EMPIRE: Succession

by Richard F. Weyand

  In the end, reflexes won the day.

  “I watched the recordings of you two on the range today,” Gulliver said that evening.

  “What did you see?” Turley asked.

  “Well, you’re still scary, but Marie is terrifying. Once her training came back to her, she was the fastest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “She’s stayed in shape. I was thinking six years in the legislature would have softened her. As it is, she stayed in shape better than I did. I need to be spending more time in the gym.”

  “She has an age advantage you can’t overcome, though,” Gulliver said. “One other thing I thought when I was looking at those recordings.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m glad she’s on our side.”

  Heir To The Throne

  Brigadier General Daniel Parnell was in Blossom, on Garland, in the Garland Sector, on family bereavement leave. His maternal grandfather had passed away. But he had been more than a grandfather to Parnell.

  When his parents had divorced, when Parnell was five, his father had left the planet and had nothing to do with his son’s upbringing. Parnell and his mother had moved in with her parents in Blossom, King Francis’s capital since Flower had been destroyed in the Sintar/Alliance War. They took the upstairs rooms in the two-story house, and lived there until Parnell had left for the Imperial Marine Academy.

  Parnell’s grandfather, Dwayne Whittier, had been his father figure growing up. Whittier had instilled the values that had served Parnell all his life. Whittier had walked away from Crazy King James’s war with Sintar, calling it an unjust war of aggression, when he was forty years old. When he tried to retire from the service, he had been denied because of the war, so he had deserted.

  Whittier’s wife Diane – Parnell’s grandmother – had not understood Whittier’s desertion and refused to follow him into hiding. She had stayed in Flower despite Whittier’s warnings, and died in Sintar’s ultimate penalty for Garland’s part in the bombing of Estvia. Parnell’s mother had been at summer camp when the blow came, and had survived.

  When the war ended so spectacularly badly for James, Whittier had petitioned and been granted clemency by King Francis, who became Sector Governor Schmitt-deVries not long after. Whittier had then signed on to the sector government and moved with his young daughter to Blossom, where he had remarried and helped to rebuild Garland.

  From these experiences, Whittier had gained an appreciation for and admiration of both King Francis and the Emperor Trajan, and he had instilled both in his grandson. When young Parnell had expressed interest in Imperial service, Whittier had encouraged it. ‘There is nothing more satisfying than service to something bigger and more important than yourself,’ he had said. And Whittier had had no more proud a day than when, at the age of eighty-one, he watched in VR as Daniel Parnell graduated from the Imperial Marine Academy.

  Now, sixteen years later, he was gone. Parnell had kept in touch by VR with his mother and with Whittier and Whittier’s second wife Peggy. He had even managed to make it back to Garland three times since graduating the Academy. Parnell had last seen Whittier four years ago, after Peggy had died.

  That trip had been for Whittier. This one was for his mother. Funerals were for the living, not the dead.

  They held the memorial service six weeks after Whittier’s death, so Parnell could attend. It was five weeks by passenger liner and over a thousand light-years to Garland from Center.

  The memorial service was not attended by any of Whittier’s superiors during his life. They were all long gone. His peers, too, had mostly passed on, and the rest were too fragile to travel.

  The memorial service was instead comprised largely of his protégés, the people Whittier had mentored over the years. Parnell was astonished by how many of them there were. It took four hours for all of them to give even a brief account of their debt to the deceased, and Parnell found that he was not the only one who thought his grandfather a great man. It was humbling to consider the centuries of service that had resulted from Whittier’s tutelage.

  Parnell attended the memorial service in Marine Dress Uniform (MDU), with the gold fourragère of the Imperial Guard around his shoulder. Prominent on his chest was the Gratitude of the Throne, from his performance during the Earth Sector Crisis ten years before. Also prominent was the one-star insignia of a brigadier general, confirmed by the Emperor himself less than a year ago.

  His mother, Christine Whittier Parnell, had made a fuss when he had showed up at the house in MDU this morning. She had been a navy brat for ten years until what were for her the bewildering events of the Sintar/Alliance War, the loss of her mother, and the move to Blossom. She had gone off to summer camp and come home to find the world had changed around her.

  “Oh, look at you,” Christine had said. “Dad was so proud of you when he heard about your promotion to the general staff. ‘That’s my boy,’ he said.”

  A tear ran down her cheek.

  “I’m going to miss him so.”

  Parnell held her in his arms. She always seemed smaller than he remembered.

  “Oh, I’m going to mess up your uniform. You don’t want tears on your uniform.”

  He refused to let her go.

  “I’m sure it’s happened before, Mom.”

  Parnell had stood at the memorial service and told his own story of his grandfather, the dressing down he had gotten after he had stood passively by while a group of kids had bullied another. ‘To passively accept injustice is to participate in it. Do not ever forget that,’ he had said. The chastened Parnell had answered merely, ‘Yes, sir,’ but he had not forgotten.

  What he did not tell the memorial service, what he did not even tell his mother, is what the Emperor himself had told him privately almost a year ago but had not publicized.

  By Imperial Decree of the Emperor Trajan, Brigadier General Daniel Parnell was Heir to the Throne of the Galactic Empire.

  Parnell had been on Garland almost a week by the time of the memorial service. He had planned to stay another week, but the morning after the service he received a message that changed his plans.

  “Mom, I’ve been recalled to Center. I’m to leave immediately. I’m sorry I won’t be able to stay another week.”

  “That’s OK, Daniel. You came. You were here for him. For me. That’s what’s important. You go now and do what you need to do.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Unlike his trip out, bouncing through two other sector capitals on the way to Garland on commercial passenger liners, for the trip back to Center the Imperial Navy was dispatching the carrier HMS Illustrious from the Garland Sector fleet contingent. Carriers were the one ship class in the Imperial Navy that was still manned.

  Not merely a weapons platform, the Illustrious carried two battalions of Imperial Marine infantry, including all their assault shuttles and the support personnel for those, plus an air wing of Imperial Marine attack ships for air defense of the landing shuttles and personnel on the ground. A carrier like the Illustrious would normally be accompanied by a fleet freighter, which would drop heavy equipment like tanks and APCs once a planethead had been established.

  Supporting all those Marines was a full crew of Navy personnel to operate the ship itself. In addition to the engines, navigation, environmental, and all the other standard ship functions, all Imperial Navy carriers laid down in the last thirty years were also projector ships, capable of extending its hypergate for other ships or pulling its hypergate over itself for entry to hyperspace.

  The total crew complement of the Illustrious, Navy and Marine, exceeded five thousand.

  All told, it was a lot of hardware and personnel to transport one brigadier general back to the capital. Parnell knew it was more than that, but why such an effort was being made he didn’t know. He had his fears, though.

  Parnell was all packed and dressed in Marine Combat Uniform (MCU) when his ride showed up. It was an APC-CV from IFB Garland. He walked out to the curb of the re
sidential street in front of his grandfather’s house as his mother waved goodbye from the stoop. A lieutenant took his duffel and suitcase. Parnell turned at the door of the APC-CV and waved back to his mother, then got in and sat in the command chair.

  The Armored Personnel Carrier – Command Vehicle was an armored command post. Built on an APC chassis, it substituted a miniature headquarters room for the infantry compartment. Intended for general staff officers commanding field forces, it had a full suite of communications and information processing gear required to support field operations.

  “A little overboard for a ride to base, isn’t it, Major?” Parnell asked the officer who greeted him.

  “It was handy, Sir. And they said you were in a hurry.”

  Parnell nodded. He strapped into the commander’s chair.

  “All right. Let’s go, Major.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  With the ease of long practice, Parnell logged into the private VR system of the APC-CV and reviewed the tactical situation. He had thought they were going to meet up with an Imperial Marines assault shuttle at IFB Garland. Instead, they were on the way to the empty parking lot of a church half a mile down the street, where an Imperial Marines VIP transport already waited.

  The VIP transport was an attack ship that had been modified to have a passenger compartment in place of the magazine and weapons launcher. It was the fastest way into space, and its small size meant it could land just about anywhere.

  Parnell was even more surprised when he saw the HMS Illustrious was coming in on a close high-speed pass of the planet. Strictly against traffic regulations for a commercial vessel, it was also the fastest way to get to the hyper limit, far enough away from the planet to use its hypergate projector to transition into hyperspace.

  They arrived at the church parking lot, and the lieutenant ran his things over to the VIP transport and put them in the locker in the passenger compartment. Parnell sprinted over, and the lieutenant saw him into the passenger compartment and closed the door. Parnell strapped himself in, which triggered the ‘Secured’ light on the pilot’s instrument panel. The little ship spooled up its engines and leapt into the air.

  Parnell lay back and breathed slowly and deeply as the pilot pointed the ship to the sky and really pushed the engines. He must have pulled nearly four gravities of acceleration as the ship shot into space.

  “Sorry, Sir. The Illustrious is coming past the planet on a high-speed fly-by. She’s pulling over two gravities, and she’s been accelerating for a while now. It’s gonna be all I can do to get up to her speed for her to pick us up.”

  “Understood, Pilot. Do what you need to do. I’m fine.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  Once clear of the atmosphere and its drag, if anything the acceleration increased a bit.

  Parnell logged into VR and checked the navigation display. There was the Illustrious. She was already going fast and pushing hard. At her current velocity, she would overfly the VIP ship if the pilot didn’t keep his throttle in it. As it was, it would be close.

  Then Parnell realized. Of course, it would be close. The two ships were likely now in computer control to make the pickup. Illustrious was only pushing as hard as she could without the VIP ship being required to exceed four gravities.

  He continued to watch in VR as the big ship came up behind the shuttle. The rate of approach slowed as the shuttle continued to out-accelerate the big ship, gradually eating away at its velocity advantage. The big ship finally pulled up alongside, and the relative velocities matched. The VIP ship cut its acceleration back to two gravities and slowly maneuvered sideways with respect to the big ship, until it could be snagged by the dolly on the pickup boom.

  Once snagged by the dolly, the pilot cut the engines. They were still accelerating at two gravities, but that was Illustrious’s doing. The dolly slowly moved down the boom, taking them closer to the carrier.

  “Sir, rather than try to debark under two gravities acceleration, we’re going to just sit tight here until Illustrious makes transition. If that’s OK with you, Sir.”

  “That’s fine, Pilot. Whatever you recommend.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  The wait was only a couple of hours before Illustrious reached the hyper limit, cast her hypergate behind her, then drew it over herself like a magician’s cloak and disappeared from normal space.

  The acceleration dropped to one gravity as Illustrious throttled back, and the pilots completed the docking maneuver. Parnell and the pilots debarked the VIP ship onto the carrier.

  Ensign Berglund guided Parnell through the corridors of the ship and showed him to the flag briefing room. An Imperial Marines brigadier general, an Imperial Navy rear admiral, and an Imperial Navy captain waited for him there.

  “Ah, General Parnell. Welcome aboard,” Rear Admiral John Stevens said.

  “Thank you, Admiral. I’m glad to be aboard.”

  “I’m John Stevens, and these are General Clyde Cosworth, commanding the Imperial Marines aboard, and Captain Julia Bianchi, the captain of the Illustrious.”

  There were handshakes all around, and, at the wave of a hand from Stevens, Parnell sat in the other open chair.

  “Sorry for the hard ride back there, General Parnell.”

  “I understand, Admiral. No problem at all.”

  “My orders were simple, General. Get General Parnell to Center as fast as possible. My understanding is that those orders came from the Co-Consul. I’m told it was something like ‘With all possible speed. Impress me.’ As it is I think we set a new Imperial Navy record for surface-to-hyper elapsed time. But I’m probably not going to be able to brag about that, am I?”

  “I think eventually, Admiral. But not at the moment.”

  “That’s what I expected. And I was ordered to place myself under your command, General, as was General Cosworth here.”

  Parnell raised an eyebrow at that.

  “Indeed.”

  “Yes. I was wondering if you could shed any light on my orders, or on what is going on.”

  “At the moment, I don’t know any more than you do, Admiral. And I’d rather not speculate.”

  Stevens gave him a piercing look, then nodded.

  “Well, I can speculate as well, but I won’t. As for our status, as you know, we need to maintain a third of a gravity to stay in hyperspace. We’ll stay at one gravity for crew comfort, but no matter how hard we accelerate, our speed in hyperspace stays the same, about twenty thousand times the speed of light. So it’s over three weeks to Center, General Parnell, no matter what we do.”

  Parnell nodded.

  “I understand, Admiral.”

  “Do you have any orders for me, General Parnell?”

  “Yes, Admiral. Navigate a least time course to Center, but find a fleet base we can stop at three to five days out. You can resupply there before continuing on.”

  “That will slow our return, General.”

  “Yes, Admiral. But it also gives us a chance to learn more about what’s going on. Don’t forget Admiral Ito’s little mistake.”

  Stevens eyes widened, but then he nodded. Admiral Daisuke Ito of the Democracy of Planets had led a military force against Jasmine at the end of the Sintar/Alliance War. He had not dropped out of hyperspace to reconnoiter or confirm orders before crossing the Jasmine border. In the meantime, Jasmine had annexed to Sintar. Ito crossed over into what had become Sintaran space and his force of a hundred thousand ships was annihilated by the Imperial Navy.

  “Very well, General.”

  Bianchi called out, “Ensign.”

  Ensign Berglund opened the door and stuck his head in.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Show General Parnell to his quarters.”

  “Yes, Sir. This way, General Parnell.”

  Parnell’s assigned quarters were on flag deck, just down the hall. His things had been delivered to his quarters.

  Thinking back on the meeting with Stevens, Cosworth,
and Bianchi, Parnell had lied to Admiral Stevens. He did know a little more, but the mail he got this morning was not one he was prepared to share.

  To: Brigadier General Daniel Parnell, Imperial Guard

  From: Empress Consort Amanda Peters

  Subject: Recall to Center

  Return Center ASAP. Make all haste. IM will pick you up. Stop three to five days out and contact me.

  Sector Governors

  They met in VR, being separated by as many as a thousand light-years from one side to the other. Each was leery of the others – that one might record the meeting and use it to advantage – but they were moved by urgency.

  “I think we need to start off by swearing to each other that we are not recording this meeting and, come what may, we will not disclose this discussion to anyone. I so swear,” Stanton Sector Governor Bryan Hawking said.

  “I so swear,” Fremd Sector Governor James Thornton said.

  “I so swear,” Vandalia Sector Governor Elizabeth Sounder said.

  “I so swear,” Lauda Sector Governor Joshua Lewis said.

  “I so swear,” Mantua Sector Governor Teresa Montefiore said.

  “So. Good,” Hawking said. “The reason we are getting together couldn’t be simpler. We are concerned about the future of the Empire. It is clear that Emperor Trajan will pass soon, and that raises the issue of the succession to the Throne.”

  “But the successor to the Throne is always selected by the previous Emperor,” Lewis said.

  “Actually, that’s not so, Joshua,” Sounder said. “The successor to the Throne of the Sintaran Empire was always selected by the previous Empress. There is no precedent for the successor to an Emperor. More to the point, though, there is no precedent for the Galactic Empire. Trajan has been Emperor from its founding.”