Christopher Nuttall - Democracy's Light

He cast his gaze over the endless swarm of incoming aircars and muttered a curse under his breath. He hadn’t realised, not really, just how many people would be coming to Tiberius’s wedding; after all, he had invited all of the Thousand Families, and as many of the real movers and shakers as he could. The MPs had been invited as a body, although Colin had heard that only a third of them were going to attend, while several of the Families that disliked Cicero had refused to send more than token representation. Colin would have been happier if Blondel hadn’t been accompanying him, but there was no way to avoid inviting the Empire’s Prime Minister. He hadn’t even had time to warn her about the possibility — the near-certainty — that someone would make an attempt on his life.

Her face was darker than he’d expected when he looked at her. He could guess at her thoughts. The men and women who owned such vast estates — the Cicero Estate wasn’t even the largest on the planet — had torn Macore, her homeworld, apart, just to add a few extra megacredits to their holdings. It wouldn’t even have saved the Empire, or delayed economic collapse for any time at all; if Kathy was right, only the most draconian of measures would save the Empire, and looting a tiny economy was actually counter-productive. It hadn’t been a necessary evil. It had been a cold, petty and banal evil.

Macore would have had a simpler way of dealing with Tiberius as well. A suspect in a crime, any crime, would be interrogated under a lie detector. If found innocent, he would be freed at once, while if found guilty he could be tried and sentenced. The Empire had had similar policies, but someone of Tiberius’s rank would have been immune merely because of his name, even if he committed the most vile crimes imaginable. The Thousand Families were long used to burying their mistakes, sweeping their outcasts and criminals under the carpet, those who had shocked the hardened governors of high society. It would have to be serious for anyone even to care, let alone cutting the culprit dead in the streets. In order to get the proof, inarguable proof, that he needed, he had to expose his back to a sword wielded by one of his closest allies. He would have laughed under other circumstances.

“They made this world into their palace,” he agreed, as the aircar dropped neatly to the ground in front of the main entrance. Flower girls, wearing outfits that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, greeted them at once, inviting them to enter the building and treat it as their own home. Judging from the number of MPs that were already surrounding the buffet, the invitation was being accepted by almost everyone. “Shall we enter?”

Colin had grown up in a fairly middle-class home on one of the second-rank worlds. It hadn’t been an easy life, but it hadn’t been a hard one, and it wasn’t unknown for some of the inhabitants to make something of themselves, provided that they escaped being noticed by the governors. His family had always had to work to put food on the table, however, and he’d been used to working from a very early age… but looking into the entrance hall was like looking into a different world. The men and women who ran the Empire, or used to run the Empire, wanted for nothing and it showed.

The entrance hall would have outshone the greatest hall on his homeworld. Everywhere he looked, he could see men and women having a good time, carefree and wanting for nothing, although he could see some of them looking around to ensure that no one else was having a better time. As he studied them, refusing to be pushed along by the flower girls, he saw signs that all was not right. Some of the men were desperate, trying hard to convince themselves that they belonged her, laughing too loudly at every little incident. Some of their dates were growing heartily sick of them and were already looking for other meal tickets, while the men and women of the most important Families swept by with their noses in the air. Some of the snubbed guests, looked down upon by those whose support they needed, retreated to the corners to remain outside public view. Others glared back, daring the secret masters of high society to try to put them in their place, testing the real strength of their former patrons.

He shook his head finally. They were all crazy. Their world had turned upside down when his starships had battered through the defences of Earth and forced a surrender. Even if Tiberius’s plan worked and he was killed, they would only be delivering the Empire into Admiral Wilhelm’s hands, not recovering it for themselves. The handful of Family Members who were competent and capable of doing what needed to be done — Kathy and Tiberius, among others — would be buried by the others, just for telling them that they needed to cut back.

No wonder Mars is angry , he thought, as their escort finally managed to urge them on into the next room. It would have been… unseemly for the Thousand Families to grow their own food, or tend their own animals, regardless of the advantages of such a step. They could have fed an entire planet without ever having to see a farm, but that wasn’t good enough for them. They had, instead, turned Mars into the main supplier of food and drink for Earth, at astonishing expense. Prices, he’d heard, had more than tripled after the rebellion, but it wasn’t as if there were many other places to sell it. Most planets could grow their own food easily. To give the Empire its due, they had generally insured that most planets could feed themselves. Mars had a captive market, but it was one that cut both ways.

The next room was a monstrous swimming room, with two massive swimming pools, dozens of hot tubs and even a sauna field, holding enough steam inside to warm a hundred people. The swimming pools were full of bright young things, men and women showing off their perfect bodies — the result of cosmetic adjustment to fit the latest styles — in hopes of being noticed by those higher up, or someone who just wanted a fling. Only a handful of the women in the pool wore costumes, he noted with a flush of slight embarrassment; they swam naked as if they didn’t have a care in the world. The flower girl hurried them through the swimming room and directly into the next room, an internal garden with plants and flowers from all over the Empire.

Colin found himself becoming dazed as they walked through room after room. It was unbelievable wealth, completely wasted on nothing, but entertainment. There were so few people outside the Thousand Families — and even the merest of the Thousand Families was unimaginably wealthy — who could have afford such a display, even if they had wanted to make such an unnecessary display of wealth. It was like one of the illegal computer simulations he had played with as a child, one where the player had unlimited funds and could do whatever he pleased, pretending to be one of the charmed inner circle. The lifestyle of the Thousand Families was a matter of rumour, but rumour hadn’t even touched the true scale of their wealth, or how they used it.

The reporters are going to have a field day , he thought, as they passed into yet another room. He had lost track of how far they’d gone into the massive building, which might have been the point. They could have gone right into the building, or they might not even have left the entrance region, rather than seeing the inner heart of the Family. The reporters, once they told the Empire just what kind of luxury the Thousand Families enjoyed, would unleash a storm.

“This is the main reception room,” the flower girl said finally, with a curtsey. They found themselves at the top of a long series of stairs, leading down into a swarm of people, the real movers and shakers of the Empire. Colin spotted Gwendolyn Cicero and a handful of others holding court, while Jason Cordova, resplendent in his Admiral’s uniform, was lecturing a crowd of young boys on space combat tactics. Colin’s eyes flickered, almost involuntarily, to the sword on Cordova’s belt…