And many of them are right, he told himself curtly. The workers earmarked for layoff were not, by and large, low-performers. Nor were they the type of people who simply refused to fit in. No, they were merely unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. We fire so many in hopes of keeping the rest.
But that simple truth didn’t make it any easier for the newly unemployed to take . . .
A light darted over the city, heading north. He eyed it for a long moment, wondering what it was. A police skimmer? An aircar with special permission to fly in the restricted airspace surrounding the city? A shuttle? Or something else? He felt a flicker of envy for the pilot, flying away from his troubles. Peter couldn’t leave, not unless he wanted to abandon his family for good.
There was a knock on the door. Peter didn’t bother to turn around. “Enter!”
He saw Yasmeena’s reflection in the window as she approached. “Your Grace, I have continued to try to get a message to HMS Violence,” she said. “However there’s a block on all personal messages. I believe our messages remain languishing in the buffer.”
Peter nodded. He’d been surprised when Violence and his sister returned to the system. They must have pushed their drives to the limit to get back so quickly if they’d been on the far side of the occupied sector when they destroyed the Theocratic fleet. But they had . . . and he couldn’t help finding that ominous. The king presumably had some reason for calling them back home.
Kat won’t side with him, he told himself firmly. But, in truth, he was no longer sure that was true. He and Kat had never really been friends. Perhaps, if they’d been closer, he could have ensured that she was more aware of the political realities behind her appointment to the Privy Council. Or . . . He sighed to himself. Everything he’d done had seemed logical at the time but had led to crisis. She won’t turn against the family.
He sighed, again. Kat had turned against the family. Maybe not directly, maybe not to the point of working against the family’s interests, but she had committed herself to the navy and would put the navy first. She’d made that clear when they’d talked. And he understood all too well. Kat had been born to wealth and privilege, but she’d never had a chance at real power. He supposed he should be relieved she’d made something of her life. So many others did not.
“It’s late,” Yasmeena said. “Your Grace, you should be in bed.”
Peter glanced at his wristcom. “Very well,” he said. “But I won’t sleep well until tomorrow.”
His thoughts were bleak. And then we’ll see if we have enough power, in votes and force, to impeach a king.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
TYRE
Peter could feel the tension in the air as his aircar landed neatly on top of the Houses of Parliament. Armed guards were clearly visible on the streets, while police skimmers and military helicopters patrolled the air. The protesters had been dispersed; some forced to flee into the suburbs, some arrested and transported to detention camps. It would take months, if not years, to sort the guilty from the innocent. A line had been crossed. Tyre had never had to repress its own citizens before.
We had a nice planet once, he thought sourly. The next wave of layoffs was lurking at the back of his mind, mocking him. He’d have to give the order to terminate the next group soon, perhaps by the end of the day. What happened to us?
He stepped out of the aircar and nodded politely to the two guards. Parliamentary Security was on the alert, its officers wearing body armor and carrying heavy weapons. His own guards accompanied him as he walked through the door and down the long corridor towards the parliamentary chamber. It felt wrong, somehow, to be shadowed by armed guards in Parliament. Parliament was supposed to be safe.
The chamber was oddly quiet when he entered, MPs and lords talking in hushed voices. He could feel their tension, hanging in the air like a shroud. Too much had leaked out over the past couple of weeks for him to feel confident they could ram the impeachment bill through before the king could rally his supporters and counterattack. Whispers already circulated that someone in a very high place had committed treason. It might not be the king.
Duke Rudbek caught Peter’s eye as he sat down. “There’s been no word from the king,” he muttered as if the privacy fields wouldn’t keep their words to themselves. “But I’ve heard rumors that the government has been meeting in emergency session.”
Peter leaned over slightly. “What about our people? Are they in place?”
“Mostly,” Duke Rudbek said. “But you know how chancy it will become if all hell breaks loose.”
“We’ve never had to do this before,” Peter reminded him. “God alone knows what is about to happen.”
He settled back in his chair and surveyed the room. By law, certain votes could not be cast by proxy, not even over a secure telecommunications network. They had to be in the Houses of Parliament if they were voting to impeach anyone, from the lowest MP to the king himself. Peter had no idea what his great-great-grandfather had been thinking when he’d passed that law, but it had clearly been a mistake. Parliament could no longer be reckoned safe. Too many angry people were milling through the city despite the military and police presence. Some might start heading back towards
