by Ian Miller
"Harry."
"Then if your friend claims to be sent by Harius of the Quirinal, I shall cure him or her."
"No matter what?" Harry asked with a touch of disbelief.
"No matter what," came the calm reply, "provided they are actually alive. And now, my young friends, I must ask you to leave me for the time being. However, before I go, I should thank you for your entertaining me.
"Why have you helped us?" Marisa asked. "There's no profit for you, except our gratitude."
"First, young lady, not everybody is governed by profit. Second, one day you may find we both need each other. In the meantime, have faith and trust me, and believe me, contact with you has made me very happy. I have gained more out of this than you can imagine."
"Who are you?" Marisa asked. "Where do you come from?"
"To your first question, all I can say is that I am a friend. Now, I am going to ask you to keep all the details of this secret. You tell nobody, except in your case," and he turned to Harry, "whomever you want cured."
" . . . and so with that we left," Harry concluded.
"That is some story," the Commissioner said softly. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking.
"I don't know how much of it was genuine," Harry warned. "That's what I saw, but I tell you, I saw the forum as if it was back when it was built. And the odd thing was, only the earliest part. The rest stayed as rubble."
"You're not trying to tell me he repaired the forum?"
"No. Merely he had powers of illusion the likes of which you can't imagine. So I have no idea how much is true. He could have been anything, maybe the killers didn't exist . . ."
"They did," Natasha shrugged, "and there's no sensible explanation for what decapitated them."
"He cured Marisa, and I haven't the foggiest how. I don't think he's M'starn, because if they could do what he did, the outcome at Columbus would have been different. On top of that, what pushed me felt exactly like a human hand, although why I don't know."
"Because he was human?"
"No human could have done that. I know everything was deceptive, but I do feel three things."
"Which are?"
"He knows of the M'starn, but he's not one of them. I think he's connected with whoever helped free Mars. Second, I really think he, she, or it, is sympathetic to us, and could be goaded into helping."
"And the third?" Natasha asked quietly, as Harry paused.
"I think you should see him. I think there's really a chance he can cure you."
Chapter 13
The Commissioners for Justice, Finance, and Environment all came from Europe, to act as a balance for the Corporate representatives from America and what had once been known as the Far East, but which was now more aptly known as the Centre. As they had little in common with the other Council members, it was usual for them to dine together on the eve of a meeting. As usual, they chose the suite of Elizabeth Garrett, the attractive auburn forty-three year-old Commissioner for Justice, who lived in Ealing. As usual, they arrived at the same time as the meal trolley. The Commissioners commanded a degree of security that was unheard of at any time on this planet, yet as Kleppe noted, the best security was when those affected directly checked and oversaw.
When the meal trolley reached the door, Imre Halas, the Hungarian Commissioner for the Environment, promptly signed the chit and closed the door firmly. No waiter was permitted to enter this suite. At thirty-eight he was the youngest of the trio, and although he was somewhat overweight, he seemed tireless. No matter how late he stayed up, he would appear at seven thirty the following morning for television interviews as bright and cheerful as could be. His warm and cheerful good looks were often considered one of the greatest advantages the environment could have. This evening, however, his looks were anything but cheerful.
Lorenz Kleppe, from Rapperswill, and the Commissioner for Finance, was the eldest of the three, the father figure. In public he was an austere figure, a man who epitomized financial rectitude, although in private he could be either quite a comical figure, or a nervous schoolboy. Tonight he was clearly nervous.
"Time to eat," Halas smiled towards Kleppe, who yet again had decided that it was not necessary to dress tidily for dinner.
"Also time to discuss some important issues," Elizabeth said, as she placed cutlery around the low table. "All for wine I presume?" Of the three, she seemed to be quite unconcerned, but those who knew her would realize that despite yet another demonstration of her legendary ability to appear unaffected by strain, from the tenseness in her hands as she grasped the wine bottle, from the way cutlery clanged uncharacteristically loudly on the plates, and from the slight spillage arising from wine emerging from the bottle slightly too quickly, that she was under considerable strain.
"Of course, my dear. I assume you mean these aliens?" Kleppe, if nothing else, was tidy in ordering the issues.
"The question is, what happens next?" Elizabeth said in a detached tone. "You realize, of course, that this could well be the last of these meals we have? The aliens could very well remove the ability of the Council to govern the Federation?"
"Worried about the loss of perks, are we?" Halas grinned.
"If that's the worst that happens, it'll be quite remarkable," Elizabeth snorted. "What do we do if the M'starn win?"
"Probably die," Halas shrugged, then noting Kleppe's shudder, he added, "Everyone connected with the Federation was targeted on Mars," he added as an explanation.
"There's no need to consider dying," Elizabeth responded, "because if they kill us, there's nothing much we can do anyway."
"Very practical," Halas noted, "so what's the problem?"
"There are two problems," Elizabeth shrugged. "If defeat is inevitable, what do we do? Secondly, if we aren't defeated, what do we do?"
"I don't understand the second problem," Kleppe frowned. "Surely we just continue?"
"Not being defeated doesn't mean things won't change," Elizabeth explained. "Suppose we had a bout of that Brownshirt trouble that Mars had?"
"The military would defeat them," Halas shrugged.
"Not if the military was smashed by the M'starn first," Elizabeth pointed out. "The occupation of Mars was so efficiently done, it had to be planned before it occurred."
"How?" Halas gave a skeptical shrug. "Are you suggesting the Brownshirts have space technology?"
"No, but they might have met the aliens earlier."
"So why would the aliens be interested in a bunch of settlers? Why wouldn't they contact the proper officials?" Halas asked scathingly.
"Oh! Aren't we just the ones for filling out the proper forms!" Elizabeth countered, equally scathingly. "Suppose the aliens wanted to trade, and they met representatives of corporations?"
"Corporations aren't allowed . . ." Halas continued scathingly, then paused, and added weakly, "on Mars."
"Convincingly put!" Elizabeth smiled. "The aliens want goods, these corporates provide goods, and . . ."
"And if the M'starn wish to invade Earth, the corporates are lined up ready to take advantage," Kleppe surmised. "I don't doubt old Harvey'd sell out to the aliens at a drop of a hat." He paused, and stared at the others, and added, "You don't believe me?"
"Lorenz, my old friend, I don't disagree," Halas replied, as he took another sip of wine. "Try some of this caviar. It's really delicious."
"Believe me," Kleppe continued, "Many of the leading corporates have no morals at all, but they're all afraid of Harvey except maybe the very biggest."
"Which means that those not allied to Harvey'd be in deep trouble," Elizabeth said, "which in turn suggests that it might be an idea to shackle Harvey and his ilk right now."
"On what grounds?" Halas asked curiously.
"I know!" Elizabeth grumbled a little. "If we follow strictly to the law, we can't stop Harvey, and I'm pretty sure Harvey won't keep strictly to the law."
"It's possible," Kleppe said softly, as he turned to Halas, "that all the corporations have pro
bably made some slip-ups in terms of environmental regulations. If we had a dossier, we could arrest the lot if it looked necessary, and –"
"You can't be serious," Halas blanched. "We haven't got the force."
"Natasha has," Elizabeth said softly.
"Won't she be occupied, say by the invasion?"
"If the manpower for the Martian invasion was really supplied by corporations, don't you think stopping the supply of said manpower here might just be connected?"
"Yes, but you have no evidence," Halas pointed out.
"I know," Elizabeth admitted.
"You can't go around arresting people just because you don't like them?"
"The Brownshirts do," Kleppe pointed out.
"Imre's right," Elizabeth conceded. "We're supposed to be better than that."
"Added to which," Halas added brightly, "I think you're worrying about nothing."
"Oh?" she asked pointedly, as she placed her empty plate back on the table.
"Think of Columbus," Halas pointed out. "A squad of little better than cadets on a training exercise beat off an invasion force. They're hardly likely to be able to beat our forces."
"Only two of the enemy were aliens," Elizabeth pointed out.
"Doesn't matter," Halas said. "The odds will be even worse when they hit Earth."
"I must admit that I don't understand that," Elizabeth said. "It was strangely easy."
"I think I do," Kleppe shrugged.
"Oh?" They both looked at Kleppe.
"From a pure military point of view," Kleppe noted, "Columbus has no strategic value, although it might from a psychological point of view."
"That wasn't quite what we were worried about," Elizabeth pointed out.
"So," Kleppe continued, "the M'starn probably didn't care one way or another."
"Then why bother in the first place?" Halas snorted.
"Suppose they were doing the same as us?" Kleppe pointed out. "Suppose that was a training exercise, or possibly an evaluation exercise?"
"Bullshit!" Halas snorted.
Elizabeth stared at Kleppe for a moment, as he retracted slightly from Halas' outburst, then she finally said softly, "Lorenz, that's brilliant!"
Halas stared at Elizabeth, as she quietly poured herself more wine. "Imre, think about it. You've somehow done a deal with this bunch of bullies, and suppose they want you to go further? Wouldn't you want to check out their ability?"
"They sent two of their own men, and one was very senior."
"Meaning the staff?" Elizabeth snorted. "We don't know that. That thing might have been there solely to impress the Brownshirts. Tell them the M'starn were taking this seriously."
"Then why were they there at all?" Halas asked, then added, as the thought struck him, "I suppose you'd say, if they were evaluating, they had to be there."
"Someone had to fly the craft too," Kleppe pointed out.
"Suppose you're right? So what? It doesn't change anything?" Halas shrugged.
"It does if it were a test," Elizabeth said. "They might have been deciding whether their allies had what it took to provide the manpower for the major task of dealing with Earth. If that's what it was, then surely that'd be a fail, and they'll do whatever they came to do, and go home."
"That's good!" Halas smiled. "Why worry about that?"
"Suppose," Elizabeth said quietly, "that Natasha notes their departure, sends a fleet to Mars and cleans out the corporates, then claimed that their departure was the consequence of a military defeat?"
"So she gets popular?"
"She'll be a lot more than popular," Elizabeth suggested. "She will be extraordinarily influential in some circles."
"I doubt that that will influence the Council much," Kleppe shrugged. "Most of the Councillors don't take an awful lot of notice of her now, so why will they start then?"
"My point exactly," Elizabeth said, then when she noticed Kleppe's frown of non-comprehension, she added, "Don't you think that Natasha's worked that out too?"
"I'd expect so," Kleppe said, "so she won't try."
"But suppose she wants more power," Elizabeth continued. "What else could she do besides lying down and retiring?"
"You think . . ?" Kleppe gasped.
"I don't know," Elizabeth shrugged, "but what do you think her options are?"
"Very few," Kleppe pointed out. "The general population wouldn't let her get away with much."
"And why not?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes boring into Kleppe with an intensity he had never seen before.
Kleppe almost shrunk a little from the stare, then, realizing he had to say something, he quipped, "Because they're all loyal to their corporations."
"Oh dear! Really Lorenz, you don't really believe that do you?" she sighed.
"Just think of all the fine things we've been told about corporate life that they would lose?" Kleppe grinned. "Would they really want to lose all those?"
"Whether the people really have anything to lose is an interesting discussion point," Elizabeth said, "but the fact is if they were promised by Kotchetkova that they wouldn't lose anything, and could well gain, they could well feel they have absolutely nothing to lose at all. At that point, loyalty is gone."
"Yes, but in that scenario the corporations wouldn't let her get away with it," Halas pointed out.
"So she anticipates. After liberating Mars, she finds out about the Brownshirts. She brings the corporates to trial, and then overturns the corporate representation on the Council," Elizabeth said softly.
"So?" Halas seemed bemused.
"It sort of removes the balance on the Council," Elizabeth continued, "and with the military behind her, effectively she takes control of the Federation, and if she wishes, the planet."
"Ha!" Kleppe nodded. "She achieves what all other conquerors have failed to do, and essentially because of a training exercise."
"But that's . . . terrible!" Halas exclaimed. He sat there almost gasping, eyes wide open, mouth slightly open, the stunned mullet.
"Good to see you agree," Elizabeth said caustically.
"She doesn't have to do that, though," Kleppe pointed out.
"Can you guarantee she won't?" Elizabeth asked.
"No, but any rational analysis would suggest she wouldn't," Kleppe replied.
"Why not?"
"Why do it?" Kleppe shrugged. "There's no point unless you're trying to achieve something, and Natasha couldn't succeed."
"Why not?" a puzzled Halas asked.
"Because the current economy is really balanced on a knife point," Kleppe pointed out. "Disturb it, and anything could happen, except, possibly, something good."
"Unstable equilibrium, I heard someone describe it," Halas shrugged.
"Exactly," Kleppe wagged a finger, and looked at each of them earnestly. "A change of government could provoke a major economic crisis, and that could lead to a return to the terrorism . . ."
"That's ancient history," Halas snorted.
"Perhaps," Elizabeth said, "but history can repeat itself. In any case there could be a lot of lesser problems that could still be extraordinarily chaotic."
"Such as?"
"Suppose she wasn't thinking, and supported one of those minority dissident groups, like the Call for the Return of Democracy," Kleppe offered in a tone clearly intended to goad Halas.
"Democracy!" Halas laughed, then suddenly burst into a fit of coughing. "You're killing me," he spluttered as he finally recovered, partly due to more than a sip of wine. "You mean there are still people around wanting a return to electing politicians with the power to generate random chaos on the basis of their makeup artist, their ad agency and their ability to mislead?"
"There are such groups," Kleppe replied firmly, "who've totally forgotten the lessons of politicians who'd lie about their policy, supposing they even had one, and if they did, could never concentrate long enough to think it through, let alone carry it out even sub-optimally. They've forgotten the politicians who'd mouth any number of platitudes . . .
"
"Yes, all right!" Elizabeth interrupted. "There's any number of things that can go wrong when someone takes sole power, and introducing democracy's probably the least of them. The point is, if Natasha decides to go that way, what do we do to stop her?"
"As a matter of fact," Imre Halas replied with a smile, "the lovely Natasha will still need people to look after the currency, the justice system, and the environmental protection work. I'm not sure why we should be overly worried."
"Thinking of the greater good again," Elizabeth shook her head slightly, then continued with a warning, "Even if she left us in these jobs, how do you want to live? Could either of you maintain your current property ownerships, you and your spouse's hobbies and travel, without the generous corporate donations and the energy coupons I know you receive? You like that caviar?"
There was a silence.
"Of course you liked it. Caviar is a tremendous delicacy, only obtainable from a nearly extinct fish. Do you realize how difficult this stuff is to get, and how few can get it? Do you realize we enjoy a lifestyle unknown to all but the top corporate people. I can't see Natasha Kotchetkova smiling benignly on us."
"Perhaps," remarked Kleppe, "we should consider including Natasha in our circle."
"You've got to be joking," Imre Halas replied with a shudder. "Her body's grotesque, and she exudes self-righteousness."
"She won't go along with us," Elizabeth Garret stated in a tone that showed she was absolutely certain of the truth of her statement. "I've already tried, and she ignored me. She has refused to deal with us before, and she will hardly start now, when the reason for it is so transparent."
"Then what do we do?" Kleppe asked, with concern in his voice for the first time.
"I don't think we have a choice," came the cold soft tone. "We have to assume that if Natasha Kotchetkova refuses to network with anybody now, she won't later. The difference is, when later comes, she will be all-powerful. We have to take action." She paused, then added as an afterthought, "After she achieves victory, of course."
"That could be considered treason," Kleppe frowned.
"To be investigated by Justice, of course," Halas smiled. "Perhaps it's Elizabeth we should be fearing?"
