by Trevor Wyatt
“Really? Well, I...I don’t know what to say,” Cassius said. “Thank you!”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Thomas said. “We still have to get you voted in.”
“And that’s easier said than done?” Cassius asked.
“Somewhat. I can pull quite a few strings, get a lot of people on your side, but you have a background in politics. You know how these things work,” he said. “Don’t worry about it, just let me do the talking.”
“If you say so,” Cassius said. “If it gets us closer to reaching our goal, then I’m willing to do whatever’s necessary.”
“That’s the spirit, Cassius,” Thomas said.
The pair made their way down to the main hall of the court house. Several people were gathered in the room, discussing the day’s business. It seemed as if their meeting was almost ready to conclude, which was possibly the reason Thomas wanted to come at this time.
Anyone they could talk to who could help move them forward, they would be sure to catch.
The two of them found a group of Thomas’ colleagues chattering among themselves in the corner once the meeting was adjourned. It took a moment, but the group finally noticed them and ceased their conversation.
“Thomas! Friend, you never call me anymore!” one of the men said in a booming voice. He was portly, seemed to be just as old as Thomas himself, if not a bit older.
“Sorry, Peter,” Thomas said. “I’m just getting old. The mind is the first thing to go, you know.”
“Bah, nonsense! I’m still as sharp as I was when I was a young man!” Peter said jovially.
“So you’re saying you were a rather dull child?” the woman beside him said, trying to contain her laughter.
“Exactly! Wait a minute…” he said, his eyes opened wide for a moment before grumbling at her.
Thomas snickered for a moment before shaking his head.
“Anyway, I’m not just here for pleasant conversation,” he said. “I’m here to ask a favor. My friend here is looking for a new position. You know, he’s the governor of Elban. Anyway, I’m looking to retire soon and I want to nominate him for my position. Would you be willing to get behind him?”
Peter stroked his white beard for a moment, giving Cassius a glance through his round spectacles.
“Sure, why not?” he said with the same bravado as all his other sentences. “I trust your judgment. If you think he’s cut out for the job, then I’ll support him!”
His other two companions nodded in agreement.
The slender woman who appeared to be a few years younger than the rest spoke up.
“Of course, you have my vote,” she said.
“Thank you, Victoria,” Thomas said. “Well, it was wonderful catching up with you.”
“Likewise, friend! Don’t be a stranger!” Peter said, gripping Thomas’s hand in a tight shake. Thomas winced lightly, but it didn’t appear to hurt too badly.
The two parted ways with the group, going around to each of the different members of Thomas’ party and having similar conversations of recent events. It seemed as if they were getting traction with all of this.
The sun was beginning to set when Thomas and Cassius found themselves sitting on a bench outside the courthouse, tallying the list of names they’d taken on Thomas’s tablet. The list of names was impressive, especially to be in support of someone who had never held office on Centralia before.
“Seems like we’re all set,” Cassius said. “It looks like we have most of the party on our side.”
Thomas bit the end of his stylus while counting and recounting the names.
“You would think, but we’re just one vote shy of the support we need to get you in,” Thomas said. “Namely, this one.”
Thomas tapped on the name that was in red, pulling up a picture of a man Cassius remembered seeing earlier. He hadn’t spoken to him personally, namely letting Thomas do the talking, but he definitely remembered the face.
“And he doesn’t want me in?” Cassius asked.
“Well, it’s a bit more complicated than just that. He’s got connections to Jebediah,” Thomas said. “Cracking him won’t be easy. But if we want to get you in, we have to get his vote. His name is Augustus Langley.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Cassius said, standing to his feet and straightening out his clothes.
“Well, by all means go for it,” Thomas said. “I already tried, but hey…if he’ll listen to you, then that’s great. He should still be here somewhere. He doesn’t usually go home until late.”
Cassius nodded. He parted ways with Thomas for the time being and entered the building.
After spending the entire day at the courthouse, he basically had the layout memorized already. He made his way through the halls, keeping an eye out for Augustus.
He eventually stumbled on the office where Augustus was sitting, going over paperwork. His eyes lifted when he heard Cassius enter the room.
“How can I help you?”
“Good day, my name is Cassius Ojun,” he said. “I’m looking to get my foot in the door after Thomas Alver retires. I was just dropping by to ask if you’d be willing to lend me a vote. I only need one more.”
“Ah yes, I’ve heard about you. Good things, unflattering things, but it’s not my place to judge either way. You get a full blank slate with me, as far as all that is concerned,” Augustus said with a smile curled on his lips. “So, you need my vote?”
Cassius nodded, the smile giving him a bit of hope that Augustus would concede and throw his hat in for the vote.
“Believe me son, I’d love to help you out,” he said. “But I’m afraid my vote has already been promised to someone else. You understand, I can’t go back on my word for a friend. I’m sure you’d do the same in my position.”
This wasn’t the news Cassius had wanted to hear, but he wasn’t entirely surprised either. “Of course,” Cassius said. “Thank you, though.”
He didn’t bother waiting for a response from the other before turning and walking out of the room. Corruption seemed to run deep, even in this sanctuary of supposed democracy. It was the same, no matter where he went.
The Lange Corporation’s claws were sunk into every aspect of society, from the highest offices to the lowest slums.
Still, Cassius wasn’t about to stop now. He had plans, and he wasn’t going to let anyone stand in his way.
The Lange Corporation would pay for what they’d done to not only him, but also to the other innumerable people they’d hurt over the years.
The door closed behind him as Cassius formulated his plan to try and get Augustus’ vote.
Chapter 17
Cassius
Cassius sat in the tastefully decorated office. He skimmed through a copy of the latest EVENTS magazine that had been broadcasted to his tablet, trying not to let his nervousness show.
The secretary at her desk took his name and spoke a few muted words into her headset; half an hour had passed since he walked in.
Cassius was beginning to think this was a stupid idea. After all, he no longer had any connections here.
He leafed through EVENTS even though none of the pictures or text registered.
Maybe he should just get up and leave. He had other options. Thomas could be a help.
The thing was, Thomas operated on a level that had little to do with the real power on this planet.
Cassius hadn’t grown up here for nothing. And that was what had brought him to this office, in this building.
An old acquaintance had given him the address, saying, “You didn’t get this from me, Cash. You hear?”
And now here he was, back where he’d started, almost. He looked up from EVENTS to see the secretary regarding him with a baleful eye.
“He’ll see you now,” she said with a barely concealed sneer.
He muttered his thanks and passed through the door she indicated.
Beyond it lay another even more opulent suite. Wonder of wonders, there was even a water wall, with
plants arrayed around the small pond at its base, in which koi swam.
Expensive chairs were positioned on the thick-pile carpet. The far end of the room was one large window overlooking the city.
“It’s a long way from Mansionland,” said a familiar voice behind him. Cassius turned quickly.
“Damn, do you have kehonnies coming here,” Francis said, advancing toward his brother, his face solemn. “How long has it been, ten years?”
“Nine,” Cassius said, walking toward him. The brothers met in the middle of the room and shook hands.
Close up, Cassius saw the years on Francis’s face—and knew that they showed even more plainly on his own.
They stared warily at each other. Francis had put on a fair bit of weight, though his impeccably designed suit hid the extra bulk. His hair was thinner, too, and he had a small gang tattoo on the side of his neck showing above his collar.
Cassius wondered how he appeared to Francis. Thinner, no doubt, but there were wiry muscles on his frame now.
“You look like crap,” Francis said. “You’re supposed to be the younger one. Damn, you look just like Dad!”
“I...”
“You didn’t come for Mom’s funeral,” Francis said. “Everyone was pretty mad about that.”
“Are we going to have this conversation again? Look, I couldn’t get away. It was my first year as governor.”
Dementia had come on Shandie with lightning bolt suddenness. Wetlung seemed to be a precursor in some cases, and it was Shandie’s bad luck that she had been one with such a case.
Cured of the disease, but not able to duck its side-effects—she died within four months.
Cassius had spoken to her via slipstream, but couldn’t get away from his responsibilities to his constituents, or his family.
“You broke her heart, man,” Francis said as he shook his head.
The old tension between them webbed the room. Cassius restrained an impulse to spit out a curse and walk away.
He couldn’t do that. He needed Francis, he needed his help.
He looked down at his scuffed shoes. “Fran, look, I...I didn’t come here for this. I’m sorry.”
“You should be. So what are you here for, Cash? I mean, the fuck you want from me? Why didn’t you just stay on fuckin’ Elbow or wherever the fuck it is.”
“Elban,” Cassius felt his temper rising.
“Whatever you call it. Jeez, Cash—”
“You don’t have the least idea why I’m back?” Cassius asked, interrupting his brother.
“Hey, I keep my head down and tend to business. That’s all.”
Cassius nodded. Well, that was why he was here—because of his brother’s ties to the Rolands. He slowly unclenched his fists.
Then, somehow, they found themselves hugging. Francis smelled of expensive cologne, not too liberally applied, and depilatory cream.
Cassius was all too aware that he probably reeked of sweat from the heat outside.
“Weasel-dick,” Cassius muttered into Francis’ shoulder.
“Shit-heel,” Francis said huskily.
He abruptly thrusted Cassius away.
“Come on, take a seat,” he said, looking a little embarrassed at the sudden rush of emotion between them. “You want a drink? Something to eat?”
At Cassius’s refusal, Francis said, “I was just bustin’ ya about Ma. She was so far gone after a couple of months she didn’t know who anyone was anymore.” He sighed. “Would have been nice if she could’ve seen Lyla and the grandkids one time, though. Hey, how are they?”
Cassius stared at him. “You still don’t ever watch the news, do you?”
Francis scoffed. “I got no time for all that fakery and propaganda, brother of mine. The family keeps me too busy, like I say.”
“Maybe I’ll have that drink,” Cassius said, reaching out for the glass Francis was holding.
Over some excellent single-malt scotch, he outlined his story: Crop Fever, Lyla’s death, Franky’s death, his endless frustration with the governing body here on Centralia—everything.
All the while, he was uncomfortably aware that the last time they had spoken, he was turning his back on the Rolands, and leaving Francis to deal with all their problems, including their mother.
Francis listened, staring down into his glass, swirling its contents slowly and sipping every once in a while. Cassius barely noticed when his own glass was empty until Francis reached out to pour more scotch into it.
“Oh, man,” Francis said at last, after Cassius had run out of story and they had sat silent for a few minutes. “Lyla and Franky gone? Sienna?” His face had gone pale, but whether with fury or shock, Cassius couldn’t tell.
“Oh, man,” Francis muttered.
He looked at Cassius through stricken eyes.
“Okay, this is horrible, and I’m so, so sorry for what happened.” He shook his head. “But there’s something I still don’t get.”
“What don’t you get?” Cassius asked.
“You. You were always so good at talking your way out of tight places.” Francis smiled wanly. “I remember that robot job we pulled...you remember that? The first one?”
“Oh, yeah, with the...” Cassius gestured. “The C-whatever.”
“C57-D. That was it. You got the guard to let us go.”
He shook his head again. “Amazing. I’m good at what I do, but you always had the brains. So why couldn’t you, as the governor of the whole shebang, get your people to go along with you?”
“They were sick, they were scared,” Cassius said.
“It was like you and me with the wetlung and Dad. We were kids, what could we do? I’m not a kid anymore, but still—I had nowhere to go. No one was listening. And heck, no one is still listening. I mean...you know what I mean.”
He grinded his teeth. “I got this one guy, Alver. He has a position in the Labor Oversight Committee, and he listens.” He shook his head. “But I don’t know how much good he can do, he’s just one man, and he’s retiring.”
“Alver, yeah—Tom Alver. I’ve heard of him. A good guy, I hear.” Francis replied.
“He is, but that and two credits will get me a cup of coffee. He says there’s too much money floating around the upper levels. No one wants to take on Lange Corp.”
“But he’s handing his seat to you, you say. So that’s good, so you can get at Lange from the inside.”
“The vote’s tied up, like I said.”
Okay, he said to himself, here we go.
He explained that his nomination to the Oversight Committee was one vote short.
“The holdout is connected to Jebediah Lange.”
Francis’s eyes went wide. He put his glass down carefully and stood up to pace the room. The water wall trickled, and the koi splashed while he walked back and forth.
“Well, fuck me,” he said at last. “You don’t do half-measures, do ya?”
“Believe me, Fran, I wouldn’t be here if I had any alternative. It’s not you, or us, or anything—it’s my whole damn planet, man. It’s Lyla and the kids, everyone’s kids, everyone’s family. Lange did this, and I’m going to see them pay,” Cassius exclaimed.
Francis blew out his breath. “Lyla was my sister-in-law, and your son was my blood. Sienna is my blood.” He scowled at the floor. “Okay, listen. I have a lot of pull on my level, but the bosses above me...well, they’ll listen to me, but more than that I can’t guarantee, you hear what I’m sayin’?”
Cassius sagged in his chair with sheer relief.
“That’s all I ask, just for you to talk to them, lay it out for them. I need that vote changed. Hell, I’ll come in and talk to them if you need me to.”
“Shouldn’t be necessary. This is a family thing, and they understand that, all right. Do they ever!” Francis cleared his throat. “But I’ll need a little quid pro quo here, if you know what I mean.”
“Well, not really, but you name it and I’ll do whatever I can.” Cassius said, heaving a deep sigh
.
“Good,” Francis grabbed his glass and drained it. “Listen, I got things to do. You go home, take care of those girls, and you’ll be hearing from me. Soon. Real soon.”
Chapter 18
Cassius
Sometimes Cassius wondered what he signed up for.
After Francis worked his magic, the final vote came through and Cassius quickly found himself in the Labor Oversight Committee.
He read through another budget proposal and tapped veto with a sigh. This one proposed firing half the workers in the shipyard and cutting the salaries of the rest. How the hell was that supposed to help costs?
It would only delay cargo coming in from the other planets and piss off a whole lot of people. He would think his colleagues were idiots, but no. They were greedy little bastards.
Greed at the expense of thousands of hard workers was pure evil. That was the fifth proposal that day, and every day was the same.
“I’m going out for lunch,” he barked through the comm. He had to get out of there.
The Backwater Bistro was a favorite out-of-the-way dive. It sat in a slow section smack in between the slums and the working poor. The block was filled with languishing artisan businesses.
Somehow they stayed afloat, though Cassius had the notion his brother was behind that.
The bartender, a girl barely out of her teens, smiled and nodded as he walked in. It was surprisingly busy, with five tables full and three others at the bar. His usual table at the back corner was empty, at least.
He sank into the booth and pushed the order button. Pasta and wine was his usual order, and they probably had it ready.
The server brought it with a smile, and Cassius deposited a generous tip along with his payment.
Busy stuffing his face, Cassius didn’t notice the two burly men approaching until they overshadowed his plate. He stopped mid-chew and stared up. They wore dirty shipyard uniforms.
