Glass Empires

by Various

  “Welcome, Ambassador,” Spock said. “We are alone. We may dispense with formalities.”

  Sarek nodded. “As you wish.” Gesturing to a pair of large chairs on either side of a low, broad table, he added, “Shall we sit down?”

  Spock nodded his assent and sat down opposite his father, who took a small holographic projection cell from his robes and set it on the table. The device activated with a small buzzing sound, and a complex document, written in High Vulcan, scrolled in glowing letters on the air, several centimeters above the dark tabletop. “Before we begin,” Sarek said, “I wish to ask: Are you still committed to your plan of reform?”

  “Indeed,” Spock said. “My objective remains the same.”

  Nodding, Sarek explained, “You would not be the first head of state to amend his agenda after taking office.” He sighed. “No matter. If you are ready, we should proceed.”

  “Agreed,” Spock said.

  His father leaned forward and manipulated the elements in the holographic projection with his fingertips. “The key to a successful transition will be to effect your reforms by degrees,” he said. “A shrewd first move would be to increase the autonomy and direct control of the regional governors.”

  Moving a few items along the timeline, Spock replied, “An excellent idea. The erosion of imperial executive power will be subtle, but the governors will not object because they benefit.”

  “Exactly,” Sarek said. “And it will pave the way for your first major reform: the creation of a Common Forum, for popularly elected representatives from each world in the Empire. You should expect the governors to object vehemently to this.”

  “Of course,” Spock said. “It will be a direct affront to their authority. I presume that I will pretend to appease them by suggesting they appoint their own representatives to the newly reconstituted Imperial Senate.”

  “It will mollify them briefly,” Sarek acknowledged. “Granting authority for drafting legislation to both the Forum and the Senate will turn them into rivals for power.”

  “And they will vie for my approval by drafting competing bills,” Spock predicted. “I will then censure both for wasting my time with duplicated efforts, and force them to work together by declaring that I will only review legislation that they have approved jointly.”

  After a moment’s thought, Sarek replied, “A curious tactic.” He adjusted more items in the complex predictive timeline. “You will give them incentive to align against you.”

  “Yes,” Spock said. “Fortunately, the conflicts in their interests will make that difficult for them.” He pointed out another item on the timeline. “I should retain plenary executive authority long enough to liberate the imperial judiciary into a separate but equal branch of government.”

  Sarek made a few final changes to the timeline, then looked up at Spock. “With your permission, I should like to turn now to matters of foreign policy.” Spock nodded his consent. Sarek touched a control on the holographic emitter and changed the image above the table to another timeline, this one superimposed over a star chart of local space. “Your proposition of détente as an official platform for imperial policy still troubles me.”

  He had expected his father’s reservations, and was prepared to address them. “Nonaggression does not equal surrender, Sarek. We will continue to defend our borders from external threats. Only our approach to the growth and maintenance of the Empire will change.” Pointing to the map, he continued. “A diplomatic invitation convinced Coridan to join the Empire of its own accord. Renouncing conquest and annexation as our chief modes of expansion will earn us the trust of more worlds, and enable us to expand by enticement rather than by extortion.”

  Spock waited while Sarek mulled that argument. The older man got up from his chair and paced across the room, then behind the desk, where he stood looking out the window for a minute. When he finally turned back toward Spock, his expression was darkened with concern. He spoke with careful diction, as if vetting each word’s nuance before it passed his lips. “Spock, I have supported your call for reforms, because I know that they are necessary. However, the subtext of your recent proposals compels me to inquire: Is there more to your long-term plan than you have told me?”

  “Yes, Father,” Spock said. “The true scope of my reforms is more drastic than I have said so far.”

  Raising one eyebrow to convey both his skepticism and his annoyance, Sarek prompted him, “Go on.”

  “Preemptive war will be renounced as an instrument of policy,” Spock said.

  Sarek nodded. “I had assumed as much.”

  “Before I begin my final reforms, I will issue an imperial edict delineating a broad spectrum of inalienable rights for all sentient beings in the Empire,” Spock said. “These rights will be comprehensive and will serve to greatly empower the individual at the expense of the state.” He pointed at a data slate on the desktop. “A draft of the edict is there.”

  His father picked up the data slate and perused the document. With each passing moment, his grimace tightened, and the creases of worry on his forehead deepened. “Freedom of expression,” he mumbled, reading from the device in his hand. “Rights of privacy…security from warrantless search or seizure.” He set down the electronic tablet on the desk. “The governors will not stand for this.”

  “Irrelevant,” Spock said, “as I intend to abolish their offices and replace them with elected presidents, their powers curtailed by law. Then, I will abolish the Empire itself. The Forum and the Senate will be given the right to elect one of their own as Consul, and the power to remove such an individual with a simple no-confidence vote when necessary. And at that time, I shall step down as Emperor, and cede my power to a lawfully constituted republic.”

  “Madness,” Sarek said, his cherished mask of stoicism faltering. Spock realized that his father’s anger and fear must be overwhelming for them to be so apparent. Stepping from behind the desk, Sarek crossed the room in quick strides to confront Spock. “My son, do you not see this is a recipe for disaster?” Disregarding all dictums of imperial protocol, he grasped Spock by his arms. “A republic without strong leadership from the top will be too slow to survive in this astropolitical arena. While the Forum argues, the Klingons will slaughter us. So will the Romulans, the Cardassians, the Tholians.” His fingers clenched, talonlike, on Spock’s biceps. “You will be writing the Empire’s requiem with the blood of generations to come, Spock. What good will their freedoms be when they are dead?”

  A single withering glare from Spock convinced Sarek to remove his hands from the arms of his son, the Emperor.

  Spock answered calmly, with the conviction that came from knowing the endgame that so far had eluded even Sarek’s keen foresight. “There is only one antidote to tyranny, Father, and that is freedom. Not the illusion of freedom, not the promise of freedom. Genuine freedom. When too much power concentrates in one person, civilization slips out of balance. Give the people real freedom, and the real power that comes with it, and no force of oppression will ever be equal to them again.”

  Sarek folded his hands together inside the deep, drooping sleeves of his robe. He paced away from Spock, his expression stern and telegraphing his pessimism. “It will take many decades to complete even your preliminary reforms,” he said. “As for issuing your edict and erecting a republic on the ruins of the Empire…such fundamental changes in the status quo will take generations to enact.”

  “They cannot,” Spock said gravely. “We do not have that much time.”

  Part II

  Sic Transit Imperium

  2284

  7

  Hearts and Minds

  T he echoes of Spock’s voice faded away into the vastness of the Common Forum, and for a moment stretched by anticipation, all was silent. He had delivered his proclamation of citizens’ rights, uninterrupted, to a sea of stunned faces. It was done now, and it could not be undone, and there was naught to do but wait in the heavy swell of anxious quietude for the reaction.<
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  A roar of applause surged up from the members of the Forum, a wave of sound like floodwater breaking against a dam. Exultant and energized, the thousands of gathered representatives from worlds throughout the Empire stood and applauded and chanted his name with almost-idolatrous fervor. Stomping feet rumbled the hall, which once had been the imperial throne room. Its lower level now was packed on three sides with tiers of seats for the Forum members, and its spacious balconies had been converted to a gallery for citizen observers, or for the Senate during joint sessions of the Legislature such as this one.

  In the balconies above, faces grim and forbidding communicated the Senate’s reaction. Like mannequins of stone, its members looked down with ashen-faced horror at the populist turn their government had just taken. A few shook their heads in dis-belief. Spock presumed that they were unable to comprehend why he would have chosen to give more power to the citizenry than to himself. In all likelihood, he knew, they would never understand. Regardless, the one power that Spock still reserved for himself was that his word carried the absolute force of law.

  He let the applause wash over him for a moment, not because he enjoyed it but because it would help cement this moment in the minds of those hundreds of billions of citizens throughout the Empire who would be watching it on the subspace feed. This was a threshold moment for their society, and he knew that it would be important for them to have the requisite time to absorb its full importance. Nearly two minutes elapsed as the cheering and applause continued unabated. Sensing that the moment had run its course, Spock bowed his head to the Legislature. As thousands of arms were extended in salutary reply, he withdrew from the podium in the center of the Forum and departed, surrounded by his elite Vulcan guard, through the rear exit.

  Marlena was waiting for him in the turbolift, which carried them to their private residence on the uppermost level. She clutched his arm tenderly. “You were magnificent,” she said softly. He glanced in her direction and saw her smile.

  “Most kind,” he said, his old habit of understated humility intact despite more than seven years of imperial privilege.

  The turbolift doors opened, and they exited to their airy, sunlit residence. Sarek stood in the doorway to their parlor, flanked by two more of the elite Vulcan guards. “Your address went well,” Sarek said as Spock and Marlena passed him.

  “As well as could be expected,” Spock replied over his shoulder to Sarek, who followed him into the parlor.

  The guards closed the double doors behind Sarek, giving Spock at least a modicum of privacy with his wife and father. Marlena and Spock sat next to one another in matching, heavy wooden chairs. Sarek sat to Spock’s right, at the corner of a long sofa. All three of them were aware of the servants hovering just out of sight at all times, and they kept their voices low. “You’ve won the hearts of the people,” Sarek said. “But the elites are already conspiring against you.”

  “Enemies are a consequence of politics,” Spock said.

  Folding his hands in his lap, Sarek replied, “Your reign will not last forever, Spock. The most probable consequence of your latest action is that you will be assassinated by someone acting on behalf of your political opponents.”

  “I am aware of my rivals’ ambitions,” Spock said. He motioned a servant to come closer as he continued. “However, I do not consider them to be a risk.” A female servant gracefully and unobtrusively took her place in front of the trio. To her, Spock said, “Plasska tea, service for three.” With a genteel murmur of “Yes, Your Majesty,” the servant slipped away.

  Sarek waited until the woman was well out of earshot before he spoke. “Spock, the threat posed by your rivals is not a trivial one. If you are killed or deposed, your progressive regime will almost certainly be replaced by one of a decidedly reactionary temperament.”

  The cool demeanors of the two Vulcan men made Marlena’s undercurrent of anger all the more palpable by comparison. “His assassins will not succeed,” she said forcefully to Sarek. “I will see to that.”

  Expressing his incredulity with one raised eyebrow, Sarek asked, “And how will you do that, my dear? With what resources?”

  “I am not without means, Sarek,” she retorted hotly. “This would not be the first—” Spock silenced her outburst with a gentle press of his palm on the back of her hand. Marlena took his admonition to heart and pursed her lips while suppressing the rest of what she had intended to say.

  It was Spock’s opinion that Sarek need never be told of the Tantalus field device, or of the role it had played in Spock’s assumption of power. It had been a terrible risk revealing its existence to Saavik, but his long-term plans for her had made it crucial to test her loyalty as early as possible.

  Silence reigned over the parlor until the tea was delivered and poured. All three of them sipped from their cups, and nodded their approval to themselves. Then Sarek set down his cup and, once again with a conspirator’s hushed voice, continued the conversation. “Let us assume,” he said, “that your wife is correct, and that assassins pose no threat to you. Even if you succeed in your goal of abolishing the Empire, once you place its fate into the hands of a representative government, it will almost certainly be corrupted from within. The Senate will be first among those looking to consolidate their power; they will learn how to manipulate popular sentiment and fill the Common Forum with their own partisans. Gradually at first, then more boldly, they will steer the republic back toward totalitarianism. Ultimately, they will elect one of their own as dictator-for-life…and the Empire you are laboring to end will be reborn. The rights you granted to the people will be revoked; they will resist, and rebel, and be brutally suppressed. Civil war will rend the Empire, and its enemies will exploit that division to conquer us outright. All that you have done will have been for naught, my son.”

  Spock finished his own tea and set down the empty cup. “All that you predict, I have anticipated,” he said. Leaning back in his chair, he continued. “That is why the republic must be destroyed by its enemies before it lapses back into empire.”

  The statement seemed to perplex Sarek. “What beneficial end would that accomplish?”

  “Liberty crushed by one’s own government carries the poison of betrayal,” Spock said. “If so extinguished, it will be almost impossible to rekindle, and our cause shall be lost. But freedom lost to conquest focuses the people’s anger outward, and unites them in common cause against a foreign oppressor.”

  “You intend to let the republic fall?” Sarek asked. Upon Spock’s nod of confirmation, he continued. “A dangerous gamble. What if such a rebellion fails to materialize? Or simply fails? Staking the future of our civilization on the success of an insurgency seems a most foolish proposition.”

  As Spock rose from his chair, Sarek did likewise. Spock turned toward Marlena. “Will you excuse us a moment?” Marlena cast wary looks at both Spock and Sarek, then got up and walked with prideful calm from the parlor. Once she was in the next room, and the door closed behind her, Spock said loudly, for the servants lurking in the wings, “Leave us.” Like spooked mice, the domestics scurried away. A clatter of closing doors marked their exits. Able to speak in full privacy at last, Spock still whispered. “Steps will be taken to ensure the success of the rebellion,” he said. “The groundwork for an insurgency will be laid now, while we have time to prepare in safety. If my plan is successful, the Klingon-led occupation of the former Terran Empire will last fewer than one hundred fifteen Earth years.”

  With unconcealed suspicion, Sarek said, “And if it fails?”

  “Then several millennia of Vulcan and human scientific achievement will be lost forever.”

  “And what are these steps you’re going to take?”

  “Not I,” Spock said. “You.”

  8

  Omega’s Genesis

  A fter living seven years as a virtual prisoner in the imperial residence, Emperor Spock appreciated the luxury of returning to a starship. Recent refits had made them faster, more comfor
table, and more powerful than ever before.

  At his behest, the Enterprise, now in its seventh year under the command of Captain Kevin Riley, had been standing by to beam up Spock from the palace after his meeting with Sarek. With the Empire devolving into chaos following his declaration of rights and freedoms for the people, it had seemed like an opportune time to slip away. During his absence, Marlena would reign as Empress, freeing him to make this journey incognito.

  Liberating as his departure was, it carried an element of risk that he hadn’t faced in close to seventeen years. For the first time since he had slain Captain Kirk, he was without the protection of the Tantalus field device, which remained safely concealed in his and Marlena’s private quarters on Earth. Fortunately, the judicious use of the device over the years had cultivated such a profound culture of fear with respect to Spock’s purported psionic powers that it was unlikely he would be challenged during this brief sojourn from the throne.

  The bosun’s whistle sounded over the ship’s intercom.

  “Attention, all hands. Stand by for secure transport. Captain Riley, please report to the bridge.”

  As the channel closed, the door signal buzzed. Turning to face the door, Spock said, “Enter.”

  The door slid open, and the ship’s first officer, Commander Saavik, stepped inside. “Your Majesty,” she said with a reverent bow of her head, then she looked up and delivered the formal salute. He noted that she avoided making eye contact with him, and her demeanor seemed stiff.

  “At ease,” he told his former protégée. “Is it time?”

  “Yes, Majesty,” she said. “The facility has been prepared, and a secure transport conduit is standing by.”

  “Then let us proceed,” he said. Saavik nodded and led the way out the door into the corridor. Spock followed her. A pair of his elite Vulcan bodyguards fell into step a few paces behind him. Moving until he was almost parallel with Saavik, he said in a confidential tone, “You seem preoccupied.”