Christopher Nuttall - Democracy's Light

“It’s chancy,” he said, slowly. “What happens if someone else digs up the truth?”

“Your father did an excellent job of hiding it,” Daria said. “If someone did manage to send an archaeological team out to the remains of the world… well, they might dig something up, but the Imperial Navy left such a mess that I doubt they will find anything recognisable. I suspect that as long as Cordova remains himself, and continues to act the pirate buffoon to the horror of the grand dames of society, no one will even consider the truth.”

Tiberius nodded. He’d accessed the records on the world in question and had been shocked by the sheer level of violence the Imperial Navy had directed at it. The world hadn’t just been scorched, but literally pulverised with an antimatter bombardment — taboo under anything, but very special circumstances — and a handful of asteroids, pointed at the planet and allowed to strike the surface. The world was still highly radioactive and utterly unsafe. No one in their right mind would even use it as a penal colony. It would be quicker to shoot the convicts in the head.

“I take your point,” he said, finally. “So, what are we going to do?”

“Nothing, for the moment,” Daria said. “We’re going to watch and wait. The reporters will get enough material without us stirring the pot.”

“Clever,” Tiberius said. “Complete deniability, right?”

He scowled. The Empire had never had a tradition of open reporting. Public Information had decided what the commoners had a right to know and spoon-fed them with lies, distortions and half-truths, while anything reassembling real news was unceremoniously banned. The early reports of the rebellion had been wiped and replaced by a campaign of lies and invective, none of which had prevented word spreading faster than Public Information could counter it. The Empire had never managed to wipe out the messages from the rebellion… and, once Earth had fallen, Colin had closed down Public Information and sacked everyone involved.

The first-rank worlds, by contrast, had had a tradition of investigative journalism and thousands of reporters had descended on Earth to try to dig up scoops and dirt. The Thousand Families hadn’t taken kindly to this at all, but they’d suddenly found themselves without the weapons they’d once used to keep news out of the public domain… and, worse, found themselves the targets of all kinds of reporters. Some, like Kathy Tyler or Tiberius himself, had come out very well. Others had been publicly lambasted, including those who had authorised the scorching of Gaul. The Empire had changed yet again.

“Of course,” Daria said. “I think, however, that we do have a serious problem that we need to counter.”

Tiberius sat up straighter. Daria believed firmly in taking the long-term view of all matters. If she believed that there was a problem that wouldn’t go away on its own, with or without some encouragement, it was serious. Someone who had remained in exile for fifty years, patiently building up a new power base, was someone who couldn’t be treated lightly.

“Aliens,” Daria said, seriously. “You know that Colin intends to remove Imperial garrisons from their worlds?”

Tiberius frowned. “I was under the impression that you introduced him to alien rights,” he said. It was hard to be sure, at such a distance, but he was fairly sure of that report’s accuracy. “Is that a problem now?”

“I encouraged him to think along those lines,” Daria said. She leaned forwards and smiled, almost enchantingly. “Let’s be honest; none of the eight races within the Empire will become a serious threat overnight, even if the garrisons are pulled off their worlds tomorrow. Two of them don’t have any conception of high technology and think that human science is actually magic. Three of them may not even be aware that they’re in the Empire at all. God knows, no one has managed to actually talk to them in a sensible manner. That leaves three that have some industry and even some representatives in space, along the Rim, and none of them would pose a problem for a single destroyer. They’re not a threat.

“The general public doesn’t think in quite the same terms,” she continued. “The Empire hammered the threat of aliens into everyone’s head for so long that the vast majority of the population is adamantly opposed to giving aliens any rights at all. If the alien worlds were scorched, once and for all, they would cheer. People who hated the Empire for keeping a boot on their necks will see Colin and his people giving aliens a chance to take revenge on humanity. They will not respond well.”

She smiled. “And just what do you think that will do for Colin’s… reputation?”

“Nothing good,” Tiberius said, finally. He wasn’t used to thinking in such terms, but he suspected he followed her logic better than some of his peers would have done. Colin’s reputation was as a liberator, a man who’d risked everything to destroy the Empire, but now… now, they would see him as threatening the very survival of humanity. “After the Dathi War, no one will want a repeat…”

Daria nodded. The human race’s second major alien contact had been traumatic. No one really knew why the Dathi had attacked, but there was little doubt about their objectives; they had intended to exterminate the human race. Decades of fighting later, the Federation Navy had finally broken through the Dathi fleet and fallen upon their worlds. Every last one of them had been scorched down to nothing, but radioactive rubble, dead worlds orbiting uncaring stars. The entire Dathi race had been exterminated. There were rumours, from time to time, of missing Dathi colonies, but mostly they were invented by Public Information to justify some new security measure.

“And, of course, the threat is purely imaginary,” he concluded. “Unless you did meet some new aliens, out past the Rim…”

“No,” Daria said. “There were always reports of odd sightings around deserted stars, but mostly none of them were every backed up with actual sensor data, so…”

She shrugged. “The issue of alien freedom, of course, will become one that we will play on, using the reporters as tools,” she concluded. “I assume that you can handle that discreetly?”

Tiberius nodded. It helped that Colin expected his inner circle to disagree with him, even to argue with him, just to ensure that he heard every possible point of view. He would raise the concerns privately, while ensuring that they would become public. Daria was right, after all, the human race would be adamantly opposed to anything reassembling alien rights.

“Tell me something,” he said, finally. “Why alien rights? Why not the Union Movement, or the Socialists, or even the presence of Admiral Wilhelm?”

“Because alien rights are a harmless issue,” Daria said. “Whatever the people might think, the combined force of all eight alien races couldn’t harm the Empire in the slightest. The Unions, or the Socialist, or Admiral Wilhelm could cause serious harm to our interests.” Her green eyes held his. “Never forget, our objective is not power for the sake of power, but power for the sake of reforming the Empire. We must be careful to do no additional harm to the Empire.”

Tiberius blinked. “But this will do harm…”

“Of course,” Daria said. She paused. “You see, I know Colin. He’s a decent person, perhaps the most decent person I have met… and he’s at a loose end. His objective was to come to Earth, break through Home Fleet and kick the Thousand Families in their collective nuts. He’s done it, so… now what? He thinks in terms of doing the right thing and that, his sense of duty, is what’s keeping him on Earth, trying to reform the Empire. He sees freeing the aliens as the right thing to do… and he isn’t capable of delaying, or even stalling, because others might not agree with him.”