Christopher Nuttall - Democracy's Might

“We certainly issued a death sentence for any rebels,” Lord Rothschild agreed. “Admiral Wachter definitely shouldn’t have made them any promises, certainly not ones that could rebound on us.”

“But the rebels will fight harder if they believe they cannot surrender,” Tiberius pointed out, tiredly. He agreed with the Admiral’s logic, even though he wished they’d discussed the possibility earlier. But then, the Thousand Families had been in no mood for compromise even before the victory at Morrison. Admiral Wachter might have left with orders to butcher all prisoners upon capture. “And we will also abandon any hope of using them for propaganda purposes.”

“This is a sign of disturbing independence on the Admiral’s part,” Lord Bernadotte added. “Do we wish to leave him in his position?”

“He just won our one true victory,” Tiberius snapped. “The war is not yet won and you’re already plotting to remove him?”

“And what,” Lord Bernadotte asked in tones of sweet reason, “if he turns on us?”

“We cannot afford to get rid of him now,” Tiberius insisted. “The rebel fleet was damaged, but it escaped largely intact. They will recover and they will resume the offensive. And when that happens, we had damn well better be prepared to meet it!”

Lord Bernadotte gave him a sharp look. “First arguing for peace talks, then defending the prisoners… are you convinced that we will lose this war?”

“We could win and find ourselves bankrupted,” Tiberius reminded him. “I don’t think I wish to win on those terms. And besides…”

He hesitated, then appealed to their sense of self-preservation. “Let us assume that we lose the war,” he said. “What will the rebels do to us if we torture prisoners?”

“There’s a difference between interrogation and torture,” Lord Edison injected.

“Yes,” Tiberius agreed. “They’re spelt differently.”

He pressed on before anyone could interrupt. “When the war is won,” he insisted, “we can do whatever the hell we like. We can execute all the rebels or send them to godforsaken penal colonies. But until then, we have some interest in treating prisoners gently.”

Lord Edison snorted. “Even traitors to the Empire?”

“Even them,” Tiberius said. Director Smyth’s memo had been interesting, if only because of the logical hair-splitting. One could evade the Admiral’s instructions by arguing that traitors were already sentenced to death, even though they’d surrendered upon a promise of good treatment. “It is in our interests to treat prisoners gently.”

“Very well,” Lord Bernadotte said. He glanced around the table. “All those in favour?”

Tiberius held his breath… then sighed in relief as nine Family Heads sided with him.

“The Admiral may still be a problem,” Lord Rothschild said. “I propose that we dispatch additional security forces to Morrison. If he decides to turn on us, we can have him eliminated before he becomes a very real problem.”

There was no disagreement.

Tiberius wasn’t really surprised. Powerful subordinates — over-mighty subordinates — were a persistent problem for the Empire. Someone competent enough to be useful was also someone competent enough to be a very real threat. The entire Imperial Navy edifice was designed to ensure that anyone who did reach high office was either lacking in ambition or thoroughly subverted to a patron. Admiral Wachter might have come from minor aristocracy, but that wouldn’t reassure them. The Empress had been minor aristocracy too.

“And we should also have all POWs sent here,” Lord Bernadotte added. “For safe-keeping, of course.”

“Of course,” Tiberius agreed, dryly. Just because interrogation was forbidden wouldn’t stop Public Information trying to use them. If one of the mutineers switched sides again…

Not that they would have to switch sides , he thought. Public Information could make up a story out of whole cloth .

They’d already started, naturally. A hugely-exaggerated version of the Battle of Morrison was already playing on the datanets, ending with the complete destruction of the rebel fleet and all of its crewmen. They’d have to explain the discrepancy somehow… or lie. Why not? They’d lied for hundreds of years when the truth had been deemed too dangerous to tell the public. Even the underground’s best attempts at spreading the truth could be buried under Public Information’s shower of lies.

If anyone believes it , he thought, I would be very surprised .

But quite a few Admirals would have taken the opportunity to exaggerate their own success… They were lucky to have Wachter, even though he was very much a two-edged sword. He could cut the Thousand Families as easily as fight for them.

He shook his head as the meeting finally came to an end, then disengaged from the conference and walked back into his office. The latest reports from the financial analysts were on his desk, but he ignored them. Instead, he called for Marie. He needed to relax, he explained it to himself, before he did anything else. Life at the top was just too stressful.

“Do you believe the stories?”

Adeeba considered the question carefully. Public Information’s claim of a decisive victory at Morrison were wildly exaggerated, she suspected, but there was probably some truth in it somewhere. By her calculations, Colin might well have reached Morrison by the time of the battle. But the rumours of a successful strike on Wolf 359 were utterly unconfirmed.

Or at least they hadn’t been confirmed directly. But when the underground had checked the stock exchanges, half of the property that openly belonged to the Sandakan Family had been confiscated or frozen until debts were paid. The family had definitely taken a major hit and their only installation of note was Wolf 359. Adeeba wasn’t sure how many of the rumours were actually true, but there was definitely some truth there too.

“I think the stories are reasonably believable,” she said, finally. “But we couldn’t have lost over two hundred superdreadnaughts in a single battle.”

Gaunt snorted. “How do you figure that?”

“There are barely three hundred superdreadnaughts in the entire Empire,” Adeeba said. “The Empire couldn’t assemble such a force, not now. There hasn’t been a fleet that large since the First Interstellar War.”

Frandsen coughed. “Interesting,” he said, with a wink. “But if there have been attacks this close to Earth, what do we do about them?”

Adeeba considered it. “Wait until we know more?”

Gaunt gave her a sharp look. “You don’t want to take the offensive?”

“We have no way of knowing just how badly our fleet was damaged at Morrison,” Adeeba said. “Sure, we can’t have lost ships we don’t have, but we don’t know the real story. All we can do is prepare… or risk losing everything if we strike too soon.”

“I wish I disagreed with you,” Gaunt said. She looked around the tiny apartment. “Are you all right, here?”

Adeeba shrugged. There was barely enough room to swing a cat, but the neighbours were quiet — Earth’s inhabitants tended to ignore their fellows, unless they looked particularly weak — and there would be plenty of warning if the security forces caught on. Besides, it let her think about their planned operations in peace.

“It could be better,” Frandsen said.

“Worse too,” Gaunt commented. “It is actually larger than a holding cell.”

She gave him a thin-lipped smirk, then continued. “We may need you to help us train for operations in orbit,” she added. “Can we count on you?”

“Of course,” Frandsen said. “What do you have in mind?”