Democracy's Light

Chapter Thirty-Eight

“My God,” Blondel Dupre breathed, as the aircar started to descend over the Cicero Estate. “Is this how they live all the time?”

Colin privately shared her awe, although he was much more practiced at keeping it from showing on his face. The Cicero Estate, quite literally, stretched away as far as the eye could see, hundreds of kilometres of land that belonged to the Clan, almost completely uninhabited apart from the Family Members, inhabiting their mansions that were small only in contrast to the massive building rising up ahead of them. The architect who had designed the building had combined several different styles into one whole that somehow managed to prevent a different appearance from each angle, keeping any outside observers confused. The building itself was massive, serving as both the home of the core of the Cicero Family and their headquarters. Colin had seen superdreadnaughts and command fortresses that were smaller.

Earth itself was largely uninhabited, a combination of a determined emigration policy and a draconian population control effort. The Federation had believed, or claimed to believe, that there had been too many people on Earth and had been quite ruthless in encouraging as many people to leave as possible, even to the point of enforcing a one-child policy on every human living on Earth. The Empire had taken advantage of the policy and, over the thousand years of its existence, had completely depopulated Earth, apart from their own people. It was the home of the Thousand Families, although Tiberius had once told him that there were still rumours of feral humans living in the wildness away from all settlement. The remains of the older cities had been razed to the ground centuries ago. No one knew if there were really rogue humans out there.

He cast his gaze over the endless swarm of incoming aircars and muttered a curse under his breath. He hadn’t realised, not really, just how many people would be coming to Tiberius’s wedding; after all, he had invited all of the Thousand Families, and as many of the real movers and shakers as he could. The MPs had been invited as a body, although Colin had heard that only a third of them were going to attend, while several of the Families that disliked Cicero had refused to send more than token representation. Colin would have been happier if Blondel hadn’t been accompanying him, but there was no way to avoid inviting the Empire’s Prime Minister. He hadn’t even had time to warn her about the possibility — the near-certainty — that someone would make an attempt on his life.

Her face was darker than he’d expected when he looked at her. He could guess at her thoughts. The men and women who owned such vast estates — the Cicero Estate wasn’t even the largest on the planet — had torn Macore, her homeworld, apart, just to add a few extra megacredits to their holdings. It wouldn’t even have saved the Empire, or delayed economic collapse for any time at all; if Kathy was right, only the most draconian of measures would save the Empire, and looting a tiny economy was actually counter-productive. It hadn’t been a necessary evil. It had been a cold, petty and banal evil.

Macore would have had a simpler way of dealing with Tiberius as well. A suspect in a crime, any crime, would be interrogated under a lie detector. If found innocent, he would be freed at once, while if found guilty he could be tried and sentenced. The Empire had had similar policies, but someone of Tiberius’s rank would have been immune merely because of his name, even if he committed the most vile crimes imaginable. The Thousand Families were long used to burying their mistakes, sweeping their outcasts and criminals under the carpet, those who had shocked the hardened governors of high society. It would have to be serious for anyone even to care, let alone cutting the culprit dead in the streets. In order to get the proof, inarguable proof, that he needed, he had to expose his back to a sword wielded by one of his closest allies. He would have laughed under other circumstances.

“They made this world into their palace,” he agreed, as the aircar dropped neatly to the ground in front of the main entrance. Flower girls, wearing outfits that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, greeted them at once, inviting them to enter the building and treat it as their own home. Judging from the number of MPs that were already surrounding the buffet, the invitation was being accepted by almost everyone. “Shall we enter?”

Colin had grown up in a fairly middle-class home on one of the second-rank worlds. It hadn’t been an easy life, but it hadn’t been a hard one, and it wasn’t unknown for some of the inhabitants to make something of themselves, provided that they escaped being noticed by the governors. His family had always had to work to put food on the table, however, and he’d been used to working from a very early age… but looking into the entrance hall was like looking into a different world. The men and women who ran the Empire, or used to run the Empire, wanted for nothing and it showed.

The entrance hall would have outshone the greatest hall on his homeworld. Everywhere he looked, he could see men and women having a good time, carefree and wanting for nothing, although he could see some of them looking around to ensure that no one else was having a better time. As he studied them, refusing to be pushed along by the flower girls, he saw signs that all was not right. Some of the men were desperate, trying hard to convince themselves that they belonged her, laughing too loudly at every little incident. Some of their dates were growing heartily sick of them and were already looking for other meal tickets, while the men and women of the most important Families swept by with their noses in the air. Some of the snubbed guests, looked down upon by those whose support they needed, retreated to the corners to remain outside public view. Others glared back, daring the secret masters of high society to try to put them in their place, testing the real strength of their former patrons.

He shook his head finally. They were all crazy. Their world had turned upside down when his starships had battered through the defences of Earth and forced a surrender. Even if Tiberius’s plan worked and he was killed, they would only be delivering the Empire into Admiral Wilhelm’s hands, not recovering it for themselves. The handful of Family Members who were competent and capable of doing what needed to be done — Kathy and Tiberius, among others — would be buried by the others, just for telling them that they needed to cut back.

No wonder Mars is angry, he thought, as their escort finally managed to urge them on into the next room. It would have been… unseemly for the Thousand Families to grow their own food, or tend their own animals, regardless of the advantages of such a step. They could have fed an entire planet without ever having to see a farm, but that wasn’t good enough for them. They had, instead, turned Mars into the main supplier of food and drink for Earth, at astonishing expense. Prices, he’d heard, had more than tripled after the rebellion, but it wasn’t as if there were many other places to sell it. Most planets could grow their own food easily. To give the Empire its due, they had generally insured that most planets could feed themselves. Mars had a captive market, but it was one that cut both ways.

The next room was a monstrous swimming room, with two massive swimming pools, dozens of hot tubs and even a sauna field, holding enough steam inside to warm a hundred people. The swimming pools were full of bright young things, men and women showing off their perfect bodies — the result of cosmetic adjustment to fit the latest styles — in hopes of being noticed by those higher up, or someone who just wanted a fling. Only a handful of the women in the pool wore costumes, he noted with a flush of slight embarrassment; they swam naked as if they didn’t have a care in the world. The flower girl hurried them through the swimming room and directly into the next room, an internal garden with plants and flowers from all over the Empire.

Colin found himself becoming dazed as they walked through room after room. It was unbelievable wealth, completely wasted on nothing, but entertainment. There were so few people outside the Thousand Families — and even the merest of the Thousand Families was unimaginably wealthy — who could have afford such a display, even if they had wanted to make such an unnecessary display of wealth. It was like one of the illegal computer simulations he had played with as a child, one where the player had unlimited funds and could do whatever he pleased, pretending to be one of the charmed inner circle. The lifestyle of the Thousand Families was a matter of rumour, but rumour hadn’t even touched the true scale of their wealth, or how they used it.

The reporters are going to have a field day, he thought, as they passed into yet another room. He had lost track of how far they’d gone into the massive building, which might have been the point. They could have gone right into the building, or they might not even have left the entrance region, rather than seeing the inner heart of the Family. The reporters, once they told the Empire just what kind of luxury the Thousand Families enjoyed, would unleash a storm.

“This is the main reception room,” the flower girl said finally, with a curtsey. They found themselves at the top of a long series of stairs, leading down into a swarm of people, the real movers and shakers of the Empire. Colin spotted Gwendolyn Cicero and a handful of others holding court, while Jason Cordova, resplendent in his Admiral’s uniform, was lecturing a crowd of young boys on space combat tactics. Colin’s eyes flickered, almost involuntarily, to the sword on Cordova’s belt…

I’m an idiot, he thought, without heat. Oddly, it almost felt good to be finally taking a step forward, even if it was an insanely risky one. One way or the other, the question of who run the Empire — and whose reform program would go into effect — would be settled at the wedding.

“President Colin Harper, Admiral of the Shadow Fleet, and Prime Minister and First Among Equals Blondel Dupre,” the master of ceremonies thundered, as they started to descend the steps. The crowd glanced up at them, took in their faces and uniforms, and pasted expressions of welcome on their faces. Colin, who had plenty of experience with people who were trying to convince him that they liked him, could see the truth. Only a handful of men and women in the room, mainly representatives from the smaller Families, were pleased to see him. The remainder hated him for shattering their world. “Give them due honour, as they deserve.”

Colin had half-expected to find themselves talking to no one, but Kathy Tyler, wearing a simple blue dress that looked stunning on her figure, brought them into a discussion with a pair of representatives from junior Families. Colin listened with half an ear at first — most Family representatives were unimpressive — but as they continued to talk, he found himself paying more attention. A plan to continue democratising their workforces and paying more wages, as well as chances for proper advancement, was certainly worth advancing.

Blondel added her own comments as the discussion became more detailed. The Empire’s normal tactic for striking workers had been to turn the SDs on them, but without the SDs the workers had started to take over entire industries, which started to damage the already-frail economy. The workers didn’t think that they had much to lose, but the truth was that altering the economy had to be done carefully, or all would suffer. The plan to improve conditions and to ensure that competence was rewarded with advancement was effectively giving the workers what they had already, but if it was used carefully, the workers might acquire the working habits of the first-rank worlds. They, at least, had not forgotten how to be competitive.

A dull rumble of drums brought them all to attention, facing the small dais in the centre of the room. Colin had wondered how they were going to fit all of the thousands of guests into the main room, but it appeared that most of them were not going to be watching the wedding directly, but would be viewing it from their positions. Tiberius entered from one side of the room, walking alone and wearing a simple black suit, looking neither left nor right as he reached the dais. For a man who had decided to use his wedding as a chance to commit murder, Colin decided, he was looking remarkably calm. He’d seen Admirals facing an easy victory who’d looked more concerned.

Lord Roosevelt took the stand and faced the audience. Colin had been surprised to encounter a new Lord Roosevelt — it had been unlikely that anyone would actually want the job — and had looked into his background, only to discover that he was barely related to Stacy Roosevelt. He had been fifth-tier, almost certain never to inherit the headship, until the poisoned chalice that the Roosevelt Family and Clan had become was passed to him.

Poor bastard, Colin thought, dryly. In Lord Roosevelt’s place, he would have given serious thought to changing his name and taking the next ship out to the Rim with as much loot as he could carry. The Roosevelt Clan had no future now. Its clients had deserted it even before the Fall of Earth, it’s industries had been taken by the rebels and used to fight the war. They had nothing left to keep them alive.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the wedding of two of our number,” Lord Roosevelt intoned, as if it were the merest Family Member who was getting married. Colin found himself wondering if Tiberius was insulted, or if he was too busy concentrating on remaining calm to care. “Lord Tiberius Cicero will welcome Alicia into his Family…”

He droned on for nearly ten minutes before finally halting and looking down towards the entrance. Colin followed his gaze to see four of the flower girls leading the way, followed by Alicia, wearing a white dress that shone like the sun. She was followed by two other bridesmaids, holding her train, both of whom looked nervous. Kathy had told him, back before the wedding, that being bridesmaids was a honour that was impossible to decline, but it involved long formal dances and routines that killed any of the enjoyment from the ceremony. She’d been a bridesmaid once and had hated it.

Alicia looked utterly spectacular in her dress, cut to show just a hint of cleavage, as she stepped up onto the dais. She was a tall willowy blonde, with her hair coming down in straight waves, and even without cosmetics she looked stunning. Tiberius was a lucky man, Colin decided, even if their wedding was probably doomed from the start. Kathy had also said that most family weddings barely lasted more than a decade, although a handful did remain strong until one of the partners died. If he hadn’t known that Cordova had been ordered to kill him in public, he might even have enjoyed himself.

“Do you, Alicia, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Lord Roosevelt demanded. Colin wondered, absently, how he must be feeling. His Clan was a becalmed hulk, taking fire from enemies as they gathered around, while Tiberius’s Clan still looked strong. “Do you choose to wed with him, to have his children, to bring honour and joy to his Family? Speak now, or forever hold your tongue.”

Colin rolled his eyes at the overdone nature of the ceremony. The wedding had, as he understood it, been formalised when the Imperial Register had given them its blessing. The entire ceremony wasn’t really needed for anything beyond showing off the Family’s wealth and, of course, introducing Alicia to the core of high society as the Cicero’s wife. It was, in some ways, a greater change in her status than anything that Colin himself had endured.

“I do,” she said, calmly. Her voice had been tuned perfectly for the gathering. It was firm, yet soft and warm. It echoed perfectly around the room. “I take him to my heart and soul.”

“Good,” Lord Roosevelt said. He leaned forward. If he saw any irony in his position, he didn’t show it. “You may join hands.”

Tiberius held out a hand. After a moment, Alicia took it. “I join thee now as man and wife,” Lord Roosevelt said, as he wrapped a silken cord around their wrists, symbolising their joining. It was a ritual that had endured for over a thousand years, used by most of the colony worlds. “You may now kiss the bride.”

They kissed. The room burst into cheers.

Colin felt his timepiece buzz. It was almost time. The crowd was moving forward now, advancing on the bride and groom to wish them the best of luck, but he could sense, now, that something wasn’t quite right. Something had changed in the room.

“No,” Cordova shouted, from behind him. Colin started, pushing Blondel away before she could react, as he turned to face the parting crowds. Cordova was moving forward incredibly fast, his sword already in his hand. It glinted madly in the light, Colin saw, feeling his mind reel. He wasn’t used to up close and personal combat. “You won’t…”

The sword flashed once, aimed at Colin’s chest…

And then all hell broke loose.