Starfist - 12 - Firestorm

by Dan Cragg

  “General Billie recommended the Green Lizard. He said you’d been here before, Senator,” Sanguinious Cheatham replied, smirking. “Besides, Senator, we can’t quite conduct our business in one of Fargo’s more upscale bistros, can we? We, ah, don’t want your colleagues to know you’re meeting with Billie’s lawyer, do we?” He shifted from smirk to smile.

  “And just what is our business, Counselor?” Cheatham was a senior partner in the law firm of Feargut and Cheatham, which General Jason Billie had retained to represent him in a suit he planned to bring against President Chang-Sturdevant and Marcus Berentus over the war on Ravenette. Feargut and Cheatham was a well-known firm that specialized in high-profile cases. Their fees were high but so were their settlements, and they had a nearly perfect record at winning controversial cases. Often merely the announcement they’d been retained in a case was enough for their client to win an out-of-court settlement.

  “Ah. Well. You’ve read the statement General Billie gave you?”

  “I have.”

  “And will you use it?”

  “I will.”

  Cheatham nodded his approval. “You see, the General has decided to go after the principal architects of the Ravenette fiasco. This Cazombi fellow, he was a mere instrument of President Chang-Sturdevant’s misguided policy. It was Chang-Sturdevant who pardoned the rebels, after all. She could have overturned Cazombi’s surrender terms but she did not. I presume you will call Cazombi to testify when you hold your hearings?”

  “I will, of course. I would call the president herself if I could, but that is out of the question, as you very well know. Now where does that leave me, Counselor?”

  “As President of the Confederation of Human Worlds, of course. If you play to your advantages.”

  Kutmoi permitted himself a barking laugh. “You can’t be serious, Counselor. That’s not possible.” He grinned and folded his stubby little fingers sanctimoniously.

  “Politics is the art of the possible,” Cheatham replied airily. “Your hearings could bring down Chang-Sturdevant’s government, certainly weaken her party, excuse me, your party, in the next election. You could stand as an independent in the primary. Party loyalty, Senator, like ethics in the legal profession, is a matter of expediency, pure expediency.” He smiled expansively.

  “And how am I to do that with my hearings?”

  “Surely, Senator, I don’t have to explain that to a man of your experience.”

  “Try me.”

  Cheatham shrugged. “Pack the panel.”

  “Everyone does that, so what?”

  “Select the right witnesses to testify.”

  “Anyone can testify before my committee; all they need to do is apply to the clerk of the senate and they’ll be put on the agenda.”

  Cheatham grinned. “Select the right witnesses.”

  “Ah. But you realize the president will have reports and affidavits submitted in advance, already has in fact, that could be very damning to your client’s case. I might have to take a bath on this, Counselor. Oh, I’m going forward with it, that’s my job,” he added quickly, “but I don’t know how many of the senators on the panel I can get to agree on my final report or how many members of the full committee will go along with our recommendations and support legislation.”

  “Screw the affidavits and your final report, Senator, if you will permit me such language. It’s how you appear during these hearings that the public will remember come election time. Do you think the voters will read your report? Don’t make me laugh. Control your witnesses—it’s all theater and you know that.”

  “But this Cazombi, he’s a reputable, highly respected officer. His testimony can be damaging.”

  “Of course you’ll have to subpoena this Cazombi fellow, but no one else from his side, you see? None of the senior commanders who were on Ravenette. As to those of the public who volunteer to testify”—Cheatham shrugged—“all you’ll get there are assholes. Their testimony won’t count for beans. Shoot Cazombi down and you shoot Chang-Sturdevant down. Use these hearings to get the Congress to pass legislation limiting the use of presidential powers and you come out as the man who saved the Confederation from that dictatorial harridan. If the legislation ploy flops, no matter, you proposed it and that’ll count heavily in your favor. Blame its failure on the timidity of your colleagues.”

  “I voted for the war, don’t forget.”

  Cheatham permitted himself another shrug. “Yes, but you saw the light, Senator. You were one of the few who did. Capitalize on that. Nothing impresses a judge more than honest contrition, and in this case the voters will be your judge.”

  “You should be a politician.” Kutmoi grinned.

  “And you, Senator, should be President.”

  Kutmoi laughed.

  “And here, sir”—Cheatham passed a crystal across the table—“is a generous contribution to your election campaign, all legal and aboveboard. The code on this crystal will give you access to an account established in your name and you can draw upon it as necessary to finance your campaign expenses.”

  “What goes along with this contribution, Senator?”

  “Bosch Feargut wishes to be appointed Attorney General in your administration.”

  “And?”

  “And perhaps, when the time is right, a seat on the Supreme Court.”

  “And you, counselor?”

  “Ah, me, a mere atom on the scales of justice?” he asked, waving a hand airily. “Well, with dear old Feargut away serving the citizens of the Confederation of Human Worlds, I become the senior partner in our firm.”

  Kutmoi raised an eyebrow in surprise. The first was a modest request, the second one not at all unusual or that hard to get confirmed. “I hope the money in that account is not contingent upon my winning the election.”

  “It is not, Senator.”

  “Then consider it done.”

  “Then I shall bid you good evening, Senator.” Cheatham rose to go.

  “I’ll see you around.” Kutmoi grinned up from his seat.

  “You certainly will, Senator. I’ll be sitting right beside General Billie when he testifies.”

  Munchin’ Donuts was a popular eatery on the corner of Lincoln and Washington Streets in downtown Fargo. Its windows looked out on the crowds of shoppers and office workers hurrying to and fro, and the eatery was usually crowded during the daylight hours. People in the streets frequently stopped to gaze longingly through the windows, eyeing the culinary displays set out there, the huge varieties of donuts, cakes, pies, breads, and sandwiches for which the establishment was famous throughout the city of Fargo.

  Alistair Cazombi casually dipped his plain cake donut into his coffee and regarded the stocky, bald-headed man sitting across from him. “What can I do for you, Senator?”

  “Back home, when I was younger,” Ubsa Nor began, “I worked in the mines. Gave me an appreciation for what it’s like to work with your hands, be low man on the pole. I’ve never forgotten that, General. I think you know what I’m talking about.”

  Cazombi laughed briefly. “Worst duty I ever had in the army was kitchen police in a consolidated mess hall. I was on pots and pans, Senator. When the day was done my fingers were so wrinkled from the hot water they looked like raisins.”

  “I opposed the war on Ravenette, General. I oppose Chang-Sturdevant’s government.”

  “I know that, Senator. So why don’t you tell me why you asked for this meeting.”

  “I’ll come straight to the point now.”

  “I’d appreciate that, sir.”

  “When you come before my committee for confirmation to be the next Chairman of the Combined Chiefs, I will support your nomination. I’ll do that because you’re the best man for that job. You did what you had to do on Ravenette. I’m also on Haggle Kutmoi’s panel ‘investigating’ the Ravenette war and I’ve read all the reports and statements. Kutmoi’s going to use that investigation as a springboard to support his candidacy for president when h
is party holds its next election convention. He wants to replace the Old Lady. That I cannot stand for, General. Yes, he is the greater of two evils, in my eyes. We’ll run someone against Chang-Sturdevant and maybe win, but Kutmoi cannot be allowed to run for president. Anyone, even the Old Lady, is preferable to that man. So when you testify before that committee of his, you’ve got to hit him between the eyes. If he carries this hearing off and gets the publicity he’s seeking, that may be all he needs.”

  “So he’s not interested in finding out the truth about what happened on Ravenette?”

  “No. Privately, he thinks Jason Billie’s an idiot, an incompetent braggart who should never have reached the rank of private first class. But Billie’s a showman, you can count on it that his testimony will play like a Shakespearean tragedy. You’ve got to counter that.”

  Cazombi shrugged as he bit into his donut. “I’m no actor, Senator. I’m going to tell the truth, and let the chips fall where they may.”

  “But, General,” Nor said and gestured helplessly, “you’ve got to loosen up, you’ve got to show some, well, emotion in your testimony. I know they call you Cazombi the Zombie, but you’ve got to lighten up, billions of people will be watching.”

  “I never learned how to express emotion very well, Senator. That, and these damned donuts, are the only personal shortcomings I’m aware of. It’s too late for me to reform now.” He popped the final piece of donut into his mouth, “I’ll do what I’ve always done, speak straight to the truth of what happened. You see, Senator, I don’t need vindication, I won’t play politics, and frankly, it’s all the same to me who’s president. I’m a soldier and it’s my duty to follow orders to the best of my ability.”

  “But you know right from wrong, General! I’ve studied your record. I know what happened on Avionia Station with that scientist, and on Ravenette you stepped in and acted. I mean, you put everything on the line out there.”

  Cazombi reached for another donut. “These are my worst sin, Senator. Have one?”

  Nor shook his head. He knew there was no use coaching the man. “Have you retained legal counsel, General?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I ask who that is?”

  “Sure, Lieutenant Judie Dorman, from the Combined Chiefs Judge Advocate’s office.”

  “Jesus’ bloody nails!” Nor exclaimed and ran a hand over his head in frustration. “Billie’s retained the finest attorney in Fargo, maybe the world! And you’re going in there with a lieutenant JAG officer?”

  “Yes. Her military bearing impressed me.”

  “Military bearing?” Nor groaned. “Aw, what the hell, General, gimme one of those donuts.”

  With a bang of his gavel, Haggle Kutmoi, the Confederation Senator from Bulon, senior member of the Senate Armed Forces Committee and chairman of the panel hearing testimony relating to the recently concluded war on Ravenette, convened the committee’s first session.

  Kutmoi was in his element. In the public eye. Running things. Asserting himself over the president, her cabinet, and the armed forces of the Confederation of Human Worlds. He was joined by seven other senators, three from his own party, nominally supporters of President Chang-Sturdevant’s policies, and four from Ubsa Nor’s party. Recently Nor and Kutmoi had made news when they came to blows in the Senate steam bath, fighting over the war on Ravenette, but for the hearing they seemed to have put their differences aside.

  That Kutmoi was chairing the committee was extraordinary in itself because its avowed purpose was to gather evidence to sponsor legislation limiting the president’s war powers, and possibly to establish grounds for impeachment proceedings over the way in which she had pardoned the secessionist leadership. Since Kutmoi was seen by many as a possible successor to Chang-Sturdevant as President of the Confederation, many watching the hearings realized they were merely a grandstand for Kutmoi’s political aspirations. They also expected the hearings to be grand theater.

  Above the chest, Haggle Kutmoi looked the perfect image of a senator—white, wavy hair, distinguished facial features. But from the chest down, he resembled a turnip with matchsticks for arms and legs. That morning he was visible only from the chest up.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I now call these hearings to order,” Kutmoi intoned. “Our purpose here this morning and in the days to come is to hear testimony relating to the war on Ravenette, the summary and illegal relief of the army commander in that war, the president’s pardon of the war’s instigators, and a review of the President’s abuse of her war powers in violation of the Confederation Constitution. Our first witness this morning will be General Jason Fosdick Billie, lately commander of our ground forces on and around the world known as Ravenette.”

  After being duly sworn, Billie and Sanguinious Cheatham took their place before the panel. “I will keep my remarks short.” Billie smiled up at the senators as he made a show of unfolding a thick sheaf of papers, which brought a laugh from the spectators in the gallery. He conferred briefly with Cheatham, nodded at the panel, and began. “I have been a soldier all my life. It is with heavy heart I take this seat today to testify in these hearings. My heart is heavy not because of anything that happened to me on the world known as Ravenette, it is heavy because I must bring to light certain events that will no doubt embarrass deeply certain members of this government, and more particularly, some of my erstwhile comrades in uniform, men of valor and reputation who, because of a totally misguided government policy, were forced to make decisions in keeping with neither military tradition nor the ethics of the military profession.”

  Billie spoke for more than an hour. During the entire performance the gallery was rapt in total silence. Billie’s words rolled off his tongue in mellowed tones, and occasionally his voice vibrated with profound feeling. He used allusion skillfully, referring to the heroic deeds of the past in such a way that without saying so, he compared himself with those heroes. Many watching compared his speech with that of Douglas MacArthur’s “Old Soldiers Never Die” performance. He referred only obliquely to those who had relieved him on Ravenette, and never once did he accuse them of anything but bad judgment arrived at on the spur of the moment while under extreme duress. He was magnanimous and generous and totally controlled. General Cazombi, who sat awaiting his turn to testify, shook his head in amazement. The last time he’d seen Jason Billie he was screaming and cursing and frothing at the mouth. Now here he was, John Wilkes Booth in his finest role.

  Billie wore his uniform as he was entitled to as a retired flag officer. It was resplendent with rows of ribbons, all for meritorious service, of course, but none of the senators and few others watching knew the difference. Later there would be much comment in the media about Billie’s wartime service compared with that of Alistair Cazombi’s, but what stuck in the public’s mind was his live performance before the panel.

  “In conclusion, gentlemen, I now publicly acknowledge that if I made mistakes in my command, they were entirely my own. I take full responsibility for the lives we lost on Ravenette. I regret only that I was not able to execute my strategic plan in time to save more of my men’s lives. I ask you, the people of this Confederation, and almighty God to understand and forgive me.”

  Congressmen and observers in the public galleries stood and cheered when he had finished. There were no questions.

  Next Cazombi was sworn and took his place before the panel, the buxom Lieutenant Dorman at his side. She wore no decorations on her uniform because she had not been in the service long enough to earn any. Cazombi wore only the Army Good Conduct Medal that he had earned as an enlisted man. Millions of former enlisted personnel throughout Human Space took notice of that simple decoration.

  “Mr. Chairman, senators,” he began, “I did what I had to do.” Lieutenant Dorman whispered something in Cazombi’s ear and he shook his head. “I obeyed General Billie’s orders faithfully. I carried out my mission to the best of my ability. I relieved General Billie when, for whatever reason, he refused to take advantage o
f a strategic breakthrough of the enemy’s lines. I saw the opportunity for victory and took it. The sworn testimony submitted by the other officers present at that time will amply justify my actions. I deeply regret I had to relieve General Billie of his command, but I believe I had no other choice. I have nothing further to say at this time.”

  Lieutenant Dorman appeared to be suffering an attack of apoplexy. Cazombi laid a hand on her arm, said something, and smiled.

  There were no questions from the panel. “You, you may retire now, General,” Kutmoi muttered. He seemed perplexed, like the man waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Ah,” he murmured, looking nervously at his colleagues, “we may recall you later, sir.”

  Alistair Cazombi stood, gave a nod to the senators, and with one hand on the small of Lieutenant Dorman’s back, left the gallery. They sat silently in the senate shuttle that connected with an underground station in the center of Fargo, where they could avoid the press corps waiting outside the Great Gallery.

  When they emerged onto the street it was raining. They stood in the shelter of the underground entrance, watching the rain fall. “You could have bombed them, General,” Lieutenant Dorman said at last. “But gee, that Billie.” She shook her head. “It was an award performance.”

  “Aw, he’s just full of hot air, Judie. People will catch on quick enough. They always do.” He laughed. “You should have been there when I relieved the bastard! Best thing I ever did.”

  “But sir, we have all the evidence.” She patted the small container of crystals in a uniform pocket. “We could have displayed it all right there, put an end to this whole thing today.”

  “Judie, we have all the ammo we need. The senators have copies of all those testaments too. They or their staffs can read them later. There are times in war when it’s wise to let the enemy come to you. Now, my dear, would you join me in a cup of coffee and a donut? Donuts are my only vice.” He put an arm around her shoulder and they stepped out into the rain.