by Ian Miller
There was the vehicle gliding in to a halt. The crowd was surging, struggling to get a view of the most unusual man on Earth; a man from a two thousand year old civilization, a man from so far in the future it was inconceivable, and a man here, now. There he was! So exciting! So that was what the most advanced aliens wore! Actually, when you looked at it, it was not very exciting at all. It certainly did not fit!
"That's alien dress?" Beth commented in surprise.
"I guess so," Jennifer replied.
"I don't think he can see very well."
"Maybe he needs glasses."
"And that's the cloth of the future?"
"So they say."
"Doesn't look much to me."
"You don't have to buy any."
"I could make it myself," Beth said caustically. "It looks just like an old sheet dunked in beetroot juice."
Beth was quite surprised by the expression on Jennifer's face. It was almost as if Jennifer had dyed the cloth and sold it to the Roman. What could be wrong with her? Not to worry! The ceremony was proceeding. The Roman was nearing the top of the stairs. Suddenly, from nowhere, violence, horror! Knives, murder! Beth looked back towards Jennifer. How calm she was! Almost as if she was bored. The speech followed, and once again, Beth noticed that Jennifer was quite disinterested. How strange? Beth did not follow the speech; something was wrong. Then the unmasking, and the surprise. Troy! How? Why? She turned to ask Jennifer, to see, once again, total lack of surprise. This was her brother!
Suddenly, just as Jennifer turned towards her, understanding dawned. Jennifer knew everything was going to happen that way. She knew Troy was in that ridiculous attire. She knew he was to be murdered.
"What do you think, Beth?"
"It's horrible!" Beth said, as the shock sank in. How terrible! How dangerous! What could she say? What could she do? If Jennifer suspected she knew, she would be dead! "Jennifer, how horrible! That's . . ."
"Troy," Jennifer replied, and her glance bored into Beth.
"Who could do such a thing?" Beth asked desperately, then added, as she realized she should have been surprised about something else, "How did Troy get there? Why wasn't that the Roman? Where's the Roman?"
"So many questions," Jennifer sighed. "What would you guess?"
"How would I know?" Beth gasped.
"I don't expect you to know," Jennifer said, almost coldly. "Just what would you guess?"
"I haven't a clue!"
"Why protest?" Jennifer smiled, "Why so bothered about not having a clue?"
"I'm not!" Beth blurted. "I mean –"
"Grow up, Beth. Grow up very fast."
"Wh what d d' you m mean?"
"You should be able to guess very clearly," Jennifer said, as her eyes bored into Beth. "The stakes are getting very high, and, Beth, the question is, where do you stand?"
"I'm, I'm behind you," Beth gulped.
"Yes, but doing what?"
"I d don't understand."
"You can be supporting me, or you can be waiting to knife me in the back. Which is it?"
"I meant I'm supporting you!"
"I wonder," Jennifer mused, then she spoke with urgency, "What d'you make of what you just saw?"
"The Roman wasn't there. Troy got killed. He must have been pretending he was the Roman."
"That's obvious!" Jennifer snorted. "What did you feel about it?"
"It was horrible!"
"Yes, but why?"
"Troy got killed. That's awful! He was your brother."
"He wasn't, actually," Jennifer shook her head, "but that's beside the point. You wouldn't shed any tears for Troy? You hated him."
"I wouldn't say that," Beth started.
"Then you're lying! Don't lie to me! You hated him!"
"If you say so," Beth said quietly.
"It's not because I say so. It's because you do, don't you?" Jennifer almost shouted.
"Yes," Beth said even more quietly. When would this stop?
"Beth," Jennifer said slowly and earnestly, with total self-control, "a great moment of history is approaching. At stake is the future control of Earth. Do you understand all this?"
"I think so," Beth replied.
"I think you do too. Now, you're going to have to justify what you said about supporting me. If you do, you can be a very rich woman. If you don't . . ."
"But I do!"
"Then you're going to do something for me."
"What?"
"Tonight, Garrett and Reiner are going to launch an attack on Uncle Harvey. Reiner's a rat who's jumping ship. Anyway, Garrett'll bring the Justice men and Defence, while Reiner'll bring MinCorp men. This could be close."
"Close!" Beth gasped. "Surely it's too much!"
"It's pretty even," Jennifer smiled. "You've learned nothing from what you just saw?"
"I don't understand."
"That was set up," Jennifer said, "and Defence couldn't stop it. In fact, Defence is split down the middle, and totally useless. The Defence force supplied to Garrett will be Streckov's men, and they'll be on our side."
"But they killed Troy?"
"They didn't know," Jennifer smiled. "That was a nice extra touch, don't you think?"
Beth shuddered, but said nothing.
"You're wondering why? It's not particularly difficult. Troy had failed Harvey. Not once, but several times, so Troy was eminently disposable." Jennifer paused, to see the effect this was having. Beth shuddered slightly, but tried to remain as impassive as possible. Her heart was thumping, and she felt Jennifer must hear it from there, but Jennifer gave no sign as she continued coldly, "At the moment, GenCorp's got a lot of enemies. They think we sold out the planet."
"That is true, though," Beth said hesitantly, as she could see that Jennifer was almost demanding a response.
"That's simply not true," Jennifer said firmly, "and you'd better get that firmly in place. But of course, others think we did, and a lot of others are just waiting for a chance to dismember us. That's why Reiner's jumped ship."
"Then how does killing Troy help? Surely he wasn't as dangerous as, say Defence?"
"Oh, Troy was immaterial," Jennifer laughed. "Nobody's going to shed a tear on his behalf, and for all I care, you can jump for joy, spit on his grave, do what you like."
"Then why?" Beth asked. She must neither show hatred for Troy nor shed false tears. She had to remain as emotionless as possible, because Jennifer was not beyond lying to her.
"A Munro's dead! That gives us an excuse for revenge, and we're going to take it. We start on that fool of a pilot. He thought he was helping me, but he has given Streckov the excuse he needs to immobilize Kotchetkova's spacers, and anybody else in Defence who might help Justice."
"But he was your . . ." Beth stopped, not knowing what to say.
"He thought he was going to get very rich," Jennifer corrected. "Yes, Beth, I am a little sorry for him, but he's necessary to Harvey's plan, and he annoyed Harvey. Beth, whatever you do, don't annoy Harvey!"
"Of course not," Beth said earnestly. Not while she was in Munro territory, anyway.
"So you see where that leaves us? Without Kotchetkova, Defence will be in disarray. If this were limited to New York, Justice would line up behind us, but now we have to assume Garrett will hand pick her troops, which means we have to assume whatever takes the field will be against us. Worse, Reiner's presence will firm up support for Garrett, for like it or not, Reiner has almost as much power as a Munro."
"I see," Beth said, then added, "No! Sorry, I don't see."
"And what don't you see?"
"What you want from me," Beth said simply. "You've got this so well worked out!"
"I wish it were all that simple," Jennifer said simply. "I'm not sure Streckov can guarantee Defence, especially with Reiner there pushing with one of the major corporations. You see, while Harvey has some M'starn defensive shielding which means he can't lose, it's becoming increasingly difficult to see how he can win. So to solve all these problems,
I have two jobs for you. Firstly, you're going to have to kill Garrett. That'll throw Justice into confusion."
"Why me?"
"Because Kotchetkova's given you respectability. You'll be able to get to Garrett. I'll tell you when and what to do and I'll give you what you need."
"And what's the second job?" Beth said. She was appalled; she had to buy some time to think. Most of all, she had to persuade Jennifer that she would do it, because if she did not, she had few illusions as to her prospects.
"It should be more pleasurable for you," Jennifer smiled coldly. "You will kill Harvey."
"But why?" Beth exclaimed.
"Beth!" Jennifer said sternly, "I'm disappointed. If you can't work that out, perhaps you shouldn't ask. This is about control. Everyone can see that Harvey's got to go. He sold out his planet, and failed," she said, with no flicker to show she realized the contradiction with her earlier assertion, "so the question isn't will he survive, but who'll replace him? I intend that to be me."
"But how?" Beth gasped.
"Simple! Firstly, we confuse the attackers by killing Garrett. Once GenCorp wins, you'll be taken to Harvey, who'll want to thank you for your key part. Then you'll kill him, and that leaves me in control."
And me dead, Beth thought. 'A Munro's dead! That gives us an excuse for revenge.' The words rang through her head. But what to do? Jennifer's eyes were boring into her. Of course! Jennifer expected a reaction. The obvious one was, how much? But it was too late to ask. Jennifer had read Beth's face and she was moving towards her desk to get a weapon. Frantically, Beth leaped forward. Without thinking, she grabbed a large wooden statue. Jennifer looked up in surprise, and quickly wrestled with the drawer. Fortunately, it was always locked, to keep the likes of herself out, Beth thought wryly, as she leaped onto the desk. As she brought the statue down, Jennifer edged backwards to protect herself.
The statue struck Jennifer a glancing blow across the forehead, but she slipped backwards, and struck the back of her head against a cabinet. Jennifer slumped to the floor, groaning incoherently.
Beth ran to the door, ran across the passageway, and struck the elevator button. To her surprise, the door opened, and she dived in. She hit the key for the ground floor, and prayed. She was lucky, as there was only one additional stop, and when the elevator door opened on the ground floor, the other passenger was quite surprised to see Beth push him to one side and speed out of the building. Beth ran and ran, and finally stopped when she realized that she had no idea where she was going, or where she was. She paused, and noticed to her right a vending machine selling fruit drinks. She placed her card in the slot and dialled for a red berry drink.
Nothing happened. She tried to eject her card, but the machine refused to surrender that too. She was about to give up and leave when the machine spluttered, and a plastic cup appeared, but there was still no drink. She hit the machine one last time, and still nothing happened. Again, she was about to leave, when the machine made a clanking noise, and a message appeared on the screen. Beth had never seen a message on these screens before, but the message was gone before she could determine what it was. Then another message appeared. If you wish the message to be repeated press Repeat Order. Beth was dumbfounded, so she pressed the required key. Again the message flashed, and she pressed the slow delivery button. This time the message was readable. It explained how the drink was especially synthesized according to the highest standards of FoodBund to emulate a drink from berries. It then went on to explain that a berry was a small seedy fruit that once upon a time grew upon vines. This was followed by a list of berries, how they were pressed, then a list of chemists who had isolated the taste components of the various berries, followed by the procedures by which FoodBund synthesized the modern substitute.
In frustration, Beth hit the serve key once again. At last, drink appeared, and the card reappeared. Beth raised the cup to her lips, turned, and saw to her horror two police running towards her from the right. To the left, the crowds from the ceremony were beginning to make their way towards the subway station. She ran towards them, but she was only half way there before the first policeman grasped her shoulder.
"You're under arrest!" the officer shouted gruffly. "You've got no rights!" and with that, Beth felt a hand grab her hair and pull strongly. She lurched forward, and fell face down on the pavement. She let out a scream of pain as the pavement scoured the skin from her right elbow.
"Shuddup!" the man yelled, and struck down at her with his nightstick. Beth felt the pain sear through her shoulder, before it began to go numb. She looked up for help, but the crowd had evaporated.
"Get up! Get up now or –"
Beth huddled up, waiting for the next blow, but nothing happened. She looked up, and there, standing between her and the officer was Colonel Aqmet Abdullin.
"It's fun hitting defenceless people, isn't it," the Kazakh laughed. "Oh, by the way, if either of you two are thinking of drawing weapons, there's five machine pistols trained on you. You'll have to judge whether the men can use them."
One of the Kazakh soldiers laughed as he waved his pistol around the second officer. "S sir, I'mm n nerv vous," he said, as the pistol waved all over the place. Suddenly it fired a single shot, and the officer's hat flew away.
"I'm not," laughed another Kazakh, as he thrust the barrel into the second officer's groin. "Gotta warn you, though, I've taken first pressure, so one tiny little jolt, and you won't be much of a gift to women!"
The second officer slumped to the ground in a faint. As the Kazakh pulled the barrel of his pistol across his face, he gave a grimace of disgust. "Oh yek!" he groaned. "The bastard shit himself!"
"Then try and keep the other conscious," the colonel nodded, and pushed the first officer away. He turned to help Beth to her feet.
"Thank you," she said, as tears came down the side of her face. "How did you get here?"
"Special guard, made up of anyone who's had any part to play in the last few months," the Kazakh replied. "Also, the Commissioner wanted some men she could trust."
"It was kind of you to help," Beth gasped, "but you mustn't stay! Get away from me. They'll kill me, and they'll kill you if they find out you've helped. Run, quickly!"
"And who's going to kill us?" came the soothing response.
"The corporations!" Beth cried out.
"They're no match for us," the colonel laughed.
"There's no 'us'", Beth cried. "They've got the New York police, and they've even got Streckov in their pocket! Now the Commissioner's dead . . ."
"Is that so," the colonel mused. "Well, Beth, we're not going to leave you alone. Also, there's nothing you've said that's any cause for panic, but all the same we'd better get out of here. Can you walk?"
"I can run," Beth urged.
"No need for that," the colonel said as he gave her shoulder a comforting pat. "Let's not draw too much attention to ourselves. Sergeant! Take those two men and question them! I want to know everything about who ordered them to go after Beth, how many are backing the Corporates, and anything they know about Defence traitors."
"I don't know anything!" the officer squealed.
"In that case," the Kazakh shrugged, "you'll be an innocent victim of a really horrendous atrocity. Doesn't that make you feel good?"
"You can't do that!"
"No?" A thirty-centimeter blade flashed between the two of them, its point sparkling as it hovered two centimeters below the policeman's nostril. It flashed again, grazing the point of the nose, leaving a smear of red. "What would you like to lose first?" the Kazakh grinned.
"No! No! Look! I can get you money! Anything you want!"
"Now we're making progress," the Kazakh's grin became wider. "I want names! Details! You can start with where you were going to get the money you just offered. Once you've got the rhythm, I'm sure you'll think of something more. Otherwise what's left of you'll be sent to Streckov, with an account of your promise. Take him away!"
"What'll we do now?" Beth a
lmost whimpered, as the two blue uniformed men were unceremoniously dragged off.
"Don't be frightened, Beth." The voice was calm and assured, and when she felt the hand grasp her lightly on the shoulder, a weight seemed to be lifted from her.
"But they're everywhere! You can't fight them!"
"You can always fight. Winning might be more difficult, but remember, no matter how bleak our prospects, we must fight. The worst that can happen is that they beat us, and if we don't fight, they've done that already. Now, Beth, you have to be brave, and when we get somewhere private, you'll have to tell us everything you know."
"I don't think I know anything worth telling," Beth said doubtfully, "but I'll try."
"Good! Now, you've been inside Munro's skyscraper?"
"Well, yes, but –"
"Then there's a start. You've got to try to remember everything you can. Nothing is too trivial! The more we know about what to expect.."
"Expect? You're not suggesting we –"
"I am! But not just us! I know Justice's planning a raid this evening, and Defence'll –"
"Then it's doomed," Beth interrupted glumly. "Streckov's in Munro's pocket. He'll know every detail and –"
"Hey!" Two firm hands grasped Beth's shoulders. "Streckov's not Defence! We can guess who'll follow him, and who won't. Now we're warned, we can take care of him!"
"But the men'll never fight against the corporations," Beth protested.
"Enough will," came an assured smile. "You see, Beth, the corporations offer money and position, and Defence offers neither."
"I can't see why you think that should make me happy," came the doubtful reply.
"Because those who're seeking money and position aren't in Defence," came the reply. "Those loyal to the corporate culture, by and large, are in the corporations. Oh, sure, there're short-term trainees, like the space pilots, and no doubt some of the so-called key officers have been bought off. But they're not important."
"How do you mean, not important?"
"In a crisis men follow the real leaders, and it's hard to inspire men to follow someone clearly consumed by self-interest. Don't worry. Now we know what to expect, we'll see their treachery gets them where they deserve. Now, we're nearly there. Relax! Soon we'll get you a nice warm drink, and you can tell us everything. And don't worry about importance. You may already have told us enough to change the course of tonight!"
