“Sir Giles has brought his resignation,” the king said.
“I see.” Dougal stared into the crackling fire. Without Sir Giles the coalition supporting the government would collapse. The coalition was needed.
Or was it? Could the king rule without a government? Malcolm dismissed the thought sadly. The secret police were efficient, but they would be unable to hold on against an enraged populace. The rights of Parliament had been easily won from King David’s father, but won easily or not they would not be lightly surrendered.
And government by terror would never produce what Prince Samual’s World needed.
Would anything?
Malcolm quickly reached a decision. “I’m going to tell you a story, Sir Giles. After you’ve heard it, you will never be far from one of my men. If you ever betray us—”
“Spare me your threats.”
“They are not threats. I hoped to persuade you not to ask to hear.”
Sir Giles sat quietly for a moment. “I almost believe you have a good reason for what you’re doing—”
“I do.”
“But I will not give up the Constitution for an unknown reason. Tell your story. But I promise you only that I will keep your secret. I do not promise to help in whatever-”
“You’ll help once you know,” Dougal said. “My only problem is knowing where to begin.” He stared into the fire. “In King John’s time Haven became the largest single state on Samual. He consolidated a number of petty princedoms and city-states, and it looked for a while as if the old dreams of a single government on this planet would be realized. But the next step was Orleans, and the Orleanists wouldn’t join. The wars went on. Eventually we developed new industries, and unification looked possible again. Except that everything was wasted on wars. Every effort at conquest of the Orleans Republic failed.”
“We nearly had them beaten,” King David mused. “One more campaign—”
“Almost,” Sir Giles said. “Until that damned Colonel MacKinnie of theirs beat us at Blanthern Pass. Iron Man MacKinnie — my lord, I am familiar with our history. What has this to do with the budget? Orleans is our duchy now—”
“It is our duchy because the Imperials came and their Marines helped us defeat Orleans,” King David said quietly.
Malcolm nodded. “Precisely. The Imperials allied with
Haven, and they are helping us establish a unified government on Samual. There’s nothing on the planet that can stand up to their weapons.” He laughed bitterly. “So after ten generations of dreaming about it, we’re getting unification handed to us.”
“But we’re getting it,” Sir Giles said. “More slowly than I like.”
“It goes slowly and it costs money,” Dougal said. “Both for a reason.”
“Yes.” The young king’s voice was hard. “Our goal is to unify the planet, not enslave it. The Imperials will do that soon enough.”
“Sire?” Sir Giles carefully set his glass on the table. “The Imperials are Haven’s ally. How can they enslave us? They’ve fewer than fifty people on the planet.”
“Allies.” Dougal was contemptuous. “Everyone assumed they would be allies, Sir Giles. And they did help us with Orleans. But my agents have found out why they did. They intend to use us to unify the planet, then bring in colonists from other worlds. Traders. Petty bureaucrats who want to be aristocrats and who’ll become our nobility. We will have damned little say in that government.”
The Prime Minister was silent for a long moment. The only sounds came from the forest, and from the popping of the logs in the fireplace. “I would not have thought it of them,” he said finally. “The Navy officers do not act like conquerors. They do not seem such villains.”
“They’re more dangerous than villains.” Dougal spoke rapidly now. “They’re fanatics. The Imperial Navy intends to unify the human race so it can never again fight an interstellar war. If they have to kill off half of mankind to justify Lysander’s title as ‘Emperor of Humanity’ they’ll do it.”
“Just as we were willing to unify Samual by conquest,” David said.
“I see that well enough,” Dougal said. “I know what motivates them. The same goal motivates me. If I’d been an Orlean citizen I hope I’d have had sense enough to see that unification was necessary, and worked to gain some status in the union. Which is what we must do for Samual within the Empire.” The policeman’s voice rose in angry tension. “And by God we’ll outwit them yet!”
Sir Giles leaned forward. “What — what are you doing? We can’t fight the Empire—”
“No. The best we have couldn’t win a single battle,” Dougal said. “But despite that, we can be our own masters yet. They have laws, Sir Giles. They have a Constitution. We can exploit that. One of their rules is that worlds that have space travel enjoy a far higher status than those that don’t. Worlds with space travel control their own domestic affairs, and have representation in the Imperial Parliament—”
“Space travel? But that’s impossible,” Sir Giles protested. His eyes widened in sudden comprehension. “You are using the secret funds to build spaceships? How? We know nothing of spaceships—”
“That is the real secret,” Dougal said carefully. “And I would very much rather it remained a secret even from you. It will be the strangest secret you will ever hear, and even a hint — a hint — to the Imperial Navy would destroy all our hopes.”
“I see.” Sir Giles sat again and rested his chin on both hands. The veins on their backs showed darkly against his neat white beard. He turned to the king. “I suppose, Sire, that this hideously expensive expedition to Makassar has something to do with this? That you expect those men to spy out the secrets of spaceships from traveling in them, and bring that knowledge back to us?”
A good cover story, Dougal thought. “Yes.”
“It can’t work,” Sir Giles said. “Sire, my lord, you have not a technical background. I am many years away from my training as an engineer, but I can tell you this: there is not a factory on Prince Samual’s World that could build such a thing even were the Imperials to give us free run of their ships. We haven’t the basic tools, we don’t even know what the problems are. This scheme is madness!”
“There is more,” King David said. “We have hopes for more. We have hopes that our expedition to Makassar will return the most priceless cargo ever to come to Prince Samual’s World. A cargo of freedom.”
“How?”
“Our secret is fragile,” Dougal said. “Worse, the Imperials themselves know Makassar’s secret—”
“This talk of secrets,” Sir Giles said. “You don’t understand at all. Your expedition is no secret. The Navy knows your men went there. As to their orders to spy out the ‘secrets’ of the Navy ships, were you to tell the commandant he would be no more than amused. My lord, you do not appreciate the difficulties involved! It will be a hundred years before we are able to build spacecraft—”
“Perhaps,” Dougal said. “And perhaps not.” There was an ominous silence as Dougal coldly studied the Prime Minister’s face. “You are determined to have it all, aren’t you? You leave me few choices. Either I must tell you the rest or have you killed.”
“Lord Dougal, I forbid it!” The king’s voice was sharp and loud. “I have deliberately turned away from learning of many of the things your police have done in my name, but by Christ you will not sit here and threaten my Prime Minister!”
Dougal spread his hands. “I said I had two choices, Sire.” And another behind that, he thought. My men are outside, and the king has few guardsmen here …