Christopher Nuttall - Democracy's Light

“I think I’m taking power for myself,” he said, his voice surprisingly even. Anyone from the High City, she realised, would probably have taken the opportunity for a gloat, although Wilhelm had grown up in an environment where he had to learn control from a very early age. “I received a courier boat from Carola yesterday.”

Madeline winced. Carola Wilhelm, the Admiral’s ambitious wife, who was far smarter than most aristocrats had ever given her credit for. Between them, they were a dangerous combination, which was why she hadn’t raised any objections when Wilhelm had sent her to Earth, but now she realised that it had been a mistake. Carola’s loyalties were firmly with her husband… and, on Earth, she would have the perfect opportunity to serve him.

“She had quite a few interesting things to say about you,” Wilhelm continued, and her heart sank. “For some reason, the pair of you are regarded as traitors, people who shunned both the new order and the old government. Your Families have disowned the pair of you, although there may never be another Roosevelt now” — he eyed Stacy, who said nothing — “and you are both… surplus to requirements. I don’t need you any longer and there is no one back on Earth I can offer you too… so why should I keep you alive?”

“You can’t do this to us,” Stacy protested. She’d managed to regain enough control to speak, although her words were oddly slurred. “The Roosevelt Clan will seek revenge for my death…”

“The Roosevelt Clan no longer exists,” Wilhelm reminded her. “Haven’t you been listening? The core of the Roosevelt Family is trying desperately to ally with other Families, just to keep some part of the name alive. The other Families that you brought into your Clan have snapped all ties and are frantically pretending that they had nothing to do with you, just to avoid paying some of your debts. There is no one who cares what happens to you, either of you.”

He turned back to Madeline and smiled, darkly. “They seem not to have quite accepted our declaration of independence,” he continued. “They’re sending quite a large fleet out here, enough ships to crush the Sector Fleet — if that was all they were going to be facing, but its not, is it?”

Madeline composed herself. “And the other Admirals?” She asked, carefully. “How do you intend to divide up the Empire between the four of you?”

“The same way you did, back when you founded your Empire,” Wilhelm said. “We will become the next set of Families, after having destroyed the rebellion and the old set of Families, of course. We won’t waste time bickering over the future once we’ve scored a victory, but we will press the victory right to the bitter end. If you’d supported Admiral Wachter to the hilt, you would never have lost Earth.”

He leaned forward. “And we won’t make the same mistake,” he continued. “We will retake Earth after destroying the rebel fleet and impose our own order on the Empire.”

“You won’t succeed,” Madeline said, icily. “How do you intend to run the Empire without us?”

“The same way I arranged the shipyards here,” Wilhelm said, dryly. “I placed them in the hands of their workers, rather than the mangers you appointed, and productivity skyrocketed. Do you have any idea how many innovative ideas were just ignored because they didn’t come from the right person? If I promote on merit, rather than connections, or the ability to hide their real feelings… and, most important of all, I remove the Family influence, what can’t they do?”

He leaned forward. “That’s the problem the rebels have, now,” he said. “I won’t have that problem.”

“Fine,” Madeline said, angrily. “You’ve won. Well done. What now?”

“You’re going to kill us,” Stacy said, in a small voice. Perhaps, Madeline decided, the reality of the situation had finally gotten through to her. “What did we ever do to you?”

Wilhelm stared at her. “You forced me and others to hide what we were behind a dumb mask, swallowing your insults and taunts, denied the positions we could reach through talent because you didn’t trust us,” he said, very coldly. “Do you have any right to be surprised when we prove you right and turn on you?”

Madeline met his eyes. “Do you have to gloat?”

“I spent years planning what I would say to you and the others like you if I ever had the chance,” Wilhelm said, calmly. “Why should I not gloat?” He leaned back from her and stood up. “The rebels are, understandably, a little irritated about the destruction of their ships. I think that you two might make suitable scapegoats, don’t you?”

He looked over at the guards. “Take them away to the special cells,” he ordered. “Put them in together, but otherwise completely isolated. We wouldn’t want them talking to anyone else until we were ready to deal with them properly, would we?”

Madeline stood with icy dignity and allowed the guard to lead her out of the room, holding Stacy’s arm with one hand. Wilhelm had kept them alive — or seemed to have decided to keep them alive for now — and she tried to convince herself that it was a mistake. If he handed them over to the rebels, alive, they could tell them everything… and so they wouldn’t be handed over alive. There would be an ‘accident’ before the rebels demanded to see them, if they ever did. They were alone.

The special cell was every bit as bad as she had imagined. It was a tiny box, barely large enough for them both to stand up in, dark and grimy, without even graffiti on the walls. Stacy had retreated completely inside herself, perhaps seeking the safety of madness, but Madeline refused to allow herself to go the same way. While there was life, there was hope… perhaps.

Admiral Wilhelm watched the two aristocratic bitches being escorted away and felt curiously numb. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Madeline that he’d dreamed of the day when he could spit in the collective eyes of the Thousand Families, but now the moment had come, he felt oddly conflicted. He hadn’t realised just how weak the Empire actually was, although he was honest enough to admit that he’d seen the signs, but he hadn’t read them correctly. As a person on the fringes of high society, married to a smart and brilliant woman — and with all the luxuries of his position — he hadn’t really had an incentive to rebel. Trying and failing would have meant the loss of the luxuries, the power, the… well, everything, really. He would have been executed, along with his wife and the remainder of his family, pour encourager les autues .

And a mere Commander starts a revolt that set the galaxy on fire , he thought, as he stepped out of the hatch and headed up towards his personal quarters. One advantage of having spent ten years effectively running a sector was that he had managed to identity and eliminate most of Imperial Intelligence’s spies, although he knew that nothing was ever certain where Imperial Intelligence was concerned. They might well have managed to sneak a handful through his precautions, even though he would have preferred to believe otherwise, and a single spy in the wrong place could be disastrous. It helped that Earth itself had fallen. Any spies left in his command would probably be wondering just who they should be reporting to these days.

He reached his quarters, accepted the salute from the Marine guarding the hatch, and stepped inside. There were signs of Carola’s presence everywhere, from the handful of tasteful paintings to the small collection of pre-space novels — forbidden to anyone without a special licence — on one wall and he felt a sudden pang of sorrow that she was gone. Their marriage had lasted far longer than anyone had expected — anti-aging treatments had ensured that most marriages eventually ended in divorce — but now he missed her. There was no one else he could send to Earth, no one else who could be trusted to represent his interests only, but the price was high. They’d always been honest with each other and he depended on her advice more than he liked to admit.