EMPIRE: Succession

by Richard F. Weyand

  Amanda Peters was never one to sit around and mope, and today of all days she wanted to keep busy. She went to work that day in her office on the Co-Consul’s staff floor. She had her software watching the newsfeeds for information on what Hawking and Sounder and their allies would do. It wasn’t even noon when the first hit popped out.

  Bryan Hawking was answering questions from the press in the press briefing room of the Sector Governor’s Residence on the sector capital of Stanton. Peters warned herself not to get angry – she needed to evaluate strategies and countermoves, and for that she needed a clear head.

  “Governor Hawking, what do you think of the Palace’s announcement?”

  “I’m saddened, as we all are, by the Emperor’s passing, and my thoughts and best wishes are for his wife and his family.”

  “What of the new Emperor, Governor Hawking?”

  “I’ve seen the Palace’s candidate for the Throne. He seems like a competent sort.”

  “Candidate, Governor Hawking? Emperor Trajan named him his Heir and successor.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen that claim. I don’t have any other information about it.”

  “But if he is Emperor Trajan’s choice, that’s the end of the discussion, isn’t it, Governor Hawking? That is the precedent.”

  “That was the precedent in the Sintaran Empire, but the Sintaran Empire is no more. This is the Galactic Empire, and there is no precedent for the succession. No precedent at all.”

  “Are you saying you don’t accept General Parnell as the new Emperor, Governor Hawking?”

  “I think it’s an open issue at this point, honestly. I think other candidates should be considered. Perhaps more experienced people, with administrative experience.”

  “Are you putting yourself forward as a candidate, Governor Hawking?”

  “No, no, not at all. I would be an unacceptable choice to many people. The new Emperor needs the broadest base of support.”

  “Who then, Governor Hawking?”

  “Oh, there are many experienced sector governors who might serve the Empire well. Provence Sector Governor Jerome Goulet, for example. There are others.”

  That raised a shout of questions from the press gaggle, but Hawking raised a hand in farewell and left the room.

  It was masterfully done, Peters knew. The ‘I have seen that claim’ statement raised doubt without actually mentioning any doubt. And Peters herself had predicted the ‘no precedent’ argument.

  What she hadn’t predicted was Jerome Goulet. Goulet was an inspired choice by Hawking and Sounder. He was sector governor of an old Sintaran sector, which ate at the support of the precedent argument among the old Sintaran sectors. He was experienced, with almost twenty years as sector governor. He was handsome and distinguished at age sixty. He was a careful speaker, not prone to bombast or hyperbole. He was not a partisan of any faction, and had a reputation as a mediator of opposing parties.

  And he was at least ten days closer to Center than Parnell currently was.

  He also wouldn’t do as Emperor. He was a sector governor, and as such he held the view that sector governors should have more power. That was a huge problem. In anything as big as the Empire, the centrifugal forces were huge. More power to the sector governors meant it was only a matter of time before the Empire fractured into sectors, coalesced around several power centers, and started the whole cycle of interstellar war all over again.

  Further, he had no military experience, and no view of the Empire from the center. No overall view. No – what was the word she wanted? – appreciation of the whole.

  Peters allowed herself one moment of anger at Hawking. He was putting everything she and Bobby had achieved over half a century at risk. The Empire itself – and the peace and prosperity it had engendered – hung in the balance. There will come a day of reckoning, Mr. Hawking.

  Hawking and Sounder had to be stopped, and Goulet had to be kept from the Throne.

  Peters just didn’t have any idea – yet – of how to do that.

  Never underestimate Housekeeping. When she went home that evening, she went home to an apartment in the Residence Wing of the Imperial Palace, two floors below the Imperial Residence where she had lived for the past sixty-three years. All her things had been moved in and arranged by the Housekeeping staff.

  That evening, she ate in the staff cafeteria three floors below, on the lower of the two Imperial Office floors. Per the etiquette of the cafeteria, everyone let her be alone rather than mob her with condolences. She sat by herself and just bathed in the hubbub about her, feeling comforted by the presence of so many friends and co-workers.

  The evening was the worst, when she went back to the empty apartment. No more sitting with Bobby after dinner, talking over the day’s events.

  Moving into the apartment had been the right move, however. It would have been so much worse sitting in the living room upstairs, with the empty sofa across from her.

  Over the next forty-eight hours, more sector governors weighed in. Several more mentioned Goulet as a good choice, and others started to jump on that bandwagon. By noon of the second day after Trajan’s death, Goulet had a majority of sector governors supporting his appointment as Emperor. It was reported that Goulet was on his way to the Imperial capital to ‘discuss’ the succession with the Co-Consul.

  The support for Parnell, as Trajan’s choice, was a mere twenty-five of the seventy-nine sectors, including eighteen of the original Sintaran sectors, plus Jasmine, Midlothia, Phalia, Estvia, Garland, Pannia, and the Rim. Fourteen sector governors were playing their cards close to their chest, and were waiting to see which way the wind would blow.

  Peters, Hayes, and MacFarland met for lunch in Hayes’s private dining room on the top floor of the Imperial Palace, in the Co-Consul’s Residence, which shared the top floor with the now-empty Imperial Residence. As had been the case since Suzanne Saaret laid down the rule over sixty years before, it was strictly first-names-only on the top floor of the Palace.

  “So now what do we do?” Hayes asked once they had been served and the staff dismissed.

  “That is my question as well,” MacFarland said.

  They both looked at Peters.

  “It would have been much easier if they had picked a less attractive candidate,” she said.

  “You’re convinced he can’t do the job, Amanda?” Hayes asked.

  “Yes, Sandy. I’m convinced. He has no military experience, he has no high-level view, he has not had any exposure to Imperial issues.”

  “None of which is true of General Parnell,” MacFarland said flatly.

  “Also true,” Peters said. “Parnell has been in the military, and he has been Bobby’s protégé for ten years. He’s been in the important meetings. He’s even been on hand for a lot of Bobby and my discussions in the evenings. He would know what he’s doing, and Governor Goulet would not.”

  “The problem is, if we push Parnell, it could get ugly,” Hayes said.

  “Ugly?” Amanda asked. “We could start a civil war. Fracture the Empire entirely. What it would take to put that back together I can hardly imagine.”

  Hayes sighed.

  “It would be easier if Goulet wasn’t actually a reasonable person, or didn’t have the best interests of the Empire at heart,” he said. “I worked with him a lot when we cleaned up that corruption mess ten years ago, and a couple of times since. I was impressed with the guy. Still am, for that matter. But nobody knows what it takes to be Emperor better than you, Amanda. If he can’t do it, he can’t do it.”

  Wait. What was that? Amanda had a glimmering of something. The flashes of intuition didn’t come as easily as when she was younger. Say, merely seventy-five or eighty. But she trusted that feeling, and, even at eighty-eight, she could still tease them out if she worked at it.

  Her eyes closed, she held up a hand while she worked on it, and Hayes and MacFarland were content to wait. They’d seen that look before.

  Then she had it. It was brilliant and
subtle. Not high probability, but it was her best shot. And if it worked, there would be no civil war.

  Peters looked up suddenly, into Hayes’s eyes.

  “Let Goulet take the Throne,” she said.

  “What?” Hayes and MacFarland both said.

  “We’re all agreed, right? He can’t do the job, and he has the best interests of the Empire at heart. Let him prove it to himself – that he can’t do the job – and then give him the opportunity to step aside in favor of Parnell. Save the Empire from himself.”

  “That sounds like a risky strategy, Amanda.”

  “It’s less risky than civil war, Sandy. The one thing we can’t do is buttress him up, keep him from making mistakes. We need not assume all Bobby’s policies will stay in place under a new Emperor. When something comes up, ask him to decide. Whether it’s military, or policy, or whatever. Make him be Emperor. And let him figure out that he can’t do it.”

  “Throw him in the deep end, but no swimming lessons, no life preserver?” MacFarland asked.

  “Yes. Let him be Emperor, and let him fail. More, let him see himself to be failing.”

  “What do we do about Parnell, Amanda?”

  “Leave that to me.”

  Maneuvers

  Back in her office, Peters put in a meeting request with Ann Turley and Paul Gulliver. It must have been during waking hours wherever they were, because she got an acceptance immediately, together with a channel to log into.

  Peters found herself in a cozy room that had three big overstuffed armchairs in front of a cheery fire in a stone fireplace.

  “My what a comfortable room,” Peters said.

  Gulliver and Turley both stood and bowed to her.

  “Milady,” they said.

  Peters waved a hand.

  “No, no. We’re done with all that nonsense. I’m just Ms. Peters now. Better yet, just call me Amanda.”

  Gulliver and Turley looked at each other, then back to her.

  “Very well, Amanda,” Turley said. “But then you must call us Paul and Ann.”

  “Good.”

  Peters nodded emphatically.

  “Amanda, we’re so sorry,” Turley said.

  “It was expected. That said, I’m sorry, too. I miss him. Mostly I miss our evenings together, plotting and planning. So many years we did that.”

  Peters sighed.

  “Thank you, though. I appreciate it. But now to business. Bobby charged me with one last task. Get Daniel Parnell on the Throne.”

  “That’s not going to be easy,” Gulliver said.

  “You’ve been following the reports, then. Good. But I have a plan.”

  Peters outlined her plan to them. The plan to let a good but inexperienced man learn his own insufficiency, and then step down.

  “But what happens when General Parnell gets to Center?” Turley asked.

  “He’s not going to. When I recalled him, I instructed him to come out of hyper somewhere three to five days out and get in touch. I wasn’t about to repeat Admiral Ito’s costly mistake in Jasmine.”

  Turley nodded. Gulliver looked perplexed, but Turley gave him her ‘I’ll explain it later’ look.

  “OK. Then what?” Turley asked.

  “Then his ship, with a spacing plan for Center, doesn’t show up.”

  “Missing and presumed lost,” Gulliver said.

  “Exactly. For a while, I need to keep Parnell under wraps. Which brings me to you two. I have no clue where you are, and don’t want to know. What I need to know is, are you in a situation where you can hide him there, wherever there is?”

  Turley and Gulliver looked at each other, and he gave her a barely perceptible nod.

  “Yes, we can,” Turley said. “Really well, actually. It’s perfect.”

  “Good,” Peters said, holding up her hand. “Not another word. I don’t want to know. You’re also going to have to block or disguise his VR, hide the ship somehow, block it from QE radio, all that cloak-and-dagger stuff you guys do. Keep him and the ship hidden. It could be some months.”

  “We can do that.”

  “When he comes out of hyper, I will explain the situation to him, and have him call you then. Are we good?”

  “We’re good, Amanda. We’ll take it from there,” Turley said.

  Peters looked around the simulation again.

  “This is really a tremendously comfortable room. Wherever did you get it?”

  “It was a gift from Governor Derwinsky, Amanda,” Turley said. “I’ll send you the pointer to my download.”

  “Thank you, Ann. I would love to be able to just sit and relax in this room. The Palace apartments are very nice and all, but a bit cold. This is very cozy.”

  “You’re very welcome, Amanda. I hope you enjoy it.”

  Peters gave a little wave and dropped out of the simulation, leaving Gulliver and Turley alone.

  “You realize we just committed to having a houseguest, when we’re houseguests ourselves,” Gulliver said.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m sure it’ll be OK. I think.”

  “We’re going to have to plan this with Morena. How to get him on planet and all.”

  “And then the question is, How much do we tell her?” Turley said.

  “And what about Bouchard?”

  With the legislature not in session, Morena Prieto was spending weekends on Il Refugio. When she returned to the island, Gulliver and Turley met with her privately.

  “So you want to have a houseguest here, but you need it kept very quiet,” Prieto said after they made their request.

  “Yes. That’s it in a nutshell.”

  “A young man?”

  Turley raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, I do have a daughter who’s getting to that age.”

  Gulliver and Turley’s eyes widened, and Prieto went on.

  “This wouldn’t be who I think it is, would it?”

  Turley and Gulliver looked at each other, then back to Prieto.

  “Uh, no comment,” Turley said.

  Prieto nodded.

  “As I thought, then.”

  “Oh, and one other thing,” Turley said.

  “What’s that?”

  “We need to hide an Imperial Navy attack ship carrier.”

  “That will not fit on Il Refugio,” Prieto said.

  “No, but how do you hide a ship? We haven’t figured that out.”

  “We need to bring Marie into this conversation.”

  “The fewer people who know, the better,” Gulliver said.

  “Yes, as long as you’re successful. We need more horsepower to figure this out, and there’s no one more well-read and more devious than Marie.”

  “All right. But not who it is,” Gulliver said.

  “Agreed. But you know she isn’t stupid.”

  Prieto called Bouchard in VR, and she joined them minutes later. Turley explained their need.

  “Hide an attack ship carrier?” Bouchard asked. “How many crew aboard?”

  “Five thousand or so,” Turley said.

  “How long will their on-board supplies last?”

  “With rationing, six months, I think.”

  “So we may need to resupply them at some point.”

  Turley nodded.

  Bouchard’s eyes went unfocused as she dropped into VR.

  “You know this young man?” Prieto asked Turley.

  “Oh, yes. We met him ten years ago.”

  “Is he a nice fellow?”

  “Oh, yes,” Turley answered. “A very solid young man. Has his head on straight.”

  “Competent,” Gulliver said.

  “Handsome,” Turley added.

  “Heavens,” Prieto said, primping her hair. “And available, you say? I may have an interest myself.”

  She chuckled, but Turley and Gulliver weren’t at all sure she was joking. Whatever her age, she didn’t look a day over forty.

  Bouchard dropped out of VR.

  “OK. I just had to check a few things, but I
think I have it. First, the carrier itself never comes here.”

  “Then how does he get here?” Turley asked.

  “The carrier makes a fly-by of Verano in hyperspace and launches an attack ship. They can do that without the acceleration going to zero by running it out on a boom, not drop-launching it. Can he fly?”

  “I don’t think so,” Turley said.

  “OK, so the pilot stays here with him. The attack ship maneuvers in hyperspace to the planet, then drops out on the other side of the planet and lands on the coast somewhere.”

  “What about planetary traffic control?” Turley asked.

  “We don’t have eyes on the other side of the planet,” Bouchard said. “We’re still only fifteen million people, all on this continent. So they land on the other side of the planet, and I go pick them up.”

  “You go pick them up?”

  “Yes. I can fly an assault shuttle.”

  Turley raised an eyebrow at that.

  “On my way here, in the Marine MCUs you arranged for me, I kept in cover by taking Imperial Marine training. I picked assault shuttles. It seemed interesting and potentially useful.”

  “But you need flight time,” Turley said.

  “Which she has,” Prieto said. “Arranged through her indulgent mother, who happens to be the president of the planet.”

  “It’s been a couple years. I’ll brush up.”

  Bouchard shrugged, then continued.

  “So I start brushing up, a couple of shorter flights. One day I go out on a longer joyride. I run across the ocean a couple thousand miles to the other continent and pick them up. The pilot takes the attack ship off in VR and splashes it in the ocean. Then I stop here for lunch on my way back to San Jacinto.”

  “And take the shuttle back to town alone,” Gulliver said. “That’s brilliant. But what do you do with the carrier?”

  “It goes in hyperspace to a neighboring, uninhabited star system. It’s about three light-years away. They chill out there aboard ship.”