, then, General Daggert, how are we to proceed?”

  “It is first necessary, Sire, that I bring you up to date on the preparations Her Majesty made for this eventuality.”

  The Imperial Council

  The news of the fires at the Imperial Palace went out across the news services. They were visible from the towers of Imperial Park East and Imperial Park West several miles away. Video footage of the fires was available on the new services, and then one news service got security footage from one of the towers showing the attack in progress, including the rockets, the heat-seeking missiles, and the crash of the Imperial Marines attack ship and the Imperial Police shuttle.

  At the same time all this news was flowing, there was no word from the palace at all. The Imperial Palace did not maintain a twenty-four-hour press office, and it was, quite simply, after hours. So no news of the Empress’s status or well-being was forthcoming, which led to wild speculation of the ‘Well, if’ variety.

  In the absence of any news from the palace, Galbraith called for an emergency meeting of the entire Imperial Council at nine o’clock the next morning, and Newsom seconded. This went out on a priority basis, which woke those Councilors who had retired early.

  “Galbraith and Newsom have called an emergency meeting of the Imperial Council for nine o’clock tomorrow, Sire,” Daggert said.

  “Do they know the Empress has died, General Daggert?”

  “Yes, Sire. At least some of them do. The Council and the Imperial Police are always trying to recruit informants among the palace staff. Most of the time, the person approached comes to us, and we have them play along. While we haven’t notified anyone outside the Imperial Guard, we did have our double-agents leak to their contacts that the Empress had been killed in the attack.”

  “I think that’s our opportunity, then, General Daggert.”

  “Yes, Sire. Do you wish me to set things in motion?”

  “Yes. See to it, General Daggert.”

  “Very well, sire.”

  “In the meantime, I’m going to get some sleep. I’m going to bed down in one of the on-call rooms for now. Can you see if Housekeeping can find me a uniform, General Daggert? I think I had a couple in the laundry.”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “And you should get some sleep, too, General Daggert.”

  “I doubt I could, Sire.”

  “Neither of us are going to sleep very well, General Daggert, but we have a big day tomorrow. Give it a try.”

  “Very well, Sire.”

  At four o’clock in the morning, two large semi-tanker trucks pulled into the underground dock of the Imperial Council building. The dock was unmanned at this hour, but the doors were VR-controlled and the drivers had access. They opened the two big grade-level doors into the receiving area, and the further doors into the central storage area. They drove the big rigs through the receiving area right into the central storage area and shut them down. The drivers walked back out the two sets of doors and shut them with their VR controls. A sedan pulled up, the drivers got in, and it left.

  When the dock workers came in at seven o’clock, the doors to the central storage area of the Imperial Council building were locked with new combinations. They got a message in VR to report to the Housekeeping office in the Imperial Research building. They had to go out the front entrance and walk to the Imperial Research building outside because the blast doors between the buildings were shut due to the fire in the palace. Once in Housekeeping, they were told they would have to wait until after nine o’clock when the computer guys came in to straighten out the mix-up with the door locks. They went and had a long breakfast in the cafeteria in the atrium on the first floor.

  Dunham got up at six o’clock and there was a clean uniform waiting for him. Housekeeping had also mounted all the correct citations in the proper places. He dressed and joined General Daggert in his office. Imperial Guardsmen brought up breakfast for them both.

  Daggert looked fresher this morning.

  “I did ultimately sleep last night, Your Majesty. Better than I expected, actually. Your sister the Empress left a message for me as well, admonishing me not to blame myself for the results of her decision not to move to a more secure location, which she called ‘losing in slow motion.’ I viewed it twice more before trying to sleep last night, and it helped a lot.”

  “She was probably right, General Daggert. From the point of view of what is best for the Empire. That’s what makes it harder.”

  “I’m convinced that’s right, Sire.”

  “And now, with the Throne under attack, we are free to act, not just against individuals, but against organizations. Did we get everything in place last night,
General Daggert?”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “We should probably get things started, then, General Daggert.”

  “Very well, Sire.”

  “And I think we should call Lord Saaret to the palace just before nine o’clock. When he shows up here, tell him nothing, General Daggert, but bring him to me.”

  “And where will you be, Sire?”

  “I’ll be on the east balcony of the upper floor of the Residence Wing, General Daggert.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise, Sire?”

  “No, General Daggert, but I don’t care. I want to watch.”

  “I understand, Sire.”

  “And I want the trigger button in my VR.”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  Daggert gave the order.

  In orbit, Imperial Navy ships, already on alert, began loading and arming orbit-to-surface projectiles.

  At the Imperial Marines Training Center four hundred miles south of Imperial City, an entire assault division in full combat load-out began boarding their heavy assault shuttles.

  And a radio-control signal went out to the fancy valve controls on the ten big gas welding rigs stationed around the central storage area of the sub-basement of the Imperial Council building. They began venting acetylene and oxygen into the large open space.

  Lord Saaret, the Chairman of the Imperial Council, arrived at the Imperial Council building just after eight o’clock. He had already heard the rumors circulating among the Council that the Empress was dead.

  He went up to the lobby floor from the Imperial Council building people-mover station and walked out into the cool morning air. The bad weather of the night before had moved on, and the sun was out and starting to warm the air.

  He walked out to where he could get a view of the palace, and saw the smoldering wreckage of the Imperial Marines attack ship on the front lawn. He looked up to the impact point of the Imperial Police shuttle at the eighth floor of the palace, and, higher, the blown out windows of the top floor and the two large windows outlined in the black soot of the fire.

  He shook his head and walked back into the Imperial Council building.

  When Saaret went into the changing room of the Council Chamber, he saw Pomeroy, Newsom, and Galbraith gathered in a discussion. He walked up to them and confronted Pomeroy.

  “Pomeroy, what have you done?”

  “I have done nothing, Saaret, except secure the succession.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I asked Galbraith here to request an opinion of the High Court as to the succession if there is no named heir to the throne. They said it’s up to the Council.”

  “What a timely request,” Saaret said dryly. “But it is without any weight. Daggert will know who the successor is.”

  “Absent a named successor, I don’t care what Daggert thinks he knows. We will choose the heir.”

  Saaret turned away in disgust and donned his robes and medal of office for the upcoming session. Hopefully he could get cooler heads on the Council to prevail over Pomeroy and his cronies, but he didn’t know, this time, whether he could or not.

  Fools! Did they know nothing about how the Empire worked? One hundred and fifty thousand worlds, each with their own history, their own culture, their own laws, all owing loyalty and allegiance to a single ruler. Why? Because that ruler pledged to be on their side, to understand their needs, to do well by them. And by and large, the Empresses had succeeded. That was what held the Empire together, in truth the only thing that held the Empire together: that loyalty to the Empress, and then to her own chosen heir.

  And now they, the bureaucracy, the very embodiment of the hated and impersonal ‘we’re from the government and we’re here to help you’ modern state, proposed to anoint someone of their choice as Empress? And from where does her authority flow? What loyalty will she command, or even deserve? Particularly after the murder of the sitting Empress.

  With five minutes left to go before the meeting, Saaret received a summons to come to the Imperial Palace. Daggert, no doubt, with his announcement of the Empress’s choice of heir.

  Saaret walked back over to Pomeroy, Newsom, and Galbraith.

  “I am summoned to the palace. Try not to do anything stupid while I am gone.”

  Saaret turned and walked away.

  Pomeroy watched Saaret walk away, and he was seething. This was their big chance, and he wasn’t going to let Saaret blow it for them all. Not this time.

  “We don’t need Saaret to call the meeting,” Pomeroy said to Galbraith and Newsom.

  “Without him, you do need a majority vote to proceed in his absence,” Galbraith noted.

  “I think we have that. Let’s call the meeting.”

  “I suppose we could call it for debate,” Newsom said. “We are unlikely to proceed to a vote on anything before he returns anyway.”

  “All right,” Galbraith said. “Let’s do that.”

  Saaret

  Saaret had noted that the blast doors between the Imperial Palace and the Imperial Council building were closed when he got off the people mover earlier. He instead walked outside through the large front entrance of the Imperial Council building and down the sidewalk to the front entrance of the Imperial Palace, the Gothic stone facade of the Throne Room.

  There was a squad of Imperial Guardsmen there, barring entrance to the palace. When he walked up, though, two of them detached themselves and came over to him.

  “I have been summoned to the palace.”

  “Yes, Lord Saaret. This way, please.”

  They led him through the massive front doors, through the vestibule, and into the large open nave of the Throne Room. He walked down the center of the nave as he had four short years before. The cavernous room was empty now. No huge crowd, no gleaming Empress.

  Reaching the dais upon which sat the empty throne, they walked around it to the back, behind the arras that formed the backdrop for the throne, and into the more modern part of the palace. The Guardsmen walked him to the elevators and rode up with him.

  They got off the elevators at a floor Saaret didn’t recognize, and walked down a hallway between widely spaced doors. Apartments, perhaps? Was this the Residence Wing he had heard about?

  At the end of the hallway, there was a large glass wall, which was now folded back against the side walls. Two Imperial Guardsmen stood watch, one to either side. On the balcony beyond, a single figure stood, dressed in an Imperial Guard uniform and leaning on the glass railing, contemplating the Imperial Council building beyond.

  Saaret’s escort waved him forward, and then took up watch positions alongside their fellows.

  Saaret walked out on the balcony, and the leaning figure turned to look at him, then back to the view. It was Major Robert Dunham.

  “Good morning, Lord Saaret.”

  “Major, if the rumors I have heard are true, I want to express to you my heartfelt condolences on this sad morning.”

  “They’re true. My sister is dead. As are her husband and my wife, for that matter.”

  “I am terribly sorry.”

  “She liked you, you know. Both of the last two Empresses, in fact. They trusted you to do what you thought was best for the Empire. They might have occasionally disagreed with your assessment in that regard, but they never doubted your heart.”

  “That is a comfort to know, Major.”

  Dunham continued to look at the Imperial Council building, and Saaret turned his attention to the view. They were only two floors down from the top floor of the palace, and thus perhaps two floors above the top of the Imperial Council building, two hundred yards away. He could see the penthouse, the snub to the Empress by a past Chairman of the Imperial Council, which he had considered removing. Inertia had won out in the end.

  “Did they think she was stupid, Lord Saaret?”

  “Who, Major?”

  “Pomeroy. Galbraith. Newsom. Stanier. Did they actually think she was stupid?”

  “I don’t know, Majo
r. But if they did, based on my own experience, they were sorely mistaken.”

  “More mistaken than they know. I learned a lot of things last night, Lord Saaret. One was the extent to which she had prepared, even for such an eventuality as this. She knew what they were up to. She appreciated the number of different ways it might turn out. But she wouldn’t strike at them first. You know why, of course.”

  Saaret nodded.

  “Of course, Major. The Throne has to be above suspicion of pettiness or malice or spite. It has to be the best of us. It is that which earns the loyalty of the Empire, and holds the Empire together.”

  Dunham nodded.

  “Exactly so. She knew that. And so she had to let them strike first. But now that they have, the Throne’s hands are untied. It is a war between organizations now, not a simple criminal matter pursued against individuals.”

  Saaret shuddered. He knew it was true – what Dunham said – and his dread of what was to come surged.

  “I learned some other things last night. I learned it is tradition, not law, that the ruler of Sintar be female. And I learned that my sister had made me her heir.”

  “Has Daggert made his determination?”

  “Yes. Hence my guardians there,” Dunham said, with a head gesture back toward the Guardsmen standing watch.

  Now it made sense. Saaret had wondered why a pair of guardsmen stood watch over Dunham as he stood on the balcony, and why Saaret’s summons to the palace would end up in Dunham’s presence.

  “I see. Your Majesty.”

  Saaret bowed and spread his hands at his side. Dunham stood up and turned toward him.

  “I will accept your resignation from the Imperial Council, Lord Saaret.”

  Saaret looked into Dunham’s eyes. They were a very light blue, almost blue-white, and unblinking. The eyes of a predator. They were red-rimmed, as if he had cried himself to sleep last night, but his face was relaxed and calm. The face of a man who knew what had to be done, and was prepared to do it. A man with that face would be capable of anything.