27 Pillow Talk #4
“No, what’s not fair is the Noble Federation’s gains from this war. They did the bare minimum and gain everything, while those nations which suffered most must lose everything,” I shouted.
“That’s how the galaxy works,” Astrid said, trying for a conciliatory tone. “The Noble Federation has more to negotiate with than you, so they receive more. The strong do what they will, and the weak suffer what they must.”
“So you think the Commonwealth is weak?” I demanded.
“It is because you are strong that you survived so long, but Bridgette is right. Your military is broken. You could not resist me if you wanted to.” She reached for me, trying to soften the news.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be taken care of. You’re my Consort.
Even if the Royal Commonwealth completely dissolves, I won’t let anything happen to you. ”
“I don’t WANT the Commonwealth to dissolve,” I screamed, slapping her hand away. “I want it to thrive, not be consumed by greedy, self-centered Federation exceptionalism or destroyed by violent might-makes-right Imperial brutality.”
Astrid quietly said, “I thought you loved me.”
I softened, pausing in the act of buckling my girdle. “I do love you, but I also want your Empire to lose this war.”
“I am the Empire. In saying that, you say you want me to lose.”
I shook my head. “I do not. You may be Emperor now, but I can’t help but see you as my Astrid whom I lost twelve years ago.”
“Do you think I don’t want to be?” Astrid hissed.
“Do you think I enjoy hurting you? Because I don’t.
I hate it, I fucking hate it!” Astrid lashed out, striking the full-length standing mirror in which Lady d’Lyre had so recently admired herself.
It flew into the wall and smashed into a thousand glittering shards.
Her rage spent, Astrid turned and sat on the bed, lowering her head into her hands.
“I hate this. I hate being Emperor. I hate the games, the fights, the assassinations. I want to go back to being a nobody, to live in a foreign land, and learn things that are forbidden in the Voidskies and spend my life pleasantly doing nothing of consequence with the human I love, but I can’t.
I have responsibilities now. I can change things for the better. ”
“By giving the quadrant to the Federation? Not bloody likely. They rule purely through wealth. The poor have nothing, no rights, no say in their lives. But I guess that makes sense to an Imperial, who knows nothing but the rule of might,” I snarled.
“I’d have thought you, of all people, might think that’s a bad idea. I guess you’ve changed.”
“And your Commonwealth is so much better?” Astrid asked.
“It is.”
“I’m surprised you think so, after how poorly they’ve treated you.
I’ve read your combat record. Ten years hard service at the front, and still a supply corps lieutenant until a few weeks ago?
Their failure to promote you out of supply and into command shows a clear failure to recognize or reward talent. ”
“You speak as if your Empire is any better. Your nobles kill each other with remarkable frequency. Your only recourse against inequity is assassination. Our system isn’t perfect, but it’s the best I’ve seen, and far more meritocratic than yours.
Our nobles govern the people, the people support the Queen, and the Queen monitors the nobles.
We give nobles the authority due to shielded persons, while burdening them with enough responsibility and oversight to stop them riding roughshod over the unshielded populace.
It’s a circle of accountability, and it’s worked moderately well for four centuries.
” I shook my head. “You’d have to completely restructure your Empire before it could give the Rim anything approaching prosperity. ”
“That is my goal. Replace the rule of the strongest with a pure meritocracy. If I surround the throne with the best people of every transhuman species and class, then I could build a better future for all across the Rim. It’s a dim, unlikely dream, but I must try.
” Astrid sighed. “What sort of monster would I be if I didn’t try to make the galaxy a better place? ”
“Being a monster is a matter of perspective. You’re already a monster to the Alliance,” I said.
“Am I a monster to you?”
The question spun at me with edges on, and I found I didn’t know my own answer.
“I must go. The Commonwealth needs me.” I buckled on my weapons belt.
“Please don’t go. I need you here with me,” Astrid pleaded.
“It certainly doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing, down here beneath you.” I stalked towards the door, which remained closed. I glared up at the guard who stood beside it.
“Open the fucking door!” I ordered.
The demon snapped to, opening the door with a speed born of fear. I don’t know how I’d inspired such fear, but it felt good to make somebody else suffer.
I did not look at the Emperor as I left. I couldn’t stand to see her face, and I had duties to attend to. I couldn’t be overcome by the distress I knew would be in her eyes.