Christopher Nuttall - Barbarians at the Gates

“And with the Outsiders moving in, the Federation will be vulnerable,” Marius said. He couldn’t deny the Senator’s logic, yet…he didn’t want to be emperor. Perhaps he could hold the position for ten years, and then put it down. “I think…”

“Consider Earth,” McGillivray said, interrupting him. “Why is the population so high? Answer: the Senate feeds the population, allowing Earth to survive with a much greater population than any other planet. What can we do about this? Answer: we can put contraceptives in the state-supplied foods, cutting the birth rate. Why aren’t we doing this? Because the program is blocked in the Senate every time it is suggested.”

Marius had been listening patiently. Now he leaned forward.

“How do they benefit from keeping the birth rate high?”

“They can skim money off the programs to take care of the kids,” McGillivray explained.

He took a breath. “The Conservative Faction wants things to remain exactly as they are,” he said. “They won’t support change for that reason alone. The Socialists believe that they have a duty to help and support people—whether the people actually want it or not—and insist on providing free food and other social programs to the poor. Both factions will block any attempt to actually deal with the problem—and both factions are unwilling to admit that the problem is likely to explode, sooner rather than later.

“We need an emperor to cut through the Gordian knot before the entire Federation comes apart,” he concluded. “Whatever support we can give you—or I, as a Grand Senator, can give you—is yours. All you have to do is declare yourself emperor and take Earth. The Federation will give you a chance.”

“And what if my decision to declare myself emperor isn’t accepted?” Marius frowned.

“Then we’re no worse off than before,” McGillivray pointed out. “The political lassitude that allows the Senate to rule without challenge—to push through useless or actively harmful programs—will work in your favor. You will have a chance, admiral, and I believe that you will succeed.”

“If we win,” Marius pointed out. “We’re not going to challenge the Gateway, Senator, but we will have to face Home Fleet. Or has the Brotherhood subverted the fleet?”

“No,” McGillivray admitted. “We have some people with the fleet, but not enough to subvert it.”

Marius wasn’t surprised. If the Brotherhood had managed to subvert Home Fleet, they wouldn’t have needed Marius and the Grand Fleet. It wasn’t good news, however; Home Fleet didn’t have the experience of the Grand Fleet, but it possessed nearly as much firepower and, if combined with Earth’s orbital defenses, would be a very tough customer.

Marius nodded.

“I understand,” he said. He looked into the Senator’s eyes. “I have to consult with my wife and…advisors. The Marines will escort you to a cabin; I suggest you stay there, at least for the time. Feelings are running high at the moment.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Tiffany said, once Marius had outlined the gist of McGillivray’s explanation. “You’d make a good emperor.”

“I don’t want the job,” Marius protested. His dead arm felt heavy as he sat down on the sofa beside his wife. Doctor Yu had told him that his vat-grown arm wasn’t ready for grafting yet and he had no choice but to endure. “It’s a trap.”

“I think that not wanting the job is the first qualification for the job,” Tiffany countered. “And for that matter, I don’t want to be an empress, either. But what does that have to do with anything?” She turned to look up at him. “High Society would accept an emperor, even though they wouldn’t accept an admiral. It also neatly separates your rule from military rule, as an emperor wouldn’t be a direct military ruler. He’d be commander-in-chief, yet a civilian…”

Marius scowled. “Only for ten years,” he said firmly. “We take power, fix the problems on Earth and the Core Worlds, make sure that all worlds are represented in the Senate, and then we resign.”

“You’d have a hell of a time as an ex-Emperor,” Tiffany pointed out. “Where would you go?”

“I’d have the Survey Service reactivated,” Marius said. “I’d write myself a commission as my last official act and go beyond the Rim.”

“I hope it’s that easy,” Tiffany said. She smiled sadly.

Marius smiled back.

“We have to win the coming battle,” he reminded her. “Let’s not count our crowns until they’re on our heads, shall we?”

Grand Admiral Featherstone’s voice was very calm. Too calm.

“He’s on his way here.”

Grand Senator The Honorable Carlton Brockington prided himself on remaining calm and collected under pressure, even during Admiral Justinian’s attack on Earth. It was, he felt, the very essence of the Conservative Faction. If they refused to panic and considered everything carefully, they could decide how to act—or if they should act at all. Even so, he felt a tremor of panic run through his mind.

“Who’s on his way here?” Grand Senator Alison Wallisch asked Featherstone impatiently. He had been a bipartisan appointment, a man who had never commanded a starship, let alone an entire battle fleet; he’d been appointed because he didn’t have a single disloyal bone in his body. “Who?”

“Admiral Drake, My Lady,” Featherstone said. His hands nervously rubbed together as he spoke. “I received a transmission from the fortresses covering Gotham. Starships positively identified as belonging to the Grand Fleet transited into the system and boarded the fortresses. The last transmission stated that Marine boarding parties were securing the fortresses and that resistance was futile. Admiral Drake forced them to surrender without firing a shot.”

Calm , Carlton told himself. “They didn’t even try to engage him?”

“The Grand Fleet possesses enough firepower to punch through anywhere short of the Gateway,” Featherstone explained. “The fortress commander decided not to sacrifice his men in a futile attempt to delay him.”

“But…but this is disastrous,” Alison said. Her eyes were wide with panic. “What does he want ?”

“We tried to kill him,” Carlton reminded her dryly. “What do you think he wants?”

Featherstone looked blank. “I believe that he will be here within two weeks, perhaps less,” he said. “It depends on the course he takes to reach Earth and if he intends to try to punch through the Gateway. I think…”

“You have to stop him,” Alison snarled. Her voice was breaking in fear. “The entire Federation is at stake, admiral! We have to stop him!”

“We could try to negotiate,” Featherstone said seriously. “Or…”

“There’s no point in trying to talk to the bastard,” Alison hissed. “He’s going to kill us all unless we kill him first!”

Carlton tapped the table and Alison, wonder of wonders, fell silent.

“Admiral, can Home Fleet stop the Grand Fleet?”

Featherstone might not have been a military expert, but he knew the right answer.

“Absolutely, sir,” he said. “Combined with the defenses around the Gateway, there will be more than enough firepower to stop him dead in his tracks.”

“Excellent,” Carlton said. He looked over at Alison. “We can stop one last rebellious admiral, and then we will have won the war.”

“And what if he wins the battle?” Alison didn’t look convinced.

“We’ll have to try to bargain with him.” Carlton shrugged. “Admiral Drake is an honorable man. It should be possible to come to some…arrangement with him.”