Gwendolyn smiled at him, charmingly. “All the more acceptable for having such a handsome man entering them,” she said. She crossed her legs, drawing his attention to the long slit in her kimono. “Are you going to be staying long?”
Colin felt himself flush. Her sexuality was a weapon, he knew, which didn’t stop it being terrifyingly effective. He sat down hard, then scowled at her when she started to stand up. It was hard to believe that the sex kitten facing him was the same person as the hard-headed Ambassador who’d spoken to him earlier, but she was good at pretending. The Marines had reported, not without a certain amount of embarrassment, that she’d tried hard to present them with their ideal woman. If there had been one guard assigned to her, they’d concluded, Gwendolyn would have wrapped him around her little finger by now.
“You won’t be,” Colin said. He allowed a hint of triumph to enter his voice. “We have just successfully occupied Morrison.”
The sex kitten vanished, to be replaced by a sharp-eyed persona. “Congratulations,” Gwendolyn said, darkly. “What can we do for you then?”
Colin smiled, recognising the double meaning. “In the interests of avoiding further bloodshed, I’d like you to take a message back to your superiors,” he said. “Tell them… that we would be interested in a peaceful transfer of power.”
“I believe the Family Head would also be interested,” Gwendolyn said. “But we would demand certain guarantees…”
“They would be guaranteed their lives,” Colin said. “But what else they are guaranteed depends on how quickly they surrender.”
Gwendolyn held his eyes for a long moment, then nodded. “We don’t have the authority to speak for all of the Thousand Families,” she said. Colin nodded. He wasn’t entirely sure she had the authority to speak on behalf of her family, let alone the others. “But we will take your words back to Earth.”
Colin wondered, absently, just how they planned to explain receiving a message from the rebels, as the Thousand Families had vetoed any thought of opening lines of communication. He shrugged a moment later, dismissing the thought. It wasn’t his problem.
“Good,” he said. “We shall be following; we’ll be in the Sol System five weeks from today. I suggest you make it clear to them, very clear, that the harder we have to fight to take control, the less merciful we will be feeling. Do you understand me?”
Gwendolyn bowed her head, submissively. Colin almost pitied her before realising that it was yet another attempt at emotional manipulation. She was very good at it. He hardened his heart, then reached into his jacket pocket and dropped a chip on the table in front of her. She glanced at it, then looked up at him. He read the question in her eyes.
“My proposed peace terms,” Colin said. “I haven’t bothered to exaggerate to allow you to haggle me down to the barely acceptable. Those are my terms. If you refuse to accept them, the Thousand Families will be destroyed.”
“And the Empire might go down with us,” Gwendolyn pointed out.
“We’ll take that chance,” Colin said. He stood. “You’ll be returned to your ship in an hour. Once you are there, head back to Earth at once. If we beat you there, it will be very embarrassing for you.”
It would be, he knew. Quite apart from the failure to ensure that the Families Council had a chance to debate Colin’s terms, it would be strange for a single ship to be beaten by an entire fleet. Colin knew, better than most serving officers, that the more ships there were in a fleet, the slower the average speed. After all, ships could suffer navigational or drive failures, forcing the entire fleet to slow down to ensure they stayed together…
He walked out of the hatch, then headed towards the CIC. Five weeks to Earth, he told himself, five weeks to the final confrontation with the Thousand Families and their loyalists. If the files were accurate, Home Fleet hadn’t been in any better state that the Morrison Fleet… and it hadn’t had a commander as independent as Admiral Wachter. But he knew, better than anyone, just how inaccurate the files could be. It was possible that the Thousand Families had managed to find a competent CO for Home Fleet.
Colin smiled, dismissing the thought. One way or another, he knew, it would all be over soon. And then the real challenge — reforming the Empire — would begin.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Tiberius stood in his office, staring out over the High City.
It looked so safe and tranquil. And it was safe. The aristocrats might contest with one another for power and position, but they would never resort to physical conflict, while the servants were all conditioned into obedience and docility. They would never turn on their masters, no matter what they were offered. It was impossible, even, for a servant to attack an aristocrat at the behest of their master.
But that safety was rapidly becoming illusionary. The news from Morrison had arrived last night and the Thousand Families were quietly digesting it. So far, a full council had not been summoned, which Tiberius had to admit was an ominous sign. Everyone was probably contemplating their fallback positions in the wake of losing Morrison. And Admiral Wachter… the final report had suggested that he’d been killed, but Tiberius had his doubts. Admiral Wachter was unlikely to die so easily.
If he’s in rebel hands, Tiberius thought, he might join them.
Wachter was loyal, but that loyalty had to have been stretched to breaking point when the Blackshirts had turned on him. The contingency plans had been limited; Wachter had been marked for death if he surrendered, or if there was good reason to think he would mutiny against the Empire. But now… if he’d survived, who could blame him for switching sides?
Apart from the Thousand Families, of course, Tiberius thought.
The news hadn’t leaked yet, which was quite remarkable. Somehow, the lid had been kept on, but it wouldn’t last. Losing Morrison meant that the rebels were within a month of Earth… no, it meant that the rebels had been within a month of Earth. If they’d set out as soon as they’d secured Morrison, they could be within hours of Earth by now. There had been no reports of bases obliterated or core systems seized, but that meant nothing. The rebels had to know that taking Earth would give them control… or collapse the Empire into rubble.
There would be panic, he knew, when the news finally leaked out. And the underground, which had been suspiciously quiet, would act. And then…
We might be on the verge of losing, he thought. And in doing so, we might lose everything.
His intercom chimed. “Yes?”
“My Lord, we picked up a message,” Sharon said. “Gwendolyn and Pompey have returned to Sol. They are requesting to speak with you as soon as possible.”
“Have them sent here, then hold my calls,” Tiberius ordered. “Unless the rebels are about to attack, I don’t want to know about it.”
He scowled as he stared down at the city, feeling an odd spurt of envy for the pleasure-seeking aristocrats. He’d been brought up to consider them worthless, overgrown children who would never been suitable to hold authority within their families, yet they had nothing to worry about. Even those who had been junior members of the Roosevelt Family could still enjoy lives of complete luxury. Their family might have collapsed, but they were still taken care of. But that might be about to change.
It was nearly an hour before Sharon showed Gwendolyn and Pompey into his office. Both of them looked tired; Gwendolyn hadn’t even bothered to change into one of her more eye-catching garments. Tiberius smiled in amusement, then waited for Sharon to bring drinks and a small selection of sandwiches. He hadn’t been eating properly lately and she’d started to nag him about it.