Her guide nudged her forward as Blondel introduced her. “Ambassador Carola Wilhelm has come from Cottbus to speak before us,” she said. Carola stepped forwards, onto the dais, as the MPs rose briefly. She was surprised by that show of respect, but she wondered if Blondel fully appreciated what she’d done. By honouring her as an Ambassador, she’d ensured that Carola’s status was not in doubt.
Someone shouted, from the back. “And what happened to our ships?”
Carola ignored him, even thought she’d been surprised. Looking up into the faces of the massed MPs, something in her soul tried to cringe, even though she’d faced worse in high society. There was something about the building that focused all of their attention on her, pointing over a thousand eyes at her, and it was hugely intimidating. There were people who would sooner have fought the Dathi stark naked than speak in public and even though Carola had had that beaten out of her at an early age, it was still terrifying. If she hadn’t prepared most of her speech beforehand, using formalities so old that few even remembered they existed, she would have been completely tongue-tied.
“Honoured Members, Speaker of the House, thank you for welcoming me,” she said, carefully formal. Once she’d started to speak, it became much easier. It was crossing the first hurdle that was so hard. “I come to you as a representative of the Cottbus Sector, liberated by Admiral Wilhelm from the tyranny of the Hohenzollern Clan.”
We’ll have to arrest them after all, she thought, as gasps echoed through the room. The main disadvantage with the sound-effect field was that it picked up almost everything, despite the best filtration software money could buy, and projected it over the entire room. The MPs reactions would be painfully obvious, even if she could barely make out their faces. Some would believe her, some would refuse to believe her, and some would pretend to believe her. The contest was up and running…
“When we heard about the rebellion, we prepared our own plans, and struck after the Fall of Earth,” she continued. The irony was that she wasn’t really lying, even if it meant discarding Lady Hohenzollern and Stacy Roosevelt. Perhaps there would be an SD left to… entertain the latter. “We removed the handful of clients who refused to switch sides, deprogrammed the SD troopers and took control of everything within the sector, including the Type-I shipyard created by the Empire.”
There were more gasps — and a great deal of calculation — at that point. Type-I shipyards were rare — there were only three of them in the Empire, one of which had been seriously damaged during the rebellion — and they produced superdreadnaughts. Given time, of course, newer facilities could be constructed, but the Cottbus Sector would have a lead on anyone else. Admiral Wilhelm had started expanding the shipyard and its workforce at once, but the Hohenzollern Clan had left the entire system a ghastly mess. Merely sacking a handful of managers had improved efficiency by thirty percent. The rebels wanted — they had to want — that shipyard.
“While you were debating the formation of a new government, we were holding elections and producing a provisional government of our own,” she said. That was a flat lie, at least in part; the provisional government was effectively a military one, ruled by Admiral Wilhelm. “We were organising ourselves when your cruisers arrived and, owing to an unfortunate series of circumstances, we believed that they intended to ram our command fortress, which would have killed most of our government. We opened fire on the ships and destroyed them. It was a dreadful mistake for which we take full responsibility.”
She paused. “And now we have to make a decision about the future of the Empire.
“We have heard much through the ICN about the plans for a new Empire,” she said, hoping that her voice convoyed only what she wanted it to convoy. This was the delicate part. “We want no part of them. We organised ourselves, without help from you, and we deny your right to dictate to us what we should do. We do not wish to be part of an Empire where the Thousand Families continue to have a hand in government, or in running facilities against the will of their own workers, or where aliens are granted the freedom to prey on the human race again. This is the decision of the entire sector.”
And now we’re definitely going to have to shoot them, she thought, as the MPs came alive, some shouting, others calling out objections. The chaos would have been deafening without the sound-effect field compensating, but it was still painful to hear and showed, all too clearly, the weakness of the new government. They might have had their own doubts about the aliens, or about letting the former rulers of the Empire take a hand in the new Empire, but they wouldn’t appreciate her words, if only because they were so close to their own feelings.
Blondel pushed a button on her panel and the sound-effect field blanked out. Carola winced at the sudden deadness in her ear — the field was suppressing all sound — before it faded and was gone. It was, she recalled, sometimes used as a torture instrument by the SDs, something that had probably passed Parliament without being noticed. They wouldn’t have been happy to know that, with a few careful adjustments, it could be used to deliver tremendous pain, even if it would concentrate a few minds.
“May I remind the Honourable Members,” Blondel said, “that this is the Parliament of the Empire, not some debating society or spacers bar? The Empire expects its chosen leaders to comport themselves in a manner befitting their status. If you cannot control yourselves, I will have the room cleared until tempers have cooled.”
The MPs settled down, with a vague undercurrent of mass rebellion. “Ambassador, you may continue,” Blondel said, icily.
“You have illustrated my point,” Carola said. “You claim to represent the entire Empire, but I see no one from Cottbus in the room, apart from myself. How many sectors lack a representative? How far does your writ actually run?”
She peered around the room. “We — the people of Cottbus — do not, cannot, trust a government that includes representatives, far too many representatives, from the old order,” she said. “How can we trust them when they have looted, raped and exploited our worlds? We made a choice, Honourable Members, and that choice is to go our own way. The Cottbus Sector is formally declaring independence from the Empire.
“We will, of course, exchange Ambassadors and I see no reason for any immediate hostilities,” she concluded. She pushed a note of sincere regret into her voice. “We believe, however, that this is for the best.”
There was a long pause… and then there was a barrage of questions, each one more intimidating than a missile salvo. Why don’t you trust us? What proof do you have that this is what your people want? Why don’t you like the aliens? Why? Why? Why?
Blondel tapped for silence, again. “There is no precedent for having an Ambassador in the Chamber,” she said, “and we cannot force you to answer questions, but if you would consider…”
“Of course,” Carola said, scenting victory. The rebels were already unsure of their own ground. Ironically, if they dismissed Cottbus’s demand for independence out of hand, they called into question the very legitimacy of their own government. The Empire had been legitimate because it had been the only government for nearly a thousand years. The Provisional Government was barely six months old. “I would be honoured to serve the cause of truth and answer question.”
An MP pushed his buzzer. “Your government is led by a former Admiral in the Imperial Navy,” he said. “A Hohenzollern client, no less. How do we know that you are telling the truth?”