Chapter Seven
Imperial Policy

Empress Hoshi Sato stepped onto her bridge at 0800, following Travis Mayweather and Paul Estes, who held their phaser rifles trained upon the Bridge Crew until they saw there was no opposition. However, though they raised their weapons, they didn't relax their vigilance for a moment.

Her officers snapped to Attention, faced her and executed the new Imperial Salute with sharp precision. She returned it, utterly satisfied.

This morning she wore a long white gown of the finest, most luxurious silk; which both draped and hugged her figure in the most flattering manner. She had discovered its design in the computer records of the ship, and from thence it was a simple matter to order the computer to construct it. It had been fascinating to see it go from concept to reality when it had come from behind one of the multitude of materialization consoles scattered about the ship. She wished she could have watched the process before the protective panel had been raised. Maybe she would order them replaced by clear barriers.

It was a good day. She felt extremely refreshed, the result of an excellent night's sleep following the skillful attentions of her Chief Bodyguard, who had again proven himself even more imaginative and talented than he had been yesterday afternoon. She grinned at the private thought, wondering just how many Chief Bodyguards brought so much work to the office. She was sure the number was very low indeed.

"What news from below?" she asked the Beta shift Communications Officer standing to her right. Richard Malloy had already turned over the board to Grace Winters, but knew better than to depart without making his report.

"Your Excellency, the Council of Ministers - there are thirteen survivors - have formally acknowledged you as Empress and pledge their undying support."

"Undying." She smiled. "Yes, I am sure that's their true prayer."

"They beg leave to attend you and earnestly solicit your orders."

She turned to Grace Winters, seated at the console. "Contact them. Tell them I will meet first with the Minister of Arms. He is to be prepared to beam aboard this ship in twenty minutes to discuss a plan for dealing with the Rebel forces. I shall then meet with each of the other Ministers singly in turn."

"Yes, your Highness." She turned to accomplish that duty.

"The highest ranking Starfleet officer," Malloy continued, "is Vice Admiral MacConnacle. He was in Scotland and did not make it to San Francisco in time to attend the meeting about Captain Archer."

"I trust he'll be more efficient in the future," Hoshi replied with a wry smile.

"He has issued orders for all the Armed Forces and all remaining ships of the Fleet to acknowledge you as Supreme Commander. They are to stand by and await your orders."

Hoshi Sato couldn't be happier. While she had rested and refreshed herself after a trying and stressful day, her position as Ruler of the Terran Empire had been secured. With the political and military forces supporting her, she was now firmly in command of the Galaxy.

Stepping down to her Command Chair and seating herself upon her throne, she allowed the pleasure to wash over her, suffuse her, fill her and sate her - and then she let it go.

x

She knew, and could never dare forget, that she ruled a race of strong and proud people who respected power, and followed that person who could prove that she could hold and wield power. She also knew that, should she ever fail to exercise that power successfully and wisely - in that order - then she herself would suffer the same fate as her late, unlamented predecessor. There would be a phaser beam in her future, perhaps one from this future ship, and it was unlikely that it would be set to preserve her lovely body.

For now, she commanded the strongest and most successful men and women in the Empire, but only so long as she was strong and successful - or at least until she did not have the overpowering might of the Defiant in her hands.

She would have the loyalty and obedience of the most capable men and women in the galaxy, until the day came when she either could not put down the rebellion among the alien races that were subject to the Empire or she met someone more ambitious than most, who thought he had a good enough plan and the backing to carry it through.

She wondered which might come first.

x

She had been a Communications Officer just days ago, a Lieutenant, a 'Captain's Woman' who knew how to use her mind and body to accomplish her goals, who had ridden the train of power through Forrest and Archer. She'd let the latter act openly to establish his plan for power until she was ready to take it away from him. She'd worked in the background to establish her own position, suborning Archer's best people until he had cleared the path and she was ready to make her move. Then she had gone, at a mind-shattering pace, from Lieutenant to Empress.

Of the greatest importance, if she was ever going to sit upon her throne, let alone stay there, was how she could cement her power. For that she needed three things: the true and faithful loyalty of her subjects in the political and military arenas; a strong leadership to fill the void left by the extermination of the top Officers of the Empire; and the defeat of the greatest threat the Empire had ever known, the coalition of worlds who had risen up to rebel against Imperial domination.

If she failed in any of those key areas, she knew that her reign would not be long and she would not be missed.

x

This ship could defeat any number of rebel warships arrayed against it - except that it wasn't out there challenging any rebels. It was here, in orbit of Earth, protecting and cementing her power by the strength of its phasers and photon torpedoes, by the secret might of its advanced scientific instrumentality and by the vast knowledge contained in its staggering computer banks. She was not ready to send it out against the enemies of the Empire. She could not go with it, nor could she be without it.

The problem, then, was how to use it to win this war while keeping it in orbit about Earth?

"Mister Mayweather."

"Your Majesty?"

She stood up. "Walk with me to the Briefing Room. I want your insight before I meet with the Minister of Arms."

xxx

Simon Margan, Minister of Arms, was a darkly attired, white haired man who carried a walking stick and pomposity with equal dexterity. Hoshi decided in the first three seconds of meeting him that she didn't like him, and considered relieving him of both affectations.

She tempered herself, however. Yesterday had been a day for annihilating people. Today she needed a better plan.

x

"You want to what?" the man exclaimed, astounded, five minutes into the meeting.

He had greeted her with all the proper shows of respect, from the new Imperial Salute to dropping down on one knee before her before being given leave to rise and assume a chair at the Briefing Room table. Hoshi was sure that these shows were much like he had favored the former Emperor with. She doubted MacNamara had believed their sincerity either.

When Margan had listened to her 'proposal' and returned so shocked an answer, Hoshi believed it was probably the first truly honest and guileless response he had given to anything in a long time.

Nevertheless, she was not through surprising him.

x

"This ship is the ultimate power in the galaxy. Its speed is many times that of our most powerful battleships. They risk flying apart at warp 5. This ship is designed for normal cruising, for weeks at a time, at warp 6. We fight at warp 8, with an emergency speed of warp 9.95. Our phasers can destroy a battleship, a city or a moon with equal ease. You saw what one torpedo at minimal setting did to the Admiralty building, and another to the dissidents in Seattle."

She watched his face cloud with pain. The lesson of Seattle would resonate through the Empire for many years to come.

"It is, however, one ship. The rebels have our Fleet outnumbered and outgunned. We are fighting a losing battle. They have too many ships and are scattered too widely for us to work effectively."

"We have too few ships," the man concurred. "Yet you damaged the Vindicator so severely that she will be out of operation for months. By the time it is back on the line, we could all be learning to speak Andorian."

"I am not here to debate Imperial policy with you, but to give it to you!"

It was well for the man's health that he knew when to shut up.

x

"Thus far I have shared with the Fleet, and our enemies who have most certainly been listening to our communications, the story of the strength of this ship. It is, however, only one vessel and will remain so for quite some time. It is true that in time this will be the model of a vast fleet of ships, but for now it is unique.

"Our enemies are watching, and waiting. They know we are strong, but have no idea how strong. I require two things of you."

"And what are they, my Empress?"

"First, your support to the story that, thus far, the Defiant has used only the smallest part of its might. It is capable of more - far more. In reality this ship can defeat a task force. From you I want it known that it can defeat a Fleet!"

The old man nodded. "A prudent tactic. They won't believe, but they will hesitate. They will know we are exaggerating, but they will not know by how much."

"While they are uncertain, I will introduce to them my new policy. We are going to win with diplomacy, with negotiation, what cannot be won with phasers."

x

Margan could not hide his surprise, but his Empress was not finished.

"Under the 'leadership' of Robert MacNamara, if that word could ever be used to describe the policies of so narrow-minded a fool, the resources and strengths of all the subject worlds of the Empire were channeled into the Empire. Those worlds gave everything they had; resources, wealth, people, and got nothing out of it. That was why they rebelled.

"MacNamara's answer to this was to crush them, to throw Imperial military might at these planets. As a result, he spread our forces so thin they couldn't support or even back themselves up. He completely underestimated the Rebels' strength. He, and the Admiralty, thought they were dealing with backwater peoples who had not learned the technology we imposed upon them. He, and the Admiralty, set a course we could not possibly win.

"The brilliant 20th Century tactician Edward E. Smith once wrote that 'to overestimate an enemy is at worst an unnecessary precaution; to underestimate him can be disastrous'. MacNamara either could not or would not learn that lesson. The result is where we find ourselves on the verge of defeat if not for the Defiant. If not for one ship."

"And your new policy?" He was smart enough not to sound as mocking in voice as he was in thought.

x

"I intend to return a measure of autonomy to the subject worlds. Right now we devote too much of our effort and resources to controlling them. Worse, we use the resources of Andoria to keep Berengaria under our thumb, while Berengarian might goes to suppress Malcadia, and we use the Malcadians to help us control Andoria. In reality it's not that simple; the complexity is not three levels thick, but twenty, thirty, fifty.

"In the end, we put so much effort into controlling our conquered territories that control is an illusion."

"And you have a better way?"

"I've found a better model, yes. I can't tell you all the details, but in broad it turns a completely repressive control into a cooperative one. The goal will be to make everybody work together to a plan. Right now, the Empire doesn't grow - it expands. When we need something, we conquer new territories, new planets. It just gives us more to control, when what we really needed were the resources we had but couldn't cooperate among ourselves well enough to use."

"Cooperate among ourselves?" He said it like it was a totally foreign concept. "We are the Empire. We do cooperate on Earth."

Hoshi closed her eyes, realizing this man's were as figuratively so as she was doing literally. She knew she could talk herself hoarse and he would never understand. But there would be others.

"Fine."

x

"And the second thing you need from me?"

Here, at least, she thought she was on firmer ground with a Minister of Arms, someone who had devoted himself to war and knew only strength. "I need a crew. Three hundred of your very best, most intelligent and capable men and women. I don't need toadies, I don't need dumb soldiers or 'yes' men. I need the best, smartest and most capable people in the Service. I need you to hand pick them for ability and loyalty. They must be ready and able to learn systems their grandchildren weren't going to be ready for. And I need all of this immediately."

x

Simon Margan had been Minister of Arms for a long time, having served two capable Emperors. He didn't think much of this woman's plans, and was certain that her blood would grace the Throne Room within a week. "Anything else, your Supremacy?" he asked with a light air. "Phobos and Deimos in ballet orbits about Mars, say?"

Hoshi Sato leaned forward, and where the man's smile had been slightly mocking, hers was glacial. "I hope you enjoyed your final indulgence of wit in this lifetime, because I promise you that if I ever have reason to question the loyalty of anybody you place aboard this ship, you will watch your three granddaughters executed by slow torture."

Minister Margan had served two Emperors, and now one Empress, in his long term in office, and he had been threatened with much in his days. Several times, on matters of grave import, his family had been threatened.

But looking into this woman's eyes, this was the very first time that he believed it.