Rebel (The United Federation Marine Corps)

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  “We should get a Federation lawyer for that, don’t you think?” Michi had asked innocently. “The FCDC would probably be willing to supply one.”

  Michi had known that David would want his own team writing up an agreement if they got that far. But it would be hard to argue against a Federation lawyer being brought in. She waited for his response. Getting an outside lawyer was probably vital to her survival.

  She hadn’t had to wait long. With barely a pause, David agreed, with a smile on his face that Michi had to admire as looking natural. David had made a call to the FCDC chief of operations, and a legal team was dispatched. While they waited, and with David’s permission, she had called Cheri, outlined the situation, and asked that she and Su come over. To her credit, Cheri hadn’t demanded a full explanation but quickly agreed.

  Forty-five minutes later, the nitty-gritty had begun. David and Michi had recorded their conversation, outlining the agreement. Michi had thought that pretty clear. But with the company lawyers, Su, two other lawyers Cheri had brought along, and the city attorney there, it had been amazing how so many people could have so many different opinions on what had just been said on the recording. The FCDC lawyer, as chief facilitator, had to make several decisions when the rest of the squabbling lawyers could not come to an agreement.

  One key factor, at least for Michi, Doug, and Tamara’s safety, was the civil penalty should anything happen to them—and that meant anything. The company lawyers and representatives had screamed that they could not be penalized if Michi had a massive coronary, for example. But as “massive coronaries” could be easily induced by people wishing her harm, Michi was not going to back down.

  “You are just going to have to hope that doesn’t happen!” she had shouted. “Maybe you should put me on you health maintenance plan!”

  It took David stepping in and telling his staff that he accepted the condition before they had been able to move forward.

  The civil penalties had been a key to the entire agreement. The law could sometimes be bent, as the company had shown over the years. But a contract was a contract, and if there were a monetary penalty to be assessed if a specified event happened, then the contract would be honored. Huge corporation or individual, the Federation would not take sides.

  With that paragraph in place, if anything happened to Doug, Tamara, or Michi once the contract was signed, the company would be hit with huge payments. That was the best Michi could do to protect the three of them.

  At 4:10 in the morning, which was amazingly quick for the scope of the agreement, representatives of the union, the mayor, the senior NIP member in jail, and representatives of several other protest and civil groups, had been called in. The Federation administrator had earlier caught a shuttle from Dundee, and had already arrived, so the Federation was represented as well.

  David and Michi had stood together as the contract was read out loud. Everyone present had a copy on their PAs, but the reading was a tradition. After it was finished, Michi had stepped forward.

  She had looked down at the paper copy. It hadn’t seemed like much. What had happened to her dreams of throwing the company, throwing the Federation off of Kakurega, of full independence? Had she sold out? All this really required was that Propitious Interstellar abide by the existing charter. Everything else was window dressing.

  Well, it’s the best that I can do, she thought as she signed her name and looked into the retinal scanning beam.

  David hadn’t hesitated but signed as well. Then the long string of ancillary signatories came forward. With David and Michi’s signatures, the contract was in effect. However, as others outside of the company were affected, they had to sign as well to bind their organizations to the terms. The union vice-chairman had balked, saying he wanted to bring the agreement back and study it, but after a quick conference with several other people there, he changed his mind and signed.

  Michi and David had shaken hands for the camcorders, and it so it was finished, despite the huge odds against the three friends. Fu Sing, and even Ellison had been crushed, but somehow, they had averted that fate and gained some benefit, if not outright won.

  Michi asked for a PA, and connecting to Doug’s disposable PA, and after only a slight hesitation, she had given the code words to stand down the worm.

  “Our Blue-99 is safe now?” David had asked, trying to sound calm even if Michi could hear the stressors in his voice.

  “Safe and sound,” she had assured him.

  Michi had been rushed to a backdrop that had been erected, and with David, the mayor, and the Federation administrator standing behind her, had recorded her pleas for the protests to stop and for people to get on with their lives. She never used the word “won,” but she assured people that the company had seen the righteousness of their concerns and had agreed to address them.

  As soon as she was done and the recording stopped, David had actually shaken her hand.

  “I can’t say I’m happy that this happened, but it is what it is,” he had said.

  “Arinomamade,” Michi said quietly.

  “Yes, arinomamade,” he had said, surprising Michi that he knew what the word meant. “But now we have to move forward. If I want to meet with you, I trust you would be willing?”

  For maybe the first time during the night, Michi had been surprised. He wanted to work with her? He was the CEO of Propitious Interstellar, and she had just hurt them. She was his enemy, right? And now, he might want to work together?

  What game is he playing now? she had wondered.

  She had cautiously agreed to meet if needed. He had thanked her and told her he had a car for her to take her to where she wanted. Once again, she had hesitated, unsure if she could trust him. But the contract had been signed. She had agreed and was whisked to the condo.

  She wasn’t sure how she was going to tell Doug. She wanted to delay the inevitable, so she took the stairs instead of the elevator. She started to, at least. The emotional toll of the last day and night had affected her body, too. Michi had to stop on the fifth floor and take the elevator the rest of the way up.

  She hadn’t opened the door yet when Doug burst out and grabbed her in a bear hug. She clung to him, mindless of his excitement.

  “We did it, Michi! I never actually thought we would win, but this is brills! I’m, I’m, I don’t know what I am, but it’s pretty freaking great!” he shouted, pulling her around in a circle.

  She just clung to him, her tears falling unnoticed onto his shoulder.

  “Tammy’s going to be ready to party!” he said, drawing out the “paaarteee!”

  “Doug, listen to me!”

  “Michi-baby, I’ll listen to anything you’ve got. Give me all the details! Was del Solar crushed?”

  She grabbed Doug and pushed him back to arms’ length. He noted something in her eyes, and he stopped hopping up and down.

  “Tamara’s not coming,” she said somberly.

  “What do you mean? She’d going to be late?” he asked uncertainly.

  “She’s dead, Doug! She was killed by the jacks trying to get away after infecting the system.”

  Doug, with a look of shock on his face, slowly dropped to sit on the floor. “No,” was all he said.

  Just before Michi left the 5oth floor of One Propitious Interstellar, Virag Chopra had approached her, saying, “Sorry about your friend, Miss Veal,” his expression indicating anything other than sorrow.

  “Sorry for what?” she’d asked, a feeling of dread coming over her.

  “Oh, you hadn’t heard? Maybe I’d better wait . . .”

  She had grabbed him by the collar and yanked him forward until their faces were centimeters apart.

  “If you know something, tell me now,” she had hissed.

  “Certainly, Miss MacCailín, if you insist. It seems as if your friend was caught inserting something into the organics control system. She tried to run, and, unfortunately, the company security shot and killed her,” he had said, a smile on his face.<
br />
  Michi had let go of him in shock. They had won and the company lost! How had anything happened to Tamara! As it begun to register, she had let out primal scream and run back to the conference room.

  “You killed her!” she had shouted as she rushed David.

  Two office jacks stepped up and stopped her. She struggled to reach the CEO, but the two men, without hurting her, simply held her back.

  “Tamara Veal is dead, and that bastard killed her! I want Propitious Interstellar crushed! I want them to pay their penalty!” she yelled at the FCDC lawyer who was still there but gathering up his belongings.

  “And when did his happen, Miss?” he asked.

  “At her lab. When she infected the system. They just shot her down!”

  “So this was not within the last 45 minutes?” he asked without much emotion.

  “I told you, it was yesterday afternoon!” Michi told him.

  “Then, I’m afraid that Propitious Interstellar was not covered by the contract at the time, so there is nothing they are required to do. If you believe the company is liable for her death above and beyond this contract, I suggest you contact the city attorney,” he said, picking up his briefcase and walking past her to leave.

  “You knew,” she accused David. “You knew the entire time we were negotiating.”

  “We had guessed, but until you gave me her name, no, we weren’t sure. I doubt that you are going to believe me, but I am sorry about Miss Veal. I couldn’t bring that up, though, while we were trying to come to a solution. I was afraid you would blow up and order your friend to destroy the rest of the strain.”

  Michi had glared at the man, vowing revenge. But it wasn’t going to happen then and there. With an utmost display of control, she had pulled herself together and without a word, turned and left the building and into the waiting hover.

  Now, with Doug sitting in front of her, she sank to the floor as well. Both friends reached for each other as the tears broke loose, and all the stress of the last few days and the grief of their loss took over.

  Her PA started ringing, but she ignored it. She had lost her fiancé, she had lost her best friend, and at the moment, she thought that cost was too high. Michi had given her all, and that was too much.

  The people of Kakurega—all of them, not just the employees of the company—had won. Things would be better. But to those left behind, to those who had lost loved ones in the attack, to those who had lost property, to the family of Gerile Fountainhead, that innocent jack she had killed in that dark alley, was it all worth it?

  Michi just didn’t know.

  Epilogue

  Three years later . . .

  “Congratualtions, Madame Mayor,” Doug said, handing her another glass of champagne.

  “Not yet, Doug. I won’t be sworn in for another month, but yeah, baby, this is some night, huh? And without you managing my campaign, it never would have happened, so thanks!” she said, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

  “It wasn’t hard, Michi. You’ve still got your hero status going strong, and with Lowery putting his foot up his ass so many times, it was pretty easy.”

  “Still, candidates just don’t get elected on corporate worlds when the company is against them,” she reminded him. “Hey, enough of shop talk. We’ve had enough of that for the last six months. Missy is over there at the punch bowl waiting for you. Go give your wife a kiss and take her home. Give Tammy a kiss for me, too.”

  Doug looked over to his wife who blew him a kiss. “You know, she would have been proud of you today.”

  “Yes, I think she would have, despite her lack of respect for authority,” she agreed, knowing he was speaking of their Tamara, not the daughter he named after her.

  He stood there with her a moment, a sphere of silence amidst the cacophony of her campaign headquarters’ celebration.

  “Arinomamade,” he said quietly, the word having become their private motto, something that bound them together.

  “Arinomamade, Doug. Now get out of here. I don’t want to see you until Friday at the earliest. Go be with your family.

  Doug turned to give her a hug and kiss on the cheek. He wandered over to his wife and bent her over backwards, giving her a much different sort of kiss, one that promised much more as soon as they got home. Michi had to laugh. Her Dougie had changed so much from the geeky guy who Cheri had sent over back before this journey began. It may not have been so long on the calendar, but it was a lifetime ago.

  Her PA buzzed, and Michi looked down at it curiously. Not many people had the connect code, and all of them had already called to congratulate her. She didn’t recognize the code and was about to cut the connection, but curiosity overcame her. She slipped the bud in her ear and hit the connect.

  “Madame Mayor-elect, I just wanted to offer you my congratulations,” the voice said, the screen blank.

  Without a camvid, she had to place the voice, and it took a few moments. “David del Solar?” she asked.

  “The one and only,” the Propitious Interstellar CEO said with a laugh.

  “I didn’t expect your call,” Michi said with all candor.

  Michi and David had met several times over the ensuing years, both in his office and at the anniversaries of the signing of the “People’s Compact,” as the contract had been named.

  The company had twisted and turned the creation of the contract into something so far from the truth that it was awe-inspiring. The contract itself was still inviolate, but the company PR division had created a version of what happened that beggared belief. According to the new version of history, the company had instigated the reforms once their workers’ unhappiness had been brought to their attention. It had been the company that had fought to get the Marines off their planet, and once that was done, they had addressed making life better for everyone, employee or not. On each anniversary of the signing, there was a memorial service for those fallen (and those numbers had been adjusted quite a bit downwards) and the names of all Class Fours who had paid off their indenture that year were posted. The company sponsored parties that were well-attended.

  Michi had put aside her vow for revenge for Tamara. David hadn’t had a direct hand in it. All he had done was withhold that information during the negotiations, and that probably had been smart. Michi didn’t know herself what she might have done if she had found out while Doug could still destroy the remaining Blue-99.

  Still, even if they weren’t exactly enemies, she had just defeated the company-sponsored candidate.

  “I didn’t want to intrude on your celebrations, but I thought a call would be appropriate.”

  “A conciliatory call? I didn’t know that was in you, David.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t call this conciliatory,” he said.

  “Uh, David, have you been watching the newsfeeds? I just kicked your candidate’s ass.”

  “I’m very aware of that. And I congratulate you, even if we may not have put up the best candidate.”

  “Oh, shite, David. Don’t feed me that. You contributed to his campaign. You endorsed him. What about all your dirty tricks?”

  “Michi, you’re a smart woman. Do you really think we would put up a pompous ass like Lowery if we wanted him to win. If I wanted him to win?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Put it together. I couldn’t very well put the company’s support behind the woman who brought the company to its knees. So if I could put up someone unelectable, what would that do? I could show that I tried to get someone else elected. All the dirty tricks were not very effective, were they? No, because you could address each one, and no matter what else, the Federation would make sure the actual votes made would be reflected. There’s no tampering with the ballots allowed.”

  “Nice story. But why should I believe this fairy tale?” she asked, not buying it.

  “Because Lowery was so bad. Because we leaked the story about his past psychological treatments. And most of all because I wanted you to be may
or.”

  “One again, why?”

  “Since you force us into the contract, our business was never been better. You’ve seen our stocks. We’re up almost 180% since then. Our “good for the people” persona is working. That caught me by surprise, I’ll admit, but the numbers are there. With increased sales and better worker relations, we’re on a role. And with you as mayor of Tay Station, I think we can work together.”

  “I’m only going to be the mayor. I won’t hold sway anywhere else.”

  “What about governor?” he asked.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Let me be sworn in, first. Besides, I don’t work for you.”

  “I didn’t say work ‘for’ me. I said ‘with’ me.”

  “OK, let me rephrase that. I did not get elected to makes things easier for the company. I will not do its bidding,” she told him.

  “Will you work for what is good for the city?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Then that’s all I can ask for. And if what’s good for the city is good for the company, then we all win. Look, I didn’t plan on getting into it now. I was going to invite you to the board dining room for a dinner next week. I’m still going to do that so you can meet my team, but until then, just think about it, OK?”

  “I’ll think about anything that will help me do my job.”

  “That’s all I can ask for. It’s a new galaxy, and I hope we can figure out how to make it work. Take care, and one again, congratulations.”

  He cut off his side, and Michi stared at the blank PA.

  That was one weird call, she thought.

  She looked up at the room, where the die-hard revelers were still partying. They had worked hard for her. Well maybe not so much for her as for what Michi stood for: a new beginning. She was not corporate. She was an outsider.

  Michi was also smart enough to know that if the company fought her, she would be stymied in whatever she tried to accomplish. Maybe getting in bed with the devil would allow her to do some good. She’d done some pretty nasty things in the past for that elusive “greater good,” so why not consider David’s offer?