by S. H. Jucha
Eyes were glued to monitors and comm devices to watch the race for president. Early numbers gave Henry a slight edge over Dorelyn. The council believed this was due to the votes of anxious spacers and Belle residents, but they were mistaken.
Henry’s lead increased incrementally every hour that passed. Dorelyn and he were the only real contenders. The other candidates garnered only a few votes from friends and family.
Dorelyn railed at Eaton to explain why she was losing when the domes should have the greater numbers.
Eaton was at a loss for explanations. The feedback from the families’ security chiefs was that associates, vendors, and business partners knew what was required of them.
One member of a family knew what was happening. Imian sat on his bed. His comm unit was connected to Sasha since he didn’t dare attach it to a monitor. That would have displayed his comm ID to house security.
Sasha couldn’t have been happier. She had Imian to herself for the entire day. She chatted on about anything and everything, and Imian was content to listen to her, often with a smile.
Every half hour, Sasha would pause to read out the votes for presidential candidates from the Review Board’s channel.
“You’re doing it,” Sasha would often say.
“They’re doing it,” Imian would reply each time.
Imian’s final contact count was twelve groups. That meant he knew of thirteen underground organizations. He had no idea how many other groups had been contacted by the thirteen leaders.
However, Imian calculated that the member count of the groups couldn’t account for Henry’s widening margin over Dorelyn. The only explanation was that the underground organizations had broken their security protocols and reached out to family, friends, and associates. That took courage. It was an enormous risk for each individual, but the enthusiasm and the appetite for change were powerful forces.
A little after half the day’s voting period had elapsed, it was obvious to Dorelyn that she had no chance of winning. At the present rate, Captain Stamerson would win by a twelve- to fifteen-point margin.
The outcome was obvious to others, including Liam, and he contacted Dingles.
“Captain, there’s no doubt Henry’s going to win,” Liam said. “I need a critical plan for dome security put in play, and I need Henry’s approval.”
Liam had to wait briefly for the reply. The Belle was loading slush at Emperion.
“I’m sorry, Commandant,” Dingles said. “Henry’s approval will carry no weight until the election period is closed and I announce the winner based on the recorded votes. However, you can meet with him, get his tentative approval, and move soon after my announcement. You’ll still need Henry to formally certify your plan for the record before you activate it.”
Liam did just that. The meeting was short. Henry knew the problems Liam would face downside, and he saw that Liam had planned his actions well. Henry drafted his approval statement, and the men parted company to wait for the election period to close.
Assembly candidates numbered fifty-eight. It would be a simple election process for the forty seats. The early numbers showed the downsiders were doing as well as the topsiders. That gave the council some level of comfort. If they couldn’t have the presidency, they could, at least, control the Assembly and thereby curtail the president’s power, or so they hoped.
By midday, it was obvious that Dottie Franks, Lindsey Jabrook, Bryan Forshaw, Pete Jennings, Noel Gunderson, and Gerry Grayson, among others, would make the cut as Assembly delegates.
Throughout the day, downsiders exchanged messages via vehicle traffic. Every Assembly candidate was a member of the underground, and each had vowed to their group that they would vote for the good of the majority of the domes’ population.
At the end of the day, Captain Henry Stamerson became the first president of Pyre. Of the forty Assembly seats, the downsiders attained twenty-one, and the topsiders held the other nineteen. Only four topsiders knew what the numbers meant. The rest of the population had to wait to discover Imian’s secret.
* * * *
After Captain Bassiter announced the election results, a dejected Dorelyn returned home from the council meeting. She ate a small evening meal. Despite the late hour, she chose to visit her office, as was her habit.
Dorelyn sat behind her desk. She picked up her desk comm unit, winced, and dropped it. Her thumb and index finger were pricked, and little drops of blood oozed from them. She sucked both digits and carefully turned over the device.
Thin needles, which were attacked to tiny transparent globules, were adhered to the back of the comm unit. Startled by the implication, Dorelyn swiveled in her seat to seek her attacker. She saw no one.
Leaving the comm unit flat on the desk, Dorelyn accessed Eaton’s device. “Medical emergency. Intruder. My office,” she managed to choke out. Then her voice faltered. She attempted to stand only to sit down heavily in the chair.
Sika stepped from behind one of the artfully crafted concealments that security had recently installed.
Dorelyn managed a burble, when she had meant to chuckle. It was ironic that her assassin appeared from a location where security was supposed to hide to kill Sika.
Sika touched the actuator to close the door. Then she used a tool to tear it out and short the switch. She walked to the front of Dorelyn’s desk and stared at her ex-mistress. Gone was the impression of the demure young woman, the prim and proper visitor to Dorelyn’s office. Sika walked with the grace and stealth of a predator.
“It’s a combination of a paralytic, a slow-acting poison, and deadly bacteria, which are resistant to the first two ingredients, Dorelyn,” Sika said. “About the only things you’ll be able to do are blink and breathe. I much prefer you this way. Your conversations always bored me. You never knew that in my presence I held the power, not you. How was that true, you might ask? It was because you could be counted on to desperately cling to your comfortable life, and I could take it away from you at any time of my choosing.”
The pounding at the office door alerted Sika that security had arrived.
“Your office protection has turned into your prison, Dorelyn,” Sika said. “It will take some time for security to cut through that metal door. Although, if they’re imaginative, they might think to come over your balcony from the second floor.”
Sika leaned over the desk and examined Dorelyn’s upper lip. The council leader’s eyes blazed with hatred.
“I see the poison is working on schedule,” Sika said, studying the sweat she saw. “You’re feeling warm, if not hot. Soon you’ll start to itch. Then it’ll feel like your skin is burning, and there’s nothing you’ll be able to do about it. That’s what I wanted for you, Dorelyn … impotency. You’ve accumulated power, wealth, and influence. Yet, in the end, you’ll sit behind your desk helpless and expiring.”
Sika sat on the edge of the desk. One at a time, she picked up and studied the items that Dorelyn treasured. She dropped one on the floor to hear it break, while she watched Dorelyn’s eyes. For herself, she took no pleasure in the actions. Everything she did was meant to prove to Dorelyn that her status and prestige were of no use to her in her final moments.
“You might be wondering how I’m prepared to escape this time,” Sika said, snapping in half one of the treasures. “The fact is that I’m not. There’s no place to hide anymore. You’ve used up your life, Dorelyn, and mine.”
Sika withdrew an auto-injector from her bag. “This is similar to the one meant for the envoy,” she said. “This concoction will make my end quick. Security will break in here, and they’ll call med techs for you. Those men and women will work feverishly to save the dome’s powerful council leader.”
Resting on her elbows, Sika leaned across the desk so that she was nose-to-nose with Dorelyn. She said softly, “I want you to know that the med team will fail. Despite their efforts, your organs will shut down. In time, you’ll bleed from every orifice, and you’ll die miserably and slowly. While
you suffer, I want you to think about me. I want you to understand that I did this to you. I brought you to death’s door and forced you to walk through it.”
Sparks flew from a cut in the wall. Security was going to manually trigger the door activator circuit when they finished notching out a section of the wall.
“Time to go,” Sika said. She pulled a chair in front of the desk. When she sat, she was directly opposite Dorelyn. One woman’s eyes were lit with terror, pain, and burning hatred. The other’s eyes were placid, accepting of the end.
Sika placed the auto-injector against her neck. She looked at Dorelyn, and said, “Enjoy your death, mistress. I planned it especially for you.” Then Sika triggered the injector.
The fluid from the injector shot quickly to Sika’s brain. A cascade swiftly followed, shutting down autonomous motor controls. Her heart stopped beating, as did her breathing.
A tech completed the door circuit. It slid aside, and security burst into the room, stun sticks drawn. The med techs rushed to Dorelyn’s aid.
To Eaton, it was a bizarre scene. Dorelyn was sweating profusely and frozen in her chair. Her attacker sat across the desk. Her arm hung by her side, and an empty injector clung to her fingers.
“Your creature got away from you,” Eaton muttered quietly. He stepped aside while the med techs rushed Dorelyn from the room on a stretcher. They were bound for the El and JOS medical services.
“What should we do with her?” a security agent asked Eaton, pointing at Sika’s body.
“Leave her,” Eaton replied. “The council leaders will want to know what happened. We need proof that it wasn’t us. When they’re satisfied, we can make her body disappear.”
* * * *
The El’s manager received a terse message from Liam, and he dressed and hurried to the terminal arm.
The El’s operators were furious at the disruption of their routine. They’d been commandeered by JOS security, and they made their complaints to the manager when he arrived. They were to no avail.
Liam’s security barred passengers from descending downside. His officers, who were stationers, were strapped into all the available seats. The ex-spacer officers had strung lines and used them to latch onto one another and the car’s bulkheads.
Now completely filled with security personnel, the El car descended the moment Liam was ready, which was forty-five minutes ahead of schedule. When security exited the El into the dome, Noel and Caitie, who had declared a truce between them, met the officers. They loaded most of them into e-carts, the cargo carriers. Liam, Miguel, and Noel caught an e-trans and led the e-carts. Caitie waited behind for the next load of security.
JOS security vehicles exited the first interconnector, and they passed an emergency medical team headed for the El. The officers sat silently in the vehicles, as they made their way to the first target, Dorelyn’s house.
Eaton met Liam at the door, and Liam produced the presidential order to surrender all stun sticks to JOS security.
“Where’s Dorelyn Gaylan?” Liam asked.
“You just missed her. She’s on her way to the JOS,” Eaton replied.
“The medical emergency?” Liam asked.
“Yes,” Eaton reluctantly admitted.
“How?” Liam demanded, as he backed Eaton into the house.
Eaton loosed a sigh. It was obviously the end of business as usual for his house, if not for the families. It was hoped the Assembly’s downsiders would put an end to the president’s directives, but that might take time.
“Upstairs. I’ll take you,” Eaton said.
To the house security agents, who had crowded behind Eaton, Liam announced loudly. “You’ll surrender your stun sticks to my officers, and we’ll be searching this house for more weapons. Any attempt to interfere with this lawful order will find you restrained, arrested, and incarcerated aboard the JOS.”
Spinning around, Liam added, “Major, you’re with me. Sergeant Tulafono, you have your orders.”
Sergeant Afato Tulafono was the younger brother of Ituau, captain of the Spryte. He had been injured in a mining accident and was one of the repaired.
Despite Maggie May’s suggestion to Jessie that he take the worst cases for the second group headed to Rissness Station, she’d reminded him that Afato was in need of repair. Jessie had included Afato as a favor to Ituau.
Liam and Miguel followed Eaton to the lift.
Afato waved to his officers, and they flowed into the main room, collecting stun sticks as they went. An agent made the mistake of pretending to hand over his stick to Afato active point first. The ex-spacer neatly grasped the stick halfway down the shaft and twisted it out of the agent’s grasp. The surprise on the agent’s face was not lost on the other agents or Eaton, who had witnessed the encounter.
Liam curtailed his desire to smile, but he did congratulate himself on his through preparations, especially his idea to hire ex-spacers.
Eaton led Liam and Miguel to the third floor and Dorelyn’s private quarters.
Liam noticed the ruined section of the wall. He glanced toward Miguel, who nodded. He’d seen it too. The officers walked around the body that was slumped in the chair.
“Luna,” Miguel said.
“Who?” Eaton asked.
“The assassin we’ve been seeking. She’s the individual who attacked the advisor and would have eliminated the envoy too, but she was foiled. She’s suspected of killing Roby and Emerson,” Liam declared.
Liam caught the flicker of thoughts that crossed Eaton’s mind, which were betrayed in his eyes.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know,” Liam accused Eaton.
Eaton composed his thoughts. Dorelyn’s secret was about to land him aboard the JOS in a small security cell.
“This is Sika,” Eaton said, gesturing toward the body. “She’s Dorelyn’s, or rather she was Dorelyn’s personal employee. Recently, something went wrong with the relationship, and Dorelyn planned to kill her. Sika never showed for their meeting. Apparently, Sika came for retribution.”
“Is Dorelyn expected to survive?” Miguel asked.
“If Sika was responsible for what you say and she’d injected you, what would be the probability of you surviving it?” Eaton asked.
Liam didn’t like Eaton’s smooth answers, which conveniently admitted to little or no knowledge of Sika and Dorelyn’s business arrangement. He ignored Eaton’s rhetorical question, and directed Miguel to manage the office as a crime scene.
“When you’re done with your investigation, Major, take the body into custody and have her examined by JOS medical,” Liam ordered.
Miguel called two of the more experienced officers to assist him.
“A word for you, Eaton,” Liam said, stepping into the security chief’s space. “We’re here now. The airlocks to the surface will have their codes changed. There’ll be no more disappearances.”
This time, Liam enjoyed the surprise that was evident as it flitted through Eaton’s eyes.
Liam left Miguel and his officers investigating the crime scene in Dorelyn’s office.
Noel called Gerry Grayson to stand by at the Gaylan house to ensure Major Rodriguez had what he needed. When the officers finished loading an e-cart with stun sticks, Noel led Liam and the other men to the next house.
Meanwhile, the El delivered another load of officers and some techs. Cecilia accompanied this group. The plan was that they would return to the JOS when their assignment was complete. Caitie met Cecilia’s group.
“Major, every dome has four interconnectors,” Caitie said with little fanfare. “At least one of them will lead to another dome.”
“I’m familiar with airlocks, operating mechanisms, and access panels,” Cecilia replied, “and I’ve visited the domes once before. Do you have a map?”
Caitie held up her comm unit, and Cecilia accessed her device’s file transfer app. They touched units and the map was transferred. It was a manner of sharing that the underground preferred. The action wasn’t visible
to family security.
“You need anything else?” Caitie asked.
Cecilia examined the map, realized where she was on it, and shook her head. Without a word, Caitie left.
“Pleasant person. I hope all downsiders aren’t like her,” a sergeant commented to Cecilia.
“Don’t take it personally. She has family problems,” Cecilia replied. Addressing her officers, she said, “Let’s get started. This dome has no access to the surface. Load into the little electric vehicles you see lined up. When you’re asked for a destination, the one behind the panel should reply dome five, airlock three.”
While Cecilia’s group hacked airlock panels and changed the codes, Liam and his officers arrived at Idrian Tuttle’s house.
Idrian was alerted by his security chief, and he met Liam at the door.
“We’re collecting stun sticks … presidential order,” Liam announced. He waited for Idrian to peruse the document. Then he looked at his newly minted officer, and said, “Search it, Sergeant Tulafono, and be gentle with these agents.”
Afato grinned. Then he directed his officers inside. His stature made his not insignificantly sized sister, Ituau, who was also of Earth’s Samoan descent, look puny by comparison.
“Assist them and cooperate,” Idrian instructed his security head. When the Assembly deadlocked the president, he thought there’d be an opportunity to recover the ground against JOS security and reclaim their stun sticks.
While the agents’ sticks were collected, Idrian’s security chief eyed Afato’s massive frame and indicated a section of the wall. Then he accessed a hidden panel from his comm unit. The panel popped open and revealed twenty stun sticks connected to a charging block.
Idrian took Liam aside, and he said urgently, “I need you to take my son, Imian, into protective custody.”
“Why?” Liam asked.
“An assassin named Sika was recently in my house. She placed an explosive collar around Imian’s neck,” Idrian replied.
