Christopher Nuttall - Democracy's Might

He was so wrapped in his thoughts that he almost didn’t hear Sharon calling him until she repeated herself, telling him that Gwendolyn was waiting to see him. Tiberius sighed, then invited Gwendolyn to enter the room. This time, she was wearing a long white gown that set her blonde hair off nicely, hinting at her attributes rather than revealing them. Tiberius wondered, absently, who she was planning to seduce… or if she was simply trying to look the part of an Ambassador. After all, she would have to impress the rebels…

“I reviewed the files,” Gwendolyn said, taking a seat without being invited. “The rebels will want quite a bit from us, won’t they?”

Tiberius scowled. Ideally, he would like to see everything return to the status quo, but he knew better than to expect it. Even if they beat this rebellion, the example the rebels had set would inspire others. There were still reports of mutinies coming in from the other side of the Empire.

“I imagine they will,” he said. “But it depends on the military situation.”

The Thousand Families had started life as corporate power blocs, back in the days of the First Emperor and the Great Interstellar War. They’d built the massive industrial machine that had propelled humanity to victory and they had had no intention of forgoing the rewards of their efforts. The First Emperor had merely been the one to step forward and try to seize supreme power for himself. His former comrades had turned on him, fearing the consequences of concentrating so much power in one man’s hands. But, a thousand years later, power was concentrated in a handful of hands. It wasn’t much of an improvement, Tiberius realised.

“If we are in a position where we can offer the rebels our services, we will give up political power in exchange for retaining our economic power,” he said. It would be a tricky balancing act. They would have to switch sides when they still had something to offer the rebels, but after the other families had lost the ability to lash out and punish the deserters. “If not, we will seek to gain control of their tech advances in exchange for light treatment.”

Gwendolyn gave him a sugary-sweet smile. “And what would the other families make of your planning?”

Tiberius smiled back. “You intend to betray your family?”

His smile grew wider at her expression. She could reveal some of his contingency plans to the other Family Heads, but no one would ever trust her again. The family came first, always. It was hammered into their heads as soon as they grew old enough to learn. And if Gwendolyn betrayed the family openly, she would be lucky to survive long enough to regret it.

“I merely point out the possibility of a leak,” Gwendolyn said, stiffly.

“I merely point out that you are the only person who knows the plan,” Tiberius said, mockingly. There was no point in trying to be polite with someone who would merely see it as a sign of weakness. “You will not share it with anyone, even Pompey. You will keep it in mind until the time comes to use it.”

He leaned backwards, studying her. “When are you leaving?”

“Tonight,” Gwendolyn said. “We’re not going to be taking a known ship — or a crew. Pompey has already secured a yacht that can be handled by one person. He thinks we shouldn’t have any problems reaching Camelot — or Jackson’s Folly.”

Tiberius concealed his amusement. Two people, alone on a ship for six months… it sounded like a bad soap opera. By the time they reached their destination, Gwendolyn and Pompey would either be firm friends or sworn enemies. He briefly considered the relationship potential, then dismissed the thought. They might not have been closely related enough for it to count as incest, and thus forbidden, but they weren’t exactly compatible.

“I shall place you in his capable hands,” he said. “Of course, if you do get caught by the other families, I shall deny all knowledge of you.”

Gwendolyn snorted, rudely.

“Thank you,” she said, standing up. “We will do our best.”

Tiberius didn’t doubt it. Success in such a delicate mission would ensure that Gwendolyn’s status within the family rose rapidly. Failure would go unacknowledged; hell, the entire mission would be wiped from the files so completely that human memory would be all that remained. Gwendolyn might just succeed in escaping blame completely.

He stood and held out a hand. After a moment, she shook it firmly, then turned and walked out the door. Tiberius watched her go, then smiled as Marie stepped inside, carrying a towel under one arm. Even in the High City, where beauty was common, she was extraordinary. Long dark hair framed a muscular body and breasts that were just the right size. But she was the most talented massage therapist in the High City, as far as Tiberius could tell. He’d bought out her contract the day after discovering just how much tension he felt after his first full meeting of the Family Council.

“Please, lie down,” Marie said, with a bow. The loose dress she wore fell open slightly, revealing her breasts. “I will make you feel better.”

Tiberius snorted. It wasn’t as if she could take his problems away. But he’d done all he could and now he would have to wait. And pray. Perhaps she could help him forget, just for a while.

He stood up, removed his tunic, then lay down on the sofa. There was a whispering sound as Marie removed her dress, then bent down and started to work on his back. Sighing, Tiberius gave himself up to her ministrations. It would keep him distracted long enough to make him relax.

Commodore Jeremy Damiani sat on Shadow’s command bridge and watched as her crew scurried to battlestations. The battlecruiser had seen more than her fair share of action since the original mutiny — Colin himself had commanded her, before shifting his flag to the superdreadnaught — but half of her crew was new. Jeremy had been running endless drills ever since the squadron had departed Camelot, yet the only true test would come when they encountered the enemy for the first time.

He leaned back in his chair, trying to project an air of unconcern. The shortage of crewmen was particularly acute when it came to senior officers, most of whom had either thrown their lot in with the rebels or insisted on being transferred to a holding colony. Jeremy was not only the commander of the entire squadron, he was the battlecruiser’s commander too. His XO had been a Lieutenant before the mutiny and didn’t have the experience to handle the post, let alone overall command. But there was no alternative.

“All systems report ready, Captain,” the XO said. He looked absurdly young — and he was absurdly young — but his voice was steady. “ Shadow is fully at your command.”

Jeremy nodded, never taking his eyes off the datanet. The entire squadron had gone to battlestations, linking their ships into a single entity. They were ready for anything, he hoped, although the preliminary survey of the system ahead of them had concluded that there was nothing more dangerous than a handful of destroyers and automated weapons platforms in orbit. Jeremy rather hoped that was true. An easy victory would do wonders for morale, particularly after the last bruising exercise. It had been carefully designed to give the enemy every possible advantage.

“Power up the flicker drive,” he ordered, pushing his thoughts aside. “Jump on my mark.”

A dull whine echoed through the battlecruiser as the flicker drive powered up. Jeremy tensed, remembering all the combat jumps they’d carried out since the mutiny had begun. He might not have been there for the start, but he’d joined as soon as he’d been offered an opportunity. After spending months serving Stacy Roosevelt, even the prospect of being shot for mutiny no longer seemed terrifying.