Ephialtes (Ephialtes Trilogy Book 1)

by Parker, Gavin E

Venkdt looked into the camera on his terminal. “That’s all there is to it, folks. Make sure your vote counts! Enjoy the day!” He felt sheepish at his clumsy remarks and quickly cut his stream. He sat back in his chair and looked at the stream playing on the wall. Within minutes he was restreamed on the show. The stream had been jazzed up a little - it froze on Venkdt’s face while one of the commentators explained who he was and later it crashed-zoomed into Venkdt’s finger pressing ‘yes’. The anchors tried to joke that Venkdt’s vote was shocking and unexpected. It wasn’t particularly funny.

  Venkdt ate lunch alone.

  Christina arrived midafternoon. She had brought some work with her and she set herself up on the small conference table to the left of Venkdt’s desk. They exchanged a few words, Christina turning down the offer of food. She had eaten before she left. “How does it seem to be going?” she said, nodding toward the screen.

  “Good,” said Venkdt. “The ‘yes’ vote is incredibly strong, we don’t have any worries there. It all comes down to turnout.”

  “We’ve always known that, haven’t we?” Christina said, adding absentmindedly, “Why is it called ‘turnout’?”

  Venkdt looked up from his screen. “In days of old - even now, I think, some places in the non-aligned countries where they’re dirt poor - people would have to physically come to designated polling stations to cast a physical ballot. So people would have to - literally - ‘turn out’ to make their vote.”

  “Oh,” said Christina. “You’ll get the turnout, won’t you? I mean, now that it’s a simple matter of tapping into your comdev?”

  “I hope so,” said Venkdt, “but I wouldn’t take anything for granted. I guess we’ve done all we can now. Now it’s up to them.” He gestured everywhere and nowhere.

  By early evening News Muncher was showing their calculation for the percentage of voters voting ‘yes’ as eight-seven percent. It had varied throughout the day, but not by much. Venkdt and Christina shared a light evening meal around 19:00. Shortly after that Kostovich arrived. He had spent the day reworking USAN weapon designs. He now felt he had a good portfolio of well-designed and relatively easy to produce weapons and ancillary equipment with which to furnish a nascent army.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it earlier,” he said chirpily as he arrived. “I’ve been working on some very interesting stuff that I hope will come in useful later, if this thing goes the way we hope it does. Hello Christina.”

  Christina looked up from the papers scattered in front of her and made a thin smile. “Hi, Dan,” she said, and went back to her work.

  “You did a great job of organising all this. Tip-top, really,” said Kostovich.

  “It was pretty straight forward. Thanks for the voting system.”

  “Oh, it’s standard stuff. It has to be. It’s all open source code so everyone can see we’re not fixing anything. I made some very minor changes. Trivial, really.”

  “Thanks anyway.” Christina was engrossed in her work, or at least hiding in it.

  Kostovich pulled a chair up to Venkdt’s desk. “How’re we doing?” he said.

  “The vote is great, but it’s the numbers we need. And we won’t know them until it’s over.”

  “Yes,” said Kostovich, “about that.”

  “Yes?” said Venkdt cautiously.

  “Well,” said Kostovich, “you know all the information pertaining to the vote - votes cast, ‘yeses’, ‘noes’ etcetera - is strictly confidential until the vote is in?”

  Christina perked up and she cut into the conversation. “Dan, please don’t say what I think you’re about to. You know I’m a lawyer. I can’t get involved in anything untoward.”

  Kostovich cut back in himself. “Christina, I wouldn’t suggest doing anything illegal. Of course not. But as the technical overseer I have to check that the system is working correctly. And provided no privileged information is allowed to influence any voting behaviour subsequent to it I may review that information as part of my duty to maintain that system.”

  “I think this is very dodgy,” said Christina.

  “Is it dodgy?” said Venkdt.

  “I looked into this very carefully,” said Kostovich. “I wouldn’t want to jeopardise an entire election, and of course I wouldn’t want to break the law. The articles of the election are very clear; I may have access to current voting information so long as I need that information to ensure the system is working correctly.”

  “Do you need it for that?” said Venkdt.

  “Well, if I don’t know what information is going in it, how do I know if it’s the right information? Or if it’s working properly at all? Look, I know it’s all okay; this system has been around for years, it’s as good as foolproof. But there’s no harm in checking, right?”

  Christina’s brow was furrowed. “Do you know what you’re doing? Really? You could screw this whole thing up.”

  “I checked the articles again and again. You must have a copy, check them yourself. As long as the information is not misused - as long as the information doesn’t leave this room - I, as the returning software systems officer, am entitled to take a peek.”

  “I don’t know,” said Venkdt.

  “Dad,” said Christina, “as a lawyer I would strongly advise you against this. It might be kosher but if there’s even a slight risk I would leave it well alone. What’s to be gained, anyway? We’ll know the result in a few hours.”

  Kostovich pulled out his comdev. “I know what I’m entitled to do. If you don’t want to be involved, that’s fine. I’m doing this by my own volition. It has nothing do with you.” He started tapping.

  “You dumb bastard. If we’re in the room with you then of course it’s to do with us. Put that thing away,” said Venkdt.

  “Oh!” said Kostovich. “Now that really is interesting.”

  “Put it away,” said Christina.

  “What’s interesting?” said Venkdt.

  “The turnout figures. Not what I expected.”

  “You could screw this up for all of us. Put that damned thing away!” said Christina.

  “What are they?” said Venkdt.

  “Well,” started Kostovich.

  “Fer Christsakes! Put ’em up on the damned wall!” shouted Venkdt.

  Kostovich looked up at him tensely. He pressed and swiped the screen a few times and a bare console was overlaid on the election stream on the wall. There were two columns, labels on the right with numbers to the left. At the bottom was ‘Turnout’. The number was seventy-eight percent. Venkdt clenched his jaw looking angry and worried. “It’s twenty-past seven in the evening. Who wouldn’t have voted by now, who was going to vote? Jesus, we’re never going to make it.”

  “We’ve got nearly three hours, yet,” assured Kostovich.

  “I don’t like it,” said Venkdt, “I don’t like it one little bit. We should be in the eighties by now.”

  “We’ll get there.”

  “We will?”

  “Sure. A couple of hours ago I extrapolated voting patterns through to ten o’clock. They’ll continue to decline but, I predict, you should limp over the line sometime around 21:30.”

  Venkdt stared at him.

  “I made the extrapolation extremely cautious, too. It’s in the bag.”

  “In the bag,” echoed Venkdt. “There are no certainties in this world, my friend. Have you eaten?”

  Kostovich eyed the sandwiches and pastries on the conference table by Christina’s elbow. “I could eat,” he said. He went over and took a seat next to Christina, taking a pastry and pouring a glass of orange juice. “What are you working on there?” he said.

  “It’s nothing,” Christina replied dismissively, “just some corporate stuff.”

  “Interesting?”

  “Not really.”

  Kostovich chewed on the pastry. “You must be pretty smart to keep on top of all this legal stuff.”

  Christina stopped and looked up. “It’s not interesting but it does require concentra
tion. And you don’t need to be smart - not smart like you are, anyway - you just need to be diligent, and not a moron. I’m trying to work, could you please be quiet?”

  Kostovich nodded. “Okay, quiet it is.” He finished the pastry. “Of course, I may let out a little shout around half-nine.”

  Christina glared at him and he moved back to his seat by Venkdt’s desk. Kostovich fiddled with the console so it displayed the figures to two decimal places. Turnout was seventy-eight point nine six percent. It was a little over 20:00

  They spent the next hour in near silence. Christina was wrapped up, or at least pretending to be wrapped up, in her work, Kostovich was fiddling on his comdev and Venkdt was variously sat at his desk, watching the stream or pacing the room. The turnout percentage crept up slowly over the hour:

  20:15: seventy-nine point three two percent

  20:30: seventy-nine point five one percent

  20:45: seventy-nine point seven two percent

  21:00: seventy-nine point eight four percent

  21:15: seventy-nine point nine three percent

  As Kostovich had predicted the number of votes cast per minute dropped and dropped as time went on but the eighty percent threshold inched ever closer. By 21:20 even Christina was interested. She pushed her papers to one side and looked at the screen. The terminal readout was laid over the News Muncher feed, which was currently showing a party somewhere. Revellers were being asked what they thought about the election. Most made idiotic half-shouted replies, too busy partying to take anything seriously. The ‘yes’ vote had it by a huge margin but many were ignoring the vital question of turnout. The partygoers were celebrating a victory they had not yet achieved. The News Muncher anchors were pushing the turnout question for all it was worth. It was the only angle that added drama to the result.

  “We’re going to do it,” Christina said quietly and confidently.

  The logical part of Venkdt’s brain agreed but he felt too uneasy to go along with her, electing instead to remain with his eyes fixed to the screen.

  It was 21:21. The turnout was seventy-nine point nine seven percent.

  “I would expect a bit of late run,” said Kostovich, “starting sometime around a quarter to ten or so. The last minute people, you know. People who have been putting it off but then suddenly panic.”

  Venkdt nodded silently as the turnout clicked over to seventy-nine point nine eight percent.

  For the next five minutes nothing changed, then the turnout count flickered again: seventy-nine point nine nine percent.

  Venkdt stood up. “Goddamn,” he said, “how long now?” There was a clock in the corner of the huge screen they were watching but Kostovich answered anyway.

  “The poll will close in approximately twenty-seven minutes.”

  Venkdt walked over to the conference table and poured himself a drink. He walked back and stood in front of the screen, taking sips from his glass and rocking back on his heels. He caught Kostovich’s eye and smiled thinly at him.

  “There’ll be a surge at the end,” said Kostovich.

  “I know,” said Venkdt distantly, his eyes fixed on that one tiny portion of the screen that said ‘seventy-nine point nine nine percent.’

  Eighty percent.

  Venkdt breathed out heavily and, placing the glass on his desk, he walked to Kostovich who was rising from his chair and offering his hand. “Congratulations, Mr Venkdt,” said Kostovich as Venkdt grasped the hand and shook it.

  “Thank you, Dr Kostovich,” Venkdt said, with genuine tenderness. Venkdt turned and Christina was already upon him. She flung her arms around him and spoke to the side of his head.

  “Well, done, Dad. I know how much you wanted this.” Venkdt hugged his daughter back and, disengaging, turned back to the screen. The turnout had already changed again, to eighty point zero one percent. The revellers didn’t look quite so foolish now.

  “I’d like to thank you two, both of you, for all the work you’ve done on this,” said Venkdt. “I think this is a truly historic day for this planet and you’ve contributed to it immeasurably.” He took his glasses off and cleaned the lenses on his shirt front. Kostovich thought he looked a little puffy around the eyes but he quickly put the glasses back on and it was difficult to tell.

  “You know,” said Venkdt, “this is just the beginning. There is so much work to do yet, and I’m glad to have you with me.” He beamed at them both.

  “This is going to be one hell of an adventure.”

  Maya Foveaux was working the late shift on plebiscite day. She wasn’t expecting any more trouble than usual, and usual was pretty minimal. There were parties and other events sponsored by Venkdt scattered about and though she made sure there was a security presence at all of them they had turned out to be very good-natured, running without any hitches. She was due off duty at midnight and was in her office, running down the last few hours of her shift writing up some reports, when a junior knocked on the door. He stuck his head round and called out, “Results in soon, sir, we’re watching it in the canteen if you’d care to join us.” He’d gone before Maya had the chance to reply. She had been lost in what she was doing and hadn’t kept track of time but she was, she realised now, interested in the result of the plebiscite. She finished up what she was doing and made her way to the canteen.

  The canteen was way busier than it would usually have been at that time of night. An aggregator was playing streams on one of the walls. It was set to election coverage and was cutting between personal streams of revellers and some more highly structured pieces. Glancing around the room Maya noticed there was a mixture of on and off duty security personnel in attendance. It seemed Venkdt Security were having their own little election party. She felt slightly irked that she hadn’t been notified, even more so that she hadn’t been invited. She wondered if she might have cause to discipline someone over it but then she told herself to forget it; this wasn’t any ordinary occasion.

  An off duty officer bundled past her saying, “Drink, sir?” but before Maya had chance to turn it down the officer had melted back into the throng. Maya found herself a seat on the arm of a sofa with a good view of the screen. A security officer sat on the sofa next to her sheepishly offered his place but Maya graciously turned him down.

  Soon enough it was like New Year’s Eve. There was a countdown, starting from thirty and getting louder and more raucous as it got down to one. Where logically there should have been a zero there was instead an eruption of cheers and clapping. The stream flashed the words ‘22:00: Polling Closed’ on the screen, quickly followed by the words ‘Live Result:’, but with nothing after them. A commentator on the stream informed her audience that, although the vote was electronic and as such did not need counting like an old-fashioned paper ballot, the result would need to be verified by the software systems returning officer. That might take anything up to one minute and only then could the result be officially announced.

  There was a high-energy burbling hubbub in the room and a nervous excitement. Maya wondered if maybe she should have taken up the offer of that drink. She was looking away from the screen for a split second when the room erupted in cheers. She looked back to the screen for confirmation but her view was blocked now by standing, jumping, shouting people, hugging each other and punching the air. Even though she realised the result must have been ‘yes’, she still wanted to see the screen for absolute confirmation. Stepping to one side and craning her neck awkwardly there it was; ‘Live Result: YES!!!’ Someone suddenly grabbed hold of her, squeezing her tightly and rocking from side to side. The person reeked of beer, and Maya was relieved when he let go. She thought about disciplining him and again pushed the thought away in light of the momentous occasion. As the initial surge of cheering revelry rolled back the screen cut to Charles Venkdt’s personal stream. He was beaming in his grandfatherly way and he looked tired but elated. He began to speak.

  “People of Mars,” he said, “you have voted today overwhelmingly to pursue a course of
Martian independence. In full accordance with your wishes we will begin the process of disengaging our courts, security services, military and most importantly our business operations from their parent organisations on the old home planet. It is our hope and expectation that this process will proceed with the minimum of disruption here and back on Earth. We do not seek to antagonise our Earth-based brothers and sisters. We will fully compensate all Earth corporations, particularly my own company Venkdt, for the new fully independent operations that we will be demerging from them. We will pay the going market rate plus ten percent for all the businesses, stock and tangible assets that we will be taking over. Within the next month we will run full elections to the new Martian senate as set out in the proposed constitution, available for perusal on the Venkdt site and replicated on many others. I hope you will support those elections in the same enthusiastic and well-informed manner that you have supported this plebiscite.”

  He paused for breath.

  “I would like, before I finish, to remind you all of what a brave and momentous choice you have made. I know it was not an easy choice; I wrestled with it myself. But we now set off into an exciting independent future, where the only limits are set by our imaginations. We are at the furthest frontier of mankind’s progression across the solar system and into the galaxy beyond. Besides the many resources ripe for exploitation right here on Mars - our Mars - we are sat in prime position to exploit the asteroid belt beyond. We can create huge wealth for ourselves, in terms both of treasure and experience. We do this for ourselves, and for generations yet unborn, of course, but ultimately we take these brave steps into the future for all mankind.”

  He paused one final time and only now did Maya notice that the canteen, from its previous boisterous maelstrom of noise, had fallen almost completely silent. Venkdt stared out from the screen and his voice seemed to catch in his throat as he signed off.

  “Thank you, people of Mars,” he said, “and good night.”

  Maya ambled slowly back to her office, at one point passing a couple snogging up against a wall. In her mind she was running over possible futures and wondering if anything would really change much. Probably not, she told herself. Like Venkdt, she thought that various names on deeds and letterheads might change but the workaday routine would continue much as it ever had. Venkdt had asked her to make plans for a nascent independent police force should a ‘yes’ vote be returned. She had been told she could split the resources of Venkdt Security in half and form the new police service as she best saw fit. She had been flattered that he had put that much faith in her ability and she was confident she was up to the job. She had made rough, back-of-an-envelope plans but hadn’t developed the ideas much beyond that. She decided as she walked that she would now have to flesh those plans out fast and put them into practice. She thought she would ask for volunteers and would try to forge an alliance with the soldiers stationed at the USAN garrison. Her guess was that the garrison would be resistant. They were not Martian and would feel much more traitorous than her own people, but she thought that co-opting them might help defuse any potential conflicts.