The Prince by Jerry Pournelle and S.M. Stirling

“You do seem observant,” Falkenberg said.

“Sure.” Hamner was bitter. “What the hell good does it do me? I don’t understand anything that’s going on, and I don’t trust anybody. I see pieces of the puzzle, but I can’t put them together. Sometimes I think I should use what influence I’ve got left to get you out of the picture anyway.”

“As you will.” Falkenberg’s smile was coldly polite. “Whom do you suggest as guards for your family after that? The Chief of Police? Listen.”

The Stadium roared again in an angry sound that swelled in volume.

“You win,” Hamner left the table and walked slowly back to the council room. His head swirled.

Only one thing stood out clearly. John Christian Falkenberg controlled the only military force on Hadley that could oppose Bradford’s people—and the Freedom Party gangsters, who were the original enemies in the first place. Can’t forget them just because I’m getting scared of Ernie, George thought.

He turned away from the council room and went downstairs to the apartment he’d been assigned. The sooner Laura was in the Marine barracks, the safer he’d feel.

But am I sending her to my enemies? O God, can I trust anyone at all? Boris said he was an honorable man. Keep remembering that, keep remembering that. Honor. Falkenberg has honor, and Ernie Bradford has none.

And me? What have I got for leaving the Freedom Party and bringing my technicians over to the Progressives? A meaningless title as Second Vice President, and—

The crowd screamed again. “POWER TO THE PEOPLE!”

George heard and walked faster.

* * *

Bradford’s grin was back. It was the first thing George noticed as he came into the council chamber. The little man stood at the table with an amused smile. It seemed quite genuine, and more than a little frightening.

“Ah, here is our noble Minister of Technology and Second Vice President,” Bradford grinned. “Just in time, Mr. President, that gang out there is threatening the city. I am sure you will all be pleased to know that I’ve taken steps to end the situation.”

“What have you done?” George demanded.

Bradford’s smile broadened even more. “At this moment, Colonel Cordova is arresting the leaders of the opposition. Including, Mr. President, the leaders of the Engineers’ and Technicians’ Association who have joined them. This rebellion will be over within the hour.”

Hamner stared at the man. “You fool! You’ll have every technician in the city joining the Freedom Party gang! And the techs control the power plants, our last influence over the crowd. You bloody damned fool!”

Bradford spoke with exaggerated politeness. “I thought you would be pleased, George, to see the rebellion end so easily. Naturally I’ve sent men to secure the power plants. Ah, listen.”

The crowd outside wasn’t chanting anymore. There was a confused babble, then a welling of sound that turned ugly. No coherent words reached them, only the ugly, angry roars. Then there was a rapid fusillade of shots.

“My God!” President Budreau stared wildly in confusion. “What’s happening? Who are they shooting at? Have you started open war?”

“It takes stern measures, Mr. President,” Bradford said. “Perhaps too stern for you?” He shook his head slightly. “The time has come for harsh measures, Mr. President. Hadley cannot be governed by weak-willed men. Our future belongs to those who have the will to grasp it!”

George Hamner turned toward the door. Before he could reach it, Bradford called to him. “Please, George.” His voice was filled with concern. “I’m afraid you can’t leave just yet. It wouldn’t be safe for you. I took the liberty of ordering Colonel Cordova’s men to, uh, guard this room while my troops restore order.”

An uneasy quiet had settled on the Stadium, and they waited for a long time. Then there were screams and more shots.

The sounds moved closer, as if they were outside the Stadium as well as in it. Bradford frowned, but no one said anything. They waited for what seemed a lifetime as the firing continued. Guns, shouts, screams, sirens, and alarms—those and more, all in confusion.

The door burst open. Cordova came in. He now wore the insignia of a full colonel. He looked around the room until he found Bradford. “Sir, could you come outside a moment, please?”

“You will make your report to the Cabinet,” President Budreau ordered. Cordova glanced at Bradford. “Now, sir.”

Cordova still looked to Bradford. The Vice President nodded slightly.

“Very well, sir,” the young officer said. “As directed by the Vice President, elements of the Fourth Battalion proceeded to the Stadium and arrested some fifty leaders of the so-called constitutional convention.

“Our plan was to enter quickly and take the men out through the Presidential box and into the Palace. However, when we attempted to make the arrests we were opposed by armed men, many in the uniforms of household guards. We were told there were no weapons in the Stadium, but this was in error.

“The crowd overpowered my officers and released their prisoners. When we attempted to recover them, we were attacked by the mob and forced to fight our way out of the Stadium.”

“Good Lord,” Budreau sighed. “How many hurt?”

“The power plants! Did you secure them?” Hamner demanded.

Cordova looked miserable. “No, sir. My men were not admitted. A council of technicians and engineers holds the power plants, and they threaten to destroy them if we attempt forcible entry. We have tried to seal them off from outside support, but I don’t think we can keep order with only my battalion. We will need all the constabulary army to—”

“Idiot.” Hamner clutched at his left fist with his right, and squeezed until it hurt. A council of technicians. I’ll know most of them. My friends. Or they used to be. Will any of them trust me now? At least Bradford didn’t control the fusion plants.

“What is the current status outside?” President Budreau demanded. They could still hear firing in the streets.

“Uh, there’s a mob barricaded in the market, and another in the theater across from the Palace, sir. My troops are trying to dislodge them.” Cordova’s voice was apologetic.

“Trying. I take it they aren’t likely to succeed.” Budreau rose and went to the anteroom door. “Colonel Falkenberg?” he called.

“Yes, sir?” Falkenberg entered the room as the President beckoned.

“Colonel, are you familiar with the situation outside?”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“Damn it, man, can you do something?”

“What does the President suggest I do?” Falkenberg looked at the Cabinet members. “For three months we have attempted to preserve order in this city. We were not able to do so even with the cooperation of the technicians.”

“It wasn’t my fault—” Lieutenant Colonel Cordova began.

“I did not invite you to speak.” Falkenberg’s lips were set in a grim line. “Gentlemen, you now have open rebellion and simultaneously have alienated one of the most powerful blocs within your Party. We no longer control either the power plants or the food processing centers. I repeat, what does the President suggest I do?”

Budreau nodded. “A fair enough criticism.”

He was interrupted by Bradford. “Drive that mob off the streets! Use those precious troops of yours to fight, that’s what you’re here for.”

“Certainly,” Falkenberg said. “Will the President sign a proclamation of martial law?”

Budreau nodded reluctantly. “I suppose I have to.”

“Very well,” Falkenberg said.

Hamner looked up suddenly. What had he detected in Falkenberg’s voice and manner? Something important?

“It is standard for politicians to get themselves into a situation that only the military can get them out of. It is also standard for them to blame the military afterwards,” Falkenberg said. “I am willing to accept responsibility for enforcing martial law, but I must have command of all government forces. I will not attempt to restore order when some of the troops are not responsive to my policies.”

“No!” Bradford leaped to his feet. The chair crashed to the floor behind him. “I see what you’re doing! You’re against me too! That’s why it was never time to move, never time for me to be President, you want control of this planet for yourself! Well, you won’t get away with it, you cheap dictator. Cordova, arrest that man!”

Cordova licked his lips and looked at Falkenberg. Both soldiers were armed. Cordova decided not to chance it. “Lieutenant Hargreave!” he called. The door to the anteroom opened wide.

No one came in. “Hargreave!” Cordova shouted again. He put his hand on the pistol holstered at his belt. “You’re under arrest, Colonel Falkenberg.”

“Indeed?”

“This is absurd,” Budreau shouted. “Colonel Cordova, take your hand off that weapon! I will not have my Cabinet meeting turned into a farce.”

For a moment nothing happened. The room was very still, and Cordova looked from Budreau to Bradford, wondering what to do now.

Then Bradford faced the President. “You too, old man? Arrest Mr. Budreau as well, Colonel Cordova. As for you, Mr. Traitor George Hamner, you’ll get what’s coming to you. I have men all through this Palace. I knew I might have to do this.”