“But that would make them slaves!” Archier protested.
“Slave, slave! It’s only a word. This attitude of yours is exactly what’s been wrong with our political position up until now. These measures are necessary, but 1 grant it takes a certain amount of determination to apply them. That is what humans appear to lack.”
“But there’s a reason why animals were made second-class citizens,” Archier objected earnestly. “Animals don’t have creative minds!”
“I acknowledge that,” Hiroshamak said instantly, “but it doesn’t matter a damn! Governing an Empire doesn’t call for creativity—it was a misconception ever to think that it does. Shrewdness, cunning and self-confidence are what’s needed. We pigs have proved ourselves there.”
“Society needs creativity,” Archier insisted. “It’s what keeps it evolving.”
“Of course. Who doubts it? And that’s exactly the role we see humans filling in the new dispensation. Creative thought—art, science, the things they are good at. And we’ll take care of practical affairs.”
Admiral Brusspert interrupted him enthusiastically. Only now did Archier spot the feminine difference in her voice tone. It never was very noticeable in porcines. “Absolutely right, Council Member,” she said. “Pigs make the right decisions! The weasels, for instance—tell him about that!”
“Weasels?” Archier enquired.
“Guard!” Hiroshamak snapped in answer. “Get in here sharpish!”
Into the room, walking on its hind legs, came a five-foot stoat in military accoutrement. The scangun at its waist was adapted to fit its paw. Its backpack, breathing kit and communicator made it look even more predatory.
“He’s had his inhibitor removed,” Hiroshamak said.
Now Archier was not merely shocked. He was aghast. Of all the mammals in the commonalty, there was one family that was never used in war: the weasel family, including stoats, polecats, wolverines and fishers. Tigers and bears were as nothing to the mad ferocity of these creatures. They were the most gifted murder machines nature had devised, restricted only by their size—wolverines and fishers, in fact, would unhesitatingly attack and kill anything they came across, no matter how large. That was why intelligent weasels were given additional implants to repress their savage urges, and why wolverines and fishers were very rarely made intelligent at all.
“You are seeing the backbone of the future Drop Commando,” Hiroshamak informed Archier. “Tell him how you feel without the inhibitor, guard.”
Archier could almost see the stoat smile. “Much better, sir. Much sharper. And more ready to serve the Empire, sir, of course.”
“All right, guard. That will do. Wait outside.”
“The old Council never need bodyguards,” Archier remarked when the predator had gone.
“Oh, I don’t suppose we will when things have settled down.”
“There’s something I must ask you,” Archier swallowed. “Are you Biotists? You must be, since you want to dethrone man from his superior position—”
“No, no, we are not Biotists.” Hiroshamak and Brusspert both shook their heads emphatically. “It was partly to stop the Biotists taking over that we acted as we did! Like them, we assert that the Empire belongs to all mammals, not merely to humans. But we shall never recommence gene mixing. The species should stay separate. It’s the best way of standardising intelligence.” Hiroshamak’s eyes twinkled. “Besides, we like being pigs!”
“What happened to Admiral Tirexier?” Archier asked suddenly, with a bite in his voice.
“Ah yes. You force me to a delicate matter,” Hiroshamak replied after a pause. “A new High Command is being organised. The new command structure is to consist entirely of pigs, and affects all ranks from admiral up. That means, Admiral Archier, that you are being retired from active service as an admiral. You will retain the rank of Admiral retired, of course, and you will continue to serve in the fleet in a lower acting capacity. Your Fire Command Officer Gruwert is being promoted in your place. You have always commended his initiative.”
A squeal of delight sounded behind Archier. It came from Gruwert, who together with others of the Command Staff had been standing silently listening to the exchange.
“Yes, I have,” whispered Archier. “Indeed I have.”
Carefully he removed his admiral’s ceremonial hat, with its bell-shaped crown, its glittering feathers, and placed it on his desk.
My fleet, he thought agonisedly. My beautiful Ten-Fleet.
But of course it was not his fleet, and never had been. It was the Empire’s, and now the Empire belonged to the pigs.
Gruwert came trotting forward, snuffing the air. “No hard feelings, Archier old chap? It’s all for the best, you know. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like you to get out of my office. It’s time to start doing things properly!”
13
At last Admiral Gruwert felt he had a proper outlet for his energies. He was enjoying his new role immensely.
Lifting his snout from the trough of choice delicacies he had installed in his office, he returned his attention to his duties.
The fleet was very nearly restored to operational status and was heading at top speed for Axaline Sector, the region it had been forced to quit when summoned to Escoria. Imperial Council Member Hiroshamak had given Gruwert explicit orders: there were signs that Axaline felt encouraged by recent events, not to revolt exactly, but to mount a campaign of stubborn civil disobedience, and the sector was to be discouraged by peremptory means.
The Axalines would find their error of judgement a most costly one. Gruwert recalled the planet Rostia. They would get no reprieve this time, he promised himself with satisfaction. It would be knuckle under at once or—
A voice interrupted his scanning of the weapons readiness reports. It was the new pig brigadier he had put in charge of the Drop Commando.
“Admiral, something odd is happening. One or two rebel pirates have been turning up. I thought they had all been dealt with.”
“Eh?” Gruwert thought quickly. “What have you done with them?”
“Scanned them away, naturally.”
Gruwert muttered under his breath. He was annoyed, while at the same time pleased that the Commandos were as keen as ever. They were armed permanently now, and stationed as a guard force throughout every ship of the fleet. It had not been lost on Gruwert that there might be internal dissension to deal with—indeed, he would not feel entirely safe until he received postings of some of the newly trained weasels whose loyalty was guaranteed.
“Don’t scan them,” he ordered. “If you find any more, take them alive. They’re probably the ones who started disappearing shortly after we were boarded. Remember? Those funny lines in the air? It was the space rent doing it.” He reflected again. “Some of our own people vanished too… leave that in my hands.”
“Yes sir.”
Gruwert cursed briefly as the Brigadier broke contact. Why did the Drop Commando have to bring him this news? It should have been picked up by Archier, the new Ship Management Officer! At any rate, he would need Archier to survey the ship’s population and see if any vanished personnel had reappeared.