“The law plays a role here, too. Compliance with the law is always a net drag on economic activity, yet one cannot have no law. Throughout the two-hundred-forty-year reign of the Four Good Emperors, the Law of Ilithyia II was unchanged. It was considered the final statement on Imperial law. In the hundred years since the death of your great-great-great-grandfather, the law has grown to eight times the size it was a hundred years ago, after being unchanged for nearly two and a half centuries. It has been loaded up with preferences, and set asides, and crimes against the Throne, and all manner of nonsense.
“During the reign of the Emperor Trajan the Great – the fellow who killed through war or execution or suppression of rebellion no less than twenty billion people – a newsfeed could publish an editorial calling the Emperor a ‘right ignorant bastard’ without any repercussions to the author or publisher, other than readers dropping them because the Emperor was so popular. In fact, it happened multiple times. And the political cartoons of the time were treasonous by today’s standards.”
“Yes, Dr. Ardmore. I was looking at some of them in the appendix of your book. And yet he had a popularity rating in the high nineties. I can’t fathom it.”
“He did his job, Sire, and left people alone to pursue their own lives and goals. People knew that and appreciated it.”
Drake nodded.
“Shifting gears, Dr. Ardmore, how did the Emperor possibly rule without any bureaucracy?”
“They were all young men when they took the Throne, Sire. All four had been on the Throne nearly forty years by the time they reached the age you were when you ascended to the Throne.”
“I see, Dr. Ardmore. And all had degrees in history.”
“They or their Empress. Yes, Sire. And all had military experience. They were remarkable men, selected out of the population at large, not hereditary rulers. The one great mistake Augustus the Great made was to leave the Throne to his son, rather than to select the next Emperor on ability alone. Every Emperor since then has been a bureaucrat, not a ruler. Your Majesty should never have been Emperor.”
Ardmore blanched suddenly.
“Sorry, Sire.”
“No, no, Dr. Ardmore. I’m beginning to agree with you. It’s not that we haven’t had the best interests of the people in mind, we just didn’t know how to rule to achieve that goal.”
“Yes, Sire. I’m sorry.”
“So am I, Dr. Ardmore. Trust me. So am I.”
Drake’s stomach rumbled and he checked the time in VR.
“Dr. Ardmore, I am enjoying this discussion a great deal. Rather than stop here, could you possibly join me for lunch?”
“I would be happy to, Sire.”
“Housekeeping,” Drake called out.
“Yes, Sire,” a voice came from a speaker somewhere above them.
“Two for lunch in five minutes.”
“Of course, Sire.”
Drake got up from his desk and came around. Ardmore stood up when Drake did, as he’d been instructed.
“You’re a big fellow, Dr. Ardmore. Could I take your arm?”
“Of course, Sire.”
Ardmore offered his arm and Drake took it. Together the two of them – the beefy, stocky youngster and the tall, thin old man – made their way out of the office to the elevators past the raised eyebrows of Drake’s outer-office secretary and the elevator lobby receptionist. An elevator car appeared with two Imperial Guardsmen, and the historian and the Emperor rode up to the Imperial Residence level.
Once upstairs, the Imperial Guardsmen on watch opened both of the double doors to the Emperor’s side of the upper floor – the Co-Consul’s apartments were on the other side of the elevator lobby – and the pair passed through and walked down the hallway, two Imperial Guardsmen following along. They walked past the official dining room to the private living room. Ardmore saw a small table there, set for two.
“I often eat in here, to avoid eating with multiple generations of my family in the main dining room. Too much commotion for me, Dr. Ardmore.”
“I see, Sire.”
Drake looked at Ardmore with a twinkle in his eye.
“In your book, you said the Four Good Emperors all had a first-name policy in the Imperial Residence, did you not, Dr. Ardmore?”
“That’s correct, Sire.”
“Very well, then. You should address me on this floor as Jonah. My first name is Jonathan, but I never cared much for Jon.”
“Yes, Si– Jonah. And my friends call me Jimmy.”
“All right, Jimmy. Let’s have lunch.”
A Guardsman seated Drake, and Ardmore sat on the other side of the table. Household staff came in with a food cart and served them lunch. Business being set aside while they ate, Drake asked Ardmore about his family and his home planet of Lucerne. He was particularly interested in Ardmore’s great-great-grandfather, and how that relationship had seeded his interest in history. Ardmore told his stories, and Drake told his, and they laughed.
Ardmore could never remember later what they had for lunch.
It would be hard to overstate how bizarre that lunch was for Ardmore. It amounted to an out-of-body experience. Yesterday morning he was a poor academic whose magnum opus had been banned by Imperial censors for lèse majesté. Today he was having lunch, talking and joking, with the Emperor, with whom, on the Imperial Residence floor, at least, he was on a first-name basis. Bizarre didn’t begin to cover it.
For that matter, it was almost as strange for Drake. Surrounded by senior people who knew nothing and told him only what they thought he wanted to hear, he had finally found someone who knew what had gone wrong with the Empire, what had actually happened, and, at Drake’s urging, bluntly told him. He might, finally, be able to start putting things right.
Drake got up from the table after lunch, so Ardmore stood as well. His gaze wandered out the windows, down Palace Mall. More than a dozen statues of Emperors and Empresses on their pedestals, one taller than the next and some with secondary statues and structures at their base, dotted the Mall. Ardmore looked for and finally found the statue of Ilithyia II, unmolested but swamped by competitors.
“Set snacks and drinks for us, then you may leave,” Drake said to their server.
“Yes, Sire.”
Drake walked over to Ardmore and followed his gaze.
“In my youth, Jimmy, there was but one statue. Now it has become a forest of ancestors.”
“Only one statue belongs there, Jonah,” Ardmore said.
“And the rest?”
“Tear them down.”
Drake nodded.
“Perhaps I will.”
Drake gestured to two armchairs.
“Let’s continue our discussion here, Jimmy. It’s more comfortable.”
“Very well.”
Drake turned to the Guardsmen in either corner of the room on the door wall.
“Leave us.”
The Guardsmen nodded and left. Drake sat and waved Ardmore to the other chair.
“Guard,” Drake called.
“Yes, Sire,” the voice came from a speaker above them.
“Tell Mr. Moody that Dr. Ardmore and I are continuing our conversation upstairs and I will see him tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“And suspend audio monitoring until five o’clock.”
“Until when, Sire?”
“You heard me. Five o’clock.”
“Yes, Sire.”
A soft ‘bong’ tone sounded from the ceiling. Drake looked over to the light switches by the door and noted a small flashing red light on the panel.
Drake turned his attention back to Ardmore.
“They hate it when I do that, but there are even more sensitive topics to bring up. You had interesting things to say about the Imperial Guard, as well, Jimmy.”
“Yes, Jonah. In the time of the Four Good Emperors, all the Imperial Guard were combat veterans from the Imperial Marines, and the officers all earned their promotions by deploying with t
he Imperial Marines for extended periods. They were not the sons of bureaucrats in Palace sinecures.”
“Which creates a huge problem.”
“Yes, Jonah. You effectively have no security. They don’t even carry sidearms, as they all used to. It’s pure kabuki.”
“And as soon as I start changing things in any big way....”
“You will be in extreme danger. I’m afraid that’s true, Jonah.”
“So the first thing we actually need to do is to get the Marines back in here, Jimmy. How do we go about that?”
“We need to find the best people we can, Jonah. The absolute cream of them all. With loyalty to the Throne, not some sector governor or other.”
Ardmore thought about it.
“As a matter of fact, the best people might even be people who’ve been court-martialed.”
“How so, Jimmy?”
“How about someone who refused to follow a sector governor’s orders to act against Imperial regulations, for example?”
“Ah, I see. It depends on what the court martial is for. They may have been trying to maintain standards, obey the regulations, and got sacked for not going along with the nonsense. Reprimands would probably be good to search, too.”
“I would expect so.”
They talked on into the afternoon. At one point, three soft ‘bong’ tones sounded from the ceiling.
“Audio monitoring re-established, Your Majesty.”
“Heavens. Is it five o’clock already?” Drake asked. “Guard, suspend audio monitoring for another fifteen minutes.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Jimmy, I want to hire you. Court Historian or Imperial Adviser or something. They come up with the damnedest titles here. The salary will be good, and I’ll move you into the Palace here. Someplace downstairs for now. Would that work for you?”
“Of course, Jonah.”
“Good. I need you. We have maybe seven years, Jimmy, before I’m gone. Let’s get the Empire back on track. You and I.”
“I never imagined my work would have such impact, Jonah.”
“Oh, it’s good work, Jimmy. It’s really good. Now, work on the Imperial Guard problem for me. I’ll give you access to all the records. Figure out how to pick the right people, would you, and send me your hiring list direct. And don’t forget the officer corps. I need to get real military people in here, if we’re to get the Guard back on track. That’s first.”
“Absolutely.”
Three soft ‘bong’ tones sounded from the ceiling.
“Audio monitoring re-established, Your Majesty.”
Drake walked Ardmore to the hallway door and opened it.
“Show Dr. Ardmore to the Palace entrance, Guardsman.”
“Yes, Sire.”
Drake and Ardmore shook hands, and Ardmore followed the Guardsman down the hallway. He sent a message to Bob Fullman as they walked.
Fullman met him on the arcade at the Imperial Park West entrance to the Palace.
“My God, Jimmy. You were in there forever. What happened?”
“We talked about the book.”
That is all Ardmore would say, no matter how hard Fullman pushed.
“Good morning, Your Majesty.”
“Good morning, Mr. Moody. Be seated.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“I want to hire Dr. Ardmore as Court Historian and Adviser, Mr. Moody. Same salary as yours.”
“Sire?”
“You heard me, Mr. Moody. And get him an apartment in the Residence Wing.”
“I believe all the apartments in the Residence Wing are currently occupied, Sire. I think we have an apartment in the Imperial Research Building available.”
“Mr. Moody, are any of the apartments in the Residence Wing occupied by people who aren’t actually on Palace staff?”
“Yes, Sire. Friends of your grandchildren, children and relatives of senior officials, that sort of thing.”
“Fine. Give them all one month’s notice they’re leaving. Anybody but staff, Mr. Moody. And take one of them and move them into the Imperial Research Building for that month. Give that apartment to Dr. Ardmore.”
“But, Sire–“
“Today, Mr. Moody.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“That’s all for now, Mr. Moody. We’ll take up your other items tomorrow. You have your assignments for today.”
“Yes, Sire.”
Fullman and Ardmore went to lunch together in the cafeteria. The events of the previous day seemed unworldly to Ardmore in retrospect. Had all that even happened?
They were eating when Ardmore got the VR alarm of a Priority message. It was the Palace’s offer of employment. Court Historian and Personal Adviser to the Emperor, paying two hundred thousand credits a year, with a fifty-thousand credit sign-on bonus and a no-cost guest apartment and board in the Imperial Palace.
Ardmore started to faint. He picked up his water glass and threw its contents into his face, ice cubes and all.
“Jimmy. Jimmy, what’s happened? Is everything OK?” Fullman asked.
“I got a job.”
“Hey, that’s great. Where?”
Ardmore turned to Fullman with wonder in his eyes.
“The Imperial Palace.”
The Marine
Gail Anne Burke was born into a middle-class family on the planet Moria in Phalia Sector. She was bright and athletic, participating in various field sports through her high-school years and graduating high school two years early.
When Burke finished high school at sixteen, she applied to the Imperial Marine Academy on Imperial Fleet Base Moria. IFB Moria had been the primary fleet base of the Kingdom of Phalia over three hundred years before, and had remained the primary fleet location in the sector under Imperial rule.
Burke’s high school guidance counselor told her she wouldn’t make it into the Marines, given her age and sex. She should instead apply to the Naval Academy, but he sent on her grades and recommendations. Her football coach, an ex-Marine himself, told her she wouldn’t make it into the Marines, given her age and sex. She should instead apply to the Naval Academy, but he sent on her athletic ratings and his recommendation.
What they hadn’t counted on, though, was the magic of her last name. There had been a Burke in the Imperial Marines – her family line, not just a coincidental match of last names – for well over a hundred years. It was that, and her face.
The human race had been breeding itself back into one gene pool for three thousand years. There was no remaining pure strain of any of the races that had left Earth three thousand years before, as humanity had left most of its prejudices behind when it moved into space. It only made sense. Space and colonization were dangerous businesses, and you could either carry your weight or you couldn’t. And with those biases gone, what had been separate races had been breeding back into a single gene pool for a hundred generations.
The random mixing of genes reinforced each other in interesting ways. As a result, a hundred generations on, the complexions of people within the Empire varied from pasty white, through yellow and red, into brown and black, and every shade in between. No one gave it a second thought. It did, though, help in recognizing family lines.
Gail Anne Burke was the color of a cup of coffee with just a touch of cream, a rich golden brown. Her eyes were dark, dark brown, the irises lost in the pupils. And her hair was raven black and a mass of tight curls. When the admissions people at the Academy looked at her name and her coloring, they knew they were looking at a picture of the latest in the long line of Burkes to join the Imperial Marines.
Burke was accepted to the Imperial Marine Academy. When she left home at sixteen she was athletic and pretty, but still growing out of her juvenile softness. By the time she got out of the Academy, her face and figure had reached full adulthood and she had become beautiful.
Gail Anne Burke graduated with honors and became a second lieutenant in the Imperial Marines at the age of twenty.
As luck would have i
t, there were piracy rings working out of various planets out among the Western colonies. After being ignored for so long, the pirates were getting bolder. When they started venturing into Phalian territory, the Phalia Sector Governor decided they needed to be cleaned out
Burke’s first deployment turned into a combat assignment when her unit was deployed against the pirates. As the ground attack element, the Imperial Marines were sent in to find the pirates’ base, take it, and destroy it.
As the battalion advanced on the base, each company had its own area to cover. Burke’s platoon was in position for the next jump forward. She looked out over the ground in front of her, though, and got an itch she couldn’t scratch.
“Hey, Staff Sergeant.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“I know I’m a second looey and I’m supposed to stay out of the way and watch the adults play, but something’s itching between my shoulder blades and I don’t like it.”
“Is that so, Ma’am?”
“Yes. Look out there, Staff Sergeant. What do you see?”
“Nothin’ but empty pasture to me, Ma’am.”
That was it!
“Yeah, but the grass isn’t trampled down. And where’s the cow shit, Staff Sergeant?”
“I don’t see any, Ma’am.”
“Yeah. And why wouldn’t somebody let their cows out in this pasture, Staff Sergeant?”
Comprehension dawned on the sergeant.
“Because it’s mined, Ma’am.”
“Intelligence didn’t tell us the pirates had any mines, so I’m not sure, but it could be, Staff Sergeant. Can we get a drone with some IR out there and look for heat irregularities?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Burke signaled a warning up the command chain while Staff Sergeant Ogilvy ran an IR drone out over the field. She was watching the feed in VR as the drone went out over the field. Ogilvy diddled with filters until he got the right frequency range, and there they were.
EMPIRE: Renewal Page 3