“Hold up,” I said. “This is your show. You’re the one who dragged me up here. You can’t kick me out in front of Parliament and expect me to make a speech.”
“It doesn’t have to be anything fancy,” Tobias said. “Honestly, just being here and letting them see you is more important than whatever you decide to say. This is about reminding them that you’re human – that Matt was as well. They need to put a human face on you. Keep it brief and make them sympathise with you.”
“But what do I talk about?” I said.
Tobias shrugged. “What’s happened to you. How you went to the Endeavour. The fact that it was a shock for you as well. Steer clear of condemning what happened with Ira Cole; they already know how we feel. Don’t write anything down; just think about what you might want to say.”
Some help he was. I went back to my room and tried to think about it, but the heat was starting to get to me and I decided to go swimming. Lieutenant Flanagan warned me off trying to go down to the beach – we weren’t supposed to leave the hotel, he said – but the pool was in perfect working order.
It felt good to swim again. Just doing laps, breaststroke up and down, back and forth. I hadn’t been swimming since... God, when was it? Eucla, probably. The Regina Maersk, struggling back up to the surface after Angus kicked me into the water the day the Mundrabillans accidentally blew themselves up. Not exactly leisure swimming.
I’d been out there for about half an hour when Jess came out and sat by the deep end with her legs in the water. I was in my underwear, but she was wearing a red bikini. “Don’t tell me you brought that all the way from New England,” I said.
“Someone left it in my room,” she said. “It’s so humid here. It’s weird.”
“I don’t like it,” I agreed. “I don’t know why they decided to evacuate out here. Alice Springs would have been a better idea.”
There was an awkward lull in conversation. I like Jess, but speaking to her is strange, because she acts so comfortable, as though she already knows me. And I suspect that’s because she subconsciously just sees me as Matt, but that doesn’t make much sense either, because as far as I know Matt and Rahvi killed her entire family, even if it wasn’t really their fault.
I went back to swimming laps. Jess sat at the edge of the pool and watched me. A little while later, as I was catching my breath, she said, “Are you nervous?”
“About what?”
“Talking to the government tomorrow.”
“A little,” I said. “You don’t have to, do you?”
“No. The captain just wants me to talk to some of the other military officers. About what things were like in New England.”
“I’m not really nervous, I don’t think,” I said. “I mean, it’s just... I don’t know. I don’t know what we’re doing here. I definitely don’t know what I’m doing here. It’s too complicated.”
It was more than that, but I didn’t want to say it. It was the armed guards surrounding the hotel. It was the fact that my arrival had been televised. It was the nervous, carefully-spoken new Defence Minister, trying to distance himself from his predecessor. Something about the place felt off and made me wary.
After swimming I showered the chlorine off and went up to the room to get dressed. Presently there was a knock at the door – Lieutenant Flanagan. “You’ve got a visitor.”
“Who?”
“The Governor-General.”
“Oh,” I said.
Tobias wasn’t back from his meeting yet. Either he was late or the Governor-General was early. I followed Flanagan downstairs, past the empty restaurant, through the hotel’s bar and into a private sitting room. The windows were open, a breeze coming through, an old wooden ceiling fan circling overhead. Outside, past the swimming pool, I could make out more soldiers standing guard than usual.
Sitting in one of the room’s armchairs was the Governor-General. He was a grandfatherly sort of man, probably in his seventies but still looking robust, with a fairly impressive white beard. He was wearing a plain black suit and a walking stick was leaning on the bookshelf next to him. Flanagan saluted, and then left the room, closing the door behind him.
“Aaron King,” the Governor-General said, sticking out his hand. I shook it. “Forgive me for not standing. You’ll understand at my age.”
“If I get there,” I said.
He frowned. “Hmm. Yes. Please, take a seat.”
I sat down into the armchair opposite him, feeling uneasy, trying to get the measure of the man. Tobias said he trusted him, and I trust Tobias, so there’s that. He had a few medals pinned to his left breast – he was former Army, possibly former chief of the ADF, from what I vaguely remembered. Not unusual for the role. Never any ex-politicians, just former military officers, bishops, judges. The Queen’s representative in Australia: a mostly ceremonial post, appointed by the prime minister and generally unknown to the public at large, despite still holding certain key powers. And now here we were, in a time of crisis, as we teetered on the brink of military rule, and the man who happened to be in the office was also former Army brass. Someone who knew all the right people. Was that the only reason Tobias trusted him? Because he was ex-military?
“I was sorry to hear about your brother,” the Governor-General said. “I heard he was a good man.”
“He was...” I hesitated. “He was a good man, yes.”
“I’m sorry about your father, as well,” he said.
I stared at him. “What do you know about my father?” I said. With Matt gone, the only people in the world who know what happened to Dad are me, Ellie and Geoff. And the Endeavour, I guess. Unless someone had been blabbing.
“He was conscripted into the Army Reserve by the state government, down in Albany, in February,” the Governor-General said. “Along with about everybody else they had to hand. Michael King, yes?”
“But how do you know that?” I pressed.
“It’s in your file,” he said. “I presume he didn’t make it out, the night Albany fell?”
“No,” I said. “He didn’t.”
It’s not like I think I’m going to get done for murder or anything. We’re beyond all of that, and it was a genuine accident, on a night when people in military fatigues had already tried to kill us. It’s just that it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me and I don’t want anybody else to know about it and I don’t want to think about it more than I already do (every day) and I don’t want anybody else to bring it up. And now I was sitting here in an armchair across from this man and my stomach was churning and I felt angry.
“I’m sorry you lost them,” the Governor-General said. “I really am.”
It’s happened to everybody,” I said. “You don’t have to be sorry about it.”
“Well, I am,” he said. “And I’m sorry about everything the Prime Minister did – the former Prime Minister, I should say – and I’m sorry I wasn’t keeping a closer eye on things. But I want to promise you that it won’t happen again.”
I looked up at him again. Lovelock, the new defence minister, had struck me immediately as a spineless man who was making excuses; the Governor-General’s sentiment, on the other hand, seemed genuine. Yet they were the same empty words.
“I know it won’t happen again,” I said. “They don’t have the capability to do that again. We – I mean we, in Jagungal – won’t let it happen again. I don’t need your promises about that. What I want the people responsible for it punished.”
“And they will be,” he said. “But part of the problem is finding out exactly who it was. We arrested six people – the Prime Minister, the Deputy Prime Minister, the Treasurer, the Attorney-General, the Defence Minister, and the Prime Minister’s chief of staff. We aren’t totally confident that all of them were involved; the chief of staff in particular has been protesting his innocence. We know without a doubt that the Prime Minister was, and I’m confident enough about the others. But more importantly – we don’t know for sure that they were the only people involved. D
o you understand?”
I thought of Lovelock. “Not really,” I said. “So all those posts...”
“They’ve been replaced by other members of the coalition,” the Governor-General said. “The Liberals and the Nationals. As they would be during peacetime if that many cabinet members were suddenly arrested. That kind of thing would almost certainly trigger a double dissolution, actually, but we can’t exactly hold a new election at the moment.”
“OK, this is what I don’t understand,” I said. “I mean – look, sure, it’s been different for you guys, but when I was sitting out on the Nullarbor six months ago we honestly thought most of the human race was extinct and the government was gone. And now I come up here and... I mean, how many members of parliament are there, even?”
“There are supposed to be 226,” he said. “150 MPs and 76 senators. About three quarters made it out of Canberra alive, but we lost more in Darwin before the final evacuation here. We now have 78 MPs and 34 senators left. Most of them were in the Liberal Party, since they were in government, and they received evacuation priority. Labor has about 30 of that number – there’s been some defections, some who believe the party system is defunct, I won’t bore you with the details. But they don’t have the numbers to form an effective opposition, let alone a government. So Australia is now effectively a one-party state, and I hope you can understand, Aaron, why I would be reluctant to dissolve Parliament when there is no prospect of holding fresh elections.”
I didn’t say anything. Out the window, across the water, I could hear a distant helicopter coming in to land on the back of a Navy frigate.
“Officially speaking, I was appointed by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II,” the Governor-General went on. “In practice, she simply signed off on a decision made by the Prime Minister we happened to have during the revolving door period about five years ago – you’d be too young to remember that, I suppose. But both Queen Elizabeth and the Prime Minister who appointed me are now deceased, as far as we know. I am Australia’s head of state, and – although not many people know this – officially the commander-in-chief of the Australian Defence Force. It is entirely within my power, under the circumstances, to dissolve Parliament. It would be entirely constitutional and entirely justified.
“But I don’t want to do that, Aaron. I don’t want to be a dictator. I don’t want what’s left of this country to lose what’s left of its democratic government. And if this plan of ours is successful – if we all manage to work together all over the world, if we in Australia manage to hold up our end of the plan and destroy the base in Ballarat – we need to start thinking about what kind of a world we’re going to make for the future. Whether we’re going to slide back into barbarism, or try to maintain the institutions that people have fought so hard for. People like your father and your brother.”
My father: an unwilling conscript by the short-lived remnants of a state government. My brother: a bloodthirsty adrenaline junkie who’d fight anyone for any excuse. I stood up and walked over to one of the windows, standing with my hands on the sill and looking out across the garden at the sparkling sea. A flock of parrots was screeching and chattering through the fig trees along the beach.
“You don’t understand,” I said, turning back to the Governor-General. I was beginning to realise, now, why Tobias had brought Jess along – somebody with first-hand experience of Draeger’s private kingdom. “You think you can maintain control of this country but you can’t. Everybody everywhere is just... there’s no law any more, except what people decide to make it. Do you realise that? You can say that you’re the Governor-General of Australia but you’re not, not any more. You’re the Governor-General of Christmas Island. The rest of the country is under the control of a thousand little chieftans. There is no Australia anymore.”
The Governor-General shook his head. “How did you get here, Aaron? You came from Jagungal, which if it’s ‘ruled’ by anyone is ruled by Captain Tobias, who takes his orders from General McLeod. You took a helicopter to RAAF Base Wagga – again, a little slice of loyal Australia – and transferred at Carnarvon Airport. I can name you hundreds of other places across the country – not just Army and Air Force bases, but little civilian strongholds, who have a radio link to Christmas Island and speak to us every day – places which still consider us a legitimate government. As long as that government holds, Aaron. If I dissolve Parliament, it will be perceived as a military coup. There are many people on this island who want me to do that, and who, indeed, pressure me every day to make that decision. But if I do, we’ll be crossing the Rubicon. Something we had will be gone forever.”
I threw my hands up in the air. “Look, I get it. I understand. Really, I do. If we make it out the other side of this nightmare we want to be in the best position to rebuild. But these people tried to kill us! They pretended they were on our side and they sent men in the night who killed sleeping people, and women and children, and God knows what they had in mind for me and Matt. And you think there are still people in Parliament, maybe even in government, who were involved. How can you expect me to be okay with that?”
“I don’t,” the Governor-General said. “I just want you to live with it.”
“Fine,” I said. “Fine. Whatever. So I go in there tomorrow and talk to them all and hope they have a change of heart and decide we’re not a threat?”
“That’s part of it,” he said. “The other part is gentle reminders from Captain Tobias and General McLeod and myself that they really hold no power any more. They retain their positions because we allow them to. And little by little we have a harmonious, working government again.”
I sat down, suddenly feeling very tired. I remembered a time, not so long ago, when my worries had involved finding enough food for the day or clearing out a house that might be zombie-infested. This was beyond my ability to deal with.
“Also,” the Governor-General said, “I’d like you to meet with the former prime minister.”
I stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“Not tomorrow,” he said. “Maybe the day after.”
“Why?”
“Because, while he is under house arrest, while he is awaiting trial, I can’t guarantee that he is totally insulated from the political system,” the Governor-General said. “Which means that if we really did miss many members of his inner circle, he may still be running the show from the inside. He will obviously not be at the joint sitting tomorrow. I need him to meet you, to see your face, the same way Parliament does. He may still be the most important player.”
“Just hang the fucking bastard already,” I said.
“Language, young man,” the Governor-General said, and I rolled my eyes. “Just meet with him. You’ll be in no danger, I assure you. Captain Tobias will accompany you. I don’t ask that you forgive him. Just... talk to him.”
“I can think of a few choice words.”
“I’m sure you can, but I suggest you bite your tongue.” The Governor-General was standing, now, reaching for his walking stick. “I had a grandson your age, you know,” he said. “Very hot-headed. Always thought he knew best. You remind me of him.”
“What happened to him?”
“I don’t know,” he said, and paused at the doorway, lost in thought. “He was with his parents – my daughter and son-in-law – in January, when all of this started happening. I don’t know what happened to them.”
“Maybe they made it out,” I said, without any conviction in my words. It’s something I’ve had to say to too many people for it to mean anything anymore.
“Maybe,” he said. “I’ll see you again soon, Aaron.”
And that was that. For now. Tobias returned from his meeting with the Defence chiefs a little later in the afternoon, looking tired. He found me sitting in an old plastic chair, up on the hotel’s second floor balcony, looking out over the ocean, thinking and worrying. I told him what the Governor-General had said, particularly about other people on the island not minding if there
was a military coup, and he was quiet. “He was Army, right?” I said.
“Yes,” Tobias said. “Career soldier, like me. Chief of the Defence Force by the time he left – what General McLeod is now.”
“So the ex-military man is the one pushing against military rule?” I said.
“Funny, that,” Tobias said. “You’d almost think we were real people with our own opinions and stuff.”
I sighed. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, but this shit is doing my head in. What do you think about it all?”
“I think the days of parliamentary democracy are numbered anyway,” Tobias said. “But he’s my commander-in-chief, and if he doesn’t want to dissolve Parliament, then I’ll accept that as the best decision.”
“And you and General McLeod,” I said. “You’re pretty chummy. What’s going on there?”
Tobias shifted uncomfortably. “He was a good friend of my dad’s. They were in Vietnam together. I’ve known him my whole life.”
“Jesus,” I said. “I’m seeing a bit of a pattern developing.”
“It’s not my fault,” Tobias said. “I can’t help who I know. I come from a very old military family. My great-grandfather served under Monash, you know.”
“No, I don’t,” I said. “I don’t know who that is.”
“Yeah, well, I guess that’s the public schools these days,” Tobias said. “He was the top Australian general on the Western Front in World War I. My great-grandfather was one of his adjutants.”
“That’s nice,” I said. “My great-grandfather spent World War I in prison in Dublin for being in the IRA.”
“Well,” Tobias said. “Such is life.”
“And that’s a Ned Kelly quote,” I said. “Another Irishman who died fighting to free oppressed people from the British jackboot.”
“Ned Kelly was a thief and a murderer who deserved what he got,” Tobias said.
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what they teach you up in Sydney,” I grinned. I’d felt stressed talking to the Governor-General, because I didn’t know him; couldn’t measure him. I used to feel intimidated by Tobias, but I feel comfortable around him now, after everything we’ve gone through. In fact, out here on Christmas Island – away from Simon and Jonas – he’s the person I trust the most, the person I’ve been alongside longer than anybody else.
End Times Box Set [Books 1-6] Page 174