Adam was shocked at the rapid turn of events and felt powerless to stop himself being railroaded somewhere he didn’t want to go. He thought for a second about trying to physically resist his father but dismissed it with a shake of his head as a stupid idea on so many levels.
They exited the transit tube together in silence, walking the short distance to the hanger’s entrance where a pressurised walkway was already attached to the yacht.
Alexander looked at his son and broke the silence. “Vimes has copied himself into the yachts’ systems. It’s a good opportunity for the two of you to get reacquainted, so consider it an order. Use both him and the transit time wisely to familiarise yourself with Navy protocols and what will be expected of you for the next six months. That way it won’t all come as a complete shock.”
Alexander stepped forward to embrace his son, but Adam pulled backwards, shaking his head.
“Yes Sire, your devoted servant obeys,” he said sarcastically, angry now at the realisation he was trapped. Turning around so his father couldn’t see the tears of frustration welling up in his eyes, Adam walked the short distance across the walkway to the entrance of the yacht. As he approached the door it silently opened and he saw lights coming on in the interior. Without a backwards glance, he walked through, the entrance closing behind him.
Outside, Alexander watched the door close and stayed there as the walkway snaked back into the wall. He looked at his yachts smooth, unmarked exterior, and tried to convince himself this was the right course of action, remembering the time when his own father sent him away.
“Keep safe, my son,” he whispered to himself, before squaring his shoulders and walking away, not wanting to see the yacht leave
Sadly, he had a lot of personal messages to record.
Scene 7, Planet Capital
Capital was unique in the Empire. Many worlds tried to emulate it, but none could compare to the natural beauty of the home planet. From Josef on, each Emperor or Empress had left their mark in some way, returning it back to nature.
Once the radioactive damage had been healed, caused at the time of the Empire’s founding by the nuclear missiles and orbital weapon platform used during the war, the next task had been to restore the damaged ecosystems. To that end, a large proportion of the surviving population had been encouraged to move away and join the ongoing exodus to populate new colony worlds. Probes had identified hundreds of potential planets for the race to expand into and for many the lure of clean water, large tracts of land to own, fresh air and a new start, was irresistible.
Instead of rebuilding their cities upwards, those who chose to remain decided to go down into the earth and live underground, a psychological legacy from the long nuclear winter and poisoned atmosphere. Huge cities were created, hollowed out of the living rock, protected from all the natural elements. Neither hurricane nor tsunami could hurt the people, safe in their comfortable, clean environment. Vast networks of high-speed vacuum tubes were created, joining cities below ground across huge distances. Construction of these habitats and transportation links was only suitable in tectonically stable regions, which further accelerated the returning of huge swathes of the continental land masses back to nature as whole regions became deserted. It was found that allowing the planet to heal itself was by far the fastest and least costly option when trying to make good the effects of war, overpopulation and heavy industry, requiring only the occasional technological nudge. By design or happy accident, the exodus off-world had led to the remaining population being less adventurous. Safe in their underground cities, they became natural administrators in their sterile, clean and safe communities. Although not in any way scared of the open spaces above them, the majority of Capital’s citizens preferred to use them only for holidays or to briefly enjoy the natural splendour.
When William, the sixth Emperor, made Capital the administrative centre and seat of Empire some two hundred and eighty years after its founding, the population took to their new role with a quiet efficiency, sealing the planet's transformation.
With large areas of the planet’s surface uninhabited or scarcely populated, Capitals wildlife thrived. With few outward signs of civilisation detectable from space, an unknowing observer could have easily mistaken it for a new colony world.
William had built his Imperial Palace near the coast, on a good sized island that lay a few dozen miles from a continental land mass in the northern hemisphere. Blessed with a temperate climate and seas warmed by tropical currents that came up from the equator, it was an ideal choice. After his death, it remained the main residence of the Imperial family, with subsequent Emperors building and remodelling it over the course of four thousand years. As each successive Emperor or Empress added to the Palace, the grounds continued to grow until they extended to cover just over six-hundred thousand acres. Consisting mainly of dense woodland, it had several large, landscaped parks and gardens which could be opened up to the public in times of national celebration or for invited guests at more formal diplomatic events. Less than twenty minutes’ travel time by a dedicated transit-tube to the main administrative hub of the planet, the Palace was close enough to make commuting bearable for those staff not resident there but also far enough away to allow for a measure of privacy.
The Palace building was large, built to a wide crescent design three stories high, with room for double the current twelve thousand household staff and Imperial administrators that worked there. At the centre of the crescent was situated the Royal quarters, with the remainder of the arc on either side facing the coast reserved as residential quarters for those staff who preferred to live at the Palace rather than commute. Inside of the arc, facing the landscaped gardens and lakes, were the Empire’s administrative offices and Halls of State for the thirty-six Sectors. The Grand Hall of Empire was situated at the East tip of the crescent, whilst assorted audience rooms and chambers could be found at the West end.
With both her husband and son away, Empress Christine was currently the sole royal occupant, continuing the business of running their vast Empire.
Empress, and joint ruler in all but name, Christine woke early as was her custom. Somehow she had never mastered the art of staying in bed and relaxing. She didn’t feel comfortable that Palace servants were already working hard on the day’s Council meetings and affairs of State whilst she lay in bed, so she always made sure she was one of the first to rise in the morning.
“Old habits die hard,” she told herself, rising and walking towards the massive smart-metal window that framed the large bedroom, her slim figure silhouetted by the morning light through the thin material of her nightdress. Following her standing instructions, Vimes always set the window to full transparency at the moment of sunrise. This was her favourite time of day and the window was perfectly positioned so she could take advantage of the views across the valley as it sloped down towards the sea. Whenever Alexander was away she found an almost spiritual comfort from watching the sun rise over the sea. They often watched it together, even after all the many years of their long marriage, not saying a word, yet taking comfort from each other’s presence.
“The day I get tired of this view they can take me away and shoot me,” she said out loud. “Do you agree, Vimes?
“No Christine, I don’t,” he replied. “Alex wouldn’t be very happy with me if I let anything happen to you, irrespective of whether you deserved it or not,” his voice coming from no particular point in the room.
She chuckled softly. “You needn’t worry Vimes, there are days I think he prefers your company to mine.”
Diplomatically, Vimes stayed quiet.
Lacking the genetic enhancements that her husband enjoyed which allowed Vimes to integrate smoothly within his nervous system, Christine had to rely on a less effective physical implant. To compensate, it was an infinitely more complex version than those used by Command Staff, in theory allowing her full access to almost every one of Vimes’ multiple systems throughout Capital. In practice, however, th
e sheer volume and sources of data under his control meant she rarely attempted to access them, sensibly preferring to leave that to Vimes. In the privacy of her own quarters, away from official business and the responsibilities of State, she rarely used the neural implant to speak with him, preferring to use the spoken word in their dealings. It had taken her many years before becoming totally comfortable with having him see and hear everything she did, especially as she always thought of Vimes as being male. Still, if she thought of him as a person she could at least address him like one, rather than give commands via the link.
“It’s silly to anthropomorphize an AI, even one so smart and almost human,” she thought to herself, not for the first or last time.
Turning away from the beautiful sunrise, Christine walked into her dressing room and checked over the clothes she’d chosen the night before, at the same time going over the days’ schedule with Vimes. Satisfied she’d not forgotten anything, she stepped into the bathroom and walked into the shower.
Washing away the last vestiges of her sleep with the hot, scented water, Christine let her mind wander back to her first few days in the Palace as a guest of her husband.
“He always used to tell me off for doing everything myself. It took him a while before letting it go and just let me get on with it,” she thought, “that’s one of his more endearing traits, never forcing me to do anything and letting me run the Palace and Capital my way.” She laughed out loud, remembering the scandalised expressions and comments from the various courtiers when she began making changes.
“Silly old fossils,” she thought, but they’d all come around to her way of thinking in the end. Unbidden, a song from her childhood came to mind and she gently began to sing, her voice getting louder as she got to the chorus. Ever thoughtful, Vimes matched it to her private music library and the musical track began accompanying her.
Laughing, she finished showering and dressed quickly, choosing the formal Navy Dress uniform required for the award ceremony later that morning. Dark navy blue, with the orange and black insignia of the Royal House discretely embroidered onto the left breast, it set-off her brown eyes and fine complexion. With only a few laughter lines at the corner of her eyes and mouth, she could pass for a woman of any age between thirty and sixty. The fact she was approaching her one hundred and eighth birthday, yet looked much younger, was one of the few small conceits she allowed herself. Christine had been in her early twenties when she’d first met Alexander, and from then on they’d spent almost all of their lives together, only kept apart by wars or the demands of Empire. Her life had changed so much after meeting Alexander, going from a commoner to Empress within such a short period of time.
Christine's forehead creased. Thoughts of her husband invariably turned to Adam.
“A good boy, if too headstrong,” she said out loud to no-one in particular, “so much like his father when I first met him, but without his modesty or caution. I hope Alex can turn him around on this trip otherwise we will have to take more drastic steps in readying him for rule.”
Smiling ruefully, she checked her hair one last time before setting off for breakfast, something she always shared with a selection of Palace staff, a custom instigated by her many years ago, much to the horror of the then Lord Steward of the Royal Household.
“Long dead now,” she thought sadly, the crusty old man had become one of her closest friends and advisors. His daughter now carried on in the role and did a fine job, but there had been something special about the old man that she missed. She had to admit, however, that his daughter did a better job of running Capital then her father, if only by a whisker.
Both she and Alexander insisted on no bodyguards inside the Palace, relying instead on the external security and Vimes ever watchful presence to keep them safe. The nearly successful Coup d’état, orchestrated many years ago by her husband’s uncle and other family members, was the last time Palace security had been breached. Although just before her time, there remained scars from the fighting left all around the Palace if you knew where to look. Alexander refused to have them erased, saying they reminded him of his murdered and greatly missed parents and family. Since those dark days, she knew Vimes and Alex had installed additional safeguards, and if she had been a gambler would lay odds there were one or two even she didn’t know about.
Taking a scenic route to walk through the gardens, Christine took the time to go through the attendance lists for the day’s meetings with Vimes, checking for apologies or any changes from the night before. Satisfied nothing had changed, she allowed herself a few minutes to relax and properly take in the beautiful gardens. Statuary were dotted around the grounds, some of past Emperors, famous citizens of the Empire or even favourite pets loved by the Imperial family over the millennia. The majority Christine didn’t recognise, but if one caught her eye she was able to look it up through Vimes, along with as much history or information as she desired. Some of the older statues were carved in stone and badly weathered by time and rain, but they remained relatively clean due to the lack of pollutants in the air. The majority, however, were made of various metals and better able to resist the ravages of time. An even larger number could not be seen, as they had been relegated, for various reasons of taste and aesthetics, to the woodlands, unloved and forgotten. On a number of occasions, when out walking in the woods, Christine had been startled by a life-like statue of a previous Emperor or Admiral appearing out of the trees, often covered with ivy or moss.
On the lawn she intended to cross, dew still clung to the grass, soon to evaporate in the morning sunshine. To her right, Christine noticed a dewy spider’s web, glistening as it swayed in the light breeze. She paused a few moments to admire it and the small spider busily repairing its handiwork. Looking around she breathed in the damp, earthy smell of the turf, enjoying the scented undertones of the many flowering plants artfully displayed around the grounds. Christine loved listening to the lingering morning chorus that could still be heard as the birds settled down to their daily business. Birdsong reminded her of home and took Christine back to the carefree days of her childhood, growing up in a large city with lots of parks to make up for the small houses and gardens.
Passing through a wooden arbour festooned with beautiful roses, each bloom emitting a wonderful scent and holding a few drops of dew, she walked across the grass over to the refractory’s entrance where breakfast was always served. Before entering she looked back at the gardens, noting her watery footprints on the lawn, tracing her progress across the grass.
Straightening her back, she smiled for her guests and entered the room, barely noticing more of the ubiquitous statues lined up against one wall, the other covered in ancient tapestries and artwork. Christine greeted each of the ten occupants, who were seated around a large circular table, by name. Deliberately chosen as a cross-section of experience and seniority, breakfast was a chance for everyone to discuss any issues with her, away from the formal pomp and ceremony of the Imperial Court. It was also a good opportunity for Christine to get to know her many staff on a personal level, especially those who would not normally interact with her. The relaxed setting and lack of formality had often provided Christine with valuable insights into what was happening in the wider Empire. She highly prized the perspective of real people, instead of the sometimes sanitised versions that too many courtiers preferred to tell her.
Taking one of the empty chairs, Christine pulled it over to a small gap between an old retainer who she knew well, and a young, fresh-faced woman she hadn’t seen before. After Christine sat down, servants began bringing in a selection of food that had been chosen beforehand according to personal preferences. Tucking into her favourite scrambled eggs and bacon, she allowed the conversations to wash over her before turning to the young woman sitting to her left.
“You’re Rebecca aren’t you?” she asked, despite having access to the young woman’s entire history. “How have you enjoyed your first few months at the Palace?”
Hesita
ting a little at first, Rebecca began to relax once she realised the Empress seemed to be as lovely as everyone had said she would be and the two were soon chatting away as if they had known each other for a long time. Two of the older retainers, who had attended these breakfasts before on numerous occasions, looked at each other and smiled, as they too recalled their first meeting with the Empress. She had a natural knack of getting people to open up to her, which had improved with the passage of time and royal experience .
“I’m still learning where everything is and the shortest routes to get around Ma’am,” Rebecca replied. “It’s trying to remember everyone’s name without having to ask that I find hard. I was never good with names.”
Christine smiled. “It took me a long time too but don’t worry, it will come, especially once you get your implant. How did you get selected for your post?”
“My parents both served in the Navy, Ma’am, and the Veterans Association found me this position. My Mother died whilst on active service a year ago. When my Father was selected to join the Emperors bodyguard it meant he would be away for extended periods, so the VA stepped in.” Rebecca went silent for a moment and Christine could see that the pain of loss was still close to the surface, only partially soothed by the passing of not enough time.
“The Navy always looks after its own, Rebecca,” Christine said, breaking the silence. “Until your Father comes back from his tour we will be your family here.” Moved to sudden tears at the young woman’s loss, Christine impulsively leaned across and kissed Rebecca’s head. “Never forget that.”
“Christine,” interrupted Vimes through her implant so only she could hear, “Sorry to interrupt. Would you like me to arrange for her father to come here and visit Rebecca when his tour is finished or whenever he has some leave due? He has a distinguished service record and it would be a pleasant surprise for them both.”
Imperium: Betrayal: Book One in the Imperium Trilogy Page 7