"No Ma'am, of course not."
"You're certain?"
"Ma'am, there was no leak. His documents are fabrications, and we've no idea where he got them. But the facts, they're not accurate."
"What does that mean?"
"For one thing, we're still stable, and for another, it suggest he still has no idea what exactly he's dealing with. We will of course deal with him, but the suggestion is that the parliament is a puppet may actually be the best gift he's given us. Popular approval actually increased after he made that announcement. You could seize it, and the people would generally support it."
"Do I have any other choice?"
"Not that I'm aware of. We'll be in touch."
"Roland, I'll need a speech, in regards to the instability parliament. Its a danger to the people, you understand, Power hungry politicians. Afterwards, see that each and every member has an invitation to the court. I do still want the public's opinion. And get me the BlackGuard."
"I want the parliament sealed. After it recesses for the night, move in, erase all documents, I dont care who's they are, and set up a security perimeter. No one gets in. It becomes your base of operations, and you become secret police."
"Roland, SystemSec."
"Right Away, Ma'am"
"Ma'am?"
"I'm seizing control. This agency now reports directly to me, or it will cease to exist. Do you follow?"
"Yes Ma'am, of course."
"Right, another thing. Not one member of parliament is allowed offworld, is that clear?"
"Yes Ma'am."
Stephens exited the queen's private office with the other royal aides and made his way back to his desk, and his comm panel. A bright, up-and-coming intern from a powerful royalist family - and thus with a sure future in the Royal Court - he had heard, directly or indirectly, everything the queen had just ordered. Finally, we'll set the populists straight, he thought to himself.
Oh, he had to tell Sara - she would be amazed by his inside knowledge, before the rest of the public even knew. Yes, they'd had their problems lately - his lack of attention to her, his obsession with his work - but this, this would show her how important his work really was.
Sara, he texted silently so as to conceal his message from the more senior aides, something's about to happen...
Sara Livingston heard the soft beeping of her dorm comm, but was puzzled to see that it was text...and from Jonathan! From work? she thought to herself, knowing that with his ambition, he'd rarely risk his career with a casual call in the middle of the workday. She read through the text with interest.
Suddenly, she felt her heart stop and found it difficult to breathe. Oh no - she wouldn't! She had to call her father. He didn't know his daughter had been seeing a royal aide, and with his politics, wouldn't be too pleased about it. But he had to know about this. He helped lead the consortium that had discovered the conspiracy in the first place, something she had managed to keep from Jonathan until now. Despite his neglect lately, they were in love, and she hadn't wanted politics to interfere. Yet politics had stepped right in the middle now, and her sympathies for her family's longstanding politics prevailed over the secrecy of lovers. If Dad can do anything...
She activated her comm.
"Cambridge University. How may I direct your comm?"
"Professor Edward Livingston in Interstellar Politics, please."
"Richard!" Carlile ran out to the desk of his alarmed aide. A message had just processed through Carlile's encrypted line. It was from Professor McCullough, head of the consortium.
"Surely not..." Carlile said, stunned. "I can't believe she would resort to this." The day's session ended in only a couple of hours, and the queen's security forces would move in after that. They were almost certainly setting up a perimeter already.
"Susan, tell the staff we're heading home a bit early tonight - let them go in an hour. After you do that, grab the secure file drive and meet me in the back corridor."
"Yes sir," she said. While clearly frightened, Susan's professionalism and command soon overruled her shock, and she went to work as expiditiously as ever.
Carlile returned to his desk and tapped in a secure comm channel, a channel to an old friend.
"Richard, a pleasant surprise!" said the man on the other end.
"No time for pleasantries, old friend," replied Carlile urgently. "Remember that hypothetical we discussed the other evening? It's not hypothetical anymore. We have less than two hours."
"I see," said the other, suddenly quite serious. "I think we can handle this, but you need to get to the waste disposal centre in the building as soon as possible. I'll take care of it from there."
"Thank you," replied Carlile with the slightest hint of a smile.
The ALG freighter - the "trash truck," as the locals called it - arrived at the rendezvous point, hurried, but without incident. Within seconds, the cockpit was darkened by the arrival of a much larger vessel looming overhead.
"This is ALG Intra-System Freighter Bravo-Seven. Please identify yourself and transmit proper coding sequence."
"This is the Gateway vessel Trafalgar, ALG B-7; stand by for transmission."
"Transmission received, codes verified. We have your package."
"Very good, ALG. We are ready to receive it. You do understand that none of this has taken place, and all nav and log data is to be deleted."
"Already in process, Trafalgar; this point is practically on our regular route as it is. There is no anomaly to find."
"Very well, ALG. We thank you."
At that moment, the ALG freighter launched two cargo pods, which disappeared shortly into the small, primary cargo hold of the Trafalgar.
"This is a Colony News Service special report - I'm Juliette Browning. The royal spokesperson for Bretonia's Queen Carina has announced that the queen has unilaterally outlawed the Populist Party in Bretonia. This, one day after Populist leader Richard Carlile revealed shocking information regarding a long-standing conspiracy between the Bretonian monarchy and the megacorporations that became Bretonia Mining and Manufacturing and Border World Exports. Meanwhile, security forces of Queen Carina have surrounded and entered the Bretonian Parliament Building on New London. Our own Roger Newberger is at the scene." The anchor turned to a holoscreen behind her desk. "Roger, what is happening there?"
"Juliette, reports are still coming in," said the frenzied reporter, "but it would seem the queen's security forces arrived about ninety minutes ago. They set up a perimeter around the Parliament building, after which, according to several Parliamentary staff we've managed to speak to, top officers of the QCO - the queen's personal military detachment - entered the building along with several members of her personal staff."
"And what were they doing there, Roger?"
"Well, according to our sources, they are likely here in response to the shocking information revealed at the end of session yesterday by the leader of the opposition Populist Party, Richard Carlile. From what we've been told, the officers and queen's staff headed directly to the Media Control Room, where data chips containing the displayed information would be stored - to view or to confiscate, we simply don't know."
"And what of the members of Parliament and their staffs?"
"Juliette, we've seen a number of MP's and their staffs trickling out in the forty-five minutes or so that we've been here, all Royalists. Most seemed genuinely stunned at this turn of events, and few would even speak to us. Those who did said they were questioned with some intensity by military officials before being allowed to leave."
"Any idea what the officials were looking for, Roger?"
"Well, it seems they were asking about the members' knowledge of the recent events in Parliament, and - quite interestingly - about the whereabouts of Richard Carlile and his top aide, Susan Spencer."
"So the opposition leader is not among those being interrogated?"
"It would seem not, Juliette. Apparently, he and his aide are no longer in the building. That said, other high-ranking members of the party have apparently been arrested, though they have yet to be led out of the building."
"You're saying the Crown is arresting members of Parliament?"
"Indeed, Juliette, it would seem that way, though at this point, I can offer no direct confirmation.
"Well, we trust you'll keep us informed, Roger," said the anchor, turning back to the camera.
"Stunning news from New London, Ladies and Gentlemen, as forces of Bretonian Queen Carina have apparently taken over the Parliament building there, arresting leaders of the opposition Populist Party. We have of yet received no further word from the Royal Court on this unprecedented move, and officials from the Liberty and Rheinland governments are still refusing to comment. Of course, we will keep you informed with special bulletins as events warrant. I'm Juliette Browning, and this is the Colony News Service."
The holoscreed faded to dark. Carlile and his aide sat comfortably in the stateroom of the Trafalgar, observed somewhat anxiously by their host, Sir Alisdair Buchanan.
"Alisdair, I tell you, I did not expect this move. Yes, these new documents were a threat, but to shut down Parliament? How could she have expected this to be anything but a political disaster?"
"I'm have it on good authority that her staff is telling her your information is bogus, and that the weakness and instability of Worthington - and of Parliament, at this point - are of political advantage to her," replied Buchanan.
"Ah, yes - telling her exactly what she wants to hear, the very same practice that has misinformed her about every major policy decision in the past decade. And to think they believe I left the original data there on data chips - it's paper, for goodness sake!" responded Carlile bitterly.
No one spoke for half a minute. The events of the past week seemed occupy their every thought.
"What are we going to do now, Richard?" asked his ever faithful aide.
"I've been thinking about that, Susan. It would seem that what was legal yesterday - our politics and our representation of the people's interests - is illegal today."
"Indeed," added Buchanan, "you've been made outlaws in your own house without behaving any differently than you did before."
"Oh, there is a difference, Alisdair. Now we're a threat. If I had any reservations about the information the consortium showed to me, I have none now. The system is irreversibly corrupted, rotten to its very core."
"But how can we correct that, Richard?" asked the Gateway head.
"We can't, my friend. It is beyond mere correction. It must be dismantled in its entirety, the monarchy and the industry that supports it."
At this pronouncement, Buchanan slowly sat back in his chair. "And how to you propose to do this," he inquired warily.
"Alisdair, we're already outlaws, and that by the queen's own doing, not ours. I suggest we fulfill that calling, so to speak. We have to find a way to spread the truth about the monarchy and to advocate for a new system."
"But what kind of system?" Susan broke in.
"A system where people are governed as much by their own hand as possible, where the bureacracy - such as it is - exists at the levels closest to the people's watchful eye. Some sort of federal arrangement with the different house systems having their own governments, their own leaders who know what their own people really need."
"And Parliament?" inquired Buchanan with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes, Parliament, but not the lapdog royalist club we have now. A real legislature, a strong one, operating for the people's interests." Carlile was looking into the distance, seeing some vision of his ideals - a sight Susan was rather used to, though usually under less tense circumstances.
"But we must remove the monarchy - nothing short of that will be effective in the long run."
"And how might you do that?" Buchanan asked.
"Educating the public, Alisdair. We spread the word. We teach the people what they need to know about the system now, about what system of government we need and can ultimately have if we want it bad enough." Carlile paused. "But we must also strike at the heart of the military industrial complex that props up this queen. BMM's own workers remain abused and disheartened. Bowex continues to manipulate and exploit."
"Yes, don't remind me," said Buchanan, remembering another somewhat recent event.
"Surely it is time for those corporations to suffer what they have made so many others to suffer for so long."
"So you want revenge," asked Susan.
"No, not revenge. Justice. The injustice continues, so its agents must be shut down."
"Richard," Alisdair said, leaning forward in his seat and pressing his fingertips together, eyes cast down, "you understand that I cannot be a part of that, not directly at least. I'm sympathetic, to be sure. But these actions are...severe. I don't want violence, and Gateway is too fragile right now; I have to protect my employees."
"I know, Alisdair, I know. I promise you we will go out of our way to avoid violence. I know then that you'll support me in whatever way that doesn't threaten your employees or the innocent."
"Indeed, my friend."
"Then let us rest for now," suggested Carlile. "It has been quite a day, and we need clearer heads for what follows."
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