Kingmaker, page 10
part #1 of The Gods That Gamble Series
In his left ear, King heard Jack's voice. "We're prepared to pay, of course. We plan on running the story as one large piece, rather than risk the pressure of a serial. Entertainment and reality are one these days. Do you think this has everything we'll need to know?"
In his right ear, King heard the murmur of the crowd of citizens. Suddenly, the audience fell silent. A robed woman, gavel in hand, descended from the ceiling in a levitating chair. She struck the gavel against the arm of the chair, producing an ear-piercing bleep from the chamber's sound system. The Galactic Legislative Session was commencing.
Johnny King propped his feet on his desk. His boots clanked against the chrome. He reached into his suit jacket, pulled out a cigar, and then pressed it against a button on the sleeve of his jacket until smoke billowed. He put the cigar to his lips and inhaled deeply as his eyes shifted between the two screens.
Chapter 26
Senator: Dissent
Cairo
The frame of the woman enthroned high in the air above the Galactic Legislature spilled over the arms of her chair. She snarled, her arms flapping as she slapped her gavel against the arm of her seat.
"Order." She stated, her voice echoing through the chamber. "I am Madame Arbiter Carillon Thinly. This Galactic Session, the final of this election cycle, has commenced."
Hundreds of citizens in the seats below fell silent. All eyes were on the Arbiter.
The Madame Arbiter flattened a crease on her red robe. "We know why we are here. We know why this is the most attended Galactic Session by members of the public, unaffiliated with the private sector, in the history of our New Earth."
Her seat descended toward the stage. All eyes followed.
"There is no other bill more important, more consequential, both economically and morally, than the closing legislation on the table." The Arbiter paced her chair across the crowd. "Today is the conclusion to the…fiasco that is Ethics Measure 716 – The Ban on Commercial Cloning and Copyright Act."
The crowd began to murmur. The Arbiter hammered her gavel. "This bill's path has been marked at every turn by controversy, and infused with passionate debate. Passed in the Senate, rejected by the Council, overturned and passed in the Senate once more. As a compromise, a board of Liaison Trustees has been forged, who may only repeal the overturn by unanimous consent. Please welcome the Liaison Trustees." The Arbiter swung her arm out wide toward the stage.
One by one, men and women in suits came onto the stage, waving to the crowd. The audience greeted them with unanimous, routine applause. That is, until, the last member of the board of Liaison Trustees took the stage: a portly woman, with a fire in her eyes. As half the crowd's clapping turned to cheers, a resonant jeer pierced the praises. Senator Alabastra Paige-Zuckerberg was greeted, as she had been most of her career, with passionate support and equally passionate dissidence. She waved, unsmiling, as she joined the others in line behind the podium.
The Arbiter slammed the gavel. "Order." The crowd hushed. "Liaison Trustees. Please approach, in turn, and announce to the citizens of the Galaxy your vote. The Councilor from District Fourteen."
The first man in line stepped up to the podium. "Present, Madame Arbiter."
The Arbiter said, "On the motion of the Private Council to halt the Senate override and, in effect, forbid Ethics Measure 716 from becoming law, how do you vote?"
The first man, nodding, said "Yea."
The Arbiter replied, "One vote to forbid the bill from passing into law, noted."
So it was for eight other Senators and Councilors, until the last.
The Arbiter said, "So, we have nine votes to forbid the bill from passing into law. The Senator from District Seven."
Alabastra Paige-Zuckerberg stepped to the podium. She breathed in deeply, her chest and shoulder rising high. The crowd roared. She peered about the people, making eye contact with everyone she could. She clutched the edge of the podium.
The Arbiter asked, "On the motion to forbid Ethics Measure 716 from becoming law, how do you vote?"
The Senator stated, "Nay."
The word echoed throughout the chamber. People, spread throughout the audience, rose to their feet and cheered and hugged each other. The Arbiter slammed her gavel, bleeps interrupting the cheers.
"Order!" The Arbiter shouted. When the ovation waned to low murmurs, the Arbiter turned her attention to the podium. "Senator," she said. "You have cast the decisive vote. Would you like to state the reasons of your dissent for the public record?"
The Senator ran her eyes up and down the crowd. She took a deep breath, and cleared her throat. "I sure would, Madame Arbiter."
In the top balconies, a suited man stood up from his seat and pushed his way through the crowd. Ramir sifted through the rows of audience members: every few seats, he tapped someone on the shoulder, or leaned down to whisper in an ear.
Chapter 27
Amy: Cube
The Garden
The raconteur, the henchman, and the lawyer sat on rocks in the artificial garden.
Torrie extended her hand to Amy. "Well, Ms. Silver, I think we have a deal. And, on a personal note, I must say it's been so refreshing to talk to someone who has the same…concept of humanity, as we do."
Amy shook the hand, beaming. "Likewise, Ms. Lancaster."
Torrie forced her smile wider. "Now, are you able to hand over the data?"
"Oh," Amy said, "of course." She reached into her back pocket, and produced an onyx cube carved with streaking blue lights. She held it between two fingers and, like a judicious jeweler, set it carefully in Torrie's open palm.
Torrie's hand snapped shut. "Thank you, Ms. Silver. I suppose we'll take our leave now."
Amy said, "There is just one last concern I'd like to bring up."
Torrie cocked an eyebrow.
"Are you and your partner planning to kill me before or after you verify what you want is on that cube?" Amy raised her right hand to her chest.
Under his jacket, Jack gripped the curved handle of his bolter.
Chapter 28
Senator: Independence
All eyes were on the Senator. Alabastra gripped the edge of the podium and pulled her shoulders high. She scanned the balconies of the legislative chambers – filled more than she had ever seen. The cameras flew in synchronized circles about the stage, flashing their lights at the podium. Outside, the glorious Guardian Sphinx lay watch over the Capital. The Senator stared up at the domed ceiling, past the sunlight beaming through the roof. To the Senator, there was nothing else around her – it was her, the Sphinx behind her, both standing tall and staring down a small orange planet millions of miles away.
With glazed eyes, she leaned into the microphone. "Madame Arbiter, citizens of the New Earth, thank you for being here today. This bill, and its passing, has been the highest achievement and, ultimately, the death, of my career. Ethics Measure 716 today becomes law, and authorizes the Galactic Armed Forces, in just course, to enforce the ban on the Commercial Cloning Industry.
"As we speak, the Galactic Fleet is descending upon our sisters and our brothers whom we once called family, but now regard as neighbors, one planet away. There is a cold wickedness that brews in the red sands of Mars, aptly named for the proto-ancient Titan of War."
Ramir hunched, crouch-walking down a row in the third balcony. He tapped another shoulder. He whispered in another ear.
"Many of you have grandparents that survived the Reset Era, when waters rose up to condemn our land and push us toward the stars. Some of them stayed, and chose to rebuild our home, and forge this New Earth by the same determined hands that built the ancient economies of old, and consequently destroyed it."
Wherever Ramir tread, the crowd began to stir. A couple here, a handful there, reached into pockets and backpacks and produced screens of varying sizes. They grouped together, assembling them into larger pieces.
"Standing high and proud above us, is the beloved Sphinx, a gesture to the grandiose ambition of our ancestors. Our beloved Guardian, erected to remind us of our desire to create and our duty to protect. And on his hip, a sheathed sword lies: whose blade is burned with three words that were to be the motto of this New Civilization. Three words that were supposed to enshrine the new course of humanity. Three words in the soul of a civilization who, saved from near destruction, reflected upon its old ways and shouted to the future that it was abandoning the doomed direction of its past."
Ramir traveled the whole of the balcony encompassing the Legislative stage. He took a seat in the center, removed his tie, his jacket, his black glasses, neatly folded them and placed them on the floor under his seat. He rolled up his sleeves, and ran a hand through his hair.
"This bill did not pass because of this great new government we established. This bill passed in spite of it. For four decades I have carried out the work of our ancestors, to the best of my feeble ability to interpret their wisdom and vision. In these recent years, my days have been spent fending off vultures and smacking the hands of thieves. I never imagined that the greatest accomplishment of my career would be passing a bill to keep the integrity of humanity—our DNA and the offspring derived from it—sacred and safe, protected from commodity. Such a notion should be common sense, and stir the basic instincts of morality."
Dozens of eyes throughout the crowd glanced between Ramir and the Senator. Some jittered, some clenched their fist.
"We worked tirelessly, two planets apart, to build parallel civilizations, separated only by distance, closer than ever in ambition and spirit. To some, that ambition was internalized in their hearts, and they toiled to construct the foundations of our freedom. To others, that ambition was internalized in their pockets, and they foiled the revival of our Great Civilization. Today, the planet Earth has a broken Republic—a legislature divided by business and government: a sloppy compromise to delay the inevitable. These halls run rampant with scandal after scandal and fraud after fraud. Our political discourse is riddled with false dichotomies: that efficiency is the enemy of cronyism, and that integrity is the opposite of liberty. Today, both planets are ruled by plutocracies. One by a Council…
"And the other," the Senator set her eyes on a camera in front of her, and leered into its lens, "by a King."
Ramir rose to his feet and raised his fist in the air. Dozens upon dozens throughout the chamber followed suit. They yelled, jeered, and roared. A group on the right side of the balcony raised a giant screen with a bold message in orange text: INDEPENDENCE FOR MARS! They chanted the words. The Arbiter's chair floated over to the balcony and she barked and smacked her gavel.
The Senator narrowed her eyes at the middle balcony. She twisted a knob on her microphone. Her voice rose, resonating louder throughout the chamber. "This is not the civlization we worked for. The government was supposed to be a tool of the people: a mode of convenience for ironing out all the conflicting forces and expectations of society. It is no longer a tool of the people. The government is a disease of addiction: it can be overcome, but never cured. We overcame this government long enough to pass this bill. I doubt in my lifetime we shall ever do anything so virtuous again."
Ramir reached under his seat and retrieved his black glasses. He donned them, sat down, and crossed a foot over his knee. He made a "come hither" motion at the center of the chamber. Every news camera tore its eye from the Senator and buzzed about the crowd, filming the disruptions.
The Senator turned, puffed her chest, and bellowed into the microphone. "We have failed our obligations as Shepherds of the People. Our government is a gutshot lamb and its wound must be constantly cleaned and bandaged. Inevitably, though, its death is nearing. When it comes, its legacy will not be defined by when or where it died, but how. The pioneers of the future, the Shepherds of tomorrow, when they finally give the autopsy, what will it read? Did our government, our lamb, simply run out of blood or succumb to infection?
The entire crowd was on its feet. Chants of "Free Mars!" were returned with shouts of "Martian scum!" Half the crowd shook their fists at the other; cries of independence were met with slurs and insults and fists.
The Senator rolled her eyes. Her voice faded as she turned away from the microphone, her back to the people. "Madame Arbiter, I yield my time."
Chapter 29
King: Great Work
King sat his desk, watching two screens. On his left, was a point of view of Jack staring at Amy Blackstone. His right was the view of Ramir scanning the riled crowd of the Galactic Legislature.
King laughed. He pointed to the screen on his right. "N'cole, send text: Great work, Shadow. Let her walk out."
King pointed to the screen on his left…
Chapter 30
Amy: Mangled
Amy clutched the mangled cross on her chest. Jack hid his hand in his jacket. Torrie placed her hands behind her back, her left hand clutching the data cube.
Torrie walked toward Amy. "Eyes wide before the curtains close."
Amy braced herself and pinched her crucifix between her finger and thumb, twisting its end.
A blue spark arced over Torrie's left fist. Her arms seized in front of her. She collapsed in spasms.
In Jack's view, through his black glasses, Amy's image turned into a red silhouette. Jack drew his bolter.
—Halt: a text flashed to his glasses.
Another message: I will.
Jack tucked his bolter into his waistband. Fists at his side, he marched toward the raconteur.
Amy yanked the cross around her neck, snapping its brace, and held it by its strings.
Jack, marching forward, unfastened his tie and wound it around his fist.
Amy formed a stance, stepping backward with her right foot and holding her fist in front of her. She rotated her other arm, spinning her crucifix until it was a twirling blue light.
Jack raised his fists and bobbed his neck, studying Amy's movements.
She swung her crucifix at Jack's face.
He weaved and blocked with his forearm. The amulet wrapped and wrapped around his limb, the strings continually extending until the amulet whipped into Jack's cheek. It seared.
He shrieked, and grabbed his smoldering wound.
Amy tugged at the ends of her string. It spun, unwinding itself from Jack's arm, and retracted back to her hand.
Jack gritted his teeth and gave his black glasses two firm taps: a reticule followed Amy's crucifix.
She flicked her wrist, spinning her amulet—a taunt.
Jack charged.
Amy chucked her weapon upward.
Jack tossed his shoulders back, the crucifix brushing past his nose. He fell back onto his elbows.
Amy yanked the strings down in a deft motion. The amulet plunged toward Jack.
Jack pushed himself back and swung his legs apart, letting the amulet slam into the ground between them. He tucked his knees together and rolled backward, onto his feet.
Amy ripped the amulet from the ground, leaving a tuft of sizzling grass. She wheeled her arm behind her head and swung hard at Jack.
Jack's eyes followed the amulet. It drew closer to his face. Jack balled his fist that was wrapped in his tie. As the crucifix closed in toward his face, he threw a punch.
The object collided with the cloth around Jack's hand. Blue sparks shot from the amulet and Jack's knuckles. Jack turned his wrist and caught the cross in his palm. Sparks flying from his fist, he clenched the object and paced toward Amy.
Amy jerked on the strings but couldn't wrestle her weapon from Jack's grasp.
Jack, approaching in wide strides, raised his fist. He lunged at Amy, hurling his fist at her face.
Amy pivoted, and threw her forearm into Jack's swing. She released the strings of her amulet, and with her freed hand, thrust her palm into Jack's nose.
Jack's head wrenched back. He was blinded. His glasses were chipped, and sunlight stung his eyes. He ripped them off and threw them to the ground. He tossed the amulet along with it.
He towered over Amy.
Amy narrowed her eyes, yelled, and threw a punch toward Jack's chin.
Jack grabbed her arm with his wrapped fist. A blue arch flung from Jack's knuckles to Amy's arm.
Amy convulsed, dropping to her knees.
Jack squeezed.
She fell onto her back, twitching, writhing against his grasp.
He let go.
Amy's arm fell; limp, as the rest of her body.
Jack panted and seethed. He pressed two fingers into the back of his elbow. Drugs shot through his vein: his breathing returned to normal, his adrenaline faded.
Sticking out from the bright-green grass of the garden, lay Jack's glasses. He picked them up and tapped the sides.
"King. Duty faithfully executed."
Chapter 31
King: Dine with a Demon
King paced back and forth in front of the window that took up the entire backwall of his apartment: a ritzy Martian highrise, whose dingy furniture clashed with the sleek chrome tiles on the walls and floor. King looked out across the city. Today, the shutters were receded on the dome of Cloud One, and the turquoise light reflecting off the Hellas Sea radiated across the city. The blue light, mixed with the red Martian sands, painted the apartment a muted orange.
It had been a day since Jack's message. King pulled at his lapels and cracked his joints – neck, wrists, fingers, then neck again. On the table a silver tin lay, spilled. Powder as red as the Martian dunes sprinkled its surface.
The same red stained Johnny's nose and hands. He rubbed his nose, sniffed, then rubbed his hands. He pulled at his lapels, then cracked his joints – neck, wrists, fingers, then neck again.
Text flashed in the lens of Johnny's glasses. Here.
Johnny paused. He straightened his shoulders. He positioned himself in front of his window, looking out with his back to the door and his hands folded behind him.
A few moments went by, then muffled thumps. Then voices, arguing.
