Democracy's Light

Chapter Seven

“Madam Ambassador, we are nearing the verge of the solar system now,” Captain Dayton said, through the intercom. “Might I suggest that you come to the bridge when we make emergence?”

“Of course,” Carola Wilhelm said. She allowed herself a smile at the obvious relief in his voice. Dayton might be loyal, very loyal, to Admiral Wilhelm, but the responsibility of ferrying an Ambassador and the Admiral’s wife was a heavy one. “I shall be up there promptly.”

She stood up as the channel closed and braced herself for the coming challenge. It was possible, she supposed, that the rebels would greet the Victorious with a hail of missiles — in which case her career as an Ambassador would come to a screeching halt — but she was fairly certain that they would choose to hear her out first, if nothing else. She’d read enough of the reports forwarded to her husband about the rebels to know that they took outdated concepts like the Moscow Accords and suchlike seriously, suggesting a certain naivety about how the universe worked. It would give her an opening she could use to make her case on Earth, before Parliament.

The mirror-field shimmered into existence at her command and she checked her appearance quickly, competently inspecting every inch of her body. She had allowed her dark hair to grow longer, but she wore it in a businesslike style, rather than allowing it to hang down and suggest a looser attitude. She had forsworn a uniform — it wasn’t as if she was a legal member of the Imperial Navy, after all — and chosen, instead, to wear a dark suit, matching the colour of her hair. She was a petite woman — she’d often joked that she was a perfect fit for her husband — but she knew she looked impressive.

She heard the timer counting down the last minutes, but ignored it, concentrating on her plans. She’d met and married Admiral Wilhelm back when he’d been a lowly Commander, an irony that hadn’t escaped her. Colin Harper had been a Commander when he’d started the rebellion against the Empire and turned the universe upside down. She’d promptly taken over her husband’s career, boosting him upwards from Commander to Commodore and finally Admiral, even though it had involved dealing with the Hohenzollern Clan. The Thousand Families might have had the power, but in her experience they simply didn’t have the intelligence or the mindset to take advantage of the chaos. Stacy Roosevelt might whine about how she wasn’t being waited on hand and foot these days, but Carola had seen, right from the start, that there was opportunity for someone swift and ruthless enough to exploit it. Why shouldn’t Markus Wilhelm, and her through him, have a shot at the Imperial Throne?

After all, the rebels have just proved that the system can be overturned, she thought, as she pinned on her single piece of jewellery. The firestar gem gleamed between her breasts, shining out against the darkness of her suit, drawing the eye towards its light. They were rare, so rare that very few people would ever have a single piece made with the gems, but the aristocratic bitch who’d owned it would never need it again. It still made her smile. Lady Hohenzollern and Stacy Roosevelt had arrived at Cottbus, in the serene expectation that they still ruled, walking right into the trap. She would use or discard them as she willed.

The hatch hissed open as she walked out, the pair of armed bodyguards falling in behind her, forcing everyone they passed to give her plenty of room. Carola wasn’t unaware of the dangers — the presence of her bodyguards would be resented — but there was little choice. Her husband might have been a competent strategist, but he lacked her killer instinct and insight into the human mind. They made a strong combination… but were they strong enough to outwit and defeat the rebels?

“Remain here,” she said, as they reached the access hatch to the bridge. The sole guard posted there, a Marine, nodded to the bodyguards once, while allowing her access to the bridge. She’d seen the bridge before, but the hive of activity never failed to awe her. After all, she hadn’t had any training and knew almost nothing about how the starship functioned. She had to trust the Captain to handle his ship, while she did the talking.

“Welcome,” Captain Dayton said. He nodded towards the timer, showing the last five minutes before the starship re-emerged into normal space. Earth, as befitted the heart of the Empire, had emergence zones well away from the planet itself, unlike some other worlds. “Please take a seat.”

He waved a hand towards a second chair, placed at the heart of the bridge. The Victorious had originally been designed as a flagship for a planned class of battlecruisers, although the rebellion had prevented the construction of additional units. The Commodore’s chair was next to the Captain’s chair, although it was slightly recessed, reminding everyone that the Captain had — in theory — the final authority on his ship. In practice, there were plenty of Commodores who were happy to run both the starship and the squadron themselves. The Imperial Navy, according to her husband, had never been short of friction between the ranks.

“I hope that this will be a gentle transition,” she said, remembering her first faster-than-light flight with a shudder. “Did you program the drive so that we came out at rest to the planet?”

“Yes, My Lady,” Dayton assured her. “It should be as smooth a return to normal space as we get in this day and age.”

“Emergence,” the helmsman said. The starship’s lights flickered as it returned to normal space. “Emergence complete. Drive cycling down to standby and recharging.”

Carola braced herself, but she only felt queasy for a second, as if she had swallowed something bad. It was far more likely that a return to normal space would have left her on the verge of throwing up, but the helmsman and the engineers were clearly good at their jobs. Admiral Wilhelm had insisted on regenerating his entire fleet, partly as an excuse to avoid sending additional units to the front lines, and it showed. The Cottbus Sector Fleet was the best in the Empire, with the possible exception of the Shadow Fleet.

“Emergence zone is clear,” the sensor officer reported. “I am reading at least four squadrons of superdreadnaughts near Earth, twenty-one of them apparently of an unfamiliar design…”

“How do you know they’re superdreadnaughts?” Carola asked, interrupting him. She ignored the sidelong glance from the Captain, only vaguely aware that she had committed some breach of etiquette. “They could be other ships, couldn’t they?”

“Their power curves are far too large to be anything, but superdreadnaughts,” the sensor officer said, slowly. She got the impression he hadn’t known if he should answer her or not. “There are hundreds of sublight craft moving around in the system, but I don’t have any clear identification on them yet. There’s nothing in any position to engage us, unless they’re using cloaked pickets.”

Her bemusement must have shown on her face, for Captain Dayton explained. “The pirates are fond of lurking in an emergence zone under cloak and trying to hijack freighters when they emerge from flicker-space,” he said. If he resented having to explain what must have been basic details to her, he didn’t show it. “The rebels might have had a few ships lurking in the emergence zone, but apparently not. We’re not going to be launching probes, of course.”

Carola nodded. In a universe where any emerging attack force launched probes as a matter of course, looking for cloaked starships and other unpleasant surprises, launching probes alone could be considered a hostile act. Now that they were in the solar system, with at least four squadrons of superdreadnaughts nearby, she had the urge to be as unthreatening as possible. Any one of them could have blown the Victorious into flaming plasma if the battlecruiser came within range of their weapons.

“They will have picked us up the moment we arrived,” Captain Dayton added. “I suspect that they will be trying to decide if we’re an early section of an assault force or a starship that lost its way. The longer they take to hail us and demand to know what we’re doing here, the higher up the question will have gone before its answered.”

“I see,” Carola said. She glanced down at her timepiece. “We’ve been here for three minutes. Does that mean that the rebels haven’t told their senior leaders that we’re here?”

“I have no idea,” Captain Dayton said. “The only thing we can do is…”

“Contact,” the sensor officer snapped, as nine red icons flickered into existence on the display. An alarm rang and Carola found herself tensing up. “I have nine battlecruisers, flickering into long-range engagement range. They’re sweeping us with targeting sensors…”

“Hold your fire,” Captain Dayton said. Carola looked up at the red sensor beams washing over the display and shivered. The drive wouldn’t have finished recharging yet. If the newcomers decided to open fire… the Victorious wouldn’t last very long. “Do nothing without a direct order…”

The Victorious won’t be victorious, a part of her mind whispered, tritely. I guess I won’t come home at all…

Her life seemed to flash in front of her eyes. She remembered meeting Markus when they’d both been younger and accepting his suit, against the wishes of her parents. She remembered becoming part of the social scene, sucking up to the Thousand Families and doing everyone else down, while painstakingly manipulating everyone she could to enhance his career. As his star rose, so did hers, while outsiders were used or cast aside as she willed. Their relationship was an odd one, even by the standards of the Empire, but it had been comfortable and it had lasted. So many others didn’t stand the test of time.

“We are being hailed,” the communications officer said, finally. “They want to know what we’re doing here.”

“Transmit our standard IFF,” Captain Dayton said. There was a long pause. “Ambassador, you’re up next.”

The display reformatted itself into a holographic flatscreen, showing a young woman wearing a light blue uniform. Carola recognised nothing, but the gold ring of a Captain she wore on her finger. She looked too young to be doing anything, but sitting in school and giggling over teenage crushes, but it was probably the effect of anti-aging treatments. Everyone who joined the Imperial Navy for a long term received them as a matter of course. It ensured that there was no shortage of volunteers and sweetened the treatment that new recruits received from their shipmates.

“Victorious, this is Captain Cabrera of the William Butcher,” she said. Her voice wasn’t young at all, but deep and cold. Carola mentally revised her estimate of the girl’s age upwards. “You have entered secure space. Please state your purpose or be fired upon.”

Friendly, aren’t they? Carola thought wryly. “This is Ambassador Wilhelm, representing the Cottbus Sector,” she said, allowing ice to creep into her own voice. “Is this the way that you greet representatives to the new government?”

She pressed on before the rebel Captain could interrupt. “I have with me letters from the Sector Government and identification from the local councils,” she continued. “I expected to present them to Parliament and the Provisional Government, not to be treated like a suspect and greeted with pointed weapons. I should warn you that such a reception could cause an interplanetary incident.”

“Ah, welcome to Earth,” the rebel said, clearly feeling a little out of her depth. Carola didn’t blame her for that. The Empire’s normal way of dealing with diplomatic issues was to send in the Imperial Navy to crush any dissent. Diplomacy was a forgotten skill on Earth, although someone who had spent years as a social queen would certainly understand the principles, if she could get over the idea that social inferiors were always permanently inferior. “Might I enquire as to your intentions?”

Carola sighed with exaggerated patience. “Of course,” she said. “I intend to take up a parking orbit somewhere in orbit around Earth — yes, this entire ship is my Embassy, with diplomatic immunity under the Tau Ceti Convention — and present my credentials to the Provisional Government. Please would you designate us a parking orbit at once?”

There was a long pause. “I am transmitting a course now,” the rebel said, finally. “I must warn you that if you bring up shields and weapons so close to Earth you will be fired upon without further warning. Any sign of a hostile act will draw a lethal response.”

Her image vanished from the display. “Charming lot, aren’t they?” Carola remarked, to no one in particular. She wasn’t really annoyed. She would have been very surprised if the rebels had simply allowed them to take up low orbit without asking a few sharp questions first. “Captain, follow their course and don’t deviate. Let’s show them how obedient we can be.”

She leaned back in her chair as the battlecruiser rumbled to life, following another of the enemy — no, the rebels, she reminded herself forcibly — battlecruisers towards Earth. Space seemed to be crowded around the planet, with massive defence fortresses competing with asteroid industry nodes and giant habitations. It wasn’t much better out towards the Moon. Earth’s companion was surrounded with its own halo of asteroids and stations, while hundreds of starships buzzed around, struggling to rebuild a tottering economic base.

Her eyes narrowed as she took in the sheer scale of the activity. It was impressive enough, but she understood more about economics than she did about naval service and it suggested that the rebels were working frantically to rebuild their own forces. She knew better than to jump to any conclusions — there was no way to know for sure without access to some human intelligence and most of her old networks were probably in ruins by this time — but it was interesting… and worrying. If nothing else, the trip would be worthwhile because of the intelligence…

“They’ve designated a slot in high orbit, near one of the fortresses,” Captain Dayton said, breaking into her thoughts. A white icon gleamed on the display. It looked uncomfortably close to a massive fortress, large enough for four superdreadnaughts, and she had to remind herself that the display wasn’t to scale. The odds of an accidental collision would be minimal, although they would definitely be still within missile range. “I doubt that they will let us get any closer to the planet’s surface.”

Carola nodded. Even she knew the dangers of a single rogue starship so close to a planet — and, indeed, the rebels had let them get closer than she had expected. After the destruction of the eight cruisers — which, in hindsight, might have been a mistake — they had to suspect that Admiral Wilhelm was planning something, but they’d allowed her to come to the planet. They might want to know what she brought them, or perhaps they might want her to stand trial, or… she pushed the thought out of her head. There was no way to know, yet.

“Entering the gravity shadow now,” the helmsman said. Carola had expected a bump, or some feeling that would have signified that they had crossed the line, but there was nothing. The only change would come if they tried to flicker out. If they were lucky, the only thing that would happen would be the drive burning out. The consequences if they weren’t lucky didn’t bear thinking about. “They’ve got us dead in their sights.”

“As you were,” Captain Dayton growled. He was feeling the tension as well, evidently, although he still looked calm. Carola, who had had plenty of experience in keeping her face firmly under control, couldn’t have bettered it. “They’ve shown us no sign of hostility yet.”

“Good,” Carola said. She stood up and smiled. “Captain, signal the surface and request a landing site for us to meet with the provisional government so that I can present my credentials. Ask them, in particular, if they have a data package on the form of their new government that we can study. They’ll try to set a time; accept anything after two hours.”

She stepped off the bridge and allowed her bodyguards to lead her back to the cabin, where she waited until the data packet came through the starship’s computer systems, along with a note saying that the Provisional Government would be happy to meet with her in five hours. She considered, briefly, objecting, but it wasn’t worth the effort. Besides, she wanted time to study and prepare for the meeting. She was grimly aware of just how little they knew, back at Cottbus, of the rebel government.

The data packet was surprisingly concise, which suggested that someone from outside the Thousand Families had written it. Carola knew that the Thousand Families could transform something as simple as an invitation to dinner into a two thousand-verse poem, but the data packet was simple. The Provisional Government was still taking shape, but its basic form was already clear. It might not have been style over substance, as she had feared, but it was understandable. They had decided that each world would be allowed to elect one MP, but owing to the size of the Empire only five hundred or so had come to Earth to take their seats.

It won’t be too long before they start to faction, she thought. She had half-expected a dictatorship, with a veneer of democracy, but this seemed to be the real thing. She had to caution herself that they might be lying, or deceiving themselves, but it certainly read as if the writer believed what he was writing. Public Information could not have done a better job.

She smiled. She had anticipated difficulties, but it was going to be easier than she had thought.