by Rob Guy
“That’s your answer? You just decided to keep this from the rest of us, throw away the Constitution. Just like that, huh?”
“Look,” said Berkeley, walking the fore again, “things have been a bit upside down lately.”
“No shit!” said the first speaker. “But this is important. You should have told us straight away.”
“Look, buster,” Berkeley said, getting angry, “we handle more than just garbage collection and street lighting up here, you know. It’s not everyday your sheriff gets killed, even if he was on the take. Then just to top things off some errant miscreant with a grudge decides to go to war against you.” He planted his feet and placed his hands on his belt. “Think you can do a better job?”
“Probably. I didn’t vote for you.”
“That’s it!” Berkeley started to take off his jacket. “Outside now, sunshine. We’ll handle this the old fashioned way.”
Three of the Board members, including Soames, stepped forward to restrain the council leader. The other man looked terrified.
In the midst of all this, Harry watched as the first throes of collapse began to weave themselves through the colony. Even here, in the citadel of the capital, Headlock was conjuring up his mayhem a hundred million kilometres away. And in a flash he perceived the man’s logic.
Such guile, such genius! But still a bastard all the same.
He looked about him. People were jostling each other as the opposing factions of the Council came together to vent their mutual anger at the Board. A few tried to leave the stage, but were quickly dragged back by colleagues, more for their own safety than spite. Fingers were pointed at faces, chests pushed, bad language, all very unpleasant.
An elderly man very shakily stood on a chair at the back. “Repent now!” he shouted, pointing a crooked finger to the ceiling. “Hell is upon thee. Man has failed to quell the anger of Ares. Didn’t I warn you? Repent now!”
“Shut up, you idiot!” said a man next to him. Two others dragged him down, and pushed him towards the exit.
Something snapped inside Harry, and he turned to face the audience. “Listen to me!” he bellowed, but to no avail. “Listen to me!”
The crowd completely ignored him as they continued to bicker and argue amongst themselves, the tension mounting by the second. Once more, Harry called upon an old friend. He pulled the Captain out and fired one round into the stage, missing his own boot by millimetres. He was in somewhat of a daze, but retained enough of his wits to not fire at the ceiling. His action had the obvious desired effect. Everyone stopped and looked at him.
“That’s better. Now, I’ve not listened to this transmission, but if it is true that Headlock sent it then we are in for one hell of a shit storm. We need to prepare. You should return to your constituencies and inform your, err, constituents. But as for the other part, Jesus! I am the one who shot your sheriff, not some other ne’er-do-well. But it was by accident, I may add. I was acting in self-defence. Sheriff Pratt was on Headlock’s payroll, which would lead me to believe that he wasn’t the only one.”
There was a moment of complete silence as this total stranger informed them that he had killed their top policemen, and that their government was corrupt to the core. Then:
“You’ll never take me alive!” someone in the crowd shouted, and pushing his way through the throng, charged for the exit. He ran so blindly that he didn’t see one of the security guards step forward to lay him out with a simple chop to the throat. The man went flying backwards to land coughing and gagging on the carpet.
“Who’s that?” Harry asked.
“Our defence minister, believe it or not,” replied Soames.
“Oh great. One down, how many to go?” Harry moved to the edge of the dais and started waving Captain Chaos above his head. “Any others wish to join our ex-minister for defence, or are you going to come quietly? Huh?”
He stared at them, his eyes bulging, chin and chest pushed out. He strutted up and down, glaring, doing his best to intimidate, and largely succeeding. Two others very timidly put their hands up, and were immediately pounced upon by more security.
“That’s it?” Harry’s head twisted this way and that. “Now’s your chance to make it easy on yourself. Don’t come crying to me when there’s a knock on your door at three in the morning to take you away. Ha ha!”
No more hands went up.
“Very well. As my first act as sheriff, I am placing all three of these people under arrest for violating, erm, whatever act up here prohibits individuals knowingly undertaking any such, er, actions to undermine their government.” He was met by a hundred dumbfounded stares. He coughed. “Furthermore, I think now would be a good time to hear that message. Councillor?”
Harry turned to be confronted by several more wide-eyed expressions. He nodded his head at Soames who came to his senses and moved away to switch on the transmission.
The lights dimmed, and after a few seconds the holo-screen above the stage flickered to life, and out popped a two-metre hologram of Headlock seated in his office.
“Greetings,” he began. “I will be brief. This message is for all the inhabitants of the Mars colony, not just the bloody bureaucrats who I’m sure are all watching this right now.” Headlock paused to clear his throat, and held up a piece of paper. “Ahem. Now then. Pursuant to Article 20, Section 44 Sub-section 81 of the Commodities Acquisition and Treason Act of 2133, I wish to make it known that as from this day, November 2nd 2150, my company, Hansel & Gretel Exports, does hereby declare war on the fore-said Mars colony for reneging on its promise to supply water to the afore-mentioned company Hansel & Gretel Exports. As a consequence of your actions you have put the future of this proud company in jeopardy.
“Unless this office receives a message promising renewal of our agreement to supply water to Hansel & Gretel Exports, under the afore-mentioned Act, I will uphold my declaration of war, and bomb the crap out of you.
“You have twenty four Earth hours to reply from receipt of this message. If nothing is received it will be assumed a state of war exists between us.
“That is all.”
The Headlock hologram was seen to lean over to switch off the recording, but then sat back. “Oh by the way.” All the Board members stiffened, attentive. “If you prefer, this could all end peacefully. Just hand over Harry Watt and Gus Petersen, and we’ll forget this little indiscretion. Don’t, and well..… I think I’ve said all I need to say.
“That definitely is all.”
There were perhaps ten seconds of total silence in the room, the only sound coming from the vintage holo-screen squeaking and popping as it extinguished itself. And then, as one, as if under some master control, all heads turned to look at Harry, as did the whole Board standing on the dais. It was one of the most unnerving experiences of Harry’s life. He had never felt so vulnerable, so far away from where he would rather be. He looked over at the doors, but couldn’t see Petersen. He sincerely hoped the hydrologist had as much common-sense as he had intelligence, and had made his own discreet exit.
Shaking off, to some extent, the all engulfing fear of dread upon him, Harry leaned in to whisper at Soames. “If I may say so, that is one of the dumbest acts of indiscretion I have ever witnessed. You’ve made your new sheriff the target of all this. You idiot!”
“I swear we didn’t know,” Soames whispered back.
“What? You expect me to believe that?”
“We switched it off after the first part, or rather Berkeley put his foot through the screen in his office before we saw the end. It’s the first time we’ve seen that part, I swear.”
“Well that’s just bloody dandy. Thanks for nothing.” Harry looked at the massed ranks of dour faces, and could only come to one conclusion.
“We need to leave, now,” he said quietly to Soames.
“Mmh?” he mumbled, looking out and obviously coming to the same assumption as Harry.
“I said we need to leave. Tell me there’s a back door out of
here.”
“Yes, behind us, behind the curtain.”
“Let’s go, nice and slow.”
Soames recovered from his momentary torpor, and indicated to the rest of the Board to follow him. Very slowly they all began to reverse off the stage, keeping their faces fixed on the crowd. Once at the curtain, Soames began pushing it aside, cursing as the folds bunched up as he frantically searched for the opening.
“Get ‘em!” someone shouted.
It wasn’t a long struggle, nor much of a bloody one, either. Soames, Berkeley, Stevens, Calvin, Jacks and Entwistle made it through before the stage was overwhelmed with furious bodies, kicking and throwing punches. In the midst of it stood Einstein, resolute, with hands raised, like a latter day Moses.
“Please my friends, violence is not the answer. It will solve nothing.”
Thump!
The part time evangelist caught a beauty right on the chin, and disappeared beneath the onslaught of enraged council officials.
“Is it Sunday already?” Harry shouted, dodging a punch. He laughed and moved his head back to avoid another blow. He pushed the man past him, and hit him in the side of the head as he fell. Together with two of the security guards, he covered their rear as the Board members filed through. A couple of them actually stopped to thank him, and one even took up the fight with them, claiming to be an expert boxer. Harry watched transfixed as the man waded in, whistling some shanty, directing well aimed fists at glass jaws.
“One two three, one two three,” he chanted, timing his counting with each connecting punch, as he ploughed his way through the mêlée like some modern day Samson, bodies flying in all directions.
“Who the hell is that?” Harry said, ducking another swinging arm.
“Clarence, head librarian,” one of the guards answered, doing likewise.
“No shit!”
“No shit!”
Pity Angel’s not here. Boy! She and Clarence would have this lot all laid out in no time! Ha ha!
Harry laughed again. There was no denying he was thoroughly enjoying himself. He looked at his fellow protectors and they too were grinning. Nothing like a good scrap. Boy it felt good to be standing shoulder to shoulder with these stout fellows, defending the innocent from a rampaging mob of clerks, teachers, nurses, and architects too, most likely. But a mob was a mob, and a mob could only be controlled by one measure. Fists!
Harry blocked a couple of well aimed blows with his forearms before delivering a knockout punch to a guy’s chin. He watched in delight as the man fell backwards. Twisting this way and that, he took a moment to look around. He noticed that some of the delegates were fighting amongst themselves. At first he was puzzled, until he realized it was evident that not all of them were of the opinion that the Board should be lynched. Unfortunately they appeared to be in the minority. Still, it helped relieve things a bit for their small band of guardians.
As Harry turned to look for the next victim, he caught one on the cheekbone and staggered backwards. Momentarily stunned, he saw stars, but managed to throw a wild punch that connected with someone’s nose. He felt it give way under the power of his fist.
“Ha ha! That’ll teach you to mess with Harry Watt, you bastard!” He looked down, and was rather startled to realize he’d struck a woman. She hit the floor and stared up at him with dazed eyes, blood splattered across her cheeks. Confusion turned to fire in those eyes.
“It’s all your fault!” she screamed, pointing a finger at him. With her face twisted with rage, like a melted Halloween mask, she made to scramble up.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said in a pathetic voice, before someone grabbed his shoulder and pushed him through the rear exit. He looked round to see Clarence beaming at him, a torn collar and a missing tooth to show for his pugilistic gallantry. The two security guards struggled to close and lock the door, and it needed Harry and Clarence to pull on it for all they were worth, while the guards took out their electric nightsticks and persuaded the clinging hands to let go.
35
Preparation
After a nerve-wracking five minutes, Harry and the remaining members of the Martian Council made it back to the relative safety of Berkeley’s office. Alfred and Gerard, the two security guards that had aided Harry in his defence of the helpless, had escorted them with weapons drawn, and that was never a good sign in any society. Harry slumped along at the rear, the Captain in one hand, the other nursing his shiner. The adrenalin was slowly fading from his veins, and he was softly coming back down with lead in his stomach after an almighty rush.
Harry found he was shaking when the doors finally closed, though he knew this was more from fatigue and hunger than nerves. He’d seen far worse during his time on the Bureau, but there was always something ugly and disconcerting about supposedly rational and peaceful people going off their nut. He saw this plain, now that he too was no longer buzzing with the thrill of the battle. It was never truer to say that a single person can be reasoned with, whereas a group can turn into a crazed mob pretty quick.
“Why would Headlock make it so public?” Soames asked, once all were seated around Berkeley’s desk.
“Use your head,” Harry replied, his left eye almost closed. “He knows exactly what he’s doing. Just look what his message has done. Me and Gus now have a price on our heads, thanks to your boot.” He aimed this last comment at the chief councillor. Berkeley muttered something, but didn’t apologize. “I can only hope he’s safe,” Harry continued. “Headlock’s screwed us over before we’ve even started to fight back. He knows it’s still pretty much a wild frontier up here, every man for himself, almost.”
“That’s not true,” Entwistle said. “How dare you say such a thing. We’ve been working tirelessly for years to build a stable and honest society.”
“Yeah, right,” said Harry, touching his cheek and wincing.
“What is that remark supposed to mean?” Entwistle persisted.
“Have you seen the Harrison Building?”
“What?”
“Exactly.”
“I say! Really! Aaron, I don’t need to listen to this.”
“Then leave,” Harry suggested, grunting.
Entwistle puffed out his cheeks and made to stand up.
“Sit down, Theo,” Berkeley told him. Entwistle looked defiant for a second, but slowly settled back into his seat. He seemed content that his meek show of anger had shown everyone that he shouldn’t be messed with.
Harry breathed deep, taking a moment before replying. “I’m not going to argue with you about your achievements. Now is not the time to discuss opinions or politics. I don’t doubt your commitment to such an enterprise, but I will say this; the people want more than just regular garbage pick ups and adequate street lighting.”
Berkeley growled at him.
“They want to feel secure as well as prosperous,” Harry went on. “The last thing they want and expect is for some money grabbing sonofabitch, who they’ve never heard of, be allowed to come here and take it all away from them simply because he is within his legal rights to do so!” Harry took another breath. “What bullshit! You need to tell them that.”
“Unless it escaped your attention, we hardly had time to do anything before they attacked us,” Berkeley said. “I’ve a good mind to order the Constabulary to round ‘em up and cage the lot of ‘em!”
“What’s left of it,” Stevens muttered.
“Well that’s fighting talk, but I’m afraid it’s aimed at the wrong people,” Harry told the council leader. “Besides, we probably wouldn’t be in this mess if you had kept your feet on the ground, literally!”
“I don’t have to take that from you, you bloody little upstart!” Berkeley roared, pushing his chair away and standing up. “You wanna make this personal? Come on, then!” He raised his fists. Harry did likewise, baring his teeth as both men growled at each other, almost nose to nose.
“Sit down and stop behaving like little children,” Mayor Calvin snapped at them
. “We should be putting all our efforts into fighting Headlock, not ourselves. Honestly, you two.”
Both men grumbled, before reluctantly sitting back down.
“Harry, would you like some ice for your eye?” Calvin asked him.
“I’m fine,” he answered, glaring at Berkeley.
“It looks painful.”
“It’s fine, really.”
“Oh, don’t be such a martyr. Aaron, is there some ice in your fridge?” Berkeley simply grunted his reply. Calvin shook her head and went to fetch it. As she bent before the fridge, all eyes were on her. Harry was not displeased by what he saw.
She knows what she’s doing.
She returned with a bag of ice, and handed it to Harry before sitting back down.
“You forgot the bourbon,” he said.
“Don’t push your luck, mister.”
Harry chuckled more than his comment deserved as he placed the ice over his eye.
“What’s so funny?” Berkeley asked him.
“Isn’t this what it’s all about?” Harry lifted up the bag of ice. “You pulled the plug on your agreement to supply water to Headlock, for his Venus project I’m guessing, and this is the result. The more time I’ve had to think about it, I can’t really blame Headlock for what he’s doing. After all, he’s only protecting his own interests. Isn’t that what we all want to do? Was it your dumbass idea to stop supplying water, or did the rest of this backwater shit-hole think it a good idea too? I mean, what did you expect would happen?”
“You goddamn, smart ass, sonofabitch!” Berkeley made to stand up again. Harry too was about to leap out of his chair and resume hostilities, before Calvin slapped her hand on the desk, making a box of pens bounce all over the place. A small, ceramic, twisted figurine of a cat toppled over, breaking off the head.
Berkeley stared at it, horrified. “My granddaughter made me that,” he said in a whimper.
“I don’t care if it was handed crafted by the Dalai Lama!” Calvin exclaimed. “I’m warning you two, right now. Anymore of this belligerent bullshit, and I will have you both arrested. Yes, you too, Sheriff.”