Up Against It

Home > Other > Up Against It > Page 25
Up Against It Page 25

by M. J. Locke


  She still did not reply.

  “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. We need to get this settled and move forward.”

  “‘Move forward?’” she repeated. “‘Get this settled.’ Why not call it what it is? You’re sacrificing me, and the whole cluster while you’re at it, to stay off Ogilvie & Sons’ shit list. Smart move.”

  Anger rose behind his eyes. “You’d be wise to choose your words more carefully.”

  “Well, I’m not feeling wise at the moment. The truth is, you’ve let yourself be outmaneuvered, and you’re jettisoning the one person in the best position to keep the bad guys out. If you don’t regret it now, you’ll regret it before too much longer.”

  “Be careful who you threaten.”

  “That wasn’t a threat. It was prophecy. Look, I know Nathan Glease has told you that if you want the ice, you need to get rid of me. But they are playing you. Woody Ogilvie doesn’t share power. He has ships out there, and he’s probably made a deal with someone to stage a coup. Either an opposition leader or someone in your own organization. You open the door to him, and you are signing your own death warrant.”

  Benavidez rolled his eyes. “Listen to yourself, Jane.” He sighed and rubbed at his face. “They’re pirates, I grant you. But even they can’t go that far over the line. It would be financial suicide. You said it yourself. With Upside-Down watching, they can’t afford to indulge their worse excesses.”

  “What are you going to do when they land with their ships full of soldiers?”

  “Val is training squads of his own. If they play that card, we’ll be ready with our own troops to meet them. Tit for tat.”

  “One-week recruits, against professional mercenaries? Look around you!” She waved her hands. “‘Stroiders’ can’t protect you! Even if they couldn’t just wait for an offline period, you are in the biggest ‘Stroiders’ broadcast shadow in the city. All they have to do is march a squad in here, subdue your staff, put a bullet in your head, and then tell the world whatever fabrication they want.”

  She leaned across his desk. “Mr. Prime Minister, I know these people. I was in Resource Allocation on Vesta when they took over. I saw it all. I learned their methods. Why do you think they want me out? They can’t get around me. I have almost three decades’ experience keeping them at bay. You’re a fool to let me go.”

  “Enough!” he bellowed. Benavidez lowered his voice. “Face it, Navio. There is nothing more you can do.” He shoved the document toward her. “Sign this, and we’ll have the ice in three weeks. Thousands of people’s lives saved. The math is simple.” He leaned back. “It’s for the good of the cluster. You have dedicated your life to helping Phocaea. All I need is this one last act from you, and you are free.

  “You’ve had a good run, Jane,” he said. “You still have your whole future ahead of you. You will have your connections. Sign, and I’ll see to it you’re rewarded with a lucrative consulting contract.”

  She did not bother to read it.

  “If I refuse?”

  He shrugged. “You want it hard, we can do it hard. I’ll fire your ass. No severance, no pension, and I’ll no longer shield you from Parliament. They’ve been pressuring me to bring you in as a witness. They want to prosecute you for criminal negligence. You may well end up in prison.”

  “I haven’t broken any laws.”

  “They’ll manufacture something. They need a bad guy.”

  “I’ll fight them.”

  But Benavidez was already shaking his head. “Jane, you don’t have a handhold. Yesterday you stood in front of the press and said there was nothing wrong with our life support, and now everybody knows that the disaster was caused by a feral in life support. They think you lied to them. Your sammy quotient is tanking. Haven’t you seen this morning’s numbers?” She wondered how much of that was him, working behind the scenes to make it easier to fire her. “You know how it works,” he said.

  “Yeah,” she said bitterly. “I know how it works.”

  He gestured at the document. “Take a look. A million troy in your bank account. Full health benefits. A six-month-long expenses-paid vacation for you and your husband. And you keep your pension fund, fully vested.” He sat back. “It’s up to you.”

  She read through the document. It was a generous offer. Incredibly generous. They could bring the rest of Xuan’s family Up in no time. “A vacation on the moon?”

  “Till things calm down.” He paused. “Sisyphus leaves on Wednesday. I’ve arranged for you to have a two-bunk berth on it.”

  Jane gaped. “You’re turning the ships loose before the ice gets here?”

  “We have no need to hold them, once the Ogilvie ice is on its way. The sooner we get the regular shipping lines moving again, the better.”

  “Sir … frankly, that is sheer idiocy. You’re throwing away any chance of getting even a portion of your people off Phocaea, without those ships.”

  Benavidez sighed. “Don’t you ever give up? Ogilvie has won this round. We can’t play chicken with two hundred thousand lives. Freeing up the ships proves to the populace that we are confident that things are back on track. It lets us put the resources where they are needed now.”

  “I’ll need to have my lawyer look this over.”

  He templed his fingers. “I’m afraid this is a take-it-or-leave-it offer. The cluster can’t spare the time and resources for a protracted set of negotiations. I’ve been exceedingly generous, but if you leave without signing, you won’t see an offer like this again.”

  She sighed. “How am I supposed to wrap things up so quickly?”

  “We don’t have the luxury of a transition period. You’ll have to leave the responsibility with your staff. Once Parliament’s Resource Committee hits you with a summons, you’re on the hook. I can stave them off till Wednesday, but no longer. It’s then or never.” Jane sank into a chair and looked over the document. It was very straightforward and to the point, and it contained everything he had said.

  Benavidez said, “This isn’t about you, you know. I don’t believe you’re truly at fault for the warehouse incident. But I can’t protect you any longer. This is our only way out. I can’t let the cluster come to harm.”

  A chilly echo of her own earlier words to Sean returned to her. By his own lights, he was sacrificing her for the good of the cluster, just as she had done to her eight dead.

  “What guarantee do I have that you will honor this contract?” she asked. “The same people who pressured you to fire me will want to prosecute me—they will try to create a big media event with me at the center, to distract people from the ugly stuff that they have done.”

  “You know me, Jane,” the prime minister replied. “I may be playing hardball, here, but I’m not out to screw you. You have served me well for a long time, and I haven’t forgotten that. I am confident I can fend off the wolves through Wednesday. And the minute you set foot on Sisyphus, the money goes into your account.”

  Another long silence, as she looked through the document.

  “What are you going to do about the sabotage?” she asked. “What are you going to do about the fleet of ships out there?”

  “We’ll uncover the truth. If they’re responsible we’ll be able to use ‘Stroiders’ against them. And meanwhile we’ll have the ice.”

  Jane released a long, slow breath. Things would not unfold the way Benavidez was fantasizing they would. But one thing was abundantly clear: it was over. No point in drawing it out. She let the machine read her retina, and input her personal code. Benavidez did likewise, and then transmitted the document to the administration’s personnel office.

  “Whom are you replacing me with?” she asked.

  “Aaron Nabors has agreed to step in temporarily.”

  “Aaron?” The revelation fell so hard on her that Jane’s vision blurred. Pull it together. Pull it together.

  “He’ll do well by you,” she managed to say. “You could do much worse than him as resource commiss
ioner.”

  Benavidez eyed her. “I’ll consider it.” He rubbed at his lower lip. “I’m assigning two agents to guard you. Public sentiment against you is growing. We don’t want any incidents. I advise you to keep a low profile.”

  They stared at each other over another long silence.

  “Will that be all?” she asked.

  “That will be all.”

  As she opened the door, he said, “You’ve done the right thing.”

  Jane made a derisive noise. “Read Blood on the Bulkheads. It’ll give you a taste of what you’ve let Phocaea in for.”

  Two cluster Enforcement agents came from nowhere and fell in behind her. She doubted the PM was concerned about her well-being. Who knew what paranoid fantasies he had cooked up? She could do plenty of damage if she wanted. Though she was certain her system access codes no longer worked. That was SOP with employees who were let go.

  The media were everywhere, in wavespace and in the flesh. Her software agent gave her word that the prime minister was doing a press conference. She gave the reporters who crowded around, flesh- and virtual-wise, a terse no comment, shut off her interface, and pushed through the mob. She headed back to her own sector, and fled to her office through the crooked halls and slant stalls with all her people in them. They fell silent and stared. Did everyone know?

  Once in her office she called Sean, and told the older man the news. He appeared stunned. Then angry. “It’s not right.”

  “It’s a done deal. You report to Aaron now.”

  He was silent for a long moment. Finally he said, “My people have several efforts going on—any last orders on how we should prioritize?”

  “That’s Aaron’s call.” She added, “If it were me, I’d carry on with what I was doing. Let Aaron get his balance. The shit’s really hitting the fan for him.

  “And I’d say report to him first thing in the morning tomorrow, if he hasn’t contacted you by then. Be prepared with a full briefing and recommended priorities.”

  “All right. And ma’am—” he said, as she started to disconnect. “It’s been a pleasure.”

  Jane frowned over the sudden lump in her throat. “Likewise.”

  Next she tried Tania, but there was no answer, so she left a message. Then she called Marty. When she told him, he yelled, “What? Are they insane?”

  She had no answer for that. She spent a second or two searching for words. “I don’t know what to tell you. Just … do your best for Aaron. He’s going to need you. OK?”

  “You got it,” Marty said. “The bastard.” She was unsure whether he meant Benavidez or Aaron.

  Jane said, “He’s just doing what he thinks is best for the cluster.” But Marty’s indignation was balm for her spirit. A long, awkward pause. “I’d better let you go,” she said. “Good luck.”

  “I’ll miss working with you, Chief. Maybe we could get together before you leave, and you could meet Ceci. She’s a big fan of yours.”

  That brought a smile to Jane’s face. “I’d like that.”

  Then she called Xuan. He was tied up in a meeting at the university. While she was leaving him a message, someone tapped on the door.

  “Enter,” she said. She finished the message and turned off her communications. Aaron latched the door behind him and bobbed there, twenty degrees askew. To the two agents by the door she said, “Gentlemen, please excuse us.”

  They glanced at Aaron, who nodded. Once they had gone, he said, “I tried to warn you.”

  “I know.” Jane started emptying the drawers of her desk. The contents tumbled out into the air.

  “They didn’t want me to say anything ahead of time. But I couldn’t—” He broke off with a little jerk of his head. “I had to try.”

  She was surprised at herself: less than a minute ago, she had been advising Sean and Marty to make things easy on Aaron, and now here she was, wanting to rip his face off. A harsh laugh escaped her. “Maybe next time you could try a little harder.”

  “I am so sorry—”

  “Don’t.” She said it sharply. Then she shook her head. “I know. You did try. I’m just,” she turned to him. “I’m too angry right now to be reasonable. I thought we were friends. You must have known last night. You could have called me.”

  He said nothing. She turned her back again. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine. It shouldn’t take me long to get things cleared out for you.”

  He drifted there silently, watching her for a moment. But she had nothing more to say. Finally he left. She stopped dragging things out of the drawers and just floated, staring blindly at the desk detritus settling slowly, at the hangings she’d pulled off the wall: pictures of family; holograms of No-Moss and their habitat as they had built it; two carvings Hugh had done; an art project Dominica had made as a teen; several education, award, and appreciation certificates.

  After a moment she realized that the two agents weren’t going to come back in. Aaron must have sent them away. A kind gesture. She should thank him for that. She turned on her interface. It wove itself around, through, and beyond all her meatspace, with its lists, notes, works-in-progress, schedules, resource- and project-tracking ribbons.

  They could shut her out of the area-wide systems, but they couldn’t shut her out of her own local waveware—not until they had her ear lozenge. And Benavidez had not had the presence of mind to confiscate it during their meeting. Just as well. She wanted to clean up before they got their hands on her personal files.

  Good-bye, she thought. Everything she had built. All the sacrifices. She had tried to make a difference. She had spent the last twelve years of her life wrangling, dealing, confronting, managing, worrying—swallowed by the needs of the cluster. She did not even know who she was anymore, outside this job.

  Public sentiment against you is growing. She gazed at the bad-sammies that flooded her sammy cache, a bleeding flood relieved only by a meager tinge of green, she felt heartsick. How could they all abandon her like this? Everything she had done, she had done for the citizens of Phocaea.

  Screw it, she thought, screw them all, and she brought up the trebling software to delete all her files, and Jonesy, too. Trebling was a military-standard file-deletion process that destroyed any trace of the original data. Her fingers hovered over the activation key. Dozens of years of knowledge and experience. Decision-making tools she had built. A Knox of intellectual treasures she had collected and constructed. Not having access to these would make Aaron’s work a lot more difficult. And of course, he would also catch hell for sending the agents away and allowing her this opportunity.

  Let him create his own schedules and assessments. Let him start from scratch, the way I did, she thought. Why should he benefit from all my hard work?

  Her enemies had won. She was taking the fall for something the mob and a freak-of-nature sapient had done. She had spent years making sure the people of Phocaea got the resources they needed, and what did she end up with? A cushy bribe and a boot out the door.

  In the end she left the files alone. She packed up the hangings and knickknacks, shut down, compressed, and downloaded Jonesy, then backed up and then trebled her personal files. She left instructions for Marty on everything else. Let them sort out the rest. She towed her boxes out and gave them a shove toward the main entrance.

  Behind her, the door snicked shut: a smirking whisper of a sound. Good-bye.

  21

  That morning the circuit trolleys were still down so Xuan, Charles, and Rowan had to rely on their own hands and feet to propel themselves down the avenue to their offices at the university.

  The extent of damage out here on the Rim level was shocking. Debris and rubble were strewn over everything. Teams of surveyors were out with their theodolites, transits, and compasses. Bug veins and meshes had already grown up out of grates in the flooring and begun their work of mending cracks in the bulkheads and breaking down the old and broken infrastructure. The air that morning smelled of solvent, copper, and new plastic. Xuan also saw th
e odd miniature glass-bead skeleton running around here and there. Not many people were on campus.

  He parted ways with Charles and Rowan at the geology center and lofted himself down the tunnel to his office. After assigning his grad students—the two who had shown up—to Kukuyoshi repairs, he headed to an emergency meeting with the deans, department heads, and key administrators to finish fleshing out their plan for rescuing as much as they could from Kukuyoshi. Charles ran the meeting. In moments, though, someone broke in to tell them about the prime minister’s press conference. They broke off their discussion and displayed the press conference in the wavespace they shared. Benavidez came on and announced that Phocaea had reached agreement with Ogilvie & Sons, Inc. on a new ice delivery.

  “The ice shipment will arrive two weeks from this coming Wednesday,” the PM said. Cheers broke out around Xuan. “In an abundance of caution, rationing will remain in place until then. But I rejoice with my fellow Phocaeans that help is on the way. In the meantime, I ask everyone to remain calm and go about their daily business.”

  “On a separate note, Commissioner Navio has tendered her resignation. I have accepted it. I want to thank her for her efforts on behalf of the citizens of Phocaea, and to wish her well. Aaron Nabors, deputy commissioner in charge of power and assemblyworks, will be stepping in as acting commissioner until a permanent replacement is found.”

  Leaden dismay settled in Xuan’s chest. Charles and Rowan shot him sympathetic glances, but the general mood in the meeting was cheerful. Someone broke out a bottle of Downsider whiskey, and they passed around disposable drink bulbs with a splash of the pungent, expensive liquor. Someone proposed a toast to the PM.

  He forwent the toast, but swirled the liquid in the cup, and tossed the amber drink down. It stung his nostrils and warmed his throat and stomach.

  “I suppose we can junk these,” Charles said, gesturing at the set of plans floating before them in wavespace. It described how they would rescue and store Kukuyoshi’s denizens until the arboretum could be brought back.

 

‹ Prev