Beata felt awful, like she had plunged a knife into her own heart. There were millions of dead down there, and she still wasn’t sure if she had accomplished what she wanted.
“Walborski?”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“What’s your status?”
“We felt a slight tremor, ma’am. Nothing more. And nothing went off. We only have three more of the trigger containers to go.”
“After you get the last one of those through, I want you to toss the rest after it. I don’t want any of that shit on the surface of this world.”
“Understood, ma’am. And I must say that I heartily approve.”
Normally Beata wouldn’t care if a spacer, marine or soldier of less than flag rank approved of her actions or not. Even most flag officers wouldn’t elicit any kind of response from her. With this man it was different. He had earned the Imperial Medal of Heroism three times, and he had the ear of the Emperor.
“Thank you, Colonel. Now, get that shit off their world. Report it done, and I’ll have new orders for you.” Probably to send him home. She respected him, was happy to have him on her ground force staff, but the Emperor would be relieved when he got back to Capitulum.
* * *
The Dictator Hraston Gonoras stared in terror at the last barrier between him and the humans. They had swept aside all of his defenses, smashed through every door, and now, here they were, right outside his final refuge.
“Stop them,” he yelled to his remaining guards. “Protect your ruler. They must not be allowed to take me.”
The officer in charge of the forty-one remaining guards looked back at the dictator. He was one of the half that had on combat armor, which gave him a better chance in the fight than those without. But compared to the armor the humans had, he might as well have been wearing a cloth uniform.
The heavy door shook, red spots appearing as the heat of particle beams pushed into its metal. The guards looked at each other, some with expressions of resignation. Others with fear. They all knew that when the humans came through that door they were dead. Maybe the dictator would survive. The humans had made their intentions plain. They wanted him alive, to stand trial in a court composed of Gorgansha judges.
“You are ordering us to not let them take you alive?” asked the guard officer, holding his rifle in a tight grip.
“I do. You are ordered to stop them from taking me alive. No matter what it takes.”
“Very well,” said the officer, standing and turning. In one quick motion he aimed his rifle and burned a hole through the head of his ruler.
The rest of the guards stared in shock. A couple made motions to shoot the regicide, but they were restrained by the others.
“Open the door,” said the officer in a low tone, almost like he was sick. “I will speak with the humans.”
Now the general feeling among the guards was one of relief. With just a little luck they would live past this day.
“We surrender,” said the guard officer as the door attempted to slide open. It was already too badly damaged to open easily, and only slid half way before it jammed. Still, enough for people to pass.
“Come out one at a time, without weapons. You will be captured and treated well, but if we see any weapons we will open fire.”
The officer looked at all of his men. They dropped weapons to the floor and stood up. The officer led the way. If the humans were telling the truth he would be fine. If they weren’t? Well, then he would be the first to be killed. Like a real leader, he thought, glancing back at the body of the ruler they had all served. The coward.
The humans were waiting, standing in their heavy armor suits, fearsome, with their powerful particle beams following the guard officer as he moved forward with all hands raised. He didn’t want any misunderstanding, not with a dozen heavy weapons pointed at him, any one of which could end his life in an instant.
“Where is the dictator?” asked one of the humans through a translator.
“Dead. Lying in his own blood in the chamber behind me.”
“How did he die?”
“I shot him,” said the officer in a low voice. He was not proud of having done it. It was simply something that needed to be done if any of his men were going to survive. There was no way the dictator was going to win. He had a date with death, and the officer didn’t want himself or his men to accompany him on that adventure.
The humans stared at him, as if they couldn’t figure out what to say. Meanwhile, his men started coming out, hands in the air. He hoped none of them decided to try something. The humans looked like they wouldn’t hesitate to fire if they thought the Gorgansha were trying to attack them under cover of a surrender.
One of the humans put restraints on his arms, locking them together. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen to him. Would he be hailed as a hero, or vilified as a traitor. At the moment it didn’t matter to him.
* * *
“The dictator is confirmed dead, Fleet Commander,” said Beata, looking at the face of Admiral Soranka Goran. “I would appreciate it if you could do a broadcast to the planet.”
“I will get right on it, Admiral,” said the fleet commander. “I think showing the conversations we recorded might be of some help as well, yes.”
Beata nodded, thinking about the windfall of data they had retrieved from the dictator’s bunker. Locations of weapons, passwords, even a cache of the war machines he was supposed to have already destroyed. Lots of names, both of people he trusted, who would be the ones for the new government to look out for, and those he didn’t trust. Those last could be vetted and installed into the new government.
“Lord Kessarlja is on his way,” said Beata, looking over at another holo that showed the wormhole open in that Gorgansha male’s system. “We’ll want to install him as president as soon as he arrives.” Beata looked closely into the face of the male. “Unless you have second thoughts about him.”
“None. As flattering as the position would be, I don’t think we need a military male in it,” said Goran with a very human head shake. “Kessarlja has experience in running a major system, which gives him as much experience as anyone for running the Consolidation.”
That was what Beata thought. She wasn’t sure if military leaders made the best civilian variety. That was the way it worked in the Empire. All of the Emperors for the past couple of centuries had served in the military, mostly the Fleet. Not all had achieved even ship command. Hell, Sean hadn’t. Many members of Parliament were veterans, some having reached flag rank. Most weren’t. They indirectly ran the military through appropriations and oversight, but they left the actual deployment and planning of the military to those with special knowledge.
“You know we will be withdrawing much of our military from this region in the next month,” said the admiral, knowing that would not be good news to the Fleet Commander. “I have a lot of ships that need time in the docks before they’re combat effective again. And there is always a need for more ships with our Fleet.”
“I understand,” said the fleet commander. “But I hope that you will still send us the aid we need. We have a lot of rebuilding to do.”
Bednarczyk looked over at a screen that was showing the shipment that was scheduled to come in the next day. Ten superfreighters, two hundred and fifty million tons of machinery and electronics. Including hundreds of nanotech fabber units. Enough to jump start the tech of the Gorgansha, to bring them near to the level of the Imperium.
“We’re sending what we can. But I have some other news for you.”
Beata was actually getting pretty good at reading the facial expressions of these aliens. All she could think of was anxiety, that the human was going to drop something on him that he wouldn’t like.
“I’m being transferred to the main front,” she said quickly. “We still have a war going on the other side of the Empire, and the Emperor wants me to command a fleet.”
“I feel sorry for your enemy, Admiral. You will make a formidable
opponent to whomever you fight.”
Beata beamed. Not because he was complimenting her personally. No, it was the change in attitude of the Gorgansha leadership. When she and her female officers had first appeared in Gorgansha space they were looked down upon because of their gender. They were referred to as females, a derogatory term to these people. And thought to be not as good as the males in her command. Now they were treated as human officers first, the representatives of a mighty military power.
The Gorgansha still had a long way to go. It might take generations before they all treated their females as equals. They might never see them as their physical equals. Even a lot of humans hadn’t gone that far, and they had reason. Women weren't as physically strong, not as fast, though they could be just as agile, which was why many of them made excellent pilots. Intellectually they were, of course, the equals of males on average, as anyone who had met Chuanto Chan could tell you. The Gorgansha were on the right path, since both their new president and their military commander were giving responsibility to their senior wives. How far the liberation of their females went with this species was up to them. It wasn’t the business of the Empire, as long as they didn’t keep them as slaves.
“Admiral Henare has been promoted to fleet admiral,” continued Beata, thinking that was a good decision. The man had proved to be a competent combat commander, as well as an excellent administrator, and he knew the region and the peoples. Especially the Klassekians, who were still very important in this space. One day they might be joined in a close alliance with the Gorgansha. For now and some years the Gorgansha would still be catching up.
* * *
“We have a report from our off-world colony, General,” said President of the Klassekian home-world over the com holo.
Wittmore had barely stepped back onto the surface of the planet, returning to his position as Planetary Governor, when the president had commed him. He felt right at home. Promoted to Field Marshal, he was now the overall ground force commander of all Imperial Forces in the region. He could have his headquarters anywhere in this region. Wormholes would connect him to every important outpost. Bolthole, the Gorgansha home-world, but he preferred Klassek. He liked the culture, the people.
“Good news?”
“Your exploration teams have given it the green light. Our first colony ship is due to set down in a couple of days.”
Wittmore smiled. They wanted to help the Klassekians to become a multi-system species. There was already a large population on Bolthole, as well as a thriving group on Capitulum and other locations. There were plans to give them a newly terraformed world in the Empire as well. This was an important species, and not just because of their ability to communicate instantaneously across any distance. The ancients in this region had said that the Klassekians were going to develop into an advanced species, just as the humans would. The Emperor wasn’t sure what that meant, but he wasn’t about to let these people die before he had a chance to find out.
“I’ll arrange for an engineering brigade to head to the planet and build the infrastructure for you.” After all, Klassek was officially part of the Empire, and a frontier world in most respects, despite having a population of over five billion. It was beyond the frontier in fact, and behind the rest of the Empire in technology and infrastructure. Getting more of their people to other worlds was a priority out here, and there would be other colonies starting up within the year.
“We would appreciate that, General,” said the president. “You have been good friends to my people. We will be eternally grateful.”
You should be, thought Wittmore, smiling. He wouldn’t say that to the president, but the planet had been on the brink of destruction when the first Exploration Command ship had arrived. It had stopped a nuclear war that threatened to kill the entire population of the world. And then had come the supernova of the nearby blue giant star. The Empire hadn’t saved them then. The ancients, beings that had erected the massive constructs that still dominated the horizons of the world, had saved it by transporting the entire planet into another dimension. There it had sat while the radiation storm of the supernova had passed by.
Well, two out of three’s not bad, Wittmore mused, thinking of the many times they had saved them from the Machines. And now, finally, the Machines were no longer a threat to anyone.
“Now, if only we could get the fanatics from the other continent to see sense,” said the president, the Klassekian version of a scowl on her face.
“Nothing we can do about that, Mr. President. We can help you with security, but we aren’t in the business of programming minds.” Even if we could. The Empire was a champion of individual rights, including the right to be who you were. Actions had consequences, thoughts didn’t.
“Too bad.”
That set off some alarm bells in the back of the general’s mind. The Klassekians knew more about their own brain architecture than anyone in the Galaxy. They might be able to engineer brain reprogramming. If they thought about it, it wasn’t the problem of the Empire. If they tried to do it, it did become a problem, and the Empire would have to get involved. Even if it would clear up a problem.
“We are holding the elections for our two representatives to the Commons at the end of the week. I’m still having some dissenting voices about the selection of our members of the Lords.”
“You don’t have to have them, Mr. President,” said the general, himself not the biggest fan of the nobility. “That is up to you. But you will be shortchanging yourself in Parliament without those two nobles.” Wittmore thought for a moment, then looked back up at the president. “Hell, you can elect them to two-year terms and call them count, or duke, or whatever the hell will let them fit in. I’m sure the Emperor will approve, and even if some of the Lords question it, he has the leverage in the Lords to make your selections stick.”
“Then that is what we’ll do.”
As long as it lasts. Every alien species in the Empire, with the exception of some abo people who preferred to stay in their dark ages, had gone along with the idea of nobility. He was sure the Klassekians would as well given time, but this would give them a chance to slowly get used to the idea of a privileged class. Not that everyone in the Empire liked having nobles placed over them. Every year there was a call by a vocal minority to get rid of the nobles, but it was always voted down by the majority that liked having the Emperor in charge.
“I have to file some reports with my bosses,” said Wittmore by way of apology to the president, a being he had come to respect and like.
“We all have our taskmasters, even I. I will talk to you soon.”
Wittmore sat back in his chair, closing his eyes and allowing himself to relax for a moment. Things were calm out here in this region, beyond the actual frontiers of the Empire. He hoped it would remain that way. But…
“Admiral Henare is on the com, sir.”
“Put him on,” said Wittmore, opening his eyes.
“General. We have news from one of the Exploration Command ships sent out to explore further up the arm,” said the admiral. “They have some alarming news.”
Epilogue
The Emperor Sean Ogden Lee Romanov sat back on the sinfully comfortable couch in his study, the flickering flames of a fire illuminating the small room. Small, that is, for the palace, it measured twenty meters by ten, with numbers of object de art on cabinets and old books on shelves. A Himalayan cat purred under one hand, while an orange tabby snuggled against the side of his leg, and a Calico lay by herself on the next cushion over.
Even while relaxing Sean was at work, a couple of holos opened in the air to his front. Both displayed information of interest to him. One told of success, and what he could remove from that front, while the other displayed a situation that was still not settled, and which could immediately use those reinforcements.
“Is anything wrong?” asked Jennifer, his wife and the Empress of the New Terran Empire, coming quietly into the room.
“No,” he s
aid, looking up at his wife, his heart beating faster as he looked into her beautiful eyes. “Everything is actually going very well. For once.”
Jennifer walked over to the couch and picked up Molly, the Calico. She sat and placed the cat on her lap. The cat snuggled in and purred furiously. “And that worries you?”
“Of course,” he said with a smile. “Ever since I’ve been Emperor, the good times, they just don’t last.”
“Then you need to enjoy them while you can,” said his wife, putting her left hand over to cover the one Sean had on the cat on his lap. “Can I ask what is so good?”
“Well, for one, it looks like the Machines are gone, for good. That's a huge burden off our shoulders. Not just mine, but the entire population of the Empire. We made them, of course. So it was our responsibility to get rid of them.”
“Mission accomplished, huh,” she said, stroking his hand. “So what’s next out there?”
“I’m not sure. Klassek is well and truly at peace, and it’s now part of the Empire. The Gorgansha Consolidation is well on the way to becoming a friend and ally. And Bolthole is back on track to turn out the sinews of war that we need.”
“And? There must be something else. Spill it.”
“Well, we’re getting Admirals Bednarczyk and Montgomery back. Half of their ships are remaining in that region. The scout force needs to keep looking over systems and make sure that nothing remains.”
“I thought the Machines were gone.”
“We think so. I sure hope so. But we don’t want any piece of junk floating around that someone might find and reverse engineer. If it’s something that contains any of their code, it could lead to disaster.”
“Okay,” said Jennifer, nodding. “So you’ll keep some ships looking for, how long? Months? Years?”
“At least a couple of years.” Sean grasped his wife’s hand while he scratched the ears of the Himalayan with the other. The cat had been a gift from the Duchess Mei Lei, an admiral in his service who had rescued him from the Cacas early in the war. “I know we can’t keep searching forever, but I want at least a cursory search of every star system within a hundred light years of the Machine central system.”
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