“Julian, can you give an order of magnitude assessment; low, middle or high,” Hermes asked.
“I can.”
“Would you, please?”
“The median is upper middle but the variance is from high to lower middle.”
“Thanks, Julian,” I said. “What is the worst outcome you predict?”
“The breakdown of the Theocracy.”
“Jesus. How can one press conference cause that?”
“It is the corollary of what you hope to achieve. Your intention is to act as a magnet to iron filings. You hope to align the iron filings in a certain direction. The problem with this analogy is that it is not iron filings you are dealing with, but a collection of magnets each at present being affected by the ones around them. If your action is sufficient, they will line up as you anticipate. However, it is possible that all you will succeed in doing is agitating them even further. I should add that the possibility of this happening is extremely low.”
“Very eloquent. Thank you, Julian,” Hermes said.
“Actually, my intention is only to line up enough of them so that they act, in turn, as larger magnets and line others up behind them.”
“I didn’t understand a word of that,” Jarmasin said. “No, don’t try to explain it. I’d only get more confused. I don’t understand it, but it feels like the right thing to do. Poor Barbita is almost at breaking point. She’s scared the beings who attacked the hotel will attack her next. She’s scared and so are all our friends. Something’s got to be done and Crawford’s the only one with any sort of plan.”
Triss was regarding me with an unfathomable expression. “I don’t like it. It’s too risky. They, whoever they are, have already tried to kill you. If you stand up and says these things, they’ll just be even angrier and try harder.”
“I think I can keep us fairly safe out here in space.” Hermes said.
Triss shook her head. “It’s not just Crawford, it’s everybody else. If they’re prepared to destroy the whole hotel and kill all the people in it just to kill him, what’s to stop them attacking other people like Barbita or the Lottery Commission or… or anybody.”
Honesty-in-Trust looked sceptical but I nodded. “I agree with you completely, Triss. It’s that very thing I’m scared of. It happens all the time on my world. A small group of people believe they’ve been badly treated. They can’t attack the people they blame for this directly so they attack public targets like markets and aeroplanes and big offices; places where there are lots of people. Then they say they’ll continue to do this until the authorities do what they want. The idea is that the people who are attacked will blame the authorities for not protecting them and insist that the attackers’ demands are met.” I shook my head sadly. “The problem is that it doesn’t work. People don’t blame the authorities, they simply grow to hate the attackers or, even worse, everybody.
“Here, my worry is that this group will do what you’re suggesting anyway as soon as they realise they’ve failed and I’m still alive. What I’m hoping is that, if I can get the Interpellators and everybody else off their fat bottoms, they’ll make it very difficult for the attackers to succeed.”
Triss’s eyes were wide. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
“Neither had I,” Honesty-in-Trust said.
“Why should you? You don’t come from worlds where terrorist attacks are an everyday occurrence. The thing is I don’t have the faintest idea what they hope to achieve by killing me. Normally, in these situations, the group responsible for the attack goes public, claims responsibility and makes their demands. That hasn’t happened here.”
“And it won’t,” Hermes said decisively. “As you said, terrorist attacks are hardly an everyday occurrence. The authorities do not know how to deal with this attack but, then, neither do the perpetrators. They have not thought beyond the immediate aim of killing you.”
Honesty-in-Trust was nodding. “I agree. And that makes it likely that, although they might want to make another attempt, the chances are they won’t know what to do or how to organise it. I was doubtful, but now I think we should go with Crawford’s plan.”
“If we’re having a vote, what do the rest of you think?” I said.
The vote was unanimous.
“What will you do afterwards?” Lorca asked.
“After?”
“After you’ve made your grand announcement.”
“Leave. I thought I had already said that. In fact I need to say it very clearly. By leaving, I take away the killer’s raison d’etre and the rest of Geretimal can hate me in absentia.”
She nodded but said nothing.
“Where will you go?” Jarmasin asked.
I shrugged. “I’ve no idea. I’m sure Hermes has a few ideas.”
“Possibly but I will not discuss them just now.”
“Right, we have a plan. Now I need a speech. Something that will make them sit up and take notice.”
Before we could start, Barbita called.
“Crawford, how can I ever thank you,” she began. “It’s wonderful. The place is surrounded by protectors and they’re going to stay with us and guard us when we go out. Thank you.”
“It’s the least I could do. You need to look after my women.”
“What? Oh, you’re joking. Anyway, I’m very grateful. I feel I can relax for the first time in days.”
“Take care of yourself, Barbita.”
Honesty-in-Trust, Hermes and Lorca helped me with my speech. The others disappeared. I was treated to a night of especially passionate loving.
Chapter 30
Sir Sacred-Trust-in-God did not make contact. Oh, well, it was his problem, not mine. I recorded instructions for the media and let Julian take the calls. We sat around in sombre mood until it was time for me to leave. On the advice of Sir Graceful-Ascension, I was arriving after the media had assembled and alone. Honesty-in-Trust and Triss had objected to this, but Hermes and Lorca persuaded them it was the best course.
“If Sir Graceful-Ascension cannot protect him, who can?” Hermes said. “And the fewer of us they have to protect the easier their job will be.”
I left amid a flurry of hugs, kisses, hand shaking and expressions of good luck. Hermes ferried me across and left me at the airlock. I was greeted by four Protectors in full space armour and carrying nasty-looking guns. It was like a scene from Star Wars. They surrounded me and escorted me by back passageways to where Sir Graceful-Ascension was waiting behind the large storage area we were using for the press conference.
“Welcome, Sir MacAdam,” Sir Graceful-Ascension greeted me.
“Thank you, Sir Graceful-Ascension. I’m grateful for your assistance. Have you had any problems?”
He grinned mirthlessly. “None. However I think the Sirs and Madams of the media now have a much better idea of how serious you consider this situation.”
I grinned. “Protectors in full space armour would tend to do that. A nice touch, if I may say.”
He shrugged. “Simply doing our job. There’s a small lectern for your notes. Speak normally. They’ll hear you fine.”
“What about questions at the end?”
“We’ll take care of that.”
I took a deep breath. “Well, I suppose I’d better get on with it.”
“Nervous?”
I looked him in the eye. “If it wasn't for the memory of two very dear friends who died in that fire, I would be a quivering wreck. I’m about to put my life on the line.”
“There won’t be any problems.”
“It’s not the media, it’s what I’m going to say.”
“Stir up some shit, eh?”
“A great deal of it, I hope.”
He squeezed my shoulder. “Keep thinking of your friends.”
I nodded and stepped out into the large, echoing shell of what had once been one of the cargo compartments. It had been stripped down to bare metal, or whatever it was spaceships were made of. Piles of panels, girders, box
es and miscellaneous junk were stacked up against the walls and across part of the floor. Harsh lights bathed the area casting a multitude of random shadows. An area had been cleared at one end and a miscellany of seats acquired from somewhere. They were lined up facing the small lectern to which I walked. It took several moments for the hundred or so reporters and technicians to notice my presence. When they did, the hubbub died quickly leaving an eerie, empty echo. I stepped up to the lectern and regarded them slowly. ‘This is for Flerrionna,’ I told myself as I attempted to still my pounding heart. I began to speak.
“For the record, I am Sir Crawford MacAdam and I am the Lottery Winner.” My voice rang out loud and clear. “I thank you all for coming and I apologise sincerely for the inconvenience you’ve been caused. I am not going to apologise for the tragic circumstances that have caused the inconvenience. I have nothing to apologise for.
“As you know I come from a small system that has no knowledge of the Galaxy or the Theocracy. I know nothing of your politics, and I care even less. Winning a lottery is supposed to be a good thing: winning the star prize in the Grand Galactic Lottery the best thing ever. What has my prize brought me? Nothing but heartache and tragedy. Since I arrived in your fine city I have met nothing but petty bureaucracy, vested self-interest, venality and out-and-out corruption. I, and the ladies who volunteered to be my companions, have been treated like cattle: animals to be exploited, abused and ultimately disposed of. A cesspit would smell sweeter. There were times I despaired… times I wished I had not had this ‘honour’ thrust upon me. But I am an Earthman and Earthmen do not give up easily. So I stayed and I fought to ensure that I and those around me were treated like the sentient beings we are and not pawns in others’ dirty games. I stayed and I fought… for what? For a tragedy to engulf us all? No, not a tragedy. A tragedy implies circumstances beyond the control of sentient beings and a deliberate attempt to murder me can hardly been called that.
“A deliberate attempt to murder me.” I said the words slowly, emphasising each one. “A deliberate attempt that failed. It failed, not because I was clever or well-protected, but though sheer good luck. I may have escaped through good luck, but fifty three other sentient beings did not. Fifty three innocent beings were brutally murdered in a botched attempt to kill me.
“I want you to think about that, Sirs and Madams. I want all the good citizens of Bartimarm to think of it. Mostly I want the Board of the Lottery Commission, the Interpellators, the City Assembly and the Government to think about it. I want you all to think about it and I want you all to ask one question. What is being done to catch the perpetrators of this terrible deed? What is being done to catch these beings who are so far beyond the pale that they forego one of the fundamental tenets of your religion; the sanctity of life.
“Fifty three needless deaths. It makes you think, doesn’t it?
“So what is being done? I will tell you… nothing. In eight days your officials have done not one single constructive thing. They are no nearer finding and apprehending these killers than they were eight days ago. You do not believe me?
“The Lottery Commission hide behind cupboards hoping, if they keep very quiet, it will all go away. The Interpellators are very busy. Oh, yes. Be warned. If you have ever so much as murmured a minor complaint about the Lottery, you’re liable to be arrested. Oh, the Interpellators are very busy, all right. Very busy running round in circles pretending they’re hot on the heels of the culprits. They haven’t a clue. And the Bartimarm City Assembly? The fence on which their fat bottoms are precariously perched is very narrow and must be getting extremely uncomfortable. So one of Bartimarm’s finest landmarks is destroyed? What is that compared to fifty three meaningless deaths?
“Finally, Sirs and Madams of the media, we come to you. What is your role in this? What are you doing to bring the culprits to justice?” I looked round with a deliberate sneer on my face. “I see you looking uncomfortable, as well you might, for you know the answer as well as I. You are doing nothing. Nothing at all. Oh, you report each unfolding event with commendable diligence, but is that all the media should do? I say it’s not. I say to do nothing more than report the bare facts is a dereliction of duty. I say you are failing in your duty to bring the truth to the millions of beings who depend on you as their eyes and ears. Why are you not banging on the door of the Lottery Commission demanding to know what the estimable Chairman and his colleagues are doing? Why are you not camped outside the offices of the Interpellators, demanding to know what progress is being made? Why are you not badgering the Assembly members, insisting they act to assist the Interpellators?
I paused to take a deep breath and studied the faces I could see. Some, the majority, were looking angry, some, a few, bored and some were looking pleased. Whether they were pleased because they agreed with what I was saying or because they sensed a juicy controversy, I couldn’t tell.
“As you may have gathered, Sirs and Madams,” I continued, “I am angry. I am more than angry, I am furious. I am not scared. I am not frightened. I am very, very angry. I am angry because fifty three innocent beings have been murdered and nobody, and I mean nobody, seems to care. I am particularly angry because, on my world, primitive as it is, eight days after an event such as this the investigators would know what the bomb was made of, when it was planted, how it was triggered and, quite possibly, have a good idea who made it. Your society is hugely more advanced than mine yet these simple things are beyond you.
“I am angry because, on my world, all the attention of every being with the duty of caring for the community would be focussed on one thing and one thing only: catching the murderers. And this society, a society that prides itself in being the most advanced in the galaxy, occupies itself with navel gazing, mindless activity and petty squabbling.
“Finally, what can I do? Sirs and Madams, there is only one thing I can do and that is leave. Not run away. Not flee. But leave. I must leave, not because I am scared or a coward, but because fifty three sentient beings have died simply because I exist. I will have no more deaths attributed to my existence. So…” I leaned forwards and carefully looked into every camera that was facing me, “…I address you, you filthy, misbegotten sons of whores who kill innocent people indiscriminately, I am leaving and you will have no further excuse for committing atrocities. Beings who hide behind bombs are cowards and not fit to breathe the same air as civilised beings. I curse you and I spit on your souls.” I had been told this was a particularly vile curse.
I straightened. “Sirs and Madams of the media, I thank you for your time and your patience.”
I stepped back. There was absolute silence for several long moments then a burly being stood and began to cheer, his ‘hub, hub, hub’ sounding discordant in the large, echoing space. Another joined him, then another until almost a quarter of the assembly were on their feet. It was then the scuffles began; beings who had been less than impressed with my words assaulting, verbally and physically, those who were applauding. I needed to get their attention. There was a loose piece of metal against the wall behind me. I picked it up and hit the bare metal wall as hard as I could. The crash of metal on metal halted the melee immediately.
“Sirs and Madams,” I said loudly. “I issue you a challenge. I dare you to broadcast my words in their entirety and without editing. Have you the guts to do that?”
Several reported surged forward shouting angrily. I slipped away and left Sir Graceful-Ascension’s men to restore order.
The man himself was in the back room.
“Sir MacAdam, that was some speech. I am unsure whether I approve or not. While I agree with your sentiments, you were unduly harsh.”
I grinned mirthlessly. “Good. That was the intention. I actually have a high opinion of the Interpellators as individuals.”
“But not the others?”
I shrugged. “You heard what I said.”
He grinned. “Well, you’ve set the cat among the pigeons, that’s for sure.”
“Yes, but will the cat kill the pigeons or will the pigeons band together and drive it off? Which do you think will happen?”
He looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”
“That’s what I feared.”
It took some time for the protectors to clear the media. Some were demanding that I return to face their questions. Some were demanding that the protectors arrest me immediately as a traitor and a coward. Some were already on their communicators, talking animatedly with their editors back on Geretimal. Eventually they all left and Hermes slipped in to collect me.
“Congratulations,” he said. “You were excellent.”
“Thanks, I think. I’m wasted. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything quite so hard.”
“Worth it, if it works.”
“That's a big ‘if’. I only hope they broadcast it.”
He chuckled. “No worries there. One of the smaller stations broadcast it live, including the melee at the end.”
Julian announced that Sir Simpission was calling.
“Sir MacAdam,” he greeted me. “I’m not certain whether to congratulate you or not. That was certainly a brave speech, but you have won yourself few friends.”
“I hadn’t intended to, Sir Simpission. The intention was to galvanise the authorities into action. If it’s at the cost of my popularity, it’s a price worth paying. I want these people caught.”
“Hmm. I’m not sure what line the Board of Zofi-Brennan will take but I’ll try to persuade them. It’s possible this might work in our favour.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“Zofi-Brennan has been associated with the Lottery for a long time. This current situation is not helping our stock in the market. Your attack could reflect badly on us. Our inclination would be to draw in our horns and wait till it all blows over.”
“If you’ll forgive me saying so, Sir, that’s exactly the attitude I’m fighting. From bitter experience on my world, these things don’t go away if you ignore them.”
I Won A Spaceship Page 61