Fall of the Terran Empire - Traci Ganner series book 1

FTE - Ch 8

 “I bring news of the war on the Orion front, father,” Prince Eglon stated as he strode up to where the emperor was standing. The elder man had his arms extended upon the ramparts of a parapet of one of the tall castle spires. He was peering vainly off into the distance, over the courtyard many stories below, where various obelisks and statues were arranged, almost with random effect, as if a child had strewn his toys on the ground. For a moment, the emperor ignored his son, acting as if he had not heard him.

Not normally a bashful sort, the prince recognized when his father was in a contemplative mood. He had something he wanted to say, and no amount of impatience would get it out of him before its time.

“Do you see the balanced obelisk, there to the north?” the emperor stated, still not looking at his son. Prince Eglon moved to his father’s side and followed his gaze to the monolith that pierced the sky, easily a half-kilometer in height. “I had it erected over twenty years ago, not long after you were born.”

“Yes, I know the one,” the young prince answered. “I used to steal out to look at the bottom of it, very curious that it was so narrow.”

“Indeed,” said his father, taking one last look at the tall, thin object before turning to look at his son. “Do you know why it balances on a single point, not more than a meter in width?”

“No, father,” the prince said. He used to attempt to guess at these riddles his father so enjoyed posing to him. The old man was amused at watching his son grapple with something he had meant solely for his own amusement. And yet, the answers always surprised him, as they were meant to do. The emperor was rather taken with himself and his own wisdom, which he believed to be stunning. Perhaps he did have some hidden knowledge to share, but he always made an irritating game of it. Sometimes, the prince would rather have him just come out with whatever he wanted to convey, but it was better this way. His father believed himself far superior in all matters--what difference did it make if the son allowed him to continue the illusion?

“Its key is its balance. It has no tethers, no moorings to hold it in its place, only three small blocks of crystal equidistant around its base. It masses over one hundred thousand tons, and is made of a single adamantium crystal, strong yet very brittle. A strong man could place his hands on the stone, and if he were to push hard enough, it would snap off of its base and pulverize half the buildings on the north side of the palace. And yet here, today, it continues to stand, proudly looking over Imperial City. Its balance is the key. If it were to become unbalanced, say if someone removed one of the three crystal blocks at its base, then a strong enough wind or a ground tremor could cause it to fall.”

The emperor stood looking at his son. The prince stared into his eyes until he feared his father’s displeasure and looked away.

“The Imperium is like this obelisk, my son,” the elder said. “There are violent forces that desire to strike at its base and depose me. Fortunately, my spy network keeps me informed of everything going on about me. For each person who is disloyal, there is another wishing to curry my favor for reasons of ambition or survival. Thus, my personal safety remains in balance.”

The prince looked at the obelisk again, staring at its majesty, daring to think that one day it would be his. Perhaps on that day, he himself would go and push the mighty stone over, just to see if he could.

“We did not always have such a mighty starfleet,” the emperor continued, seemingly unaware that his son was not attuned to his sophistication. “As my fathers began to conqueror the various star colonies and kingdoms, we needed a larger fleet to protect convoys and to provide order over so many star systems. As we spread further outward, star systems began to band together to oppose us. The more systems we hold, the more starships we are able to build using the resources of the worlds in our possession.” As he continued his monologue, his use of the term “we” was to describe himself, not his heirs. He looked again at the obelisk and spoke more softly, as though he were conveying secrets someone else might overhear. “The governors and knights of our Empire are mostly squabblers who fight over scraps. The real power comes from the fleet commanders. They are the ones who command our ships of the line, capable of slaying all those who would seek to meet them in battle above the heavens. Take Duke Mihialovich, for example. He is fearless in battle, and could easily defeat a rival fleet if they were evenly matched. It is because of this that I make it a priority to know what drives such a man. He sees himself as my successor, and would not hesitate do anything that would bring him more power and influence on his way to assassinate or supplant me. He would even attack Home Fleet if he thought he had the advantage. Fortunately, the Knight Marshal commands Home Fleet. He doesn’t care who is on the throne; his allegiance is to the stability of the Empire and the protection of its citizens.”

The emperor allowed himself a small chuckle. Obviously, the prince was expected to laugh also, as if he understood where the raving man was going with this drivel.

“But Admiral Pearson is the true counter balance. He does not seek the throne and never will. It is enough for him to be a loyal supporter of the crown and fight the battles to extend the Empire. He is both a brilliant military strategist and a man of principle. It is for this reason that I would never send him to do the tasks I leave to Mihialovich. He has no stomach for the dirty jobs. It is also important that I make sure Pearson and Elbazi always outrank Mihialovich; I do not want to risk having the duke issue an order that could potentially take Pearson out of the equation.”

The emperor smiled as he stared out over the rampart. The prince watched him from the corner of his eye. Someday, he himself would be the emperor. When that day came, he would not waste his time in long speeches with his heirs. Let them find their own way. He would ride out with his starfleet and conquer in the style of old, leading his troops in their battles for glory and honor. He would not sit in the palace and give orders to admirals from afar.

The emperor seemed to shake himself out of his reverie. “Enough talk, my son,” he said, looking at his son as if seeming to notice him for the first time. “I want you and Lord Guba to take Second Fleet and visit our heart worlds. I want to ensure that our food supplies are going to be adequate for the needs of our governed worlds. A visit from the crown will ensure that they do not forget to send their very best to us here, on old Earth.”

“Father, this is a servant’s errand, a milk run,” the prince said testily. “Send me to the far reaches to fight in the battles of dynasty. Please, let me go to the Orion cluster to show Admiral Pearson how to conquer our foes. I have not failed to notice that he wins battles slowly and with losses that must be replenished from my own fleet! I can win them easily with both his fleet and mine.”

“No, my son,” the emperor chided. “You will do as I command. Someday, when you have gained more wisdom, you too will understand the need to maintain the presence of the crown in our heart worlds. Go, enjoy the tributes and feasts they will offer. Accept them with good grace. Let them believe they are part of a glorious empire, so they will remain loyal to us and not become troublesome.”

His father turned and began to inspect a song-tree nearby. Seeing that the conversation had concluded, the prince turned to take his leave. Someday soon, the prince thought. Someday soon, you will be under my heel, and then we will see who gives orders to whom.