Tiberius shook his head. They would be doing the same thing too.
And besides, he added, in the privacy of his own head, the Cicero Family had an unfair advantage. All it required was the right messenger…
Chapter Two
Admiral Joshua Wachter was a short, stumpy man, wearing a simple black uniform without any rank badges or medals. No, Tiberius realised, as the Admiral came to a halt in front of his desk; it wasn’t a uniform at all, just something tailored to resemble one. The Admiral was making a statement, warning Tiberius that he still considered himself a naval officer first and foremost. Tiberius was almost relieved. It was nice to deal with someone who wasn’t putting his own interests — or his Patron’s interests — ahead of everything else.
“Please, be seated,” Tiberius said. “We have a great deal to talk about.”
He studied the Admiral with some interest as the older man sat down. Like most aristocrats, the Admiral could have taken advantage of the latest rejuvenation treatments, but it was clear that he hadn’t bothered. His medical file stated that his last treatment had been two weeks after he’d been placed on permanent leave from the Navy. It was clear that Wachter lacked the vanity of so many other officers his age.
“The rebellion, I presume,” the Admiral said.
Tiberius wasn’t too surprised. In theory, Public Information was maintaining a complete news blackout, but the destruction of the Jupiter Shipyard was hard to miss. By now, according to his sources, word was spreading rapidly through the Sol System. The Empire might control all licensed media outlets, but the underground had its own ways of spreading information. And someone like the Admiral would probably still have friends in the Navy, men and women who might pass on the word.
“Yes,” Tiberius said. He picked up a datapad from his desk and held it out. “This is the situation, as of this morning. I won’t insult your intelligence by pointing out that much of it is out of date.”
The Admiral quirked his eyebrows, then took the pad and started to read. Tiberius watched carefully, trying to read the man’s emotions, but it was impossible. The Admiral was well-schooled in keeping his face expressionless, even without an electronic mask or emotional control implants. That too wasn’t surprising. No one reached high office without the ability to mask their emotions, dissemble and lie outright, should it be necessary.
“Interesting,” the Admiral observed, when he had finished. “You do realise the underlying cause of this revolution?”
Tiberius suspected he did, but motioned for Wachter to continue anyway.
“The system is not designed to allow the smart, talented and ambitious a chance to flourish,” the Admiral said. “Men and women who know they are more competent than their superiors are kept back, watching helplessly as people are promoted merely on the grounds of birth or their willingness to kiss the ass of the aristocrats. It doesn’t really breed loyalty when you constantly keep the talented down, does it?”
“Apparently not,” Tiberius agreed, coolly.
“Take yourself, for example,” the Admiral continued. “You are younger and less experienced than most of the adults in your family. Your sole qualification for being Family Head is being the biological son of the previous Family Head. I would not be too surprised if elements in your family were quietly trying to undermine your position. Why should they not resent your elevation over your head?”
Tiberius knew the Admiral had a point. He’d never asked to succeed his father; indeed, he’d expected the old man had many years to go before death. But he hadn’t really been given a choice.
He cleared his throat. “Thank you for being direct,” he said. “Let me ask you a question in return. Which side are you on?”
Others, he knew, would probably not give him a honest answer. But he had a feeling the Admiral would be honest, even if it killed him.
The Admiral considered the question for a long moment. “The Empire has its flaws, but it maintains human unity and human unity is the key to human survival,” he said, finally. “We were taught that in the last interstellar war. The rebels may seek reform now, but they will unleash forces that will either shatter the Empire or push them to replacing the Thousand Families with an aristocracy of their own. The only thing holding humanity together is the strong hand of Empire. I cannot side with rebels.”
He met Tiberius’s eyes. “Which isn’t to say that I don’t think reforms have to be made,” he added. “The rebels do have legitimate complaints. If you could answer them, you may prevent future rebellions.”
Tiberius remembered the Empress and shuddered. There was no way the Families Council would agree to dismantle the patronage networks, if that was even possible. The networks weren’t just there to boost their power and status, they were there to prevent another Empress from seizing control of a large portion of the fleet and turning it against the Empire. But the networks seemed to have failed. The rebels might be six months from Earth — but that had been six months ago. Where were they now?
“That would be difficult,” he admitted. Capable officers were ambitious officers — and ambition was dangerous. “We couldn’t bring them all into the families…”
The Admiral smiled. “Why not? It would help prevent inbreeding.”
Tiberius’s eyes narrowed. The suggestion that the Thousand Families were inbred was an old slur, but it wasn’t true. Genetic engineering ensured that there were no problems with inbreeding for the families, no matter how closely they were related. Hell, there was so much engineering that it was questionable just how much of Tiberius’s father had gone into him.
“Oh, not biological inbreeding,” the Admiral said. “Intellectual inbreeding. The echo chamber created by having so many people in agreement talking together, without allowing any room for new ideas along with new blood. How many of your fellow aristocrats could even begin to understand life outside the High City?”
“Point,” Tiberius conceded, ruefully. “Most of them wouldn’t even know where to begin, if they were kicked out of the High City.”
He sighed, remembering old battles. In his opinion, at least two-thirds of the family were little more than oxygen thieves — and he suspected the same was true of the other major families. They enjoyed themselves, partying endlessly, while Tiberius and the other more responsible adults handled all the work. But then, even the vast domains of the Cicero Family were insufficient to give everyone something meaningful to do. And to think there were times when he envied the social butterflies!
“That isn’t what I called you here to discuss,” he said, rubbing his forehead. There was too much to do and too little time. “We are currently assembling a fleet to confront and defeat the rebels before they spread too far. I would like you to take command of the fleet.”
The Admiral lifted an eyebrow in pretend surprise. “Why me?”
“Because you’re loyal to the Empire,” Tiberius said. “Because you’re not loyal to a single Family. Because you are a competent naval officer. Because…”
He shook his head. “There are good reasons to select you,” he added. “And the Families Council signed off on it.”
“I’m sure that must have been a long argument,” the Admiral commented. He leaned back in his chair and placed his fingertips together. “And why should I take the job?”
“Because you’re loyal to the Empire,” Tiberius said. He’d read the Admiral’s file carefully, line by line. It had stated that the Admiral was desperate to return to space. “And because you understand what’s at stake.”