Christopher Nuttall - Democracy's Light

I’m an idiot , he thought, without heat. Oddly, it almost felt good to be finally taking a step forward, even if it was an insanely risky one. One way or the other, the question of who run the Empire — and whose reform program would go into effect — would be settled at the wedding.

“President Colin Harper, Admiral of the Shadow Fleet, and Prime Minister and First Among Equals Blondel Dupre,” the master of ceremonies thundered, as they started to descend the steps. The crowd glanced up at them, took in their faces and uniforms, and pasted expressions of welcome on their faces. Colin, who had plenty of experience with people who were trying to convince him that they liked him, could see the truth. Only a handful of men and women in the room, mainly representatives from the smaller Families, were pleased to see him. The remainder hated him for shattering their world. “Give them due honour, as they deserve.”

Colin had half-expected to find themselves talking to no one, but Kathy Tyler, wearing a simple blue dress that looked stunning on her figure, brought them into a discussion with a pair of representatives from junior Families. Colin listened with half an ear at first — most Family representatives were unimpressive — but as they continued to talk, he found himself paying more attention. A plan to continue democratising their workforces and paying more wages, as well as chances for proper advancement, was certainly worth advancing.

Blondel added her own comments as the discussion became more detailed. The Empire’s normal tactic for striking workers had been to turn the SDs on them, but without the SDs the workers had started to take over entire industries, which started to damage the already-frail economy. The workers didn’t think that they had much to lose, but the truth was that altering the economy had to be done carefully, or all would suffer. The plan to improve conditions and to ensure that competence was rewarded with advancement was effectively giving the workers what they had already, but if it was used carefully, the workers might acquire the working habits of the first-rank worlds. They, at least, had not forgotten how to be competitive.

A dull rumble of drums brought them all to attention, facing the small dais in the centre of the room. Colin had wondered how they were going to fit all of the thousands of guests into the main room, but it appeared that most of them were not going to be watching the wedding directly, but would be viewing it from their positions. Tiberius entered from one side of the room, walking alone and wearing a simple black suit, looking neither left nor right as he reached the dais. For a man who had decided to use his wedding as a chance to commit murder, Colin decided, he was looking remarkably calm. He’d seen Admirals facing an easy victory who’d looked more concerned.

Lord Roosevelt took the stand and faced the audience. Colin had been surprised to encounter a new Lord Roosevelt — it had been unlikely that anyone would actually want the job — and had looked into his background, only to discover that he was barely related to Stacy Roosevelt. He had been fifth-tier, almost certain never to inherit the headship, until the poisoned chalice that the Roosevelt Family and Clan had become was passed to him.

Poor bastard , Colin thought, dryly. In Lord Roosevelt’s place, he would have given serious thought to changing his name and taking the next ship out to the Rim with as much loot as he could carry. The Roosevelt Clan had no future now. Its clients had deserted it even before the Fall of Earth, it’s industries had been taken by the rebels and used to fight the war. They had nothing left to keep them alive.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the wedding of two of our number,” Lord Roosevelt intoned, as if it were the merest Family Member who was getting married. Colin found himself wondering if Tiberius was insulted, or if he was too busy concentrating on remaining calm to care. “Lord Tiberius Cicero will welcome Alicia into his Family…”

He droned on for nearly ten minutes before finally halting and looking down towards the entrance. Colin followed his gaze to see four of the flower girls leading the way, followed by Alicia, wearing a white dress that shone like the sun. She was followed by two other bridesmaids, holding her train, both of whom looked nervous. Kathy had told him, back before the wedding, that being bridesmaids was a honour that was impossible to decline, but it involved long formal dances and routines that killed any of the enjoyment from the ceremony. She’d been a bridesmaid once and had hated it.

Alicia looked utterly spectacular in her dress, cut to show just a hint of cleavage, as she stepped up onto the dais. She was a tall willowy blonde, with her hair coming down in straight waves, and even without cosmetics she looked stunning. Tiberius was a lucky man, Colin decided, even if their wedding was probably doomed from the start. Kathy had also said that most family weddings barely lasted more than a decade, although a handful did remain strong until one of the partners died. If he hadn’t known that Cordova had been ordered to kill him in public, he might even have enjoyed himself.

“Do you, Alicia, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Lord Roosevelt demanded. Colin wondered, absently, how he must be feeling. His Clan was a becalmed hulk, taking fire from enemies as they gathered around, while Tiberius’s Clan still looked strong. “Do you choose to wed with him, to have his children, to bring honour and joy to his Family? Speak now, or forever hold your tongue.”

Colin rolled his eyes at the overdone nature of the ceremony. The wedding had, as he understood it, been formalised when the Imperial Register had given them its blessing. The entire ceremony wasn’t really needed for anything beyond showing off the Family’s wealth and, of course, introducing Alicia to the core of high society as the Cicero’s wife. It was, in some ways, a greater change in her status than anything that Colin himself had endured.

“I do,” she said, calmly. Her voice had been tuned perfectly for the gathering. It was firm, yet soft and warm. It echoed perfectly around the room. “I take him to my heart and soul.”

“Good,” Lord Roosevelt said. He leaned forward. If he saw any irony in his position, he didn’t show it. “You may join hands.”

Tiberius held out a hand. After a moment, Alicia took it. “I join thee now as man and wife,” Lord Roosevelt said, as he wrapped a silken cord around their wrists, symbolising their joining. It was a ritual that had endured for over a thousand years, used by most of the colony worlds. “You may now kiss the bride.”

They kissed. The room burst into cheers.

Colin felt his timepiece buzz. It was almost time. The crowd was moving forward now, advancing on the bride and groom to wish them the best of luck, but he could sense, now, that something wasn’t quite right. Something had changed in the room.

“No,” Cordova shouted, from behind him. Colin started, pushing Blondel away before she could react, as he turned to face the parting crowds. Cordova was moving forward incredibly fast, his sword already in his hand. It glinted madly in the light, Colin saw, feeling his mind reel. He wasn’t used to up close and personal combat. “You won’t…”

The sword flashed once, aimed at Colin’s chest…

And then all hell broke loose.

Cordova brought the sword down hard… and it shattered on the body armour Colin had woven into his uniform, as planned. The blow still hurt and he found himself staggering backwards, barely aware of the press of the crowd as everyone struggled to get away from the murder scene, or to get towards it to find out what was going on. He dropped to one knee, one hand scrabbling for the pistol he wore on his belt as panic spread everywhere.