by Chris Hechtl
“Glad you approve. It's not your decision to make though, Governor, let's be clear on that,” Horatio warned. He was fairly certain Walker was setting him up. He would try to steal Horatio's thunder by making it out as his decision. If it failed he'd pass the blame onto Horatio of course.
“I know,” the Governor replied, forcing himself not to grind his teeth in suppressed rage. “Is there anything else?”
“No, not that I can think of. Unless you'd like to lend your hand in building the fleet. We could use those funds that are still stalled in congress,” Commander Logan said.
The chief of staff winced theatrically. The Governor's eyes cut to the others in the room. Madra spread his long thin hands apart slightly. Lake shrugged. The others gave small signs of assent, indifference or negativity. One even rolled his eyes.
“I'll take that under consideration. It's really a matter of Congress; it hasn't hit my desk yet. But I'll see if we can identify the logjam and get things moving again,” Walker replied with a slight hint of amusement in his voice. It would be a cold day in space before he let that money slip through his fingers. It wasn't just the interest he was skimming off of it, it was the sheer amusement over pissing Logan off about denying him it.
“Yes, you do that, sir,” the Commander replied, snide reply clear in his voice.
“I've been considering a few things, Commander. I'll get back to you,” Walker said.
“I'll be here,” Horatio said, sounding like he was warning the Governor. Walker snorted and stabbed his finger down, ending the transmission.
“Damn,” he said mildly.
“Well, that went well,” Lake said in a glorified understatement.
“Did you expect it any other way? He's pretty much used up all the credit he has with the Navy, which he didn't have to begin with. Throwing his nonexistent weight around was stupid. We should have nipped this in the bud ages ago.” Madra said, throwing his hands up in the air.
“What do you propose?” Lake asked as the Governor closed his eyes. He knew better than to bring up trying to remove Logan again. Madra was an indirect action sort of guy. He was a snake, but a smart and smooth one. He was adapting quite well to the changing climate in the capital colony and system.
“Clearing the air,” Madra said slowly. “Getting it all out into the open, spinning it our way, laying it out, and then moving on. It should help with the polls and kill the investigations in the house.”
“What do you mean? The truth? Are you mad? They can't handle the truth! I'll be ruined! Impeached!” Walker snarled as he threw his hands up in the air in disgust.
“There is truth, and then there is truth,” Lake drawled. “It's all a matter of your point of view...” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “And about timing. If we get it right, say dump it in the Friday afternoon news, we'll let them air it all weekend and by the time Monday rolls around it will be a nonissue. People will be tired of it and ready to move on.”
Walker opened his eyes to stare at him. He straightened attentively. “All right, I'm listening...”
---( | ) --- ( | )---
Firefly took on new shuttles including two Warhawks to replace the shuttles left behind in Agnosta. Corporal Hurranna heard about the duty and put in for it but was denied. She had just been transferred to the Set Alpha 4 carrier orbital fortress for training and was too far away. She sent her regrets to Valenko and the others.
---( | ) --- ( | )---
Enrique Salazar Fernando heard his boss's speech and grimaced. The guy was good; he'd give him that. Damn good. One hell of an orator, better than Enrique.
He'd tried to keep the number two slot, to keep his head down, do his best to keep the system running smoothly as he'd done so often before in the fat bastard Port Admiral's shadow. But he'd come to realize the Lieutenant Governor's role wasn't as an XO but more of an understudy. He was a stand-in, go where he's told, a mouth piece with little power, yet one heartbeat away from the true throne.
Ever since Admiral Irons had been exiled, hell, even before that he'd gotten indicators that he wasn't a part of the in-club. He'd tried to play the role, be a good boy, but increasingly he'd resented the way things were run and he'd become more and more vocal about it in the cabinet, which hadn't helped make him many friends though. Nara Thornby had appreciated it, but they'd known each other for decades.
About the turn of the new year he'd picked up scuttlebutt that he was on the way out. Ralkin was looking at his job with hungry eyes, and Walker and his cronies were sharpening their knives. He'd been certain they'd set him up for the long fall, or hell, a short walk out of an airlock. He'd been careful though.
He had tried to change his name, going with the Salazar surname when he put in his bid for the high office. His speech announcing his entry into the race had kicked off a fire storm, and he'd risen through the polls rather quickly. He'd held onto the lead for a while, but Walker was now getting dirty, pulling in all sorts of favors. He didn't like how desperate the man was becoming. Desperate dangerous men did all sorts of things. Bad things, to him and others around him.
Enrique frowned. He had to hold on though; men like Walker couldn't be allowed to hold office any longer. This system needed an enema, a good clean out and flush. Hell, level everything and start over. The corruption alone was bad enough; he knew you had to live with some of it on some level. But the graft, greed, and outright dirty dealings and criminal activity he'd gotten tired of. He'd lived with it under the Port Admiral, enough was enough.
One of the biggest regrets he had was not warning Irons. He'd tried but apparently not hard enough. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He'd try again when he got the top office, first a general house cleaning and then invite the Admiral back. Together they'd turn things around. He checked his implants. He had another round of campaign stops and then he'd be able to return to Anvil for a day or two off to rest and regroup. Then on to the next circuit.
---( | ) --- ( | )---
Jethro heard about the furor and a speech by Governor Walker through the ship's grapevine and picked up the download as he prepared for bed. He started to watch it but was distracted by the ongoing activity in the troop bay so he paused the file. He made certain the Marines were aware he was watching. The scuffle ended abruptly, and the parties separated. He nodded.
Everyone was tired and short tempered. Spitterman was finally coming along as a noncom, though he still had a long ways to go. He'd shed a lot of weight though. The constant pounding by Jethro and his squads had gotten him to get his act together.
Since the cargo bays and other large areas were busy the Marines had taken to training in the Annex simulators and even in the park. But getting the troops from point A to point B was a bit of a hassle, something or other would always get in the way. An old friend passing by, a prickly officer who insisted that protocol be followed so they could go by first, whatever. The panther heard another argument forming and turned to look.
Later when he was in his rack he picked the video up from beginning. At first he was confused, his tired mind was having trouble coping with the concepts Walker seemed to be putting out. But then he picked up on the feelings that went with the speech. It embodied many things he wished Walker had done earlier.
He now understood why others were enthused by it as the speech progressed. The human did have a presence, a certain charm about him. Jethro however attributed it to a snake since he had inside information about Paul the People's Man that others didn't or discounted.
Governor Walker admitted to knowing of the plot a day before it transpired but did nothing to do stop it since it had been vague and undetailed. “That's my sin. I screwed up, I admit that. It's hard to admit when you are wrong, especially in my job. There was some regrettable confusion with the record; Admiral Irons actions were being confused with those actions of the cloned Port Admiral who proceeded him. That has since been rectified.” He paused, one hand over his heart. “For the record, Admiral Irons is innocent
of all charges, and I deeply regret my standing silent on this for so long. No longer. As Governor of this system I formally pardon him for any crime involved in this event and extend that for any alleged crime for his entire stay here. We need to put this entire sordid business firmly into the past and move on to a bright new future together.”
Jethro felt like cheering over that simple admission and statement. It was clearing the way for the Admiral to return to where he belonged. Cynicism be damned; for once a politician was doing the right thing for the right reasons.
“We have a bad habit of tearing down our heroes, people who show us up, who show us we can be better than we are. They show us mere mortals that we can do more if we just stepped up. For seven centuries we've wallowed in the darkness. Wallowed in it, knowing nothing could be done. Waiting for someone else to come along and do something. Well, Admiral Irons is one such hero; he came here with the singular purpose of making our lives better. He succeeded. He succeeded beyond our wildest dreams. But some short-sighted people tried to end that.”
“We drove him out. Cast him out because we couldn't bear the thought of a hero, because it is in our nature to tear them down, to make them equal to our own inadequacies. It is a terrible fact of nature, instead of rising to his example, we failed. I failed,” the Governor said, one hand over his heart.
He looked uncomfortable for a long moment before he cleared his throat and then nodded sharply, hand falling once more to his side. “That ends today. As of today I am going to do better, for myself and my family.” He indicated his wife and kids. The image cut to them and then back. “The Admiral has lit the way. I extend the invitation to him to return to do so again.”
Jethro felt something, a phantom within him snort for some reason. He frowned, hitting pause, but there was no further response. He shook his head, not really understanding what had just happened. After a moment he hit play once more and settled himself down to listen.
“In these uncertain times we must band together to get things done. The Admiral has led us by example, doing what all thought was the impossible,” Walker orated sternly.
The speech went on to sharply divide the actions of Port Admiral from Fleet Admiral Irons, even showing images of each and video to showcase the stark differences. The video was a bit graphic when it came to the actions of the Port Admiral. Jethro wondered briefly why no one had brought that up before. Then he remembered...the news agencies, even Knox news had refused to air them. Some of it was blurred out, but enough was there...he frowned, wondering where Walker had gotten the footage. And why he was doing it now.
Then he remembered something. Walker was up for re-election this year. It was a tight race. Some said very tight. Walker needed all the upward momentum he could to keep his job. He exhaled noisily.
“It is regrettable that the child accuser and his parents didn't live to discuss this with investigators. No doubt those who were overwrought with the situation acted hastily, or they truly did commit suicide. We shall never know. Irregardless, this discrepancy has been a hindrance to returning things to normal and clearing the Fleet Admiral's record. That discussion will hopefully have ended with this broadcast.”
“Right. Sure. I'll just bet it has,” Jethro said, eyes narrowed. He knew now where this was going. He noted the video was a few seconds away from ending so cut it off and shut the file.
Jethro returned to the here and now and listened as fellow Marines in the troop bay picked apart the speech and talking heads while going about their daily life. Cynicism was deep, but there was an odd bit of humor in it as well.
Indeed, he judged that cynicism was great over the speech, which was to be expected considering the audience. He was curious about what the civilians were saying. He frowned thoughtfully. He couldn't trust the talking heads, each spun the story towards their own ends. That much was obvious.
He overheard comments from other Marines in the bay over the Governor and his speech. Was it an act was the still the main topic as well as pardoning not just Admiral Irons but all those involved to put it behind them and move on as a people, not let it tear us apart.
Jethro thought about that, cocking his head. The implications to him personally were now interesting. He wasn't stupid enough to come out and say anything though. Those that did know wouldn't say anything either. At least he hoped so.
“Yeah right. He's covering his own ass. I bet he was neck deep in the whole thing,” Jethro growled softly to himself.
“They won't implicate him any further and the various investigations and committees will die,” Sergei said from his rack.
“Maybe that's a good thing. I mean we need to move forward,” Harley said.
“True. I hate to admit it, but the bastard is right about that,” Sergei growled. “Still doesn't mean I have to like him.”
“I know. And I'd love to get a chance to meet him in person. A lot of Neos and aliens here would I bet,” Harley growled in agreement.
“But now with him in charge. He's involved. But...” another Marine said. This one sounded human.
“But he's the Governor. I think we need to give him the benefit of the doubt,” another Marine said, sounding enthused.
“Maybe.”
“He's worried about Antigua,” another Marine commented with a laugh.
“He should be,” another said. Despite his implants, Jethro had a hard time picking out who said what if he didn't recognize the voice. After a while he stopped trying to.
“Antigua? What about it?”
The Marine snorted. “Didn't you hear? We've got competition now. We were just there, that Prime station is a factory city. It's turning Antigua into an industrial power house.”
“Oh.”
“And word is the Admiral was offered a deal by them if he returned.”
The Marine's eyes widened. “Oh. Oh yeah. Now I get it!” He nodded thoughtfully. “Well, that sucks for Pyrax, but we're Navy. We go where they tell us,” he shrugged.
“True.”
“I don't give a shit if the capital is Antigua or Pyrax.”
“Is that what that was about? Trying to get the Admiral back?” Sergei demanded. “Or setting up where the capital will be?”
“Of course it was! Don't think for a minute it wasn't! You've got to admire it; he covered a lot of things. He tried to bury the hatchet with Admiral Irons and his supporters, covered his own ass, and tried to get Admiral Irons back to restart the industry and his own stalled political career. Now that some of the industrialists have had a taste they want more. More badly. I bet they offered him the governorship for life if he could get Irons back.”
“Governorship or Presidency,” Ox rumbled. “Don't forget that. Wherever the Admiral turns up, that is where the capital will be. Which means the local politicians have the inside track when it comes to the President seat.”
“It makes me sick.”
“Ah hell, it's politics. What did you expect? It will work or it won't, not our problem until they make it our problem.”
“Wait, how can they give him the governorship? Or presidency?”
“By bankrolling him. Financing his campaign, get out the vote drives, character assassinations, and hell, real assassinations of other potential candidates. They are waking up to what's at stake,” Harley said slowly. “I'll bet people will have accidents. All sorts of shit is going to happen, nasty crap.”
“Shit.”
“Right up your alley, Harley,” someone said. “All bad jokes and crap.”
“Easy,” Sergei said, putting a hand on her shoulder as she growled. “He's yanking your chain, right?”
“Right,” the unknown Marine said hastily.
“It's all bullshit anyways. Why do we care? It's not like our vote really matters. And besides! We're not going to be here anyway!”
“Yeah, my sentiments exactly.”
“Somehow I don't think I want to be in the Admiral's shoes right about now. With everyone gunning for him,” Ox said slowly. That mad
e the compartment very quiet for a few minutes as people thought about that carefully.
“The Admiral can take care of himself. We just need to do a better job watching his back,” Jethro said. Slowly the others nodded in agreement.
---( | ) --- ( | )---
“So, any more progress with our combative friend?” Madra asked mildly.
Jarvis shook his head. “No sir, we're not certain of his schedule. It looks like he's going to be on the Bismark for some time.”
“I think we can induce him to come back to the Annex, paperwork and such,” a tech said. The investor looked at him. He gulped. “It's a thought sir.”
“Yes. Well, the last time you tried to deal with him on your own you failed miserably didn't you?” Madra asked mildly.
The tech flushed. “That wasn't my fault sir. He changed his schedule.”
“Which is why you don't go through the elaborate trouble of setting up something as complex as an innocent shuttle accident,” Madra said tisk tisking. “Pity he didn't cooperate,” he said. “Rather rude of him,” he said with a smile.
“Yes, sir. We'll get him the next time. But we do have another issue.”
“Oh?” The investor asked mildly, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Do tell?” he asked.
“It seems Nameli is getting restless. He's not happy about the officers that came in on Firefly. He laid low, but it was close, or so he said,” Petty officer Third class Baker said. “He did pass on a tidbit, a new contact. A tech, Miller. Seems seriously pissed at a Marine and Firefly. Ripe for the plucking.”
“Very interesting, Baker,” Jarvis said. “But Nameli...is he going to be a problem?” he asked. He turned to his boss.
Madra frowned thoughtfully. He knew the risk of using someone as exposed as Nameli. He didn't like it, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. But the window of his usefulness was closing. If the current crisis blew over, there would no doubt be a euphoria and then a general house cleaning when awkward questions started to come up.