“Captain Karl Linden here.”
“Captain Julia Bianchi here, Captain Linden. We’re happy to see you. We were going to have a whole lot of unhappy kindergarteners over here. No cookies, no juice.”
Linden knew what she meant – no food, no reaction mass. But that was Imperial Navy slang you didn’t hear much in the merchant marine.
“Well, we’re happy to oblige, Captain Bianchi. We’re also blocked up to leave you two more refills here in system. You can handle those with your own cargo shuttles, can’t you?”
“Yes, Captain Linden. We’ll maneuver so that when we break up you’re at a good heading and velocity for dropping them, and then we’ll hold the door open for you.”
“I appreciate that, Captain Bianchi. It’s a long drive otherwise.”
Linden heard her chuckle.
“All right, Captain Linden. Let me know when you’re cross-loaded, and then give me a call back.”
“All right, Captain Bianchi. Figure ...”
Linden looked over at the loadmaster, watching progress on the cross-loading the machines were doing. He held up five fingers.
“... five hours.”
“Good enough, Captain Linden. Talk to you then.”
“How is our resupply coming along, Captain?” Stevens asked.
“Good, Sir. We have a couple more hours to full racks. They also brought a couple of reloads with them.”
“Excellent. I’d hate to have to go popping over to Verano and bust up the Emperor’s party. Did you verify their QE is off, Captain?”
“Yes. We have their helm, Sir. QE replies ‘System not available.’ The captain over there is Karl Linden. Senior captain with Stauss, impeccable safety record. He runs a tight ship, Sir, by all accounts.”
“Excellent, Captain. This crazy scheme might work after all. I had my doubts, I’ll admit.”
The Otto Stauss and the Harold M. Beecher spaced in a great curve, while maintaining one gravity acceleration. It wouldn’t do to have them both keep gaining speed in one direction, or the container blocks the Harold M. Beecher was dropping off would be hard to chase down.
When the cross-loading was done, Linden called Bianchi.
“Yes, Captain Linden.”
“We’re all done here, Captain Bianchi.”
“Excellent, Captain Linden. We’ll separate, then you go to 0.8 gravities and let us pull on ahead. You go ahead and drop those container blocks, and, when you give the word, we’ll project a gate and cut our acceleration so you can go on waltzing through.”
“Thank you, Captain Bianchi. Will comply.”
The two big ships separated, and, when Chris Jackson got helm control back, he cut the Harold M. Beecher’s acceleration to 0.8 gravities. The loadmaster waited for the Otto Stauss to pull ahead enough to unlatch container blocks and let them fall astern.
Chris Jackson was watching his displays. Two big ships that close under human control made him nervous. The big carrier was sliding ahead of them faster now, and they were still separating slowly in the horizontal direction.
Jackson’s eyes got big, and he called Linden over.
“Uh, Sir,” Jackson said, and pointed to his screen.
Sliding across the camera view, in letters ten feet high, it read HMS ILLUSTRIOUS.
Linden put his hand on Jackson’s shoulder. Jackson looked up at him. Linden had a finger to his lips.
“Shhhh.”
Jackson nodded.
The Harold M. Beecher had dropped the blocks of containers for two complete reloads of the Otto Stauss behind her, and was now lined up behind the Otto Stauss.
“Confirmed, Captain Bianchi. We’re ready for departure.”
“All right, Captain Linden. On the mark in ten minutes.”
“Very well, Captain Bianchi. Good sailing.”
“And to you, Captain Linden. And thanks for the groceries.”
In five minutes, the Otto Stauss projected its hypergate and cut its engines. Jackson had his entry timed to a fare-thee-well, and the Harold M. Beecher hit the hypergate five minutes later. Never good to transition until the hypergate had stabilized.
But all went well, and the Harold M. Beecher transitioned into hyperspace, leaving the uninhabited star system, a bunch of extra supplies, and the restocked HMS Illustrious behind.
“Chris, leave the QE system off until we get to Alexa. And erase all navigation and camera files from this trip just before you turn it on.”
“Yes, Sir. Making a note of it.”
It was a week’s spacing back to Alexa before Captain Linden could report Mission Accomplished to Bernd Stauss. Stauss sent a message to Section Six, which caused Ann Turley to place a VR call to Daniel Parnell.
“Yes, Governor Turley.”
“I just heard that the Illustrious was resupplied a week ago, Your Majesty, and I thought you’d want to know. The Stauss people left two reloads with her as well.”
“Very good, Governor Turley. Thank you for letting me know.”
All navigation and video records of the Harold M. Beecher’s voyage were destroyed after the ship dropped out of hyperspace in the Alexa system and before the QE system was restarted.
There would be no remaining evidence of any kind as to the whereabouts of the HMS Illustrious.
Contretemps And Confession
“Be seated, Mr. Hayes.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Mr. Hayes, I have been considering what to do about my errant sector governors. Do you have any input on this issue, now that we’ve gotten to where we are?”
“You could execute a couple of them for treason, Sire. That would sort of make the point, I think.”
“That’s the second time I’ve received that advice, Mr. Hayes. You don’t think that’s a little extreme?”
“The consequences of trifling with the Throne are usually severe, Sire. That’s what keeps people from doing it.”
“I see.”
Goulet looked down at his hands for several minutes. Hayes perforce waited. Finally, Goulet drew a deep breath and looked up at Hayes.
“Perhaps something a bit less, um, demonstrative at this point, Mr. Hayes. Suggestions?”
“You could let them know of your disappointment, Sire. An expression of disappointment from the Throne is pretty compelling.”
“Let’s do that, Mr. Hayes. Can you draw up something for me that you consider appropriate?”
“Of course, Sire.”
Hawking, Sounder, Thornton, Lewis, and Montefiore were meeting in VR. The five sector governors had received, as all sector governors had, the Emperor’s expression of disappointment with their written input. Hawking read a portion of it aloud.
“This is the key portion, I think. ’Thank you for your statement of those changes in Imperial policy you desire in order to better serve yourself. I would also be interested in receiving your input on those changes in Imperial policy you desire in order to better serve the people of your sector.’”
“Ouch,” Lewis said. “That’s not good.”
“Yes,” Montefiore said. “It makes my collar feel tight.”
“Nonsense,” Sounder said. “I think it’s pro forma. We know Goulet agrees with us on these policy changes. He’s been supportive of something of the sort for years. Our mistake was in not providing any argument for why those changes would be of benefit to the people. He has to have all the Ts crossed and Is dotted to put through policy changes like that.”
“Do you think that’s it?” Thornton asked. “Or has the view from the top changed his perspective?”
“I think we must at least consider what Governor Sounder is saying,” Hawking said. “Jerome Goulet has been on the Throne for less than three months. Would the attitudes and positions he developed over fifteen years as a sector governor be so quick to change so radically? Or is he merely trying to appease the staff at the Imperial Palace?”
Sounder was nodding.
“Yes, that’s it. That’s it exactly,” she sa
id.
“Well, that makes sense to me,” Thornton said. “But what do we do about it?”
“We can’t just say, ‘No, thank you, Your Majesty,’” Lewis said. “That wouldn’t go over very well.”
“No, no, we can’t do that, Joshua,” Hawking said. “I think what we ought to do is send His Majesty what he apparently wants, which is justification for why the changes we have asked for are actually in the best interests of the people of our sectors.”
“But they aren’t,” Montefiore said. “You know that, Bryan.”
“I know no such thing,” Hawking said. “I think they are, and I think we should make that argument.”
“Do you want me to make a start on those arguments, and then we can all get together again and tweak them up?” Sounder asked.
“Yes, Beth. Why don’t you do that and we’ll get together again and finalize them.”
“Be seated, Mr. Hayes.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Well, Mr. Hayes, I’ve heard from the sector governors, and they’ve doubled down.”
“They have, Sire?”
“Not all of them, Mr. Hayes. Most of them, in fact, sent me notes saying, effectively, ‘Never mind. We don’t really have any changes in Imperial policy we would recommend at this time.’”
“And the rest, Sire?”
“They have sent me long-winded explanations of why, in fact, the changes they’ve requested previously are in the best interests of the people of their sector.”
“Really, Sire. Those must make fascinating reading.”
“No, Mr. Hayes. They’re all gobbledygook. Circular reasoning, arguing from assumptions not in evidence, all that sort of thing. They would make a case study for an analysis of faulty reasoning.”
“And the sector governors who put these forward, Sire?”
“They’re the ones you would expect, Mr. Hayes. Hawking, Sounder, and their coterie.”
“What will you do now, Sire?”
“I have already sent all the sector governors notice that I am canceling the meetings, Mr. Hayes. To the group that submitted such drivel, the note included my finding that their submissions were ludicrous on their face and are rejected.”
“I think that’s a wise move, Sire.”
“’Your submission is ludicrous on its face and is summarily rejected. The planned meetings have been canceled for lack of substantive points to discuss.’ Ouch,” Lewis said.
“Indeed,” Hawking said. “That is unexpected. Apparently the view from the top has changed Mr. Goulet’s attitudes on these matters. Most unfortunate.”
“I’m beginning to regret our choice of candidate,” Sounder said.
“I as well, but what’s done is done,” Montefiore said.
“Perhaps so,” Hawking said. “Let me think about it. There has as yet been no coronation.”
“I don’t even want to go there,” Lewis said. “That’s the kind of talk that gets visits from the Imperial Guard. Short visits.”
“As I say, let me think about it,” Hawking said. “I don’t intend that we should do anything rash.”
“Good, because I think we’re dancing on the edge of the cliff here, and I for one don’t want to go over the edge.”
Goulet, with no other confidant to talk to, asked Amanda Peters to meet with him again. With the notes back and forth to the sector governors, considering his messages to them and waiting for their responses, it had been a couple of weeks since their last meeting. Once again they met in channel 22, the VR simulation of the Emperor’s office.
“Be seated, Ms. Peters.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“After our last meeting, Ms. Peters, I asked the sector governors to submit ideas that would be of benefit to the people of their sector.”
“From your tone, I take it that didn’t work out, Sire.”
“That’s correct, Ms. Peters. Most people simply withdrew their submissions and said they couldn’t suggest any changes.”
“But not the Five Musketeers, I suspect, Sire.”
“No, Ms. Peters. They doubled down. They provided long arguments as to why their requests for changes were in the best interests of their people.”
“And the quality of their arguments, Sire?”
“Complete rubbish. You could write a scholarly treatise on fallacious reasoning with their arguments as your sole subject matter.”
Peters nodded.
“You expected this, Ms. Peters?”
“Yes, Sire. Treason unanswered is treason emboldened. They’re not done. Their next step will be to move against you more openly. And to recruit others.”
“And your answer is execution, Ms. Peters?”
“Yes, Sire. Not only does it stop the problem, it sends a message to others. And then, for a while, it is quiet.”
“For a while, Ms. Peters?”
“Yes, Sire. For a while. Then people forget, or new people are appointed as others retire, and the scenario plays itself out again, along some other line. The Emperor and the sector governors are structural antagonists.”
“I didn’t feel that way, Ms. Peters.”
“You are an exceptional man, Your Majesty. One of Bobby’s best sector governors, in his opinion. Not since Eugene Derwinsky retired has there been an equal. And it is not every sector governor, not all the time. But the tension is always there, and the occasional sector governor or group of them will test the Throne. It happens every ten to fifteen years or so. And the Throne wins. The Throne always wins.”
“So this is ongoing, Ms. Peters?”
“Yes, Sire. And that was against Bobby, who was no one to trifle with.”
Goulet sighed.
“Is there no place for consensus government, then, Ms. Peters?”
“Perhaps, Sire, but this isn’t that place. The Emperor – of Sintar then and the Galactic Empire now – is an absolute dictatorship. You are dictator. It is your position to say, ‘You, do this. You, do that. This is how we’re going to do things. These are my rules,’ and everyone else says, ‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
“The people of the Democracy of Planets thought that was awful. They had their sham democracy, and felt like they had some control over things. But they were actually ruled by oligarchs from behind the scenes, oligarchs who had no visibility, and therefore no responsibility.
“An Emperor is different. If you screw it up, you’ll go down in history as the guy who screwed it up. If you do a good job, you’ll go down in history as the guy who did a good job. There is no escaping that. And for all the DP’s democratic institutions, if you asked people ‘Do you think the government cares about you and wants the best for you?’ Bobby’s dictatorship consistently outpolled the DP’s ‘democratic’ government, by a lot. Double the favorables, in fact.
“His natural concern over his legacy is also why the Emperor chooses his own successor. He is the only person who truly understands what it is to be Emperor. He is also the only person who has no stake in the game other than his own reputation. When his Heir takes over, he will already be gone. His stake in the game is to do as well as he can in picking a successor, because that is part of his legacy as well as his own performance.”
“And, despite my skills as sector governor and Emperor Trajan’s high opinion of those skills, Ms. Peters, I was not his choice of Heir.”
“No, Your Majesty. It’s a different skill set. One that, I’m afraid, you don’t have.”
“I’m beginning to believe you, Ms. Peters.”
Peters had expected pushback. Now, for the first time, there was none. Her surprise must have shown.
“I understood being sector governor, Ms. Peters. I was good at it because I understood it. I had a rule book of sorts, from the Emperor. The things I was allowed to do and not do. I had a goal – do the best I could for my people within the rules that I was given. I sometimes chafed at those rules, saw something I thought would be good but was not permitted. Structural antagonists, as you say. They
weren’t necessarily the rules I would have put down, but they formed the environment within which I operated.
“Here though, in this position, there are no rules. None at all. I make the rules. And now that I do, I have no insight into what they should be, or, even worse, my instincts are just plain wrong.”
Goulet looked at his hands, folded on his desk, for several minutes. Peters waited, thinking through everything he had said. Was this the time? Or was it early? Did she jeopardize the whole project by acting now, or would waiting be worse?
Goulet sighed and looked back up at her.
“But for all that, we are still caught where we are, Ms. Peters. The box the Five Musketeers, as you call them, put us in. I can’t step down, and I can’t succeed. What are we to do?”
It was his use of the first person plural in that last question that decided her.
“We do have another path, Your Majesty.”
“What is that, Ms. Peters? Because I don’t see it.”
“You could abdicate the Throne, Sire.”
“In favor of whom, Ms. Peters? I can’t leave the Throne empty, for the sector governors to decide.”
“No, Sire. There is another choice. For the Illustrious was not lost, and Daniel Parnell still lives.”
Goulet started like he’d been slapped.
“What! Where? How?”
“Where I won’t tell you, Sire. Not yet. How? Through my own machinations, I’m afraid. I would avoid civil war at any cost, and that’s where we were heading. There is still a grave danger of it even now. But, if we work together, you and I, we can succeed in putting on the Throne someone who has been trained to do the job, and selected by Bobby as his best chance for a good successor.”
Goulet’s shoulders slumped.
“And what happens to me, then, Ms. Peters? How do I go down in history? As a fool? A clown?”
“I don’t think so, Sire. That is something we control.”
“We do, Ms. Peters?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. For history is written by the winners.”
EMPIRE: Succession Page 13
