The Prince by Jerry Pournelle and S.M. Stirling

“As to why—” Armstrong pointed silently to the screen.

Croser waited out the applause. You’ll envy your brother before I’m through with you, he thought coldly.

“Mr. Speaker,” he said quietly.

“I recognize Senator Croser.”

“My compliments to the Senator on his ability to paraphrase the Classics; however, he is not Marcus Tullius Cicero. Nor is this Rome. Nor am I,” he went on, letting a slight sneer into his tone, “the brother of the man whose agents destroyed a shuttle with over one thousand men, women and children aboard—an atrocity I note is not among the disgraceful collection of demagogic propaganda to which we have been exposed! An atrocity which has imperiled the independence of Sparta.”

One of Armstrong’s friends gripped him by the arm as he began a lunge forward.

“If this assembly,” Croser went on, “wishes to emulate the Senate of the late Roman Republic—and court the same fate at the hands of ambitious generals and mercenary armies—then at least my voice will have been heard in warning!”

He sat. Not bad, he thought. Not that it would make any difference, but it would be there on the record. Another Senator asked for the floor.

“I recognize Senator Hollings.”

“Mr. Speaker. While I agree that a grave emergency confronts the State, I am disturbed by the reckless haste with which the Ultimate Decree has been proposed; in fact—”

Croser glanced at his wrist; a half-hour since the session began. Longer the better, he thought.

At last the Speaker’s gavel fell. “Senators, do I hear a second for Senator Armstrong’s motion?”

“I second.”

“Senator Makeba seconds. Senators, a motion is before this assembly. The Ephors acting in their capacity as Protectors of the Citizens have requested the Ultimate Decree, authorizing the Kings to take all necessary actions to safeguard the State, and it has been duly moved and seconded. Duration is one year from this date, subject to renewal by vote. A two-thirds majority is necessary for the passage of this Decree. Senators, you have one minute to register your will.”

A thick silence descended; despite the ventilators, Croser could smell the sweat of fear and tension. At last Scaevoli looked up from his desk and smiled at him.

“For, one hundred seven votes. Against, eight votes. Eight abstentions. The Decree is in force, as of this day, April seventeenth, 2096, and this hour.”

The old man rose, moving with careful dignity. There was a slight gasp as he lifted the Mace of the Senate from its cushion; the procedure was laid down in the Constitution, but Sparta had never seen it done in all the years since the Founding. Scaevoli turned, bowing as he laid the symbol of representative power on the empty plinth equidistant between the two thrones.

“Your Majesties,” he said, bowing to the left and right. “Into your hands we yield the Sword of the State. May God preserve and guide you.”

“Amen,” Alexander said.

He stood. After a moment David I stood as well.

“Our first act shall be to appoint Crown Prince Lysander as Master of the Forces,” Alexander said. “He shall act in the name of the Kings with the authority of the Kings until such time as we shall rescind those powers.” He bowed toward David.

David said, “So be it,” and sat.

Alexander was still on his feet. “Senators,” he said. “One man is the author of our miseries; one man is responsible for the unspeakable conspiracy which has caused so much suffering and death among Our people.” He paused, as all eyes turned to Croser. “From respect for your august assembly’s immunity from executive action, I now require that you place under arrest Senator Dion Croser, on charges of High Treason, and take him from this place to be delivered to duly appointed officers who shall place him in custody and hold him at our pleasure.”

Croser stood; something seemed to pass from his face, as if an invisible mask had been removed.

“Very well.” His voice cut through the buzz of excitement that filled the chamber, clear and carrying enough not to need amplification; half a dozen Senators were elbowing their way toward him.

“Treason?” he said coldly, then laughed. “I too have an appropriate quotation. “Why is it that treason never prospers? Why, if it prosper, none dare call it treason!'”

Silence fell for a moment. “And if this is treason, rest assured I shall make the most of it. I’ll be back.”

“Attach the leads here and here, please,” Jesus Alana said.

They had selected a small staff office in the Palace for the interrogation; the chair to which Croser was strapped was already secured to the floor, and the equipment had been easy to set up.

“As you can see, gentlemen,” Alana went on, “this is a completely non-intrusive technique. No pain or drugs. The subject condemns himself.”

Alexander and David seated themselves in one corner, determination and distaste on their faces; the Senators joined them, and Scaevoli, who watched with bright-eyed interest. Prince Lysander entered in full uniform.

“About time,” he said softly, smiling at Croser. “About bloody time.”

“Catherine?”

“Ready to calibrate,” she replied, looking up from the desk.

“Senator Croser,” Jesus Alana said politely. “You realize this system doesn’t require your collaboration? Your body and nervous system cannot lie to the machines; even if you don’t say a word, ‘yes’ and ‘no’ will come through as clearly as if you had shouted. Why don’t you cooperate now, and save us all time and trouble, and yourself some discomfort?”

Croser could not move in the padded clamps, but he managed to spit with fair accuracy at the Legionnaire’s feet. Jesus Alana sighed.

“Is your name Dion Croser?” he asked.

“Got it, positive,” Catherine said.

“Are you a dolphin?”

“Negative, Jesus.”

“Are you leader of the conspiracy to overthrow the Dual Monarchy?”

“Positive, ninety-seven percent. Fear reaction, aggression. Ambivalence; he’s been wondering if he’s still really in charge.”

This time Croser spoke: “Om.”

“Do you know the woman known as Field Prime?”

“Om mane padme hum.”

“Does she work for you?”

“No—”

“Uncertainty,” said Catherine.

“With reason,” Jesus answered. “You have been engaged in warfare against the Dual Monarchy. Are you in the employ of anyone off-planet? Are you in the employ of Grand Senator Bronson?”

Catherine shook her head.

Jesus Alana smiled thinly. “Have you received material and financial assistance from Grand Senator Bronson? Thank you. Do you receive much assistance from that source? Was one item of that assistance a large missile designed to penetrate and destroy fortresses? Ah, you remember that missile. Were you aware that this missile was to be employed in the attack on the Stora mines?”

“Not for that!”

“Not for what, Senator?” Jesus asked pleasantly. “You were then aware that there would be an attack on the mine. Did you approve that attack?”

“Om mane padme hum.”

“To whom did you give that approval? Did you give approval to Field Prime? Thank you. Is Skida Thibodeau the person known as Field Prime?”

“Om mane padme hum.”

“Where is Field Prime now? Do you want to see her? Shall we bring her to you when we have captured her? Perhaps you would care to be in the same cell?”

Croser looked as if he had swallowed a serpent. Catherine held up her thumb and forefinger joined in a circle. Her smile showed wicked glee.

“Does Senator Bronson have representatives on this planet? Ah, does he have more than one? Ah. Thank you, we will return to that point later. For now, does the term technoninja mean anything to you? Do the technoninjas work for you?”

“Doubt again, Jesus,” Catherine said.

“So. Ms. Thibodeau calls herself Field Prime. Do you have a title in this movement? What is that title? Are you called President? Chairman? Something Prime? Ah. Sparta Prime? Political Prime? Movement Prime?”

“Om mane padme hum.”

“City Prime? Not city but closer. Ah. Capital Prime? So. You are known as Capital Prime,” Jesus said. “You see, Senator, it does you no good to evade, and I fear your bio-feedback training is not up to this task. Do you know where Field Prime is? Do you know where her primary base is located? Thank you. Do others around you know? Does the bodyguard known as Cheung know?” Jesus smiled wolfishly. “You may be pleased to know that the Cheung brothers are reunited, in the basement of the Palace. We will soon know all that they know.”

“So much for your legalities,” Croser said. “Lee Cheung has committed no crime. I didn’t know he had a brother.”

“Both lies,” Catherine said.

“Ah, but under the Ultimate Decree we need not prove a crime to detain someone,” Jesus said.

“It wasn’t passed yet when you arrested him.”

“True, but he was seen to be armed in the Senate Galleries. He was detained for proper identification, but before his release—you see, Senator, you are not the only one who can employ the law for his own purposes. We now require confirmation of information we already have. Is the primary base camp in the Southeast? Here, on this map.”