Christopher Nuttall - Barbarians at the Gates

He pushed the thought aside and focused on his duty. Soon enough, time would tell.

Tiffany rose to her feet as Governor Hartkopf was shown into the briefing room. His team had been quietly dissuaded from coming any further, something that had been absurdly easy as it had been obvious that most of his team were enhanced bodyguards with implanted weapons and other augmentations. It seemed that the governor didn’t trust his subordinates to handle the negotiations, although Tiffany could hardly blame him for that. Treachery was an easy habit to grow into and a hard one to abandon.

Governor Hartkopf was immensely fat, a sign of a complete lack of concern about what anyone else thought of him, particularly when he could have used nanites to remove most of the fat. His face was chubby, with three chins and an expression that suggested he’d been swallowing laxatives and needed to go to the head desperately. The oily hair that hung over his forehead was cut in the formal style of the Edo Monarchy, a mocking reminder of his claims to supreme power. And he was known for corruption on a scale that would have daunted the Senate; his vast personal wealth, amassed without a shred of concern for legality, could have purchased a star system or two.

She took his hand and shook it, keeping her expression under control with the ease of long practice. The governor, she reminded herself, had no known military skill, but he was a skilled political operator. He’d certainly managed to parlay a temporary advantage into a small empire, even if it was about to come crashing down into the dust. It would be a terminal mistake to underestimate him.

“Governor,” she said, ignoring the way his eyes lingered on her. If half of the reports were true, the destruction of his government would be warmly welcomed by the populations under his control. “Thank you for coming.”

“It is always a pleasure to meet such a charming young lady,” Hartkopf said. Even his voice was oily. “I am…gratified that my concerns were recognized.”

Tiffany allowed herself a neutral smile. Hartkopf had insisted, not unreasonably, that a person from High Society speak for the Federation. He wouldn’t have accepted her husband, but his wife was a different matter…unless, of course, it was a trap.

Tiffany pushed that thought aside as hard as she could. The governor wouldn’t benefit from killing her, not in the long run, and her value as a hostage was limited. Her father had enough children not to worry about losing one.

“With your permission, governor, I will get right to the point,” Tiffany said. She settled back in her chair. “You committed treason against the Federation when you believed that the Federation didn’t have long to live. You have discovered that the Federation is more resilient than you realized and your empire, carved out of Federation space, may not have long to live. Furthermore, you are facing Admiral Justinian’s forces as well and he is unlikely to allow you to live. You did kill his daughter, after all.”

Governor Hartkopf’s face purpled.

“I did not kill his daughter. I wanted to make an alliance with Justinian!”

Oddly, Tiffany believed him. It was hard to see how he profited from a war on two fronts. Plus, she’d read the reports from Admiral Mason’s task force, and it had been impossible to overcome the suspicion that more had happened than anyone had committed to a datachip.

“Regardless, you are caught between two fires.” She settled her elbows on the table, striving for a nonchalance she did not feel. “I’m here to offer you a way out of your dilemma.”

“So I was led to understand,” Hartkopf agreed. “And what, precisely, does the Federation have to offer me? They’ve been executing people like me, in case you haven’t noticed.”

The fear in his eyes convinced her that her husband had been right. Hartkopf would happily switch sides again if he was given assurances of amnesty.

But even if he refused, it was likely that one of his subordinates would stick a knife in Hartkopf’s back if they were given the same sort of assurances. She knew that the Senate’s decree that had ordered their deaths was a mistake. It forced Hartkopf and others like him to fight to the last, in the desperate hope that they might pull something from the disaster.

“Here are our terms,” Tiffany said. She’d been given some room to negotiate, but not much. The Senate’s desire for revenge, pure and simple, had limited their options. “You will stand down your forces and surrender your planet. Your personal safety and that of your family, friends and chief subordinates will be guaranteed. You will no longer be governor of this sector”—she saw his face darken for a second and wondered if that would be a deal-breaker—”but you will be allowed to retire, unmolested, to one of the isolated pleasure worlds. Your subordinates who wish to join you will, of course, be allowed to do so.”

His sneer showed her just what he thought of his subordinates.

“You will have your life and your fortune, which will be included in the amnesty,” Tiffany concluded. “If you refuse our terms, there won’t be a second chance. We’ll come through the Asimov Point, destroy your defenses and take you by force. And, if we take you alive, you will suffer the full weight of the penalties for treason against the Federation.”

Hartkopf fixed her with an unwavering glare.

“I want to remain governor of this sector,” he countered. “That’s my price for ending the war.”

“Unacceptable,” Tiffany said flatly. “Understand this, governor: the Federation will not permit you to remain in a position of power and influence. We will offer you your life and your fortune. If you choose to refuse our offer, it won’t be repeated.”

His face showed none of his true feelings, but she knew he had to be struggling to make up his mind. If he accepted, the Federation could break the agreement and execute him once the sector was safely in loyalist hands. If he refused, perhaps he could stand off the Federation Navy…and yet, cold logic suggested otherwise. The Federation Navy outmassed his private fleet a thousand to one.

“I have come here to listen to serious offers,” Hartkopf said. “Instead, a mere slip of a girl offers me an insulting deal that will leave me a penniless pauper. I spit on your offer…”

“Think carefully,” Tiffany said sharply. “You can’t stand against the Federation Navy for long…”

“I will ally with Admiral Justinian and bring his fleet into the sector,” Hartkopf said as he stood up. “I suggest that unless you want this ship to be blown to atoms, you should let me return to my ship. Now.”

Tiffany didn’t move.

“Are you rejecting our offer?”

“Yes,” Hartkopf snarled. His voice darkened. “Do you think that I would give up all this just for a life as an internal exile?”

“Just remember, we offered,” Tiffany said sadly. “I trust you’ll understand if I don’t bother to wish you good luck?”

The governor didn’t bother to reply.

“He rejected the offer?” Roman asked incredulously. As soon as Hartkopf had returned to his ship, the space liner—a twin for the Harmonious Repose , an irony that wasn’t lost on Roman—had turned and headed back towards the planet. But he’d still had hopes that Hartkopf might listen. No one had opened fire, after all.

“I’m afraid so,” Lady Tiffany said. “I suggest that we get out of the system before he turns on us.”

Roman nodded, keying his console.

“Elf, launch the special package,” he ordered. The enemy ships were too far away to detect the launch, luckily. “Communications: did you record the meeting?”