2: Charting a New Course
Alphard
Marian Hegemony
April 26th 3009
Posca held on to his seat as the large VTOL lurched up and down, fighting the queasy feeling in his stomach. He had never been much of a fan of flying, and even though the aircraft was stupendously luxurious by most standards it largely failed at counteracting the treacherous wind currents and air pockets over the Stella Maris.
Contrary to that, if 'unfazed' had a face, it would have been that of Emperor Marius. The younger man sat across him in a soft-cushioned bright leather seat, devouring the second of two large toasted sandwiches with pastrami, turkey, avocado, mango chutney, tomatoes and lots of cheese with one hand while the other deftly balanced a large cup of steaming coffee without a care in the world.
From a nearby window Posca caught a glimpse of two smaller VTOL aircrafts, autocannons and missile pods glistening in the morning sun, flying as their escort.
"You sure you don't want anything to eat? It's going to be a long day!" Marius called out, but Posca shook his head and held up his hands, just in time for the aircraft to shudder softly once more.
"I'm sure the flight crew would petition to see me whipped if I defiled all that leather and hardwood, dominus."
Marius shrugged. "Get some chamomile tea then, for your belly. Or something stronger, for your anxiety. Casually having a drink on the job is one of the perks of your new position," he smirked.
Despite not feeling it Posca humored the younger man with a smile. "I'd rather not on an empty stomach. Not right now. Where are we going again, dominus?"
"Gaul," the young emperor replied briefly, finishing the last bite of his meal. "I'm visiting family, and I need you along for the ride. My great-uncle and aunt, to be specific."
Posca furrowed his brows, trying to quickly run a tally of the O'Reilly family in his mind. "Corvinus O'Reilly?"
"That's the one," Marius took a sip of his coffee. "Him and auntie Neeva. Haven't seen them in a while, and they weren't present at father's burial."
"I seem to remember your late father and his cousin didn't part ways on the best terms, dominus. What's caused this sudden urge to reconnect with distant family?"
"Isn't visiting family a good reason in and by itself?" Marius smiled.
"Just so. But I reckon you wouldn't have had me dragged to the helipad at dawn if craving your auntie's company was all there was to it," Posca shot back sardonically. "Why am I here anyway?"
"You're here because as my personal slave it would raise eyebrows if you were not," Marius flatly stated. "But the bigger issue is, uncle Corv's falling out with my father stemmed from his ideas and proposals for how to expand and structure our military. Do more with less. Or, at least, with the same. Father was against it. Maybe he was too set in his ways. Either way, they had a falling out, and Corvinus left the capital in disgrace. However," he put the now empty cup down, "I reckon if I want to do things in another way than I had originally intended, one way to get a start is to do it with the help of different people."
"That's going to ruffle some feathers," Posca warned. "There certainly are some back in Nova Roma who were all but sure that they'd move up into your inner circle."
Marius snorted. "Well, they better get used to it." Because that was just the start, he added in his mind. But he would have to throw them a bone every once in a while. The Senate and its patricians sadly were not impotent, and as much as forty years of accumulated disdain grated on his patience he knew he would have to play ball with them. For a time, at least.
Outside, the sound of the VTOL's engines suddenly changed to a lower whine, and Posca could feel the craft slowing.
"Approaching LZ, sir," the pilot announced via the cabin's intercom.
Drawing his attention to a nearby window, Posca saw the large VTOL sink through a layer of wispy clouds. Down below, a rolling steppe of thigh-high grass broken by rocky arroyos and copper-colored tower-like buttes spread from east to west. As they kept losing altitude the image became clearer, with a set of low grey concrete bunkers and white prefab buildings sitting clustered around a communications array between two low hills.
"Where are we, dominus?"
"The Merovian Plains, Posca. That down there should be a training ground for Alphard Trading Company's corporate security. Corvinus is on contract as a security consultant," Marius had to shout as the engines roared, the pilot holding the craft in place a few hundred feet above the ground, waiting for permission to land from ground control.
Posca could see it now.
A few hundred meters to their north a force of six militarized industrial mechs painted yellow ran towards the compound in a wedge formation, lasers firing and tracer rounds crossing the distance. A lance of apparently lighter mechs in green strode out to meet them, trading fire. The battle seemed a foregone conclusion, until about halfway towards the base two light green tanks emerged from behind a hill to the north, attacking the yellow force's left flank, easing the pressure on the defenders. Two yellow mechs moved to face them, in turn exposing their own flanks to harrying shots from the green team. As if on cue, two APCs burst from the cover of the compound at full speed, zigzagging their way across the rock-strewn plains towards the yellow's right flank, pelting them with machinegun fire. As they came closer they launched smoke grenades to obfuscate their maneuvers, hiding what the dust clouds had no already hidden. Fascinated, Posca watched as once again two of the attacking mechs broke off to face this new threat, only to be dumbstruck as the APCs raced out of cover again, now in the back of the yellow force. Out of the white smoke and brown dust infantry erupted like a swarm of ants, scrambling to cover between some of the bigger rocks. Muzzle flashes, small laser beams, and the smoke trails of shoulder-launched missiles added to the turmoil.
The center of the yellow formation suddenly found itself under the concentrated fire of the four green mechs. Then the view changed as the VTOL turned, preparing to land.
Marius had also followed the mock battle below with an equal amount of fascination, though his motivation had been a different one. Hanse Davion and the planners of the AFFS had championed the revival of combined arms tactics in the 31st century on a broad scale. When the 4th Succession War had erupted and lead to the near destruction of the Capellan Confederation everybody had scrambled to copy the model, with varying degrees of vigor and success. But that did not mean the idea had been dead and forgotten before the First Prince embraced it.
Corvinus 'Corv' O'Reilly had spent a lot of time outside the confines of the Hegemony as a mercenary out in the Periphery, and when he returned, foreign wife in tow, his ideas for the Marian armed forces had mirrored those of traditional combined arms thinkers. Over the years Marius had gained the theoretical knowledge as well; if anything, he was a relentless student of events. The second half of his reign had seen him start the Collegium Bellorum Imperium, the Imperial War College. But at the end of the day, he was the theorist. Corvinus O'Reilly, however? He had the practical chops, and the knack for organization.
The four engine VTOL touched the ground, and without waiting for the cabin crew Marius opened the hatch and stepped outside. Posca fumbled to open his seat belt and hurried after him, cursing the youth's élan. A wave of hot, dry air welcomed him as he left the aircraft.
Outside, a man about Posca's age strode to meet them, flanked by two officers. He was a short, stocky fellow with a beer belly stretching his light blue corporate security uniform, held in place by a military leather belt. White-blonde burnsides framed a hard face topped by a fringe of blonde hair, and mirrored aviator's sunglasses hid his eyes from both the glaring sunlight and the whirled-up dust.
"Uncle Corvinus," Marius greeted the man, extending his hand for a handshake rather than the more formal Marian salute. "It's been a while. You've met Posca?"
"You ruined the last stage of the exercise!" Corvinus yelled over the sound of the idling engines but took the extended hand anyway, giving it a solid shake. To Posca's - and Marius' – surprise the patrician turned to him and offered him his hand as well. With a start the older slave took it, shaking the bear-paw like hand firmly. "Yeah, it's been a while. Too long, to be honest. Shall we go inside?" he motioned towards the nearby bunker. "It's boiling out here in the sun."
"If it's not too much of a hassle I'd rather do this in private," Marius pointed back at the VTOL and its running engines. "Might take a while, so I'm offering you a ride home where we can talk."
The older O'Reilly tilted his head, his sideburns touching the epaulets of his uniform. "Well, who am I to deny such a request from the newly- crowned emperor? I want a full report on today's raining exercise on my desk tomorrow morning," he told one of his escorts. "Tell the men to call it a day for today. Training will continue on schedule in twenty-four hours. Lead the way," he nodded towards Marius.
The three men slipped back into the VTOL, and before Posca knew it they were airborne again. Corvinus O'Reilly gulped down a large glass of cool water and wiped the sweat of his brows with his shirt sleeves, all the while mustering his grand nephew closely. When he finally spoke his voice sounded no less gravelly than it had outside.
"You look terrible, if you don't mind myself saying so. Didn't you get any sleep?"
"I can sleep plenty when I die, uncle, and I almost did that for three weeks already," Marius told him sardonically. "But no, not much, I suppose? My doctors were less than thrilled, and Sylvana threw a fit when she found out, but I've got too much to think about and too little time to act on it," he shrugged nonchalantly.
Corvinus nodded, more to himself than the two of them. "I'd heard you fell sick. For what it's worth I'm glad that you're back on your feet again. And my sincere condolences to your father's death."
"Thank you. Sylvie and I, we missed you at the funeral. You and father, you used to be close," Marius remarked.
Corvinus shook his head with a sad smile. "That we were, back in the day. But we had a falling out about matters of policy, and while your father was indecisive on about ninety-nine percent of everything, the one percent he had an actual opinion on he was as stubborn as a goddamn mountain." He sighed. "Too much bad blood and angry words were attached to my departure. And I didn't want to bring that into focus by attending."
Sensing that this was all the man was willing to reveal on the matter for the time being, Marius changed the topic. "What did we witness back there? I wasn't aware the company needed that much gear to operate on Alphard and our other worlds."
"It doesn't," Corvinus conceded. "But Alphard Trading's active on a lot of worlds that don't really register on the maps. Prospecting, research, industrial testing in places where it won't hurt too many people if things go south. Most the time knowing who they're dealing with is enough to keep the locals and, ah, 'enterprising outsiders' in check. But every once a while they need more than a smile and a bribe to leave use alone. That's where my guys come in. And if you know one thing about corporate security, it's always spread too thin. So, I've tried to make a virtue out of necessity. A well-coordinated and motivated force of tanks, infantry and mechs is far more than the sum of its parts," he explained. "It's also got a lot more mission flexibility. Tanks and infantry can reach places mechs can't."
He turned to Posca, smiling jovially. "I suppose combined arms doctrine wasn't on the curriculum you taught that youngster?"
"What can I say. I am more of a generalist, dominus."
"You've done a fine job all around, old friend," Marius was quick to reassure him.
"And you're hardly an objective source for that!" Corvinus guffawed, his hard face showing laughter lines for the first time since they had met. "But I'll take your word for that, son. Besides, why should you now something that a thousand settled worlds all but have forgotten in their drive to bomb each other back into the stone age. Then again, better for me, eh?"
"Just so," Marius reaffirmed his great-uncle soberly. "And it's why I came to talk to you. But that can wait until we're settled in at your place."
"Alright, fair enough. Besides, Neeva will be thrilled to see you again. How old were you the last time? You had a crush on her, right?" Corvinus chuckled.
Despite decades of trained self-control Marius felt his cheeks blush. "I was fifteen, uncle Corv. And having a crush on a relative would be rather improper, right?"
"Boy, there hasn't been a man who has met Neeva who did not develop some crush," he told him warmly with a wink. "But your secret's safe with me. Now if you excuse me, I'll tell the pilot to call ahead."
They silently settled back into their seats for the rest of the flight.
Posca was surprised at how much the landscape outside began to change with how comparably little distance they passed. Steppe, mesas and lonely buttes slowly gave way to rocky hills and terraced fields, carefully hedge by orchards and olive groves to prevent soil erosion. Reservoirs, either in form of small ponds or squat white towers built from natural rock dotted the landscape, supplying precious water via an intricate network of stone-flagged trenches.
Corvinus' estate covered thousands of acres. At its center sat a long-drawn valley basin, filled with irrigation trenches, orchards of peach, orange, and olive trees, and terraced wheat and vegetable fields, neatly divided by a wide, paved road. At the far end the basin widened, and the road ended at a large, white neo-Roman mansion with a low-angled, red-tiled roof, built into the sides of the hill in two offset levels. Solar panels covered the south-facing parts, and a pair of wind turbines on a nearby hilltop provided the power for the villa and its many adjacent outbuildings.
Slowing down in a wide circling approach Marius' VTOL and its two escorts touched down on a wide ferroconcrete pad on the estate's north-eastern edge. Roads and foot paths shaded by palms and fruit trees led away from it like the rays of a star.
As they exited the craft, a Hunchback leisurely made its way towards them, its massive form never touching the nearby trees despite the narrow alleys. Its torso casually swung from left to right, giving the pilot a good overview of the newcomers – and Marius' security detail a near aneurysm, given the massive AC/20 could go through everything on the pad like tissue paper.
The hulking medium mech came to a halt at the edge of the pad, and Neeva Lee-O'Reilly skidded down the ladder leading to its cockpit.
Corvinus rushed to meet her. "Can't you keep that damn thing in the garage just for one day?" he called out in greeting his wife.
"'t was just a few steps!" she yelled back, pointing at her decidedly non-mechjockey attire in defense. "Besides, if you don't use it, you lose it." She leaned down to him and sniffed. "You smell of sweat."
Corvinus smiled like a cat faced with a pot of cream, planting a kiss on his wife. "You look great, too."
She did.
Neeva Lee-O`Reilly was of indo-korean heritage, tall and athletic and looking not a day older than a very well maintained forty years. The right side of her head was shaved, revealing an intricate pattern of tattoos. She wore the rest of her dark hair combed over with purple and white-colored strains hanging down to her chin. Instead of the customary cooling vest an asymmetric gold-embroidered purple linen dang'ui jacket covered to upper part of her hourglass figure, with the right sleeve reaching down over her hand and the left sleeve ending at her elbow. Reversed left to right a white silk skirt went down to her ankles on her left side, but was cut open to only cover part of her right thigh.
Introductions were made, and she led them down a shaded foot path to the villa. Marius noticed that only few people were out and about in the orchards and fields and chalked it up to the heat. Gaul was one of the few continents on Alphard where agriculture was possible, but even this far north of the equator the middays did get scorching hot.
Neeva held the door open for them.
"Come, let's get inside. I'll have refreshments and a light meal served, and we can catch up." Marian society had adopted the old Roman custom where the woman of the house usually ran the estate. It was no different here, even though Neeva had not been born in the Hegemony. "What brings you here? I thought you were neck deep in government business?"
Marius let the mansion's cool air wash over him. "It's more like up to my ears than my neck. And I felt I needed some change of scenery after the events of the past month."
Neeva gave him a sympathetic smile and hugged him.
"But they placed those silver laurels on my head, so honestly, nowhere I go is just for myself. There are some ideas I've been juggling with in my head. Ideas that I need feedback on that's not tainted by what the Senate or courtiers think," he explained with just a touch of remorse.
"Oh, Nova Roma follows you around where ever you go," she gave him an understanding nod and led them through rooms painted in soft yellows and whites, with dark red tiled floors divided by playful mosaics. "Getting rid of that feeling was among the best things happening to us when we closed that chapter a few years ago. Place is riddled with a bunch of pricks."
They took seats in the shade of a terrace built into the mansion's inner colonnade, where colorful flowerbeds, green plants and garden ponds created a naturally cooled down climate. After servants had supplied them with drinks and finger food, Marius decided it was time to get down to business.
"Thank you for your hospitality, especially on such short notice," he began. "You must wonder why I'm here, so let's not beat around the bush any longer than necessary. For most of my life I've tried to follow in my father's footsteps. But my recent brush with mortality's shown me that maybe my time would be better spent trying to build something rather than simply to preserve it. The Hegemony needs change, needs growth to weather the coming decades if we don't want to stay just another pirate kingdom that can be wiped off the map in a stormy afternoon, uncle. Now I'm faced with the task of setting up my government, and for that I need people who can think out of the box."
Marius reached into his jacket and produced a leather-bound notebook.
"I've been neck deep in memos and proposals ever since waking up again, and browsing the archives I came across your paper from seven years ago about building a new model army for the Hegemony," he shrugged. "And I saw part of your training exercise today, Corv. That's exactly the kind of force I have in mind. Neeva, I'm here to steal your husband," he smiled at her apologetically.
"I thought I made it clear hwo I feel about Nova Roma and the halls of power just a minute ago," Neeva voice was clipped.
"I'm on contract with Alphard Trading, nephew," Corvinus reminded Marius, his face sunken in thoughts. "Besides, it's not like I made many friends when I left Nova Roma behind. Besides, doesn't have Legate Smith his eyes on the position of Magister Militum?"
"Smith is a good officer, and I'd rather keep him were he's now. He's probably better suited to active command than the desk job of Secretary of Defense. In any case, he can either deal with my decision or hand in his resignation," Marius said sternly. "I'm going to expand the legions, Corv, turn them into a combined arms force, and I want you to be the man to do it. Your talents are going to waste trying to train corporate security to deal with riled up stone age yokels. Here," he slid another paper across the table, this one not typed but in stenciled handwriting. "Can it be done?"
Posca watched the older O'Reilly's eyes race across the paper. His face lit up and he whistled softly.
"Four full combined arms legions within fifteen years?"
"More, if we can manage," Marius added quietly. "Money really isn't an issue. The treasury's bursting at the seams," he quickly continued, almost defensively, "and germanium exports remain steady. So," he leaned forward, "can you do it?"
Corvinus picked up a pair of glasses from his pocket and re-read the paper carefully. "Your three maniple unit structure plus combined elements really simply isn't doable with the available dropships. Fifteen mechs, five vehicles, and the equivalent of two platoons of ground-pounders won't fit in any Union class known to man. And your legions are too mech-heavy compared to their other elements," he picked up a pen and started to cross out some sections while adding to others. "However, if we cut down the basic centuria to ten 'mechs plus armored and infantry elements we should be able to remodel our dropships to that effect. Yeah, converting two mech cubicles…," his voice trailed off as he nodded to himself.
Neeva cleared her throat. Corvinus blinked with a start, then looked at them apologetically like a child caught with their hands in the cookie jar. "Where was I? Ah, right. Here, that's how your legion should roughly look," he placed the paper back in the middle of the table. "Three battlemech cohorts, joined by six armored cohorts and another six infantry cohorts. They should have independent air defense and fire support elements, too; at least a few centuriae worth of them. That's not a small order," he skeptically shook his head, then sighed.
"So, can it be done? In principle? Sure. But I need you to understand the scope of what you're asking me to do here. This isn't just buying some mechs and tanks and raising the necessary manpower for them, Marius." He raised one fist and extended his arm, tilting his head towards it. "The legions' rank structure is wholly inadequate to organize a modern armed force of that magnitude, so that'll need to change. Recruitment will need to be organized. Seasoned NCOs and officers will have to be drawn from the existing ranks or hired abroad to get such a vast expansion under way. Which, at least temporarily, will leave the standing formations less combat capable. Unit integration already gives me a headache as well," he rolled his eyes. "We'll have to quickly and decisively get a force that's been solely comprised of patricians for the past eight decades to not only work together with newly raised troops that'll overwhelmingly be plebs, but actually reach a point where they see them as their equals. And that's only one side of the equation, Marius," he shook his head, then raised his other hand to parallel the first one.
"The other is material. Not just battlemechs and tanks, but guns, spares, uniforms, gear, munitions. Building the bases for the new troops. Setting up depots. Establishing logistics chains. I know our privateers have made stealing everything that's not bolted down into an art form, but we're talking about hundreds, if not thousands of vehicles, and tens of thousands of weapons, ideally standardized, the lion's share of which we don't produce domestically."
"I didn't consider the logistical details when I sketched out this plan," Marius admitted sheepishly.
"Eh, I've seen worse proposals into which more time and effort were put," Corvinus shrugged and gave him a reassuring smile. It looked odd to Marius, if only in his mind he was actually the older of the two men. "You've come to me because you want to get a fresh perspective, because you want to run those ideas you've got in your head past people to check if they aren't full of shit," his uncle continued with the bluntness of a hammer. "So, lets be real here. You're a smart boy, Marius. Always have been. What you're actually asking me here is to build you not just an army, but a tool for political leverage. No more, but no less," he rumbled. "Now, if you want to have serious armed forces the first thing to do is to take stock of the situation as it is, and let me tell you something, it's a clusterfuck."
He held up one finger. "Right now, excluding your Praetorian Guard, at the top of the pyramid you've got the equivalent of a single great house battlemech regiment. One that's mostly comprised of second and third children from patrician families, who occasionally dip their spears in blood by commerce raiding or pirate raids on our neighbor with the serial numbers filed off. Quite literally so, sometimes."
Another finger popped up. "Then, for a very long time, there's nothing. And once we've gone down long enough, there's patrician levies, which range from anywhere between ten people with guns to the equivalent of a combined arms company, complete with battlemechs. And of course, ad-hoc pleb militias."
Finger number three came up. "As if that wasn't complicated enough, you've got thirteen pirate bands of at least company size and countless smaller ones running around that are just eager enough to drag you into whatever hornets' nest they decide to poke, but whom you can't rely on for territorial defense, at all." Corvinus closed his fist. "I can't do anything about the latter. Honestly, the less I have to deal with our esteemed privateers the better," his voice dripped with disdain as he exchanged a look with Neeva that Marius didn't miss. "I can unfuck the rest. Bring order to chaos, set up an organized militia controlled by the Hegemony rather than individual patricians. Build a standing mechanized infantry division for home defense. Probably all at the same time, too. But if you want me to do this, we're going to do it my way. I'll want your word, both as my relative and as a Marian man of honor, that you'll have my back and keep the senate out of my portfolio."
"You have my word, both as Emperor and as you relative by blood," Marius nodded. "But prying the militia from the hands of the patricians will probably the biggest hurdle in that whole plan of yours."
"Ahem?! I feel like you guys are purposely ignoring me!" Neeva growled. "Corv, you were the one who couldn't yell 'Go to hell!' loud enough the last time you left the capital. And now you're ready to go back, just willy-nilly-like-that?"
The stout man back and forth between her and Marius. "I know what I said, my love. But that was then, with my cousin on the throne and me fighting an uphill battle and failing in the opening moves of it. Now this?" he pointed at the sheet of paper. "This can make a difference, Neeva. That's a proper army for a true nation, not just noble arseholes in renfair togas and 'mechs raiding people."
"Sure, and because you and him," she shot a finger at Marius, "are both O'Reillys and share your family's brick-wall stubbornness it'll all be a breeze, right?!" Neeva angrily replied, her green eyes flashing.
"If your husband can make it work, I'll always have his back. I promise, auntie." Marius tilted his head and placed the palms of his hands flat on the table.
"Oh, don't 'auntie' me like I'm some old spinster!" she snapped, but the flash in her eyes carried some humor this time.
"Well, I could always try and drag you back with me," Corv purred, giving him the look and sound of a fat and very pleased cat.
"Over my dead body. And yours, Corvinus O'Reilly." She angrily stabbed a finger into her husband's wide belly.
Corvinus just calmly took her hands into his and smiled gently at her.
"Aw hell, Neev. I'm gone half the time anyway, trying to put some sense into people too stupid for real soldiers on the one hand and corporate execs who can't find their heads up their asses on the other. And you're running such a tight ship with the estate that when I'm home I feel like I'm in the way more often than not." He gently caressed her cheek with his thumb, giving the scene the look of a high fantasy dwarf looking up to an elven lady. A grumpy one at that.
"You've always been better at setting things up than at actually running them, Corvinus," she sighed, her anger deflating. "And you make it sound as if I'm chasing you away!"
"You're not, stupid," he jovially scolded her. "But as you said, we're both good at different things. And this is my chance to be good at mine. Besides, it's just a three hour flight from here to the capital."
"And I'll make sure he takes his weekends off," Marius piped up. "Even if it means Posca will have to wheel him to the flight pad on a dolly!"
"Oh please, leave me out of this, dominus!" the slave held up his hands in mock defense.
Neeva's shoulders slumped and she sunk down on a chair.
"Fine. Fine. Now that you've all managed to ruin the mood, can we break out the wine, please?" She clapped her hands, and moments later servant in a simple long white dress arrived, carrying a tray of wine glasses, a pitcher, and a selection of snacks. She helped herself to a selection of all of it. "Just so you know, Corv: it's your fault when I get drunk and fat!"
"I'm married. Being at fault is the default setting I've gotten used to," the older O'Reilly replied without missing a beat.
"You know, I've got a lot more sheets of paper to ruin the mood," Marius deadpanned.
"I was afraid you'd say that," Neeva flicked an olive into the air and caught it with her mouth. "Well, bring it on?!"
"If you insist…," he unfolded a map from the notebook and placed it next to a stack of notes. "Posca has already seen this. I came up with it as part of my college thesis."
"A Plan for Peaceful Expansion Through Colonization, by Marius O'Reilly. And a public building program?" Neeva read the abstracts with a questioning look. "Three new systems?"
"Two now," Marius corrected her. "Just New Venice and Horatius."
"What about Herculaneum?"
"At three jumps it's too far away," he explained in an almost too flat tone. "And I think for now the money can be better spent on your husband's new task, among others." He wouldn't go back to Herculaneum. Among the things he could do to avoid repeating his fate, this was one of the simpler ones. "Anyway, the plans are rather solid, I think, but in going over them another question popped up in my head. I don't want the Hegemony just to grow in size, Neeva. I want it to grow in capabilities, too. Grow tall and grow wide, if you know what I mean?"
"Let me have a look. And have something to eat in the meantime. You look like you're starving!"
As if on cue Marius' stomach growled, and he helped himself to a smattering nuts, olives, pickled vegetables and sandwiches with tuna and smoked salmon. Halfway through his second sandwich she looked up from his notes.
"A lot of your building program can be done on a budget, nephew. In its current form it's just grandstanding, a lot of excess fat than can be cut. I'm sure the people would love it, and contractors would make a killing of it, but if I were you, I'd go for substance over form. Polished concrete instead of marble, painted tiles instead of mosaics, opulent fronts and functional interiors rather than neo-Roman pomp all over, fewer theaters and collisseums."
"Sounds fair. Now where would you put the money then?" he gulped down a bite.
"Infrastructure, on one hand. Roads, space ports, orbitals, communications, you name it. That's roughly one side of the coin. Now, I ran a mercenary company before I ran a ten thousand acre estate with half a thousand people on it. And whether it's a mech tech, an irrigation engineer or a gardener: you need people that are well trained and educated, and willing to work for a fair wage. That's the other one," she explained.
"We can't compete with colleges and universities in the successor states," Marius shook his head. Even around the time of his death establishing something doing groundbreaking research like NAIS on Alphard would have been a pipe dream.
"That's the neat thing: you don't have to. Some mandatory system of education for the general pleb population will already go a long way. Right now everybody's just somehow muddling through. Setting up a basic national school system isn't quite as glorious as colonizing new worlds or raising armies, but the dividends it'll pay will be worth it. Then add another layer on top of it. Call it vocational schools, or third level courses. Train and educate people on basic science and engineering. Set something up that'll allow you to draw deep from the plebeian masses. That eighty percent is where the true unpolished gems can be found, not in the ten percent that make up, well, us patricians. Get the people, and our industries will be able to grow organically."
Marian plebeians could apply for higher education if their grades in high school were good enough. So far only the children of patricians had almost guaranteed access. Following Neeva's idea would add an intermediate path to higher education, undermining the patricians priorisation. "It's hard to argue against the obvious merits here," Marius conceded. "But there'll be resistance from the senate."
"I suppose that's what you have to expect if you want to change the game," she shrugged. "Remember: you want this. So the real trick will be playing them against each other. I'm getting the idea that you've got a rather solid take on how the senate and my fellow patricians will react to change, any change that threatens to disrupt the cozy status quo. Play the industrialists against the traditionalists. Use the plebs to balance the patricians. Cut slices off their power, just small enough that they don't mind in the moment. Bait them with short term profits while you reap long-term rewards. If you can play them for this plan, you can play them for any other idea as well."
If only you knew, Marius thought, half darkly, half amused.
"But that'll just be the basic knowledge to repeat what others have done before them. For anything really at the technological edge, though? Fat chance," she shook her head. "You'll want foreign specialists to help out with that. But you're not going to get many. Probably none, for that matter."
"Why not?" Marius gave her a puzzled look. "Decent standard of living, especially for someone that looked after, good pay, safe streets…"
"So what?" Neeva rolled her eyes. "That's no better than the standard of living most candidates will be used to anyway. But, nephew: the Hegemony's a slave state." She could see the lack of understanding on Marius' face an let out an exasperated sigh. "Nobody's going to move here if they don't have to," she explained. "People with more than two brain cells – you know, the people you want – will take a look at Marian society and nope the fuck out," she rolled her eyes. "Here, he gets it!" she pointed a finger at Posca.
The slave-turned-advisor cleared his throat, nodding in agreement. "There is no great riddle to this, dominus. Why would, say, a Lyran aerotech engineer or graduate uproot themselves and probably their family, too, move possibly hundreds of light years – only to always be faced with the risk that if they screw up or fall on hard times there's more than just a small chance to end up as slave? For generations even, potentially?"
"Despite the common misconception we're not enslaving everything that's not climbed a tree in less than three seconds," Marius frowned. "And the things we do enslave people for are very well codified, mostly criminal offenses. Doesn't sound like much of a reason to never set foot in the Hegemony to me."
"It's a pretty damn good reason for most people outside the Hegemony," she shot back. "And the fact that it's a 'common misconception' should tell you a thing or two, too!"
"Well, I can hardly put one of the core tenets of Marian society in question just because some foreigners might get their pants in a twist because of the concept," he countered her outburst with an equal part of annoyance. "How do you imagine I do that? Ban slavery? The senate would have my head on a spike before I could finish reading them my proposal!"
"There's a reason slavery is outlawed in ninety percent of human civilization! It goes against every human right known to man, it's archaic and barbaric!"
"And yet, here you are, sitting comfortably in your giant estate run by slaves, among the slavers you despise," Marius mocked her.
Neeva looked about to explode when Corvinus spoke up, his voice bereft of his normal joviality. "Maybe we should all take a breather now, calm our tempers."
His wife rose abruptly from her chair. "If you excuse me, I'll be outside," she stated coolly and left, her dress fluttering behind her.
Corvinus' eyes followed her before he looked back at Marius, shaking his head. "Well done," he told him, disappointment dripping from his voice. "Give her a moment."
The young emperor nibbled at the rest of his sandwich, but the ravenous hunger was gone. Still, the three men continued their meal in silence before he excused himself.
Neeva Lee-O'Reilly stood outside on a wide balcony overlooking her lands. Evening had fallen and doused the valley in golden sunlight.
"That got pretty heated in there," Marius picked up two glasses from a nearby tray and filled them with wine, handing his great-aunt one with a reparative smile.
Neeva took it and emptied half of it in one go, shaking her head as she stared out across the terraces of the mansion and its orchards and fields bathed in the last glows of the evening sun. "I swear to god, sometimes I wonder how I could ever marry a Marian. You lot are as narrow-minded as medieval inquisitors!" she growled. "Yeah, yeah, I know," she held up her glass and cut him off before he could answer. "Marian traditions, part of your society, it's always been like this – I get it, trust me, I do. Never going to like it, but I can live with it, even if it's only for that pot-bellied buffoon in there who carries my heart in his hands," her face and voice softened.
"I'm glad this isn't standing between us," Marius took a sip of wine. "You know, I truly meant it that I wanted a different perspective on things. Not going to lie and pretend I agree with everything you and Corv say, but… it's good to get a different take once a while." He took a deep breath. "So, no chance on running the great Marian vacuum cleaner of oh-nine across the Inner Sphere to steal their specialists?"
Neeva gave him a mirthless chuckle, emptying the rest of her glass. "Marius, I think you're a good man. Or trying to be a good man, for what it's worth. Look at it this way: I've been a mercenary most of my life. For thirty years all I did was put my life on the line. More than once I got really close calls with the grim reaper. And the only reason I'm here today is because the man I love introduced me into national nobility." She put the glass away and looked him right in the eyes. "Now tell me, how likely do you think is it that some normal run-of-the-mill risk averse civilian specialist comes here?"
Marius had no answer to that. At least none that he liked. He turned his look back to the orchards and fields, just in time to catch the last rays of sunshine before Alphard's central star sunk behind the horizon. "You've got it beautiful here. Serene, almost. Whenever I look out of the palace's windows all I see is either the sea and its steady cavalcade of freight ships or Nova Roma's sprawl."
Now it was her turn to not react on what had been said.
"You said I was here, comfortable in my slave-run estate. What would you say if I told you there are barely any slaves here?" she looked at him.
He turned to her in surprise. "The orchards, the fields, all of that must be extremely labor intensive?!"
"It is, and don't get me wrong, we do have slaves. More than I like – which would be none –," she muttered, "but far fewer than comparable patrician households. Look, I understand you're Marian, and I'm not. Not truly, at least. So, I'm not going to make this a moral argument. Might just as well argue against breathing. Anyway," she shook her head, then pointed at her land. "Most tasks are handled by plebeians; paid employees and worker. Trained gardeners, trained irrigation techs, horse handlers, farm workers, cooks, you name it. That, or by machines."
"That sounds excessively expensive," he remarked doubtfully.
"That's the thought most patricians immediately have. Do you have more of that wine?"
He reached for the pitcher and refilled her glass.
"Thanks," she took another sip. "Already feeling it. The safest sign that, in fact, I am getting old," she sighed. "Where was I? Ah yes: all this. Would you believe me if I told you these estates generate a twenty percent higher profit than comparable patrician lands? And that our productivity is up even higher, nearly 25%? Ah, I know that look: you don't." She giggled, then sobered almost immediately. "Free people work because they want to. For themselves, for their families, some even because they think they've found their calling in a profession. They work faster, harder, better than slaves, which means we need fewer of them. Do I need to pay them a decent wage? Sure. But I don't have to house them. Feed them. Clothe them. School them. Employ a medicus for them. One free man does the work of two slaves on these fields, your majesty. And when the work is done, they go home to their family – and eventually pay taxes." She looked at her half-filled glass and put it away. "Maybe that is an angle you ought to consider? Now, lets get back inside, shall we? I'd like to enjoy the last evening with my guests and my husband before you drag him back into your pit of vipers," she smiled wryly.
Marius mirrored her smile and offered her his arm, leading her back to soft warm glow of the villa, where they left politics behind for the remainder of the evening, reminiscing about shared memories of the past.
He knew that when he returned back to the capital in the morning, it would not just be a new day.
It would be the first day of the new Marian Hegemony.
[]...early days of Marian education were symptomatic of a general disregard for the lower classes persisting on many less-developed worlds, especially in the known Periphery. For the Hegemony, Patricians ran their own system of private schools, which even today are the academic equals of privileged schools in the larger Periphery states; slaves still receive whatever education their owners see fit to give them, depending on the skills needed for the positions they're expected to fill. Education for the broad masses, however, personified by the lower and middle class plebeians, had no public funding until the reforms enacted by Imperator Marius O'Reilly early in his reign, and were fully dependent on local will, ability and finances to provide for teachers and infrastructure. This sort of official neglect led to widely fluctuating levels educational achievement and even basic literacy. While this sort of non-education is unthinkable on Terra, it is indeed widespread in much of human-settled space, including even parts of some successor states.
Imperator Marius' reforms established a two-tiered public school system, requiring all students to pass seven years of primary school and four years of high school, ending in a standardized yet rigorous Leaving Exam. Those who pass their exams within a certain percentile gain permission to enroll with the state's renowned Polytechnic Colleges, which provide a mix of vocational training and higher courses geared towards studies in the practical sciences like engineering, business degrees, and architecture, for example. Some of these may also include specialized programs like that of the Gaius Mercer Polytechnic of Nova Roma, which among others offers zero-g welding courses in one of Alphard's many orbitals...[]. – Handbook of Periphery Studies, Shanghai University Press, 3083, 6th Edition.