The Randall Garrett Megapack

by Randall Garrett

  At eleven forty-five promptly, the phone chimed. No face appeared on the screen when young Senesin answered it, but a voice gave an address on Kalia Road.

  Three minutes later, the two men were on the roof, signaling for a skycab.

  * * * *

  At ten o’clock the next morning, a panel slid aside in a wall that had previously seemed solid. Colonel Lord Barrick Sorban stepped into the room, thinking as he did so that he really was a romantic. He actually rather enjoyed the idea of using secret passages and hidden panels to gain access to the Emperor’s private apartments in the Imperial Palace.

  He gave a gentle nod to the man in the blue lounging robe who sat in a big easy-chair just across the room. “Good morning, Sire.”

  “’Morning, colonel,” said His Imperial Majesty, Hannikar IV. “How are things shaping up?”

  The colonel chuckled. “Not a single one of the newsies printed a word of it, Sire.”

  These men were close friends, and had been for years, yet they clung to the formal titles, both from habit and for self-protection. The accidental use of a first name could mean a dead giveaway at the wrong time.

  The Emperor was a smaller man than Colonel Sorban, but he was far more impressive. While the colonel seemed rather mild, the Emperor looked—well, Imperial. He looked just as an Emperor ought to look—handsome, dark-haired, stern at times and kindly at others. The square jaw gave an impression of firmness of character, while the sapphire-blue eyes were penetrating without being harsh or hard.

  “What about the Senesin boy?” he asked.

  “He’s in jail,” said the colonel.

  His Imperial Majesty raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” It was a question and a command.

  “Not by my orders,” said the colonel quickly. “He got a little upset. He’d taken those tapes and documents around to four editors and had been thrown out four times. The fifth time—at the Globe, as a matter of fact—he accused the editor of being in your pay. A hassle started, and the editor called the Honolulu police. Don’t worry, Sire; one of my boys got the tapes and stuff.”

  “Is it genuine?”

  “The evidence? Yes. The Federalists had the goods on you, all right.” He grinned. “As you said, everything but brainwashing.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” said the Emperor. “Prince Jaimie’s been going through the family files, and I rather want him to see this batch of stuff, too. Meantime, get the Senesin boy out of that cell; I want to see him. He’s got guts, if nothing else.”

  “He has sense, too, Sire; he’s just a little too young yet.” He almost added “and romantic,” but he stopped himself in time.

  “How long will it take to get him out?” His Majesty asked.

  “I can have him here in half an hour. The editor of the Globe will drop the charges. I can put a little pressure on in the right places.”

  The Emperor nodded. After a moment, he thumbed a button on his chair arm. “Inform Lord Senesin that he is requested to appear for a Royal Audience in forty-five minutes,” he said firmly.

  “Yes, Sire,” said a voice from a hidden speaker.

  The Emperor looked at the colonel. “Get the boy.”

  * * * *

  Jon Senesin sat in a soft chair, his hands gripping at the arms as though it might at any time fall from under him. He looked at the three other men in the room. His father, Lord Senesin, looking rather tired, but with a slight smile on his lantern-jawed face, sat on his son’s left. One hand ran nervously through his gray hair.

  On Jon’s right sat the colonel, looking cool, unperturbed, and very gentle.

  Between them sat the Emperor.

  Jon’s face looked pale, and there was a slight nervous tic at the corner of his mouth. “I ... I don’t understand,” he said. “I—” He swallowed hard as his voice failed him.

  “Nothing hard to understand, son,” said the colonel mildly. “We’ve been looking for evidence to break up the Federalists for several years. Some of them are honest men who are simply against any kind of hereditary monarchy—we’ll let them go eventually. Some of them are fanatics—the kind that is against any form of government that happens to be in power; they’ll get psychiatric treatment. But the leaders of the group are agents of the Gehan Federation. My men are picking them up now. The man that contacted you and me last night was arrested within two minutes after we left.”

  “But—the evidence! Those tapes. The documents. They all seemed genuine. They seemed so convincing.”

  “They should be convincing, Jon,” said Lord Senesin in his smooth oratorical baritone. “You see, they are perfectly true.”

  Jon Senesin looked at his father as though the older man had suddenly sprouted an extra set of ears. “Y ... You’ve been brainwashed?”

  The Prime Portfolio shook his head. “No, son, not that. Did you see anything like that on the tapes?”

  “N-no. But the others. Fileman Brenner, Portfolio for Defense Vane, General Finster—all of them. I thought—”

  “You thought wrong, son,” said Lord Senesin. “I am and always have been working loyally with His Majesty. He gives the orders, and I carry them out.”

  Jon’s voice became taut. “You mean you’re helping him? You’re trying to get the Empire into a war with the Gehan Federation so that he can become another dictator, like Jerris the First?” He kept his eyes carefully averted from the Emperor as he spoke.

  Thus he didn’t notice that His Majesty looked at Colonel Sorban with an expression that said, “You’re right. He does have guts.”

  Lord Senesin said: “No, son; I’m not working toward that at all. Neither is His Majesty. There would be no point in it.”

  Then, for the first time, the Emperor spoke. His voice was soft, but commanding. “Mr. Senesin, let me explain something to you.”

  Jon Senesin’s head jerked around. There was a confused mixture of fear and determination on his face.

  “Mr. Senesin, I no more want war than you do. I am trying to avoid it with every power at my command. I have that duty to my people. But I have another duty, too. A duty, not just to the Empire, but to the human race as a whole. And that duty is to establish, not a Terran Empire, but a Galactic Empire—a single, consolidated government for every planet in the galaxy. Man can’t go on this way, divided, split up, warring with himself. Man can’t live in isolation, cut off from other worlds, other types of societies.

  “We can’t have a part of the human race living in constant fear of another part. We can’t allow the conditions that exist at this moment in the Gehan Federation. To paraphrase Lincoln, ‘The galaxy cannot exist half slave and half free.’

  “Right now, there is evidence that the Gehan Federation will collapse internally within less than five years. The only way for the President of the Federation to avert that collapse will be to declare war on the Empire. We have had to take certain risks in order to insure that when and if war does come, we will win it.

  “Bairnvell was one of those risks. Not too great a one, as it turns out; evidently the Federation government doesn’t see that our possession of that base is a vital factor in our own defense. Strategy in three dimensions isn’t easy to reason out.

  “Mr. Senesin, I have no desire for power in a personal way. Any power I have is used for the good of my people. I have no police system for terrorizing the people; I don’t suppress the freedom of every man to say or print what he wants. To call your Sovereign a fatheaded slob in a newsfac might be considered bad taste, but it isn’t illegal. I can’t even bring a civil suit against you, the way an ordinary citizen could.

  “Now, I’ll grant that I sometimes use illegal means to control the Empire. But there are reasons for that. I—”

  He was interrupted by a soft chime. He pressed a button on his armchair. “Yes?”

  “You go on the interstellar hookup in twenty minutes, Sire. The File has assembled,” said a voice from a speaker.

  “I’ll be right there.” He stood up and glanced apologetically at the other
three men. “Sorry. Political announcement, you know. You two go ahead and explain to Mr. Senesin.” Then he looked directly at the Prime Portfolio. “I’ll tell them you’re slightly ill.” He reached out, took Lord Senesin’s hand, and grasped it firmly. “I’ll make it look good, old friend, don’t worry. I’ll need your help with Lord Evondering when he gets the Primacy.”

  * * * *

  The other men were on their feet already. They watched in silence as he walked out the door, then eased themselves back into their chairs.

  “I still don’t understand,” Jon said softly. The bitterness and anger seemed to have left him, leaving only puzzlement in their wake. “If you take orders from him, Dad, then this isn’t a democracy any more. It’s become another Imperial dictatorship.”

  “Son,” said his father, “the Empire never has been a democracy in the sense you’re thinking about. Ever since Jerris the First, it has been ruled solely by the Emperors. Always.

  “The Imperial Family is a special breed, son. It’s a genetic strain in which the quality of wise leadership is dominant. It’s a quality that’s more than just intelligence; wisdom is the ability to make correct judgments, not only for one’s self, but for others.”

  “But, Dad!” There was almost a wail in the boy’s voice. “That makes the whole democratic system in the Empire a farce! It’s totally unnecessary! You’re unnecessary! He could run everything by himself!”

  Lord Senesin started to say something, but Colonel Sorban interrupted.

  “No, you young fool, he is not unnecessary! He is, in a very real sense, the Emperor’s shield. Our Emperors have always given the people of the Empire the kind of government they need, not the kind of government they want. There are certain things that must be done, whether the people like those things or not.

  “How long do you think the Empire would last without the Imperial Line to guide it? Not ten years! The thing is too big, too vast, for any ordinary man to handle the job. The voters are perfectly capable of electing a man to the Primacy on the strength of his likable personality alone—look at Lord Evondering. A hell of a pleasant guy, without a glimmering of real wisdom.

  “When the people don’t like the things the Government does, they throw it out—even if the thing done was actually for the best. The people demand a new Government. We can’t allow them to throw the Emperor out, so we need a scapegoat. This time, it happened to be your father, here. He happened to be Prime at a crucial time, and he had to give orders that made him unpopular. So he’ll have to get out, and let the Loyal Opposition take over. But the Emperor will go right on running things.

  “Your father is far from unnecessary, son. He’s a hero, dammit, and you’d better remember that! He’s taking the rap for another man because he knows that he is expendable and the other man isn’t.

  “Oh, your father could probably ride this thing out and stay in the Primacy for a couple more years. But this mess with the Federation is going to get a lot stickier than it is now. The Emperor is going to have to do things that the people will hate even worse, and we might as well let that fool Evondering take the rap. He’ll look so bad by the time he leaves the Primacy that everyone will be screaming for your father back again, to clean up the mess.”

  Jon Senesin still looked dazed. “But, if that’s the case, why allow the people to vote at all?”

  “Because that’s the only way you can keep an Empire stable! As long as the average man feels he has a voice in his Government, he’s forced to admit that any failures are partly his own fault. Nobody rebels against a government he can vote against. As long as he has ballots, he won’t use bullets.”

  Lord Senesin said: “I know it’s a shock, coming this way. But look at it right, son.”

  “I am,” said Jon slowly. “At least, I think I am. But it doesn’t really seem right. Not yet.” He looked at the colonel. “One thing I don’t understand, my lord. Why did you let me take all that evidence around to the newsies? And why are you telling me all this now? I’m still not fully convinced. Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell the whole story?”

  But it was his father who answered. “You tried that, son. It didn’t work, did it?”

  “No. But why? Why wouldn’t they believe me, even when I had all that evidence?”

  “Because they don’t want to believe you,” said the colonel. “Ever hear of a father-image? The Emperor is a symbol, Jon. He’s not a human being in the eyes of the average man. He’s the kind All-Father, the godlike being who dispenses mercy, but not justice.

  “Haven’t you ever noticed that orders of judgment against criminals are signed only by the courts and by the Portfolio of the Interior? But pardons and paroles are signed by the Emperor.

  “It may not sound ethical to you, but that’s the way the Emperor has to operate. He takes credit for all the nice things he does, and lets others take the blame for anything that’s distasteful.

  “You could blat it around all over fifty star systems that the Emperor was a louse, and all you’d get is a poke in the eye for your troubles.

  “It’s not easy for him, and don’t ever kid yourself that it is. He’s going out there now to tell the Empire that your father and his Government have resigned. He has to try to make his best friend and most loyal subject look a little less black than he has been painted, and all the time it was the Emperor who wielded the paint gun. Do you think that’s fun?”

  “No,” said Jon softly. “No, I guess not.” He paused. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to take the evidence away from me, though?”

  “No. That would have left you furious. No amount of talking would have convinced you. As it was, you convinced yourself that there is no way to attack the Emperor directly. He’s safe right where he is.”

  Jon shook his head slowly. “It all seems so ... so tangled. It still seems as though the whole deception is ... well, wrong, somehow.”

  “If you look at it in a certain way,” said Lord Senesin, “I suppose it does seem wrong. But it’s necessary. Absolutely necessary.”

  “Maybe,” said Jon, still unconvinced. “It certainly does look as though His Majesty has himself in an almost impregnable position. It’s a wonder he needs agents like you.”

  Colonel Lord Barrick Sorban smiled a little. The boy would see the thing straight eventually. He had what it took, even if it didn’t show much at this stage. Actually, he was more than halfway convinced now, but wouldn’t admit it to himself yet. At least he’d been able to put a finger on one thing.

  Aloud, the colonel said: “You’re not altogether wrong there, son. When you come right down to it, I’m the unnecessary man.”