by S. H. Jucha
When Harbour regained control of the audience, Dorelyn announced in a clear, strong voice, “There is nothing in the station’s articles that precludes the domes from building ships, and the commandant was right to allow us to engage a ship’s architect.”
“And while we’re talking about the commandant,” Harbour shouted, before the audience could erupt, “I would like to ask Commandant Strattleford why he’s not supported the completion of the present intravertors nor begun work on a deployment platform.”
“These aspects are still under review,” Emerson stated officiously.
“For months?” Harbour shot back. “Who are the people reviewing these projects? What’s taking them so long to communicate to topsiders their decisions? And how much coin is in the capital construction account?”
“These are official matters, Envoy, and not for public announcements,” Emerson replied. He hated using Harbour’s title, but he didn’t want to rile the investors and captains any further.
“Whose side are you on, Commandant … ours or theirs?” Harbour asked, with heat, pointing to the three family heads sitting with Emerson.
“That accusation is uncalled for,” Dorelyn fired back, while Emerson sat stunned by the accusation.
“Because you’ve chosen to reply for the commandant, Dorelyn,” Harbour said, the controlled anger in her voice evident, “I’m putting the council on notice. Your hardline stance of insisting on property rights in exchange for your funding of intravertor deployment is unacceptable. It’s the opinions of the explorers, which I share, that we won’t unconditionally distribute the rewards we’ve earned.”
“That’s not why you were elected, “Rufus snarled.
“You forget, Rufus Stewart, I wasn’t elected,” Harbour riposted. “I was chosen by Her Highness Tacticnok. The explorers are prepared to make Pyre’s needs the focus of the Jatouche and Tsargit gifts, providing our conditions are met.”
“We don’t even know what the rewards will be,” Idrian objected. “How can we judge the worth of your conditions without knowing what we might receive?”
“You can’t know,” Harbour replied, “and I don’t care if you have to make decisions in the dark. That’s what the families have been doing to stationers and spacers since they erected the first dome and established the El. If you want to share in the largesse that will be coming our way, then the families need to contribute to the Pyrean Green fund and enable the completion of the intravertors, the building of a deployment platform, and the construction of a JOS–Triton shuttle.”
Emerson had regained his equilibrium, and he announced forcefully and in a higher octave, “These are not proposals you can make to this group in this meeting, Envoy. Submit your requests in writing to my office. They’ll be considered in due time.”
Harbour laughed loudly and rudely. Her warm contralto voice had an effect on many in the audience. “Thank you, Commandant. You reminded me of my final point.”
“And that is?” Emerson asked, walking into Harbour’s trap.
“For refusing to reveal the station’s accounting and failing to fund the intravertor projects, I suggest to this audience and all topsiders that we need a new commandant.”
“You can’t do that,” Emerson shouted indignantly, his voice breaking.
“On the contrary, Commandant Strattleford,” Henry shouted over the din. “It’s in the station’s articles. It’s just never been done before … until now.”
Those who heard Henry laughed in delight.
Emerson tried shouting at Harbour, but he was speaking to her back. She marched out of the auditorium, with her people following close behind. To Emerson’s dismay, much of the audience filed out too. Apparently they’d been present just to see the contest between those seated at the table and Harbour.
“Where to now?” Jessie asked Harbour quietly. She signed L-I-A-M, and Jessie nodded.
Harbour stopped in the middle of the station’s prestigious central corridor, and said to her followers, “I thank you for your support. If you’re wondering if I was serious about electing a different commandant … I am.” Her comment elicited cheers. “I’ve private business to conduct. So, I’m inviting you to go about your business and share the discussion that took place in the auditorium.”
As the group dispersed, many took a moment to thank Harbour for her support of stationers and spacers. Her people waited patiently for orders. When Harbour’s small team was alone, she said, “Lieutenant, Aurelia, you’re with Advisor Cinders and me. Captain Bassiter, let the Belle’s complement know that they’re free to visit the JOS.”
Jessie spotted his captains standing at the rear of the group, and he walked over to them to speak privately. “Downtime for the crew on the JOS or the Belle,” he said. “For the time being, I want all ships kept local.”
When Jessie dismissed the captains, Ituau lingered. “Yes?” Jessie asked.
“I received my captain’s sharing,” Ituau said, “and I’m stunned.”
“You earned it, Captain,” Jessie replied, “but I’ll warn you that the envoy learned there were injuries and wasn’t too happy about the report.” He was pleased to see Ituau, who had a history as a free-wheeling individual on downtime, taken aback by this pronouncement. “You might share that with the other captains,” Jessie added and returned to Harbour’s side.
-33-
Candidates
Harbour led the foursome, and Jessie soon recognized the route. They weren’t headed toward security administration.
“I take it that Major Finian wasn’t at the auditorium,” Jessie remarked to Devon.
“He wasn’t allowed to attend, by order of the commandant,” Devon said in disgust.
At the hatch to the Miner’s Pit, Jessie smacked the door activator and looked up at the security monitor. Moments later, the hatch swung open, and Maggie May swept out to give Jessie a fierce hug. “Thought I wouldn’t see your ugly butt again,” she said in a husky voice.
“When did you see my butt?” Jessie teased.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ve seen it, and it isn’t pretty,” Aurelia commented.
“Looks like you and I have been spared the sight,” Harbour remarked to Devon.
“Thank goodness for small mercies,” Devon quipped.
“Enough about my butt, thank you,” Jessie said, stepping past Maggie to enter the Pit.
“Major Finian?” Harbour asked Maggie.
“Already here, Envoy,” Maggie replied. “I want to say that was a fine thing you did for those twenty spacers, and I’m sorry to hear about Dillon.”
Maggie noticed the pain that crossed Harbour’s face at the mention of Dillon, and she quickly changed the subject. “Well, don’t stand out here in the corridor, Envoy. Come on in.”
The Pit wasn’t open yet, and Liam sat at a table by himself. He rose and greeted the foursome, saving a strong hug for Devon.
“Good to see you again,” Liam said to Devon.
“Even better to make it home,” Devon replied.
Liam took in Devon’s mannerisms. His lieutenant’s demeanor exuded a level of assurance and self-confidence that he hadn’t seen previously.
Maggie delivered water and fruit drinks to the new guests. “Courtesy of the Belle,” Maggie remarked in answer to quizzical expressions. As another surprise, she set two greens before Harbour and Aurelia, adding, “Courtesy of Nadine and Yasmin.”
The foursome took a moment to enjoy their drinks. Then Liam opened the conversation. “I’m sorry I missed the meeting.”
“You didn’t,” Devon said, patting his breast pocket. “I recorded Harbour’s interaction with Emerson and the table.”
Aurelia smiled broadly, and she hefted her comm unit. “So did I, and from what I saw, just about everyone else did too.”
“That will prevent the rumor mill from distorting what took place,” Jessie commented. “Those recordings will be flashed to a lot of comm units. People can hear the exchange for themselves.”
; “Well, Envoy, I’m here,” Liam said, changing the conversation, “but I don’t know why.”
Devon couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. Harbour’s comments to Emerson gave him a clue about what was coming.
“We know the commandant moved from the pay of one governor to another,” Harbour said. “More than likely, he’s now receiving coin from one of the family heads.”
“Dorelyn,” Liam said.
“You’re still recording?” Devon asked, and Liam nodded.
“What have you heard?” Jessie eagerly inquired.
Liam hoisted his fruit drink and finished it. Setting the glass on the table, he said, “Emerson has realized that he holds the upper hand on the council, and he’s been squeezing them for greater and greater monthly payments. First, it was to hide the station’s license to construct the shuttle. Then, it was to withhold the station’s funds for the intravertors, while the council pushed for an agreement to get a major share of the surface.”
“Can’t we use these recordings?” Aurelia asked.
Liam stared quietly at the young spacer and empath. She represented a fractious part of Pyrean politics. But what he didn’t know is why she was invited to sit at the table.
Harbour could sense the emotions that had risen in Liam, and they weren’t positive, regarding Aurelia. However, before she could fashion a response, Devon spoke up.
“Let me set you straight on one thing, Major,” Devon said, with authority. “You should regard any of Harbour’s explorers through a unique lens. They’ve lived through events that you can’t imagine. They’ve risked their lives and faced the possibility of being trapped in a complex of domes that offered little possibility of ever returning home.”
“Does that include you?” Liam asked.
“I must admit it does, Major,” Devon replied, holding Liam in a steady gaze.
“Enough,” Harbour said firmly. “I’ve my reasons for wanting Aurelia with me. She’s a delegate and an explorer. That’s all that need be said.”
Turning to Aurelia, Harbour added, “The recordings were obtained illegally. If they’re produced as evidence, the Review Board can’t consider them. Worse, the commandant would have grounds to dismiss the individuals involved in making those recordings.”
“Which would be Devon, me, and others,” Liam explained. “And my apology for doubting your presence.”
“Not a problem, Major. Most people don’t know what to do with me,” Aurelia replied. She detected a sudden shift in Devon’s emotions in response to her comments, and she deliberately didn’t look at the lieutenant. There was no doubt in her mind that Harbour had sensed Devon’s surge in interest.
“We’re at the same place we were before you left, Harbour,” Liam said, spreading his hands in supplication. “We know that the commandant is dealing with the downsiders, and we can’t show what we’ve got. So, I ask again: Why are we meeting?”
“How would you like to be the new commandant?” Harbour asked. She opened her gates wide to judge Liam’s emotional reaction. Aurelia was sitting next to Liam, and Harbour expected to compare her reading with Aurelia’s, later.
Liam’s reactions were as Harbour supposed they would be. He stared at her in surprise, while he processed her question. Internally, he was a mix of emotions that fluctuated wildly.
Liam took his eyes off Harbour and swung them to Devon, Jessie, and even Aurelia. They didn’t react or signal their thoughts, which told him that they knew this coming. I missed one heck of a meeting, Liam thought.
“Let me state the obvious. We already have a commandant. How do you intend to remove him?” Liam asked.
“Henry Stamerson researched the station’s articles. A plebiscite involving topsiders can be taken to elect a commandant at any time. No cause is required,” Harbour replied.
“Has this ever been done?” Liam asked.
“Not according to the records that Henry reviewed,” Harbour replied.
“If you hold this plebiscite or election, Emerson will surely run,” Liam said, “and I can guarantee you that the families will spend an enormous amount of coin to keep him in place.”
“More than likely, the families might enter a candidate of their choice to run against the commandant if they think he might not win,” Jessie added.
“Which is why we need a strong candidate of our own,” Harbour remarked, locking eyes with Liam.
Liam leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his midriff. “How would this work?” he asked.
Harbour’s anxiousness eased. The first barrier had been crossed. Liam hadn’t rejected the idea out of hand.
“According to Henry, ten percent of the topsider population must sign a petition to hold the plebiscite,” Harbour said.
“We’d have to knock on a lot of cabin doors, and that would expose us,” Liam opined.
“You would stay out of it for the time being,” Harbour replied. “I push for the plebiscite. I provide a site where the comm signatures can accrue. When we reach the ten percent threshold, the Review Board declares the election request valid. They set the timing, establish the election site to ensure spacer votes are recorded too, and announce the winner.”
“And if I was interested in running?” Liam asked.
“When the Review Board announces the plebiscite will go forward, many prominent individuals will pronounce you as their candidate,” Harbour replied.
“But not you,” Liam suggested.
“Too polarizing,” Harbour responded. “However, I’ve the signature of every eligible voter aboard the Belle already signed up on the site. We just haven’t published it yet.”
“How many is that?” Devon asked.
“Four percent of the topsider population,” Harbour replied. In response to the surprised faces, she added, “We’ve been growing ever since the Belle started sailing.”
“And it helps that the colony ship has become the greatest profit-generating ship in the history of Pyre,” Jessie added, with a self-satisfied smile.
“My advisor likes everyone to note that hauling slush aboard the Belle was his idea,” Harbour said. She couldn’t help but send a small wave of pleasure Jessie’s way. His idea had transformed her life and those aboard the Belle in extraordinary ways.
“We started this conversation, discussing the recordings,” Liam offered.
“Yes, we did,” Harbour replied. “Keep them safe. They might become necessary if the families move against us in a manner that overwhelms our efforts.”
They heard Maggie’s comm unit buzz. “Opening time,” she announced.
“Better not keep hungry spacers waiting,” Jessie warned.
“I say we order,” Harbour suggested. “Anyone hungry?”
* * * *
Dorelyn, Idrian, Rufus, and Emerson retired to a private room that the council maintained for their visits aboard the JOS.
“Why couldn’t those creatures the Jatouche fear have eaten that woman?” Rufus growled.
“My thought is that Harbour is probably indigestible,” Idrian remarked.
“Drop your animosity toward Harbour,” Dorelyn scolded. “It does us no good. We must focus on the challenge she laid down.”
“Do you think she’s serious about a new commandant?” Emerson asked.
Dorelyn schooled her face. More than anything she’d like to see Emerson exit a hatch on a terminal arm without a ship docked on the other side. She couldn’t imagine how he’d gained the commandant’s position. Then again, she considered it was with the help of Markos Andropov, who held the domes’ governorship position for so many decades. Markos was the type to prefer an idiot, she thought.
“Yes, she’s serious,” Dorelyn stated evenly, “and she wouldn’t have suggested it unless she knew it was possible. I have to give the woman credit. She’s taken on a staggering amount of responsibility and power, and she’s wielded it effectively. We’ve underestimated her.”
Dorelyn stared into the distance for a moment, and then added, “Bu
t that can be corrected.”
“Emerson, your job is to visit with Captain Stamerson,” Dorelyn ordered. “By the captain’s comment, he knows the processes this election must follow. We must have the details. That means every line of the articles, which govern the rules to request an election, to nominate candidates, to safeguard the voting … everything.”
“Certainly,” Emerson agreed, relieved that the council appeared to be backing him. “What else?”
“That’s all,” Dorelyn replied. “You may go.”
Emerson hesitated but then got up and left. His ears were burning at being dismissed like an errant child. It was his growing retirement fund that kept him silent.
“Are we backing that fool?” asked Rufus, when the door slid shut behind Emerson.
“Wrong question,” Dorelyn instructed. “The right question is: What’s the best path to take to ensure we win? It might be by supporting Emerson. Then again, it might be by recruiting another candidate, without Emerson’s knowledge.”
“Is the idea of eliminating the opposition candidate off the table?” Rufus asked.
Dorelyn considered the question, finally saying, “No, but it’s a last resort, and if we decide to move in that direction, we’ll have to ensure that it appears as an accident.”
“The only way to prevent blame falling on us is with a catastrophic accident. That will entail the loss of more than a few stationers and spacers. Possibly a terminal arm’s emergency decompression,” Rufus said.
“Possibly,” Dorelyn commented quietly. “Let’s focus on our first steps. Who do we have that’s vulnerable, someone we can control, and would make an appealing candidate?”
“Can we consider stationers and spacers?” Idrian asked.
“No spacers,” Dorelyn relied swiftly. “They don’t have widespread appeal, except for maybe Cinders.” She chuckled at her own joke, and Idrian and Rufus were smart enough to politely smile.
