Tyrant

by Richard F. Weyand

  His rank had been that of Admiral. Despite having never played the promotions game, he had made that rank by sheer, tough competence. He had effectively defied the bureaucracy not to promote him.

  He had hoped his next rank would be Fleet Admiral, with sector command over five Imperial Fleets numbering nearly twenty-three thousand ships.

  But that isn’t what had happened. Or had it?

  McGee had been promoted to Fleet Admiral, but without a sector assignment. He was, however, given command over five fleets – Imperial Fleets 23, 42, 83, 127, and his own 97th. These were all active in the North-Earthward part of the Empire, in adjacent sectors. Detachment of his commands would steal one Imperial Fleet from all five of these sectors, but they were being backfilled from further into the large mass of space the Empire claimed.

  His orders were to move this huge force into the Kingdom of Pannia to conduct war games with the Pannian Navy. This would be a friendly move, and the Pannians were expecting them. He was to mount a defense of the Kingdom of Pannia along the sector model.

  Twenty-three thousand ships for a war game?

  But it got stranger. There would be no Red Team, no dummy attacks pretending to be hostile forces.

  McGee read the orders again.

  “You will proceed into the Kingdom of Pannia and set up a defense of the Kingdom of Pannia along the sector model. You will defend the Kingdom of Pannia against all comers according to the rules of engagement for sector defense within the Empire. There is no Red Team. This is not a drill. Planets of the Kingdom of Pannia are to be treated as if they were Imperial planets and defended with the same commitment and zeal by your forces. Weapons authorization is as for Imperial sector defense.”

  Something was going on that he wasn’t being told. All well and good. He could read between the lines.

  The meeting was in a flag briefing room in VR. All five of the full admirals commanding his five component fleets and their chiefs of staff were there, including his newly promoted replacement for the 97th Fleet, his former vice commander.

  “Good morning, everyone,” McGee said. “We have received our orders.”

  He displayed his orders up on the wall behind him.

  “I would ask you to read them, and then read them again, slowly.”

  He gave them time before going on.

  “Now somebody doesn’t want to tell us what’s going on yet, but it says deploy like it’s a sector, defend it like it’s a sector, weapons authorization is like a sector, treat it in every way like a sector. Now, if it was going to, say, actually become a sector, I can see why we don’t want to let the neighbors know that, right? They’ll get all worked up and try to pull something before we can be in place. But if they think it’s just war games, well, let’s just wait till the big, bad Empire goes home. So let’s keep our speculations to ourselves, but we are going to treat this in every way as a sector defense problem.

  “Now let’s take a look at the astrography of Pannia. Here you can see Pannia is divided into five duchies, which are further divided into a total of about fifty holdings. This dates back to when the nobility ran the show, before the last king smashed all that. But those fifty holdings do look a lot like a provincial model, gathered into five defensive areas, not unlike the areas we each have responsibility for now.

  “So that’s what your individual orders will look like. A defensive area for your fleet operations for each of us. I will base myself on the planet of Pannia, the capital planet.

  “Right now, their defensive sensor system is very much lacking compared to what we are used to. First thing will be to deploy pickets so we can get some decent warning on incursions.

  “Their hypergate technology leaves a lot to be desired, too. They’ll be OK for pickets, but they have a recycle time that makes them unacceptable for fleet movements. So until we get those replaced – if, say, it was actually to become a sector – plan on making pretty heavy use of your hypergate projector ships. Hopefully we haven’t all forgotten how to hit the mark on those.

  “We have a week or two before each of our reliefs shows up. I want to see from each of you a deployment plan for your duchy, with timeframes for being in position. We need to advise higher of that expectation so they can plan whatever the thing is they’re not telling us about.

  “We’ll meet again in five days to finalize things. And then, as our reliefs show up, we space for Pannia.

  “Any questions?”

  It was only ten days later when his relief showed up, Imperial Fleet 76 under Admiral Natalia Shvets. She was a rare female flag officer in the Imperial Navy, but anybody who had met the wiry officer from the Odessa Sector had no doubt she had made it on tough, clear-eyed competence. McGee knew he was leaving his post in good hands.

  He transferred over all his briefing books and reports to Shvets, then briefed her personally. She was newly promoted to full admiral, one of the personnel moves rippling through the Navy. McGee had noticed the promotions all seemed to be people who had always had great reputations, while the retirements and moves out of command posts were people he had long suspected of gaining their rank primarily through ass-kissing and palm-crossing. He hoped other people hearing about his own promotion to Fleet Admiral had the same thoughts.

  As Shvets’ command moved into their positions, all across McGee’s defensive zone his own ships were preparing to space. It wasn’t long before his flagship and its associated combat and support units were accelerating away from Draco. In the lead were the five big hyperspace projector ships.

  The two hundred ships of his local elements lined up behind the projector ships in five lines of ships. When everybody was in position, the projector ships cut their engines and directed all their power to casting out their hypergates behind them, two-mile diameter rifts in space-time. The projector ships having cut their engines, the line of ships following each of them caught up and each ship sailed through the hypergate and disappeared in turn. When all were gone, the projector ships pulled their hypergates over themselves like a magician’s cloak and disappeared as well.

  “Arriving Pannia, Sir.”

  “Announce our arrival, Comm.”

  “Arrival announcement transmitted, Sir.”

  “Establish communications with other fleet elements on station. Let everybody else know we’re here.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And let’s establish communications with any picket ships that have already arrived.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  McGee sat on his flag bridge on HMS Vigilant. Physically he was in his day cabin, lying on the bed, as the bridge was completely implemented in VR. He had his display set to a projection of the system, in which his ships and the other ships they had so far detected were displayed with identifying icons. In the middle was a planet icon labeled Pannia.

  It had only been a few day’s spacing to Pannia from the adjacent Carolina Sector of the Empire. His picket element did not leave from Draco or arrive in Pannia. They deployed from the planets of the Empire to planets in the Duchy of Pannia, two to each planet. One would space a large circle in hyperspace, the other in normal space. Every twenty-four hours, they changed positions so the unit coming in from hyperspace could download its plots over QE radio to the fleet.

  “Acknowledgement received, Sir. ‘Welcome to Pannia, Imperial Navy.’ We are approved for fly-by of the planet, deployment of shuttles, and planet leave. They request we take leave through their on-planet fleet base.”

  “Let’s do a first fly-by and drop me to the planet so I can meet with the king. Request that meeting. Instruct element commanders to work up a leave schedule.”

  “Yes, Sir. Fleets 42 and 127 report on station. No issues. And picket ships are starting to report. Hyperspace map is developing. We have some holes yet, but they’re filling in.”

  “Excellent.”

  McGee was interested in meeting the King of Pannia. As fleet commander, he always reported in to the provincial governor at the beginning of
any posting. It paid to build a relationship first, so if anything came up later he wasn’t talking to a complete stranger. This would be his first time reporting in to a king, however.

  “Pannia advises King Harold can meet with you one-on-one at any time, and advises larger meetings for later. He asks if you’d like to join him for lunch. It’s about eight-thirty in the morning local time in the capital, Sir.”

  “Can I make that schedule on this pass?”

  “Yes, Sir. If you take your shuttle down, you’ll arrive approximately eleven-thirty, sir. They’ve just sent landing instructions.”

  “Advise that I will be happy to lunch with the King. Advise my shuttle crew of my plans and transmit landing instructions to my shuttle crew.”

  “Yes, Sir. You are one hour from departure.”

  McGee dropped out of VR and unstrapped from the bed. He always strapped in – had done so his entire career – in case his ship were forced to take evasive maneuvers. He ducked into the shower in his day cabin, shaved, and got dressed in uniform, including his new Fleet Admiral pins and boards.

  McGee arrived at his shuttle to find Gunnery Sergeant James Fylan and a rifle squad of Imperial Marines already aboard. They were in MCUs and looked like they meant business.

  “Gunny, this is a friendly visit.”

  “As you say, Sir.”

  “A rifle squad?”

  “Yes, Sir. If it were not a friendly visit, I would need a lot more, Sir.”

  McGee sighed and succumbed to the inevitable.

  “You will secure the ship while we’re on the ground, Gunny.”

  “Ship security. Yes, Sir.”

  McGee strapped in for the trip down.

  They arrived on a shuttle pad on the palace grounds without incident. The Imperial Marines debarked first and setup up a cordon around the shuttle. An electric cart approached the shuttle, driven by a young man in what McGee took to be a Palace Security uniform. He got out of the cart and saluted McGee.

  “Fleet Admiral McGee. Captain Mueller, Sir. Welcome to Pannia. If you would board, please, Sir.”

  “Of course, Captain.”

  McGee got on the cart and was driven across the grounds to the palace and into a tunnel to an underground entrance.

  “This way if you would, please, Sir.”

  McGee followed him through glass entrance doors into an elevator. They debarked into a luxurious hallway, down which Mueller led McGee. At the double doors at the end, he waved McGee through, then closed the door behind him.

  King Harold was standing in the center of the room, dressed in a business suit. He walked forward and shook hands with McGee.

  “Fleet Admiral McGee, welcome to Pannia.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  “It is such a pretty day, I’ve had them set up lunch on the balcony. If you would, please.”

  King Harold waved a hand toward the French doors along one side of the room, one pair of which stood open.

  “Of course, Sire.”

  The balcony had a pretty view of the grounds and the city beyond. A dark glass panel had been extended from the palace wall above the balcony to break the heat of the sunlight.

  “Not on such a grand scale as the Imperial Palace on Sintar, I’m sure.”

  “I wouldn’t know, Sire. I’ve never been to Sintar.”

  “Indeed.”

  They sat, and staff served them. Lunch was a seared filet of a large fish a lot like ahi, a garden salad, blanched vegetables, and fruit for dessert.

  “I must say I’m happy to see you here, Admiral.”

  “That’s good to know, Sire.”

  “Yes, well, what you don’t know is why you’re here. I’ve advised the Emperor I would tell you once you arrived.

  “About a month ago, I proposed to Emperor Trajan that the Sintaran Empire annex Pannia. He agreed, on the condition that Pannia would be admitted as a sector on a par with all the other sectors of the Empire. He would have no second-class citizens. I myself, he warned, would be a commoner. Initially sector governor, but a commoner nonetheless.

  “That the Imperial Navy would appoint an officer of your caliber as sector commander of the Pannia Sector is the clearest evidence so far that he meant it.”

  “Your Highness is too kind.”

  “Not at all Fleet Admiral McGee. As the incoming sector governor, I already have access to a great deal of records and other Imperial data. And I can read a personnel folder. You didn’t play the game, and others got promoted in front of you. But the bureaucracy no longer controls promotions in the Imperial Navy, and you finally got the sector command you deserve. And I’m tickled pink about it.

  “Now let me tell you why.

  “Pannia finds itself hard-pressed by Berinia and Celestia. We ultimately cannot fight them off without prioritizing military expenditures and abandoning all the things I would like to do to better the lot of the common Pannian. There’s only so much money to go around.

  “Further, were I to die, my son would become king and reinstate the nobility. The ensuing civil war would open us up to being taken apart by Berinia and Celestia. I have had to lock up my own son and his cronies to keep them from speeding along the matter of my demise.”

  “That’s too bad, Sire. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s one thing I certainly won’t miss about being king. I will release him and his fellows after the annexation agreement is signed.”

  “Won’t you still be in danger then, Sire?”

  “No, not at all. Rather the contrary, I would think, Admiral. If someone were to kill me then, the sector commander would become the Acting Sector Governor, pending the appointment of a new sector governor by His Majesty, Emperor Trajan. As it is now, he will be the son of the sector governor. Without me, he’s just a young man with too much money and not enough sense. And those are a dime a dozen.”

  “Ah. I see, Sire.”

  “So we are waiting for your forces to be in place, Admiral, before announcing the annexation. My understanding is the Emperor will have you sign the physical agreement on behalf of His Majesty.

  “How long will it be before your forces are in place?”

  “Given spacing times and our departure dates, at most another few days, Sire.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Your Highness, what will be the reaction to you signing this agreement and ceding Pannia to the Empire?”

  “I expect it to be wildly popular among the common people, Admiral. We do quite a bit of trade with the Empire now, and the Empire has been a good neighbor since we stopped provoking it when my father became king. As things like universal VR and universal education come on-line it will be even more so.”

  “And the former nobility?”

  “Oh, they’re going to have kittens. No doubt about it. My demise at some point in the future has been their big hope for a return to privileged status. Becoming a sector of the Empire will doom those hopes forever.”

  “I hope you’re taking extra precautions for the next week, Sire.”

  “Oh, yes. And we’ve kept pretty tight-lipped about what we’re planning. The idea of nobility is so precious to these people, they literally can’t conceive of anyone planning to give it up.

  “What I’m more worried about are the neighbors. Berinia and Celestia are likely to test you, Admiral. Perhaps in concert with each other. Perhaps an attack to draw you out of position on one side, followed up with an attack to take advantage on the other.”

  “I think they’ll find out we’re more than prepared for them, Sire. We’ve been playing this game a long time.”

  “Excellent, Admiral. Excellent.”

  It was three more days before all McGee’s forces were in place. As King Harold had advised, McGee had received new orders instructing him to sign the annexation agreement on behalf of the Emperor, and naming him the sector commander for Pannia Sector.

  And now McGee sat at a conference table in the palace, before cameras that would transmit the proceedings to a
ll the citizens of the Pannia Sector.

  They each signed their copy of the agreement, which was in a leather-bound folder. Aides then swapped the copies, and they each signed again. King Harold signed as ‘King Harold II, hereditary ruler of Pannia.’ McGee signed it as he had been instructed, ‘By order of His Majesty Emperor Trajan, with his commission and in his name, Fleet Admiral Dexter McGee, Imperial Navy, for the Emperor Trajan.’

  Once the agreement was signed, Sector Governor Harold Walthers addressed the people of Pannia.

  “... And so, my fellow citizens, I have bartered my hereditary throne for citizenship in the Sintaran Empire for all Pannia’s citizens. The Imperial Navy will now defend us against our belligerent neighbors. The Empire will provide universal VR. The Empire will provide universal education. There is free and open trade with the Empire, without any tariffs whatsoever in either direction. And you need no longer worry about what will happen when I pass on. There will be no return to the past. You are now, and you will remain, citizens of the Sintaran Empire, on an equal basis with all its other citizens.

  “Long live the Emperor.”

  Fred Michels, the bartender at the local watering hole, turned down the sound on the display.

  “Holy cow! I didn’t see that coming,” Howard Felt said.

  Michels nodded.

  “No kidding, Howard. Big surprise.”

  “Whaddya think, Fred? About the whole thing.”

  “Are you kidding? This king and his father, they been good guys. You probably don’t remember what it was like under those assholes before them. All the nobility rakin’ in the profits off the little guys, because the government was all rigged for them. We were effectively peasants. I was worried about what would happen when old Harold passed on. His kid’s a piece o’ work.”

  “But Sintar? Aren’t we just trading one set of problems for another?”

  “You need to get out more, Howard. We get people from the Empire come in here once in a while. Ship crews. Businessmen. They love the Empire. One guy, he’s a swabbie on a freighter. Shows me a picture of his daughter. She’s some high-falutin’ mucky-muck somewhere. Some big interstellar company. She had their schoolin’, got a scholarship o’ some kind to college, and now she’s a big shot. And he never had two spare dinar to scrape together himself.”