Christopher Nuttall - Democracy's Right

Colin smiled. The Geeks had designed several other tricks, each one either a development of Imperial Navy technology or something radically new. By the time they were deployed, the Imperial Navy would be gearing up for a conventional war, not something new. He’d come a long way from the officer who had sworn a petulant oath to avenge himself on his superior; whatever happened to the rebellion and the Popular Front, the Empire would never be the same.

And then there was Khursheda and Colonel Frandsen, off on their own mission. It was a long shot, but if it worked it would do the impossible and shorten the war.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Daria said. Colin turned and smiled in welcome. He hadn’t seen much of Daria for the past week; she’d been busy organising the hundreds of commercial starships that had come over to the rebellion. The fleet would have better logistics than the Imperial Navy, at least at first. Once the fleet started advancing towards Earth, they would be on the end of long supply lines, while the Imperial Navy would be falling back towards its bases. “Gloating over your victory?”

“Something like that,” Colin admitted, with a shrug. There was no sign of Mariko, which was odd; she was normally attached to Daria at the hip, her silent shadow. “Percival won’t be abusing anyone, ever again.”

“No,” Daria agreed. They’d found Percival’s private collection of videos once they’d searched his quarters, including hours of footage of his aide. Colin had watched some of them and then ordered them all destroyed. Wherever Penny Quick was — and whoever had taken her off the fortress had covered his tracks very well — he hoped that she was thinking about rebelling herself. “You could have killed him.”

Colin nodded. “I thought about it,” he said. “I just” — it was hard to put it into words, even for a friend — “I just thought that if I pulled the trigger, with him helpless, part of me would die with him.”

“So you sent him to a planet that’s known for killing seventy percent of the people who are dumped on it,” Daria said, dryly. “You could have shot him and it would have been kinder.”

“At least he has a chance,” Colin said. The thought made him smile. “And besides, I wanted to make him suffer.”

Daria came up beside him and stood by his side, staring out into space. “I think you succeeded,” she said. “And now the war goes on anyway.”

“Soon,” Colin agreed. Everyone was working at a backbreaking pace, but it would be weeks yet before the fleet was ready to advance. Sector 99 would be ripe for the plucking with its sector fleet destroyed or captured, but after that it would get progressively harder. “Earth is only six months away.”

Daria laughed and took his arm. “Relax,” she said, seriously. “You don’t want to burn yourself out just yet.”

She leaned forward and Colin found himself leaning towards her, his lips moving to meet hers, when his wristcom beeped. He found himself laughing as the moment was broken, before tapping the wristcom and listening to the message.

“That had better be important,” Daria said, shaking her head. “What did they say?”

Colin grinned at her. “We just had a heavy cruiser squadron drop in,” he said. “They’re from Sector 97 and they say they want to join us.” He laughed and pulled her in for a delighted hug. “Don’t you see? The message is out and spreading. Nothing can stop us now.”

To an outsider, the Empire seems to make very little sense. The system makes insane decisions — such as putting a known incompetent in command of starships or even entire fleets — and it doesn’t seem to function very well, if at all. This problem is caused, in effect, by the fact that the Empire possesses no Rule of Law. The Empire may possess a Parliament and even an Independent Judiciary, but both institutions are effectively toothless. There is very little input from the Empire’s population into how the Empire is run. This leads to massive abuses and, because there is no other guarantee of safety, the effective installation of a patronage system. Perversely, the system is both unofficial and the only thing that keeps the Empire together in the absence of a single unifying force.

The core idea of the system is relatively simple. The Patron — who is often rich or politically powerful — extends his patronage over the Client. This can be a brief association, not unlike a loan shark, or it can be a lifelong relationship. The Patron generally provides a degree of financial assistance, political support and even protection. The more powerful the Patron, the more he can offer his Client. In exchange, the Client places himself under the Patron and pledges to support the Patron in any way possible. The system is often unstable as some Clients may be more dependent on their Patrons than others.

This can take on many different forms, too many to detail here. A Patron might put a Client into the command chair of a starship, knowing that that would give the Patron effective control over the starship, therefore providing a military resource that could be called upon in times of need. The Client would also look after anyone else the Patron designated. For example, if there was a young officer with family links to the Patron, the Client would be expected to assist the young officer to rise higher. Or, alternatively, a Patron might put a Client into a high position within the Imperial Civil Service. The Client would be expected to use his position to further the aims of the Patron.

It doesn’t require much imagination to understand that his system is easy to abuse. Patrons have been known to demand sexual services from their Clients in exchange for patronage. Worse, Patrons with more breeding than intelligence have been known to parasite off less well-connected officers and use their skills and abilities to boost their own position.

Generally, Clients come from either inside the Thousand Families (and a handful of upper-class citizens who are not technically part of the aristocracy, but wealthy and powerful in their own right) or outside the system. Clients from the inside can actually help their Patron in many ways beyond the obvious. A person who is, officially, a mere Lieutenant may have highly-placed relations who can help his Patron. A Client from the outside, however, with few connections to the higher ranks, represents a long-term investment for the Patron. They are rarely able to help the Patron immediately and, therefore, can often be dismissed and stripped of patronage with no repercussions. (An insider Client’s family may feel inclined to take revenge for any humiliation they feel their relative has suffered.)

Within the Empire, the only ways to build a position — and therefore safety, security and advancement — is to either form a patronage network or to become part of a larger patronage network. As it is highly unlikely that a newcomer could build a patronage network capable of surviving — by advancing the careers and ensuring the safety of its Clients — the Imperial system tends to be self-perpetuating. Part of the reason for this is that a person who exists outside the patronage network would have absolutely no defence if they were to be challenged by it. A known criminal with sufficiently powerful connections could be allowed to remain at liberty, while an innocent (yet unconnected) person could be targeted by the Empire’s various law enforcement agencies and discover that they have little recourse. They have been effectively disenfranchised.

What this means, for the Empire as a whole, is that the most powerful people within the Empire are those who control the most powerful patronage networks. They have unmatched power to reward their followers and punish their enemies, allowing them to continue to build their networks. (The more power a person gathers, the more their power tends to grow.) Limited alliances between patronage networks create even stronger centres of power, which tend to warp the structure of the Empire as other Patrons start to respond to the new centre of gravity.