“I expect each and every one of you to do your duty, one final time.”
He took a breath. Earth, the homeworld of humanity ... he’d never really expected to enter the Sol System with a battle fleet, not until he'd started to plan the first mutiny. Even then, he’d known the odds were against him. But the Empire was a rotting corpse, already dead; he knew he had the opportunity to win.
And even if they didn't win, they would be remembered. Others, one day in the future, would use the memory to encourage them to go for their enemy’s throats ...
“Jump,” he ordered.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The argument had started the moment the courier boat had arrived from Terra Nova, reporting that the shipyard was under attack. Tiberius listened helplessly as most of the Family Heads shouted at each other, bickering even as time ran out. He knew, with a certainty that surprised him, that the rebels were on their way to Earth. Once they captured Terra Nova, they wouldn't want to give the Empire any time to recover from the shock.
“Gentlemen,” Admiral Porter said. They ignored him. “Gentlemen, please ...”
Tiberius followed his gaze. New red icons had flared into existence, alarmingly close to Earth. The rebel fleet had arrived. One by one, the Family Heads turned to stare, their argument dying out as they realised that retribution was finally on its way. Tiberius looked from face to face and wondered, absently, just how they had managed to keep power for so long. But as long as they'd controlled the biggest stick in the galaxy, they hadn't needed to be subtle. Now, that stick had broken in their hand.
“They’re outnumbered,” Lord Bernadotte said, in the tones of a man desperately clutching at straws. “We can beat them.”
“I doubt it,” Tiberius said. Admiral Foster was no Admiral Wachter – and Home Fleet had been in a worse state than the Morrison Fleet, before Wachter had taken command. The rebels, by contrast, were battle-hardened and ready to fight. “We have to consider other options.”
“You mean surrender,” Lord Rothschild said. “Why would they accept our surrender?”
Tiberius forced his voice to remain calm. “We still control large parts of the economy,” he pointed out, smoothly. “If they refuse to accept our surrender on terms” – he knew what terms the rebels would demand, thanks to Gwendolyn – “we can cripple the economy and ensure that they inherit a wasteland. Not to mention force them to shoot their way past Home Fleet, if they refuse to deal with us.”
“They’d just agree, then go back on the deal,” Lord Bernadotte snapped. “Why should they honour any agreement with us?”
You would do that, Tiberius thought. If you thought you held the whip hand, you’d break whatever deals you made whenever it suited you.
“The rebels are trying to form a new government,” he said, instead. “If they break their word so blatantly, they will find it impossible to get anyone else to trust them.”
“None of the rebel factions will object to us being brutally slaughtered,” Lord Bernadotte pointed out, sharply. “Why would they care?”
“Because it sets a damn precedent,” Tiberius snapped back. “They may gloat at our misfortune, but what stops the rebels from doing it again and again?”
Lady Madeline’s image flickered out. Tiberius barely noticed.
Alarms sounded a moment later. Tiberius suddenly found his attention torn between the meeting and Sharon, who had burst into the conference room. She never did that; hell, it was the one room in the complex that was barred to her, unless it was an absolute emergency.
“My Lord,” she said, “the rebels are attacking the High City!”
Tiberius swore, then turned his attention to the other holograms. “We seem to be under attack,” he said. A glance at the live feed revealed that the High City wasn’t the only place under attack. The underground had been building up its forces and putting them in place. “I think our time has run out.”
There was a brief, silent consultation between the other Family Heads. “We take a vote,” Lord Rothschild said. “And then we abide by it.”
Tiberius waited, nervously, for the results. In the end, all of the remaining Heads decided to offer to surrender, on terms.
“You will speak to the rebels,” Lord Rothschild said. “Everyone else will withdraw to the security bunkers.”
***
“Not bad, for lads with only a few weeks of training,” Frandsen said. “They certainly never expected us.”
Adeeba nodded. There was one place in the universe where the Empire had to tread carefully – and that was Earth. And there was one place on Earth – the High City – where smashing an insurrection from orbit was completely out of the question. It still astonished her that the underground had managed to move a small regiment of men up to the walls, let alone deploy them without being detected. But they had done a remarkable job.
She glanced down at the terminal, shaking her head in awe. The underground leadership had admitted, finally, that they had a backdoor access route into the planetary defence network. If the imps wanted to shut them out, they would have to shut down the entire system, rendering themselves blind and mute. Instead, they would have to watch helplessly as the rebels took advantage of their system to coordinate their attacks. And the High City wasn't the only place under attack.
“Let’s hope the bastards see sense,” she muttered. “Or that Colin gets here quickly.”
She winced at the thought. There were Household Troops in the High City itself, while there were regiments of loyalist Marines and Blackshirts in orbit. If Colin couldn't get to them in time, the underground would do a great deal of damage, but would eventually – inevitably –be wiped out. But the aristocracy would have had a scare ...
Sure, she thought. And they will make the population of Earth pay for it.
***
Colin couldn't help being impressed by the sheer scale of activity in the Sol System, even though he knew that much of it belonged to the Thousand Families. Sol was still the most densely populated star system in the Empire; Earth, Mars and Venus all had populations that numbered in the billions. But most of the population was completely helpless to alter the course of the Empire.
“Home Fleet is deploying to meet us,” the tactical officer reported. “They’re not waiting in orbit.”
“Understandable,” Colin said. “The last thing they want is a missile to accidentally strike Earth.”
He studied Home Fleet as it advanced, pushing up and outwards to escape the gravity shadow. Their movements suggested that there had been some improvements, but despite their superiority in numbers Colin was confident of victory. The ships showed plenty of signs of ill-treatment, just like Morrison ... and their CO had clearly not been as good a slave driver as Admiral Wachter. In fact, he’d opened the fleet up to a disastrous strike ... if Colin had flickered in a little closer, he might have been able to obliterate the fleet in his first missile salvo.
Now, Colin silently asked the enemy CO, did you take a calculated risk or did you merely get lucky.
“Launch drones,” he ordered. “Is there anything from the surface?”
“Nothing,” the communications officer said. “Wait ... picking up a message using our codes. The underground needs help.”
Colin nodded. “Increase speed,” he ordered. There was no time to be subtle. “Take us right down their throats.”
He pushed himself back into his chair. One way or the other, he told himself, it would all be over soon.
***
Tiberius linked into the planetary communications network, then requested a channel to the rebel ships. It took longer than usual to open the link, reminding him that the rebels didn't answer to the Thousand Families any longer. Normally, if he wanted to talk to anyone at any time, they would be present within minutes. But the rebels could make him wait just for the sheer hell of it.
“This is Admiral Walker,” a voice said, finally. The voiceprint matched, according to the analysis, although he knew it was easy
to fool them. “What can I do for you?”
“We would like to discuss a truce,” Tiberius said, carefully. Had they waited too long? The rebels were threatening both Home Fleet and the High City itself, as well as hundreds of positions in orbit and on the ground. “It is time to end this war.”
There was a long pause. “Shut down Home Fleet and the orbital defences, completely,” Admiral Walker ordered. “Then tell your forces on the ground to pull back, leaving the underground alone. And then we can talk.”
Tiberius considered it for a long moment. If Home Fleet shut down, the rebels would have an easy set of targets if they intended treachery. But Tiberius had no illusions about how the battle would go. And, once the rebels won, there would be less incentive for them to seek peace on any terms.
“Very well,” he said. “I will issue the orders.”
“And then you can board my starship,” Admiral Walker added. “We will discuss the peace terms in person.”
“Understood,” Tiberius said.
The rebels held their positions as he boarded his private shuttle and launched himself into space. He’d travelled in space before, yet he’d never felt so exposed as the shuttle swept away from the planetary defence network and headed towards the rebel fleet. The blunt-nosed superdreadnaughts looked terrifying on the display, their weapons tracking him and his craft with effortless ease. If they had lured him out merely to execute him ...
He pushed the thought aside, desperately. He had to assume the rebels were sincere. Because, if they weren't, the Thousand Families were doomed.
***
Colin could see the resemblance between Tiberius and Pompey Cicero as the young man – he seemed surprisingly young to be a Family Head – stepped out of the shuttle. Colin watched through the display as the Marines met him, searched him with brisk efficiency and marched him through a series of airlocks and into a small conference room. Shaking his head, Colin left the display and walked through the airlock himself.
“Welcome,” he said, dryly. “I assume your messengers gave you our terms?”
Tiberius nodded. He had less practice than Colin at concealing his feelings, Colin noted, probably because he was still very young. On the other hand, his youth had led him to consider matters that the other Family Heads had found impossible to imagine. Colin hadn't been surprised to learn that it had been Tiberius who had proposed Admiral Wachter as Morrison CO. And it had definitely worked out for him.
“We still have cards to play,” Tiberius said. “Let me be blunt, if you don't mind.”
Colin smiled, then nodded.
“We control most of the Empire’s economic base,” Tiberius said. “If you destroy us, we’ll destroy the economy for good. It will take you years to rebuild, years you might not have.”
“True enough,” Colin conceded. “On the other hand, you must understand that you will not be allowed to retain power.”
“We will surrender our political power,” Tiberius said. “In exchange, we will maintain control over our industries. We will ... adapt to a universe of competition, where we no longer divide the pie up between us and exclude everyone else. In time, those of us who deserve to survive will survive.”
Colin lifted an eyebrow. “Are you confident of survival?”
“We have no other choice,” Tiberius said, simply.
He was right, Colin knew, but there was a great deal he wasn't saying. Even with the legal barriers to competition removed, the Thousand Families would still be in a strong position; they’d already own much of the industry their competitors would have to duplicate. Did they believe that Colin wouldn't notice? Or did they think that situation would endure indefinitely? There were already plans to expand the industrial base that belonged to the Roosevelt Family in Sector 117. Given time, there would be competition on equal terms.
It was tempting, he knew. Tiberius was right; the Thousand Families could shatter the Empire, even if in doing so they ensured their own destruction. But equal competition would either force them to reform or destroy them, soon enough. And yet ...
There would be rebels who would see it as a betrayal. How could they not? Their planets had been ravaged, their lives had been ruined, just to feed a monster that had eventually run out of people to eat. They wanted revenge, they wanted the Thousand Families to suffer and burn ... they wouldn’t like the thought of letting the guilty go free.
But if they did try to destroy the Thousand Families, the remainder of the Empire’s economy would collapse. Billions would starve, entire planetary economies would collapse in quick succession, law and order would vanish into nothingness, riots would rapidly turn into mass slaughters, ethnic conflict would be reborn ... a new interstellar dark age would be on the cards. It could not be allowed.
Colin took a long breath. He understood warfare, understood how to fight in space. But the Thousand Families understood political and economic warfare far better than any of the rebels. What if there was a sting in the tail? What if they’d already sown the seeds for their recovery? Colin would guard against it, as best as possible, but he knew he might miss something. What if he failed to keep the Families under control?
“There are conditions,” he said, finally. “You will not be permitted military forces of any description, nor will you be permitted political or economic intelligence agencies. We will keep a close eye on you and we will intervene if you do something we don’t like. And we will expect you to help us uncover the full nature of your crimes. Those ... individuals who are guilty of real crimes will be punished.”
Tiberius lifted his eyebrows, innocently. “And does that include events like the destruction of Dartmoor Station?”
Colin winced. Dartmoor had been a large orbital colony, owned and operated by the Edison Family as a retirement home for the family’s elders and some of their embarrassments. Five years before Colin had run afoul of Admiral Percival, a terrorist group had smuggled a nuke onto the station and blown it into debris, killing over five thousand people. From what Colin had heard, they'd claimed to be composed of people who’d lost all settlement rights to their homeworld because of financial manipulation. It hadn't stopped the Empire launching a crackdown on terrorist groups that had sent hundreds of thousands fleeing to the Rim.
“You won't be able to manipulate the laws any longer,” Colin said. “There will be changes.”
“We understand,” Tiberius said. “Perhaps we will even welcome them.”
Colin, suspecting he was being mocked, gave the younger man a long considering look, then stood up and headed for the hatch. Outside, Daria, Mariko, Salgak and Anderson were waiting for him. They’d watched the entire discussion through the sensors.
“You’ve heard what he had to say,” Colin said, once the hatch was firmly closed. He knew it was soundproofed. “Thoughts?”
“The Thousand Families underestimate us,” Salgak whirred. “Even if there are no major advancements in twenty years, the power of free competition will destroy them. Their skilled personnel will come work for us. Our facilities will produce better technology than their facilities. Those who had no choice, but to buy from them will buy from us instead. Their inflow of money will dwindle away until they run out of money. And then they too will fade away into nothingness.”
“Unless they are just trying to buy time,” Anderson objected. “Right now, they have nothing to lose by offering to surrender on terms. They’re going to lose their power and position anyway. But if they survive, in some form, they can plot to recover their power. It will take years to obliterate the patronage networks.”
He was right, Colin knew. Some clients were openly linked to their patrons. Others were far less obvious about their connections. It would take years even to identify them, let alone remove the clients from their posts. And if some of them were actually well-liked ...
Daria and Mariko exchanged glances, then Daria stepped forward. “Hester will not be happy with the decision,” she said, “but I feel we should accept. Right now, we can w
in the battle, but lose the war. Given time, we can edge them out of the power structure completely and neutralise their threat to the economy.”
“They presumably know that too,” Anderson countered.
“But we can keep them under control, which is more than can be said for chaos,” Daria said. “I don't think we can threaten starving rioters desperate for food to give to their families, let alone prevent piracy and outrages that will make the current situation look like nothing. We don’t have anything to threaten them with! There will be chaos on Earth – and across the Empire. We need to make the bargain, Colin. There's no alternative.”
Colin hesitated. He wanted to make the Thousand Families pay, but Daria was right. They didn't dare risk losing the rest of the economy. And Salgak, he hoped, was right too. Given time, the threat could be neutralised and rendered useless. The aristocracy would fade away, not with a bang, but with a whimper.
And no one else would have to die. He wouldn't have to slaughter Home Fleet’s crewmen because their masters were too pigheaded to surrender, let alone take out Earth's orbital industries or bombard the planet itself. The war could finally come to an end on excellent terms.
He stepped back into the conference room. “You’ll have your terms,” he said, slowly. “My people will occupy the high orbitals and Home Fleet’s starships, then land Marines in the High City itself. Your people will be protected.”
“I understand,” Tiberius said. He stood. “The Families Council will have no objection to your terms.”
Colin rather doubted it, but he kept that thought to himself. Maybe they would see sense after all.
He looked up as Daria brought in the single piece of paper, outlining the terms Tiberius read it quickly, then signed his name at the bottom with a real pen. Colin followed suit, wondering what would happen now. They’d won the war ...
Democracy's Right: Book 02 - Democracy's Might Page 38