Alien Empire
Page 41
“I propose… a republic of the galaxy.”
The air hung tense and silent.
Ozerov looked shocked, then thoughtful. He turned to the members of the Presidium. “Be seated,” he said, and they took their places in solemn unison.
He turned to Karden.
“We are powerless to stop you, but what you propose is infinitely preferable to chaos.” I think such a government will take time to organize. We here can, as you state, help, though how or where is a matter of some question. I presume you propose your planet Ground as its capital?”
There were murmurs around the chamber.
Karden didn’t see that it needed a capital. With rift communications and a minimalist government mostly there to keep interstellar peace, he thought things could be run by network. Then again, it would have psychological power, as symbols did. In particular, the choice would mean a lot to these, and all the other Elders, however little real difference it made.
“I propose Earth as the capital.”
The room fell quiet. Ozerov spoke again.
“By republic, I presume you mean an elected executive and some sort of parliamentary body, like this one, but derived from a far… wider base. However, such things will also take time. Interim leadership will be needed…”
He watched Karden, as if waiting for something.
The room was silent, tension electric. Even outside, the fighting seemed to have finally stopped. Ozerov was still looking at Karden, and the Presidium Members on their benches were as well. All of them, waiting.
He looked around, and his troops were tense. They fingered their guns, but their eyes, many forms of eyes, watched him, waiting. What in all slag, Karden thought, were they all waiting for?
///
Among the ranks of Presidium Members sat a tall trim man with light brown hair turning to gray, and a gun at his side. In his hundred and seventy years of life, Federico Laursen had never imagined a moment like this.
Since the destruction of the Grand Fleet, final defeat, unknown to the Elders since they’d taken their first interstellar steps over nine thousand years earlier, had been a real possibility. He’d thought the enemy would come with their own form of Retrogression, and annihilate the most ancient civilization in the galaxy.
Yet, here was the leader of the rebellion himself, in person, with his helmet visor up, face exposed and unprotected. Laursen had expected him to seize the podium and proclaim himself some kind of autocrat, like the last rulers of the old Imperium. Instead, he had proposed a galactic republic, inclusive of the Elders and with Earth as its capital!
And even then, the man seemed unaware of what everyone else in the vast chamber, Presidium Members and rebel troops in their thousands, knew. What kind of man, wondered Laursen, could be so oblivious to the power before him?
The rebel soldiers were increasingly on edge, and heavily armed. At any moment, they could explode. The galaxy could have peace now, or a thousand dead Presidium Members and a ground war across thousands of worlds. He might be the first of those dead, if he was wrong. But, he thought, he was a Presidium Member, and would do his duty.
Laursen stood up. Guns in startled nervous hands turned his way.
He spoke.
“I nominate Professor Haral Karden for interim Galactic leader.”
“WHAT?” said Karden with a start, all thought momentarily driven from his mind.
Ozerov was quicker.
“Presidium Member Laursen nominates Professor Haral Karden for interim Galactic Leader, until such time as a galactic government agreeable to… all present here… can be formed. I second this nomination. All present, your votes?”
The room exploded with cheers, noise, and activity. Presidium Members solemnly raised their hands. What might have been relief showed in the slightest expressions on their faces. Karden’s troops cheered, roared, squawked, and clicked with joy. It went on for some time.
Karden stood in dumb shock.
When at last the noise died down, Ozerov, with long skill at handling crowds, raised his hands for emphasis, and spoke.
“I, Heinrich Ozerov, four hundred twenty third, and last, Speaker of the Galactic Central Presidium, hereby resign my position. Haral Karden, as interim Galactic Leader, the floor is yours.”
The cheers roared anew, on and on.
Karden shrugged, and walked toward the podium. As he went his first thought, considering the dangers that might still loom, was that he should give Fleet Admiral Shirazi a call. His second thought was, ruefully, of the workload ahead of him.
He wondered if he should have retired after all.
END
About the Author
Thanks for purchasing this book!
Anthony Gillis is the child of hippie adventurer parents, and lived on his father’s sailboat, an island off the coast of Costa Rica, a converted school bus, and a ramshackle house in Ft. Lauderdale with a leaky roof and a sand yard, before settling down to something resembling a normal childhood. Somehow, all that made him decide to enlist and serve in the United States Air Force, and then earn a bachelor’s degree in history and an MBA. He worked in accounting and finance for many years prior to becoming a full time writer.
A lifelong voracious reader, his influences are wide-ranging, but include J.R.R. Tolkien, Robert E. Howard, C.S. Forester, and Ayn Rand. He is the author of several books, including the epic Storm and Fire fantasy series, science fiction novel Alien Empire, pirate adventure Jamaica Rum, and the dark sword and sorcery tales of Blood on Bronze.
More information on the author and his works can be found at anthonygillis.com
Other Books by the Author
THE STORM’S OWN SON – Heir to mighty gifts of power. Chosen by no fate. Guided by no one. Bound by no destiny. As the world will soon learn.
Talaos is a tough young man in a vast, ages-old city. Orphaned in the teeth of a storm at sea, his origins lie in lands far to the north. A rising gangster on the rough streets he calls home, he lives by his blades. A trail of blood and broken hearts lies behind him and an unknown future ahead. Wondering what more life might have to offer, he feels the call of change. When an immortal sorcerer sends acolytes to kill him, he discovers his true nature.
His roots are far older and deeper than he ever imagined. His choices will lead farther than he ever thought possible.
BLOOD ON BRONZE –They kicked in his front door. They took his family and seized his business. Powerful and corrupt, they fear nothing from one young man.
Zakran, vast and wicked city of a thousand thousands, is the center of the world and a dangerous place. All the wealth, all the magic, all the good and evil that men and other thinking can folk do finds its way there, one way or another. Arjun is a skilled bronze smith, and a young man who has little idea how to express himself outside his work. Inina is a beautiful rogue who survives by her wits and shady friends. Bal-Shim is a smiling and suddenly prominent man, loved by rich and poor alike.
Once in motion, some things cannot be undone, as they will all discover. Join them, and enter an ancient world of danger, deceit, bloodshed and sorcery.
JAMAICA RUM – Freedom, wealth, and power… or the hangman’s noose?
1672. The Caribbean. Diego Cargrave is a merchant sailor, and as master gunner's mate, an officer of sorts, though not much of one on a small ship with only two cannon. Life offers many risks and scant prospects. He feels restless, and begins to wonder what might be the cure. When he spots a ship approaching, he suspects trouble and warns his captain. When the ship runs out guns, and runs up the black flag, he and his crew mates ready for battle.
He is startled to find he welcomes it, and the prospects now before him.
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