Statesman (29 page)

I had won my point; the feedback reaction showed that. The people of Jupiter were with me, and, perceiving that, the officers of the Jupiter Navy were stepping down and stepping up according to my listing. My bloodless coup was proceeding. I had been out of power here for five years, but I had been in power for ten years before that, and active elsewhere in the System in the interim, so the people knew me. They knew what kind of government I stood for, and it was clear that it was superior to what they had now. They also knew they could trust me to tell them the truth, and the truth I was telling them was the Dream. The victory was not yet complete, but it was clearly going to be mine. Rue had done what was needed when she told me to seize the initiative despite Khukov's death.

But Tocsin would not yield gracefully, if at all. He knew the people did not support him, and that the Jupiter Navy was no longer his instrument. But he had a ploy yet to make. “Tyrant, you know that the balance of terror is not in the conventional planetary navies, but in the fleets of subs,” he said. “Jupiter subs surround Saturn, and Saturn subs surround Jupiter. Either fleet can destroy either planet. The Jupiter subs answer only to me—and the Saturn subs do not answer to you. I can destroy Saturn, and you cannot prevent it.”

“Saturn subs,” I said into the holo. "I know you are receiving me but will not answer. The man you answer to is dead, assassinated by parties as yet unknown. But I swear to you that I, as the representative of the Dream that Chairman Khukov made, will in due course root out the assassins and destroy them. To do this I must govern Saturn for a time, and this I will do, until a successor can be named who is guiltless in the assassination. Support me, and I will do this. The blood of the guilty will course through the streets of your cities. No other person can make this promise and keep it; you know that the nomenklatura are even now scrambling for new power, and if they did not engineer this crime, they surely support it. The same is true of President Tocsin here. In any event, you have heard him threaten to strike directly at Saturn. Accept my authority, and accept my order now: If any signal travels from the White Bubble toward Saturn, destroy the White Bubble instantly.

I returned to Tocsin, whose face was turning ashen as he assimilated this news. He knew that at least one of the hidden Saturn subs would accept my directive, because it made sense: destroy the man who ordered the destruction of their home planet. He could send the order, and they could not prevent it, but he would be dead an hour before the order reached the vicinity of Saturn. That was not the way Tocsin liked to operate.

Now I spoke to Saturn, knowing there could be no response within hours, but knowing what that response would be. “People of Saturn, I, Hope Hubris, the Tyrant, am assuming the office vacated by my friend Khukov, who is dead. My purpose is to stabilize the government of North Saturn and bring the assassins to justice. The fleets of Jupiter and Saturn support me, and I am preventing the Jupiter subs from attacking the planet. In the interim I appoint Khukov's most trusted deputy to maintain the present government on a standby basis, until my return to Saturn.” I named the deputy; he was a competent and loyal man who did not aspire to power for himself.

My power over these planets was being constructed largely on bluff and imagination, but it seemed to be working. In this moment of crisis, they had no better figure to turn to. It was the special magic I had with any audience. They knew they could trust me to do as I promised, and I promised justice and the Dream.

It was an easy compromise to make.

But Tocsin was not yet finished. Indeed, he seemed to have recovered his bravado. “I have a little ace in the hole here, Hubris,” he said nastily. “You don't dare order this dome destroyed.” Technically, it would be the Saturn subs that destroyed it, needing no further order from me, but they would not act unless he did. If he did not send the order to Saturn, only my direct action could put him away. “Bring out the prisoner,” he called, turning his head to the side.

In a moment a woman was brought forward. I sagged with dismay: it was my daughter Hopie! She was now a woman of thirty, pretty enough, with her dark hair flowing about her face. I had adopted her as a baby, and she favored me in a number of physical and mental ways. She had always been the delight of my later life. Tocsin evidently believed that this hostage would protect him.

Unfortunately, he was right. I simply could not knowingly order the destruction of my daughter, though the fate of worlds hung on it. Hopie was the closest thing I knew to posterity, and that carried increasing weight as the end of my own life span approached. Apart from that, I loved her. Tocsin had, with his unscrupulous cunning, fixed on the one thing that would balk me completely.

“Don't do it, Daddy,” Hopie said. “Don't let him have his way. I can die if I have to.”

But I couldn't order it. Tocsin, gloating to the side, knew it. “Now back off, Tyrant,” he said. “I won't give the order to destroy Saturn; I don't have to. I just need to put you under arrest.”

How could I deal with this? Tocsin would never yield his hold on Hopie; he would squeeze her for all she was worth. I knew this, yet I could not let her be harmed. It was ridiculous to be caught by this elementary ploy, but I was. I remembered Hopie as a baby in my arms, and as a child sharing visions with me, and as a teenager trying to manage the Department of Education. I remembered her blazing anger when I took as mistress a girl who was younger than she. She was my daughter, in every sense that counted, and I could not sacrifice her.

“You don't respond, Tyrant?” Tocsin inquired. “Then I will encourage you. I will have your agreement, now, to surrender yourself for arrest, or I will have this woman dispatched before your eyes. Guard!”

And at that a female guard stepped up, carrying a laser pistol. There were of course other guards in the White Bubble, who could fire at anyone anytime, but this was being presented for effect. Slowly the woman raised her pistol, until it pointed at Hopie's head.

And I think I would have wet my pants, had I had any urine in me. I did not, of course; that was why I required dialysis. My shock was not from the direct threat to Hopie; it was because that guard was familiar.

“Go ahead, shoot me,” Hopie said, though she was shaking with reaction; her bravado was evident for what it was. “Then you'll have no hostage, and you'll be finished.” Which was true, but not the whole truth; I could not let her be shot at all.

But I would not need to. Suddenly I knew why this elaborate hoax on me had been perpetrated: the substitution of Roulette for Forta. I had thought it was at Rue's behest, because she wanted to make love to me once more. Certainly that much was true, but Spirit had had other reasons to do it. She had known that my face-off with Tocsin could come to this, so she had, in her meticulous way, prepared for it. She had fashioned what in chess was known as a discovered check.

“Your time's up, Tyrant,” Tocsin said. “Make your commitment now, or I will give the order.”

“Give your order, hemorrhoid,” I said.

It took those six seconds for his double take to manifest, but it was worth it. Tocsin could not believe that I had said what I had said. But I had.

Meanwhile, I was already speaking again. “And that order will be your last, because that laser is not pointed at my daughter, but at you. I doubt that you can order your other security guards to take out either my daughter or my secretary before you die.”

Tocsin actually gaped when this news reached him. “Your what?”

Now the guard put her free hand to her face and drew off her mask, her laser never wavering from its target, which was Tocsin. The scarred features of Forta Foundling came into view, never more beautiful than at this instant. Only she, with her superlative powers of emulation, could have infiltrated this bastion, but she had done it.

I was of course to receive credit for a strategy bordering on genius, because of this ploy. But I had not known it was in the making. My women tend to do that to me; it is a type of conspiracy that seems inherent in their nature. I don't suppose I have cause to object.

Tocsin stared at her. Now he knew he had lost. He was not the suicidal type; he always made the best deal he could, in whatever circumstances existed. “Exile,” he said.

So he would back down, in exchange for exile, which meant no trial, no direct punishment. He didn't deserve it—but if his guards obeyed him, he could still exchange his life for that of Forta and Hopie. Two for one. It wasn't worth it to me. “Granted,” I said.

“We await your ship,” Tocsin said simply. He knew I would keep my word, however much it galled me.

He had lost the planet but preserved his freedom. I would arrange for him to be sent to the planet of his choice, and that would be that. Meanwhile, I would soon be reunited with my secretary and my daughter.

That seemed as important to me, at this moment, as the conquest of worlds.

It was hours, but it seemed like a moment, and Forta and Spirit and Hopie were with me. I hugged each in turn, then reverted to immediacies. “Why didn't you tell me about Roulette?” I demanded.

“You were asleep,” Spirit said simply.

I looked at Rue. “They thought you would tell me,” I accused her.

“Well, I meant to,” she confessed. “But then I thought it would be more fun the other way.”

Forta raised a scarred brow. “He thought you were me?”

“For a time,” Rue agreed.

“But the figure—”

“She connived,” I said.

Hopie caught on. “Forta emulates your former wives?”

“Something like that,” I admitted, embarrassed.

“Only the crisis came before I could return,” Spirit said. “And evidently as a surprise to you.”

Because of Rue's bare bosom. “I didn't want anyone disconnecting early,” Rue said.

“Nobody on the planet disconnected!” Spirit agreed. Then she got on to business. “I'll have to remain here and organize for the production of self-receiver units; only Jupiter can do the job in time to match the production already in progress elsewhere.” She turned to me. “You'll have to go get Saturn settled.”

“There shouldn't be any problem,” I said. “They know I'm doing what's right.”

“That was an act of genius, taking over Saturn too,” my daughter said. “Now there can't be war between the major planets.”

I glanced at Rue. “Well, actually it wasn't—”

“Of course it was,” Rue said quickly. “It showed that the Tyrant is still the leader he used to be.”

So she wanted me to take credit for her idea. Well, maybe that was best, politically. But I couldn't help wondering whether I would have done it if Forta had been with me instead of Roulette. This impersonation could have benefited me far more than just romantically. Rue had worked me over, her way, but she had paid her way.

“I'll join you when I can,” Spirit said.

She did. The consolidation of Jupiter and North Saturn took about a year, and the production of the self-receiving units another two years. I went to Saturn with Forta, but first we dropped Doppie off at Earth. Freed from her need to impersonate my sister, Doppie became herself, and then she really didn't resemble Spirit much; her hair, clothing, and attitude differed. Before we parted, I took her out for a social evening on Earth, and made it publicly clear that it was the Tyrant who was escorting her. Actually it wasn't sex she wanted, just appreciation, so I kissed her and let it be understood that she was my woman of the moment, providing her a notoriety that would carry through the rest of her life. I felt I owed it to her, and it really was no chore. I was grateful to her for the service she had done us, and I respected her as a person, and that really was enough. Partial as I have always been to youth and beauty in women, I nevertheless respect personality more. Doppie understood that, and was satisfied.

We ran down the assassination plot. As suspected, it was a collaboration between Tocsin and the nomenklatura of Saturn. Tocsin we could not touch; he was in South Saturn, where they still respected him. But the nomenklatura we routed out and tried and executed. It was the justice of the Tyrant, reminiscent of the destruction of Big Iron on Jupiter some years before, and the people of the USR

reveled in it. There were indeed hangings and beheadings, done not because of any madness of mine but because it was politically necessary for the Tyrant to keep his word, and to make an example. I suspect the judgment of historians will not be kind to me on this score, but historians do not face the realities of the moment, when blood is a sacrifice required for legitimacy. I, as Tyrant, assumed responsibility for the savage justice the people required.

But there was some vengeance in it, because Khukov had played straight with me, and had given me power and the Dream. I had really done what he would have done, had he been in charge.

I had thought to turn over the reins to native officials, but discovered again that power can be as difficult to yield as to achieve. I was of course a figurehead, freely delegating the governing duties to those who were competent and trustworthy, but it seemed that they valued that figurehead. I was the symbol about which the governments supporting the Triton Project rallied, and as long as I did not interfere unduly with the details of administration, that was the way they liked it. The people supported me, and assumed that executive orders were mine; that made them more palatable. Since I had arranged to have top-quality personnel throughout, the administration tended to be excellent.

It was similar elsewhere in the System. Thus, while my actual power was nominal, my reputed power was greater than ever before. I was hailed as the Tyrant of Space, governing the entire System. Illusion, of course, but if that's the way the histories choose to record it, I suppose I won't be in a position to object.

In this period, conscious of the slow approach of my own demise, I wrote this record of my activities, and sent it to QYV of Jupiter. I will of course be updating these notes as convenient, keeping them current, as I cannot be certain when the final entry will come. My daughter will inherit all my records at my death, though she does not, at this writing, know it. I trust they will prove to be interesting reading.

Hopie does not necessarily approve of all my activities, but she is of my blood and surely understands.

Sometimes I think I can share her mind, seeing through her eyes, though she is on another planet. I get the feeling that I could communicate directly with her, without even any lapse of time for the traveling of the mind-waves, if I really tried; that in a sense I am her, our identities merging. Then I laugh and tell myself, “Not in this life!” Sometimes it becomes difficult to separate the sense from the nonsense, as I undergo dialysis and let my thoughts wander. But it is comforting to feel my daughter's presence on such occasions, in whatever manner that may be.

I should mention also the manner in which my relationship with Forta matured. After the excitement of the rescue of my daughter and the incorporation of Jupiter subsided, and I found myself alone with Forta, I felt awkward. You see, despite the number of women I have known, it is not my practice to relate to them promiscuously. After I had come to terms with Forta on Venus, I had had no intention of dallying with any other, apart from the single episode with Doppie. Roulette had been out of turn, and now it bothered me.

Forte quickly enough fathomed my concern. “But you thought she was me,” she said.

“I should have realized,” I mumbled, the guilt intensifying.

“My emulations are that transparent?”

I smiled, for the ploy was obvious. “I delight in your emulations, but it is important to me now to know that that is what they are. Then I can enjoy the forms of others without separating from you. That is the best of worlds.”

“Would it help if I confessed that I knew she would attempt to carry through the masquerade?”

It was phrased as a question, but it was a statement; I read her clearly enough. “But did you know it would deceive me?”

“Only if you wanted to be deceived.”

I pounded one fist into my other hand. “There's the key! I should have known, would have known, had I not desired Rue herself! And in that I wronged you.”

“Did you, Hope?”

“I should have recognized her, and kept my hands off her. And would have, had I not deceived myself. I did desire her, and I yielded to that desire, and that is the apology I must make to you.”

“Give me a moment,” she said. She went to her bedroom, while I returned to the writing of this manuscript, as mentioned.

In due course she emerged. I looked up—and there was Roulette, exactly as she had been so recently.

Her body, her signals—

I got up. “May I?” I asked.

She spread her hands, accepting. I opened her blouse, unfastened her halter, and ran my fingers around her heavy breasts. This was a clinical examination, but my body reacted as I touched those wonders.

There was the powder, coming off on my fingers. There were the tiny ridges, marking the juncture of real and pseudoflesh. I caught at a ridge and pulled—and the ridge came off, leaving the breast, as before.

“Damn it!” I swore. “I'm not going this route again!”

She lifted her hands and removed her mask. “But it is me, Hope,” she said.

Indeed, it was Forta. I embraced her and kissed her ardently. “You could have fooled me,” I said after a moment, realizing that the cement that held on the pseudo-flesh adhered to her entire breast, and needed no ridges; those had been, as it were, decorations. Probably that flesh would not come off unless a neutralizer was applied and allowed to work its way through. Forta had played a little trick on me.

“And she did fool you,” she agreed. "You might have fathomed it, had you any further reason to suspect.

You were guilty of carelessness, not ill intent.“ She restored the mask. ”And what are you going to do about it, Tyrant?" she said in Rue's voice.

I did not reply in words. I took her into my bedroom, where Smilo snoozed, and stripped her clothing but not her emulation, and I made love to her in the guise of Roulette, and it was as good as it had been with the real Roulette.

“Which do you prefer,” she asked as we relaxed, “her emulating me, or me emulating her?”

I considered, and remembered how the real Rue had insisted on violence. Forta had not. “You emulating her,” I said.

“Then make no apology,” she said.

And I realized that I had indeed paid her the ultimate compliment. Roulette had been the most striking (forget the pun!) woman I had known, and I really did prefer Forta now. I also appreciated the compliment Roulette had paid me, seeking me so ardently after all these years.

I lifted myself and removed her mask. “You are the first ugly woman I have loved,” I said. Then I kissed her on her scarred cheek, and ran my tongue across it, savoring her as she was.

“And you are the first philandering man I have loved,” she said.

We started laughing, together, and it was some time before we stopped. We understood each other, and that is a joy of its own type.

Of course she knew that when I used the word “love” I did not mean exactly what she did by it. What I felt for my various women might better be described as crushes. But it was also true that I had developed as solid a respect for Forta as for any woman, and not merely for her ability to emulate others.

Forta had never attempted to proselytize; she had accepted me as I was, and cooperated with me in all things. She had also saved the life of my daughter, a debt I could never adequately repay. But as I came to respect her, I sought to do that which I knew would please her. She wanted no jewelry or clothing or even compliments, so I did not offer these. She wanted to alleviate suffering wherever it existed. As a member and beneficiary of Amnesty Interplanetary she was concerned with man's inhumanity to man, and she knew a great deal about this, and answered when I queried about it. Thus, as the Tyrant came to have power over various planets, a persistent investigation and alleviation of human-rights abuses of those planets followed. Wherever we went, the life of the common man improved, and the abusers suffered.

Because of Forta. In fact, the only period of real strain between us was during the bloodletting of the liquidation of the nomenklatura; she elected to visit Jupiter at that time, and did not return until the killing was done. She never spoke to me about the matter, but I got the message.

“Is this why you came to me?” I asked her once. “Because you knew that through me you could do more good for your cause than you could otherwise?”

“Yes.” She made no attempt to avoid the issue. She was not the type.

“And my wife sent you for the same reason?” I always meant Megan when I referred to my wife, though I had been married several times.

“Yes.”

“May I never disappoint either of you.”

“You have not so far.”

“But you expect me to in the future?”

“When you die.”

Oh. And of course my end was approaching, for the exhaustion of my access sites for dialysis was accelerating as I had increasing trouble with clotting. We had moved from my legs to my arms, no longer needing to conceal the scars. I was at this point sixty-eight years old, and considering it realistically I judged that two more years was all I could expect of mobile, functional existence. Thereafter I would be bedridden, and deprived of the various pleasures of independent existence, sex among them.

I think it was at that point that I decided to die in my own fashion, not waiting for the inevitable degradation to have its way with me. I did not fear death; I feared a helpless, meaningless life.

“What unfinished business do I have?” I asked her.

She ticked items off on her fingers. “Completion of the Triton Project. Incorporation of the Middle Kingdom. Designation of a successor to the Tyrancy.”

“And only a year to do it,” I muttered.

“Pardon?”

“Let's get on it.” But of course she had heard me the first time.

We took the tube to Triton. By this time there were many projection tubes, serving all the planets, and the self-receiving projection units were coming off the Jupiter lines. These actually amounted to the preset conversion of light beams in photon computers, the beams calibrated so accurately that the mergence of the key beams did not occur until the set distance had been traveled. The farther the distance, the more precise the settings had to be. We had used a very crude version to travel from Mercury to Jupiter; the difference between a span of a light-hour or so and that of a thousand light-years or so is manifest. But with the perfection of that technology, we were ready to send colony ships virtually any distance into the galaxy. It was time to officially inaugurate that program, and Forta was right: it had to be done by the Tyrant, the unifying figure for this effort. If I didn't see it started in my lifetime, it might very well dissolve thereafter into factional fragmentation, and the chance to do it peacefully would be lost.