by S A Shaffer
David didn’t pause to celebrate. He scooped it up and ran out of the vault. Switching off the light and swinging the massive door shut, he sprinted across the office. He paused before exiting long enough to position the black cylinder against his chest, cradling it with his mechanical arm. He shouldered the door open so that his back faced Gerald. To David’s great relief, Hans hadn’t returned to his post on the left side of the door, and no one was there to see what he had pressed against his chest as he walked down the corridor. He allowed a smirk to slither across his face until he reached the top of the stairs and realized he was trapped. Blythe and Hans rounded the bend in the spiraling stairway, deep in conversation as they climbed the last flight to the third floor. Without missing a step, David continued down the hall and out the exit that led to the promenade deck. He prayed they had not seen him.
Once outside, he shivered as the icy wind chilled him. The sun hung a hand’s width above the horizon, giving the cloud carpet a brilliant golden sheen. The promenade deck of the orbital was initially designed for representatives to stroll in-between sessions of Assembly, though few people used it these days. Manicured shrubberies filled the polymer boxes that scattered the walkway around the tops of Orbital balloons. Here and there a fountain burbled in brass-colored basins. David stepped out onto the Promenade and wished he had remembered his coat, not only to protect from the cold but also to conceal his pilfered goods. He walked around a few planter boxes to the edge of the deck and leaned against the railing.
What was he to do now? He held something of more importance than top-secret documents, and he had no way to conceal it. He could walk all the way around the Promenade and enter the orbital at one of the other entrances, but, there again, he had no way of concealing what he carried, and he’d forgot his pass in his coat pocket. There were any number of guards along the way, and a security checkpoint before he could enter the Speaker’s offices. He let out a steamy breath as the cold started to prickle his nose. That’s when he heard the door shut, and Blythe’s voice call out.
“David, are you up here?”
David whirled around and saw the Speaker rounding a planter less than twenty paces away. David looked down at the cylinder in his arm and gulped. He searched around, and, on a whim, he tossed the object into the planter box beside him. When he looked up, Blythe was striding toward him from around the planter box, Gerald and Hans on his heals. David tried on a smile, but it ill-suited him. The guards only escorted the Speaker when there was something amiss or trouble in the air. However, Blythe stepped up to him with the same warm smile he always wore.
“I’ve been worried about you. You disappeared so suddenly last night and missed most of the party. I hope everything is ok?”
“Um, yes. I had to leave because of my mother. I don’t like staying away for too long at a time.”
“Hmm, I see. She’s feeling alright, though? No concerns?” As Blythe asked the question, David noticed his eyes flick ever so quickly to the bushes where he had tossed the cylinder. A simple motion, but it brought a flash of heat to David’s face so suddenly that a trickle of sweat slid down his neck.
“No, no, none at all. She’s fine.”
“You’re sure?”
David nodded with a content purse of his lips.
“I see.” Blythe said, nodding as he spoke, but then he put a hand on David’s shoulder and looking him full in the face. “David, you’ve been acting very strange these past few days. You’re not your usual self. So I’m only going to ask you this once, and I want the truth. Is there anything you wish to tell me?”
David fought to keep his face placid as he shook his head. “No sir, I’m fine, honestly.”
Blythe nodded along with David as he straightened up and crossed his arms. Then the man sighed as he reached into the planter box and retrieved the black cylinder. David’s heart sank. Blythe held the device in front of him with a questioning look, but David said nothing as he hung his head, unable to hide the guilt as he examined his shoes. Blythe turned the object over in his hands a few times before grasping one end and sliding off a cap with a hollow pop. He looked inside the cylinder, and then down at David.
It started as a smile, then rolled into a chuckle, and finally, an all-out laugh. Blythe laughed until he held his sides and moaned.
“David, I just spent an evening with a woman 20 cycles my junior in the most scandalous fashion. And yet, you’re the one blushing about something as trivial as a smoking ban on the orbital. Aw, David,” Blythe said as he massaged his forehead. “Sometimes, I forget how young you are.”
David looked down at the cylinder as perplexed as ever. Blythe pulled out some loose straw, and a waft of musky scent filled David’s nose. He tried to laugh, but his body had experienced such a range of emotions it came out as a whine. Blythe slid out a seven-inch stick and held it up to the sun.
“Hang on.” He said as he brought the cigar closer to his face and squinted at the label. “David, do you have any idea what these are?” He looked at David with wide eyes. “Royal Empress Cigars! These are Viörn and just about the finest I’ve ever seen.” He turned the cylinder’s cap over and read the inscription. “Great maker, 2277! These are vintage, hand-rolled cigars, and the most coveted cycle. Speaker Spencer smoked cigars like these during the protectorate wars. The Assembly used to complain because they couldn’t understand him, as he habitually spoke with one in his mouth. My goodness, David, where in the Fertile Plains did you find them? They probably cost 100 sterling apiece.”
David’s mouth fell open, but he quickly shut it and struggled to spin a tail. “My, well, my grandfather had a few boxes. He’s gone now, and I’ve been going through his things. I had no idea they were worth so much money.”
Blythe ran the fat cigar under his nose and closed his eyes as he breathed in. Then he looked around in a quick motion, and back at David. “I’d love a good smoke. How about we light up a pair.” He didn’t wait for David to answer. “Hans, Gerald, see to it nobody sees us.” Blythe walked around the planter and sat on a bench on the other side, motioning for David to join him. “Got a light?” He asked as he nipped off one end of his cigar and spit the bits off the side of the orbital.
“Um, in my haste I left it in my office.”
Blythe chuckled as he shook his head. He handed David the cigar case, and David did his best to imitate him, as he had never smoked a cigar in his life.
“Hans, you have any matches?” Blythe asked.
The burly man walked over and handed Blythe a little box of matches, before returning to his watch. Blythe struck up a match and sheltered it from the wind as he lit his cigar. After a few moments, a puff of rolling smoke wafted from his mouth and carried away in the breeze. He handed the matches to David as he leaned back on the bench and closed his eyes, breathing out a contented sigh.
David used several matches as the wind kept blowing them out. He was glad Blythe had his eyes closed. Finally, David lit up a match and jammed the cigar into the flame until it started to smoke. He sucked the head until his cheeks drew inward, but nothing happened. He’d forgot to bite off the cap. By the time he’d done so, his cigar had nearly smothered itself. He blew some life back into the cinders, took a long pull and promptly swallowed. The thick smoke billowed out of his nose, and he fought convulsions.
Blythe opened his eyes and looked at him. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, fine. I got some smoke in my eyes, that’s all.”
The Speaker nodded and sighed again. “This is the life, is it not? Beautiful women, fine parties, fine wines, and excellent cigars. You know, I’m not sure I can say I’ve ever been as happy.”
David nodded his assent as he swallowed away a cough. “Agreed.” He added in a raspy voice. He looked at the cigar in his hand and inwardly groaned as he put it to his lips for another drag.
“Everything is going according to plan.” Blythe said as another waft of smoke poured from his lips. He made it look so easy. “My scientists have come up
with a drug solution for both children and adults. It will reduce depression and increase cognitive function in all our citizens. I met with Don Johnson last week, and he is ecstatic. His facilities are working overtime to produce the compound by next week. Imagine it, David: Our people free of depression and anxiety, free to go about their day without hindrance. Children learning in schools without any intellectual stunting.
“Sounds like utopia.” David said in between stomach contractions.
“That it does. We aren’t perfect, though. I’m already beginning to feel resistance from the few Pragmatics left in the Assembly. Hopefully, my next economic plan will force them right out of office.”
“You mentioned that in your speech last night. What do you have in mind?”
Blythe crossed his legs and took another puff on his cigar. He put his arm around David and squinted the way he always did right before he wanted to have an intellectual conversation.
“Do you know how to generate a political base?” He asked.
David shrugged. “Serve the peoples’ needs?”
Blythe shook his head. “Before that. You have to generate a need, or a crisis, something only you have the solution to fix.” He poked a finger in David’s chest a few times for emphasis. “It forces people to believe in your campaign because you were the first one to see the problem and provide the solution. Honestly, at its base, there really isn’t much need for the Assembly beyond keeping the peace and promoting trade. Wars are few and far between, and the dons could promote trade just as easily as we could. You have to convince people you’re needed; the greater the need, the greater the support. That’s what my economic plan is all about. I’m going to convince people, not only in Equalist districts but in the remaining Pragmatic district as well, that they need our help.” Blythe finished his explanation with a pull from his cigar.
“How’s that?”
“By taking away pragmatic money and giving it to Equalists.” Blythe said with a smile. “It’s that simple. I’m going to pull funds from wealthy businesses, particularly in the 6th, and shunt it to our poorer district. The poorer district will love me for it.”
“But how will that convince people from Pragmatic districts that they need your help? They won’t exactly thank you for taking their money?”
“Only the business owners. The common workers, which outnumber the owners 100 to 1, will be the first to feel the hurt. The business owner will no longer be able to pay them as they once did, and the common workers will turn to me for a solution. It won’t take much, only a little shove for them to blame their woes on their employers and their Pragmatic representatives. How long after that will it be before the Equalists have complete control?”
“Not long.” David said with a nod of his head and a frown at his cigar. “Will it harm our economy?”
“At first, but we can fix that later in a controlled environment.”
“What of the Fertile Plains unification and the deconstruction of the Armada? You mentioned that too. Have the Viörn and Berg reached out to you for a peace summit?”
Blythe nodded. “I’m to attend the Royal wedding, and, while there, we plan to have talks of a unified Fertile Plains.”
“Wouldn’t that be something.” David said, feeling his guts turn inside out. Something was not right with his innards.
“That it would.” Blythe said as he slapped David on the back. The movement caused David to choke as he swallowed back a gulp of bile. Blythe stood as he continued to puff on his cigar.
“Well, I best be off. Many things to do this season before our golden day retreat.” He started to walk away toward Hans and Gerald, but he stopped halfway to them.
“Oh, and if you want to smoke in your office, I think I can let it slip.” He put the cigar between smiling lips as he continued toward the door.
David sat there for a moment and watched the three men leave the Promenade deck. Then he leaned over the railing and spewed sick into the Alönian sky. He looked down at his cigar and tossed it over the side after his breakfast. David picked up the case and slid the lid on, loathing the sight of it. After exiting the Promenade deck, he passed by Bethany’s office and saw her slumped over her desk in a mess of blond hair. No sooner had he entered his own office, he felt another bout of nausea. He leaned over his wastebasket and dry-heaved.
“Mate, you’re an absolute moron.” A voice said as a light switched on.
David looked up from his trash can, spittle dripping from his chin, at a man sitting with his feet crossed on top of the desk. “Francisco? What on earth are you doing in…” but the rest was lost in a gag.
Francisco picked up the case of cigars, where it lay rolling around on the desk. “How did you manage to turn such a work of art into a puking nightmare? He took one of the cigars out and rolled it between his fingers. “For future reference, never swallow cigar smoke.”
David used a tissue to wipe his chin. “How are you supposed to smoke it if you can’t swallow?”
“How am I supposed to get my job done when I have to work with an imbecile like yourself? First, answer me that? You were supposed to retrieve an experimental Viörn transponder, not custom Viörn cigars.”
“Well, they didn’t tell me it was a transponder… Wait, you? You’re the agent?”
“It doesn’t matter what they told you. What idiot would come back with a case of cigars? I suppose it’s for the best, given that you botched it anyway.”
“I didn’t know it was a cigar case. It was the only black cylinder in the vault.”
Francisco held up his own black cylinder, only this one had a black sheen to its surface and looked to be made of metal. “Did you try looking in the box in the middle of the floor?”
“Yeah… No.” David said with a frown. Thinking back to the box he’d stood upon to look on top of the shelves. “I didn’t think to look there. Hang on, how do you have it?”
“I went in after you scuttled off with your cigars, like a panicked Loper. Somebody conveniently forgot to relock the vault. Despite how hard you tried to thwart this job, you actually did manage to do one thing of use. It was rather simple work with the guards gone.”
David flushed with embarrassment. Everything about this was unsettling, especially the fact that Francisco had said more words in the last five minutes than David had heard him use during their entire acquaintance. Not to mention, he spoke with a strange accent he had never heard before. “Well, I’m sorry, alright. It’s not exactly my line of work. I’m just trying to help. How did you see all of that anyway? There was nobody else on the third floor but myself and the guards.”
Francisco folded his arms. “We all have our areas of expertise.”
Even if he didn’t say it, David speculated the bionic eye played a part. “Well, don’t you have to copy it or something.”
“Already did that while you were turning green on the top deck. But, since you’re so eager to help, how about you find a way to put it back before he notices it’s missing.”
David jumped as Francisco tossed him the transponder. “But... what do I do after that?”
“We’ll be in touch.” Francisco said as he stood from the chair and walked toward the office door. “Oh, and this time, try not to confuse the cigar case with the cylinder.”
David watched Francisco leave, spittle still dripping from his chin. He stood up from the wastebasket, trying to think of a way to get the case back into the vault while also holding down his nausea. All the excitement of the past hour had drained him and returning to Blythe’s office was the last thing he wanted to do. He decided to start small—cleaning his face and the wastebasket in the washroom sink—but as he returned to his office, he looked at the wastebasket in his arms, and he had a thought. Grabbing his satchel, David took one of the financial reports he’d been working on and stuffed it and the transponder inside. He took a deep breath, picked up the cigar case, and ascended the stairs once again. After knocking and receiving permission, he entered Blythe’s office. B
lythe sat at his desk on the far end of the office, pouring through some papers and sipping from a glass filled with his favorite pink liquid.
“Ahh, David. Something you need?”
“No, sir, I’m just returning a report I took from the vault this morning.”
“Very good, well, go right ahead. You remember the combination?”
David nodded as he spun the dials and pulled the door open. Regardless, Blythe stood from his desk and meandered across the room toward him. David opened the vault as quick as his fingers would allow and slipped in before while Blythe was still several strides away. As Blythe entered the vault, David was just sliding his insignificant financial report in between a massive stack of classified Armstad Defense specs.
