by Daniel Gibbs
It was exhausting work. Lusitania's economy was suffering grievously from the stock market shocks after the bombing, reduced economic activity under martial law, and the system lockdown effectively paralyzing their interstellar trade connections. It was no wonder Vitorino was rushing to an election: Lusitania couldn't afford to stay under martial law. It fell on her to try and keep everything stable until things returned to normal.
As a new morning came, she watched the dawning sunrise over Gamavilla. She'd been up for two hours already from sleeping difficulties and, with the aid of rich Arabica coffee grown in the tropics of Beja, had achieved that bizarre balance where the sleepiness in her brain seemed to make her mind more honed and active than it should be in her state. She was already pushing the limits of her knowledge in assembling a coherent policy for the ministries Vitorino left in her care.
But now her focus slipped. Not in the direction of the sleep her brain was craving, but in the thought that something deeper was going on. There were still no reports on complicity in the bombing. The RSS, and thus Vitorino, were not making any public statements about the issue. Were they truly in the dark, though? Or was there something more going on?
The more she thought of that, the more she saw her situation in a different light. Vitorino handing her all of these critical offices, and with them the power to deal with the pressing issues of Lusitania's domestic and economic situation, could be a gesture of good faith on his part, or it might be an attempt to distract her, to overwhelm her with the duties of running these four ministries. Now she didn't have time to rally the Party for Democratic Unity or any of the other democratic parties. She had a planetary economy to keep running.
The idea chilled her. She'd accepted Vitorino's offered ministries because she felt it was the only way to get a chance at knowing what was going on and influence decisions. But Vitorino wasn't consulting her like that. He asked about economic affairs only and wasn't confiding defense issues, even though she was responsible for helping to fund and enforce them. He'd neutralized her as effectively as if he'd arrested her. More effectively, since she was now a Minister of his Government. This curtailed her ability to effectively criticize him publicly. She'd be made to look grasping and ungrateful.
What have I done? I walked right into his trap.
What game is Vargas playing? He'd wanted her on the Cabinet. Was it because he and Vitorino were in collusion on something? It would explain why Vitorino let him get away with violating standard protocol in the President's interactions with the Opposition.
No, she was sure there'd been some real irritation from Vitorino when he'd seen Vargas had talked to her alone.
But can I risk it?
She had no opportunity to answer that question for herself. Her secure commlink lit up with an incoming message. The Finance Ministry's draft of an economic impact report was ready for her. She let out a small sigh and went to prepare her breakfast. Another long day loomed ahead.
After a pleasing lunch, Vitorino returned to the examination of reports, Carvalho attending him as always. "She does marvelous work, doesn't she?" he asked suddenly.
Carvalho blinked. "Who, sir?"
"Why, Minister Ascaro," replied Vitorino. "She was a tolerable Commerce Minister, back when her party was in the Government. Now she juggles the ministries I've given her with decent skill." He chuckled. "I suppose when she doesn't have protests to direct or political screeds to issue, she’s an effective Cabinet Minister."
"I still think you should have rewarded Domingues more extensively. Too much power in Ascaro's hands can backfire."
Vitorino laughed. "Her power is pointless. She has almost no armed personnel save the field investigators of the Revenue Office. I control the military, the RSS, and the security service. And she knows that. Nor will she have time to gather the kind of support she'd need to leverage her ministries against me." He reached for his one post-lunch glass of port and enjoyed a drink of the sweet, strong beverage. "Not with the operation so near."
"Admiral Hartford is not happy over Gaon's escape," Carvalho interjected. "He fears she will do something to disrupt it."
Vitorino might have laughed about that, if not for the fact of the codes the Shadow Wolf used to escape. They implied a security breach in the government, which might yet endanger everything, or even worse, that Cristina Caetano was still alive. "Still nothing about the code problem?"
"No."
"I don't suppose she could be alive," Vitorino mused. "Your former leader."
"Impossible," Carvalho insisted. "The bombs in the Cabinet platform were too powerful. We found genetic traces that matched hers."
"All that proves is she bled," Vitorino pointed out. "Take precautions, just in case. I don't want to leave anything to chance. Are the arrangements made for the investigation?"
"Yes, sir," he said. "We'll reveal the evidence of her responsibility for the bombs after the operation is complete. It should destroy what's left of the PdDN."
Vitorino smiled broadly. "Along with the Socialists and democratic parties."
"Yes. With the election so soon, and support for you so high when it comes, I can't imagine you'll have a coherent opposition to deal with. Anyone you endorse will win an Assembly seat. You'll be able to pick your own government."
"Perhaps I should hope Caetano is alive so I might thank her," Vitorino stated, pleased at the prospect of avoiding the difficulties of assembling a coalition government as his own late chief Raisuni had been forced to do, repeatedly. "She made this so much easier for me."
Carvalho chuckled and said nothing else.
While the repair crews worked and the Trinidad Station Council of Guilds awaited the verdict on the evidence, the primary activities of the Shadow Wolf crew were sleeping, eating, and waiting. The ship's rec room and the galley were almost always in use.
For her part, Miri preferred to stay by herself, or to relieve al-Lahim from his duties of watching Kepper. Her former assailant was unnerving in his quiet demeanor, and she didn't envy al-Lahim the task of observing him regularly.
After he returned from a meal, al-Lahim pointedly said, "The First Mate's having everyone watch a holovid together. Rothbard won first choice and picked The Exodus Fleet. You've seen that, I hope?"
Miri nodded and smiled. "It's a Yoseph Tannenbaum vid, Abdul. It's hard to grow up on New Israel and not watch at least one of his films. Especially not the Founding Trilogy." She shook her head. "I think I'll pass, though. If you'd like to see it—"
"Oh, I've seen it more times than I can count," al-Lahim said. "It's required viewing in schools, remember?"
"Maybe elsewhere. The government on New Israel never bothered making it part of the curriculum. Everyone watches it anyway."
Al-Lahim and Miri shared a short laugh. "I'm fine," al-Lahim insisted. "Go ahead and join the others."
Miri had no intention of doing so, but she didn't say so. She gave him a thankful smile in reply and walked out of the room.
She'd been aboard the Shadow Wolf long enough to know her way around. She walked past the rec room as the sounds of the holovid played through the open door. She briefly glanced to see the Shadow Wolf crew watching the vid intently. She recognized the scene—the argument over the Fleet's direction, which while a foregone conclusion, managed to be one of the most engaging in the film—and nearly stopped to watch before deciding to continue. She honestly preferred the middle vid, Lands of Promise, more, since it covered the colonization of Canaan along with the other major worlds of the Coalition.
After considering and rejecting getting something from the pantry, Miri found herself approaching the bridge. The door was open, and, to her surprise, the LCD surface of the bridge's front wall was active. It showed a visual of Trinidad Station and nearby vessels. It shifted to show the Trifid Nebula from the orbit of Galt. "Who's here?" she asked aloud.
The right-hand command seat turned. Caetano moved her hand away from the control. "I was just examining the visual database," she
said.
For Miri, the experience felt odd. She'd seen vids of Cristina Caetano here and there, especially during leaves on Lusitania. She'd always come off as a person in complete and utter control of everything. Herself, her surroundings, her followers. One got the feeling it was only a matter of time before she ruled her homeworld.
But none of that was present now. Just a deep, almost hollow look to her eyes.
It took Miri a moment before she recognized the look. It was the same kind of blank stare she'd had for weeks after extraction from Lowery. One she still sometimes saw in the mirror. With that realization in mind, she said, "It's always hard when it's over. When the mission's ended, for better or worse, and you're back to who you really are."
Caetano pursed her lips. "I suppose you and I share that in common, yes." She laughed. "Except I used my own given name for my 'legend,' as you put it. I suborned everything I was to the image I needed."
"You became your legend. I, sometimes I felt like I'd done the same," Miri admitted. "It was so easy, especially after the camp. After all of the people I denounced to the League." She slid into Henry's chair, taking care not to touch any of the controls. "I almost forgot what it was like to live outside of the League."
"Was it worth it to you, in the end?" asked Caetano.
"I would have to say yes," Miri said. "The outcome was more than I could’ve hoped for. I would do… almost everything the same way as I did before."
Caetano nodded at that. "Much of what I've done, I can still justify as necessary. Not everything, just— "
"You planned for the long term," Miri observed. "To rise as far as you did. What is all of this supposed to be for?"
Given the pained look that came across Caetano's face, Miri wondered if she would get an answer. After lowering her head for a few moments, Caetano raised it again to meet Miri eye to eye. "My birth name is Cristina Maria Rodrigues e Silva," she said. "My father, Antonio, owned a winery in the Tagus Valley, while my mother, Francesca, worked in local government. I was the youngest of three siblings. My older brother was Miguel, and my sister, Sofia." Old, happy memories tainted by later misfortune were clearly going through her head as she talked. Miri could see it from the haunted look in Caetano's blue eyes, now not as piercing as they'd once been.
"On my world, the authoritarian and nationalist parties like to insist the Estado Novo was a necessary response to the outbreak of the war," Caetano said, continuing. "The truth is, they were trying to undermine Lusitanian democracy long before then. The war gave them the excuse they needed to terrify enough voters into supporting the measure. I was sixteen when the constitutional reform was passed. Local governments had much of their power stripped. My mother was ordered to give a loyalty oath to the new constitution if she wanted to keep working. She refused and decided to run for the Assembly." Tears formed in Caetano's eyes. "She had a shot at winning. That's why the Falange murdered her."
"The Falange?" Miri thought the name sounded familiar.
"The first of the true fascist parties. They later merged with others to become the PdDN," Caetano explained. "They shot her, and got away with it. The central government declared the shooter was a maniac their forces shot dead a few days later. It was easier that way. So my poor father decided to run in her stead to honor her memory. A week later, just days before election day, he was with Sofia checking on the running of the winery, when there was an explosion. They burned to death in the rubble."
The tears on Caetano's face, the pain in her voice, caused sympathy to well up within Miri. She remained silent to let the other woman finish in her own time.
"My brother had to take me in. He was a student at Soares National University in Nova Lisboa. We scraped by as best as we could. Miguel inherited mother's political views, but he kept quiet about them, for my sake. The only thing he did was sign petitions. Harmless, we thought."
"Not always," Miri murmured.
"One of the petitions he signed called for the restoration of the old constitution. The Security Services decided it was proof of anti-constitutional activity. So late one night, there was a knock at our apartment door."
Miri could figure where this ended. "And you never saw him again?"
"He was eventually released," said Caetano. "After weeks of beatings and abuse in the jail and day-long interrogations about his 'anti-government activities.' It destroyed him physically. And even before the services let him go, the University expelled him for being against the Estado Novo. His life was ruined." She rubbed at her cheek to wipe away tears. "He found what work he could to help put me through university instead. For my protection, I assumed the name of my grandmother and became Cristina Caetano. Before I could go to university, new laws required me to serve three years in the military as a conscript. He died just before I mustered out."
"I'm sorry," said Miri.
Caetano gave her an appreciative look. She drew in a breath before continuing. "I haven't spoken of my family in nearly two decades. I never had anyone I could trust enough to do so with."
Miri knew what that was like, and the pressures it put on an agent. "When did you decide to… follow this life?"
"After my brother died, I briefly went home. There was going to be a vigil in honor of my mother on the anniversary of her death. There'd been such vigils every year, but this one, it was the smallest it'd ever been. And those attending looked so completely beaten. Across our entire world, it seemed everyone had given up. They were happy to cling to what little democracy they had left and didn't care about getting what we’d lost back."
"Then the Falange merged with other parties to form the PdDN, and they started gaining seats almost immediately." Caetano sighed. "I realized it wasn't going to get better any time soon. The fascists were growing in power, and my people were so scared of the war and everything else, they'd let them. My family's deaths would go unpunished. Their killers were going to win and write the history books. My choice was to either surrender to it, to flee the planet, or… do something about it." She let out a low chuckle. "I was young, believed myself invincible, and desperate. So I hatched a plan to infiltrate the PdDN and expose, well, whatever I could. Humiliate them. Maybe enough that they'd stop growing in popularity."
"But it didn't work out that way," Miri said.
"No. It didn't. I wasn't the only one in the organization to leak their activities, it turned out. I watched as they accomplished nothing, nothing but their own beatings and deaths. Nobody cared about what they uncovered. Some even cheered the fascists for it. Within a year of joining the party, I saw my plan wouldn't work. Not unless the PdDN did or planned something so terrible, they would lose most of their followers. And if they weren't planning to do something like that—"
"—you would make it appear as if they were," Miri said.
Caetano nodded. "Which required me to climb to the top of the party. I had to embrace their ideology in a way that left me sick." A wry chuckle came from her. "It's scary how good I was at it."
"You could be quite convincing, I've heard," Miri agreed.
"They started making me a keynote speaker because of it. They put me in the Assembly. On the Party Governing Committee. Dr. Rocha, the founder of the unified party and our leader, eventually named me his successor. Because I was so devoted." Caetano's voice betrayed her disgust. "Sometimes I can't believe how well I fooled them." She laughed bitterly. "It really is a simple ideology, I suppose. Insist on absolute authority as a patriotic duty, dismiss dissent as treasonous, and encourage everyone to hate and fear foreigners. Simple solutions to complex problems, and people still line up for it."
"Because it's easier," Miri said. "The League is nearly the same."
"Yes." Caetano shook her head. "I had to become someone I hated to bring down the people who destroyed my family. I hurt others to do it. No, I didn't personally do so, usually, but I was the one inciting it. Encouraging my party members with rhetoric that guaranteed they'd begin to assault political opponents. Whipping them into a
frenzy of hatred so they'd make a plan to seize control seem plausible to everyone else."
The admission didn't surprise Miri. She had her own demons tormenting her. The ghosts of Christopher Tobay and Annette Zens.
"They come to you in your dreams, don't they?" Caetano asked. "The shades of the people you helped to kill."
Miri pursed her lips. "Yes. You?"
"A couple. But they're background to… to my family. In my dreams, they're alive again, and I don't have this ridiculous double life. In my nightmares, I watch my followers kill them again, as they denounce me for betraying everything they held dear. I plead their forgiveness, and the others turn on me, taunting me that I'd failed, and it was all for nothing," Caetano swallowed. "And now they might be right. Vitorino has turned my plan against me. He's seized power and plans to align with the League."
"We may be able to stop him," Miri said.
"I hope we do, if just for my peace of mind." Caetano turned to the controls and tapped a key to bring up another recorded visual. This was of Lusitania itself. "Because I can't go back. Never. It would destroy everything I worked for, everything I sacrificed for. The people of Lusitania must know Cristina Caetano as a failed tyrant."
"What about Cristina Silva?" asked Miri. "Could she not return to her hometown and start her life anew?"
"And run the risk of someone recognizing me?" Caetano laughed and shook her head. "No. I can't do that. I can't take the risk. For the good of my people, I'll never be able to go home." Even as she spoke, tears filled her eyes again. Miri could imagine Caetano's thoughts. All of the places she loved while she was growing up, and she was going to lose them for good. Nothing but memories made bitter by her exile.