And besides, I couldn't have disproved most of the charges, she thought. She’d done terrible things to seize and hold power. They didn't have to work to find me guilty.
She glanced at Colonel Stalker, wondering what he was thinking. He’d been a loyal officer too, until he’d been sent into exile. The details were vague, but the broad outline was fairly clear. And Colonel Stalker had formed the Commonwealth ... the Empire would consider that treason, if it was still around. She wondered, idly, why Colonel Stalker hadn't declared himself a new emperor instead. Didn't he realise that those who picked up power could never put it down?
Her legs weakened, suddenly. A marine put out a hand to help her, but she shrugged him off firmly. They’d injected her with all kinds of truth drugs over the last week, forcing her to divulge everything from her first day in the Imperial Navy to her thinking as the war came to an end. She’d told them everything, of course. The training she’d been given hadn't been enough, in the end, to keep them from worming their way around her conditioning and forcing her to talk. She didn't think she’d kept any secrets from them.
Not that it matters, she thought. There’s no hope of escape.
She sighed. If she had any loyalists left, they were keeping a very low profile. The police had been slaughtered en masse, according to her guards; her senior officers had been taken into custody, while their juniors had pledged loyalty to the new regime. She wondered, absently, what had happened to Bradbury and Emma Foxglove. No doubt they’d find room for their talents in the new universe, if they hadn't already been executed. Emma had done enough to make her execution certain ...
If they knew what she did, Rani thought. And if they don’t find her useful.
The roar of the crowd grew louder as they reached the entrance and stepped into the bright sunlight. A giant mass of people were shouting and screaming at her, hurling all kinds of threats and obscenities; a row of armoured marines were keeping them from charging forward and lynching her, their armour glinting in the sunlight. Rani forced herself to stand tall and keep walking, shuffling up the steps to the gallows. A single noose hung down, waiting for her. She couldn't help thinking that she would have preferred to be shot.
A grim-faced man stood beside the noose, waiting for her. Rani held herself still as he measured it against her neck, then nodded to Colonel Stalker. The Colonel made a sign and the crowd fell silent. Rani felt a flicker of admiration, mixed with annoyance. Colonel Stalker had built a state of his own, too. The only real difference was that he had won the war.
“Admiral Rani Singh,” Colonel Stalker said. “You have been found guilty of seventeen charges, ranging from taking power by force and launching an aggressive war to encouraging atrocities committed against both friendly and enemy civilians. It is the decision of the court that you will be executed for your crimes. Do you have anything you wish to say before we pass sentence?”
Rani hesitated, considering her words carefully. “Many years ago, it was made clear to me that the universe is red in tooth and claw,” she said, simply. “Might makes right - practically, if not morally. Since that day, I worked hard to gain power so that I might protect myself from others. I did what I had to do to survive. That I lost ...”
She shrugged. Colonel Stalker would understand, she suspected. The crowd, which was booing loudly, clearly did not. But then, that had always been the way. They’d cheered her when they’d thought she’d won a great victory, even while they’d hated her. They were weak. They didn't want to admit that she might be right. It would make them victims, permanently.
The hangman motioned her forward, then hung the noose around her neck. Rani felt cold, as if she’d passed beyond feeling. Death was behind her, waiting. The crowd fell silent, again, as someone rang a bell. Rani felt as though she should say something else, but nothing came to mind. She hadn't lied to them. She’d believed she needed power and she’d done everything necessary to take and keep power. How long would it be, she asked herself, before Colonel Stalker faced the same problem? Perhaps he was facing it already ...
She dropped. Blackness.
***
“These are steep terms,” Mouganthu said.
“Yes,” Jasmine agreed. Colonel Stalker had dictated them, once the enemy fleet had been secured. She’d urged him to be harsher. Wolfbane was no longer in a good position to bargain. “But they’re the best you’re going to get.”
She watched him scowl at the datapad. Wolfbane was a mess, thanks to the uprisings: the government had been gravely weakened, private armies were running large parts of the cities and everyone wanted a change. The corporations were still in control, for the moment, but no one expected that to last indefinitely. Mouganthu and the other directors had been weakened too. They might survive, if they started reforms, but she wouldn't care to bet on it. Their weapons had been knocked from their hands.
“You want us to surrender all our conquests,” Mouganthu said. “And to refrain from rebuilding our mobile forces for the next ten years.”
“Yes,” Jasmine said. “But, at the same time, you don’t have to be occupied, you don’t have to pay reparations and ... and you don't have to waste your resources trying to keep your conquests. You can concentrate on reforming your government and rebuilding your economy.”
“Which isn't going to be easy,” Mouganthu pointed out. “Half our workforce wants to decamp.”
“A workforce consisting of conscripted immigrants,” Jasmine countered. “Do you expect them to remain here?”
She shrugged. “You can offer to pay them better,” she added. “You might get a few takers.”
“Perhaps,” Mouganthu said.
She didn't blame him for being leery, not really. Mouganthu and his fellows had been absolute masters of their corner of the universe for so long that they’d forgotten what it was like to compete. She had no doubt that removing the limitations on independent business would change Wolfbane, for better or worse. Mouganthu would adapt or his corporation would go the way of the dinosaurs. It wasn't as if he was in a bad position, either. He was the sole corporate director who was a genuine hero.
But he’s still going to have to work on it, she thought wryly. There won’t be any more free lunches.
Mouganthu keyed the datapad, signing his name. “There,” he said. “It isn't quite an unconditional surrender, but it's pretty close.”
“You have your independence,” Jasmine said. “And you still have most of your industrial base. You’re in a good position to dominate the sector. It isn't the end of the world.”
She smiled, inwardly. There were people who’d argued that Wolfbane should be kicked - hard - when it was down. They’d urged Wolfbane to pay reparations to each and every occupied world, to surrender vast segments of their industrial base ... even, perhaps, to give up control of everything outside its atmosphere. Colonel Stalker had argued against it, pointing out that Wolfbane’s economy was a mess. They wouldn't be able to pay reparations, even at gunpoint. It would just make a resumption of the war inevitable, he’d said. And he’d carried the day.
“No, it isn't,” Mouganthu agreed. “But it will not be easy, either.”
“No,” Jasmine said. “But worthwhile.”
She took the datapad and rose. “Admiral Singh is gone,” she said. “You can blame everything on her.”
Mouganthu laughed. “I intend to,” he said. “And we can bury everything with her too.”
***
“So far, we've had over seventy thousand requests for uplift,” Mandy said. Colonel Stalker nodded, curtly. “Roughly a third of those are conscripted immigrants, sir; the remainder are spacers who feel their talents will not be appreciated in the new Wolfbane.”
“Or have something to hide,” Colonel Stalker said. He shrugged. “Do we have enough lift capacity to take them all?”
“Barely,” Mandy said. “Life support is going to be a pain in the ass. We’ve already commandeered half of the freighters in the system, just to help uplift everyone w
ho wants to go. There will be others too, sir. Life in the new Wolfbane won’t suit them.”
“We will see,” Colonel Stalker said. “And the enemy garrisons?”
“We heard back from a couple of systems,” Mandy said. “They both surrendered without a fuss.”
She smiled to herself. Admiral Singh had clearly not been inclined to promote officers who might be a threat to her. Her garrison commanders hadn't hesitated to surrender, when they’d learned the war was over. Mandy rather suspected the rest of the enemy systems would surrender too, save perhaps for a few squadrons. Rounding them all up - and repatriating the enemy soldiers to Wolfbane - would be a logistical nightmare.
But these are the problems of victory, she told herself, firmly. The other side has it worse.
“Very good,” Colonel Stalker said. “Assign a squadron to remain within this system for the next three months, then prepare the remainder of the fleet to head home. We’ll have to deal with the other problems later.”
“Yes, sir,” Mandy said.
She made a face. Avalon would have learned about the Battle of Titlark last week, if her calculations were correct. The council would know that Colonel Stalker had gambled, that he’d led the remainder of the task force to Wolfbane. And they’d say ... they wouldn’t know what to say. They’d be fretting until the courier boat reached Avalon, bearing the news of a great victory and the end of the war.
They won’t be pleased the colonel ran off with the fleet, she thought. But they’ll be delighted that the war is over.
“It was a bold plan, sir,” she said. “And we won.”
“We did,” Colonel Stalker agreed. “And now we have to clean up after the war.”
Mandy nodded. “We won,” she said, again. “That’s all that matters.”
***
“I’ve been told you’ll be staying here,” Jasmine said, as she glanced into General Mark Haverford’s office. “Are you sure?”
Mark nodded. “There’s nothing for me on Avalon,” he said. “Here, I can work to rebuild my homeworld.”
“It will be difficult,” Jasmine said. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Mark said. “I choose to stay.”
He didn't blame her for being sceptical. Wolfbane was in a mess. But the government needed a military commander with an unblemished - or at least reasonably clean - record and a genuinely good reputation. Defecting to the Commonwealth looked bad, but helping to overthrow Admiral Singh counteracted that. There were opportunities now for ambitious men, he knew. He had no intention of letting them pass.
“You might wind up being killed,” Jasmine pointed out. “Or worse ...”
“I know the risks,” Mark assured her. “But what’s my alternative? Staying on Avalon? I don’t think there’s anything for me there.”
“Maybe not,” Jasmine agreed. She shrugged. “I’ve been told that we’ll be pulling out within the week. After that, you’ll be on your own.”
Mark winced, inwardly. The Commonwealth had handed over the orbital fortresses, but they’d flatly refused to return any of the captured starships. He didn't really blame them - it was what he would have done, if the situation had been reversed - yet it was a major problem he’d have to solve. Wolfbane was going to be vulnerable, even if her orbital defences had remained untouched. Sending out convoys without escorts would be asking for trouble. He had no doubt that pirates would come sneaking back into the sector now that Admiral Singh was dead.
And half the researchers want to go too, he thought, sourly. Professor Tobias Jameson - damn the man - and his staff had volunteered to go to Avalon. Their records had been destroyed, too. Recreating their work would take years, unless a copy turned up somewhere in the files. Admiral Singh had purged her private datacores before she’d been taken into custody. That will put us years behind the Commonwealth.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “If nothing else, it is one hell of a challenge.”
Jasmine smiled. “How true,” she said.
She saluted, briskly. “Good luck,” she said. “And I wish you the very best.”
Mark nodded, returning the salute. He had no intention of allowing Wolfbane to collapse, let alone fall further behind the Commonwealth. Given time, the corporations could start to innovate again ... and he’d be at the forefront of technological development. He had no intention of restarting the war, but he was damned if he would accept permanent subordination either. And he knew the corporations agreed with him on that.
He watched her go, then turned back to his work. There were thousands of little problems to handle, thousands of matters that demanded his personal attention ... at least, until he managed to build a staff. And then ...
His planet was a wreck. But his future seemed bright and full of promise.
***
She died well, Ed thought.
He’d seen hundreds of bandits and terrorists, or bullies and traitors, being marched to the scaffold and hung. They’d bragged of their willingness to face death, but when they’d seen the noose most of them had collapsed into snivelling puddles. They hadn't hesitated to send others to their deaths, yet when it came to dying themselves ... Admiral Singh hadn't died poorly, he conceded. He’d give her that much, at least.
He sat in his cabin, mulling over her final words. The universe was red in tooth and claw - that much, he knew, was true. And might did make right ... maybe not right, but it determined what happened. It didn't matter, in the final analysis, if it was a decision enforced by the local strongman or the police. The principle was the same. Might made right.
And yet, he knew there was something more. Strongmen ruled by dint of force alone. They lost their power when they lost their ability to project strength. Smarter strongmen set up institutions to give them some legitimacy, co-opting or suppressing other strongmen ... yet, what of democracy? What of it, when the strong could subvert the entire process?
Ed had never been particularly loyal to Earth. It wasn't something he’d thought about, during his childhood. He’d been too focused on the fight for survival. And yet, he was loyal to the Marine Corps, to the ideals of Empire. He wasn't blind to their flaws - there was no such thing as a perfect system - but he was loyal. It was the institutions - and the institutional mindset - that mattered, not people. The system came first, granting legitimacy to those who played by the rules. Individual might meant nothing compared to the power of the state ...
And so we have to keep people involved with the state, he mused. Or the state will fly out of control.
He understood Admiral Singh’s problem, more than he cared to admit. She’d taken power by force. She had had no choice, but to use force to keep that power. Stepping down would prove lethal. But in a better society, people wouldn't seek revenge - or even to overturn the law - as long as they felt it had been handled fairly. And yet ... how many people would believe it? Was Admiral Singh right? Was democracy just a veneer over barbarism?
The Empire fell because the people in power lost touch with the real world, he thought. He’d done everything in his power to make sure the Commonwealth never developed its own out-of-touch elite, but he knew that might not last. Will we go the same way?
He sighed. History told him that societies evolved. They changed ... sometimes, they decayed. But the damage could be fixed, if people were willing to admit that there was a problem and do whatever it took to solve it. And then ...
His wristcom bleeped. “Colonel,” Mandy said. “We’ll be departing in twenty minutes.”
“Understood,” Ed said. It was time to go home. Avalon was home now, to all intents and purposes. He never wanted to go back to Earth. “I’m on my way.”
Chapter Forty
“It has been my great honour to serve as your President,” Gaby said. Her voice echoed around the council chamber. “And, for my last speech, I’d like to offer a little observation.”
She paused, looking from face to face. “Right here, right now, we are having a peaceful transfer of power. Councillor
Sampson won the greatest number of districts, making him the next President” - she paused as the audience began to clap - “and he will be inaugurated today. He will move into the official residence and start to grapple with the checks and balances worked into our government.”
Ed nodded, slowly. Gaby had insisted on seeing out the rest of her term after the victory, although she’d come under intense pressure to step down after the Battle of Titlark. The councillors had not been amused that they’d been kept in the dark, although they would probably have overlooked it if Titlark had been a victory. He didn't blame them for fretting, not really. If he’d been defeated at Wolfbane, the Commonwealth might well have lost the war.
Wolf's Bane (The Empire's Corps Book 14) Page 40