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THE DAY IS CRISP AND CLEAR, and bountiful with the scents of a Luna spring. The sky is the color of young fire. The trees along the promenade that leads from the Palatine Hill through the central Citadel park to the Forum blaze with color and life and pungent floral notes. Soldiers stop to salute as my motorcade rolls past. Administrators rush along park paths toward the Forum to make it there in time to watch the vote from the steps. Gaggles of children from the Citadel schools trot along in small packs, amongst them Lyria’s little nephew, Liam, his eyes gazing wide up at the trees and the monkeycats swinging from the branches with fresh sight. Though Victra took the girl, and likely has already disposed of her, Lyria’s bravery should be rewarded. I made sure Mickey himself gave the boy his sight months ago.
Lionguard greet me as I arrive at the western entrance to the Forum with Daxo and Holiday. The whole cadre of loyal Optimate senators, Golds, Grays, Whites, and half the Silvers wait with two dozen Martian senators as Daxo and I disembark. Publius the Incorruptible stands beside this group surrounded by dozens of Terran and even a few Lunese senators that I sacrificed my Silver alliance to gain. With Holiday standing watch, I shake the traitor’s hand.
“A fine day for a fine moment,” Publius says.
“Couldn’t agree more.”
I take Holiday by the shoulder and step away. “After Dancer gives me the Vox votes, the crowd may get unruly….”
“We have support legions ready to go on the field of Ares, ma’am.”
“Good.” I sigh. “This is it then.”
“Ma’am…” I turn back to her. “It must be said: It is in honor to serve a true Sovereign.”
I don’t think I can adequately explain how much that means from someone like her. I nod and step away from the protection of the Lionguard to that of the blue-cloaked Warden, guardians of the Senate and Republic.
I begin my ascent up the Forum’s Western Stairs, Daxo at my right, and the phalanx of Optimates and new allies behind in their flowing togas. At the crest, we enter the grand fifty-meter-high doors, through the stone columns onto the varnished floor. From the Southern Stairs, Vox Populi make their own entrance, Dancer limping along at the head of sixty strong senators of Red, Orange, Brown, the core of the Vox, and their less zealous allies, Blue, Green, and Violet. They carry a standard made of raw wood and ugly iron—an upside-down pyramid unadorned with flourishes. Under the watch of the neutral Wardens, the two opposing factions descend to their seats as the oceanic sounds of the crowd in the East Park lap into the Forum. The Obsidian are already seated, making it clear they stand apart.
If only all knew how far gone they already were.
I do not yet take my Morning Chair down in the center of the Senate pit. I walk around the rim of the pit to the East Door, where several stout Gray Wardens stand guard, and look down the Eastern Stairs, past the line of Wardens and anti-matter pulseShields that stretch between metal pylons at the base of the stairs, to the park below. A sea of humanity fills it, their disparate faces distorted by the shields so that they look like the confetti brushstrokes of a Frankish Impressionist. Roars of approval and condemnation lap against me. I smile. Soon they will witness the vindication of our way of governance.
* * *
—
“Senators of the Republic, you are convened today in common assembly to vote upon a matter of dire urgency,” I say from the discomfort of my chair. The senators surround me, looking down from their seats on the tiered marble steps. “Much has been made of the divide between our peoples. Today I hope to see that divide closed. A resolution has been put before you by Senator Telemanus. Senator.”
Daxo stands to his imperious height. The Optimates shout acclamation. He looks around with vibrant eyes and that clever, mocking smile.
“Being that the greater strength of our veteran legions are trapped behind enemy lines due, in no small part, to our own befuddled hands, I reintroduce that very same resolution which was voted down one long month ago.” The Optimates stamp their approval. “Prior arguments against this resolution disparaged the strength of those Free Legions.” The Optimates guffaw. The Vox rumble in discontent. “And contended that they would capitulate to the stre
ngth of the enemy before rescue could avail them. That they would fold!” Laughter from the Optimates. “That the Reaper of Mars was but a shadow of his former self!”
“No! No!” roar the Optimates.
“While the Reaper has much to answer for”—the Vox murmur agreement—“he has been embraced by the troops as the commander in the field, and it would be folly to discredit their wisdom on this day. The Free Legions live. With their victory, we can see that such…pessimism, such defeatism, such…” He wants to say “cowardice,” but a look to me reminds him to stay his tongue and preach conciliation. “Caution was unfounded. And while it is a courageous notion to hold fast our lines, to protect our spheres with all our might, I cannot see a world in which we, my goodmen, my goodladies, can rest our weary heads and look ourselves in the mirror knowing we condemned our brave fellows to death. Therefore! I reintroduce my resolution to grant the Sovereign wartime imperium over the defense fleets, so she may, in her wisdom, prosecute this war to its rightful and expedient conclusion!”
As Daxo sits, the Optimates stand with a roar. And outside, the smaller part of the crowd echoes their agreement as they watch the great projection of the Senate that streams above the Forum. But the greater part, the lowColors with their more numerous constituencies, wait for the man who has bound them together and given them a voice as loud as any Gold’s in the Society.
Dancer politely waits for the other blocs to speak.
The Silvers sit in silence. I have half their votes, if not their love, votes from those who fear my wrath outweighs their fear of Quicksilver’s. The Coppers also sit in silence. I look to Publius and tilt my head. It is his turn to stand. Yet he demurs, passing his time to the next bloc. I try to catch his eye. Something has changed. This should be where the trap springs and he denounces me. Has he made a deal with Zan?
Does he know I have Dancer?
My internal com beeps a priority message from Theodora. Keeping my face blank, I allow it through. “My Sovereign, Sevro has a priority-one message from Earth.” I instruct her to put it through to Daxo as well.
Dancer eases to his feet.
The rugged man in brilliant white looks at me with a soft smile of reassurance as I wait for Sevro’s message.
“It is good today that the weather is fine and bright. That so many of our concerned citizens parted with the rigors of their own lives, and many rigors there are, to attend this assembly, lifts my heart.” He tries hard to match Daxo’s eloquence, but is more at home with simpler diction. “How far we have come in ten short years from the darkness of Society. How many of you could envision this day? Not as some dream, but as reality? Few. Very few, I wager. Even Fitchner Barca, the father of this revolution, had doubts. As did I.” He smiles, perhaps remembering the pain of those long years with the Sons. “My fellows, you are to be congratulated for your part, small as it may seem, in making this grand experiment possible.”
He hiccups softly before continuing.
“Our union is based not on our shared past, but on our hopeful future.” He frowns in irritation as a Brown senator behind him hiccups loudly into her sleeve. “Yet, even now agents of the enemy seek to divide that…”
