Guardsman

by Pam Uphoff

  “Made it with ten minutes to spare.”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Election

  25 Shawaal 1415yp

  The Current Events Seminar was moved to very late Wednesday, and was going to run until the last polling places closed, when Polynesia and western Alaska hit midnight.

  Which would be seven o’clock Thursday morning on the East Coast of North America, and Thursday noon in Paris.

  By the time the results, the speeches, and the announcements were over, Government House in Paris would throw a victory party that would run into the night.

  Here, after the results, at least two thirds of the student body would hold a wake over breakfast, while the winning faction crowed about it. Then they’d hold a few classes, mostly for the professors to go over the finals with them, and point out common problems that they really ought to work on over the Ramadan break, before they hit the next level class in the Spring semester. Same Friday and Monday, except they wouldn’t be excused from the run, and then they’d all be off for a month.

  The seminar was much less formal than usual, and in fact closely resembled a big party, complete with drinks—non-alcoholic—and munchies supplied by the cafeteria. Of course, everyone brought extra goodies.

  The big screens showed the candidates frantically racing around the globe for one last get out the vote effort.

  The professors had wisely split the students up by party affiliation.

  The Modern Federalists’ section of the whole opened up Grand Lecture Hall was the smallest, with the War Party loyalists spilling over from one side and the Isolationists crowding them on the other. The One First Party held the opposite quarter of the building, and it sounded rather like there were still political arguments going on, and both sides accusing the One Firsters of pulling votes away from the established parties.

  About fifty of us, and a hundred and fifty each for the others. Here the One Firsters are as large as the other two. World-wide? C’mon, Oners are less than eight percent of the population. Even with the Halfers that the Crow tried to appeal to, less than a quarter of the population. And if the school is any indication, they won’t be voting as a block.

  The most coherent block will be the !Zolt.

  The biggest question here, is how will the Multitude vote?

  Ramos would be a disaster of a President, with the Council ignoring him, over-riding his vetos. I’m really glad he alienated the Asian population so thoroughly.

  The Modernists took pity on the three defiant Pacifists in the upper seats, and invited them to come down and have some cookies.

  At three in the morning, Arno stretched out on the floor, his * hat pulled down over his eyes, and snoozed. At five minutes to seven Pussy kicked him.

  “Up and at ‘em, Hotshot. It’s time to face the music.”

  Arno groaned and crawled to his feet. “Remind me to never sleep on concrete again.” He staggered up to the lavs, wishing he’d packed a toothbrush, then back down as the countdown started, with everyone chanting.

  Two minutes ago we were all too tired for this nonsense . . . Three . . . two . . . one . . .

  And the numbers started scrolling down the screen, the totals on one side, the districts reporting in, starting in the far east and racing westward.

  Izzo leapt into the lead immediately, commentators talking about his years as the subdirector of the Pacific region. Then the Chinese and Indian votes reported in and Afgu, Ycrw, and Ovli passed him in a virtual three way tie, but Izzo was hanging on in a strong fourth place. The Middle East and eastern Europe were mixed, with Izzo closing the gap with a strong showing from his Alcairo division and Orde’s home Ottoman Clan and surroundings.

  Western Europe went strongly for Afgu . . . then the colony votes rolled in, with a sweep for Izzo vaulting him well into the lead.

  “Holy One!” Ryol squealed and bounced. “He even beat out the European votes!”

  Arno swallowed. “And the polls had the Western Hemisphere pretty split. Is it enough for him to hang on?”

  The numbers kept scrolling Brazil, Uruguay . . . Izzo took Uruguay tidily, Colombia was a toss up, the rest by a hair.

  “All the photo ops with Rael, and her clear endorsement.” Ryol bounced more.

  New York, East Coast, Great Lakes. Mid-west . . . Izzo barely ahead in New York, then he took the Central Plains. The last of the west coast, western Alaska and Polynesia . . .

  “Oh my One!” Ryol started screaming “He won, He won!”

  Cheering around them, groans from beyond, cursing. Everyone quieted down as the counts were rechecked. An inset window on the big screen showed a grinning Izzo tapping at his comm. Hand over his mouth to keep it private . . . more tapping . . . and a third, that elicited a frown, and nod.

  Then Arno’s comm buzzed. He pulled it out, a three way, Mother calling both of them.

  A quick text message.

  Arno sucked in a deep breath and met Ryol’s wide eyes.

  Arno clicked off and watched the screen confirm Izzo’s win.

  Milo shoved in from the War Party side.

  “Well, Hotshot, guess you called this one. Why the poleaxed look? Not so confident that Izzo will do a good job, now that he’s somehow pulled off a win?”

  “No . . . the poleaxed look is because Dad’s going to be the Presidential Director.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  A Party with One Winner and A Whole Bunch of Losers

  26 Shawaal 1415

  Izzo watched the recount . . . then the official certification.

  Half his attention on his com.

  “Ox, how’d you like to be my presidential director?”

  “I suspect I will hate it. But I’ll do it.”

  “Excellent. Excuse me for being abrupt, but . . .”

  “Yeah. Later.”

  Izzo tapped again. “Hey, Ajki. I don’t suppose I can lure you into the Modern Federalists?”

  “No.” Firm. Resigned.

  “Oh well, will you none-the-less remain as Director of Interior?”

  “Yes. Are you sure?” He sounded surprised.

  “Eh, let’s just drop the politics, we’ve always gotten along. And now I’ve got more calls to make.” Izzo clicked off, tapped in another number. And hit his first road bump.

  “Izzo! Are you insane?”

  Izzo grinned. “Problem, Ajha?”

  “Yes. Are you replacing Ajki at Interior?”

  “No.”

  “Black Point, your wife’s Uncle. And how about your Presidential Director?”

  “Crap, you’re right. Ox is Black Point. And Xiat’s half cousin. And you.”

  “Even if I wasn’t a double half cousin, you can’t have three Black Pointers. I highly recommend Wxxo. Good organizer, well known to all the teams as a no-nonsense boss, works regularly with Info and Research.”

  “All right. You’re off the hook. This time.” Izzo clicked off, glanced over at Exle. “Well, I’ve got Presidential and Interior Directors. I just have to talk with my second choices at Exterior, and I’ll look like I’m well prepared.”

  Urfa grinned. “So shall I send transport for all concerned?”

  “Sure, umm, Ox’s two older kids are in New York, but since they worked in my campaign I’d especially like them to be here for the inauguration.”

  “Yeah, can’t really get them here for the party tonight, but we’ll get them here for the inauguration.” Urfa grinned. “Ox is a damned good choice. You need a director you can trust to not do anything . . . dubious unless there is no other way and it really has to be done. You need to know that he won’t cut corners.”

  “Exactly. Otherwise I’d have tried to get Ajki. And no doubt there will be some other shake-outs. But today I make a speech and tonight we party, and in three days, the swearing in.” Izzo grinned. “And I am certain that the Directorate School will consider Arno and Ryol attending the inauguration to be a reasonable reason to miss the last day of classes.”

  “Yep. A
nd now it’s time for you to make that speech. C’mon.” Urfa led the way through the crowd. Slowly.

  Lots of congratulations, as they headed for the raised platform.

  Izzo stepped up, and turned to face Government House, across a sea of faces. He tilted his head upward at the figures on the roof of Government House.

  “You get a good view from up there, and you can see the layout of the gardens here.” Urfa grinned. “Nothing like the maze behind the Gothic Horror, though. Tonight, of course, there are lots of camera men for the news services, as well as spectators.”

  Izzo scanned the crowd, there was Xiat, being escorted toward the platform. Lots of black and purple uniforms . . . there was Lucky Dave. Talking to Qamar, who pointed at the roof and walked toward Government House. Dave turned the other way, and veered suddenly.

  A disturbance . . . Ycrw and Insa. Yeah, it’s traditional, and a courtesy to invite all the candidates, even the losers from the primaries.

  Rumors that some people run just to get invited . . . have never been disproven.

  But it’s just begging for trouble, having those two at the same event.

  Dave put a hand on Insa’s arm, steering him away, talking.

  The Crow’s glow flashed, his fingers curled into fists. The space around them expanded and people drew back from the eruption.

  “ . . . get you, you son of a dog . . .”

  “One! Ycrw mad enough to yell?” Urfa muttered. “Didn’t think the iceberg had it in him.”

  “Heh. He’s having a bad day.” Izzo grinned. “I’ll have to ask Dave how he did that.”

  ***

  “I probably should not have mentioned that people have been detained but not yet charged, in order to keep an appearance of a normal election.” Lucky Dave shrugged. “Above my pay grade.”

  Insa growled. “Do you know anything about that explosion in Italy, two weeks ago? Is it the same . . .”

  “They’re getting a chemical match, with the truck bomb. If the people from there have any idea who they were working for . . . and if it’s Ycrw . . . He’s toast.”

  “Surely there was a cut-out. I know he thinks he’s brilliant but surely he’s not that overconfident?” Insa shook his head. “Unless he’s a whole lot more screwed-up mentally than I’d ever guessed.”

  “Eh. He worries me a bit. There’s that male pattern behavior, where, in the face of losing his wife, a man kills her, the kids and then himself.” Dave hunched his shoulders. “So he lost the presidency. How does a narcissist behave? Someone normal looks to see what he’s done wrong, and starts planning to fix that the next time. Ycrw?”

  “I don’t think I want to hear how you guys analyzed me.” Insa looked around. “I haven’t seen his wife. Surely she came . . .”

  Dave glanced back, didn’t spot Ycrw. He tapped his pocket to switch his vocal back on and send to the surveillance people. “Do you have a location for Ycrw?”

  “Men’s lav, first floor.”

  “Thanks.” Dave switched back to listen only on the main channel. Very handy, these ear buds.

  He glanced back at Insa. “Lav.”

  “Huh. I always wondered if he was sufficiently human for that.”

  Dave grinned, and strolled back toward the podium. The crowd was splitting among those wanting to hear Izzo’s victory speech, and those who were wishing they could ignore it. And a very few who even refused to even be polite about it, backs turned. He spotted a few One Firsters he knew among that batch.

  Shifted uneasily. But they aren’t the problem.

  Scar’s voice on the main channel. “I’m not picking up any serious threat feelings from that lot. But I won’t rule out a bit of noise.”

  Lucky Dave hunched his shoulders . . . Shit, something is going to happen . . .

  He tried to just walk . . . found himself going in circles . . . looking toward Government House, up on the roof . . . He switched back to surveillance.

  ***

  “Is Ycrw still inside?”

  “On the roof.”

  “And we have plenty of people up there, right?”

  Qamar went up to check out the view.

  “Yes. And everyone up there has passed a weapons check . . . Crap! Ulle, move on Ycrw . . .”

  Lucky Dave turned and looked up at the roof line . . . at the spectators moving away from two figures . . . Dave froze as he realized the one being dangled over the edge was Qamar. The man holding her was nearly invisible from this angle, but Dave had no doubt about his identity.

  “. . . dome shield, we’re not getting through it at all . . .”

  Dave turned calmly and walked away. Cold and then suddenly hot. That terraced mound behind the speakers platform would be best. I need to be as high as possible. And invisible.

  No wonder I brought the bag along today.

  “Miserable little cheater! You stole this election from me! Well, now you’re going to have to listen to me!”

  Dave shut out the magically amplified voice from above.

  The longer he talks the better.

  Dave stepped onto a side path that circled the platform. He could hear Izzo speaking to the Guards trying to shift him. “No. Let him see me, talk to me. It’ll buy you guys time.”

  Exactly.

  Dave looked back at Government House. Trees blocked the view. Perfect.

  He pulled out the handles of the bag, opened it and pulled out one of the active camouflage blankets. Turned it on and slung it over his head and wrapped up in it as he walked on. Climbed up to the top of the mound and found a good view of the roof line.

  This is the best I can do.

  Keeping everything under the blanket, he pulled out the sniper rifle.

  Set up the bipod and snugged down . . . tented the blanket over the scope and front sights . . . and sighted in on Qamar. Stiff faced, blood on her neck, a slow trickle coming from under Ycrw’s hand.

  Some sort of small blade . . . two rings on his middle finger, one far out near the tip. Something that had been concealed in a thick masculine ring?

  You don’t need much of a blade, with your hand right over her carotid artery. Just dig your fingers in and . . .

  Qamar blinked slowly, three time. Bent her head slightly to the right. Got pulled back. A slight seep of blood. Her eyes moved left-right-left-right-left-right. Bent her head slightly to the left, then straightened.

  Dave aimed carefully at the left side of Qamar’s head, just above the ear. At this upward angle, the taller man was completely covered. A faint halo of darker hair showing.

  Dave was sweating, hot. The autumn sun beating down on him. Was he really seeing through the scope? Did he actually meet Qamar’s gaze as she blinked three times . . .

  He squeezed the trigger.

  They fell.

  The smaller body stretched out her arms, shields glittered and she swooped . . . stalled out and dropped ten feet, with an odd braking effect near the ground.

  Dave abandoned his gun, threw off the blanket, and raced down . . .

  Qamar was sitting on the ground, Rael crouched beside her, examining her neck. “All superficial, I’ll just put a very mild healing spell on it. And . . .” she pulled out a tiny med kit with a wipe to deal with the blood . . .

  Dave leaned over with his hands on his knees. I will not faint.

  Rael looked over at him and shook her head. “Dave, I am going to work your ass off until you can shoot like that all the time. And that was a damned nice bit of flying for a girl who’s never even tried it before. Qamar.”

  “I’ve watched you do it . . .”

  Rael stood up and Dave stepped forward to offer Qamar a hand up. She took it and stood, leaned on him. "I knew you’d remember the hostage protocols.”

  Dave swallowed. “Yeah. And you remembered, too.” He hugged her back.

  Then Umaya arrived to snatch her away . . . to finger the short loose hairs above Qamar’s ear, the matching loose end hanging from the bun on the back of her head. Her brows lowere
d and she eyed Dave with disfavor. “You will never again shoot that close to my daughter.” It was definitely an order. Verging on threat. The Prophet’s wife steered her lone chick away.

  Dave swallowed, feeling shaky. Blinked at the bottle Rael handed him. “Drink it. That was a very impressive shot. Through a physical shield.”

  Dave chugged half the bottle. Took a deep breath as he steadied. “I used that sniper rifle we . . . found. Scar said the bullets had shield piercing spells on them.”

  “And you guided it magically, Dave.” Rael punched his arm. “Now let’s check out what’s left of Ycrw while Izzo tries to cobble together a new victory speech.”

  ***

  The shot had caught the side of Ycrw’s head, smashing bone . . . Dave suspected that the bone, and the shockwave had done most of the damage. More than enough to kill him. The fall hadn’t done too much damage.

  “I threw out a kinetic absorption field.” Rael shook her head. “Fine if he’d just dropped her. It was the knife . . .” She knelt and looked at Ycrw’s hand. “Yeah, see the threads? The ring unscrews, a coiled razor strip with this little triangle at the end. That’s going to make weapons searches into a real pain in the . . . Well. Good job.” She thumped his shoulder. “Now let’s go talk to Urfa and Izzo.”

  ***

  “And I’ll add domestic fanaticism to the list of things to be aware of, to beware of.” Izzo shook his head. “This has been a brutal election. We all need to rethink our strategies, and leave out shootings, bombing, hostage taking . . .” Izzo looked straight into the bank of vid cams. “The election’s over. Now we need to pull together for the good of the Empire.”

  Dave circled the crowd—apparently a bloody attempted murder and fatal shooting was insufficient to cancel the rest of the victory party—and stood near the commander and family. Got another dark look from Umaya, and an approving nod from Nicholas, as his arm tightened around Qamar. Then the speech was over and people moved away.