DIPLOMATIC EFFECTS / CH. 27:RESCUE MISSION
MILITARY AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL, WESTERN RUSSIA, 9.30, MONDAY 24TH MARCH
“Flight Romeo-Golf-one-five-zero to area thirty air traffic control,” Svetlana said into the radio, “Please acknowledge that you are expecting me in your airspace.”
“Negative, flight one five zero. Please state present location and flight plan, I do not see you on 'scope.”
“Flight plan is lodged, area thirty control, as of five minutes ago. I am at flight level forty kilometers, entering your airspace from the north in three minutes. You have until that time to update your records and apply special procedures set twenty-seven Tango. Please scramble air superiority escort immediately and alert my specified destination.”
“Flight one five zero, I'm new and not familiar with any of that, sorry. My superior officer has had to step out of the control booth.” Official rules of course said he shouldn't be there alone, under any circumstances, but his officer seemed to like chatting to a young woman who worked on the floor below.
“No problem, area thirty control.” Svetlana said, “Please open the transparent cover on the military emergency panel you have probably been told to never touch, and press the big green button marked 'friendly' and then the big red button marked 'scramble'. There will be an audible alert signal. When your superior returns at a sprint, tell him 'Twenty-seven Tango incoming North' before he strangles you and then get safely out of his way.”
The new recruit gulped and opened the cover as instructed. He had a reasonable guess who the calm young woman forty kilometers up might be, and whatever twenty-seven tango meant, it was clearly more significant that an normal flight. Lifting the cover had sounded a warning buzzer, which rather grated on his ears. OK, he could cope with that. He pressed the green button, which stayed down. Shrugging to himself, he pressed the big red button. The buzzing stopped, which was a relief. Outside, the military airfield's air-raid sirens started to wind up and he heard the automated message shouting 'Scramble! Friendly.' over and over again. He imagined that the 'friendly' bit was a comfort to the jet pilots.
“Control,” Svetlana added, “If your controller doesn't get to you before you see the fighters moving, then start repeating 'Twenty-seven Tango incoming, North.' on this channel, every ten seconds this until they're all off the ground.”
“Thank-you, flight one five zero.”
The door burst open just as he saw the first fighter start to move. “Twenty seven Tango incoming, North, sir.”
“Any more details?”
“Flight number Romeo Golf one five zero, forty kilometers up. Still nothing on her flight plan, but she says it was lodged, urm, six and a half minutes ago.”
“That's the civilian aircraft screen,” his officer said. And then said the alert code into the microphone. “Press the 'M' in the corner.” Reading the flight information, he whistled. “Full military escort, helicopters, drones, ten kilometer restricted airspace. That's a serious royal visit there. Pick up that green phone, dial that number beside the destination, and read what's on the display to whoever picks up. A couple of times. You might as well add the flight-profile says Mer spaceship and the and pilot sure sounds like the Tsarevna.”
“Twenty seven Tango incoming, North. Romeo Golf one five zero, I presume you're descending to meet your escort?”
“Hello, flight control, you owe that lad a medal, I see the escorts coming. I'll meet them at Mach two, twenty thousand meters.”
“Mach two, twenty thousand meters, affirmative, Romeo Golf one five zero. We have your flight plan. Twenty-seven Tango, incoming, North. Flight two three two please alter course to bearing two seven zero to avoid temporarily restricted airspace.”
“Two seven zero, confirmed.” Said that pilot. There were another dozen to reroute.
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GUILLEMOT ONE, 9.32 A.M
“What does 'twenty seven Tango' mean?” Adam asked Svetlana.
“The twenty-seven codes mean a V.I.P. is coming. Tango means don't ask who it is.”
“Is it normal that an air traffic control tower in the hands of someone who needs telling what to do?”
“It would earn the officer on duty a court martial for dereliction of duty if I made a formal complaint, which I would have done if the escort hadn't been launched. The question is whether anyone who replaces him would do differently, so I'm currently thinking he's had his shock and it won't happen again.”
“You might be right, daughter, but by not even registering it happened, you encourage an attitude that says 'I can get away with it', and indiscipline within air traffic control could lead to a disaster. What your grandfather would have done is demand that an example be made of him and his superior officer for letting it happen. Remember that how you react determines the attitude of the military towards you and their duty.”
“What would you do, father?”
“When I was your age, I was lenient like you want to be, which led to debilitating stress for the officer, not knowing if he would face disciplinary action, a firing squad or if he'd got away with it. Clarity is better.”
“So I report him, knowing it might end in a firing squad?”
“You report the incident, trusting his superior officers to know the situation better than you do. You may, if you feel the need, attend the court martial and speak in favour of leniency, and if you feel it's warranted having heard the whole case, issue a royal pardon. You should also follow up with your medal recommendation for the trainee. And if you wake up his superior officer now, and request that the medal ceremony and court martial be first thing this afternoon, you could accomplish it all while I'm having my chat to Pyotr. The net result is that discipline is reinforced, you don't undermine the officers, and no one has to worry about what's waiting for them tomorrow.”
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MILITARY AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL, WESTERN RUSSIA, 10.00AM
“You blithering idiot,” the base commander said in summary.
“Yes, sir.”
“Talking to your girlfriend when you're the officer of the watch? Again?”
“Yes, sir. I get fuzzy sir. Can't concentrate. A little chat with Tasha helps.”
“Her imperial highness the Tsarevna will personally present a medal for diligent service to young what's his name this afternoon, and then personally attend your court martial on the charge of dereliction of duty. She says she prefers the idea of sorting it out quickly so that there is no debilitating uncertainty and everyone can get on with their jobs.”
“Am I out of the army, sir?”
“No idea. Expect something between a formal reprimand and the firing squad.”
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QUEEN KARELLA'S HOME, ATLANTIS, 9AM
“Hello Yelena, you look nervous.”
“Allow me to show you a message I just got, your majesty.”
Karella read aloud “'Ye'na, it looks like Spike is the only witness to who wanted a contract on someone with supporters here and a very important friend. Spike convinced client to accept prison, rather than bullet. VIF has just heard, so prisoner is about to be released, unaware of risk. Any news there on Spike et al.? Y.' Who's Spike?”
“She was pregnant so you sent her to the empire's Pacific coast. Mostly she sold weapons, but occasionally she arranged assassinations, or manufactured evidence against people.”
“I see.” Karella said.
“I don't want to go back to that life, your majesty, to those ambiguous relationships. But...”
“But nor do you want to have this unjustly convicted prisoner to be released to his family only to then be assassinated,” Karella interpreted.
“No. And if you did know where Spike is, and were willing to send someone to get her testimony... I don't know, she might listen to me more readily than any Mer.”
“And you'd like to see her?”
“I... I guess so. We didn't get on very well, but... I'd like to know she's OK.”
“I check up on them once every few weeks. She and her husband are living near a hot spring in Kamchatka. Their colleague died from a bear attack. As far as I was able to work out from their thoughts, they'd been reading the book of Job, and he said something offensive about God in response to the verse where Job's wife suggests he could always curse God and die. The next morning the bear walked round them and then charged at him, so they attribute his death to divine retribution.”
“And her child?” Yelena asked.
“Sadly, she had a miscarriage after they'd been there a month. She probably ate something mildly poisonous. I do not know we did the right thing leaving them there, so far from the life they knew. I had assumed they would walk along the coast to the nearest fishing village. It was about three day's walk from where they were left, but instead they left the coast and didn't go near it. They have been hunting and fishing in the river near their hot spring. During the darkest months of the winter they were making plans to seek civilisation when the longer days came. Now they think of improving their hut. It was the same a year ago.”
“How did they survive the first months?”
“We'd planned to leave them further South, with less equipment, but there were too many towns and villages. In the end we decided on Kamchatka. They were left with food for two weeks, low temperature survival gear and tents.”
“And a Bible?”
“And a Bible,” Karella agreed. “I'll think about it for a minute or two,” and silence filled every corner of the room for a while. “It is decided. Lara and Harry will take you, by guillemot. Try to convince your old friend to leave their idyllic home and give evidence to protect Squirt's philosopher friend. As we hoped, they have come to faith, and their sins are washed away, so they may come to Atlantis while they consider their future. Tell your old friend that I mourned with her fourteen months ago and have convinced the council I will not face the probability of doing so again. But if they do not return, I will no longer watch over them, in case of hunger, illness or broken limb. They won't find a submarine-delivered pig next winter.”
“You sent a pig? Thank you. I'll tell them,” Yelena agreed.
“If you want to take your husband, I won't object one bit, by the way. Kamchatka is a beautiful place. Not that you'll see much of it, it's half the planet away.”
“Urm, might my government have something to say about us invading its airspace?”
“Hmm. Maybe. Feel free to submit a flight plan while you're on your way, but don't delay, they're still awake.”
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KAMCHATKA, 10PM LOCAL TIME
“On the one hand,” Harry said, “I'm glad we submitted the flight plan. On the other...”
“Their initial reaction wasn't exactly encouraging, was it?” Yelena said, grinning. “I'm glad you don't mind me commandeering your submarine for Secret Service purposes, Lara.”
“You think quickly,” Lara complimented her. “And I'm glad you have good contact with your ambassador. He might need to do some talking to smooth over the difficulties that will arise when we we return to Atlantis and I tell them that you took over my submarine.”
“Urm... please don't say that, Lara,” Mikhail said, looking pained. “Since Yelena can't fly one of these, and stayed a long way from the controls, saying she took it over might give a horribly wrong impression.”
“You can't have it both ways,” Lara said, “Either this is an international rescue mission organised by the Mer government, or it's a Secret Services covert mission. It can't be both.”
“Lara, you're being much too black and white here. It's a Secret Services covert mission in cooperation with the Mer government under the guise of an international rescue mission. Quite what Harry's doing here, I'm not sure.”
“Lending credence to it being an international rescue mission, and ensuring that the guise of it being a Russian Secret Services operation is seen as the bureaucratic whitewash that it is. I'm just glad he doesn't want us to get our passports stamped.”
“Oops. I didn't translate that bit, did I?” Yelena said. “We'll need to stop off in St Petersburg on the way home, if that's OK. When you next talk to Karella, could you please ask her to try to get a message to Yuri about what we're doing?”
“I thought she'd be guiding us in,” Harry said.
“Why should she?” Lara asked. “We've got a map. We're going just there,” her fingertip covered an area of about a fifty kilometers square.
“That's sort of what I was afraid of, yes.”
“I presume we've got lights on this wonder-sub, yes?” Yelena asked.
“Yes. Why?” Lara asked.
“Oh, things like letting other air-traffic know we're here, now that we're not in space. Plus actually lighting up the ground when we get there.”
“Oh all right. We can scare the other air-traffic if you want us to.”
“What other air-traffic?” Harry asked.
“That plane we've just passed behind,” Lara said, matter of factly, “Don't worry, I saw it and took evasive action. But we're going down quite quickly, you see.”
In the hut, 'Spike', who'd been given the name was Freya by her parents, was trying to fall asleep. But her back was sore and her arms were sore and what was worse, they had no indoor plumbing and her husband was already asleep.
Nightime trips outside were a thing to avoid, especially alone, with the uneven ground and various animals that came out at night to hunt.
It was a quiet, frozen night, and the moon was trying to shine under the door, she saw. Which of course meant that cold air was getting in too. She got up to move the furs, and then stopped. The moon never shone through the door like that, and anyway, the shadows it was casting were shifting. “Wake up!” she said, poking her husband.
“Why?” he mumbled.
“Odd lights. Might it be some kind of patrol?” They'd seen a military base, with very unwelcoming signs, during in their first week, and decided it would be far safer to go in the other direction.
“Hope not,” he replied, springing to his feet and grabbing his hunting weapons. They weren't going to be much use against armed soldiers, but if they were going to run, he wanted them.
She heard voices. People chatting, in English. Why would Russian soldiers be chatting in English? “Tourist group, perhaps?” she whispered.
“Some kind of nature film crew?” he whispered back, “But why are they moving around in the dark anyway? Don't they know about the bears?”
They didn't need to pull on any clothes, since they were fully dressed against the cold; the hut kept the wind off, and some heat inside, but it wasn't much above freezing.
“Hey! Spike, Tibor!” Yelena called, “Yuri wants to know who wanted to get Pyotr Yureivich arrested or dead. Other domestic news is I'm married to his excellency the ambassador to Atlantis, Antonina's apparently having too much fun as the captain of the guard's fiancée to set a date yet and Squirt's falling in love with Grand Duchess Nadiya of Kaliningrad. Oh, and Queen Karella says you can come back to Atlantis while you make some decisions, since they accept as a legal reality that new live you've got in Christ.”
“And you're drunk?” Freya asked back.
“Not as far as I know. Is it warm in there? Because much as I'd love to spend all night chatting through your door, it's freezing out here, and we came in a hurry so I'm seriously not dressed for this weather.”
“Why in a hurry?”
“Didn't want to spoil your beauty sleep too badly. Pyotr's about to be released by the Tsar, and we didn't want him dead before he's had time to address the Imperial University.”
“Why don't you want the Tsar dead?”
“I meant Pyotr, but there's been a whole heap of changes going on, and I'm getting tempted to put the Tsar in the good-guys category,”
“No way.”
“He counts Yureivich as a friend, Spike, think on that. If you can tell us who the class-enemy who put you up to killing the guy is, then I pretty much guarantee the Tsar will shred him.”
“Her.”
“Who'd have thought I'd leap to sexist assumptions. Who was it?”
“Her ladyship the Baroness of Kursk. Her useless sniveling son was the judge,” Spike said, still from behind the door.
“Now, if you could just say that holding hands with a truthsayer I've got with me, we'll leave you in peace. Unless you want to leave your lovely frozen paradise, in which case saying it in St Petersburg would be better. But if you are tempted to stay, Karella's given me something else to say.”
“What's that?”
“Can I come in? I'm freezing and it's not the sort of thing to shout, really.”
“OK, come in. But just you,” Freya called.
“Why, Freya?” Tibor asked quietly.
“Because I still paranoid,” she replied.
“Next question, where's the door?” Yelena called, “I can't really tell door from wall from out here. What is it? Deer skin?”
“On the outside, yes. Furs on the inside. This way.”
“Nice,” Yelena said, stepping inside, and looking around.
“It's a hovel,” Freya said.
“No, it's a home, made with love and not many resources,” Yelena corrected. “It's good to see you, Spike.”
“Freya,” she corrected.
“Freya, Tibor, Karella says she's been checking on you every few weeks. She mourned deeply with you fourteen months ago and has convinced the council she will not face the probability of doing so again. We need to go stop off in St Petersburg on the way back to Atlantis whatever happens, and you're welcome to get off there. Or you can come to Atlantis while you make up your minds where to go, but if you stay here, she won't keep watch, because then it'll be your decision. She won't make sure you're not hungry or sick, or stuck with a broken leg and unable to hunt. Nor will she be sending a pig by submarine next winter.”
“The mer brought us that pig?”
“I guess so, well timed?”
“We got raided by a hungry bear while we were getting some firewood,” Tibor said, “damage to the hut and food stocks gone.”
“Unpleasant.”
“Terrifying. We were pretty sure we'd starve before we saw any game passing and freeze if we went out looking for it.”
“So, are you going to come with us, or stay?”
“Who's the us?”
“Me, Mikhail,” Yelena started.
“The ambassador?”
“and husband, like I said. Lara Knifetounge, it's her submarine-spacecraft, and Harry, her husband, who's a diplomat at the embassy for the Restored Kingdom.”
“Big guy?” Tibor asked.
“Ex-bodyguard, yes. And Lara's quick with the carving knife too. Or to discuss Plato.”
“And that's it?”
“Yes, that's it.”
“There's a flaw in your story. How are you going to get her high ladyship arrested?”
“Hey, the Secret Service pay me and Yuri wages, why shouldn't they get some orders from one of us from time to time to make an arrest or two? If you'd be prepared to swear to what you told me in front of Squirt's girlfriend, especially with an imperial truthsayer involved, then so much the better.”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“What's an imperial truthsayer?”
“New arm of the Tsarevna's anti-corruption drive. The truthsayer organisation now has a charter and a voice at court. Anyone can go there and make a sworn declaration. Oh! You probably missed that the Tsareiovich has been disinherited, didn't you? Svetlana's a lovely idealistic Christian, but not in a gullible way. She's very mature for her age.”
“You sound like you've met her.”
“I have. We've eaten together a few times, and she was at my wedding.”
“You're really still talking to Yuri and hob-nobbing with royalty? At the same time?”
“Oh yes,” Yelena smiled. “I can tell you a state secret if you like. Don't let on though. It'd get some people very upset, probably killed.”
“Go on.”
“Yuri and Natasha got married two days after Svetlana's funeral. The Tsar attended.”
“You and Yuri are really Secret Service?”
“I never signed up. I honesty hacked my way into my position, but it was at Yuri's suggestion.”
“So it counts?”
“I thought, when I got that medal from the Tsar for that screwdriver thing, I am so going to get burned to a crisp if the Tsar finds out I'm in an anarchist collective, undermining the system. But it turns out he was secretly sniggering at what his grandad would have thought of giving medals to anarchists.”
“You're making that up, aren't you?”
“Me? I'm quoting the Tsarevna. Coming back to Atlantis, or going to try to get back in to the collective?”
Freya looked questioningly at Tibor, who said, “I don't think the collective's the right place for us now. I think we're more thinking of settling down and letting our family grow. I don't suppose you know anyone who wants a handy-man who's pretty good with a hunting spear or other weaponry, do you?”
“Hmmm. Not your normal sort of job, but maybe it fits the Mer model. Like I said, Karella's invited you to Atlantis.”
“And if we're leaving, any chance we can take these furs?” Freya asked, “Curing them took a lot of work.”
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COURT MARTIAL, 2:30PM
“Permission to address the court?” Svetlana asked, after a rather damning set of testimonies against the man who had been on watch.
“Certainly, your highness.”
“While I'm just a civilian and only here as an observer, it seems to me that there's another issue that ought to be addressed. Do not regulations call for there being two watch officers at all times?”
“Well, yes, your highness. But staffing levels are very short, everywhere.”
“How much overlap is there?”
“Overlap?”
“How many hours of the day are there two fully qualified watch officers?”
“None, imperial highness.”
“And what is the shift pattern according to regulations?”
“According to peacetime regulations, maam, an officer would be having a fifteen minute break every two hours, with a total shift length not exceeding eight hours. Wartime regulations allow ten hour shifts with minimum breaks.”
“And the watch offer's actual shift pattern?” Svetlana prompted.
“Ten hour shifts, maam. With minimum breaks.”
“Has someone declared war without telling me?”
“No, Imperial Highness.”
“And the purpose of the fifteen minute breaks?”
“To allow the mental recovery of the controller, maam. Stress relief.”
“What was the purpose of your conversation with the young lady, watch officer?”
“Talking to her helps me relax, and stay sane, your highness. I get fuzzy after three hours without a break.”
“Could these sanity-saving conversations have occurred in the control tower?”
“Urm, I guess so, yes, Highness,” the prisoner answered.
“It has long been known that if the break is not total, it would not be as effective stress relief, Imperial Highness,” the base commander said.
“I presume that wartime shift pattern is in use at all centres?”
“Yes, Imperial Highness, I believe so. An emergency training and recruitment drive is underway, but progress is slow.”
“How long does training a new recruit take?”
“To become fully qualified?”
“To become as capable as the watch officer under investigation?”
“Three years, Imperial Highness.”
“Does the young lady concerned mind being a source of stress relief?”
The prisoner glanced towards the small gathering of well-wishers.
“Not at all, highness,” a woman there answered, blushing at the attention. Svetlana guessed she was about the same age as the watch officer.
“Commander, can I suggest that some creative solution be found that leaves watch officers both able to be contacted at a moment's notice, but also allows them to stay focussed on their work? Perhaps a small rest area in the stairwell for private conversations or other forms of relaxation? I believe I've even seen photos of beds positioned in control towers during war situations.”
“Imperial Highness, might I have a word?” the base commander asked.
“Certainly commander,” Svetlana agreed.
Outside the court-room, he said, “Highness, I don't want to lose this man too, but it's happened before, I've warned him, but he does it again. I understand his trouble — I used to get very fuzzy at the end of the shift myself, and mistakes when you get fuzzy are more common — but... there's no question of his guilt, surely? I can't just let him off with a reprimand, can I?”
“On the contrary commander. I think that the parameters he's been working under have demanded creative solutions to an otherwise dangerous situation and if only he'd been a bit more creative he'd deserve a medal. As it is, he'd probably have been derelict of duty to stay at his station and he's on trial for taking the type of breaks that regulations see as critical except during times of war, when as we all know there are other motives to stay alert. I see the long-standing failure of deviating from regulations as the main fault. You've dismissed others?”
“They've been transferred into other branches, highness. Normally infantry.”
“When it takes three years to train their replacement?”
“Yes, highness.”
“How well do they enjoy life in the infantry?”
“I don't imagine they'd do well, Imperial Highness.”
“My suggestion commander, is that with the other ATC commanders you institute a case by case review panel, assess their delinquency and after an appropriate time amongst the infantry you offer them the opportunity to reapply for their previous posts, down a grade or two of course, but with opportunity for promotion? Of course you'd need to clear my suggestion with the chain of command and work out the details with them, as I have no formal rank, but I think it might help significantly with your recruitment problem. Which quite simply is a strategic weakness I hope our enemies never get wind of.”
“And those who are now civilians, highness?”
“A case by case review, would be my recommendation, commander. Taking the gravity of the offence into account, but in no way into account who is a friend or relative of whom. Call it a disciplinary review panel, remove names and any personally identifying comments, and make the thing entirely anonymous and you'll have my complete support. I would have far more objections to continuing the current policy than to hiring a civilian contractor or two, especially if they resigned from the service rather than were court-martialed out of it.”
“And I may present this as your highness' recommendation?”
“You may, commander, if you think it will be helpful to have a twenty-year old civilian girl's name plastered all over it.”
“Thank-you for your outside perspective, highness. I must confer with the other judges.”
“Of course, commander.”
“But may I ask, your highness, is the prisoner in any way known to you? Not for my own peace of mind, but in case the others ask, you understand.”
“I understand. He gave very polite yet and precise instructions over the radio this morning, commander, and I heard him giving similarly precise commands to other air traffic to establish the restricted airspace. Beyond that positive impression, his name was not familiar to me, and I have no knowledge of his family connections.”
“Thank you, imperial highness.”
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COURT MARTIAL, 3:00PM
The external judge, a semi-retired infantry commander, stood up to read the verdict. “The judges have considered the actions of the prisoner, and the circumstances surrounding it. We find that dereliction of duty has occurred: dereliction by the recruitment and administration staff who have allowed this situation which affects our nation's ability to respond to war-time threats to persist, year in, year out, and dereliction of duty by the chain of command for not treating this situation as seriously as it deserves. As the prisoner in the dock was taking less breaks than are required by regulations during peace time, we reprimand his superior officer and apply a fine of two week's pay for failure to ensure the proper application of regulations in a safety-critical task. The prisoner is found not guilty on all counts.”
After the judges had left, Svetlana found herself facing the watch officer's girlfriend.
“I thought you were going to end his career, highness. Sorry for hating you when I thought that, and thank you; thank you for getting this sorted properly.”
“It's not over yet, there's still not enough flight controllers, after all.”
“But the problem isn't going to be buried, is it? Not now? Not after this judgement.”
“No. For one thing my parents will be curious about what happened.”
“The Tsar knows about this court martial?”
“His Imperial Majesty suggested that I attend, and hear the case, so that if I felt it appropriate I could grant a royal pardon.”
“But... the complaint came from you also. I don't understand.”
“It is far better, father felt, to face justice and be certain, than to have the uncertainty of whether punishment will fall on you. And of course he reminded me that indiscipline in the military is not something the empire needs, and failing to report it would have been encouraging an attitude that says regulations and laws don't matter. I'm glad he was found not guilty, as an individual, but I hate to think what this decision means for air-traffic control.”
“Imperial Highness?”
“If there are simply not enough controllers, and as this becomes known the commanders feel they must allow proper rests periods, what happens?”
The woman was not dumb: “Trained individuals end up being on call during rest periods, sleeping in control towers as you said, imperial highness, while less trained individuals deal with routine cases. Or senior officers take shifts. Or air traffic stops overnight.”
“You can see why the war-footing rules were allowed, can't you?”
“Yes, imperial highness. But if proper breaks will be enforced, or even half-shifts, perhaps people who resigned might return?”
“Do you know anyone like that?”
“Me. I can't concentrate for a full shift. They said it would come with practice,” she shrugged. “It didn't come after a month, if anything it was getting worse, and I didn't want to cause an accident.”
“I didn't catch your name, sorry.”
“Svetlana,” she said.
“Well, one Svetlana to another, I suggest you ask your commander about returning to active duty in the control tower on a part-time basis. Making sure you're off duty for the appropriate fifteen minute slots in someone else's rota, of course.”
“Yes, that could be rather tricky, couldn't it?”
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KURSK HIGH COURT, 5PM.
“Baroness Kursk, firm evidence has reached me that you are responsible for imprisoning a woman in her home under a repealed law.”
“Your Majesty, I'm sorry, I must have missed the announcement,” the baroness said glibly. She was a stern woman of about sixty, and had only worn black since the death of her husband in somewhat suspicious circumstances two decades earlier.
“It was announced while you were studying law, baroness. I'm certain your lecturers would have told you your text books were in error, or they would have displeased my father. Which could have tragic consequences.”
“Yes, your majesty. Displeasing your father was not wise,” the baroness agreed.
“Nor is it wise to displease me, baroness. Though perhaps I'm more tolerant than father, and more instant on due process occurring. So, let me list the other accusations that I have in front of me. You are accused of commissioning a hurried trial which directly resulted in a miscarriage of justice; of fraudulently arranging a philosophical debate; of using your power and influence to prevent adequate representation of an accused man; of denying under oath the issue of a debating permit; and of pressuring a judge — your son — to wrongly reject testimony. In short, baroness, your accusers say you perverted the course of justice. Would you like to answer these accusations?”
“The man is well known for denying the philosophical basis for Tsarist rule, your majesty! It would be an utter waste of time for a full investigation into the exact circumstances of his arrest. Yes, I told my son to get a move on, but I'm sure the wilder accusations against me will be found to be as flimsy as a house of tissue paper after a proper investigation.”
“Ah. So baroness, you feel that my old friend Pyotr does not merit the benefit of due process but you do? I'm actually in favour of everyone getting due process, so you will have your due process, but do try to not waste the court's time. We both know what the result of a fully fair trial will be, don't we baroness? And, the accusations I've made so far are relatively mild, actually. You are further accused of attempting to commission an assassination, and according to a number of reliable sources, each testimony given under examination by Imperial truthsayer, it took rather a lot of persuasion by the person who you were negotiating with for his death to change your mind.”
The colour had drained out of the duchess's face at hearing the Tsar mention the word 'friend', but at the mention of the other charge against her, she collapsed.
One of her maids went to help her, and, not seeing any signs of conciousness, checked her pulse. There wasn't one. Uncertainly, she addressed the court and said “Her ladyship often said that if her heart were to stop, she had no desire to be resuscitated. In the circumstances, may I beg your majesty to not insist on due process?”
“I will not insist on due process for the baroness. I will, however require it for her son.”
A thirty-year old man, who'd entered the courtroom's gallery late, stood and said “I do not insist on wasting time money and effort, Imperial Majesty. Nor do I wish to cause uncertainty among my mother's staff. I knew what I was doing when I perverted the course of justice, just as I knew what I was doing when I contacted the arms dealer, just as I knew what I was doing when she asked me to quietly bury the poison she'd fed my father to stop him beating me. I could never refuse my mother anything after that, and have long resigned myself to my fate.
“Let the barony be declared vacant, Imperial Majesty, but for the sake of the people, let it be filled soon. The people here do not like uncertainty, mother has long trained them to fear that. There are other crimes, other abuses of power. I have kept careful records, and it will be a relief to put them into the proper hands. For my part, I beg only that my death be as painless as possible.”
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SVETLANA'S SUBMARINE, 6PM
“And then he just sat down?” Svetlana asked.
“Yes. No attempt to evade arrest at all,” the Tsar said.
“And will his death be painless?”
“I don't know,” the Tsar said. “I don't even know if he's actually sane.”
“Does that make a difference?”
“Sort of. If he's insane then he doesn't escape the death penalty for perverting the course of justice, or his home being bulldozed. But it might mean he doesn't need to be in it when it happens. The nice thing is that he's not actually lived in the baronial mansion for a long time.”
“If the baroness had been tried and found guilty, what would have happened?” Pyotr asked.
“The new baron or baroness would have needed to build a new house.” the Tsar said, matter of factly. “It's happened before.”
“How is a new baron or baroness chosen?” Alexandra asked.
“When there's no one to inherit the title? There's a very long waiting list of people who think they deserve it — younger sons or daughters who feel they need some title — and a much shorter one of people I think deserve it. Of course, whoever is exercising the ducal authority gets to do most of the selection work. If everyone expects it, then there's a complicated selection process thats gone through, and a short list is drawn up, long interviews a demonstration that the candidate can think like a baron or baroness, that sort of thing.”
“Thinking like a baroness,” the Tsarina added, 'of course not meaning thinking like a self-serving power-grabber, but taking a dispassionate view over what's best for the people of the barony.”
“Like closing the steel mill, for instance, because it's inefficient and polluting and slowly dying anyway, and using the site and its infrastructure for a power station, a specialist alloys plant, and a food processing and packaging plant?” asked Alexandra.
Adam groaned, “You and your grand schemes, sister.”
“Tell me why the food processing plant,” the Tsarina said.
“We've got high-tech industries, but not everyone can work in high technology. An alloys plant would take the top people from the steel mill, but the unskilled or semi-skilled labor would have no where to go. Food processing and packaging is labour intensive, best done near the source of production, and at the moment Kursk is exporting its agricultural production for packaging elsewhere.”
“And the power station?” the Tsar asked.
“The steel mill provides surplus heat for homes. A power station could do the same, and make the electricity supply more reliable, which would help all the local industries, especially the high tech ones, and the alloys plant.”
“Pyotr, I'm sure you have a comment at this point,” the Tsar said, “about how this demonstrates the common people have the good ideas and then the nobles never listen, is that right?”
“You know me too well. But in this case, the late baroness ran a schools competition every year, and gave a prize — you'll allow me some parental pride, I hope, to gloat over my Alexandra winning three times — but then the baroness did nothing with the ideas it generated because the late baroness owned half the shares in the steel mill.”
“And it's those skills in background research and presenting your ideas that has now made you think of journalism, Alexandra?” the Tsarina asked.
“Yes, your majesty.”
“And Adam, what are you studying, and why?” the Tsarina asked.
“I'm studying politics your majesty, for the rather disrespectful reason that I'd like to know if my father's really right.”
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ST PETERSBURG UNIVERSITY, 8PM
“Students of this University, staff, family members, and the few others who have managed to sneak in because you pulled strings,” the Tsar said. “That must stop. Pulling strings to flout rules is one of the biggest problems facing our empire. Failure to prosecute corruption because the prosecutors are corrupt are yet another. But I do not believe these are the biggest problem. I think that the terror that innocent people have of seeking to have laws enforced is by far the biggest. When you don't report a crime, you reinforce the criminal's view that the law has no power. When you don't stand up for your rights, you condone the one who tramples over them. And you have rights. Today, my daughter demonstrated that times are changing. Although I have the power to crush all opposition, I did not come with a tank aimed at the accommodation block, as my great-grandfather did. “I am not saying that I will never use the power I have, indeed I have exerted my sovereign choice a number of times today. But let me tell you some things you might find shocking: I have never ordered the arrest of a man I was not fully certain was guilty of a serious crime. I have never ordered the arrest of someone to shut them up, and I know of no political prisoners in this empire.
“So if you know of someone who you believe firmly to be a political prisoner — that is to say someone who has been imprisoned for joining a political party, for registering their desire to form a political party or for stating their deeply held beliefs in an intellectual debate or within a meeting of a political party to which they belong, then let me state these are not crimes, and you should approach a noble who you trust, the imperial truthsayers, or a senior official of this university and present their case.
“We have many political parties in this empire, some, I'm sure, would surprise you. A great many have aspirations that are not compatible with the status quo. Only a very few — shockingly few — have been banned outright, though there are a number which have limitations on their activities. But you know, I am sure, the plagues of our society; it's entirely possible that someone has over-stepped their authority, that the judge was bribed, or that the judge wanted a bribe but didn't get one.
“I, and my father before me have been attempting to stamp our these forms of corruption, and someone who claims more authority than they have should expect trouble, and a corrupt judge has signed their own death warrant as has any who attempt to use their connection to the throne for advancement. There is a new law in force, making the preferential treatment of students because of connections or lack of them a criminal act rather than just a matter for internal discipline. It is also an illegal act to ask a student who they are connected to with a view to treating them differently or for staff members to hold such discussions.
“Do not look the other way. Report it personally via a high noble you trust or anonymously via a sworn declaration at a branch of the Imperial Truthsayers. They have no need to know your name. If the staff and students of this university will not stand up for one another against this form of corruption, then you are actively opposing the will of your Tsar. Be aware that that will have consequences.”
“You will have noticed that each time I told you to approach a noble, I stated it should be one you trust. Regrettably noble blood does not make people automatically resistant to the perils of corruption. It just makes their punishment harsher. If you have evidence against a noble, you may make a sworn accusation at the Imperial Truthsayers.”
“Today, many of you, I hope, will have read the article by one of your journalists, in which she announced this lecture, and made a personal plea to have grades that reflect ability not connections. She also wrote about how she had been given a choice — to write about interviewing me without mentioning her family connections in any way or becoming known as someone who will fight corruption whenever she sees it. She felt her story needed the personal involvement, and I accepted her oath on this matter. What she possibly did not realise is that the oath I required of her to resist corruption was not in any way unique to her. Alexandra Yurovna, who is more properly Alexandra Petrovna, come and join me at the microphone, please.”
A very confused Alexandra left her seat beside her parents and went up on the stage.
“Alexandra, how do you expect people in the wider world to know you will fight corruption? Do you somehow think all will read your article?”
“No, Imperial Majesty. But if they don't read my article, they will not know of my connection to the throne.”
“You surely know the power of rumour? No, it will not do. You have sworn an oath of nobility, Alexandra, and done so for noble reasons. So, I take this opportunity to raise you to that status, and incidentally win a debate I once had with your father. I name you Alexandra Baroness of Kursk, that title having fallen vacant recently and it being a place you are familiar with.”
“I-i-imperial majesty! I never wanted.....” Alexandra stuttered.
“Do not worry, baroness Kursk, your father can tell you about all sorts of political systems that thrust people into power without preparation or desire, and how they're preferable to ones which thrust people into power who just have the desire and no training. With the title, of course, I lay a stern duty upon you, to consider the needs of the people of your barony above your own. I'm sorry if that duty ruins any cherished plans you might have had, but I believe you will do well, and that those who will look to you for leadership will be glad of this day, once you've settled in. You do, of course have a lot to learn about your duties, but we will not expect miracles from you, only prudence. There will be people pressing you for decisions, probably from tomorrow morning. My advice to you is take careful note of who is asking, and what they're asking for, and then apply a good deal of cynicism about why they're demanding decisions from you so quickly, before you're settled in. Return to your seat now, baroness, I do not expect false expressions of thanks for turning your life upside down.”
“Nevertheless, imperial majesty,” she curtsied, “I thank you for the trust you have shown me. I will attempt to not fail in my duties to the people of Kursk.”
“And I will attempt to not fail in my duties to you, noble baroness,” the Tsar said with a little smile.
Getting back to her seat, she quietly asked her mother, “Did I say something wrong, mother?”
“No, Just most people would probably have said something about their duty to the Tsar, at which point I expect he'd have reminded them of their duties to the people too. In which case you just stole his line and he's probably thinking what a good choice he's made. Now, listen to the Tsar and expect your dad to embarrass you.”
“I can't wait,” Alexandra said.
“The power of the Tsar,” the Tsar was saying, “is not an absolute. It has limits, for instance you might have noticed that it reduces significantly outside the empire's borders. Nor is it as unchanging a thing such as the laws of physics. Though, I notice that our friends the Merfolk have found a loophole in the law of gravity. So, there are geographical limits, and there are other limits too. You will have noticed, I'm sure, that although we have truthsayers now, able to determine truth from lies, we have no laws requiring someone to give up their ability to think what they like, in fact the imperial truthsayers are required to keep what they learn from stray thoughts secret. “It is the nature of all rulers who are not despots to set limits on their rule, allow freedoms to their subjects. I am not so foolish as to try to limit freedom of thought. It is the nature of all sensible rulers to aim for peace within their borders. Having tried democracy with its inherent problems of short-term thinking, unconstrained greed and the myriad opportunities for corruption, our forefathers — in particular my forefathers, took the same decision as other nations, to end the age of chaos and return power into the hand of a monarch. Some nations have chosen to limit the power of their monarchs by constitution, but that has never been Russia's way, so I have the power I have, the authority I have, and I do not propose to step away from my duty to use them where necessary to ensure this empire does not return to chaos once more.
“The worldwide return to monarchy was not driven by philosophy, but by a pragmatic desire for peace and stability. But that does not mean philosophy is a spent force. It is good to have idealists, to remind us of where we could change for the better, as long as we do not forget the lessons of history. That, and here I address my daughter, is the role of a monarch, especially a Tsar or ruling Tsarina: to balance ideals and pragmatism, to strive for perfection, while not ignoring the destructive forces of greed and the lust for power. So now, I invite you all to listen to a man I have long known as an idealist, and I count as a friend, but do not anticipate that I will enact everything he says, or even anything of it. I'm much too pessimistic about how close we stand to a return to chaos to do that. After all, it was lawlessness and corruption that put him in prison and fear of speaking up that kept him there.”
Pyotr, looking haggard, stepped to the microphone. “You'll forgive me, I hope if my speech is not well honed. And firmly put in my place as no more than a goad and an idealist and peddler of unpractical ideas, perhaps I should give up now. But I can't. Because I am an idealist. But I also see that human nature is corrupt, indeed, how can it not be, tarnished by the power of sin? We benefit from a benevolent Tsar, and the Tsarevna shows great promise. But, speaking practically, how benevolent would your son have been, your majesty? You've raised my daughter to the nobility, but what guarantees to the people of Kursk have that she or whoever comes after her won't become a despot? You speak of stability, but where is the stability in one man or woman's whim? Is it not the power invested in whim that causes people to fear? Is it not the power of whim that leads to good people not speaking up in favour of right? Only a few minutes ago you warned people that by giving in to their fear of the power of whim that they'd suffer your more direct anger, and yet you say you don't want people to be afraid. Which is it, mighty Tsar? If you want less fear in this land, should you not agree to a constitution that elevates written and published law above anyone's whim, including your own? Would that not be a little less schizophrenic?”
“Ah Pyotr! It's good to hear your passionate arguments in favour of a constitution. But I have a question for you, my friend. What is a constitution? Must it be a document which brashly proclaims itself a constitution on the top? You must be aware, I'm sure, of the laws I've passed in the last decade that place limits the powers of nobles to interfere in the lives of normal people except through duly constituted laws and the courts and institutions that enforce them. There surely is your guarantee against your daughter becoming a despot, and if you find that there is some loop-hole, by all means let me know, so it can be closed. And I invite you my friend, to read once again those laws with fresh eyes, unblinded by suspicion and assumption. Your daughter told me of some interesting suggestions she'd made, earlier today. I invite you to read those laws and tell me how she, indeed how the previous baroness of Kursk could put those suggestions into effect. And then think further. As my daughter said this morning, if you look closely, you might see that things are not what they appear at first glance. Perhaps both of our daughters should re-read those laws carefully? After all, they form the basis of their relationship.”
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