Warden: A Novel

by Gregg Vann

  Barent turned around and looked toward the center of the city, peering through the flames and wreckage. Now that it was relatively safe out, people were leaving their homes to witness the destruction left behind by the war. Some of them joined in to help put out the fires, or aid the injured. But others just stood there, dumbfounded—unable to process what they were seeing.

  Barent was having his own difficulties coming to grips with it all.

  Torvus’ sun was beginning to peek out over the horizon, sending the first tendrils of dawn stretching across the city. The snowstorm building over the last few days had subsided sometime during the night, and even the omnipresent fog that normally blanketed the crater floor was gone, leaving the sky remarkably clear.

  Except for the smoke.

  As the sunlight grew brighter, Barent noticed a small group of people going from body to body in the street, joining the medics and helpful citizens trying to determine if any of the fallen were still alive. But the new arrivals weren’t medical personnel, Barent noted, they were scribes for the Vade Mecum—seeking out the mortally wounded to record their final testaments. He knew they would collect the names of the dead as well, so they could check the datanet and the Vade archives for any previously written testaments. The scribes didn’t normally include pre-prepared statements in the Vade Mecum. They believed such testaments didn’t possess the required clarity of thought—the wisdom that the immediacy of death brought. But they sometimes made exceptions, and Barent thought this horrific loss of life certainly qualified as exceptional.

  Watching the scribes go from body to body only reinforced Barent’s sense of what they’d lost in the war; the knowledge that each of the dead now carried to the grave, gone forever. And the fewer hands they’d have to help rebuild the city.

  He couldn’t help but wonder if it was all worth it.

  Tana followed his gaze as Barent surveyed the carnage. And then she looked up at his face, easily deducing the question plaguing his mind. “There was no other way, Barent. You have to know that.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to convince myself,” he replied.

  “Sergeant Barent,” Dura said. “They found Minister Golen. He was hiding in the subway system below the Central District.”

  Just like a rat, Barent thought. It figures, the one person who deserved to die in all of this is still alive.

  “The Collective army is holding him at the Ministry building,” Dura continued. “What are your orders?”

  “Keep him isolated,” Barent said. “And get some of our own people there as quickly as possible.” He pushed the weariness from his voice and met Dura’s gaze. “And you might want to make sure there are no Wardens on Golen’s guard detail, Sergeant. And definitely don’t leave any of them alone with him. I want to see that bastard live long enough to pay for what he’s done.”

  “Yes, sir. I agree…on all counts. Renik has a force nearby; I’ll send him.”

  “Do you really think one of the Wardens would kill Golen?” Tana asked.

  “I’m not that far from ordering it myself,” Barent replied. “But it’s up to the people of Le’sant to decide what to do with him.”

  Tana’s mind conjured up unpleasant memories from the past—of the Collective murdering Sri, and finding her cold body on the floor with the two Wardens. She also recalled the fear she’d felt as they relentlessly pursued her and Barent across the city, doing their best to kill them.

  “I know how I’ll vote,” Tana said.

  “And you won’t be alone in that, I’m sure,” Barent replied.

  He grabbed Tana’s hand and led her toward the street. “Let’s go see what we can do to help,” Barent told her. He turned back to Dura as they strode away. “Call me on the comm if you need me, Sergeant.”

  “Yes, sir,” Dura acknowledged, and then he yelled out after them. “Sir, wait! Let me arrange an escort for you.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” Barent replied.

  He made a sweeping motion with his arm, indicating the destruction to the city…and the bodies.

  “Take a good look around, Sergeant Dura.”

  “I doubt that anyone feels like killing anymore.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Aftermath

  Sergeant Barent paused outside the door before opening it, steeling himself for the coming encounter.

  It had been nearly a week since the coalition took the city, and though some of the larger piles of rubble still smoldered, the last of the destructive fires had long since been extinguished. The bodies left behind by the struggle were gone now as well, lifted from the streets, and pulled from the remnants of wrecked buildings. But despite the progress they’d made there was still much work to be done—months’ if not years’ worth of cleanup and rebuilding. And though those efforts were vital to the city, and an important part of the overall recovery of Le’sant, they weren’t what was occupying Barent’s mind today. He was focused on another process, one that was only just beginning. And that task—the last real battle of the war—waited in the room just beyond. Barent pushed the door open and reluctantly went inside.

  A few of those seated around the long rectangular table began to rise as he entered the room, but most of them did not—instead staring at Barent in open defiance. He witnessed the full range of emotions on their faces, but chief among the expressions were hatred, and fear.

  “Sit down, please,” Barent directed, and then he took a position at the head of the table and remained standing. He looked out at the group of approximately thirty people waiting to hear him speak, noting the reassuring glances from Sergeant Dura and Renik as their eyes met his. Even Commander Cernes seemed eager to get this all underway, but not the other attendees. They all radiated differing degrees of distrust and resentment, and Sergeant Barent was their unmistakable target.

  And they’re about to despise me even more, he thought to himself.

  “Thank you all for coming to this emergency meeting,” he began. “I won’t rehash what’s already happened; I think we all know the circumstances well enough. I’m here to explain the plan going forward, and I think the Collective representatives in particular will find it all very interesting.”

  A few of the representatives squirmed in their seats at Barent’s pronouncement, because they knew that interesting for him, meant trouble for them.

  Barent had spent a great deal of time over the last few days carefully reviewing General Malves’ final testament—a long and detailed document it appeared he’d been working on for quite some time. The Wardens used the information in it to seize and imprison members of the Collective who’d worked alongside Minister Golen, helping him commit atrocities against the people of Le’sant. Unsurprisingly, the majority of those representatives had been from the Central District, and the power they wielded grossly disproportionate to the size of their constituency.

  The remaining members of the assembly—those at the meeting today—were still guilty in Sergeant Barent’s eyes, as their inaction had also caused grievous harm to the people. But their crimes simply hadn’t risen to the level required for imprisonment.

  And besides, Barent had other plans for them.

  A woman he recognized as Representative Belan spoke up. “Haven’t you done enough to us already, Sergeant Barent? You’ve sent the downtrodden and those displaced from the Common Ring into our homes. The Central and Middle Districts are overrun with—”

  Barent slammed his fists down on the table and the impact echoed throughout the room. And then he glowered at Representative Belan. She saw the rage in his eyes and shrank back in her chair.

  “Overrun with what?” Barent snapped forcefully, disdain and anger dripping from his voice. “They are people, Belan. Just like you. No…better than you. Because despite the opportunity this war gave them to loot and raid the city, they helped fight the fires threatening to consume it instead.”

  Barent strode around to Belan’s side of the table. And then he leaned down, pl
acing his face mere inches away from hers. “And where were you while the city burned, Belan? While others fought and died in a war to free themselves from the oppressive policies you condoned? I hope the view from your skyrise was adequate.”

  Barent leaned back again, adopting his full and imposing height, and then he returned to the head of the table. “Your luxury apartments were not designed as such; they were meant to house four times the number of colonists currently using them. I would suggest that if you want your accommodations back, then you’ll build many new homes, spreading the city out as much as needed to accommodate the growing population.”

  Barent smiled, and his expression sent a chill through the Collective representatives.

  “And this all ties in nicely with my plans for the future. In a month’s time, we will hold a general election in Le’sant. A new group of representatives will be ushered in to fill the voids left behind by those in prison—and to take your own seats if the people find you unworthy. The downtrodden, and the other refugees currently residing in the inner circles, will be voting in those districts as well. So I suggest that you start addressing their grievances now, or in a month, they’ll elect someone else who will. After which, you might find yourselves living in a new part of the city—much further out from the center. In places that will most assuredly expand your social horizons.”

  Barent watched as the shock of the news spread around the table, and then one of the representatives looked up, asking him in a subdued voice, “And what about you, Sergeant Barent? Do you mean to rule us as a king, then?”

  “I don’t mean to rule you at all,” Barent replied. “This current government is only temporary—an administrative tool already in place that can help organize the reconstruction of the city. It will be up to the people of Le’sant to decide what form the new government takes, not me. My suggestion would be a limited one, with major policy decisions determined by a majority vote over the datanet. Between implanted datalinks, and the public and private terminals, every citizen would be able to participate equally. And each person should vote for the issues themselves, not delegate that right away to some representative to vote as he or she sees fit. I’m convinced that choosing others to make your decisions for you, and then hoping they do what's right, isn't the best way to go about things. It’s a system inherently susceptible to abuse, as we’ve seen with the Collective.”

  Most of the representatives avoided Barent’s scathing gaze, looking at each other, or down at the table instead.

  “In my country back on Earth,” he continued, “my original country, we only used elected representatives for the day-to-day business of government…for crafting the minutia required to put the larger decisions into action. They enacted regulatory rules, and minor laws that everyone agreed needed to be put into place. But for major policy decisions, ones that affected the entire country, we held a nation-wide vote, in which everyone participated equally. We didn’t have a representative democracy, where others make decisions in your stead; we employed a direct model, where each individual citizen has their own say on the issues. I will strongly suggest that something similar be adopted here in Le’sant.”

  “But how can the people make decisions directly?” one of the representatives blurted out. “They don’t even understand the issues! How can they decide on anything?”

  Barent looked straight at the man, but he directed his comments to everyone in the room. “And that is just another one of your failings,” he said. “It’s my understanding that the schools in the Common Ring are not only informal, but inadequate. I was also told there were no schools in the Outland at all—informal or otherwise. After we rebuild this city, there will be schools where everyone can receive a decent education. Not just those who can afford it.”

  Barent leaned forward and placed both palms flat on the table. And then he slowly looked down both sides of it, catching the attention of each representative. “Things are going to be very different from here on out, universal education alone will see to that. There will be no backsliding into oppressive rule once the citizens understand the way things should be. The ignorant often champion the causes of their oppressors, and are grateful for the scraps tossed to them in return. But I think you’ll find that an educated populace is much harder to control.”

  Barent reached up and un-clipped one of the holsters on his chest, withdrawing the pistol from it. Everyone in the room froze as he placed the gun down on the table in front of him. "Take a good look at it," he told the representatives. "Because in the end, this is the only power that really matters. This isn’t some replica hanging on the wall in your office, or a display piece resting on a desk to be admired. This weapon is real, and over the years it has taken many, many lives. If you learn nothing else from this war, remember this: if the people remain happy, the guns stay holstered. But if you give them a reason to overthrown the government, they will, especially now. And it won't take five hundred years for it to happen next time. This generation has seen a successful revolution, and so have their children. The people will remember this victory for a very long time, so do a decent job for them so they don't have to repeat it. Work with the citizens to make this city a better, more equitable place to live. Because they’ll be the ones deciding where Le’sant goes from here, not you. You work for them now. And so do I. I told you I didn’t intend to exercise any authority in the future, and I meant it. Once the new government is in place, my power will be limited to a single vote, just like everyone else.”

  “Ha!” one of the representatives exclaimed. “If you so much as whispered a notion, Sergeant Barent, the people would do whatever you wished. Even if you are sincere, which I doubt, anything you say or do will direct their actions.”

  “And that is one of the main reasons I’m leaving the city for a while,” Barent replied. “To give the citizens of Le’sant an opportunity to decide what they want for themselves, without my interference. I will make my own recommendations, of course, and if anything like the Collective begins to rear its ugly head, I will intervene. But other than that, I intend to stay out of it completely.”

  The news of Barent’s departure came as a surprise to everyone, except for Dura, Renik, and Cernes. And he briefly savored the stunned silence of the representatives before continuing.

  “As you’ve no doubt heard,” Barent told them, “we’ve been refitting some of the larger haulers to traverse the wasteland, and a few of them already left to begin returning the Exile and Olin soldiers to their homes. But we also sent a group of engineers in the first convoy to assess the Olin’s condition, and to determine what could be powered up and salvaged.”

  “I heard from them just this morning,” Renik said. “And the initial reports seem very promising.”

  “Excellent,” Barent replied. “I know the Olin would prefer to keep the ship as she is, but bringing a few of the systems back online could make life much easier for your people.”

  “Our thoughts as well,” Renik agreed.

  Barent turned his attention back to the representatives. “Soon, I will be accompanying Renik back to the Olin myself, and leading the effort to negotiate and organize trade agreements between the Olin, Exiles, and Le’sant. But with the new comm relays the first convoy installed between here and the Olin, I’ll be able to remain in touch, and make sure things are proceeding exactly as planned with the rebuilding effort. I can return to Le’sant in mere hours if there are any complications during the process, or even a shred of political interference. And I assure each one of you personally, that I will be far less magnanimous if there are problems.”

  The representatives’ expressions told Barent that his not-so-subtle message had been abundantly clear. He picked up his pistol and re-holstered it.

  “Le’sant’s old breakdown facility is also being assessed for functionality,” he explained. “Although it was originally a factory used to repurpose unneeded starship parts after the Le’sant landed on Torvus, it was also designed to process raw minerals ex
tracted from the planet, converting them into the materials necessary to continue expanding the colony. But since the Pardon War, this city has been stuck in some kind of a survival mindset, stagnating while you tried to maintain the status quo. So instead of creating a real, viable civilization over the years, each generation has just been treading water—as if waiting for something to happen. But no one else is coming to Torvus; this is it. This planet is now our home, and it’s time we started acting like it. We need to establish a mining industry so we can build Le’sant into what its original designers had in mind—to go beyond those aspirations, even. But first, we’ll have to fix what’s been broken. In the short-term, the city will employ the downtrodden and others to help repair the damage caused by the war. And once that’s complete, we’ll continue to use that workforce for the expansion outward. The jobs will help address the economic inequality those people suffered in the past, and allow them to provide for themselves until a social safety net can be put into place. Depending on the level of prosperity these new economic efforts generate, we may not even need a robust intervention for the poor. But something still must be developed to aid the less fortunate in the future, something real, and useful.”

  Barent paused and looked out across the table, witnessing confusion all around. The Collective representatives were desperately trying to figure out their place in this new society he was describing, and they were failing miserably. The war and subsequent arrests had shattered their positions of influence, and Barent’s reforms would strip away what little authority they still possessed.

  But he had no sympathy for them at all.

  “And this is only the beginning,” Barent continued. “Because our economy is going to extend out beyond the city walls now. Effective immediately, we’ll be trading finished goods with the Olin in exchange for some of their abundant food supplies. And over the next few months, we’ll establish a hardened power line from our grid to their ship, to provide the Olin with energy. Renik has also promised to help us build our own farms in Le’sant, and pledged to provide us with the seed and livestock necessary to get started—and the much-needed expertise of the Olin people.”