EMPIRE: Resistance

by Richard F. Weyand

  “Long live the Emperor and Empress,” Destin said.

  Baden Sector Governor Manfred von Hesse was in his office that Monday. He was unexpectedly light-hearted. It had been twelve days since his meeting with Their Majesties. On this Monday morning, he had no disasters to worry about, no schemes in the air, no machinations, no devious plans. All of that was exhausting and nerve-wracking. Instead he went about the business of administering the sector, a job he knew well and enjoyed.

  Frank Portman, his brother-in-law and long-time chief of staff, came in with a stack of papers.

  “Morning, Frank,” von Hesse said.

  “Good morning, sir. You sound very chipper this morning.”

  “Indeed I am. You know, I used to enjoy this job. I’m finding I do, once again.”

  “Well, I hate to be sour news, then. You may not like this.”

  Portman handed von Hesse a paper document, rather than pushing him an electronic version. Some documents von Hesse liked to hold. Especially ones like this, with the Imperial seal on the top. It seemed to give them more weight.

  “Imperial Finding, eh?” von Hesse asked. “No more trade barriers or tariffs within the Empire. Well, that’s to be expected, after all.”

  “You’re not upset about it, sir?”

  “What? No. No, not at all. As I say, it was to be expected. And I suspect many of our citizens will like this policy change a great deal. Even some of the wealthy ones, like Franz Becker.”

  “It means corporate contributions to, um, certain individuals and activities may drop off, sir.”

  “Oh, I suspect they’ll stop completely, Frank. That’s all right. All those people have enough money already. Myself included.”

  Von Hesse was interrupted by a VR call. He held up a finger to Portman and took it. After a few minutes, he dropped out of VR, and gave his attention back to Portman.

  “That was Fleet Admiral Isabella De Luca. She just received orders placing her under the command of Imperial Navy Fleet Headquarters on Center. Sector governors will no longer be in the chain of command.”

  “That’s a surprise, sir.”

  “No, it’s not, Frank. I expected that, too. The Throne is back in command, of the military and of Imperial policy. That is, over the long term, how it has usually been, and how it probably should be.”

  “So you won’t fight it, sir?”

  “No. I have my own job to do, Frank. Policy is up to Their Majesties, and I will stick to my knitting.”

  Von Hesse looked up at his chief of staff.

  “It’s considerably safer.”

  Royalty And Power

  Alfred Rottenburg was not what one would call stupid. He paid attention as well, following news out of the Imperial Palace and the sector capitals. When Rottenburg saw the Palace’s press release announcing the Imperial Finding that tariffs and embargos amounted to an illegal tax, he expected all hell to break loose.

  But it didn’t.

  Curious, Rottenburg looked to see if he could find any reactions to the change, beginning with Baden Sector Governor von Hesse. He could usually be trusted to offer some counterpoint to Imperial policy changes.

  Von Hesse’s statement was solid support of the Throne’s move. He went on to say it would result in lower prices for goods imported from other sectors, and wider markets for Baden Sector’s exports. ‘Baden Sector can compete with anyone in the Empire as long as everyone is guaranteed a level playing field. With this Imperial Finding, Their Majesties have seen to that.’

  Fascinating.

  Rottenburg looked up other sector governors who could usually be trusted for– not exactly negative statements about Throne policy changes, but cautionary ones at least.

  Nope. Not a one. Not even from his own sector governor, Miklos Horvat, who tended to track with von Hesse and his crew. Solid support, across the board.

  Rottenburg thought about it for several days, and couldn’t let it go. He knew Horvat, socially, at least. He was based here in the sector capital planet of Kaukana, in the capital city of Keskus. Rottenburg knew him at least well enough to call him and see if he could get him to clue him in on what was going on.

  Rottenburg had little difficulty getting through Horvat’s secretary and sent a meeting request to Horvat. He responded about an hour later.

  “Mr. Rottenburg. How are you doing today?”

  “Excellent, Governor Horvat. And you?”

  “Very well, Mr. Rottenburg. And how can I help you today?”

  “I had a question, Governor Horvat. Various sector governors have, at various times, been critical of policy changes from the Throne. You yourself have sometimes questioned the wisdom of some of them. Yet, on the most recent Imperial policy change, the Imperial Finding that trade embargos and tariffs within Imperial borders are illegal, I find a uniform support for the Throne’s new policy. I find that curious.”

  “Policy is properly the role of the Throne, Mr. Rottenburg. Sector governor is an administrative position. Their Majesties emphasized this point to me personally in our meeting last week. Milady Empress was persuasive on the subject.”

  Oh, ho! So that was it. The Emperor and Empress had had meetings with the sector governors where they had laid down the law. Well, that would do it.

  “I understand Her Majesty can be quite persuasive, Governor Horvat,” Rottenburg said.

  “That, Mr. Rottenburg, is an understatement of monumental proportions.”

  “And yet every single sector governor was convinced, Governor Horvat. That is a phenomenal accomplishment.”

  “Every sector governor wants a beautiful funeral and glowing eulogies, Mr. Rottenburg, but none of us wants them anytime soon. I will say Her Majesty was surprisingly well informed about activities all across the Empire. Being shut up in the Imperial Palace has not given her tunnel vision.”

  Ouch. Rottenburg was probably not in any danger. Probably. But there were others among the descendants of the former Alliance’s royal households who were likely well over the line. How to work this?

  “It certainly does not pay to ever underestimate the Throne, Governor Horvat. One last question, if I might.”

  “Of course, Mr. Rottenburg.”

  “Were you called to this meeting, or did you request it?”

  “I was strongly urged by my best-informed colleagues to send His Majesty a message requesting a meeting, Mr. Rottenburg. I’m very glad I did.”

  “Thank you, Governor Horvat. I appreciate you taking my call, but I’ve surely taken up enough of your time today.”

  “Of course, Mr. Rottenburg. Good luck.”

  That last was as close as Horvat would come to urging Rottenburg to follow his lead. He didn’t get to be sector governor by being stupid.

  Rottenburg composed a message requesting a meeting with Their Majesties ‘along the lines of Your Majesties’ recent meetings with some of the Empire’s sector governors,’ and sent it off.

  “I received an interesting message this morning,” Ardmore told Burke at breakfast on Thursday.

  “How interesting?” Burke asked.

  “It’s from Alfred Rottenburg, the nth great-grandson and heir of Albert Rottenburg, the last king of The Rim. He asks, and I quote, ‘for a meeting with Your Majesties along the lines of Your Majesties’ recent meetings with some of the Empire’s sector governors.’”

  “Oh, my. He’s put two and two together, has he?”

  “Or he’s been warned by a sector governor,” Ardmore said. “Perhaps some combination of both.”

  “So do we take the meeting, Jimmy?”

  “I would think so. Can you do the powerful Empress bit fifteen more times?”

  Burke sighed.

  “Sure. If I have to,” she said. “I kind of signed up for it, didn’t I?”

  “Yes. We both did. But if we can also quiet the royal heirs, we have narrowed the field of the opposition and strengthened our own team.”

  “OK. I agree with you, Jimmy. Let’s meet with Mr. Rottenburg
.”

  Rottenburg received an acceptance of his meeting request under an Imperial header. The acceptance came from His Majesty himself. The time was set to be convenient for him as well as them. The days in Imperial City and Keskus were six hours apart at present, so for him the meeting would be late afternoon, for them it would be the beginning of the work day. He logged in not knowing what to expect.

  He found himself in a featureless room that held three leather club chairs, one empty facing the other two, in which the Emperor and Empress sat. They were dressed as for the coronation, he in all black, she in a diaphanous chiffon caftan. Both wore their crowns, and she wore the crown jewels of Sintar across her breast.

  “Your Majesties,” Rottenburg said, bowing his head deeply.

  “Be seated, Mr. Rottenburg,” Ardmore said, turning his hand palm upward for a moment on the arm of the club chair.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  As Rottenburg sat, he reflected that his friends who emulated their royal ancestors were merely playing dress-up. Here was real power.

  The Emperor was physically large and powerful. His arms were as big as Rottenburg’s legs. He didn’t so much sit in the big chair as wear it. Yet the more subtle cue, which Rottenburg did not fail to pick up on, was his academic, almost clinical, detachment. He was a student of history, and his regard was a weighing of his subject’s impact and importance on a very large stage.

  He was one thing, but the Empress was on a whole other level. She was a study in the projection of power. Her dress, her posture, her regard, the positioning of her arms and hands. Everything about her radiated power. How much of it was art and how much reality was blurred in the perfection of it.

  Rottenburg’s fellows among the former royal families were pikers, he realized. In the presence of this couple, their efforts to seem important or powerful were ludicrous and pathetic.

  “You asked for this meeting, Mr. Rottenburg,” Ardmore said. “You may proceed.”

  “Thank you, Sire. I am, as you know, the thirteenth great-grandson of Albert Rottenburg, King Albert VI of The Rim, and his heir by right of primogeniture. King Albert abdicated his crown to pledge allegiance to the Throne and annex The Rim to the Empire in the reign of the Emperor Trajan the Great. The other Alliance monarchies did the same, lest they be swallowed up under the rule of the plutocrats of the Democracy of Planets.

  “It seems to me those bonds of allegiance to the Throne have grown frayed with time. Some of my fellows have actively sought to fray those bonds, particularly in the last century, when the rule of weak Emperors inspired separatist ambitions. I myself may have encouraged those efforts.

  “Now, however, we are back again where we once were, with strong rulers on the Throne, and, as I’m sure you know, the plutocrats of the former DP once again a threat. It has caused me to ponder on the past, to reflect on the benefits the Empire has brought to The Rim and to humanity as a whole.

  “I wish, therefore, to renew the allegiance of myself and my line to the Throne and to beg Your Majesties’ mercy with regard to any steps I may have taken which were inimical to that allegiance.”

  Burke regarded him for several long seconds. It was a pretty speech, no doubt about it. To what extent did he mean it? That was an open question. Still, to have made such a speech was a major step.

  Rottenburg watched the Empress regard him. He tried not to shrink from her gaze, but it was very hard. He felt as if she could see right through him. See the things he had said. The things he had done.

  “Do you speak for the others, Mr. Rottenburg?”

  “No, Milady Empress. Only for myself.”

  She nodded once, slowly.

  “Are you prepared to swear obedience to the Throne, Mr. Rottenburg? As King Albert did?”

  “Yes, Milady Empress.”

  The Empress rotated her right hand ninety degrees on the arm of the chair, inviting him to proceed. Rottenburg got to his feet, then knelt before the two of them.

  “I pledge my obedience, Your Majesties.”

  Rottenburg bowed deeply to the seated rulers.

  “Thank you, Mr. Rottenburg,” Burke said.

  Rottenburg got back to his feet and stood, not having been invited to sit.

  “We will provide you with an Imperial Pardon, Mr. Rottenburg – a private one – for all the things you did in the past to demean the Throne. Going forward, however, we will hold you to your oath.

  “We are also giving you an assignment, to carry back to your fellows this merciful offer. It will not remain available for long, after which we will be forced to take Imperial notice of the activities of those who have declined it.”

  “Thank you, Milady Empress.”

  “You are dismissed, Mr. Rottenburg,” Burke said.

  She did not cut the channel. Rottenburg bowed to them both, then logged out. He sat in his chair in his office and breathed a sigh of relief.

  He had confronted the lions in their den, and survived to tell the tale.

  Rottenburg related his conversation with The Rim Sector Governor Miklos Horvat to his fellows at an impromptu meeting he called. He followed that up with a description of his audience with Their Majesties. That event was burned into his memory to the point he had no difficulty in recalling it word-for-word.

  “Summing up, I would urge you all to take Their Majesties up on their offer. They know much more about what all has been going on than anyone guessed, and they will pursue those issues with anyone who does not take their deal. It is clear we are entering a new era of Great Emperors. This is why the sector governors are now united behind the Throne.”

  “That explains a lot to me,” Katherine Monroe said. “I wondered why the sector governors weren’t howling about knocking down all the trade barriers.”

  “I would be glad for a period of Great Emperors, like in the Golden Age,” John deVries said. “I know the history of Garland, and the nobility made a hash of it. I wouldn’t do that, but, if the Empire broke up, I wonder how my successors would do.”

  “I’m not so sure about my own status,” Genghis Khan XXIX said. “We never annexed to the Empire. Together with the four democracies, we have remained as an independent protectorate all these years. Though I suppose I should refresh that status with Their Majesties and make sure they understand we will not work to destabilize the Throne.”

  “The four democracies should probably do that as well,” Rottenburg said.

  “I will speak to them about it,” Khan said. “We meet occasionally, just as here. I thank you all again for allowing me to sit in on your councils.”

  “As a sitting ruler, I think you bring valuable perspective,” Tristan Wendover said.

  “Just speaking for myself, the relationship with the Empire has been tremendously beneficial to Sirdon. The last century of a weakening Empire has not been as good. I would be happy to see strong rulers once more in the Empire.”

  “Well, I don’t think you need to worry on that score,” Rottenburg said. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”

  “How many is that now?” Burke asked over dinner.

  “Through today, that’s all fifteen of the royal heirs and all the sector governors we worried about,” Ardmore said.

  “Fifteen? I thought there were sixteen royal houses.”

  “There are, but the Satrapy of Sirdon is a protectorate of the Empire. Genghis Khan XXIX is a sitting ruler. He doesn’t owe allegiance to the Throne.”

  “That’s right,” Burke said. “I always forget about him. He and the four democracies.”

  “Yes, but they’ve requested a meeting as well.”

  “Oh, no. I thought I was done.”

  “You’re done with the fire-breathing Empress routine,” Ardmore said, chuckling. “These are sitting rulers. The meeting will be in business clothes and be rather pleasant, I would imagine.”

  “OK. That will be a change of pace. I’m glad all these others are so impressed by me, but it will be nice to sit with someone as an eq
ual, for a change.”

  “I am impressed by you, too, My Dear, and you always sit as an equal to me.”

  “Yes, but that’s different. You’re almost my alter-ego by this point.”

  Ardmore and Burke were standing, waiting for their guests. Both were dressed in business suits. As each guest arrived, the Emperor and Empress greeted them with ‘Mr. President’ or ‘Madam President.’ Genghis Khan XXIX arrived last, and they greeted him with ‘Your Highness.’ All their guests greeted them with ‘Your Majesties.’

  “Let’s all be seated, shall we?” Ardmore said, waving to the seven leather club chairs arranged in a circle in the featureless room.

  When everyone was seated, Ardmore turned to Khan.

  “Your Highness, you asked for this meeting. Why don’t you start it off?”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  Khan took a second to gather his thoughts, then started in.

  “We, the five of us, have been protectorates of the Empire since Trajan the Great in 10 GE granted us that status. It has worked out much as he foresaw, I think, providing benefits to both us and the Empire in the centuries since.

  “The last century has not been as good. A strong Empire benefits us more than a weak one, and we have watched the Empire weakening with some dismay. We could not be more pleased that a more active, a more vibrant, leadership is now in place in the Empire.

  “We are also aware you are having some internal troubles in reasserting the prerogatives of the Throne. We wanted to take this opportunity to renew our relationship with the Empire, both restating our pledges to the Throne not to interfere in its internal affairs, and to receive reassurance from the Throne regarding our independent status.”

  Khan looked back and forth at the presidents of the four Western democracies – Abelard, Bordain, Doria, and Westhaven – who all nodded in return.

  “Let me say first for both of us, Your Highness, we appreciate your forbearance while we do our internal housecleaning, as well as your remaining detached from our minor troubles,” Burke said. “And second, we will abide by the charters provided each of you by the Emperor Trajan, which we reviewed before coming to this meeting. The Throne will stand by its promises.