The Collapsing Empire

by John Scalzi

  “Is that your plan now? To return to End immediately?”

  “My plan is done, ma’am. I’ve spoken to you. I am ready to give you the full report from my father, checked by me, which your father commissioned. You may pass it along to whomever you wish for verification and you may do with it whatever you like, in terms of policy. It doesn’t seem like I need to convince you of the reality of the data. I’m confident you will use it wisely, although whether everyone else will follow your lead is an open question.”

  The door opened and Obelees Atek entered the room. Marce rose.

  “Lord Marce, your plan is done, but I still may need you. Will you stay?”

  “Ma’am, you are the emperox,” Marce said.

  “No,” the emperox said, and for the first time, Marce heard exasperation in her voice. “Lord Marce, you’re not an office to redecorate. I am asking you to stay, to explain this to me further, and to assist me in explaining it to others. I am asking you to stay knowing right now there’s a risk involved for you, and that risk gets larger the longer this takes. I can command your assistance. But I am asking for your help.”

  Marce looked at the emperox and was reminded again that whatever he was expecting from this meeting, this wasn’t it. “Ma’am, it would be my honor to assist you however I can,” he said.

  The emperox broke into a grin. “Thank you, Lord Marce. I am off now to tour a new tenner but will be returning late this evening. Will you have a late supper with me? I have more questions.”

  “Of course,” Marce said, and then hesitated.

  The emperox caught it. “What is it?”

  “I’m trying to figure out my personal logistics. I’m staying at a hotel on Imperial Station. My dinner clothes are there.”

  “One, I’m going to be exhausted after touring this damn ship, so dinner will be very informal. Two, you’re on staff now.” The emperox turned to Obelees. “I’ve hired Lord Marce as a special assistant for science policy. Have someone retrieve his effects from Imperial Station. Please find him quarters in the staff wing suitable to his station.” She glanced over to Marce. “Make sure they don’t look like a museum exploded in them. And have someone give him an orientation.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Obelees said.

  “See you soon,” the emperox said to Marce.

  “Ma’am,” Marce said, and bowed. The emperox left her office. As soon as she crossed the threshold of the office door, three assistants and a bodyguard attached themselves to her and paced her as she walked through the anteroom.

  Marce watched her go and then turned to Obelees. “I have no idea what just happened here,” he said.

  Obelees smiled. “It seems you had a successful meeting, Lord Marce. Now, come with me and let’s see what we can find for you, apartment-wise.”

  Chapter

  16

  Cardenia felt almost ashamed at how exhilarated she felt after her meeting with Marce Claremont.

  Ashamed because, after all, the discussion, as brief as it was, confirmed what her father had worried about, a worry she had inherited: that the human species was threatened with extinction, not in an abstract way or over a long period of time, but in a concrete fashion in the span of less than a decade. In less than ten years every human system would be isolated, alone and forced to survive solely on what resources existed in-system, and with what craft existed to exploit those resources. Habitats could theoretically last decades or even centuries before they failed, but there was the human element as well. Humans didn’t react well to the knowledge they were cut off and doomed to slow death by habitat failure. Cardenia recalled what they knew of the fall of Dalasýsla. The humans malfunctioned long before their habitat did.

  Feeling exhilarated about a confirmation of that fate for four dozen human systems and billions of individual humans was nothing to be proud about.

  But Cardenia couldn’t help it. She was exhilarated not because she was a fatalist or a misanthrope, happy that humanity was finally getting its comeuppance. She was exhilarated because finally the hazy nebulous shape of her reign, one whose meager main accomplishment was keeping parliament and the guilds from stomping on the unsuspecting planet of End with an influx of military boots, had suddenly snapped into focus. Cardenia now knew three things:

  One, she would be the very last emperox of the Interdependency.

  Two, the whole of her reign would be about saving as many human lives as possible, by any and every means possible.

  Three, that meant the end of the lie of the Interdependency.

  Which is what it was, and what Cardenia had learned that day she summoned Rachela I in the Memory Room and made her explain it all: how the vast majorities of the star systems accessible by the Flow were not easily habitable by humans but how they proceeded anyway, undeterred. How these independent systems began to trade and become dependent on each other for resources. How a group of merchants, spearheaded by Banyamun Wu, realized true power rested not in trade but in controlling access to the Flow, and set themselves up in the Hub system as armed toll collectors.

  How they camouflaged and sold their resource grab under a manufactured religious ethos of “Interdependency,” with Banyamun’s daughter Rachela as the nominative figurehead of the new church and nascent empire. How the Wus and their allies paid off those who might oppose them with titles of nobility and commerce monopolies, creating the “house and guild” economic system that ensured a permanent caste system and actively discouraged the sort of economic diversification within each system that might now better position humanity to survive its imminent isolation.

  How, in short, the Interdependency codified and manipulated humanity’s actual need for intersystem trade and cooperation, for the benefit of just a few at the very top. Starting with the Wu family. Her family.

  Cardenia had been shocked at the simple, unapologetic bloodymindedness with which Rachela I had recounted the Interdependency scheme. Until she remembered that the Rachela I of the Memory Room was a computer simulation without an ego. This version of Rachela I had no need to flatter herself or rationalize the actions she, her father, and the early Wu family and allies had taken. The computer simulation was unashamed.

  At that moment it had occurred to Cardenia that every emperox after Rachela had had the same moment she was then having, the one where they had entered the Memory Room to converse with their ancestors about the nature of the Interdependency, only to be told flatly that the founding story every Interdependent citizen had been told and taught was a lie. Cardenia imagined that nearly every one of them had had to suspect—her own dream about Naffa telling her it was a scam was a manifestation of her subconscious, not an actual ghostly visitation, after all—but it’s one thing to suspect it, and another thing to be told it, by the simulated but verifiable representation of your ancestor.

  Because she was curious, Cardenia had Jiyi call up emperoxs at random to learn what they thought when they discovered—or had confirmed for them—that the Interdependency was founded primarily to benefit the Wu family and their allies. She had wanted to know how it affected their own reigns. Some had been surprised by their ancestors’ duplicity and used it as a spur to make the lives of the average Interdependent citizen better. Some had been delighted by their ancestors’ naked power grab and had gone about making sure that it stayed secured for further generations of the Wu family. Two were so appalled that they resigned, one self-exiling to End to become a farmer, and the other collapsing into nihilism, devoting himself to a life of “drinking and fucking,” as his simulation put it.

  But most emperoxs essentially shrugged and got on with the business of running the Interdependency. How it was created and who benefited from it was academic to the fact that it did exist and needed running, and that there was nothing anyone could do that would change that, not even an emperox. Emperoxs of the Interdependency were not meant to be radicals, in any political direction; ones that were found themselves discreetly removed and replaced by more tractable children o
r (if necessary) cousins.

  Certainly Cardenia had spent the first nine months of her reign being confronted with the immense inertia of the office of the emperox, and how tradition and obligation had hemmed her in. Was she not, right now, traveling by shuttle to tour a spaceship she didn’t care about, at the request of a politically connected family she disliked, with a man everyone but her wanted her to marry? Was this not, in itself, a metaphor of her entire life at the moment?

  Now, however. The end of the Interdependency was not only inevitable as a matter of physics, but desirable as a matter of species survival. The monopolies would have to go as each system gathered resources and prepared for their isolation. The guild and nobility structures would have to fall, as impediments to the continuation of humanity. The lie of the Interdependency—that it was necessary and desirable—was coming to an end, and Cardenia, who had never wanted to be emperox at all, would be the one to end it. Would have to be the one to end it.

  She was almost giddy about that fact.

  “We’re about to dock with the Sing Out,” the pilot of the imperial shuttle said over the speakers, and Cardenia nodded. She was traveling with a full complement of assistants and guards but at least some portion of the tour would be Amit and her alone, allowing the two of them moments of agreed-upon privacy to discuss whatever they felt like discussing. Cardenia assumed, on Amit’s part, that would constitute some fumbling overtures of affection.

  You don’t have to pretend you might marry him now, a part of Cardenia’s brain said, and that thought sent a pleasant shock through her system. It was true enough! The whole point of marrying Amit, or any Nohamapetan, would be to solidify the imperial house’s position with regard to the guilds and parliament, and to keep that wildly ambitious house in line, at least theoretically.

  But now there was no future to consider, at least as far as the Interdependency was concerned. Cardenia didn’t need to worry about establishing imperial dominance for another generation, or currying favor with the guilds and the parliament. All that was going away. All that was left was striving to keep humanity alive after the fall. Cardenia was pretty sure she didn’t need Amit, or any Nohamapetan, for that. If Marce Claremont was correct, and she strongly believed that he was, then within a few weeks everyone would have all the proof they needed that the universe was changing.

  Cardenia thought briefly on Marce Claremont, with whom she had felt comfortable from the moment he entered her office and laughed at it. Cardenia had intended the meeting to be private but formal, but something about Claremont made her change her mind. She’d dropped the formal address and fairly hovered over him while they spoke, and then maneuvered it so they could speak again later, over dinner.

  You’re attracted to him, duh, her brain said. Cardenia couldn’t disagree with that. He was smart, well-mannered, and cute enough, and it had been long enough since Cardenia had any sort of relations that that combination in any man within ten years of her age would have pinged her circuits. But it was something other than mere sexual attraction that Cardenia had responded to. As her shuttle docked she realized what it was: Claremont had reminded her, just a little, of Naffa. A little academic, a little sardonic, and someone who might see her as Cardenia, not as Emperox Grayland II. Or, at least, see her as Cardenia, too.

  Maybe I just need a friend, she thought. She smiled wistfully at that and then she exited the shuttle, into the bay of the If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out, where Amit Nohamapetan was waiting for her, along with at least two hundred workers who had built the ship.

  They all bowed as she descended into the bay. “Your Majesty,” Amit Nohamapetan said, as he drew himself up. “It is delightful to see you again.” It was then that Cardenia caught the look on his face: a strained but pleasant mask. Hiding something that was obviously stressing him. In spite of herself, Cardenia felt a momentary stab of pity for Amit. Whatever was going on with him right now, it wasn’t pleasant.

  Cardenia returned the pleasantries and allowed herself to be introduced to the shipbuilders, shaking hands with the supervisors and greeting the rank-and-file workers. Cardenia had gotten used to this aspect of her job; she did a lot of greeting and waving, and would for the rest of her life.

  Well, not anymore, her brain said.

  She shushed it and turned to Amit. “Are you ready to begin the tour, Lord Amit?” she asked.

  “Of course, ma’am,” he said. Cardenia held out her hand, in a formal but not unfriendly position. Amit gratefully took it and they walked out of the bay, followed by her retinue.

  A tenner is a large ship, and there was quite a bit of walking planned. The tour would include the bridge and engineering capsule, in the main body of the ship, and then the cargo holds and factories in the rings. It was during the part in the cargo hold that Amit and Cardenia would be alone, with her guards positioned in the ring sections behind and in front of them. Her people would have already been on the ship for hours, making sure it was entirely secure before she set foot on it, of course. It would be relatively low risk for her to walk a hundred meters with Amit by herself.

  The whole tour would take just under two hours, followed by an intimate tea service, also just between Amit and Cardenia. At which, Cardenia suddenly decided, she intended to tell Amit that he could forget about the whole marriage thing. That decision being made, Cardenia hoped she wouldn’t be too awkwardly quiet during the course of the tour.

  Ten minutes into the tour, however, it was clear that if either of them was being awkwardly silent, it was Amit Nohamapetan. He was offering the bare minimum of banter required before letting crew members stationed at their tour stops take over explaining the functions of the ship. Amit didn’t ask any questions, which might be interpreted as politeness, except for the level of distraction he was showing; he seemed not to be paying attention at all to the crew members’ explanations of their stations and duties. At one point Cardenia had to discreetly nudge him to get him to acknowledge and thank a crew member for their time.

  By the time the two of them slipped through the door of the cargo hold, the vast expanse of which was clearly placed into their itinerary to give the two of them a few moments of alone time, Cardenia decided she’d had enough. “Lord Amit, if this tour was meant to show your warm personal side to me, I’m afraid you’re failing considerably,” she said, as they walked.

  Amit smiled ruefully. “Yes, Your Majesty. Believe me, I am very well aware of that.”

  “Is there a cause for this?”

  “I received quite a lot of bad news today, I’m afraid.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Was it something personal?”

  “In a way. Mostly business, although as you know, business is often personal.”

  “I understand that better than most, I have to say.”

  “I have no doubt that you do,” Amit said, and they walked a bit more in the cavern of the hold, quietly.

  When they got to what Cardenia expected was the dead center of the cargo bay, Amit stopped and turned to her. “You don’t want to marry me, do you, Your Majesty?”

  Cardenia opened her mouth to say something placatingly but then “No, no, I really don’t,” popped out, and, well. There it was.

  “All right, good,” Amit said.

  “Wait, what?” Cardenia said, entirely surprised. “Begging your pardon, Lord Amit, but I was under the impression, from your sister most of all, that I was here to be charmed and wooed by you. You now being visibly relieved that I don’t wish to marry you is … unexpected, to say the least.”

  “I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”

  “I’m not,” Cardenia said, and it was Amit’s turn to be surprised. “I’m relieved that this tedious bit of politicking is over with. It means we might actually enjoy our tea together.”

  Amit laughed at this.

  “But I don’t understand why, after more than a year of a full push by your family, and by you, that you’re now relieved to learn that I have no interest in marrying you.”


  “It’s complicated,” Amit said.

  Cardenia motioned around them as if to say, We are totally alone; this is the time.

  “The short version is that we have been made aware that other houses believe we already exercise too much influence over you. At this point we run the risk of losing influence rather than gaining it, through close association with you.”

  “Well, I don’t know quite what to make of that statement, Lord Amit.”

  “I understand, Your Majesty. Suffice to say that guild and parliamentary politics are complicated enough now, and we have reason to believe they are about to become even more complicated in the future.”

  A warning went off in Cardenia’s brain. “How so?”

  “The matter of End, in the near term.”

  “And in the longer term?”

  “Well, who can say in the longer term,” Amit said, and started to walk again.

  “No,” Cardenia said, and stayed where she was, obliging Amit to stop walking. “Excuse me, Lord Amit. I don’t believe you’d throw away your path to the throne because of the rebellion on End. I don’t believe your sister would do that, either. There’s something more to it, isn’t there?”

  Amit Nohamapetan looked for all the world like a child caught raiding the cookie jar.

  “And this calling off of the marriage attempt isn’t something that you want, is it?” Cardenia asked. “Which is to say, this isn’t your idea. You’re being made to do it. By your sister?”

  “Not by her,” Amit said.

  “But you wouldn’t abandon this on your own,” Cardenia said. “So whatever reason you have for it, she signed off on it. But she told me that she was willing to give up her seat on the executive committee for you if I chose to marry you. Because the House of Nohamapetan being on the executive committee is obviously trumped by the House of Nohamapetan marrying into the royal family and placing an heir on the throne. So something has happened between when I talked to her, and now. What is it, Lord Amit?”