Imperium's Demise, page 42
Nira interjected, “The operation will not attach your names to anything we do.”
“What’s the impasse?” a manager asked.
“Executors are divided into groups,” Tarbar replied. “Dakargk has ten executors with him, and they’re refusing to take part in meetings, which denies the assembly a quorum.”
When Tarbar had mentioned Dakargk, he heard muted squawks.
“Except for Gaketork, we’ve nineteen other executors who either have conditions for their resignations or are holding tightly to the status quo. In other words, the nineteen haven’t committed to Gaketork or Dakargk, at this time,” Tarbar finished.
“Fundamentally, we want to see the assembly dissolved,” Kreus said.
“By a violent takeover?” a manager inquired fearfully.
“No, absolutely not,” Kreus replied. “We intend to convince the executors to resign until a quorum can no longer be gathered. At that point, the assembly will cease to exist.”
“Then what?” a manager asked.
“Let’s ask it this way,” Nira said. “Who knows best how to deal with the issues of each Krackus world?”
“But we aren’t politicians,” a manager blurted.
“And look where politicians got you,” Fordark replied. “Isn’t it about time that the empire was run by individuals who cared about their citizens?”
“I think you’re asking too much of us,” a manager bemoaned.
“What would you need to be successful?” Tarbar asked.
It was a question that threw the managers off and led to many conversations among themselves.
When the discussions ended, a manager said, “First and foremost, we don’t have any experience with how the empire has operated. We need individuals to advise us.”
“A wonderful request,” Tarbar enthused.
The hall’s doors slid aside, and the world managers watched individuals walk through to join the presenters.
“If you don’t know these Krackus, let me introduce Fleet Imperators Deckus and Gretren, Imperium Engineer Ragirt, and Executor Grageth,” Tarbar said. “In addition, you’ve two ex-governors in front of you. If you would like, you’ll even have the assistance of Parvelt and me.”
“Also,” Nira interjected. “The conclave will remain until the transition is established.”
“How long will that be?” a manager queried.
“You’ll tell us when you’re ready to continue on your own,” Nira replied. “But, be aware, the conclave will continue to keep an eye on the empire. We won’t let it return to its ugly ways.”
“Does that make you feel better?” Tarbar inquired. He didn’t get assents. Then again, he didn’t hear objections.
“If you’re able to get the executors to resign, which disbands the assembly, what type of government do you imagine?” a manager inquired.
“There is only one type that the conclave supports,” Nira said. “It requires that leaders be elected by the votes of citizens. This democratic approach ensures that the populace controls who represents them.”
“You’re each appointed by the presiding executor,” Sossdest pointed out. “We see you serving as the initial government. You’d craft a constitution, which would lay out how your government would be formed and operate. At some point, you would hold elections, and those individuals would replace you. It’s best to stagger the elections across your worlds so that the newly elected could learn from those who have been serving.”
By common desire, the managers arranged their chairs in a circle, and the presenters exited the hall to give them privacy.
Much later, a manager appeared outside the hall where the presenters waited. “We’ve something to say,” he said. Then he headed back inside.
The same individual stood in front of the other managers, and he said, “We’re agreed that we’ll help you shut down the assembly. However, if that fails, then we expect to be returned to our worlds without any further action on our part.”
“Fair enough,” Tarbar replied, glancing toward Nira, who nodded to affirm his statement. “And if we get enough executors to abdicate their positions?” he inquired.
“Then we’ll help with the formation of the new government, but we expect to have everyone who is standing in front of us to be full-time advisors,” the manager replied.
The managers heard every presenter affirm that they would work continuously with them to craft the new government.
“What is it you require us to do?” the standing manager queried.
“This one is a little tricky,” Tarbar replied, and he gurgled in anticipation.
29: Secrets Revealed
As Paltur spread its rays across Imperium, Krackus citizens woke to find an unusual and lengthy message on their comms devices.
As the peacekeepers were spread around the system’s periphery and were managed around the chronometer by multiple duty rotations, crews received the same message as befitted their distance from Imperium.
Fledglings didn’t receive the message. They’d been excluded by virtue of age. Many a patriarch and a matriarch had quickly checked their fledglings’ devices to ensure that they hadn’t received the message.
For the next full cycle, the message was the singular conversation held by nearly every Krackus adult.
So, what was this message, and who had crafted it?
Borrowing an analogy from building construction, Tarbar was the architect, and the world managers were the contractors.
Tarbar knew the executors’ greatest weaknesses were their secrets, which were buried deep in the governor’s archives.
Fordark might have had access to some of those secrets, but he considered that they weren’t his to share. More important, he knew his data didn’t cover every executor.
Kreus had most of his data truncated before he was shipped to Helgart, and the present governor was precluded from sharing unless it was hacked, which the SADEs weren’t willing to do on the eve of establishing a new democracy.
Certainly, the executors’ admins knew every treacherous action, but they’d never reveal what they knew for fear of prosecution, if not retaliation.
This left only one group who possessed the knowledge of what the executors had hidden. They were the world managers.
As it turned out, Tarbar was fortunate. The managers knew multiple instances in which the executors had exceeded their authority to deal with a situation that displeased them.
During the discussions, Tarbar and Parvelt were delighted to record the managers’ recitations.
The beginning of the first message systemwide employed something the pair learned from their time with the broadcasts. They told the Krackus that if they didn’t believe what they read then they should query the governor and ask if the data was valid. As a matter of course, the governor would stipulate one way or the other as long as it didn’t reveal the original material.
This first message cited three executors and revealed three tawdry secrets for each one of them.
The planning foursome had decided that one executor should be Dakargk’s associate, and the other two would be the uncommitted executors.
When Gaketork read the message, he realized why Tarbar chose not to share with him. If the messages continued, there might come a time when his secrets would be revealed. Although, considering what he’d just read, he didn’t think any of his past indiscretions would reach the level of audacity exercised by the first three executors.
Dakargk’s associate squawked when he saw his name listed in the message. Then he choked on the information revealed. It wasn’t long before he received calls from friends, associates, and strangers. No one commiserated with him. Some callers did ask if what was in the message was true, but the majority pointed out that the governor had specified that the data was accurate.
After wading through some thirty callers, the executor connected to Dakargk. “How is this happening? Has the conclave breeched the governor?”
“As far as I can tell the governor isn’t the source of the information,” Dakargk replied. “Have you asked yourself who else knows what you did?”
“There are two or three for each secret that was divulged,” the aggrieved executor said.
“Any consistencies?” Dakargk pressed.
After a few minutes to think, the complaining executor responded, “Just the world managers.”
“Most of who arrived in system a few cycles ago,” Dakargk pointed out.
“But they would never say anything. They know better,” the complaining executor returned, but he didn’t sound entirely sure. Worse, he heard Dakargk’s ugly gurgle.
“You don’t understand, Dakargk. Ten of us joined you because you said that you had the means to preserve our positions and restore our incomes. Citizens knowing what I did will destroy my credibility. Already, my mate looks at me as if I’m a monster, and these aren’t even my worst secrets.”
“But we are monstrosities by varying degrees,” Dakargk returned. “Perhaps, you’ve been hiding from yourself, and it’s time to take a good long look in a mirror.” Then he closed the connection.
Afterward, Dakargk reread the lengthy message to understand the tactics behind it. He noted that one of his associates had been targeted but two of the other executors’ secrets had been revealed. It was obvious that this was the opening salvo, and he thought on how to deter it.
However, Dakargk would be slow to react.
Unlike the broadcasts that dripped out to give time for the citizens to absorb them, Tarbar and his friends intended to create a deluge.
By midday meal, Imperium received the second exposé of three more executors. The third iteration of the exposures dropped by evening meal and the fourth by late evening.
Within three cycles, every executor’s greatest nightmare had come to fruition.
Tarbar and the team had saved Rebtar, Dakargk, and Gaketork for last. The primary reason was that Gaketork’s errors in judgment hardly compared to the ugly machinations of Rebtar and Dakargk.
On the fourth cycle after the exposés started, Gaketork assembled the executors for a meeting. As expected, Dakargk and his ten collaborators didn’t show. Although, their admins sat at the ready.
Outside, citizens had gathered in the tens of thousands, and more packed transports were arriving every minute. The crowd was in an ugly mood and chanting for the executors to resign.
Assembly security refused to confront them. In fact, most had slipped out of their uniforms, turned in their batons, and exited by the building’s rear doors.
It surprised the executors, who heard from their admins, that a mixed group of conclave members and Krackus biologicals and digital sentients stood between the throng and the building. More surprising was that the citizens were respecting the thin line of protectors.
Gaketork opened the meeting by saying, “I have it on good authority that the messages revealing our secrets will continue until the information possessed by the authors is exhausted. It’s anticipated that will take another eight to ten cycles.”
Soft squawks were heard all around.
The admins glanced guiltily at one another. Despite their reluctance, they had kept the executors’ secrets. Now it seemed as if those efforts were for naught.
“Something must be done,” an executor moaned.
“Perhaps, if you had the means to send all of us back in time, we could have the opportunity to behave differently,” another executor retorted. Then he sent a message to Gaketork and his admins that he’d prepared.
“I accept your resignation,” Gaketork announced, which shocked the dais.
Then the assembled executors watched one of their own stand and leave the dais, with his admins following him.
At that emotionally charged moment, another Tarbar missile struck every device.
The meeting was on pause while everyone read the newest exposé.
Two executors squawked loudly. They were featured prominently, and the actions revealed were more dastardly than the ones previously mentioned.
“Gaketork, does your source mention that if we were to resign, then no more of our secrets would be exposed?” one of the aggrieved executors inquired.
“That’s what I’ve heard,” Gaketork shared.
“You’ll have my written resignation when I return to my office,” the executor replied. Then he too exited the dais with his admins.
“The same for me,” the other exposed executor said, as he left the dais.
“That’s three more of us,” an executor lamented.
“Not exactly,” Gaketork corrected, which drew orbs to him. “Last evening I received the resignations of four executors who have been allied with Dakargk.”
“Then we’re at twenty-four,” an executor remarked.
“For now,” another executor grumbled. “What will our count become as the cycles pass and the messages continue?”
The executors were dreading midday meal, which was when they expected another message to drop.
But Tarbar and his friends had a different idea. Gaketork’s meeting was the perfect opportunity to spread pandemonium.
When every device signaled an incoming message, several individuals fumbled and dropped their comm units.
To the chagrin of everyone, it was another group of revelations. The only relief felt was by those who weren’t mentioned in the latest barrage.
However, two more executors announced they were tendering their resignations and strode quickly off the dais.
Gaketork’s device chimed, and he checked what he’d received. “Another Dakargk associate has joined the ranks of the resigned,” he announced. “Providing I receive the notices that I’ve been promised, our count will be twenty-one. When I’m assured that the resignations are registered with the governor, I will be following these individuals. That will make the executor count twenty. As such, this assembly can’t field a quorum or fill the empty seats. It will cease to exist. I don’t wish us good fortune. We don’t deserve it. This meeting is adjourned.”
The dais executors sat woodenly, as they watched Gaketork exit with Dojjdret beside him. To those who could see the pair’s countenances, they appeared pleased, which confused the observers.
At his residence, Dakargk simmered. His support had been cut in half with five executors having resigned. Although, he had one thing in his favor. While the assembly could form, it would lack a quorum.
Later, Dakargk received a message from an assembly insider that five executors during Gaketork’s meeting had also resigned, and Gaketork promised to follow them. With a quick head count, he realized the conclave had won. The assembly had no means by which to form a quorum. Essentially, it couldn’t function.
While Dakargk considered the means by which to gain control, he had to wonder who would want the territorial seats now. A call to Rebtar to discuss options ended quickly. Rebtar announced he was retiring — another term for resigning.
As the cycles continued with more secrets revealed, executors continued to tender their resignations. They had to file them directly with the governor. Gaketork’s and his admins’ offices were vacant.
When word spread about the assembly’s dissolution, the civilians cheered.
There was one last message for Tarbar to craft. It suggested to the civilians and the naval services that an interim government should be formed. A link was provided to a document on the governor asking for approval of the world managers to form the new government with the aid of their advisors, who were listed. It stressed that with the conclave’s help, a democratic process would be employed. Future leaders would be elected for civilians and serve for limited periods of time.
That document was sent by Cremsylon to the Tridents orbiting the Krackus worlds and placed on the world managers’ servers.
Thirty cycles from the receipt of the document were allowed to register the votes.
Admittedly, there was a great deal of indecision about the future, and civilians questioned their world manager’s offices. When those answers fell short of expectations, the citizens turned to conclave members.
Planetwide conversations were held while a host of senior conclave individuals explained the nature of governments responsible to their people. They were blunt that there would be growing pains, citing the disastrous means by which the executors had let the Krackus populations ride the backs of the suborned races.
Before the thirty cycles eclipsed on the most distant Krackus world, Sathus, the votes in favor of the interim government led by the world managers had exceeded sixty-eight percent of Krackus adults.
From messages the world managers received, they realized the one thing that had calmed the voters the most was that the document they approved promised that the new constitution must be ratified by a two-thirds majority of adults.
On Imperium, the world managers convened in the academy hall to plan how they would go about drafting the new constitution.
“Do we have any immediate needs?” a world manager inquired.
“Focus on your economic and social conditions first,” Fordark advised. “Ensure those are stable.”
“The conclave is handling the majority of our populations with the distribution of credits to the outer races,” a manager pointed out.
“And what about those other races?” Kreus queried.
“What can we do about them right now?” a manager replied.
“Your fleets still patrol about half the territories,” Deckus said. “And you’ve more than that number sitting on the periphery of this system.”
