Today: The Senate -- Grievances -- Politics by Other Means
"
Laws are like sausages. It is best not to see them being made." – Quote attributed to German Chancellor Otto von Bismarck
"
Dealing with the Senate is like playing a game of chess, on multiple boards, against leeches. No matter how careful you are, one of the damn things will end up trying to suck you dry." – Quote from
The Diaries of Emperor Johann Sebastian O'Reilly, authenticity not verified
C h a p t e r 0 3: Chamber of Whispers
Nova Roma, Alphard
Marian Hegemony
May 2nd, 3009
"It's quite an ambitious program."
Senator Olivia Patel leaned her back against one of the thirteen crimson pillars holding the domed chamber, her face turned towards the nearby window overlooking the plaza far below, bustling with people scurrying from the shadow of one palm tree to the next under Alphard's glaring midday sun. The air shimmered over the pavement, turning the capital's skyline into a hazy fog in stark contrast to her comfortably cool surroundings. Rising more than twenty feet to hold a dome once again as high, the columns were smooth as ice, and veined with gold and silver inlets, their bases and capitals carved in the form of vines with a gild-plated finish. Smooth slabs of the same material covered the chamber's floor, vanishing under a polished round table made from fine wood around which more than a dozen people found place in comfortable chairs with room to spare. In contrast, the high dome above was alabaster white, brightened by the glow of carefully hidden lights, providing the illusion of an open sky, accentuated by a holographic projection that, if need be, could be used to present more mundane images if the people convening there needed it to.
The Marian Senate convened twice a year, usually at the beginning of March and September for one month each to discuss the state of the nation, petition the emperor, embark on legislative initiatives, and act as a forum to voice its members' grievances. Even at the Hegemony's comparably small size the lack of faster than light communications aside from a Type-B complex on Alphard itself made a permanent sitting representation impossible to maintain. To circumvent the issue, Johann Sebastian O'Reilly and the founding families had agreed that each of the senate's relatively loose factions appointed one member, traditionally from Alphard, to represent their interests. Thus reduced to less than a dozen people, they regularly convened in an annex of the Senate's cathedral like dome.
Those that met there called it the small senate, but in common parlance its name was the
Chamber of Whispers. For what the mighty whispered here between blood-red marble columns more often than not would end up being shouted from the ranks of the assembly and fill the headlines of the press soon thereafter.
"I've been given to understand that, per capita, it would represent an unprecedented scale of militarization, right?" The result of a long Indian and southern European lineage, Olivia Patel had long, flowing hair that she kept in a loose braid, accentuating the amethyst-laden tiara she wore. She wore a vibrant orange toga over a deep blue tunic, and a gold bangle on her wrist. Her sparkling deep drawn eyes betrayed the disinterested tone with which she maintained the conversation.
A relative moderate on most issues, Marius knew her closet to be full of skeletons, some of them not just figuratively present. He ought to be able to work with her if he managed to sell his points right.
Technically, he did not need the support of the people that had gathered together with him in this room: he could rule by decree. But
technically, as long years of dealing with the same institution he now once again had to handle, did not always translate to real life. Disagreement could lead to institutional blockades, administrative resistance, patrician funded public opposition if they called upon their patronage. If an emperor antagonized too much of the senate too often, chances rose they would fall victim to some scheming. That much history had proven. Sean also would not have moved against him without at least some backing from senators. That thought left a sour taste in his mouth. Hence his need to at least uphold appearances and clue them in. For now, at least.
"Not per capita, no." Marius leaned back in his high-backed chair – the only such one and the only outward sign representing his position – turning to face Patel. "The Taurians have conscription, as have others, so this would actually still put us very much down on the list. But it is a very steep increase in capabilities, both offensive and defensive, especially seen in relation to our nations comparably small size."
"More like you mean the costs are insanely prohibitive," Marcos Kimura shook his head. Kimura, representing what could reasonably be called the traditionalist block, was a tall, athletic man with dark, almond-shaped eyes and jet-black hair only graying at the temples that he kept trimmed short. His mixed Japanese and south American heritage gave his skin is a warm olive tone, and he had a well-defined jawline and high cheekbones. Sitting on the opposite side of the table and nervously pushing a silver-framed goblet back and forth, he wore a traditional Roman toga in vibrant shades of green and gold, embroidered with intricate traditional Japanese designs. He was also, in Marius personal opinion, a mouth-breathing moron ready to initially oppose anything that did not follow the founding generation's example to a T. "A massive financial boondoggle for little apparent use or need."
"It's your prerogative to view it that way, senator. I suppose it's my lucky day that the expenses fall under the government's discretionary spending then," Marius retorted flatly. The man hadn't batted an eye at the costs of the proposed public school system but only demanded reassurances it would not impede on the patricians' private schools.
"That still doesn't make it a wise decision," the older man growled, and Marius had to count to three in his head to calm himself before he answered.
"The universe isn't standing still. Every report from the Inner Sphere suggests that the great house are well on their way to recovery from the turmoil of the succession wars. What do you think it'll mean for our way of life, for our security, if the Free Worlds League rebuilds enough to garrison the border worlds properly? If they decide to turn the table eventually once they can spare a regiment of mechs or three?" He rose from his seat, both hands firmly planted on the table. "None of you can possibly claim that one mech legion is enough to defend what's soon to be eleven star systems. Even a military layman like yourself ought to understand that much," he shot Kimura a hard glance. "Besides, more legions mean more officer commissions for those pesky second and third children. Gives them something to aspire to, and keeps the line of succession clear."
"God knows I could use that," Senator Malik Al-Amin's chuckle was a low rumble, like a grinding avalanche. A tall, imposing man with a shaved head and bright green eyes, mocha skin, high cheekbones and a broad nose offset by a strong jawline and a neatly trimmed beard, Al-Amin was the head of the Meridian Alliance, a loose cartel of trading houses. Lounging in his seat with a steaming cup of tea standing on table just in front of him he wore a white thobe cut to resemble a tunic and a golden torque set with a single emerald, a symbol of his house's wealth and power.
"Now don't tell you wife's pregnant again!" Kimura rolled his eyes.
"With my sixth child," the trader shrugged. "Getting their commissions probably would do my two oldest good. Besides," his face turned serious again. "The way I see it most of the spending on those new troops will flow back into the Hegemony's economy. That means us, ladies and gentlemen."
"You're not getting taxed one extra denarius for this, Marcos," Olivia Patel's voice held just a tiny edge of annoyance.
"There's that, too. Also, consider this, senator: what little standing forces we've had have been use to harass and raid our neighbors. Now, I do agree with you that, in interstellar politics, might does make right," at least, it usually did, "but appearances do also matter. Everybody – at least everybody who matters – considers us a pirate kingdom. As far as diplomatic leverage goes, it gives us none. A standing army, a true army of several legions, will go a long way to provide the sort of legitimacy we need if we want to survive in the interstellar game of houses," Marius explained, far more patiently than he actually felt.
"Fine!" Kimura threw up his hands in annoyed surrender. "Have it your way for the standing forces. I still think most of it could've found better used, like with that third star system you cut from your plans."
Marius shook his head. "I've gone over this too often to repeat myself again, senator. Horatius and New Venice are without a single jump of our current territory. They are easier to colonize, closer to the Terran standard, and if problems should arise we'd know of them immediately. The distance of ninety plus lightyears alone makes Herculaneum an expense I found easy to cut." He turned his attention to the rest of the room. "Can I expect you to be present at the first launch two weeks from now?"
The question was largely rhetoric in nature. None of them would open themselves to talk and ridicule by missing one of the most important events for the Hegemony in a decade, if not a generation. The Horatius and New Venice star systems had been catalogued and prospected for years already. Unregistered mining outposts and settlements already existed, but with the start of the first jumpship carrying colonists it would become official. Originally, he had waited with his plans until a few years of his reign had passed, but he knew the ins and outs. If anything, his knowledge of events propelled him to start as soon as possible. With everything, really.
"Of course, your majesty," Senator Isabella Osei's bright soprano voice was the first to answer. She was the last remaining current member of the Chamber of Whispers. A petite woman in her early forties, her deep blue eyes were the focal point of her face which otherwise was dominated by full lips and a strong nose that gave her a distinctive look. Her curly, jet-black hair was kept styled in an elegant updo. Her skin had a warm, golden undertone that pleasantly contrasted with the deep purple toga trimmed with gold that she wore, adorned with a brooch that bore the emblem of her house.
"It's a monumental occasion and should be honored accordingly," she eyed her colleagues sharply.
"My family was among the first settlers on Alphard," Senator Kimura opined, "and always supported our founding father's drive to expand the Hegemony. Naturally I will attend, and I think the majority of the Senate will see it the same way."
"Indeed," Malik Al-Amin scratched his chin, "it would be rather unwise not to attend. The funding is secure, and if preliminary reports can be trusted both worlds will be worthwhile additions to the Hegemony. I suppose it's a good thing that much of the shipping used for the last colonies still exists in some form."
Olivia Patel merely nodded in acquiescence.
Marius was glad for it. The people in this room liked the sounds of their own voices too much as it was. He would very much have preferred to revisit the details of the first colonial missions once more in the privacy of his solar, but he knew how to take a victory when it occurred. At least he had been able to slide in clear instructions to protect the Horatian magnalizard from extinction on the last minute. Keeping the towering six-legged herbivores alive would hopefully prove to be a longtime boon for the colony's development.
On to the meat of the discussion. Internally, he steeled himself.
The four senators had begun to talk among themselves about the coming ceremony. Would there be fireworks? Parades? Fly-bys?
He cleared his throat and steepled his fingers.
"We need to address one more issue,
amici. Slavery." His voice had been calm, but the words cut right through their conversation, drawing all attention back to him.
"What about it?" Kimura's tone was already defensive, bordering on angry.
"I take it as my mandate to increase the welfare of this nation and its people, Marcos," he chose to address the man by his first name, leaning forward a bit. "That includes you, your esteemed three colleagues here, and all the other patrician families that have lent you their support. But it also includes the people who constitute the vast majority of our population. The plebs."
He raised one hand to stop Kimura's reply in its tracks.
"Two points, really. One is a suggestion, backed by data collected across our worlds. Empiric data is clear on the fact that productivity and profit margins increase dramatically if pleb workers and machinery replace mass forced labor, and also those positions filled in our households and corporations that fill special niches. My servant Posca has already prepared dossiers and provided your attendants with copies to that effect. I assure you they are quite exhaustive, and I would welcome it if you were to relay them to those on whose behalf you are speaking. Since this concerns your property, the choice remains yours, of course. Still, I believe that enabling our plebeians and cutting the cord on too much of a reliance on imported slave labor will provide us all with significant advantages in the long term."
"
Imported slave labor," Isabella Osei's face twisted in disgust. "What a neat euphemism for people that have been kidnapped at gun point from the embrace of their loved ones by the very pirate scum other nations hunt and hand."
"Here we go again," Kimura groaned and pushed his chair back to grab a glass. A slave servant appeared from between the crimson pillars with a tray of cool drinks to hurriedly satisfy the senator's desires. "We all know your extremist stance on the matter, Isabella. Beating that dead horse isn't going to curry favors with anybody. Your Majesty," he turned to Marius who focused him with green-brown eyes, "our nation's economy has been built on the backs of our slaves since the founding. They are our property and we have every right to use them as we see fit. Limiting their use will only serve to weaken our economy and undermine our property rights. If it is your goal to further the Hegemony's welfare we must consider the economic impact of such measures and ensure that we do not harm our nation's prosperity in the process."
"And I say," Isabella's soprano snapped like a high-toned bell, sharp and piercing, "that his majesty's
suggestions don't go far enough. In fact, I would urge you to consider outright abolition of slavery in the Hegemony. It is time we move towards a more just and egalitarian society!"
"I wonder, my dear, if you would sing the same tune if the majority of your personal wealth was not tied down in real estate rented to plebeians but rather in the kind of actively managed enterprises the rest of us lead?" Olivia's smile with cold and toothless, and her sparkling eyes carried a warning that went right over the other female senator's head.
"What do you mean to insinuate by that?!"
"It means, my dear," Marcos Kimura smiled like a cat presented with a bowl of the sweetest cream, "that ideas, that your morals are cheap if you don't have to sacrifice anything to uphold them. We cannot ignore the practical realities of our nation's security and economic interests. Our slaves have been instrumental in providing the labor necessary for much of our economic success. Abolishing slavery would lead to a decline in productivity and a decrease in the very military capabilities you seek to expand. Furthermore, it would lead to outright turmoil, to
more unemployment and a decline in the standard of living for many of our citizens."
"You heartless-"
"Enough!" Marius' hand slapped the table.
"We are
not here to discuss the abolition of slavery. Senators, I appreciate your concerns. This is a suggestion. I may wear the silver laurels, but it's not my place to tell you how to handle your own property. To do so would be quite un-Marian. I'm merely offering an alternative for those of you who are interested in it. You know my family well enough to understand that I'm not an abolitionist, even though someone standing by their convictions will always have my respect," he tilted his head towards Osei. "Be that as it may, I do believe we can increase productivity and stimulate economic growth not just for us, but also for the very people whose patrons you all claim to be, my esteemed friends. The compact of our nation is between us patricians and the plebeians. It is them who have suffered from the institution of slavery, by robbing them of opportunities to build themselves up by their own hands. If we provide them with better opportunities, we increase their standard of living and reap the benefits of greater social stability."
Pushing an indention on the table a control panel popped up, and he activated the holographic projector. Immediately the rest of the lights in the room dimmed. "There's more,
amici. I won't beat around the bush. If current trends continue the percentage of slave labor on the labor market compared to pleb laborers is set to grow by nought point one to nought point three percent per year. Draw this graph into the future a few decades, and it will at one point become a dire problem for our nation's welfare and inner peace. Tell me, whose taxes are going to finance their welfare and quiescence?" He pointed at the graph flowing in mid-air. "The numbers don't lie. I'm not going to force any of you to take action. This is not the way. But I have already tasked the imperial bureaucracy and the board of Alphard Trading to check which positions currently occupied by slaves can be replaced by plebs, by machines, or be completely cut. I'll lead by example, and I hope your enlightened self interest will let you follow me if you can."
That was not quite the truth. He had made that one up on the spot, but as far as lies went it cam almost too easy to him. Keeping a straight face had never felt easier, especially as he now used it to lead into his next point.
"This was my suggestion. In addition, our foreign policy concerns demand that we take steps to attract foreign investment and specialists. A just and efficient system of labor is key to achieving these goals. Again, my proposal does not have an abolition of slavery as its goal, but merely a... re-contextualization of it to take our wider needs into consideration. Some adjustments will have to be made."
He pointed at the hologram hovering over the middle of the round table.
"No more hereditary slavery. A child born to a slave will be free. And new slaves will be limited to menial tasks."
"No fucking way!" Kimura growled, but Marius went right over him.
"Legal immigrants will be exempt from being subjected to slavery, as will their children! We need foreign technology, foreign capital, and foreign specialists to fill any gap that we cannot close ourselves. None of you actually believe that any of that will happen if, say, a Lyran-born engineer who came here legally, possibly even sponsored by one of our corporations, comes into financial trouble and ends up a slave to pay off his debts? People outside our borders already have the impression that we excel at the worst excesses of the old Terran Romans. There have to be guarantees in place that make it clear to them they won't end up in a loincloth in a quarry being whipped by an overseer," he explained.
"The repercussions on foreign relations, especially if the Hegemony were to build those first, would probably be catastrophic," Patel mused.
"Undoubtedly so!" Osei enthusiastically agreed. "This is not just about economics or security. It's about our image and reputation. We are already facing criticism from other nations for our use of human slaves. If we continue down this path, we risk isolation and condemnation from the rest of the galaxy. You have my support on this, your majesty!"
"Well, I can see your point," Al-Amin weighed in, his voice hesitant. "I dare say none of my business partners from outside the Hegemony's borders are too keen to fall subjects to the hurdles or justice system allows. But wholly exempting one brand of people from slavery, that opens up the slippery slope towards jealousy, and to a two-class justice system. Don't get me wrong, the Meridian Alliance is onboard with attracting foreign capital, whether we're talking about currency or talent. But this is path that ought to be treaded on carefully, lest it undermines the peace you're seeking, your majesty."
"I can't believe what I'm hearing here!" Kimura's dark eyes blazed with anger. "Your Majesty," somehow he managed to fill the title with absolutely no respect, "I understand your concerns for the well-being of our citizens, and I couldn't give a rat's ass about the complaints that
some foreigners,
some day, may
somehow have. But this here
is an intrusion into our property rights! We, all of us here, must consider the basic economic implications of limiting the use of human slaves. Slaves are a perpetually reproducing labor force. Many of our farms, our plantations rely on the labor of these individuals, and any attempt to limit their use will undoubtedly harm the livelihoods and the secure supply of many of our citizens! And what about the privateers? Don't you think they'll be less than amused about regulations on their business?"
"Oh, don't make a mountain out of a molehill, Marcos," Olivia Patel chided him, her long polished nails tapping the table. Marius had realized early on that it was a sign of her head racing with thoughts. "I loathe the government regulating how and what to do with my property as much as the next person. But this here largely concerns property that you don't have yet?! And don't pretend one second you care for the opinions of some pirates. The Crimson Chalice doesn't care what we do with the slaves they put on the markets. There main profits aren't in engineers and builders," she rolled her eyes.
"Nobody's taking away your current property, Senator Kimura," Marius quietly reassured him. "Within the legal framework of the Hegemony you are free to handle your property as you see fit. Keep them, sell them release them. All the same, it is my right within the same framework to suggest changes and limitations to the practice that will only have an impact in the future. I don't see how anything I have put on the agenda today endangers your immediate operations in any shape or form?"
"I'm not trying to beat a dead horse by hoping you all agree to my stance on human rights in the slave question," Isabella Osei looked weary, yet defiant, "but you cannot seriously tell me, Marcos, that you could not possibly adapt your businesses' specialist positions from slaves to plebs or even lower patricians in case those slaves die or get too old? The process alone will take decades; that's a trickle, not a flood."
Kimura stared back at her, unfazed. "It is my property. What you are suggesting is akin to me owning a car, and all of a sudden the state decrees that I can no longer buy repair parts for said car. Worse, you're telling me I can buy the car, but prohibit me from using it the way I see ft. No, I will not have any of it!"
"There's stubborn, and then there's bull-headed," Patel shook her flowing mane. "I am no friend of undue investments, but if push comes to shove I'd rather adapt than struggle against the flow. There are other ways to ensure our prosperity without continuously bloating some parties already impressive stocks of slaves. Maybe we can really achieve better outcomes if we invest in new technologies, improve our infrastructure, and get more productive plebs into the right positions. It's at least worth of being considered and not flat-out rejected."
"Thank you, Senator Patel," Marius nodded gratefully. "For most of this, that's all that I'm asking for."
"And you haven't really thought that through, have ya?" Kimura harrumphed, whatever respect he had now subdued by his bad mood. "Assume your ideas catch on, people dump their slaves, then what?" he gesticulated wildly. "Emancipating a large number of slaves, some of them in the second or even third generation, provides external powers with immense opportunities to compromise our national security via infiltration. Just because we set them free doesn't mean they would immediately love their former masters," he grinned scornfully. "How many would be stuck on our worlds with no means to return to wherever they were initially taken captive from? Now wouldn't that be a ground ripe for unrest and violence."
"Any change carries some dangers with it, senator. But you're doing your position no favors by being a doom monger. Since whether you adapt or remain as you are is voluntary, it is unlikely that mass releases of slaves will coincide. And a trickle can be controlled by existing security. That's why we have it."
Forty years of patience in dealing with this very kind of person did have their advantages. Advantages like 'not risking a civil war by having Marcos Kimura thrown from a window on the twentieth floor'. Patience that, sadly, was seldomly rewarded.
"Change? What you are proposing is not change, it is chaos!" Kimura growled. "I fear that you are risking everything for a vague and uncertain future. We have a duty to protect the interests of our people, not to indulge in empty idealism. Looking good to foreigners doesn't put food on the table. We need to be pragmatic and realistic, not idealistic and naïve. Slavery as practiced now has let our society thrive for decades. It is a fundamental aspect of our way of life and our culture. To abandon it now would be a betrayal of our ancestors and our traditions!" He rose from his chair. "Thus, with all due respect, I must insist that you reconsider this proposal. It is not in the best interest of our people, our culture, or our nation, and it will not have my support! Good day!"
Almost in unison the others also rose, but in protest and to sway the senator.
Marius remaining on his chair, his eyes following Kimura as he made his exit, his face quite as he was fuming. There was no point in appealing to the man's reason. Fifteen years of dealing with the man the first time around had proven just as much.
Osei was on his side. Patel and Al-Amin were open enough to endorse his suggestion, and flexible enough to adapt to his proposal. Which only left Kimura. He could try and decree the changes anyway. And Kimura could try and force the Senate to convene and vote on it. The vote would still not be binding. But Kimura's faction was the largest among the many faceted senators. Failing such a vote would be akin to a vote of no confidence this early in his reign. He leaned back in his seat and watched the double door close behind Kimura's towering form.
Staring at the door he gritted his teeth. This was not over yet.
Camp Sulla
Forty Miles North of Nova Roma, Alphard
Marian Hegemony
May 6th, 3009
Framed by wooded hills on one side and rocky plains to the other, Camp Sulla was a small city in and by itself, filled with warehouses, underground bunkers, hangars made from armored concrete, barracks and control centers. Home to the 1st Marian Legion's first cohort, it was also the Marian Hegemony's Armed Forces prime training grounds.
It had been a while since Marius had last set foot there, but the moment he jumped from the passenger seat of the small transport VTOL and onto the base's tarmac it felt almost like coming home again. He had trained here as a mechwarrior, as was customary for members of the imperial family, and the place felt more welcoming in its drab desolation than the senate chambers did.
A small welcoming committee approached to greet him.
That was something the old him was just too familiar with, but finding himself back in his young, in his earlier life made him realize just how comfortable some parts of being 'just' the heir had been on their own. Greater unrestricted freedom of movement had been one such part. Now, as emperor, his every move had to be preplanned and organized, lest his personal security detail was to collectively die of an aneurysm. At least they had the decency and professionalism to blend into the background most the time.
"Your majesty! You honor use with your visit!" the lead figure called over the dying whine of the aircraft's engines.
If she really was excited to see him, the tone of her voice did a good job of hiding it, Marius thought as she came to attention in front of him, raising her hand in salute.
"The pleasure's mine, General Volkova!" he returned the salute in the same fashion, looking up to her. "At ease, please!"
Alina Volkova was a tall, imposing figure, all muscles without an ounce of fat on her. Decades of a rigorous workout regime had cut off any softness from her body, leaving only sharp features, high cheekbones and a defined jawline worthy of a boxer. Almost seven feet tall, her piercing blue-green eyes probed him with the calculating mind of a seasoned predator. Her hair was cut short and neatly groomed, with the sides of her head shaved to allow for better connectivity with her 'mech's neurohelmet. Decades of field operations and raids had left her skin with a deep tan that was only broken by a red-white scar on her forehead, an old memento from overheating and shrapnel.
"What can the Legion do for you today, your majesty?"
"I'm here to check on family property, and to get some much needed training hours on the parcours done," he explained, adapting the level of his voice to the receding background noise. "I'd like to take my father's mech for a ride," he pointed to the hangars in which he knew his and his ancestors' machines were stored and maintained. "If you've got the time, why don't you join me in your mech? I'm a little rusty, and you know what they say about training with the best."
"In that case I'll be honored to remind you who's the better mechwarrior, sir," the tall officer replied with a toothy grin that failed to reach her eyes. Her voice remained clipped and mirthless. Marius couldn't help but frown, but didn't say anything. "With your permission I'll get myself ready. I believe you know the way. See you on the training course, sir."
He nodded and saw her make her way to the barracks, confused about what was bugging her. Volkova was a hard woman who had played no favorites with him when his father had punted him from his studies into the cockpit of a battlemech. But until now he had believed to have a good rapport with the Marian Hegemony Armed Forces seniormost officer, especially since she had seen to his training personally. Softly shaking his head he made his way to get into gear himself.
The barracks of the 1st Cohort were right next to the imperial hangar, and it was customary that the reigning emperor and their adult children kept their own lockers there, right among the other pilots. Mechwarriors were a peculiar breed, and his arrival did nothing except raise a few eyebrows from those on duty or coming across him in the hallways. A few salutes there, a "Your Majesty" here, maybe a few curious looks as he passed through. But no great fuzz. His training had not been too long ago, and he remembered a few faces as he passed, exchanging nods in recognition.
The locker room that held his gear brought up fond – and painful - memories. The air smelled familiar and welcoming, the odor that strange mix of old sweat, showered bodies, and worn gear that other probably would have found more repugnant than endearing. Having the room for himself, he began to undress and take his vest and helmet from the biolocked locker. That security measure had been the only concession distinguishing himself from the other mechwarriors garrisoned there.
Part of him remembered his little jest with Posca about packing up to lead a life of mercenaries, and he felt bile bubble up in his stomach. Not at the idea, but at the fact that already the obstructions he faced made him reconsider it. Gritting his teeth he slammed the locker shut with almost enough force to put a dent in it.
"Easy now! What's that poor locker ever done to you,
Hawkbeak?"
Marius whipped around and found himself staring at a young man about his age, sun-tanned, dark-haired and gifted with his mother's green-blue eyes.
"
Vulture?!" he cried out in surprise, a broad smile blowing his dour mood away in an instant. "What are you you doing here? I thought they put you on Suetonius, you mouth-breathing, sad excuse for a mech jock!" he chuckled, the two men sharing a quick embrace, patting each other's back.
"Sad excuse? Says the man who took a year to be able to hit the broadside of a barn!" the other man shot back, laughing.
"Hey, what can I say? The targeting computer was screwed seven ways to hell and back. Besides, I did pretty well with the spray-and-pray approach, didn't I?"
Vulture snorted. "Maybe you should have that conversation with the clean-up crews, eh?"
"God no!" Marius held up his hands. "I'm sure there's still some rubble from my first training exercise that they'd be thrilled to bury me under," he sighed. "Man, it's good to see a face that doesn't want to jump my bones for some political favor or another. What are you doing here, Aidan?"
"Got recalled at the start of the year. One day I was on my third raid, the next day I got the orders to report at Camp Sulla. They say my scores are great and my conduct on mission's exemplary, and now they wanna saddle me with commanding the cohort's training
centuria." The other mechwarrior shook his head.
"An early promotion? Why do I get the feeling you're not happy with that?" Marius probed.
"Because even someone as perceptive as a doorknob as you can see the obvious,
Hawkbeak. Two raids is nothing. Now don't get me wrong; running around on a pirate jumpship with
Harbinger's Hellions isn't my idea of a good time, but how many mechs with my deployment history do you know that get called back to Sulla?"
Vulture sounded defeated. "And just when I was getting the kind of experience actually needed."
"You suspect your mom, Aidan?"
"Wouldn't you?" Aidan
Vulture Volkov replied.
"Well, the general's never given me the mother hen vibes," Marius shrugged.
"That's because she not your mother, but mine," Aidan deadpanned. "Anyway, seems pretty obvious she had her hands in this. Not sure how this'll set me with the new recruits. Rumors fly fast, ya know?"
"Well, I met her earlier. Welcomed me on the helipad. She's agreed to meet me on the training course in a few. Maybe I could put in a word on your behalf?"
Marius felt his comrade hesitate. "What is it?"
"Nothing. I'm not sure. You know how she can be, but she's been in a really foul mood for the past week or so. I doubt she'll be holding back fighting you. Watch your back,
Hawkbeak." He sighed again, deflating a bit. "I should be going. Got a simulator appointment, and classes later. Godspeed!"
"Thanks,
Vulture, I'll keep that in mind. See you around!"
He watched the man leave, wondering what was up. A pissed off Alina Volkova was like a bear with a bad mood: nothing a sane person wanted to cross. But then, people led by their emotions made mistakes. Either way, he harbored no illusions about being able to beat a mechwarrior of her caliber. But then, training against better fighters was the only logical way to get better yourself.
Having finished dressing in his cooling vest, he found his way to the imperial hangar. Technicians were buzzing around the machine in the first cubicle like bees.
His father's
Battlemaster was a compact yet towering machine, completely different from the
Marauder Marius had trained on and used so far. A solid humanoid shape with tactile hands, clean forms and a tinted cockpit allowing almost human-like range of movement and visibility, the Battlemaster was spotless, painted in white with a central set of thick diagonal purple lines and golden cuffs painted onto the mech's arms.
The memories of seeing it the first time flooded back into his mind, and combined with the impression he felt right then and there he couldn't help but break into a broad smile and whistle in appreciation.
A technician stopped next to him and smiled.
"She ish a beauty, ishn't she?" the Pompey-born woman exclaimed.
All Marius could do is nod. "That she is. Let's take her for a ride!"
[
…
…
Reactor online…
…
Sensors online…
…
Weapons online…
…
All systems nominal]
Marius drove the
Battlemaster's eighty-five tons across the tarmac and through the base's labyrinth into the training grounds. Moving around in the assault mech was an odd sensation, less wobbly than on the Marauder's chassis. The cockpit was also placed a good deal higher above the ground, granting him superior mobility. It took him a few close calls with nearby structures to get some sort of feeling for the larger mech's inertia, but he felt he had adapted reasonably well once he walked onto Camp Sulla's training course.
The Marian Hegemony's Armed Forces were raiders. 'Pirates in Togas', the Canopians had come to call them in his days. But their small numbers and primary occupation did not mean the legion did not train their people well, and Camp Sulla was testament to this. Over more than four hundred square miles different landscapes and scenarios had been set up to train the legion's recruits on as many scenarios as possible, in as many combinations as were thinkable.
"This is Control.
Hawkbeak, you're advised to switch to channel three."
"Roger that, Control. I'm moving into the course now. Switching weapons to training mode in three, two, one… ready," he replied.
"Understood,
Hawkbeak, we'll be monitoring your progress. The course is yours. Control out."
The Battlemaster picked up speed as Marius drove it down the soft slope of a hill, across a small stream and through a copse of trees. A red marker pinged on his sensors, just for a second, and his radio cackled with Alina Volkova's voice.
"So there you are, your majesty. Brave of you to challenge me on my home turf."
The assault mech crested the ridge of a hill.
"Seemed like the better spot than the streets of Nova Roma,
Thresher," he replied with her callsign, his eyes darting back and forth between his sensors and the view from his cockpit as he tried to gauge her position. Granting him his wish the general's mech appeared briefly on screen. Not long enough to get a fix on it, but apparently the reverse was not true. His missile alert blared, and a salvo of LRMs descended on him in a wide arc.
Pushing his throttle to the max, he ran between the nearby trees, trying to use the vegetation and speed to his advantage. Not all missiles hit him, but still enough of the salvo found their target. Not carrying their actual payload, twelve of the fifteen missiles struck true, his sensor registering the hits as if they were live rounds.
"You can't spoof LRM seekers with a few low trees and an assault mech's speed,
Hawkbeak," Volkova called him out. "Stay on the move. Use the terrain." As if to emphasize her words his sensors registered another missile salvo approaching.
Marius grunted, twisting the mech's torso and sent it into a run back down the slope between a couple of prefab houses and empty sheetmetal halls. Ducking, he made a three-floor building catch a few enemy warheads, and another one got entangled in overland powerlines and sent off course. He didn't stay in place but trained his machine towards the direction he had caught her sensor blip before, driving its full mass to its full speed of 64.8 km/h. A third salvo followed, most hitting him again, but he knew his thick armor could take them.
Volkova's mech appeared again, and this time he also saw it pop up for real. Swinging his right arm towards its position he fired his PPC, sending a blue lightning bolt towards his opponent. Heat inside the cockpit rose immediately, but the modified machine's nineteen heat sinks were quick to dissipate it again.
"No luck this time, mechwarrior," Volkova teased, answering herself with a fourth missile salvo and a shot from her
Thunderbolt's large laser. It grazed Marius' larger Battlemaster's torso on the right side.
With gritted teeth, he steered the mech throw low brushland and car-sized boulders towards his opponent.
Thresher appeared to be making her way to the more built-up sections of the maneuver ground. He fired his PPC once more, hitting a rock face where just a blink of an eye before Volkov's mech had walked. While he missed, her missiles did not, pelting his front and top. The damage wasn't alarming – yet. He either needed a clear shot for his particle cannon, or to close the range to play out the Battlemaster's qualities as a brawler.
"What's going on,
Thresher?
Vulture's told me you're in a foul mood, and you've been nothing but standoffish with me so far."
Volkova's mech drove into the main road of a recreated town, making the decision for it. He fired on her, but hit only the building in front of her. Her being in between the houses slowed her down, though, and he pushed the assault mech forward to close the distance.
"I was always given the impression that my service to the Hegemony was impeccable,
Hawkbeak," her voice came through the speakers as he reached the outskirts of the settlement.
Marius frowned. "If you ever gave someone a reason to doubt that I haven't heard of it,
Thresher." He took a hard left turn, catching a glimpse of her two blocks further down the road. His fingers twitched, and a burst of SRMs and four green beams for medium lasers lunged at the target. Stone and concrete smoldered and warheads crashed into the side of a building. Had they been hot they would have blown that whole floor out. The way it was all he could feel sweat trickle from his forehead. He dove into a parallel street and sped up to take the next turn left, hoping to catch her that way. The buildings flustered his sensors, partially shielding the enemy's heat emissions, scattering its electromagnetic profile.
"Almost," she teased him, the word hissed than spoken. "You'd think that kind of service would see its just rewards eventually, wouldn't you?"
He turned the corner, ready to launch an alpha strike – and found the road empty. Instead, Thresher's mech sprinted from the corner of the block of buildings on the next crossing to the opposite corner, lashing out with lasers and SRMs of her own. They all hit true. Gritting his teeth on impact he punched down his own firing buttons. His particle cannon fizzled out against the storefront, but three of his four medium lasers and at least some of his SRMs struck the general's mech this time.
"Better, but not great," Volkova commented while Marius anxiously watched his heat threshold climb into the darker yellows, ditching his efforts to fight tactical and deciding to go for the jugular instead.
Thesher's Thunderbolt wasn't faster than his mech, but weighing twenty tons less made it more nimble. Ignoring the rising heat he made the assault mech bolt after her.
"Wait, is this about my uncle?!" Once again, the main alley was empty.
"What else would it be about!?" Volkova snapped. "I've spent close to forty years in the force, the past twenty of them honing them into the best mech forces the Hegemony's ever had. If there's one person who deserved that position it should've been me."
Marius slowed down, cycling his sensors and allowing some of the built-up heat dissipate as he slowly walked down the road, his torso turning left to right an back. The designers of the training course had riddled their mock town with plenty of places to hide a vehicle, plenty of side roads to dip into when one had to avoid nosy mechwarriors.
"So you think I snubbed you in favor of an O'Reilly?"
"I never considered you to be someone in favor of nepotism. My son thinks highly of you, too. But if it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck..."
Suddenly bricks and rubble exploded all around him and a cloud of dust descended around Marius' mech. Warning sensors howled in sudden surprise, and he instinctively pushed his throttle down. A SRM raced past his cockpit, and his damage screen showed lasers tearing deep into the back of his right leg as
Thresher's mech emerged from the building she'd used as cover.
"Your father's Battlemaster is a better choice for urban combat than your Marauder. Better visibility. A more balanced weapons load-out. A shame you don't know how to use it yet,
Hawkbeak."
Dust whirled around them as Marius frantically tried to open the range while turning his less damaged side towards his opponent. He caught a glimpse of the smaller mech in the dancing particles and fired all his weapons, the lasers briefly illuminating the heavy Thunderbolt.
"My uncle got the job because he's got the right kind of ideas," he spat back, trying to keep up his concentration on the fight, his surroundings, and the deeper issues at hand here. His battle computer registered another couple of hits, turning even more of his armor screen from yellow to red. "You're running hot,
Thresher."
"I'm used to it,
Hawkbeak. Are you?" As if to prove him wrong she appeared on his nine, her four lasers flashing.
Even at their reduced power he could feel the heat in his cockpit rise dramatically as they hit the nearby SRM6 launcher, disabling it. Dust particles sizzled as the Thunderbolt pushed itself through them to his twelve. "My turn!" he growled, hitting his firing button for another alpha strike, but only his quartet of medium lasers reacted, three hitting the heavy mech square in its chest.
"Ooops, seems like you forgot your minimum range on that PPC?" Volkova lunged her mech forward towards him. From somewhere she'd grabbed a street lamp pole, with a slab of concrete still attached to the base, and swung it like a club in a low arc.
Instinctively Marius tried to steer his larger mech to the left and back. It played right into Volkova's hands. The moment the center of his weight shifted to his mech's left leg the makeshift club connected with the right one. Combined with the prior (simulated) damage the mech's battle computer gave all the servos in that leg a shutdown order. Ordinarily the damage done by the smaller mech would not have been that substantial, but as he was already off balance the myomers gave way, and Marius felt his mech fall.
Eighty-five tons hit the ground, hard, leaving Marius momentarily dazed. When he came to again, the Thunderbolt stood over him, the right arm with its large laser aimed squarely at his cockpit.
Choosing to ignore the danger, Marius couldn't help but chuckle.
"You haven't lost your edge, Thresher. If anything I'd say you gotten more vicious since you've trained me!"
For a few long seconds the two mechs stared at each other. The sounds of battle vanished, and gusts of wind started to carry away the dust, slowly cooling down the machines' hulls. Then the victorious mech lowered its arm, leaving it hanging to its side.
"More like more reckless," Volkova sighed, suddenly sounding more defeated than he did. I can probably squeeze out a few more good years in the saddle, but time stands still for nobody,
Hawkbeak. That mahogany desk in Nova Roma was oh so inviting."
"You'd go nuts if you had to deal with imperial bureaucracy and the suppliers. If you think your paperwork now is too much, it's nothing compared to what my uncle has to handle. That's not your world,
Thresher." He shook his head to clear off the rest of the daze. "There's no person in the whole Hegemony with more active command experience than you. That's why I chose to keep you were you are. Because the Hegemony needs you. Because I need you,
right here."
"Oh, now we're back to flattery, is that it?" for the first time since they had met today there was a hint of amusement in Volkova's voice.
"Well, do you think my great-uncle could do
your job?" Marius answered her question with another question.
"The desk part, maybe. The active command? Meaning no disrespect, but the man's too fat to fit a cockpit, and he's probably never commanded a force larger than a reinforced
centuria," she replied truthfully. "And yet he got the job that he got."
"He's an organizer, a strategic planner. You're the brain that guides those who execute these plans."
"Meaning I'll command the 1st Legion until my retirement, got it,
Hawkbeak," she replied resignedly.
"No Alina, you're not listening to what I'm telling you. It means you'll get a promotion, and rather soon. So you better start grooming reliable officers to take over command of the first legion, because I'll punt you one step up the ladder," annoyance crept into Marius' voice.
"There's no step above me,"
Thresher replied crankily.
"There is
now. You'll be running the day to day operations of the whole army, Alina. Not just
one legion, but the second one, too and all the ones I hope to add in the future. Now help me get back on my goddamn feet,
Praefectus Exercituum Volkova!
Western Palace Grounds, Alphard
Marian Hegemony
May 10th, 3009
"Faster! Keep your defense up!" Posca reprimanded him.
As if to emphasize the older mans words a flurry of punches rained down on Marius, and he struggled to steady his footing. He had decided to take up contact sports as an outlet for his stress and frustrations. Ordinarily, he would just have packed a duffel bag and went climbing some mountain for half a day, but his always vigilant mother hen Posca had objected loud and clear to that. The memories of his fall had done the rest for him. Though currently he was not sure if falling again would not have been the better choice.
He had been back in the Chamber of Whispers.
Kimura had staid true to his word and rejected his efforts to broach the subject again. As a politician the man had the foresight of a rock, but as an obstructionist he had the stamina of a brick wall. Marius cursed him silently, the distraction earning him a painful kick to the thigh as his trainer and sparring partner easily probed his untrained defenses.
Marius gritted his teeth.
"You know, sometimes I wish I could have people crucified for getting on my nerves! Posca, how far would I get if I had the whole senate put to the cross?"
"Depends on the size of the sections,
dominus," his mentor replied without missing a beat. "One for every mile? That gets you to, say, Ravenna. One every hundred meters? Probably right to Nova Roma's central waste processing plant."
"Now wouldn't that be fitting…"
His sparring partner used the distraction to jump right into a grappling stance. While trying to block his arms getting a hold of him, Marius neglected the second axis of attack and soon found his feet kicked from under him. With a hard 'thud' he landed on the sandy ground and immediately found himself in a choke hold. For a second he tried his best to struggle against it, break the hold, but his opponent didn't budge. He tapped out, and the grip vanished almost immediately.
Gasping for breath he pushed himself back onto his elbows. It took him a few seconds gasping for air before he was ready to speak again.
"Enough for today. Lets do this again tomorrow. I've got a feeling I'll need it."
"You feel you'll need to have your royal ass beaten again,
dominus?" Posca raised a questioning eyebrow.
"You're enjoying yourself far too much, Posca," Marius sighed. "No, I'll meet those fools once again tomorrow, and the biggest of them is as stubborn as a mule. Though calling him as smart as a mule would be an insult to mules!" he spat, groaning as he rose to his feet again. "I wonder how often father wanted to rid himself of them. Certainly would've made things easier."
"It would, for a time. It would also makes things rather...
messy." Posca handed him a damp towel and a bowl of water.
"On the flipside, it may just instill the right learning effect. Messy sounds just about right now," he shook his head, pearls of sweat flying everywhere.
"Messy can be quite interesting."
Both of them turned to the bright sound of female voice.
A strikingly beautiful woman walked down the gravel path towards them, a disarming smile on her face. She was tall and statuesque, with long, dark blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, and she moved with a grace and confidence that spoke of a lifetime of privilege.
"I was told I could find you here, your majesty. I hope I'm not interrupting you...?"
The Emperor straightened up, his chest heaving with exertion, and smiled in greeting.
"Lady Kiruma, it is a pleasure to meet you," he said, his tone cordial but guarded. He was wary of what this unexpected visit might signify. "I just finished my training," he nodded towards his instructor who had sat down in the shadow of a palm tree at a respectful distance.
The woman smiled, her lips curving in a sultry, knowing expression. "A shame. I would have loved to watch that," she said, her voice low and seductive. "But please, call me Octavia."
The Emperor's pulse quickened at the woman's words, and he felt a slight flush rising to his cheeks, equally enjoying the sensation and feeling every bit as awkward as a teenager. He was aware of Posca hovering nearby, watching the exchange with a watchful eye, but he couldn't help answer with his own most disarming smile.
"Eh, unless you enjoy watching your husband's opponents get bruised and humbled I suppose the entertainment value would have been rather limited," he chuckled sardonically, gesturing towards his sweat-soaked clothing and bruised limbs. "I'm hardly at my best right now, but I'm always happy to give it some effort for a beautiful visitor, even if it's Marcos Kiruma's wife."
Octavia laughed, a full and throaty sound that made her seem taller than she was. Tiny laughter lines gave her face the mature and grounded look of a woman confident of her appearance and abilities.
"Flattery will get you everywhere," she said, stepping closer to him. "But I'm afraid I haven't come merely to admire your martial skills."
"What a shame," he finished cleaning his face.
"Indeed. It's not everyday you get to see the Emperor when he's all sweaty and disheveled," she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
Marius smirked. "I'm afraid I'm not quite at my best right now, Madame Kiruma. But I'm sure I can still manage to hold a conversation," he said, his voice laced with playful banter. "Would you care for a walk through the gardens? We can discuss the reason for your visit while on the way to my chambers."
The woman raised an eyebrow, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Oh, I'd love to do so. Lead the way."
Walking a winding path framed by intricate flowerbeds and well-trimmed bushes, in the shade of olive and exotic palm trees. Posca followed them at a distance. After a moment, Marius broke the silence.
"Not that I don't enjoy your company over that of your husband, but why are you here today, Octavia? What does Marcos want?"
"Bold of you to assume I'm here to do my husband's bidding," she gently touched his arm, smiling coyly. "What if I've come on my own accord?"
Her touch was smooth as silk and sent shivers down his spine. "Then I'd be ever more interested to listen to you," he motioned her to speak.
"My dear husband is too stubborn to seek you out. He's dug in his position. Talking with you would see him lose face, and he's nothing if not adamant about his honor and image," she explained matter of factly.
"So he sends you to haggle on his behalf?" Despite himself he had to chuckle.
"More like I'm talking with my emperor on behalf of my estate's interest," she shook her head, long blonde hair swaying with the movement. "And my noble husband has little patience for the intricacies of running our estate. He leaves this honor to me," she explained, stroking his arm. "I can't say I like what you have in mind, Marius. But I believe I have a deal in mind that can work for both sides. Marcos will listen to me. If you listen to me. I've been told you're a reasonable man."
Marius smiled, but he didn't let down his guard. "Flattery will get you nowhere, my lady. Why should I budge if I have most groups in the Senate on my side?"
She dropped her smile and looked into his eyes. "Because I believe that a genuine compromise is better than a stubborn stalemate," she explained. "My husband's faction can block your position on this, probably for years on end. But eventually these things will take a life of their own. In my experience, they always do. Like a train carriage running down a hill. So we can step aside. Or we can get run over. But what if we jump onboard to be the one person who regulates its velocity?" she shrugged, her hair falling to the side and revealing her low-cut dress.
"It's better to be the brakes than to have no say at all? A nice analogy, I must admit. Ah, there we are." He stopped at the foot of a low set of steps that led to his chamber's balcony. "I'd love to hear what exactly you've got in mind, but I'm afraid I really have to refresh myself," he gave her a broad smile, then turned his head to Posca.
His personal servant held his tongue but rolled his eyes, silently mouthing
s t u p i d.
Marius climbed the few steps and gave her another smile. He left the door open behind him.
....III. Children born into slavery will be granted the right to primary education on the same level as plebeians, but will still be required to serve their owners after school hours. Slave owner are required to allow slave children who finish their intermediate exams within the upper ten percentile access to the three-year high school level. Succeeding in the Leaving Exam leads to automatic release from captivity. The same is true if the slave child after finishing primary education chooses to enlist into the armed forces for a minimum of seven years. During this time ownership passes from original owner to the state. After finishing basic training they will receive half pay, and full legal emancipation will be granted at the end of their tour of duty. Service guarantees citizenship. The principle of hereditary slavery no longer applies.
IV. First generation legal immigrants are exempt from being subjected to slavery unless being convicted of a capital offense. This covers children being born outside the Hegemony. Children of first generation legal immigrants are exempt from being subjected to slavery until reaching the age of majority.
V. Pregnant slaves will be assigned to low intensity labor or be allowed maternity leave during the last two months pregnancy and the first two months after childbirth. The state will recompense the owners with ten denari per day.
VI. As of 3020 C.E., slaves new to the Hegemony will be limited to fulfill low-skilled menial jobs (housekeeping, farming help, mining). Slaves already owned prior to this point are not subject to the limitations. Preservation of the status quo also prevails in case of a resale of the property. If demand for a certain position exists, plebeian/free applicants have to be hired first. Only if no free citizen can be found to fill the position within a reasonable period of time can the recourse to slave labor be made.
VII. …
– Declaration on the Status of Slaves in the Marian Hegemony, May 21st 3009 C.E., transmitted to ComStar for circulation on June 1st the same year
