Democracy's Might

Chapter Nineteen

“We are facing a planned sabotage campaign,” Colonel Gordon said. He was a Rothschild client, but he had enough sense to realise that now wasn’t the time to promote his patron’s interests. “All signs point to a large group — and probably one linked to the underground.”

Tiberius carefully kept his expression under control. He’d concluded that weeks ago, after his security officers had finally tracked down the person responsible for the chaos virus and interrogated her thoroughly. It was unlikely in the extreme that rebels from the edge of the Empire could have set up operations on Luna so quickly unless they’d had help from the Luna Underground. They’d managed to kidnap children just to force someone into helping them, for crying out loud! They could only have done that with help.

But the chaos attack hadn’t been the only burst of sabotage. Several other computer cores had been infected with chaos viruses, a number of processors had been reprogrammed to pass imperfect starship components while rejecting perfectly good ones and two Blackshirt training camps had been sent poison instead of conditioning drugs. Thousands of young men were now dead, setting the entire program back weeks if not months. No, the underground was getting bolder — and pushing the limits as far as they would go. He wouldn’t be surprised to discover that they already had operatives on dozens of starships and orbital platforms.

“So we act,” Lord Bernadotte snapped. “Send down the Blackshirts and flush the damn bastards out. God knows we cannot allow this to continue.”

Tiberius had to admit he was right. Home Fleet was in a poor condition, even without active sabotage. If there were more life support failures, crewmen would start deserting in droves –or contemplating mutiny. The life expectancy of a starship that mutinied in Earth orbit would be very low, but it would be able to do considerable damage to the planet before it was destroyed. Who knew what would happen if someone sabotaged other parts of the defences?

“The underground is very good at hiding,” Lord Rothschild countered. “The effort might be futile.”

“Then have the crews switched around,” Tiberius snapped. “While we’re at it, we might want to provide additional security for our employees. They can be threatened into working for the underground even if they’re not inclined to turn on us.”

He’d forced himself to watch Marian Fairchild’s entire interrogation, from beginning to end, even though he’d thrown up twice. Imperial Intelligence had not been gentle; they’d beaten her, inserted torture implants into her skull and even threatened her children in front of her eyes. But, in the end, they’d discovered that the children had been kidnapped… and that the kidnappers were long gone. By the time the security forces had started to sweep the Luna warrens, it was too late even to identify them. He’d signed the execution order knowing that Marian had been forced to serve the underground. But there had been no choice. An example had to be made.

It had taken weeks to flush out the chaos virus — or, for that matter, the virus that had somehow made its way into Public Information’s computers. Before anyone knew what had happened, an underground-produced report had been uploaded into the datanet and distributed to everyone in the Sol System. The code had ensured that billions of people had seen the report before it had been wiped from the system. And the report claimed that the Thousand Families were on the brink of losing control of the Empire.

The only upside is that we weren’t the only ones hit, he thought. The Cicero Family wouldn’t be blamed for being careless if all of the families had been targeted. But we’re no closer to actually winning the war.

He glanced down at the latest report from Morrison as Lord Bernadotte and Lord Rothschild resumed their argument, the other Family Heads lining up on one side or the other. Admiral Wachter was still making enemies, but thankfully the sabotage campaign had distracted the Families Council from considering the matter. The Admiral was optimistic about their chances when the rebels finally attacked; Tiberius could only hope he was right.

The argument seemed to be winding down, so he took a chance and jumped in. “We need to finally appoint someone to command Home Fleet,” he said. “I believe that Lord Rothschild has a proposal.”

Lord Rothschild tossed him an inscrutable look, then nodded. “Admiral Foster would appear to be our best bet,” he said. “He has ties to the Thousand Families, but never showed interest in anything more than squadron command up until his retirement. While Home Fleet is larger than anything he has commanded prior to retirement, I believe he would meet all three of our requirements.”

Tiberius concealed his amusement. It said a great deal about the Empire that only one of the requirements involved actually defeating the rebels. The Families Council was more worried about not upsetting the balance of power and not accidentally creating a second Empress, someone who used Home Fleet to take control of the Empire. But then, Admiral Foster would not command Earth’s fixed or orbital defences. If he did turn on the Empire, he couldn’t win before the spies on his ship killed him. Or so they hoped.

There was another long debate, but no one seemed to want to prolong the argument long enough to make it go away. Instead, Admiral Foster was formally recalled from retirement and assigned to command Home Fleet. Tiberius hoped — prayed — that they’d finally broken the logjam in time to prepare Home Fleet for battle, then tried to tune out as much of the ensuring debate as possible. His father had once told him that the Families Council was only allowed to make one resolution per day. Tiberius knew that wasn’t actually true, but it might as well have been.

Afterwards, he disconnected from the network and walked back into his office. Sharon was waiting for him, along with two officers from the personnel department. Tiberius took his chair, then turned to face them. They promptly bowed deeply, then relaxed.

“I don’t have much time,” Tiberius said. It was a lie, but lower-ranking officers — particularly ones with only weak family ties — were prone to going on and on, trying to exaggerate their own importance. “Have you completed the moves?”

“Yes, sir,” the senior officer said. “Everyone with a family has had the family moved to a secure complex, guarded by Household Troops. The facilities are being improved even as we speak, but the costs…”

“Fuck the costs,” Tiberius snapped. One chaos virus attack, launched by someone whose children had been at risk, had cost trillions of credits and a number of lives. If they’d missed one fragment of the virus, just one, it might reform and start infecting computer cores again. “I want everyone to know that their families are safe!”

“Yes, sir,” the senior officer said.

Tiberius understood his surprise. The Thousand Families had never been good at caring for their workers, apart from the handful who showed enough promise to be brought into the Families — and that had grown rarer and rarer as the Thousand Families solidified their grip on power. But now the underground was using that weakness against them. A person who might have been so completely loyal that they’d passed countless security checks could be turned in an instant, if their families were harmed. It was worth some expense to ensure that the families were protected.

But the logistics were staggering. There were millions of employees on Earth. Protecting all of their families was a difficult task…

“It will be handled,” Sharon assured him.

Tiberius nodded. “One other matter,” he added. “You will ensure that the Fairchild children are sent to a good home. They don’t need to be overshadowed by the past.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Sharon said. She didn’t seem surprised by his decision. “Should they be assigned to a colony world?”

“Somewhere reasonably decent,” Tiberius ordered. He looked up at the two personnel officers. “I want your full reports by the end of the week.”

They left, no doubt glad to be away from Tiberius. Sharon remained, looking down at him with an odd expression on her face. After a moment, Tiberius quirked an eyebrow. She looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded in understanding.

“You’re being kind to the children,” she said. “That’s better than your peers would have done.”

“I know,” Tiberius said. His peers — the Family Heads — were older than him by several decades, at the very least. They wouldn’t care about the children, even if they understood that the children had been innocent victims. Their mother had to die — Tiberius couldn’t have changed that — but they didn’t have to join her. Or be sentenced to a penal colony. “Make sure they have something to rely on, if they go to a colony world. Maybe one of the ones founded by lesser family.”

Once, thousands of colonies had been settled by eccentrics from Earth. Rogue groups, religious factions, people who merely wanted to get away… but that had come to an end when the Empire had started tightening the screws. Now, the only people who founded colonies were the Thousand Families, most of them designed to start paying off as soon as possible. But a handful were designed to stand on their own. It wasn’t something Tiberius had ever approved of, but he could see the value. And besides, those worlds weren’t involved in the war.

It struck him, suddenly, that he had never met the children, that he had only seen their images when they were being threatened by the interrogators. And yet he still felt guilty for what he’d had done to them — and what would have been done to them, if their mother hadn’t talked. Sending them to a decent colony was the very least he could do.

“There’s a world founded by an idiot who fancies himself an artist,” he said, slowly. There were times when he envied that man, even though the decision to leave the High City seemed foolish. The artist had no responsibilities beyond his art. “Maybe they’d like to go there.”

He looked down at his hands. They were clean, perfectly manicured… and yet he knew they were covered with blood. Decisions made casually in the Families Council resulted in very real hardship for the people under his authority. He’d made those decisions without every worrying about the people, until now. But was he considering them now because he’d seen one of them tortured until she’d been stripped mentally naked — or because some of the victims had risen up against the Empire?

The Empire was necessary. He knew that for a fact. But was the suffering also necessary?

He looked up at Sharon. “Did I do the right thing?”

Sharon lifted her eyebrows. She was loyal — she had no choice, but to be loyal — but it was rare for Tiberius to ask her advice. And yet, who else could he ask? Admiral Wachter was at Morrison, a month away even in the fastest courier boat, while the other senior family members would always keep their eye on the prize. They’d want to see him weaken himself by asking for advice, or even reassurance. It was lonely up at the top.

“I think it doesn’t matter what happens to the children,” Sharon said, finally. “You could do far worse to them, innocent or not.”

She was right, Tiberius knew. The whole idea of law and justice was a joke when the Thousand Families were involved. No one would have said anything if he’d had the children killed, or thrown down to Earth to fend for themselves, or even thrown into the brothels despite their young age. There was no law for the Thousand Families, no matter what they did; there were no pleasures, no matter how perverse, denied to them. In the end, he realised, he was looking at the ultimate end result of untrammelled power. There was nothing that members of his family could not do.

There was no point in punishing the children. It wasn’t as if they could gain anything by punishing the children. But too many aristocrats would have done it anyway, because they could. Because no one would have told them no.

“Yeah,” he said, finally. “I know.”

Sharon leaned forward. “Is that really what you want to know?”

Tiberius hesitated, then lifted his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I think you were asking me about more than just the children,” Sharon said. “You were asking about the Empire as a whole. Is it right to keep such tight control over countless planets and settlements and uncounted trillions of people?”

“Good question,” Tiberius agreed. “And how can you even ask that question?”

Sharon snorted. “I cannot actively act against your interests, nor can I let something happen against your interests without trying to stop it,” she said. “The Mind Techs ensured that I would be loyal and obedient — and I’ve accepted that as perfectly normal, even though rationally I should be outraged. But that doesn’t stop me considering such questions, or bringing them to your attention should you ask. Because… I have to know what your interests actually are, before I act in them.”

Tiberius felt his eyes narrow. “Who defines my best interests?”

“You do,” Sharon said. She snorted, again. “The Mind Techs were not allowed to suggest that I — or someone else — might define your best interests for you.”

“Creepy,” Tiberius said.

“Exactly,” Sharon agreed. “Do you see the problem?”

“You volunteered,” Tiberius said. “I read your file. You were offered an excellent rate of pay and superb retirement package in exchange for accepting the conditioning.”

“I know that,” Sharon said. “But don’t you see the point? The Mind Techs and the people who recruited me treated me as an object. They thought I could be reprogrammed to suit their desires — even if all they gave me was loyalty, I wasn’t the same after I stood up from the machine. And if it wasn’t for the fact the treatment slowly wears down initiative and imagination, you’d do it to everyone. You already do to the Blackshirts. Wouldn’t you like to do the same to the Imperial Navy?”

Her face twisted into a smile. “If you could, you would,” she added. “Who would worry about a mutiny if everyone was conditioned into service? Oh, you’d have reason to worry if your conditioned pawns ever had to face a real emergency. But you tacitly assumed for centuries that there would never be another interstellar war. Why not seek to condition everyone?

“And where does it end? The entire human race turned into a ant colony, with only a handful of people still possessing free will?

“You’d love to wield such power. Even if you didn’t, the other Family Heads would want it. And why not? It would make them safe forever. All it would cost them is treating everyone like objects. And that’s why you have a rebellion on your hands now. You’ve been treating people as objects so long that they’ve finally had enough of it.”

Tiberius forced himself to remain calm, even though her words cut at him. “We wouldn’t do that…”

“You’ve been doing it all along,” Sharon said. “Loyalty training, promoting your clients ahead of the competent, even insisting on your personal servants being conditioned. Why wouldn’t you condition everyone in the Empire if you could work out the logistics?”

She sat back, then smiled again. “Think about it,” she said. “Those poor children. Their dead mother. The workers who aren’t promoted because they’re not seen as politically reliable. The starship crewmen who aren’t offered a chance to shine because they might try to take power for themselves, or because they won’t kiss the ass of people born to their rank and station. The miners who are left to starve because maintaining their colony is not cost-effective. The colonists who are dumped on a lethal world, expected to develop it into something liveable or die trying. All of them have hopes and dreams, aspirations and plans… and you destroy them casually, because it suits you. Because of a balance statement, or because of your fears, or even because you’re grouchy one morning.”

Tiberius stared at her. “I have never destroyed lives because I was grouchy one morning.”

Sharon met his eyes. “Are you sure of that?”

“I don’t know,” Tiberius admitted. He looked up at her, wonderingly. He’d never given much thought to the conditioned, apart from noting that they were loyal and unimaginative — but then, most of the ones he encountered were slaves. “What do you think I should do?”

“Try to remember that you’re not dealing with numbers in an account statement,” Sharon advised. “You’ve already made one step forward by helping the vulnerable. Now you can try and see what else you can do.”

“And see if the rebels will talk instead of destroying us,” Tiberius said. By his calculations, Gwendolyn and Pompey should have encountered the rebels by now. But he knew there was little they could offer until the rebels scored a decisive victory. And, if the rebels lost, there would be no need to negotiate. “Thank you for your advice.”

He watched her go, mulling over what she’d said. It had honestly never occurred to him that she could provide such profound insight, particularly as her boundaries were almost as limited as his own. But then, she knew her own condition, even if she wasn’t really allowed to think about it. Tiberius was just as much as slave as Sharon, with the added complication that he couldn’t really leave. He would be Family Head until the day he died…

Unless they do manage to unseat me, he thought. Shaking his head, he pulled up the next report and started to read. Unless that day came, he had his duty. And then someone else will be stuck with the job.