by Pam Uphoff
Dave drove sedately out, ignoring the kids looking out the back window and waving to the staff that had collected outside the front door.
In Paris he parked in the no parking zone and escorted them all up to their apartment. Ran a quick search, didn’t get any itchy feelings.
There hasn’t been enough time for anyone to set up anything, even to bugging their apartment . . . I wonder if they still use that term? I’ll have to ask.
“Right. Welcome to Paris, and please call for a ride or escort.”
Xiat shook her head ruefully. “I used to be the bodyguard. Even after all these years, it feels so wrong.”
Izzo grinned. “I’ll nag at her, remind her of the trouble some people have given her in the past.”
Dave hesitated.
Xiat snorted. “I graduated from Princess school and joined the Presidential Directorate . . . fifty-two years ago? One! Well, forty years of presidential security doesn’t wear off very quickly . . . and possibly not at all.”
Dave scrambled to remember all the dates and presidents . . .
“During President Uzmo’s third term, both of President Apjy’s terms, all three of the first Orde’s three terms.”
“Huh, so you knew four presidents.”
Xiat shrugged. “Not well. Not like I got to know this Orde. In fact I know Urfa much better than I knew the other directors. Urfa was always . . . more a part of the security apparatus, than a politician with security as just one of his responsibilities. Worked better too.”
Izzo chuckled. “We’ll both behave, but all I have tomorrow is a meeting at ten. So . . . why don’t you plan on picking me up at nine?”
Dave drove back to Versalle not particularly liking the situation, but not itchy.
Fourteen days. Then all the candidates will start announcing. I wonder how many people who don’t have government jobs will announce?
When Dave picked up Izzo at nine, the man was bright-eyed and grinning. He spotted Dave’s raised eyebrows and the grin widened. “Today will make it or break it. So. Hotel Argenteuil. I have a party to crash.”
Dave started the car, and put the hotel into the navigation system. Looked over the pictures it ran through. Big covered fancy entrance, valet parking . . . “Izzo, I know you’re one of the New Warriors, but even the Prophets had bodyguards. Will you wait to crash the party until I’ve parked and can accompany you?”
Izzo leaned and poked at the screen. “Actually, there’s an entrance back here that I’d prefer to use. We’ll park back there and walk in.”
Dave nodded. “Political maneuvers starting already?”
“Just dropping in on some old friends.” Izzo’s grin was sharp and hungry, his eyes bright.
A happy warrior in the field of his expertise. Right. Let’s go get ‘em.
***
And not exactly a battle.
Lucky Dave thought about just being part of the background, as Izzo sought out a small meeting room. No more than a dozen men and women, chatting, the door open . . .
“Izzo!” The first man to spot him sounded surprised. “I don’t suppose you’ve come to rejoin your old party?”
A lot of eyes brightened at that, only a single scowl . . . and that faded into thoughtfulness.
Izzo shook lots of hands, only needed two introductions.
Dave eyed one man, his deep red complexion very foreign . . . was this the XR subdirector? Tok, with a deep pop in front of it? He was clearly delighted to see Izzo.
He thumped Izzo’s shoulder. “So . . . how much trouble are we going to get into today?”
“Oh, this is just a quick visit. I wouldn’t want to disturb a Party meeting.” Izzo grinned. “I mean, it’s not as if you’d consider merging with the Modernists, to combine your broad appeal in the Colonies with Orde’s popularity here to take advantage of the way the One Firster have pulled voters out of both the War Party and the Isolationists.”
!Tok nodded. “Really, it would be so hard to find someone well known on Homestead, as well as a solid reputation and well known to the public here. Although perhaps not so hard as persuading someone else to quit their job to run from our ranks.”
Heads turned from !Tok to Izzo and back.
The man standing at the head of the table laughed suddenly. “I’d forgotten how the pair of you used to plot and plan . . . or just jump in and support each other no matter how hare-brained the idea. Thank you for dropping by Izzo. Perhaps you could hang around for a while.”
Izzo grinned. “They’ve got a nice snack bar here. Good coffee.”
Dave stepped back out the door, all clear, and Izzo followed him. The door shut firmly behind them.
“That . . . was very interesting.”
“Yes, but we won’t mention it again, until they’ve realized this is . . . workable.” Izzo pointed the way and a subtle spell, an illusion, slid over his face, the hair darker, the face young.
Dave snorted. Can't have people wondering why the man expected to be the Modernist’s candidate for president is kicking his heels around the corner from a meeting of the leaders of the Strong Federalists, can we?
He thought fatherly thoughts, without a clue if it disguised him at all.
Two coffees and half a dozen overpriced cookies later, Izzo’s comm buzzed. He looked at it and grinned.
“Let’s go do some more talking . . . or it might be time to arrange a meeting with the Modernist leaders.”
Dave frowned as he followed Izzo. “You have talked to them, haven’t you?”
A couple of the Federalists caught that and nodded. “You have, haven’t you?” The leader asked.
Izzo ushered them back into the room and closed the doors.
“I have spoken to Orde, Urfa, and Exle. We hashed it over and agreed that we’d support shifting a whole lot of responsibilities to at least the regional level, if not below. If. You will admit that some things do need to remain at the Imperial level. And not suddenly decide you dislike so much trade with outsiders.” Izzo eyed them. “I suggested that since you had wanted, and have apparently been pleased to receive the gates among the colonies and to Embassy, you would realize that the Modernists have already shifted a great deal of power to the colonies.”
A man down the table snorted. “In trade, not in government.”
“Not officially. Not in making law. But economically? The laws Orde fought to get passed changed regulations so that colonies can trade independently—if they wish—or not. Their choice.”
!Tok looked innocently around the table. “It’s really no surprise that over seventy percent of registered Strong Federalists voted for Orde four years ago. It’s hard to spot a downside to this.”
Numerous glowers bent in his direction. “Especially since you think it lets you off the hook!”
“Well, you know me. Personal before Party.”
Dave decided, based on the combination of amusement or irritation around the table that !Tok had probably just mangled a party motto. Or something.
Izzo looked serious. “It just so happens that Orde, Urfa, Exle, and I will be meeting in Versalle tomorrow. If you would care to join us.”
Had it all worked out and set up, didn’t they?
Chapter Twenty
Announcements at Midnight
30 Ramadan 1414
“The problem with getting reference letters is that the most important people I know are relatives.” Arno scowled at the screen of his comp.
Across the table, his annoying twin sister nodded. “Aunt Rael would be awesome, and Dad too. A subdirector! But not the biodad. I wrote a letter to One Ytry asking for a letter of recommendation, but I haven’t got one back. So who are you going to ask?”
“You actually asked a priest? One of the priests we dosed with Joy Juice?” Arno blinked. “I don’t suppose they would blackball us . . . would they?”
“One Ytry had a sense of humor. The other priests? Brrrr! No way.” Ryol smirked. “Anyway, I asked the President for one. And I think I’ll
ask Lucky Dave.”
“Wow. You do have nerve.” Arno looked back at his list. “I was going to ask Izzo . . .”
Ryol nodded. “And then he quit last week. Which means . . .”
“He’s going to run for President. One! I really hope he can pull it off.” Arno looked back at his comp, and his immediate problem. “Maybe I’ll ask Ebsa. He’s a distant enough step-relative.” Ra’d’s the one I ought to ask . . .
Clicking heels on the floor. “Ready to go?” Their mother looked them over and nodded her approval. “The limo is two minutes out, so if you need to . . .”
Arno shut his comp and headed for the lav.
A garden party at Government House to view the fireworks on the Eid. All the families of the top people invited. Hmm, how many of Aunt . . . Mom’s co-workers have I been around enough to ask for a letter of recommendation?
Well, they’ll all be planning their speeches for after the announcements right after midnight.
***
Mother and Dad got pulled into a circle of adults, but Aunt Rael swooped by and towed them over to a small group of kids and tossed out names, before disappearing again.
“Hafez and Hafiza? Are you guys twins too?” Ryol jerked a thumb at Arno. “Is your brother as annoying as mine?”
The girl giggled. Arno met Hafez’s gaze and they both nodded.
Ali, who looked a few years older, snorted. “Girls! Although, since she saved Dad and Uncle Dave, I ought to kiss her feet or some other . . .”
Whap! “I heard that, young man!”
“Sorry, Mom!”
“So your dad is the Warrior Davos?” Arno frowned. “Do you know him very well?”
“From mom’s stories. I was two years old when . . . well, I don’t know if I’m remembering him, or remembering things mom’s told me about him. The last year and a half has been interesting.”
The girls had drifted off a bit, chattering.
Arno caught a question of Ryol’s. “Was Lucky Dave married?”
“No, his magic wasn’t very strong, so no one wanted him . . .”
Hafez snorted. “He was always away, Karima. Guarding Commander Nicholas.”
“Ha! Shows what you know!” Karima looked . . . twentyish, maybe?
“C’mon.” Ali led the way to drinks and snacks, and they met some other boys, and talked about school and admitted that girls were starting to look pretty good.
Arno looked back at memories, feelings, from last year . . . Am I insane, to have let Master Xen turn off my hormones? But for more power . . .
Half an hour to midnight, the fireworks started. And ended at exactly midnight.
President Orde stepped up to a raised circle, tonight supplied with a podium and microphones. The potential candidates and party leaders moved up close. Traditionally, the party with the sitting president started the announcements. Dave grinned at the wave of comments that swept the crowd as the Modernists were joined by the Strong Federalists in the circle.
“It’s with pleasure that I get to start the campaign season off with the announcement of the merging of the Modernists with the Strong Federalists. We’ll be filing the paperwork later today, forming the Modern Federalist Party.”
Another wave of comments, mostly hushed, in tones of dismay . . .
“And right now, two immediate contenders for the Presidency, Ugpw Withione St. John’s East Canada, and Izzo Withione Tanta Alcairo.”
Polite clapping as first Ugpw, and then Izzo stepped up and recited the official declaration.
No speeches tonight. Tomorrow it’ll be nothing but speeches as they all trot out their agendas and try out their stump speeches. The ones aimed at the whole Empire, as opposed to the ones that will take aim at the regional audiences.
They all walked off with pauses for shaking hands here and there.
The War Party took the circle, with three candidates. The Isolationists had two. Then the One First Party was next up with “The Crow” Ycrw Withione Volla Naples’ rolling out the declaration with his deep honeyed tones. It came close to a fist fight right there when Insa Withione Kubra Alcairo stepped up and declared.
The microphone was fortunately not sensitive enough to have picked up the Crow’s hissed threat. But Dave caught it, and the through-the-teeth comment that he hadn’t resigned his Council seat.
Sneer. “Sent it just before midnight, to avoid exactly the sort of shit you’re going to be . . .” they were out of hearing range, and Dave shuddered at the thought of being the bodyguard of either man.
Major Eppa said earlier that he would try to assign guards to people they like, so as to encourage vigilance. He’s going to have trouble finding people to guard those two!
And . . . I’m presidential directorate, not Black Horse . . . so now that these guys are official candidates, I’ll be the poor fool analyzing threats and hopefully seeing them coming in time to tell the bodyguards about it.
Then the Multitude Supreme Party . . . Diego Jesus Blanco Ramos had resigned his Council seat a week ago, and was apparently their only candidate here tonight. And the head of the Nativist Party, Ketzel of Falconhurst from Vista Colony stood up there alone to declare his candidacy. The last Party—the Pacifists—were fielding two candidates. Guur “Beautiful Flower” Neartuone Lana’i was the sole female candidate, and Oscu Withione Redrock Badlands from the Badlands Colony was the last candidate to declare.
Urfa stepped up to the mic to invite any independents to step up, and having no takers, thanked everyone for coming and invited them to stay for the last round of fireworks.
And tomorrow . . . later today . . . we get to work.
Chapter Twenty-one
Organizing Analyzing
1 Muharram 1415
Lucky Dave eyed the other dozen people in Urfa’s conference room. Rael, Idlo, Inre, and Ydro he’d met often enough. The other eight, well, he knew their names.
Urfa walked in last, Puur in tow, as usual. “Right. As the Presidential Director, I’m recusing myself from this project. Rael? Call me if you need advice or whatever, otherwise, it’s all yours. Good luck, ladies and gentlemen, hopefully we can keep everything peaceful.”
And off he went, having not even sat down.
“Well,” Rael shifted to the head of the table. “Apart from the usual rivalry between the parties, this season will be enlivened by the two One Firsters being at each other’s throats. Since midnight, we’ve had six more people declaring. One each from the War Party and the Isolationists. Two more Multitude Supreme and two independents.”
She leaned back. “Now, most of the security and protection will be in the hands of the Black Horse Guards, but it is also our job. We’ll be monitoring chatter, looking into threats both verbal and on Grid. All the candidates will be sending us all the electronic and written threats they will be getting.
“And we do not play favorites. While we’re on this job, we don’t favor any of them, we don’t act against, or fail to notify anyone. Got it? If you have a problem with that, keep in mind that our friends and colleagues in the Black Horse will be throwing themselves between the candidate you hate, and anyone trying to harm him. If you still don’t give a damn, you can go back to your regular job and I’ll pull in some new people.
“In fact, with the new candidates, I’ll be pulling in more people anyway.”
“One challenge we’ve got are the two female candidates.
“The Black Horse Guards, being so overwhelmingly male, every woman Guard is going to be out there with the families. And they’re going to be stretched to cover them all. So, Mick and Save? You will be doing some closer coordination with Guur, who apparently wants to be called Beautiful Flower, and the new Isolationist candidate Toag Withione Brisbane in venues where it’s difficult for the guys to check the lavs and so forth. Most large venues, there are a few more private lavs, so that hopefully won’t be an issue and you can concentrate on analyzing all the hate mail . . . stop frowning. In six months you’ll be begging to go back to l
av checks, and changing rooms and escape from the hate mail.”
The two women’s frowns turned thoughtful.
“After the Primaries, we’ll have half the people to cover, and half as many targets for the troublemakers to spread their joy among. So we’ll be concentrating both guards and analysts on the nine or so remaining. The independents may stop campaigning at some point, when they run out of money. So their guards can be reduced, but not eliminated altogether.
“So, with that in mind, we’re setting up in Versalle, second floor south.
“Now, let’s a take a look at these candidates. In theory the four former councilmen will be familiar with security and coordinating with bodyguards, except that Ramos always refused an escort ‘because the people loved him’ so we may have a problem there.”
They sorted them out, personality types, wives—neither of the women candidates were married—children, princesses.
“The eight who do not have assigned princesses already, are getting them post-haste. Like as not temporarily. But we can hope their presence works as a reminder to their principals to stick to verbal means of attacking their rivals.” Rael looked around the table. “Any comments? Any worries?”
Idlo nodded. “The Multitude Supreme could get . . . interesting. They’re all flavors of Socialists, but Ramos is from Mexico and fairly dark. Elias Mann is from the Caribbean and appears to have a lot of African heritage. Burchett is a White from South Africa. A traditional hotbed of racism, but I don’t know about him personally. They may well join forces and push universal socialism, or . . . not.”
Rael winced. “Right. Ydro? Do an in-depth search on Burchett, looking for any history he has, one way or another. Has anyone been to Vista Colony?”
Idlo raised a finger again. “Nowhere near Falconhurst, whole different culture. Ketzel will be a European horseriding hunter clan, and the Anglofied clan name means it’s a new one, established well after the Oner takeover. Even odds he’s a Halfer.”