Yesterday's Legacy

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Moving away from him in the grime were several sets of footprints and scuffs. The others had brought him here once Averill had knocked him out. They couldn’t have carried him with them and they didn’t have time to take him anywhere far away, such as the Capitol.

  They had cared enough not to leave him lying in the middle of the tunnel where anyone would find him, though.

  With him out, they would be forced to put Averill in front of the march. He’d got what he wanted. Only, Jonah didn’t think it would end the way he wanted.

  Averill would declare privileges and rights instead of speaking the language that David Sekar would understand and that would not go down well. Jonah had been listening to captains of the ship his entire life. He understood their priorities. A jumped-up rebel with entitlement issues in the middle of a crisis would be swiftly dealt with.

  He forced himself to his feet, stiff and slow. He felt empty. The lightness might help. He was going to have to move very fast.

  He squeezed through the piping and into a service corridor that was free of grime and looked around, orienting himself. It would be easy to get lost in here if he didn’t figure out exactly where he was first.

  Then he moved down the corridor, walking fast. A few minutes later, he broke into a jog.

  Walking wasn’t fast enough.

  * * * * *

  By the time he reached the Aventine, Jonah could hear the murmur of people ahead of him, coming from behind the Arena. That was where the main hall to the Bridge began. When he reached it, all he could see was a mass of bodies pushing into the wide corridor that accessed the hall. He strained to see over their heads. The mass spread along the length of the corridor, preventing him from seeing to the end.

  He was going to have to ram his way through. With his heart starting to hurt from the effort of running all the way here and the sensation that time was running out, Jonah turned his shoulder up against the backs in front of him and pushed.

  * * * * *

  Marlow studied the mass of people gathering in the hall beyond the gate. She didn’t think it was possible for the entire ship’s population to fit in the hall, even as big as it was. They were packed in, leaving only a small area clear in front of the gate itself and several feet between them and the barricades that had been erected from the edges of the gate across the width of the hall on either side. More were squeezed into the corridor beyond. She couldn’t see the end of the tail. There were heads all the way back as far as she could see.

  The Forum would be spreading images of the hall all over the ship, too.

  The crowd was unusually silent. Marlow could nearly feel their anger. It showed in their tight expressions and the direct stares.

  “There he is!” someone called from the middle of the hall.

  She saw pointing and looked to her left, toward the main gate. David Sekar was emerging from the Bridge, surrounded by his staff and the Red Guard, who were wearing their proper uniforms, now.

  Where was Nicolo Hayim? There was a small group of people standing just in front of the pack that included the older woman who Marlow suspected was Veda Novaks. There were two very large men who resembled tank players and standing in the middle of all of them was Tomas Averill, who looked triumphant. Nicolo Hayim was not there, declaring his true loyalties. Was he a trump card for later?

  Not far from the front, Marlow spotted more familiar faces. The woman Agatha, from Jonah’s apartment and her partner, Siegel, who Erron knew. The other pair were not there. The wheelchair would have made it difficult for them.

  Marlow’s heart squeezed. If violence erupted, she would try to shield both of Jonah’s friends. It was dangerous for them to be here.

  With the Captain’s appearance, the crowd started to murmur. It was not a pretty sound. Fury edged it.

  Marlow shivered.

  Cantrell glanced at her. He was crouched down behind the barricade, his rifle resting on the edge per the orders that had been shouted at them by one of the Red Guard as they had passed through the Bridge corridor. However, the rifle was not pointing at anything and his finger was nowhere near the trigger despite training doctrine saying should be resting alongside the guard.

  “This will be bad,” Marlow murmured.

  There was more movement behind them. A handful of civilians moved around the barrier, taking up positions as if they were picking seats at a tankball game. They were here to observe the fun, apparently. Marlow recognized the very short man among them. Vannie Seaver, head of one of the science institutes. These were institute chiefs, then.

  Their position on this side of the barricade indicated where their loyalties laid.

  Tomas Averill took three paces out into the middle of the open area and held up his hands. “I would speak to you, David Sekar.”

  No title. That would not go over well with the traditionalists. Whatever Sekar had done, he was still the appointed Captain of the ship and deserved the acknowledgement.

  The bonded plasteel gate opened enough to allow people to pass through.

  Three of the Red Guard emerged, their rifles up in front of them, pointing at Averill. Just the sight of guns aimed at a human made Marlow feel a little sick. How had they come to this?

  Averill seemed to shrink backward, even though his feet didn’t move. He raised his hands. “I am not hiding behind my people!” he shouted.

  Marlow would have admired his apparent courage, except for the sense of ownership he displayed about the people behind him. She saw the crowd shift and sway and heads turn to murmur to each other. No, they did not like it either.

  David Sekar moved through the gate. “You mistake prudence for cowardice,” he said and walked right up to Averill, stopping barely a meter away from him. He was taller than Averill and his stride was confident. He smiled at Averill. “Your people bear arms. That is a crime upon the Endurance.”

  Averill looked startled. It was true that among the crowd were many pipe lengths, rough cudgels and other tools, only to call them arms was stretching the point. Marlow was certain there was not anyone out there who could use a blunt instrument the way she could.

  Then Averill regrouped. “You are to step down from the office of Captain immediately,” he said. “You have displayed a lack of morals and human decency that will not be tolerated. By anyone.”

  Sekar nodded at the three guards who had ranged around him. Two of them slung their rifles, then grabbed Averill by the arms and forced him to his knees.

  The people behind him backed up a step, startled and uneasy.

  Averill spluttered…until the third guard walked around behind him and rested the muzzle of his gun against the back of his head. Averill’s eyes grew very wide.

  “You have displayed a lack of morals and human decency,” David Sekar told Averill. “You incited a riot that threatens the longevity of this ship. You must pay the ultimate sacrifice in order to save it.”

  “No, wait!” Averill cried.

  Sekar nodded again.

  Marlow turned her head away as the gun fired. There were screams and moans and the sound of building panic in the crowd.

  Cantrell had his eyes closed, his head down. He opened them and looked at her. “We’re with you. Do something, Marlow. This must stop.”

  She swallowed and looked back out into the hall. Most of the Red Guard had filed out beyond the barrier and had taken up a stance in front of it, their rifles raised.

  It meant she couldn’t see Tomas Averill’s body. Instead she could see the rapidly expanding pool of blood on the floor she could glimpse between their legs.

  The sound of sobbing was coming from several places in the hall, not all of them on the other side of the barrier, either.

  She drew in a shaky breath. What could she do? She was nobody. She wasn’t even wearing a uniform.

  “Make way! Make room! Let me through!” The angry tones were unmistakable.

  Marlow gasped and shifted to one side so she could see through the backs of the Red Guard in front of
her, clutching the edge of the barrier.

  Jonah was shoving his way through the crowd, using the width of his shoulders, his weight and height and his fury to ram his way to the front.

  Don’t lose your temper, she begged him.

  Jonah spilled out through the front edge of the crowd, almost staggering when the resistance was removed. He straightened up on his feet and moved toward David Sekar.

  “The other one,” Sekar said and jerked his head at the Red Guards.

  Jonah confronted him. “You’re a fool,” he said, his voice low and hard. “By killing him you’ve lost any hope of finding a way out of this.”

  Marlow could hear Jonah perfectly because both of them had moved around the spreading blood, which brought them to her side of the barrier. They were only a body length in front of the Red Guard.

  Sekar’s face hardened. “You dare—”

  “The ship itself is in danger,” Jonah interrupted him. “You know this. It’s what pushed you into doing it. If you let me talk to them, if you let me explain it, we can still save the ship.”

  Sekar hesitated. His eyes narrowed. “So you can take my chair?” he asked in a soft growl. He nodded at the Red Guard once more.

  Two of them grabbed Jonah’s arms.

  Marlow didn’t wait any longer. She jumped the barrier and shoved her way out between the guards. “No! Stop!”

  Jonah was already on his knees, the guard behind him. He looked at her. There was a look in his eyes that made her want to cry. There was love there…and regret.

  “No!” she screamed and shoved at the one guard protecting the captain’s flank.

  Sekar glanced at her. “Remove her,” he said sharply.

  Marlow gripped her bo sticks and spun to deal with the man behind her. Time seemed to stand still. The guards around her slowed their actions. She had eons to deal with all of them. Knees. Elbows. Under the ear. Shoulder strikes. She had been training for this her entire life and she barely had to think about it. She couldn’t process it, anyway. The only thing in her mind was wild panic and the need to save Jonah.

  She reached the guard standing behind him, the only guard she had to approach from the front.

  He raised the rifle, bringing it to aim at her face.

  Marlow came to a skidding halt. Time reasserted itself.

  The crowd was screaming. So were people behind the barricade.

  She drew in a ragged breath. Deliberately, she put her hand on Jonah’s shoulder, knowing that everyone would see her do it. She turned her head to look at Sekar. “Touch Jonah and you’re dead,” she said flatly.

  “I believe the rifle is pointing at you,” he said dryly.

  “Now!” That was Cantrell’s bellow.

  More guards, dozens of them, wearing the civil uniforms of her division, flung themselves over the barriers and spread out among the Red Guard. They lifted their rifles…and aimed at Sekar.

  Marlow looked at the guard who was aiming at her. She felt a calm peacefulness. The next moments would change her life or end it. She was ready either way.

  Jonah’s shoulder was warm under her hand. His fingers gripped hers.

  “It’s your decision,” she told the guard.

  The guard was sweating. He looked to his left, toward the crowd.

  So did Marlow. She saw Nicolo Hayim move out to stand with the others. He nodded at the guard.

  Immediately, every Red Guard in the hall swiveled, adjusting their aim. They were all pointing at David Sekar.

  Sekar had lost all the color in his face. He swallowed. “I see,” he said.

  Marlow helped Jonah to his feet, as a man with silvery hair and dark brows and tanned skin pushed forward to stand beside her and Jonah. So did Veda Novaks.

  Sekar stared at the silver-haired man. “You, too, Henderson?”

  “It’s the whole ship, David. Can’t you see that?” Henderson said quietly. “Give up. Your time on the Bridge is over.”

  He didn’t have to speak very loudly. The silence in the hall was almost perfect. Everyone was straining to hear what happened now.

  “I should give the chair to this…radical?” Sekar asked, looking at Jonah with withering contempt.

  “No,” Jonah said instantly. Quickly. “I just want to save the ship. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  Sekar tilted his head. “From your slice apartment in the Fourth Wall? With essays and criticism? The Bridge is the only place where you can make any sort of difference.”

  Marlow had the odd sensation that Sekar was trying to convince Jonah he should take the chair.

  Jonah was shaking his head, yet there was doubt in his eyes. She was perhaps the only one that could see it.

  “Listen to him,” she told him, very quietly.

  Sekar glanced at her, then back at Jonah. He didn’t seem to notice that every rifle in the hall was still pointing at him. He was focused on Jonah. “If you truly have the ship’s longevity in mind, Solomon, then you will take the chair.”

  Jonah breathed in. A very deep breath.

  “Emma would want it,” Sekar said, very softly, so that even Marlow could barely hear it.

  Jonah flinched. She felt the little shock run through him, transmitted through her hold on his arm. “I’ll take the chair, only if everyone else agrees to it,” he said firmly. “No more rights. No more appointments.”

  Marlow looked at the crowd, who were watching Jonah with fierce concentration. From on the other side of the hall, she saw Siegel raise his hand.

  Instantly, Agatha lifted hers into the air alongside him.

  A dozen more lifted. Marlow held her breath as the raising of hands spread like a ripple on water, out across the hall. Silently, everyone spoke their mind, until finally, there was nothing but raised hands to be seen.

  Jonah let out a breath that shuddered.

  David Sekar nodded. “The chair is yours,” he told Jonah. “I wish you well of it.”

  He turned to walk away. Jonah reached out and grabbed his arm, halting him.

  Sekar looked back at him.

  “Help me,” Jonah said urgently. “You have the knowledge, the expertise. I will need all of that—we will all need any help we can get to save the ship, now.”

  Sekar considered him for a long moment. Then he nodded curtly. “For the sake of the ship, I will.” He walked back to the gate.

  Half a dozen of the guards, both Red and civil, escorted him. Their guns no longer pointed directly at Sekar, yet they were not completely lowered, either. No one, Marlow realized, would ever forgive Sekar for what he had done here today, even though he had been trying to save the ship in the only way he thought possible.

  She had no idea where the clapping started. It began as a little patter, somewhere far down the back of the corridor. Then it leapt across the entire hall, with cheers and shouting adding to the volume.

  Marlow looked around, stunned. Everyone was smiling. Some were laughing and pumping their arms in glee. Others were crying, even as they laughed. Everyone was clapping their hands in almost ferocious triumph.

  Jonah turned her to face him. His dark gaze scanned her face. “Thank you for what you did,” he said quietly. “I know you never wanted to be involved in politics.”

  “I didn’t do it for politics,” she said. “I did it for love.”

  He kissed her, right there in front of everyone. It was their first public kiss…and the entire ship saw it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jonah spent a sleepless week organizing work crews and emergency recovery teams to mop up after the riot, to assess the damage and prioritize repairs. He worked from the Bridge bullpen. He refused to step into the Captain’s office or onto the Bridge itself.

  After the first most critical repairs and assistance were arranged, Jonah called for a properly held election for the Captain’s position, with representatives from every district, faction or interested group or party who cared to put themselves on the ballot.

  “But you’ve already been ele
cted by acclamation,” Henderson pointed out. “Why go through it once again?”

  “So that everyone on the ship feels they have had a say and will be happy with the outcome, no matter what it is,” Jonah replied.

  “We don’t elect captains,” Veda said.

  “We do, now,” Jonah shot back.

  The election was held quickly, with only just enough time for all the candidates to address the ship and explain why they should vote for them. For a week, it seemed as though no one did anything except examine the candidates’ profiles and clippings on the Forum and discuss the pros and cons of each.

  Jonah won the election by a massive ninety percent margin. After that, he could no longer argue that he wasn’t supposed to be the Captain.

  Reluctantly, he moved into the Captain’s living quarters on the Bridge and settled into the work of reversing the long term damage to the ship and the community that lived on it.

  Marlow was just as busy. One of Jonah’s first actions as the new and official Captain was to appoint her commander of the Bridge Guard.

  Her first action was to fire Nicolo Hayim. She promoted Cantrell to lieutenant of the civil division and started to look for someone who could replace Hayim, while she reorganized the Red Guard and redistributed most of their portfolio, so they were no longer the most powerful division of the guard and would never again be able to wield the sort of influence that could topple a Captain.

  At night she would return to her little house in the Esquiline and have dinner with Erron and fall into bed, faint with tiredness and stress. She barely saw Jonah. They were simply too busy and while the ship was in such critical condition, that was how it must be.

  After several weeks of that frantic pace and uncertain about the future, Marlow could feel the ragged edges of exhaustion biting at her mind and body. She was sleep-deprived and weary to the bone.

  She took a call from Erron at her desk, in the big private office that was now hers. “Erron, is something wrong?” she asked. “Are you on the farm?”

  “No, Mom. I’m on the Bridge. Jonah hired me as one of his assistants.”

  Marlow could feel her jaw drop. “He did?”’