Marius nodded in understanding. Admiral Justinian was only the first of many warlords who’d declared their independence and had set up their own fiefdoms. If they ever allied together, they might be able to bring down the Federation—but fortunately, most of them only seemed to want to hold on to what they had. But ONI’s long-term predictions were not hopeful. If Admiral Justinian wasn’t beaten within five years, nothing could save the Federation from collapse. And that would be the end of humanity’s unity.
Marius had asked Arunika, in private, what would follow the end of the Federation. She had tried to project it out, but the results hadn’t been precise. She thought there would be clumps of human worlds that would inherit much of the remaining military force, alien worlds declaring independence and attempting to build up their own starships, the Outsiders pushing into the Rim and setting up their own empires...it would spark an endless series of galactic wars before some new authority managed to reunite humanity.
But the worst-case projection showed humanity being exterminated or enslaved by alien overlords.
“Scared?” he asked Kratman after a long pause. “Maybe they should be. But why be scared of me?”
Professor Kratman grinned.
“Think of this marriage as a gesture of their faith in you. They lost control of Admiral Justinian when he went rogue because he wasn’t really bound to them. You, on the other hand, will be offered the chance to add your genes to High Society. Your long-term interests will be united with theirs.”
“Right,” Marius said. “And if the marriage isn’t a happy one?”
“You do realize that all you are really being called upon to produce is children, which you could grow in an artificial womb if you wish,” the Professor pointed out. “There’s no reason for you to spend any more time with her after the wedding, even if they insist on her going back with you to your command. High Society might even expect that, because many of their marriages are in name only.”
“That’s heartless,” Marius protested without energy. “Why...?”
“They’ve been the lords and masters of all of known space for centuries,” the Professor reminded him tartly. “They know that their methods work. It’s quite natural for them to stick with something they know has worked in the past. What’s the happiness of one young girl—who will have a chance to find happiness later, perhaps in the arms of a lover—compared to ruling the galaxy?”
Marius closed his eyes for a long moment.
“I assume that I don’t have much choice in the matter,” he said finally.
Professor Kratman nodded.
“Very well, then.” Marius switched topics. “I want to know why the Brotherhood is so interested in me.”
The Professor said nothing for a long moment. “And have you agreed to join?” he finally wondered.
“You made a very convincing offer,” Marius said flatly. “As I told Arunika, I have agreed to join the Brotherhood. She sent me to you.”
The Professor looked at him for a long moment.
“It goes without saying, I hope, that the Brotherhood values its secrecy very highly. Disclosure of anything relating to the Brotherhood without permission will result in your termination, along with anyone you might have shared any information with. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” Marius said. “I won’t betray you.”
“You have secure implants already,” the Professor said. “You won’t betray us willingly, but you understand that we are more than a little paranoid with new members. You are unusual because you already possessed a high rank when we contacted you, one that you don’t owe to us—well, not directly.”
“Your messenger claimed that you orchestrated the press campaign in my favor,” Marius pointed out.
“We did,” Professor Kratman admitted. “It was fairly easy, to be honest. We’ve controlled many of Earth’s foremost media outlets for centuries. We use them to make sure that the Brotherhood’s agenda is put forward at all times, helping to ensure that the Federation doesn’t follow us, but walks in the direction we want it to go. We constantly remind people of how aliens can never be trusted, ensuring that the idealists who intend to revoke the anti-alien laws never get a chance at a fair hearing. We also bolster the position of the Senate to some extent, ensuring that wild cards are rarely elected into power.”
Marius considered it. Wouldn’t that have played a role in the Senate’s corruption?
“The Brotherhood sees the rise of the warlords as the greatest threat to human unity and supremacy since the Inheritance Wars,” Kratman went on. “If they succeed in shattering the Federation, the human race will be weakened, leaving us vulnerable to the Outsiders. Worse, if the Senate succeeds in clamping down and pushing the entire Federation into lockdown, the Federation will rot apart from within. There will be yet another round of Inheritance Wars as the colonies strive to break away from the dying center of human civilization. We cannot allow such an outcome, Marius, and you are in a good position to assist us in deflecting it.”
Marius considered for a long moment. He knew that the Professor was right, at least to some extent. The Core Worlds had been draining the colonies for a long time, while making it harder for their citizens to get a decent education and therefore crippling themselves in the long run. The Federation had been quietly discouraging innovation and scientific research for centuries, turning universities and research labs into places where the status quo was maintained and nothing else. The Federation had been stagnating for a very long time and stagnation meant eventual death. There was no hope of reinvigorating the Federation without something to help force through the reforms.
“Maybe we should act to limit the primacy of Earth,” he offered after a long pause. “If we could break down the voting system...”
“We might cause a civil war,” the Professor said. “Do you think that everyone who has vested interests based on the current system would accept its collapse without a fight?”
“We already have a civil war,” Marius pointed out. He turned and focused on the professor. “What does the Brotherhood want from me?”
“We want you to win the war,” Professor Kratman said. “The longer the current stalemate lasts, the greater the possibility of the Federation tottering and falling apart. Admiral Justinian may win by default.”
Marius snorted.
“I have been trying to win the war since it was declared,” he said sarcastically. “We’re not going to be able to beat him without breaking through into Jefferson and then into Harmony—and doing that requires a far greater commitment of mobile firepower than I have. Can the Brotherhood convince the Senate to cut loose half of Home Fleet and allow me to use it on an extended mission?”
“Maybe,” the Professor said. “Could you guarantee them a victory?”
“Nothing is certain in war, as you know very well,” Marius reminded him. “Tell me something—how much influence does the Brotherhood actually have?”
“A considerable amount in some places, and none whatsoever in others,” the Professor said dryly. “You’ll understand if I refuse to give details.”
Marius nodded. “How much influence do you have in the Zathras Sector?”
“A fair number of agents, including several who remained at their posts during the coup,” the Professor said. “What would you like us to do with them?”
Marius looked down at his hands. The idea was only half-formed and he knew, from experience, that trying to push an idea out too quickly meant that it often refused to form perfectly.
“If we could send the sector into chaos, or even make an agreement with Hartkopf, we could send a fleet through the sector and into Admiral Justinian’s territory,” he said as the idea started to slowly come together. “Stab at Harmony through Jefferson—or, perhaps, cross the gulfs of space and hit him from behind. And then we’d have him on the run. We could win the war within two years, providing the Senate agreed to cut loose the mobile firepower and agreed to give me authority to negoti
ate.”
“Tricky,” Professor Kratman observed. “You’re talking about convincing them to leave his head on his shoulders. And then you’d have to do something about Hartkopf...”
“If we can’t make a deal with him,” Marius said, “could the Brotherhood assassinate him?”
“I’d have to consult with my superiors,” the Professor said. “Direct action is always dangerous because it risks exposing the Brotherhood. The Senate might start taking us seriously and perhaps even trying to hunt us down. The prospect of someone with that kind of power not under their control...well, I’m sure you can understand that that would make them panic.”
“Yes,” Marius said. He grinned. “But I thought you wanted to win the war?”
* * *
It had been three years since Marius had set foot in Luna Academy, but he’d privately decided to visit and inspect the new facilities even before Arunika had asked him to meet with the Professor. The five thousand new cadets seemed less focused and determined than they had been when he’d been a student there, although that might just have been because of his own, poor memory. The thought made him smile as he passed a group of cadets cleaning the floors as punishment duty. Every generation thought that the younger generation didn’t have what it took.
He looked in on the history class and frowned when he heard the speaker. She was a newcomer, wearing a uniform that somehow didn’t look right on her, even though it had been perfectly tailored. Her sallow face promised trouble for anyone who didn’t listen carefully to her and answer the questions perfectly. Her lecture was nothing more than political indoctrination, teaching the cadets that they had a duty to the Federation Senate more than anything else. They were being encouraged to rat on their friends, fellow cadets and even superior officers if they heard them making disloyal statements. Marius was horrified and walked away, wondering just how they meant to maintain a chain of command if junior officers were ordered to inform on senior officers.
It got worse in the next class. The cadets were being taught a very different version of the rules of war. The Federation Navy took prisoners where possible, but now the cadets were being told that rebels and warlords—and their followers—were owed nothing, not even food and water. They were traitors, after all, and traitors deserved nothing more than death. The lecturer even spoke about bombarding worlds like Jefferson—which had had no choice but to serve Justinian—back into the Stone Age. And then there was the discourse on political traitors, such as the colonists who wanted independence from the Federation.
Absently, Marius used his implants to call up a class roster and swore under his breath. The entire class—every cadet who had entered Luna Academy in the last two years—was from the Core Worlds. There wasn’t a single colonial.
“It’s been getting worse over the last two years,” Professor Kratman said when he found Marius watching a space combat simulation. The combat simulations didn’t seem to have changed much, thankfully. “The Senate has been ordering the incorporation of political courses into both the Academy and the training camps. Those cadets who don’t have a perfect measure of political reliability will not be allowed to graduate as Firsts. I suspect that in the long run, cadets without a perfect measure will not be permitted to graduate at all.”
“How can you allow this?” Marius turned to look at him.
“Do you think that we were given much of a choice?” The Professor shrugged and shook his head.
“But...” Marius wasn’t sure how to finish that question, not without offending the Professor and the Brotherhood. What good were they if they allowed this travesty?
“That isn’t the worst of it,” he added. “You’ll see men in black suits down on the surface; I suggest that you avoid them. They’re the new Internal Security Division, with authority to question anyone they think might be hiding rebel sympathies and to detain—without trial—anyone who fails the interrogation. Several very good retired officers have vanished into holding cells and never been seen again after being picked up by the Blackshirts.”
“The Blackshirts?” Marius stared at him.
“It seems to be a common feature of every internal security unit that they wear black uniforms,” Professor Kratman said, irony heavy in his tone. “I wonder if they know that they’re merely the latest in a long line of repressive organizations. Humans have been forming secret police groups ever since we discovered fire.” He frowned. “Incidentally, be careful how much encryption you use, even on Federation Navy channels. They’re hacking into some communications and could consider the heavy use of encryption to be a sign of disloyalty.”
“Disloyalty,” Marius repeated. The whole concept was absurd. “I couldn’t think of anything more likely to make people disloyal, Professor.”
“No,” Professor Kratman agreed. “I can’t either. But the Senate is scared, and scared people do stupid things. I think you’ll probably wind up with political officers on your ships watching your every move. I’d be surprised if you didn’t already have a spy or two beside you, keeping an eye on you. As I’ve said before, watch your back.”
His eyes narrowed. “There are some of us who believe that the Senate intends to move into a complete lockdown on the entire Federation once the war ends...and that will really blow up any hope of a stable Federation. There will be a thousand rebellions, if that happens, and the Federation Navy will schism. Again. It will destroy us. Win the war quickly, admiral.”
“I’ll try, sir,” Marius said, and nodded. For a moment, they were captain and lieutenant again. “Thank you.”
“You’ll need this,” Professor Kratman said, pulling a small box out of his pocket and passing it to Marius.
Marius opened the box. It held a simple silver ring, like the one Arunika had worn when they’d first met.
“I suggest that you keep it somewhere very secure and don’t let anyone else wear it. It will kill anyone but you.” Kratman smiled at Marius’s expression. “We take our security seriously, as I told you. Anyone who has a ring and refuses to put it on at request is probably a ringer. You have been warned.”
He stood up and slapped Marius on the shoulder. “Go and get married, young man. You deserve a break before you go back to the war.” His voice lowered. “And by then, we might know what we can do to help you with Governor Hartkopf.”
“Thank you,” Marius said. He pocketed the ring and held out a hand. The Professor took it and they shook firmly. “Can I invite you to the wedding?”
“I’m only a mere professor these days,” Kratman said dryly. “Don’t you think it would attract attention?”
Chapter Thirty-Three
As a High Society marriage is more about the politics than the young couple, it isn’t unknown for the wedding to be a place for private deal-making and political planning.
-An Irreverent Guide to the Federation, 4000 A.D.
Earth, Sol System, 4095
“You must be Marius,” the girl said. She sounded oddly reluctant to talk. “I am Tiffany.”
“Yes,” Marius said. His mouth felt dry. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“It would have been nicer if Daddy Dearest had given me more than a day’s warning,” she said, eyes flashing. “I could probably have bypassed the lock-outs and escaped to the Rim before you reached Earth.”
Marius found himself, again, at a loss for words.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said seriously. “You didn’t choose me and I didn’t choose you.” She stepped back and gave him a frank inspection. “At least you’re not as ugly as Senator Montgomery. Seventy years old if he’s a day, and he looks five hundred. He needs to spend more money on improving his appearance.”
“I think it’s part of his charm,” Marius said, and snorted.
Senator Montgomery was thrifty and utterly impossible to shift from the Senate, mainly because he knew where all of the bodies were buried. It took a very special person to make the Conservative Faction look like a bunch of raving progressives, but Montgome
ry managed it, somehow. Any change at all was anathema to him and his enemies had been heard to joke that the only reason he wasn’t richer was because he was determined not to change his finances.
His wife-to-be snorted too. “What charm?”
“Precisely my point,” Marius said. “Look, I didn’t ask for this...”
“I know.” Tiffany winked at him. “I’m sure you would have chosen someone much prettier if you had a free choice.”
She made a show of spinning around in front of him. Marius had to admire her, for there was nothing artificial about her looks. She was young. He knew that it wasn’t uncommon for Senators to have vast age differences between them and their brides, but Tiffany was nearly sixty years younger than him. Her long red hair set off her white dress nicely, while the dress itself pinched her body in all the right places. If they’d met while he’d been on leave, without his responsibilities to worry about, he might have tried to pick her up.
“You’re beautiful,” he said truthfully. Her face wasn’t as inhumanly perfect as some of the joy-girls he’d known as a younger officer, but the few defects added character. Tiffany might grow up into a very strong woman if her family didn’t cut her down first, or High Society show its traditional resentment of anyone trying to rise above their station, but he didn’t know how to say that to her. “I think...we might do well after all.”
He cringed, feeling like a young officer again. That had sounded lame.
Tiffany sobered quickly.
“I know that this wasn’t your choice,” she said, holding out a hand. “Let’s make the best of it, shall we?”
“Why not?” Marius took her hand.
He felt strange, holding the hand of his arranged bride, yet he also felt oddly comfortable in her presence. She was showing a remarkable amount of calm. If he’d been told that he had to marry a complete stranger—and a stranger so much older than himself—he would have been throwing himself at the walls.
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