Christopher Nuttall - Democracy's Might

Now , Colin silently asked the enemy CO, did you take a calculated risk or did you merely get lucky .

“Launch drones,” he ordered. “Is there anything from the surface?”

“Nothing,” the communications officer said. “Wait… picking up a message using our codes. The underground needs help.”

Colin nodded. “Increase speed,” he ordered. There was no time to be subtle. “Take us right down their throats.”

He pushed himself back into his chair. One way or the other, he told himself, it would all be over soon.

Tiberius linked into the planetary communications network, then requested a channel to the rebel ships. It took longer than usual to open the link, reminding him that the rebels didn’t answer to the Thousand Families any longer. Normally, if he wanted to talk to anyone at any time, they would be present within minutes. But the rebels could make him wait just for the sheer hell of it.

“This is Admiral Walker,” a voice said, finally. The voiceprint matched, according to the analysis, although he knew it was easy to fool them. “What can I do for you?”

“We would like to discuss a truce,” Tiberius said, carefully. Had they waited too long? The rebels were threatening both Home Fleet and the High City itself, as well as hundreds of positions in orbit and on the ground. “It is time to end this war.”

There was a long pause. “Shut down Home Fleet and the orbital defences, completely ,” Admiral Walker ordered. “Then tell your forces on the ground to pull back, leaving the underground alone. And then we can talk.”

Tiberius considered it for a long moment. If Home Fleet shut down, the rebels would have an easy set of targets if they intended treachery. But Tiberius had no illusions about how the battle would go. And, once the rebels won, there would be less incentive for them to seek peace on any terms.

“Very well,” he said. “I will issue the orders.”

“And then you can board my starship,” Admiral Walker added. “We will discuss the peace terms in person.”

“Understood,” Tiberius said.

The rebels held their positions as he boarded his private shuttle and launched himself into space. He’d travelled in space before, yet he’d never felt so exposed as the shuttle swept away from the planetary defence network and headed towards the rebel fleet. The blunt-nosed superdreadnaughts looked terrifying on the display, their weapons tracking him and his craft with effortless ease. If they had lured him out merely to execute him…

He pushed the thought aside, desperately. He had to assume the rebels were sincere. Because, if they weren’t, the Thousand Families were doomed.

Colin could see the resemblance between Tiberius and Pompey Cicero as the young man — he seemed surprisingly young to be a Family Head — stepped out of the shuttle. Colin watched through the display as the Marines met him, searched him with brisk efficiency and marched him through a series of airlocks and into a small conference room. Shaking his head, Colin left the display and walked through the airlock himself.

“Welcome,” he said, dryly. “I assume your messengers gave you our terms?”

Tiberius nodded. He had less practice than Colin at concealing his feelings, Colin noted, probably because he was still very young. On the other hand, his youth had led him to consider matters that the other Family Heads had found impossible to imagine. Colin hadn’t been surprised to learn that it had been Tiberius who had proposed Admiral Wachter as Morrison CO. And it had definitely worked out for him.

“We still have cards to play,” Tiberius said. “Let me be blunt, if you don’t mind.”

Colin smiled, then nodded.

“We control most of the Empire’s economic base,” Tiberius said. “If you destroy us, we’ll destroy the economy for good. It will take you years to rebuild, years you might not have.”

“True enough,” Colin conceded. “On the other hand, you must understand that you will not be allowed to retain power.”

“We will surrender our political power,” Tiberius said. “In exchange, we will maintain control over our industries. We will… adapt to a universe of competition, where we no longer divide the pie up between us and exclude everyone else. In time, those of us who deserve to survive will survive.”

Colin lifted an eyebrow. “Are you confident of survival?”

“We have no other choice,” Tiberius said, simply.

He was right, Colin knew, but there was a great deal he wasn’t saying. Even with the legal barriers to competition removed, the Thousand Families would still be in a strong position; they’d already own much of the industry their competitors would have to duplicate. Did they believe that Colin wouldn’t notice ? Or did they think that situation would endure indefinitely? There were already plans to expand the industrial base that belonged to the Roosevelt Family in Sector 117. Given time, there would be competition on equal terms.

It was tempting, he knew. Tiberius was right; the Thousand Families could shatter the Empire, even if in doing so they ensured their own destruction. But equal competition would either force them to reform or destroy them, soon enough. And yet…

There would be rebels who would see it as a betrayal. How could they not ? Their planets had been ravaged, their lives had been ruined, just to feed a monster that had eventually run out of people to eat. They wanted revenge, they wanted the Thousand Families to suffer and burn… they wouldn’t like the thought of letting the guilty go free.

But if they did try to destroy the Thousand Families, the remainder of the Empire’s economy would collapse. Billions would starve, entire planetary economies would collapse in quick succession, law and order would vanish into nothingness, riots would rapidly turn into mass slaughters, ethnic conflict would be reborn… a new interstellar dark age would be on the cards. It could not be allowed.

Colin took a long breath. He understood warfare, understood how to fight in space. But the Thousand Families understood political and economic warfare far better than any of the rebels. What if there was a sting in the tail? What if they’d already sown the seeds for their recovery? Colin would guard against it, as best as possible, but he knew he might miss something. What if he failed to keep the Families under control?

“There are conditions,” he said, finally. “You will not be permitted military forces of any description, nor will you be permitted political or economic intelligence agencies. We will keep a close eye on you and we will intervene if you do something we don’t like. And we will expect you to help us uncover the full nature of your crimes. Those… individuals who are guilty of real crimes will be punished.”

Tiberius lifted his eyebrows, innocently. “And does that include events like the destruction of Dartmoor Station?”

Colin winced. Dartmoor had been a large orbital colony, owned and operated by the Edison Family as a retirement home for the family’s elders and some of their embarrassments. Five years before Colin had run afoul of Admiral Percival, a terrorist group had smuggled a nuke onto the station and blown it into debris, killing over five thousand people. From what Colin had heard, they’d claimed to be composed of people who’d lost all settlement rights to their homeworld because of financial manipulation. It hadn’t stopped the Empire launching a crackdown on terrorist groups that had sent hundreds of thousands fleeing to the Rim.

“You won’t be able to manipulate the laws any longer,” Colin said. “There will be changes.”