Colin scowled. “Do you remember when I said that we shouldn’t scorch Earth?” David nodded. “I was wrong. The entire planet is driving me mad.”
David quirked an eyebrow at him. “It’s that bad?”
“It’s a nightmare,” Colin said. “I never realised just how bad it was… and I should have known. There are thousands of competing interests, over everything, and somehow I have to cajole, bribe or force them into marching in the same direction. Push one place, half a dozen others protest loudly, press for one policy, discover that the price of support is later support for something you know damn well shouldn’t be done.”
He sighed. “The Families want to keep as much of their power as possible, but many of their workers have unionised and are demanding better treatment, while the colonies and the first-rank worlds have seized much of their assets in payment for centuries of economic rape. The higher officers of the Imperial Navy hate my guts, not without reason, and think I intend to replace them all…”
“You do,” David pointed out. “How many of them are fit to kiss Admiral Percival’s ass?”
“There are times when I worry about you,” Colin said, wryly. “You’re right, I do intend to clean out as many as possible, but they all have patrons. Add in the fact that half of them have friends and allies in the outer sectors, some of them commanding some quite serious firepower… I’m surprised that no one has managed to organise them by now.”
“Someone might have done,” David pointed out. “Why did you agree to accept Admiral Wachter as CNO?”
“They wanted someone reassuring and I wanted him somewhere I could keep an eye on him,” Colin said. “I’m tired, I feel old… and I don’t dare take a long break for fear of something breaking. I used to play chess and basketball, but now I don’t even dare let myself do that. I’ve tied myself down to the High City and…”
He shook his head. “And I’m feeling sorry for myself,” he concluded. “When do you hope to have this carrier wing ready for deployment?”
“Give us a few weeks and we’ll have the force ready,” David said. “You do sound as if you need a break. Isn’t there somewhere on Earth you can go for a while, away from any responsibilities?”
“And when I got back, everything would be falling apart and we’d be fighting a second civil war,” Colin said, tiredly. “Give it a couple of years without any major disasters and I might be able to relax, secure in the knowledge that Parliament is in control of the Empire and all possible internal threats have been neutralised.”
“And that’s not going to happen,” David said. “There are always going to be problems.” He paused. “On the other hand… how many problems does Admiral Percival have?”
“None,” Colin said. “He’s dead.”
“And it suits him,” David said. “Now, the pilots are quite eager to meet you, so…”
Colin allowed him to lead him into the wardroom, where the pilots were waiting, and spent the next hour happily chatting to them, despite the differences in their ranks. The Shadow Fleet hadn’t encouraged the exaggerated deference of the Imperial Navy — there had been officers who had demanded a full prostration from their subordinates — and there was a certain air of informality, although there was still a barrier. Colin realised, numbly, that he had grown into his role… and the young pilots were still at the beginnings of their careers. To them, all of the new ways were nothing new.
“Perhaps, afterwards, I’ll obtain a survey ship and go exploring out beyond the Rim,” he said to David, who smiled. “That would be something wonderful.”
They were interrupted by the arrival of a courier boat. “Admiral, we have a message for you,” the communications officer said. Colin skimmed it quickly, cursing under his breath. It had been almost exactly what he had been dreading. “Your presence is required back on Earth.”
Colin scowled. “See what I mean?” He asked, dryly. There would be time to reprimand the communications officer later. It wasn’t generally a good idea to discuss messages in front of everyone, even if it wasn’t a surprise. “David, get the wing worked up as quickly as possible. I think they’re going to be needed.”
The pilots cheered.
Chapter Three
Lord Wakefield was throwing a party and everyone who was anyone was invited.
Kathy Tyler, no longer Lady Kathy, watched from a balcony as the bright young things of the Thousand Families congregated below her. The party, one of hundreds that had been thrown ever since the Fall of Earth, was packed, with thousands of young men and women — and some who looked young, but weren’t — buzzing around and trying to pretend that nothing had changed. It was a costume party, which meant that there were all kinds of extraordinary outfits being worn, the more outrageous tickling the fancy of the young even as they shocked the old. Here, in the heart of Wakefield House, it was possible to forget the war.
There were seven young men wearing top hats and black suits, as if they were going to a wedding, dancing with ladies who wore skirts so wide that they had to reach out to their partners and looked to be permanently on the verge of toppling over. There were girls who wore harem outfits, held on by the eyes of every young man and not a few of the young women in the room, and young men wearing what they fondly imagined to be peasant outfits. There were men and women wearing Chinese, Japanese, Russian and even Arab outfits, while trying to outshine the remainder of the room. There was a girl wearing an outfit of shimmering light, held wrapped around her body by a force field that hinted rather than revealed, while her partner wore nothing, but an oversized codpiece. It said, Kathy decided after a moment’s thought, something about his insecurities. A penis that size would have caused serious harm to a girl.
Naked pleasure slaves, their dull eyes showing no trace of intelligence or even thought, wandered the room, carrying trays of the finest food and drink from a dozen worlds. The Thousand Families might not have been top dog any more, but no one would have known it from Lord Wakefield’s spread. The missing implanted slaves and even a handful of men and women who had survived Imperial Intelligence only to be enslaved by the Lords and Masters of the Empire were the only sign that anything had really changed… and few were sorry to see them go. As far as Kathy knew, no implant had ever lost its control over a slave, but it remained a persistent nightmare.
And besides, they had always given her the creeps.
Colin had, at her strong recommendation, created a whole new series of laws for the Thousand Families. Fathers could no longer have their children altered to fit their specifications. They could no longer scrabble and fight over pieces of an ever-shrinking pie. They could no longer use their connections and patronage to ensure that the aristocrats who wanted to enter the Imperial Navy rose well beyond the level of their competence. Perhaps, most important of all, the older and larger Families no longer dominated the social scene. Kathy hadn’t been surprised by how enthusiastically the younger members of the Families had embraced that particular change. The world of the Thousand Families had always been a dog-eat-dog world…
And she’d chosen to leave it, long ago, to travel to Sector 117 in hopes of earning a new fortune for her Family. Instead, she’d been kidnapped by Jason Cordova, an Imperial Navy renegade and found herself joining the rebellion. She didn’t regret it at all, not least because now she was Minister for Industry and all the bright young things whose idea of fun had been to grope her — the Tyler Family had never been very important — had to be polite to her. She hadn’t abused the position, much, but it had opened her eyes to the realities of the Empire. Lord Wakefield’s grand bash — she dreaded to think how much it had cost him, something she had never thought about before she had left for the Rim — wouldn’t change anything. The times were moving on and the Thousand Families would be left behind.