Chapter 15: The rise of the Socialists
Note: This update begins a few minutes after the last one ended; you may want to read the last portion of that update to get caught up.
26 November 1868, office of the military correspondent of the Roman Times, Rome
Arturo Orsatti, the Minister of Security, could hardly control his laughter. Michele Zinna, the military correspondent, had been a private in Arturo's squad right after Arturo became a Lieutenant; even then, he'd been a jokester, and Arturo made sure that Zinna had gotten promoted whenever he did. Zinna never quite made officer, since not everybody appreciated his jokes, and he'd lost his right leg in a battle. That meant he was discharged from the army, but while being a great storyteller might have been a liability for some in the army, he made a fantastic journalist. A timid knock on the door interrupted their revelry. Zinna rose to answer the door. "Lieutenant! I am so sorry; I must have lost track of time. Minister Orsatti, a pleasure as always."
The Minister shook Zinna's hand and turned to leave, but stopped for a moment on the way out the door. "It's Marković, right?"
The sailor who'd just entered nodded. "Yes, sir. Nikolai Marković."
Orsatti opened his briefcase and handed the Lieutenant a file. "I think you'll be interested in what this has to say. One of my agents got this from Sarajevo. A hero should have a name, don't you agree?" The Minister of Security smiled cryptically and left.
Nikolai, remembering his manners, fought to open the file and put it under his chair. He looked up at Zinna, who had a pad of paper on his desk. "Sorry, Mr. Zinna. I'll look at this later."
Zinna shrugged. "If you want to look now, I can wait. There might be something good in there for your story anyway."
"Are you certain?" Zinna nodded; that was all the excuse Nikolai needed to tear open the file. As he read the first page, his eyes grew wide.
Name: Alekseyev, Nikolai Bogdanovich.
Birthplace: Sarajevo, Bosnia provincia
Date of Birth: 19 March 1840
Father: Alekseyev, Bogdan Sergeyevich, Russian diplomat, based in Sarajevo. Born 5 September 1780 in Vladimir, Russian Empire, died 15 October 1839 in Sarajevo of natural causes.
Mother: Alekseyeva, [last name before marriage unknown] Nina Andreyevna, Bosnian prostitute. Born 19 July 1791 [birthplace unknown], died 19 March 1840 in Sarajevo of natural causes, childbirth related.
Recorded date of marriage: 1 August 1838.
Notes on subject: Belongs to Jacobin revolutionary cell based in Palermo. Date of membership unknown. Fluent in many languages, skilled in hand-to-hand combat. Primarily an assassin; 10 confirmed kills, more suspected. Currently assigned to target Guillermo di Marco. Agent 5679-9048 (Alessandro, Cristoforo) will pose as di Marco's son. Second to navy for duration of assignment. Orders: Gain confidence of subject Alekseyev. Ascertain means and method of assassination. If possible, recruit Alekseyev; subject is not an enthusiastic Jacobin and may be willing to defect.
The remaining pages in the file contained almost every single activity Nikolai had participated in since his birth. His father was already under surveillance, as were all Russian diplomats at the time of the civil war, according to the file.
A past. It may be sordid, but I have a past, for the first time! Before Nikolai closed the file, he noticed a handwritten addendum on the last page.
Subject is enlisted as a naval officer as of 1864. Further surveillance is terminated. Relevant biographical data will be forwarded to Marshal's office for entry; all other records are marked for deletion. -- Arturo Orsatti, Minister of Security.
He gave the file to me, but ordered it destroyed, so it would be removed from the records. He has done me a great kindness. I have a proper name now, and a father to be proud of!
Zinna waited until Nikolai put down the file. "Did you learn what you needed to?"
Nikolai grinned and nodded. "I'm ready, sir."
"Wonderful. Please state your name for the record."
"Nikolai Bogandovich Alekseyev. Lieutenant, Roman Navy."
Zinna raised an eyebrow, but continued with his questions. "Our readers are somewhat familiar with your history; Minister Orsatti briefed me on what I could say and what I could not. Let's talk about your assassination."
For a brief moment, Nikolai froze. Then he caught his breath.
The assassination of me, not by me. "Well, sir, I'd hardly call it an assassination, as I appear to be breathing."
Zinna laughed at that one. "Very good, Lieutenant. Your
attempted assassination."
Nikolai did his best to remember what happened. "Let's see. The Admiral caught my attention. He wanted me to interview one of our Mexican prisoners. I remember somebody grabbing me, whispering something into my ear, and then he stabbed me three or four times."
Zinna checked his notes. "According to one of the officers on the
Da Vinci, it was 'True Jacobins do not fail in their tasks.'"
Nikolai shrugged. "That could be. I was sort of preoccupied, you understand."
The journalist smiled, then went to his next question. "Did you recognize the person who attacked you?"
"No. But then, I wouldn't have. Discipline within the Jacobins is very strict; I didn't even know the names of the people in my own cell, apart from my direct superior, and he's already been arrested. His Latin was perfect with no accent, which means he's educated; probably a native Italian, although not necessarily. Most Romans speak Italian in their everyday lives, as you well know." Zinna gestured for Alekseyev to continue. "He was taller than me, although there aren't many who're shorter. Other than that, I have no idea."
"What happened next?"
Nikolai smiled faintly. "The idiot tried to throw me overboard, into a boat he had. Unfortunately for him, my leg caught on some netting. A couple of sailors saw me go over and pulled me back up. They fired at the boat a couple of times, but he'd already gotten away. The Admiral decided he wanted the Jacobins to think I was dead, so he hid me below decks for a while."
Zinna whistled in appreciation. "Smart guy, the Admiral."
"When the
Da Vinci returned to Rome, they left me in Jamaica. The Admiral wanted to make sure that I was going to be safe, and so he had me work at the naval base there. I was there until February of 1866. I was promoted to Lieutenant by the base commander and was attached to a supply ship going to provide food and supplies for our soldiers in Mexico."
"Sounds relatively normal, but you washed up in Houston in" -- Zinna checked his notes thoroughly -- "June of '66. What happened?"
Nikolai laughed. "A storm. A simple storm. I got pitched over the side and must have hit a rock or two. I have some luck." Zinna laughed too, then Nikolai went on. "Next thing I know, it's August of '66. I start to remember everything a couple of months later, but by then, I've 'joined' the army. I stayed there until the peace was announced, and now I'm here."
Zinna sat back in his chair and paused for a few moments. "That is one hell of a story, Lieutenant. I think you'll be on the front page, for sure."
Nikolai gasped. "You think so?"
"Definitely. Anyhow, it was nice to talking to you, Lieutenant."
Nikolai shook Zinna's hand and made for the rail yard.
I've got to get to Palermo so I can get back on a ship. Who knows when war might break out again?
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16 December 1869, office of the Minister of Security, Naples
Arturo Orsatti threw the newspaper down in disgust, and called for one of his deputies. The first to answer was James O'Connor.
"James, why in the hell do I keep reading this stuff in the papers?"
O'Connor was an easygoing sort, and in most cases would have made a quip and shrugged, but his boss looked angry. "We're doing the best we can, boss, but we don't have enough people with the Jacobins."
Arturo swore and threw some papers on the floor. He eyed O'Connor, who looked properly cowed. James had been part of the Foreign Ministry as a clerk for quite a while, and had gradually worked his way up. Of course, unbeknownst to his superiors, he was also an agent for the Ministry of Security. His job at the Foreign Ministry had been to analyze diplomatic correspondence to see if they could find Jacobin strongholds overseas. James had done fairly well -- he was instrumental in shutting down a cell in Puerto Rico -- but ever since Bismarck became Foreign Minister, he'd had access to less and less data. For whatever reason, Otto didn't trust James, and so Arturo had recalled him. James was now #2 in the Roman ministry as First Deputy Minister, although many of the Station Chiefs -- the departments were renamed to "stations" a few weeks earlier -- had more seniority.
Arturo glared at O'Connor for a few more moments, then surprised his deputy by sighing audibly. "I would give a lot to know who was the head of the Jacobins here in Rome. I truly would."
James nodded sympathetically. "So would I, sir."
"Hand me the military updates, if you would."
James handed over a sheaf of papers. The most recent trend had been improving supplies to the legions; a new system of Military Plans had just been completed, with the distribution of the breech-loaded artillery to all regiments have been finished in January. The next step was firming up Statistics, so that the quartermasters could get the right supplies to the right troops at the right time.
Arturo scanned the rest of the pages without too much incident -- the official promotion of Nikolai Alekseyev to Lieutenant Commander made him smile -- and then asked James directly for the foreign news.
"First, our expedition to the Nile has had no luck. Thankfully, they returned without incident, but they've already requested more funding from the Senate."
Arturo scoffed. "2000 £ is a trifle; I'm sure the Senate will agree."
James nodded in agreement. "Moving on to recent conquests, Norway has taken Greenland and Iceland from Hamburg, Mexico has taken parts of Indiana, Tennessee, and all of Kentucky from Newfoundland, and German Pan-Nationalists have taken over in Bavaria."
"Have we stopped their intrusion into our territory at Linz?"
"Yes, sir. The Americans have also proclaimed that their 'Manifest Destiny' is to claim all land up to the Pacific. This will surely lead to war with Mexico."
"Which means we'll get called in." Arturo groaned. "First the Russians use us for their ambitions, now the Americans. When will they help us?"
"I'm sure I don't know, sir. I do have a thought on to why there was a Jacobin rebellion recently, however."
Arturo looked at his deputy with a little more respect. "Go on."
"This." O'Connor tossed a newspaper on the desk.
"I signed that order myself, James. These criminals must be kept in seclusion from good, hardworking members of society. Otherwise, how can we protect our citizens?"
O'Connor, being of a more liberal bent, thought carefully before responding. "Is it not better to rehabilitate than to punish? We might convert some of these criminals into productive citizens if they are given the chance for freedom."
Orsatti was unconvinced. "Men will do much for freedom, that is true, but one thing they will especially do is lie."
James considered pushing the point farther, but realized he was unlikely to get anywhere. "Perhaps you're right, sir. Is there anything else?"
"Not for now. Send orders to the legions to drive out these rebellious fools as quickly as possible."
"Yes, sir."
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2 January 1871, office of the Marshal, Florence
Trajan looked with satisfaction at the newest model of the Roman machine gun.
He was less happy that the newspaper from the day before had a detailed expose on the machine gun and its capabilities.
This stuff should be kept quiet! It's that damned 'free press' law the Senate passed. There's no more office of Censorship!
The Free Press Law, enacted by the Senate on 27 October 1870, was a reaction by some of the
Agricolares, who'd been waiting for a chance to push this particular issue. The announcement of a second failure to discern the source of the Nile had generated a lot of anger; even though the sums were immaterial, the socialists continued to demand that the money was surely being misspent, and therefore that a proper accounting should be made, in public.
A second, smaller, Jacobin rebellion and a popular rumor that the excavation efforts in Egypt were 'cursed' convinced the conservatives and liberal to go along with it. For once, Bismarck and Trajan agreed on the issue, but it came to nothing.
The very first article penned by a socialist in the Roman Times -- he'd signed his name only as "Scriba", or "scribe" -- insisted that funds stop being provided to the "overly large and authoritarian army" for new "tools of repression." Instead, the author exhorted new efforts be made in organic chemistry; well-lit streets would reduce crime, while more efficient fuel could make machines much more efficient.
Trajan knew some of these discoveries had military implications too, but he'd been hoping for a new, modern cavalry corps. To Trajan, it just wasn't fair. The smallest faction in the Senate had far too much power, and with support by the liberals and even some conservatives, there was really almost no contest. As a member of the Imperial family, Trajan had no official faction affiliation, but he did have an institutional affiliation, and the socialists were his biggest threat, as he saw it. Trajan scanned the newspaper for the official results from the previous day's election.
Liberals: 40 seats
Conservatives: 39 seats [20 Pecuniares, 19 Militares)
Reactionaries: 14 seats
Socialists: 7 seats
Trajan grimaced. His brother had warned him that, if the Socialists got 10 seats, he'd have to give them a spot in the cabinet. Right now, the cabinet had one
Protectores (Bismarck), two
Pecuniares (Vickers and Disraeli), one
Militares (Orsatti), and two
Provincares (J.S. Mill and Cato). If Trajan did have a faction, he'd be
Militares. That meant that the three largest parties controlled the cabinet, as it should be. Trajan liked most of his fellow cabinet members, except Disraeli (too formal) and Bismarck (too crazy.)
Even Bismarck at his craziest was better than a socialist; that was Trajan's worst fear.
A fear that might come to pass.
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21 November 1871, deck of the Da Vinci
Lieutenant Commander Nikolai Alekseyev didn't have an official role on his ship. He had plenty of sea duty, but hadn't really displayed any aptitude for any particular job. He was a naval officer whose best skills were writing and hand-to-hand combat; the navy had plenty of use for the former, but not the latter. Unfortunately for Nikolai, communications at sea was still handled by flags and signal lanterns. Eloquent writing in multiple languages was not a requirement for such communication. The XO typically used Nikolai wherever he was short handed, to get him experience at working at multiple duty stations, so at the moment, he was in charge of gunnery. Nikolai wasn't a great mathematician, so he relied heavily on his subordinates to get the job done, like any good officer.
Nikolai observed from the main gun as yet another Roman ship sank into Galveston Bay. "Gunny, why can't we hit the Mexicans?"
The gunnery sergeant spat over the side. "Sir, it's the Commodore in charge of the wooden ships. He insists they can still be useful, but the Mexicans are eating them alive. They're blocking our fire -- we'd be as likely to hit them as we would the enemy -- and so we have to stay quiet."
Nikolai swore in frustration. Like a lot of Romans, he resented the fact that the Romans were pulling the heaviest duty at sea in this war against Mexico. The Americans had fine infantry, which was good for them, but that wasn't very helpful when ship after ship got torn apart by coastal artillery and the Mexican navy.
The upside of this was that Nikolai didn't have much to do. He had his men run a drill and left them in the capable hands of the gunny while he went to the wardroom to report for his next assignment. He saluted the XO as he entered.
"Afternoon, Nikolai."
The XO was a British gentleman from Leeds named Thomas Wilson. "Afternoon, Tommy."
"Heard about the latest expedition to the Nile?" Nikolai shook his head. Tommy grinned. "It looks like we finally made it."
Nikolai let out a small cheer, and was about to reply, when the Admiral walked in. Roberto Filomarino, from Corsica, didn't really talk so much as growl his orders. "Gentlemen, have no choice but to retreat. We're going to Port Charles for now. Wilson, go talk to the communications officer and have him signal the rest of the fleet. Alekseyev, you'll write up the official report. I want it on my desk by the time we reach land."
Both officers nodded. After the Admiral dismissed him, Nikolai went to the wardroom and began to write. The navy had suffered a blow, to be sure, even if the losses were all wooden ships.
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18 May 1873, Imperial Palace, Rome
Emperor Constantine XII smiled as he read the letter from Prince Ferdinand. Ferdinand was 15 now, old enough to formally begin his duties in Constantinople, and he was writing almost every other week about the new sights and sounds. It was good to feel secure, with two sons of his own and Trajan's wife -- the daughter of the American President, Nellie Grant -- was also pregnant. The Farneses would rule, God willing, a while longer. With that thought, Constantine's smile faded.
Perhaps I should say 'Mob willing.' The costly defeat at Galveston Bay had provoked a bitter reaction from the people of Rome, who were furious that Rome was fighting America's battles. The massive expenditures in the army and navy -- two corps of seven brigades each of Hussars for the army and a new fleet for the Caribbean, composed of 20 ironclads and 10 monitors -- hadn't helped either. The legions were getting the bulk of research funding, despite critical advances in civilian technology, such as Cracking.
The army's major research programs -- the Hussars and a more systematic program of risk management -- attracted a great deal of resentment, especially when so many Romans either didn't have jobs or were paid insufficiently.
The Senate had voted for a controversial program of secret ballots for elections, but that wasn't enough. The socialists started to agitate more and more.
When no government aid was forthcoming, the socialists formed their own newspaper, the
Rubrum Astrum, or "Red Star." The editor -- who went by the name of
Veritas, or "truth" -- started his new paper with a bang, decrying the violent breaking up of trade unions by Roman legionaries.
In January of 1873, the Socialists totaled nine seats in the Senate. If not for the seizure of Houston a few days later, and Mexico's capitulation in the war, the Senate might have won an impressive victory in the May elections that determined who would be Chancellor.
As it was, the socialists were a small but loud minority in the Curia. As Chancellor Disraeli had guessed, most of the farmers and soldiers turned out to be conservative, which prevented the socialists from naming their own Chancellor. Even better, the
Agricolares could fairly be excluded from the government. There were no cabinet changes, which did please Constantine, who favored stability more than anything.
The only question was, how long would he have it?
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That's it for another update. I may try to get another one done later this week, so keep your eyes peeled!