by S. H. Jucha
“That still doesn’t offer an explanation as to why this woman killed Roby,” Miguel said.
“It does if you look at it from a political angle,” Devon replied.
* * * *
After the news of Roby’s death broke, rumors were rampant, and the wildest and most egregious were fueled by the paid parties. The subject of the attacker’s murder dominated every cantina table and bar. Conjectures about who did what to whom were rife.
Dottie listened to her fellow investors, as they sat around their favorite table in the Starlight. Each proffered one or more of the rumors. The most injurious one against the major said he orchestrated his own assassination attempt and then killed Roby, when Roby survived the arrest. A twist on that odious rumor was that it was propagated by the families to smear the major. Still another variation was that stationers were behind the machinations. And the most ludicrous one was that aliens were operating among them, attempting to influence Pyrean politics.
When Dottie’s companions were finished espousing their favorite theories, they looked at her to hear which one she preferred. She regarded the men and laughed heartily.
“How did I befriend such intelligent men, but such foolish students of human nature?” she asked. “Don’t listen to the rumors, the conjectures. Most of them are lies. Ask yourself which candidate is most trustworthy. Which candidate do you believe will work for the things you want? And, most important, what proof have they given you of their true nature? Who has withheld station funds, while professing support for topsiders? Who arrested Markos Andropov and Giorgio Sestos for kidnapping and imprisoning empaths? And who has no experience in security and has squandered his family’s wealth?”
“You make it sound so simple,” Trent pressed.
“It is,” Dottie replied. “You’re the ones making it complex by listening to every rumor and message that’s put out. Do we know who’s behind each of them? We can guess, but does it matter? Look at the facts, look at their actions, and make your judgments on those.” Dottie finished her drink and left.
“She has a point,” Hans said. “All you hear are the most titillating rumors. The facts are rarely discussed.”
“I think it’s obvious who Dottie supports,” Oster said, sipping on his drink. “And let’s not forget that the envoy supports him.”
“But you’re assuming that the envoy doesn’t have an alternate agenda,” Trent objected.
“I don’t accept that idea,” Oster riposted. “None of us have personal experience with Harbour. We don’t know her.”
“Except for Dottie,” Hans offered.
“And that was my conclusion,” Oster said, hoisting his drink to Hans. “Dottie’s a delegate. She spent weeks with Harbour, and she believes in the woman and what she’s trying to achieve for Pyre. I suggest we stop sharing the rumors and start speaking to the facts.”
“I second that,” Hans said. Oster and he eyed Trent and waited.
Trent drew breath to offer a final objection, but the hard stares of his comrades halted him. “I’m not sure of the facts,” Trent said, compromising, “but I’ll stop sharing the rumors.”
“Fair enough,” Oster allowed, and the men touched glasses to seal their agreement.
* * * *
In the final days, it was obvious to topsiders that the race had dwindled to two men. The rumors against Strattleford and Finian escalated, driving voters away from the commandant, and splitting them between Fortis and Finian. More went to Fortis than Finian.
The common theme among reports from the political manipulators was that Fortis was leading among voters, and Dorelyn congratulated herself and shared the news with the council. However, a subtle maneuver wasn’t receiving the attention of the family heads’ sources.
In the early morning hours, Danny and Claudia were extraordinarily busy, shuttling Belle residents to the JOS. They made seven to eight runs, docking at various terminal arms. Then they reversed the procedure to collect their passengers in the late evening hours. This allowed Harbour to deliver approximately four hundred residents to the JOS every day to campaign for Liam.
The essence of Harbour’s plan was that her people were reaching stationers who didn’t haunt cantinas, prestigious shops, and sleepholds. A Belle tapestry weaver visited shops where she purchased her materials. A metal sculptor dropped by to visit the individuals who reclaimed parts from derelict ships or damaged terminal arms. Spacers visited the vendors who supplied their vac suits, skins, and accessories.
And for the first time ever, empaths used a hastily converted station location to offer their ministrations at tremendously reduced costs. It became an extremely popular spot, as its location spread by word of mouth through the ranks of the less fortunate. The empaths didn’t discuss politics. That was against the rules of their service. But the clients knew who helped them, who their leader was, and who their leader supported.
Harbour’s plan was a work in progress, and it was difficult to measure its effectiveness. In contrast, the common thought in cantinas was that the election was going to be a tossup between the two leading candidates.
While the individual votes were secret, the count wasn’t. It was obvious to topsiders that the turnout was enormous. Visits to a voting location weren’t required as in the days of ancient Earth. Only registered comm units were allowed to connect to the voting site, and those connections were checked against the station’s records of citizens.
Throughout the day, people asked one another who received their vote. Truthful answers often started arguments, and soon people refused to answer the question.
Spacers had days to register their votes, and an overwhelming ninety-eight percent had accessed the site. By the time the polling site closed, Pyrean topsiders had turned out by ninety-three percent.
Henry and the Review Board had sole access to the voting compilation. Even security administration was locked out. Late in the evening, the news of the election was broadcast. Henry faced the vid pickup, and he was flanked by board members.
“The Review Board has ascertained that voters have been accurately verified by the station’s list of citizens,” Henry announced. “Furthermore, the board is satisfied that the election process has been run in accordance with the requirements of the station’s articles. I would ask the board members to add their assent to what I’ve announced.”
Henry paused for the vid pickup to focus on each member. The individuals took a moment to point out other steps that were taken to ensure the election standards were met. Henry had stressed to his fellow captains that it was critical to educate topsiders on how the election process was crafted and observed. The reason for this was simple. There wasn’t a single stationer or spacer alive who had ever participated in an election.
When the auxiliary board members were finished, the vid swung back to Henry. “Here are the final results for the three leading candidates for our commandant,” Henry began. “For Commandant Emerson Strattleford, eleven point six percent. For Rod Fortis, thirty-nine point three percent, and for Major Liam Finian, forty-seven point four percent. The Review Board announces that Major Liam Finian is the new commandant.”
Liam had invited Devon and Aurelia to listen to the election announcement with his family. When the pronouncement was made, Liam hugged his tearful wife and two children. Then he offered his hand to Devon and Aurelia. “Looks like your days of shadowing me are over,” he said.
“Not until Envoy Harbour says so,” Aurelia riposted. “I believe we’ll be with you for a little while longer.”
“And I agree with that decision,” Devon added. “Emotions are running high. It would be better to be careful until things get a chance to cool down. Have you thought about what you’re going to do tomorrow?”
“Yes, I have,” Liam replied. “We’re going to visit the other candidates. Words of appreciation and sympathy need to be said.”
“And you need Emerson’s codes,” Devon added.
“Those too,” Liam agreed.
/> * * * *
Emerson had spent the several days preceding the election in his cabin. He was a disillusioned man. Dorelyn had never announced her decision to withdraw her support from him. In fact, he’d received the latest monthly stipend from her, while reports indicated that his supporters were abandoning him. That’s when his suspicions were confirmed. Fortis was a council candidate.
The door chime caught Emerson’s attention, and he checked his comm unit, which displayed images from the security cam mounted outside his cabin. The last person he wanted to see stood there. Emerson stared at his comm unit for so long that Liam tapped the door chime again. Emerson sighed and triggered the cabin door aside.
“Did you come to gloat?” Emerson charged.
“No, Emerson, I came to tell you that I won’t pursue you for any illegal activity you engaged in during your time as commandant,” Liam said.
Emerson’s mouth gaped open, and he stared at Devon and Aurelia, who stood beside Liam. Their eyes drilled into his. They know, he thought with horror.
“I need your codes, Emerson,” Liam politely requested.
The thought crossed Emerson’s mind that he’d no longer be addressed as commandant. That was, perhaps, the cruelest cut of all. He accessed his comm unit and sent the list of codes to Liam’s device. The moment that happened, the codes disappeared from his unit. It was a security protocol.
Liam checked his device, stored the codes, and asked, “I’ll expect you to clear out your office today, or I can have your things sent to you.”
“Send them to me,” Emerson said. “I don’t expect to set foot in security administration ever again.”
“It’ll be done,” Liam acknowledged and exited the cabin. He experienced a moment of satisfaction. Emerson didn’t know the evidence against him had been illegally obtained. It was enough for Liam to make the man suspect it had been legal.
Liam had one more stop to make. Navigating a few more corridors placed him in front of Rod Fortis’ cabin. Tapping the door panel didn’t gain Fortis’ attention. The display indicated he was in residence, and Liam was about to give up, when the door slid open. Surprisingly, there was no one there to greet him.
“Rod Fortis,” Liam called out.
There was a lengthy pause, and then a voice said, “Here.”
Liam advanced into the cabin’s salon. It was one of the more luxurious and spacious cabins on station. “Where’s here?” Liam asked.
“I don’t know,” said the slurred voice.
Liam followed the sound to the back of a couch. Rod Fortis lay on the floor, a container resting on his chest. “Offer you a drink, winner,” Rod said in slurred speech.
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Liam said.
“Be in the same condition then,” Rod replied, his eyes rolling about.
“Okay,” Liam said quietly, and Rod closed his eyes.
At the door, Liam set the panel for a delayed close, and the threesome exited the cabin.
“Where to now?” Devon asked.
“Security,” Liam replied.
-39-
Liam Finian
Liam sat behind his desk in his old office and connected his comm device to the monitor. Then he requested the station’s accounts, which hadn’t been accessible before now. With a sigh of relief, Liam watched them scroll up on the screen. The codes had been accepted.
“Do you have what you need?” Devon asked.
“Yes, thanks, Devon,” Liam replied.
“Aurelia and I are stepping out, but we’ll be back in time to accompany you to midday meal,” Devon said. “Call us if you have to leave administration.”
“Understood. On your way out, send Sergeant Lindstrom to me, please,” Liam requested. He studied the figures in the various accounts while he waited.
“You requested me, Commandant?” Cecilia asked from the doorway.
“Congratulations, Sergeant, you’re the first to use my title,” Liam replied, with a smile.
“Didn’t you see the candidates this morning?” Cecilia asked. “I would have thought you’d have heard it from them.”
“One was depressed; and one was drunk,” Liam replied.
“I won’t ask which was which,” Cecilia said, and Liam chuckled.
“I want to create a channel dedicated to the station’s accounts, Sergeant. I intend to publish certain ones. How’s the best way to go about that?” Liam asked.
“We already have the Pyrean Green fund on a stationwide channel, Commandant. Why not shove that site down one level, add a link to it on a cover page, and then add a second link to the published station’s accounts?” Cecilia suggested.
“I like it. Set it up, and I’ll need to make an announcement before that goes live,” Liam said.
“You’ll have to send me a link to whichever account you want to display, Commandant. I won’t have access to it,” Cecilia suggested.
“Come here,” Liam requested. “It’ll be this one.” He pointed at the third item on the monitor. It was the station’s reserve account, which was dedicated to JOS and YIPS expansion projects.”
“Is that figure correct?” Cecilia asked in awe.
“And how would I know that, Sergeant?” Liam asked in a teasing manner. “I’ve only been the commandant since yesterday evening.”
“Why was the comm … I mean Emerson … not putting these funds to use?” Cecilia asked.
“You’d have to ask Emerson, and I don’t think he’s in a talkative mood,” Liam replied. “In addition to adding this account, I need you to separate the Pyrean Green fund into two subaccounts. One should include topsider donations and the other will encapsulate downsider donations. Can that be done?”
“Easily, Commandant, we have the origination source of each transfer,” Cecilia replied.
Liam considered what Cecilia was saying. He thought he saw a possible problem. “Sergeant, what if topsiders were working in the domes when the transfer requests were made?”
“Then those individuals would have comm unit IDs that matched their citizens’ records,” Cecilia replied, smiling. Don’t worry, Sir, I’ll ensure that the records are carefully separated. What’s the purpose of this?”
“Sorry, Sergeant, I’m not ready to announce that yet. Set up the new site with the link I sent you, and the changes I’ve requested. I’ll review everything when you’re ready.”
“Yes, Commandant,” Cecilia said.
“And have Sergeant Rodriquez pack up Emerson’s personal things and deliver them to his cabin,” Liam requested.
“Should I have the office fumigated too?” Cecilia suggested with a wry smile. But when Liam raised an eyebrow, she hastily added, “Maybe just a thorough cleaning.”
“That would be fine,” Liam acknowledged.
Cecilia turned to leave but paused in the doorway before saying, “Congratulations, Sir. It’ll be a pleasure to work in security again.” She flashed him a bright smile and disappeared.
Liam leaned back and considered his next step. Emerson had held up the intravertor process to such a degree that he wasn’t sure what to try to tackle first. Ask, if you don’t know, Liam thought. It was an adage drummed into his head by his mentor.
Selecting Jessie’s contact info from his comm unit, Liam made his first call. After a brief exchange of congratulations, Liam explained what he’d found in the station’s accounts and what he intended to publish.
“My question is what to do next, Jessie,” Liam said. “I have a view of the Pyrean Green account and the station’s capital growth fund. But I need advice on how to weigh the avenues available to me, and I can tell you that I’ve never negotiated contracts or estimated the cost of massive projects.”
“That’s what friends are for, Liam,” Jessie replied, with a laugh. “You’re correct. You need hard data and expert advice to be able to make these kinds of decisions, and I can help you gather that information.”
“Good to hear, Jessie. Where do we start?” Liam asked.
Jess
ie quickly organized the topics that he’d have to educate Liam on to help him understand the various critical steps. “First, Liam, are you committed to the construction of the intravertors?”
“Absolutely,” Liam replied enthusiastically.
“How about the platform? Will you support its construction?” Jessie asked.
“Is that the best way to deploy the intravertors?” Liam queried, in return.
“Yes, according to the brightest engineers we have. I can have them forward their recommendations to you,” Jessie explained. “And you should know that the two Belle pilots, who dropped the first intravertor, have refused a repeat performance. They say it’s too dangerous.”
“Okay, then we need a launch device of some sort,” Liam said. Then in an afterthought, he added, “How much is one of those?”
Jessie couldn’t help the laughter that erupted out of him. It wasn’t that Liam was naïve about these sorts of things. It was that it was refreshing to hear a commandant request information to make critical decisions.
“Liam, you’re going to do just fine in this job,” Jessie said. “I’ll have Evan Pendleton send you the cost proposal for the engineer’s concept of a platform and the intravertor construction. You’ll also get the engineers’ original report on launch mechanisms and deployment concepts. Last item, Liam: What about the JOS–Triton shuttle?”
“You mean the one the council’s ordered?” Liam asked.
“Yes,” Jessie replied.
“I don’t know what to do about that. I’ll have to think on that one,” Liam said.
“Fair enough,” Jessie acknowledged. “I’ll get the information over to you this afternoon.”
Liam was sure that he heard Jessie correctly about the timing. It dawned on him that he was only catching up to individuals who had been working far in advance of him. “Is this the work of Harbour and you?” Liam asked.
“Liam, there are a good many people who worked to get you elected, and they expended that effort on the assumption you would win. Choosing to believe in that version of the future, they’ve worked to be ready for when you held the commandant’s position,” Jessie explained.
