by Gregg Vann
“You can keep your fairy tales, Golen. I won’t legitimize that document with a video statement, if that’s what you’d hoped.”
“Very perceptive, Sergeant Barent. I see that you understand how governments work.”
“Corrupt governments, yes. Your Collective was never what we envisioned for Le’sant.”
“Maybe not,” Golen replied. “But it is what was needed. My ancestors formed the Collective because they realized the only way to rule the prisoners was by force; a lesson learned first-hand from the guards, by the way. Our forefathers understood that a strong hand was necessary to maintain order in the city—so many of the First Ones were hardened criminals, after all. And by enforcing strict controls they were able to ensure stability. Everything they did was for the good of the people, Sergeant Barent.”
Barent chuckled as he leaned forward, closing the short gap between the two men until they were nearly face-to-face. He saw a glint of fear flash across Golen’s eyes.
Good.
“Violence is often necessary to win a kingdom, Golen. But if you still need it to maintain control after the war is over, you never really won.”
“And I suppose that you think anarchy is the answer?” Golen scoffed.
“Anarchy is an illusion—a temporary condition at best—and the only place it can endure is academia. Like nature, power abhors a vacuum. Kings, armies, religious or communal groups…someone or something always rises up, expanding their influence to fill the void. Authority is an immutable constant, and the only real difference between societies is how that power is wielded.”
“And that is exactly what my ancestors did, Sergeant Barent. They filled the void and brought order. The Collective instituted currency and created a free market, giving everyone in Le’sant the same opportunities to succeed. Each citizen now enjoys an equal chance to make a better life for themselves in the city.”
“It’s not equal if some of them are starting out a hell of a lot closer to the finish line,” Barent replied. “Or have you forgotten about the entire segment of Le’sant’s population living out on the fringes of the city? The people struggling just to survive.”
Golen waved his hand dismissively. “The downtrodden? You know nothing about them, Barent. You think that just because you passed through the Outland when you escaped that you have any real idea what they’re about? Despite the way they drag our society down, the downtrodden still enjoy the exact same benefits as everyone else in the city. We give those criminals Nutriall and allow them to vote. And still, they are ungrateful. Perhaps if they spent less time breeding and more time working, their lot in life would improve.”
Barent leaned back in the chair with a dismayed look on his face. “You act like the downtrodden are some kind of plague, Golen. Those are people dying out there. They should have access to food, and proper housing. And as for letting them vote, do you mean the opportunity you’ve provided to elect powerless figureheads? Representatives who cast ballots in fear, unable to promote the interests of their constituents because they know it might cost them their lives. The downtrodden’s participation in government is little more than a joke, Golen. You of all people know that. Democracy can be a deception. Just because you’re allowed a vote, doesn’t mean you have a voice.”
“And I suppose that you would just give them everything?” Golen replied, the disgust heavy in his voice. It was clear that Golen would gladly eradicate all of Le’sant’s poor if he thought he could get away with it. “You’d probably let the ranks of the downtrodden swell until all of our resources were stretched to the limit. Wouldn’t you, Barent? Until there was nothing left, and we are all just like them. You’d coddle them so much that they’d never try to improve their own condition. Why work hard and earn anything if you’re provided it all for free? But you wouldn’t be doing them any favors, Sergeant. And it’s not the government’s obligation to care for the poor, they have to take responsibility for their own lives.”
Barent shook his head slightly and gave Golen a bemused look. “A government’s sole reason for existence is to provide for the needs of its people, Golen. Why else would you even need one? Through taxation or outright ownership, governments control vast resources, and the benefits derived from them should be spread around equally, to all of its citizens. There’s nothing wrong with a free market, but there should also be a baseline subsistence guarantee for everyone. At a minimum, people should have access to food and housing—healthcare and education. And once those basic needs are met, then they can go on to lead productive lives, built off a solid foundation. Not everyone needs help, of course. But any who do should get it. Enclaves like the Outland can’t be allowed to exist, Golen. Not when you have so many others in the city with tremendous amounts of wealth—more than they could ever possibly use.”
Golen was incredulous. “So you believe that everyone should be held down to the exact same level?”
“No,” Sergeant Barent replied. “Of course not. People who work harder should reap greater rewards, but never at the expense of those less fortunate than themselves. There has to be a balance of interests in a fair society. Wealth can’t be allowed to amass in one segment of the populace while other citizens starve to death in the streets.”
“Ah,” Minister Golen said. “And there we have it: a concise recitation on the basic principles of your treatises.”
He shot a grave look at Malves. “You see, General? This is the nonsense he will spread if we let him live. The empty promises the Great Betrayer will make to the people of Le’sant. Promises that are impossible to keep.” Golen turned back to Barent, making no effort to hide the patronizing tone in his voice. “For a man of your experience, Sergeant, you are terribly naive. You have to know the things you suggest are mere fantasy. This notion of equality you promote is not only unworkable, but it’s dangerous. A genuine threat to our democracy.”
“Democracy,” Barent scoffed. “That’s just a word you use to control the people, Golen. But I can’t give you all the credit, because mankind has made it easy for you. Over the years, we’ve come to view the institutions of government as more important than the purposes they were meant to serve. And concepts like democracy and socialism have become sacrosanct—as if they are flawless ideals that should be worshipped. But they’re far from perfect, Golen. Every political system is riddled with faults, and unworthy of the esteem and deference we show them. Personally, I don’t care what form a government takes: democratic, communist, constitutional monarchy… Hell, even a benevolent dictatorship can work. It certainly has in the past, providing strong leadership that doesn’t suffer from the paralytic infighting between rival political parties that so often grinds democracies to a halt, or the emphasis of ideology and gamesmanship over the good of the people. I prefer a working democracy because I think it has the best chance of reflecting the will of the people, but I wouldn’t object to any form of government that treats its citizens with fairness and equality—and as long as it respects their rights as free individuals.”
Barent glanced over to find Malves studying his face intently, as if parsing every word for hidden meanings. The general’s expression was unreadable, but Minister Golen’s was as plain as day.
He simply couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“All governments exercise power,” Barent continued. “And in doing so they limit the freedom of their citizens to some extent. It’s what organizations and laws do, they restrict behavior. So what does it matter what you call that government, or how it’s structured? Over the millennia, humanity has become far too invested in labels and theory. But in the grander scheme of things the form of leadership is unimportant. It’s only how it affects the populace that matters.”
“What an interesting and ridiculous notion,” Golen said. “And what makes you such an authority on governance, Sergeant Barent?”
“Let’s just say that I received an extensive education during the incessant wars back on Earth. With national borders in a constant state
of flux, I got to experience life under several different types of regimes. And most of them were violent and unfair.”
“Now that sounds like the ramblings of a disillusioned soldier,” Golen said.
“Any soldier who doesn’t comes back from war disillusioned either rode a desk during the conflict or was a general. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong, Golen. And Le’sant’s government is just as bad as any of those we left behind on Earth. In many ways, it’s actually worse. You’ve established nothing less than a police state in this city. Why do you even have an army? The police are enough to keep order, and Le’sant has no enemies. You maintain the army just so you can stay in power.”
Minister Golen laughed, a genuine outburst that caught Barent off guard. “Having a full five percent of the population armed and on our payroll does have its advantages, Sergeant. But the army was actually created to fight off any Earth ships that might show up and try to retake the colony. That reason disappeared long ago, of course. Because after five hundred years, it’s pretty clear to everyone that they’re never coming. But what you say is only partially true, Sergeant Barent. Our biggest asset in holding onto power has always been you.”
“Me?”
“Oh, yes. You. The Great Betrayer. The Collective has remained in power for half a millennium by following two very simple strategies, Sergeant: lethally removing any trace of dissent as soon as we uncover it, and undermining the real power of the Great Betrayer’s memory quietly in the background—while publicly building up your myth as a tool for our own purposes.”
“That approach may have worked in the past, Golen, but you can’t possibly believe the people will fall for your lies this time. They won’t buy this testament of yours, not for a minute.” Barent pushed the recording device back across the table. “If anything, it will only incense them further.”
“Oh…some of them, I’m sure,” Golen replied. “And they’ll be drawn out into the open where we can deal with them. But mark my words, Sergeant Barent: by this time next week, this will all be over, with or without your cooperation. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to deal with malcontents. As you say, it’s why we have the military.”
Barent grinned. “I told you, Golen. It won’t work. You have no idea what’s coming. But you are going to find out…and soon.”
Minister Golen scowled, sliding his chair back from the table to stand up. “I’m done here,” he announced. Then he placed the recording device back in his pocket and strode over to the storage cabinet.
“General Malves,” Golen said over his shoulder. “On the off chance that Sergeant Barent and his Warden friends really do have some kind of surprise up their sleeves, interrogate him and find out what they’re up to.”
And that was exactly what Barent had hoped for.
The Collective forces were already on high alert, so warning Golen that something was about to happen hadn’t changed anything. But it did buy Barent some time while they attempted to interrogate him. And if he had time, he had hope. Despite the risks, Barent knew they’d never get the truth out of him about the forces he’d assembled, or his plans to take the city, so he’d had little to lose in the gambit.
Minister Golen keyed in a security code to open the cabinet, and then reached in to pull Barent’s pistols out, twisting them around in the harsh light to admire the weapons from different angles.
“The pistols of the Great Betrayer,” he said. “These will be the pinnacles of my collection. I’ll be certain to display them right next to Dani Lok’s own weapons, Sergeant.” Golen turned around in time to see Barent’s eyebrows lift at the mention of his former lover’s name.
“Oh yes, Sergeant Barent. I know all about your relationship with Lok. And how she betrayed you at the end of the war. Her final testament in the Vade is most revealing—the unsanitized version, of course.” Golen smirked. “You know, she actually regretted your death at the end. For what that’s worth. Maybe you can find some small amount of solace in that before you truly die this time. Just think, Sergeant, once I add your weapons to my display, you and Lok will even be reunited again, in a manner of speaking.”
Barent did feel comforted by Dani’s regret. It told him that her motivations were genuine, and not personal—that she was worried about the future of the colony, and did what she thought was best for the people of the city. So even though Golen had brought up Dani Lok to torment him, it had had quite the opposite effect.
Since Golen appeared to be in a sharing mood, flush with the feeling of impending victory, Barent had a question of his own.
“How did you find us, Golen? How did you learn about my meeting with the Wardens at the breakdown facility?”
“You already know that Vane was ours,” he explained, continuing to examine one of the pistols closely. Golen paused to brush two fingers across the mahogany grips, admiring the darkish red wood. He realized that particular species of tree hadn’t made the trip to Torvus, making the weapons even more unique. “He couldn’t contact us directly, of course. But when Vane reprogrammed our information platform, he secretly instructed it to record your transmissions and then return to us. So once we knew where you were headed, we simply monitored the breakdown yards from a distance until we saw you enter. It was easy.”
“I wouldn’t call it easy,” Malves interjected. “I lost nearly a hundred men on that operation. And many more were injured.”
“But the Wardens are scattered,” Golen countered. “And we have Sergeant Barent. A victory by anyone’s definition.”
Golen returned the pistols to the cabinet and closed the door, resetting the lock. When he turned to address Malves, the general noted the concern on his face.
“How many Wardens still remain at large?” Golen asked.
“We think no more than fifty. We’re still trying to find them, but they never stay in one place long enough to track.”
“Fifty Wardens could create a lot of trouble,” Golen said. “A smaller force than that attacked the armory. But I think I know how we can draw them out—and break their will at the same time.”
“How?” Malves asked.
“We know which Wardens are still alive, don’t we?”
“More or less…”
“And they all have families.”
“Minister!” Malves reacted indignantly, walking over to stand before Golen. “We can’t… Are you suggesting that we kill their families?”
“Suggesting? No, General Malves, I’m ordering you to do it. The Wardens will swarm out of hiding in a hopeless stab at revenge. And then we’ll wipe them out, putting this nuisance behind us once and for all. But more importantly, it will send a clear message to those who oppose us that no one is safe.”
When Sergeant Barent spoke, his words didn’t come out as a threat, they came out as a promise. “You’re an animal, Golen…one that needs to be put down. And I will see that happen, no matter how long it takes.”
Barent’s voice was calm, but laced with menace. If anything, the lack of outward emotion made the Warden seem all the more dangerous.
But Golen was unfazed, and he stepped over to the door to pull it open. “Find out what he knows, General Malves. And then kill him. Do it quickly—and the same with the Warden’s families.” He started to leave, but then Golen stopped and tapped his forehead lightly. “I almost forgot. Have Barent’s pistols sent to my office, I’ll clear some space for them.”
Sergeant Barent watched as the leader of the Collective left the room, wondering at the callousness that made life so inconsequential to a man like Golen. How could a person become so twisted—so cold and indifferent—that they could order the deaths of innocent people, just to make a largely futile statement?
But Barent knew there had always been men and women like Minister Golen, and the oppressive regimes they invariably administered. It was diseased people like that who’d driven the brutal wars back on Earth, sociopathic murderers who were instrumental in making humans flee their home planet to start over. They’d
forced a host of humanity out deep into the heavens, searching for new lives—far away from the madness that had killed so many billions.
But no matter how distant they flew across the cosmos Barent knew it would never be far enough. Because monsters like Golen were proof that mankind’s baser nature followed him no matter where he went.
Even out to the stars.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Uprising
So far, so good, Tana thought to herself.
She was grateful, and more than a little surprised that things had gone so smoothly up to this point—far better than she’d ever imagined possible with these dissimilar groups of people. Each faction held contradictory views about how life on this planet should be lived, driven by their own separate paths to survival over the years. Yet they were all working together now toward a common goal.
Through brute force with the Exiles, clever bargaining with the Olin, and what Tana believed bordered on religious adoration by the Wardens, Barent had managed to put this loose coalition of forces together in a very short amount of time. But getting them to work together might be an even tougher task. She knew that each of the groups were deadly in their own right—battle tested, and with the scars to prove it—but she couldn’t help but wonder if that effectiveness might diminish as they fought jointly, side-by-side.
Tana had no military experience whatsoever. But to her, two sworn enemies, and an elite group of highly trained warriors that didn’t trust either one of them, didn’t seem like the makings of a particularly cohesive fighting force. But there was promise in their power, and in Barent’s absence Sergeant Dura had done all he could to forge the Olin and Exiles into a unified army—with a complete, if somewhat tenuous, chain of command. The Wardens they’d meet up with later to complete the coalition would follow his orders without question, and as for the downtrodden… Well, who really knew what they’d do when the war began?
