by Rachel Ford
“Actually,” Kel smiled, lifting the bag he was holding with one hand and gesturing to it with the other, “Nik rather thought I might be able to help you.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” he admitted.
“She mentioned you seemed to be in some pain. Something about an injury, in a tunnel collapse. On Theta.”
Brek remembered Nikia’s concern, and he felt a bigger fool than ever. “It’s nothing, Doctor. I told her that this morning. It’s practically healed.”
“Well…” Kel shrugged. “If that’s so, it won’t hurt to take a look.”
He frowned at the doctor. “Really, it’s nothing.”
“Excellent. Then, once I’ve had a look, I can tell Nik you’re perfectly fine.”
He blinked at the other man’s deliberate obstinance, but before he could offer any further objection, Kel continued, “May I come in?”
“Um, sure.” With a careful step, he moved aside, and the doctor entered. “But this is a waste of time.”
Doctor Kel smiled benignly. “Quite possibly. Will you take a seat, Minister Trigan?”
Perhaps it was his long habit of taking orders. Perhaps it was the confident air with which this stranger gave his orders. Whatever it was, Brek found himself complying, inwardly protesting all the while.
He settled on one of the sofas. It was, oddly enough, the first time he’d sat since he was introduced to his new living space. Kel followed, saying, “That’s quite a limp you’ve got going on, Minister.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Hmm.” He adjusted Brek’s leg, so that the ankle hung just over the seat. “I don’t usually make house calls, you know. But Nik’s not one for false alarms.” He smiled up at him. “She’s something of a stubborn patient too.”
Brek frowned at the use of ‘too,’ and the implication inherent to it. “You know Minister Idan well, then?”
“Oh yes.” Kel removed his boot, quietly observing as he winced. Then, he resumed the thread of conversation as he raked fingers up and down his ankle, prodding the swollen and sensitive tissue. He seemed to find every inflamed nerve along the way, and Brek was in so much pain he barely heard. “Since she took her first breath. I was there, you know, when she was born. I was Luk and Elsa’s physician, too.”
Finally, after a series of hmm’s and huh’s, the torturer withdrew his hands. Brek realized he’d been holding onto the sofa back, clutching so hard his knuckles had turned white. He cleared his throat, and tried to speak in an unaffected tone. “L-Luk and Elsa Aldir?”
“That’s right.” Kel was going through his bag, but he nodded his confirmation.
“They were Grand Contributors, weren’t they?”
Now, the doctor glanced up at him. “Yes. And good people, Minister. Not perfect. Nik could tell you a few things about that. But they were good people.”
Brek was unconvinced, but he didn’t press the point. “Velk had them executed, didn’t he?”
“Yes. He thought it would stop Nik. He thought it would demoralize the revolution.” Kel smiled, and it was a bittersweet expression. “He grossly miscalculated. But Luk and Elsa are still gone.”
“I’m sorry.” Whatever he thought of Grand Contributors – and his opinions had changed so many times in the last two months, he wasn’t entirely sure what he did think – murder was beyond the pale.
“Me too.”
“It must be very difficult for Minister Idan.” He remembered her drawn face, and the air of fatigue about her.
“Yes.” Kel arranged a handful of supplies on an end table beside them. “She and the Aldirs had only just reconnected. They cut her off, you know, when she married Grel.”
“I didn’t,” he admitted. The fact was, the news rather surprised him. He’d imagined her a kind of wealthy benefactor, rather than someone for whom the struggle was personal. “Why?”
“His politics. They couldn’t – they thought they couldn’t – have a revolutionary in the family. It wasn’t until the pregnancy that they reconnected again. And now…” Kel shook his head. “Now they’re all dead: Grel, Elsa, and Luk.”
Brek pondered that as the doctor worked. “So she’s not a Grand Contributor?”
Kel laughed. “No. Not that there’s likely to be any such title anymore, I suppose. But, no, Nik isn’t a Grand Contributor.”
He nodded. “Well, I suppose that’s something, then.”
Kel surveyed him with a bemused expression for a moment. Then, he turned his attention back to his leg. “Your ankle, Minister, is far from fine. It is sprained and – I’d need an x-ray to confirm – but I’m quite certain fractured, too. You must be in a good deal of pain. Walking must be an agony.”
Brek shrugged. “Not really,” he lied. The truth was, it hurt like hell. But he’d just supposed that was how it was meant to feel, until it healed.
Kel frowned at him. “Did you see a doctor, after your injury?”
He shook his head. The camp’s medic had volunteered to look at it, but he’d brushed this off at the time. “We don’t really have a doctor. The Consortium’s men went with them.”
“Well, you need a doctor now. You’re going to have to wear a cast, for a month at least. Probably longer.”
“A cast? Doctor, that’s ridiculous. I have to be in parliament. I have to represent my moon. I can’t…well, I can’t go in there like a cripple.” Piling onto the doubts already crowding his mind, the idea of limping in like some kind of shattered stray in a cast filled him with consternation.
Kel raised an eyebrow. “I can have it finished before the session begins. And as far as the cast…well, we have MP’s who lost limbs in the fight for this city. Minister Keldon lost an eye. Nali lost a leg. It’s practically a requirement to have lost something, or taken a wound at least, before they let you in the doors. I’m not sure your cast will be enough, to be honest.”
His tone was light, but the words nonetheless served to relax Brek a measure. “Is it really necessary?”
“Well, that depends. Do you like being able to walk? If so, then, yes, sooner rather than later. If you want the fracture to get worse, until you can’t walk, until it’s less likely to heal – much less heal right – then, no, don’t worry about it.”
He sighed. “Fine. A cast it is, I suppose.”
“A wise choice, Minister.”
Chapter Five
Kel finished the cast with plenty of time to spare, as he promised. “You see, Minister? We’re done, and you’re ready to attend your first session.”
Brek eyed the monstrous wrapping dubiously. It was heavy, and seemed to double the size of his foot. “How am I going to walk in that, Doctor?”
“Carefully,” Kel smiled. “And as little as possible. I’ll have crutches delivered as soon as I’m back.”
“Crutches?” he scowled. The other man really was determined to make him look like some kind of invalid.
“Yes. You’ll get used to them quickly enough. In the meantime…” He extended a hand to the prone MP. “I will help you get to your car.”
“I don’t need assistance.”
Kel sighed. “Minister, with all due respect, that’s a damned fine cast. And I’d appreciate if you didn’t allow your hubris to waste my handiwork.”
Brek’s scowl deepened, but he took the proffered hand. “I’ll be sure to thank Minister Idan,” he said, somewhat snippily, “for all the ‘assistance’ you’ve rendered.”
The doctor smiled at his sarcasm. “It’s all part of the service. Now come on, Minister. Let’s get you to your transport.”
The other man’s tone was coaxing, cajoling almost, as if he was talking to a petulant child. Which, of course, did nothing to improve his mood. Nor did the cumbersome way his foot seemed to club the ground, or the effort it took to move in the cast at all. Still, he was in enough pain to be distracted from griping.
Perhaps seeing his grimaces, Kel said, “It will be easier when the crutches arrive. And I’ll send some pain killers with them. T
hat will help too.”
Here, at last, was a solution that registered with Brek. “Thank you,” he mumbled.
“Of course.” The doctor shrugged. “Nik asked me to make sure you were alright.”
“Very considerate of her,” he said, a touch acerbically. They’d reached the transport now, and Kel opened the door for him and helped ease him into the back seat. Grunting as he pulled himself in, Brek repeated, “Thank you, Doctor.”
The other man nodded but didn’t at once close the door. “My pleasure. And Minister?”
“Yes?”
“You’re new to this city – and to politics, yes?”
He blinked. “That’s right.”
“I’m only a physician, and not a minister like yourself. And, I may be biased on the topic. But…if you’ll allow me to offer some advice?”
Their acquaintance was short, but Brek had a pretty good read, he thought, on the other man. He suspected Kel would do it one way or the other, regardless of what he said. So he nodded.
“You’re about to find yourself surrounded by new friends, Minister. You’ll probably find that people are more eager to assist than you ever thought they would be.” He smiled wryly. “It’s a miracle, how obliging a seat in parliament makes people.”
“Are you…saying I should be careful who I trust, Doctor?” Did he really look like such a neophyte that the other man deemed this necessary?
“Not exactly.” Now, he shrugged. “I told you that Nik sent me this morning. What I didn’t tell you was, when she asked me to look in on you? She didn’t want me to tell you she’d sent me.”
Brek frowned. “Why?”
He shrugged again. “Because that’s Nik’s way. And that, I think, is something you will find very rare in politics.”
He hadn’t been entirely sure of what to make of Kel’s comments. That the physician had meant to imply that Nikia Idan could be trusted, he knew well enough. But if they’d been offered in the spirit of genuine solicitude, he couldn’t say. As his transport conveyed him across the way to parliament, an idea took form in his mind. Had Nikia asked her friend to lie on her behalf?
Was she, for whatever reason, one of those new ‘friends’ to whom Kel alluded? Was the doctor part of a ploy to ingratiate her into his favor. He grimaced at the cast, thinking it was a poor attempt, if that was the case.
Still, he couldn’t shake the suspicion. He’d been greeted not by one, but two, MP’s that morning, after all. And then, not long after they’d fed and flattered him, Doctor Kel had shown up, singing Nikia’s praises.
He frowned, wondering what it all meant. His was one vote. Surely, one vote would not be worth the trouble and subterfuge. Then again, this was politics. Who could say what their goal might be? Certainly not – as Kel had pointed out – a stranger to Central like himself.
Before the car had even come to a halt, he made up his mind to put his theory to the test. Such considerations were temporarily pushed aside, though, as he found himself left to make his way on his own in this new, infernal contraption bound to his leg.
He limped his way into the building, grimacing with every step. Once inside, though, he found himself temporarily waylaid by simple awe. He’d seen the House of Parliament earlier that day. He’d marveled already at its cut stone exterior, at the glimmering jewels and precious metals adorning its face. He’d been struck by the four towers at the four corners of the building, and the way their spires shimmered in the morning starlight.
Now, as he passed through the great, arched doors, he paused to take in the aged grandeur all around him. Marble floors and polished wood paneling, brilliant frescoes and high arched ceilings, crystal chandeliers and intricate wooden carvings, were everywhere. Footsteps echoed, loud and imperious, down the dimly lit halls. Voices carried far, even in hushed tones.
There was a gravity here, an overwhelming sense of majesty and solemnity, he could feel in his very bones. It humbled him, more than anything he’d encountered so far.
“Minister Trigan?” a voice called. “Pardon me: Brek.”
He started, surprised as much by the speaker as the suddenness from which he was drawn from his thoughts. “Nikia Idan,” he nodded.
The young woman smiled. “This is your first time in the House of Parliament?”
He nodded, feeling again very foolish. He was, he supposed, gaping like an imbecile. “That’s right.”
She nodded in turn. “I saw it many months ago, when I was a child. But…” She shrugged. “I still feel a child, sometimes, stepping into these halls.”
It was an apt description. There was something, no doubt by design, about this building that made a visitor seem very small and humble by comparison. It wouldn’t, he imagined, have mattered much if he’d been dressed in the robes of a Grand Contributor, or in all the gold adornments and badges of office of the Supreme Leader himself. Standing here, in the shadow of so many centuries, upon the ground tread by so many generations before, he would feel not much more than a speck of dust in the cosmic timeline. “It is…certainly a humbling experience.”
She smiled again. “Yes. Yes, it is.” Now, she glanced at his cast. “Do you…need assistance, Minister?”
He followed the direction of her gaze, then shook his head. “No, it’s a walking cast.” Now, though, he remembered his resolution. And he brought his eyes back to her before saying, “Although, I understand from Doctor Kel, I have you to thank for it.”
A flash of surprise crossed her features, and it was unmistakably genuine. “Doctor Kel said…?” she began, questioningly. Then, she dropped the point. “That is, it was nothing.”
Brek was confused. He’d more or less settled on the notion that Kel had mentioned Nikia’s part in his visit on her directions. She’d seemed so mortified by the prospect just now, though, that he could only believe the other man: that she had not intended him to know. “I’m in your debt, Minister,” he pressed.
“You’re not. It was nothing.” Now, though, she seemed to master her surprise. “But – if you don’t mind my asking – are you alright? I suppose not, if you require a cast?”
“Oh…” Brek shook his head. “Apparently, I fractured the damned thing.” Then, as she flinched, he caught himself. “Pardon me, Minister. The blessed thing.”
Nikia laughed. “You’re fine, Brek. I’ve heard far worse – and in these halls. But a fracture? That must have hurt – like hell.”
He smiled. The word seemed incongruous, rolling off the lips of such a dignified person. “I’ve felt better,” he conceded.
“Did Kel give you anything, for the pain?”
“Not yet. He’s sending it, with crutches.”
“Ah, good. Well, in that case, shall we?”
He, though, hesitated. “The truth is, Minister, I’m not sure where I’m going.”
She smiled. “Nikia. And, I’ll show you.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course.” She indicated one of the grander halls. “This way.”
“My timing was fortuitous, I suppose.”
“How do you mean?”
“I got here at the same time as you. Otherwise, I might have spent a month wandering this place, and still not have found my destination.”
She laughed. “I’ve been here most of the morning. My office is down that way.” She gestured toward a hall behind them.
“Oh.”
“You have an office too.”
He nodded, saying again only, “Oh.”
“I’m not sure where, exactly. With the new ministers coming in from the moons and colonies, that whole wing is in flux. I’ve been shuffled three times.” She smiled. “But once the session concludes, I can help you find it, if you like.”
“Brek,” a voice called before he had a chance to respond.
He recognized the speaker before he glimpsed the smiling face. “Minister Telari.”
“Davis,” the other man reminded him. “Good to see you again.” He joined the duo, pausing to shake Brek’s h
and. “I trust the accommodations are to your liking?”
“Oh, yes. Very nice.”
“Good. Excellent. I thought they would be. And don’t worry, as far as your neighbors go. I put you in with a bunch of other ministers – the whole place is MP’s.” He grinned, and shrugged. “Although, I suppose, it’s debatable whether throwing you into a building full of politicians is a good turn.”
The other man’s laugh suggested he should signal amusement too, and he smiled at the comment. But he was more curious than amused. “Do you both live in the same building, then?”
“Me? Oh, no. I live with my wife, in one of the residential districts. Those of us from the city stay in our own homes, unless they’re too far from the House of Parliament.”
“I’m staying with Doctor and Fenya Kel,” Nikia added. “For now, anyway.”
“Oh.” That surprised him too. On his first visit to Red Central, he’d glimpsed some of the palatial homes in the residential district, where the Grand Contributors lived. He assumed, now that her parents were dead, one of those belonged to Nikia. “I see.”
Chapter Six
The session began with the swearing in of new MP’s. Brek found himself in the center of the chamber with about two dozen men and women from colonies throughout the empire. These were the newly elected regional and colonial representatives from worlds like his own – subsidiary planets and moons, for the first time claiming an equal seat at the table – and from the far settlements of Central.
Presider Grik welcomed the new members with a speech that seemed a little too longwinded for Brek, as he stood on one foot, trying to keep his weight off the cast. Finally, the presider read an oath of service, asking the new members to repeat after him. It was a straightforward pledge that they would serve the Tribari people, eschewing any other considerations, in their new roles.
Then, it was done. Grik congratulated the new members of that august body, and the chamber welcomed them with applause.
The Thetan parliamentarian was seated between a pair of representatives from the manufacturing moon Delta, and the colony planet Red Kri.
