Kingmaker, page 19
part #1 of The Gods That Gamble Series
Francis grew quiet.
King opened his eyes. "Find Nexus." His throat was hoarse, but his tone was stern. "The things that attacked us. Not people. Androids. Robots. We are going to hunt," he wheezed, "and we are going to kill those fucking things."
"Androids?" Francis sat up, fixed his collar and straightened his tie. He rolled back his sleeve and tapped the screen on his arm.
Chapter 64
Senator: Interview
Cairo
It had been decades since the Senator had been in an interview. A frill purple blouse, with a stiff, thick collar — she felt suffocated as she sat in the narrow lobby. She most likely was the most experienced in the room, but the least comfortable, mostly due to the formal attire.
The rest of the applicants were much younger. Women and men, skinny, bright-eyed and straight-backed, their ambitions the only thing on their mind. They talked amongst each other and their hopeful, haughty conversation slipped into the air. "Well, I've served my Councilman for six years and interned as an Intelligence Committee Underling…", "No doubt my marksmanship hobby will help break the ice with him", "Of course, he only cares about discipline, my military school taught me…"
The Senator slumped as she looked over them. Amateurs, she thought. They only have their careers in mind. They know nothing of the war ahead. Galactic peace, for all it's worth, has truly bred weakness.
A tall and thin-nosed suited man walked up the hallway. He smiled as his eyes met the Senator's.
"Alabastra!" He said, the room's attention turning to him. "How lovely! I never thought to see you again under the Sphinx." Sarcasm dripped from every word.
"Nixra," the Senator said, "Lovely to see you as well. Coming to charm our fellow civilian-cop?"
"Only once you wear him down for me." Nixra tugged at his collar. Where the Senator's collar rose tightly to her jaw, the man's almost touched his ears. It was a game among government interviews – to wear the collar you thought you were worth. Too short, and you were submissive; too tall, and you were crass. No one ever knew the size of their interviewer's collar, and having one taller than your interviewer was surely an instant dismissal.
"You seem a bit stiff. Around the neck. Compensating for something?" The Senator crossed her legs.
"Something I'd doubt you'd recognize, Albie." Nixra said. "Seriously, I bet the prick's collar reaches his hairline. You heard he physically arrested a criminal, as an executive?"
"We all make our name somehow."
The door slid open, and a woman – collar barely reaching halfway up her neck – ran out of the room, tears streaming down her face.
"Noel Nixra, Councilman," an AI voice said. Nixra, baffled, looked at the door.
"Oh, get a peek in there," the Senator said. She rubbed her collar. "Let me know if I should pop mine up."
Nixra frowned and marched into the door, which slid shut behind him.
A minute later, he emerged, face red and veins bulging. He snarled at the Senator and stormed down the hallway.
"Alabastra Paige-Zuckerberg, former Senator."
The Senator looked around the lobby. Why had no one seemed to be called in order? Garcia-Zumer must be watching the hallway, selecting the candidates deliberately.
The Senator stood, then paused. The young woman, collar too short. Nixra, collar too tall. Either the President-Elect's collar was to his hairline, or…
The Senator reached under her neckline and unfastened her collar, ripping it from her neck and tossing to the floor. The younger applicants in the room gasped. After the door shut behind her, they frantically tore at their own collars.
Garcia-Zumer glanced at the Senator's neck, then met her eyes. He stood and shook her hand. "Senator, I finally have the pleasure." Unlike most of the pleasantries between the gentry of the Nile, the President-Elect's greeting seemed genuine.
"Pleasure's mine, Mr. President." The Senator smiled and sat. She held her face together as she greeted the man.
She had nearly balked when she first saw Garcia-Zumer. He was wearing a grey-and-green battlesuit, no helmet – and no collar – with a gleaming gold-and-green badge pinned on his left strap. The uniform of a Galactic Enforcer.
Does this man not know anything about civilian oversight of the Armed Service? The Senator thought. He was balding man, with grey hair around his temple. Odd, in an age where modifying your hair was a trivial routine. The Senator judged he must be fan of the cinema.
"Quite a smart uniform," she said, composed. "My daughter would love it."
Garcia-Zumer said, "I heard she was in the vanguard. Is she…?"
The Senator gulped, then nodded. "She's shaken, but she was back in the Captain's cruiser. She saw everything, but she's not harmed."
He furrowed his brow. "The Captain's cruiser? I thought she was leading a platoon?"
The Senator looked down coyly and said, "I'm not quite at liberty…"
Garcia-Zumer chewed the thought, then smiled. "She's a Nose, then. Well, I'm sure you're quite proud."
"You can't imagine." She gestured at the President-Elect's badge. "Maria would be pleased to see such support from us desk-jockeys, as she'd say."
He laughed. "The Enforcers need our support more than ever, and our leadership. We cannot continue to let things in this Galaxy run its course." The President-Elect sat up in his chair.
The Senator sat up in hers as well. "I agree." The interview was beginning.
"Don't flatter me," the President-Elect said. "I understand Bridge politics, culture. You complimented my uniform because it annoys you. I am arrogant and abrasive."
She flushed slightly, then regained her composure. "Contraire, President. I admire it. Ballsy, proud, ruthless: it's exactly what we need."
The President-Elect raised an eyebrow. "Need? For what exactly?"
Playing coy. He was testing her nerve, her conviction. Did she have to have a lead-up to every statement? Come on out and say it.
"The war with Mars, sir," she said.
Garcia-Zumer glared. "War with our sister colony? That sounds slightly treasonous."
Alabastra froze. Ten long seconds passed in silence. She began to sweat. This was a set up. A way to finally get her piece out of play. This was why he was recording, why he was—
"Where do you see the future of Mars, Alabastra?"
"One with the people of Earth, in peace. Earth has its pirates and Mars has its gangs. I hope within our lifetimes all such nonsense would be passé, fading into an older—"
"I'm sorry, Alabastra," Garcia-Zumer said. "I had you mistaken for someone else."
The Senator's eyes widened. "Sir?"
"Bibi, honey, do me a favor and shutdown for me. Come back online in ten."
The soft, ambient whirring left the room. AIs were rarely noticed until they were turned off: their tinny noise fleeing, leaving the air vacant. The room felt empty.
The Senator felt the rage emanating from Garcia-Zumer. He sat forward in his chair, hands on his desk.
"I assumed the woman before me was the same woman who shirked off every bribe and shakedown for nearly three decades." He chopped the air in short swipes; his hands were knives. "A Senator with balls of bronze who connived and barreled her way through the system to get the most important piece of legislation of our lifetime passed, and sacrificed her career for the rule of law.
"Mars is ridden with crime. Gangs rule the Clouds and monsters sprawl the Sewers. Mars is sick, Senator. Infested. Infected. The people themselves are sick, grateful for their kingpin overlord. Yet, here you are, against a single piece of pushback, and suddenly you're floundering in pleasantries and pandering for world peace. Do you see this uniform? I did not invite you into my office to talk the usual Nile drivel: I am here to talk about the future of Mars. Of the Galaxy. We are not keeping the peace; we are heading for war." The President-Elect's words were ice and spittle flew from his mouth. He bared his teeth at the last word, and stared the Senator in the eye. "I want the Senator who condemned us all in her farewell address. I want the woman who tore off her collar in my lobby. That conviction, Senator, should stand—and stand loudly, proudly—regardless of who is listening, or who is watching, or what the fucking Council thinks."
The Senator sat up straight, silent.
"I ask you again, Alabastra," the President-Elect said, "where do you see the future of Mars?"
Alabstra straightened her shoulders. So, this was a test. But a much, much different kind than she had ever taken before. All eloquence, formality, left her voice as she said: "Whether with the Investigators or the Enforcers, Earth and Mars will wage war."
The President-Elect nodded, grunting. "And who with? The Martian people?"
The Senator glared into his eyes.
"Who with?" He repeated.
"We will march upon Mars and end the reign of Johnny King."
The President-Elect grinned with gritted teeth. "And the rest of the filth, too. You may not like me, Alabstra, but together…" He clenched his fist. "You the scholar, and I, the savage. Together, we will tame the beasts of Mars."
The Senator steadied her hands, which shook with nerves at the man's latent fury. In a way, his fury alarmed her; in another, she envied it. She extended her hand to the President-Elect and said, "Let's start cracking whips."
Chapter 65
Maria: Nine Days
Nine days. Maria's hair was shaggy, matted. Occasionally, when she moved her arm, a salty stench wafted from her pits to her nose. Tinges of red splotched the white of her eyes as she turned from screen to screen in her cramped office. Notes were scattered across the desk – both on the screen topping the bureau and on scraps of paper. An audio projection was the main view:
"Why are you asking me this?"…
"Answer the question, Miss Blackstone."…
Her knees buckled slightly as her head dozed to the side.
"Because I'm fucking bored…"
Three loud bangs—
She shot her eyes back open and stood up straight. She pounded the side of her desk and it whirred, producing a drizzling sound. A square on the desk unfurled and a shot glass filled with brown liquid emerged. Maria downed the coffee-shot and went back to the audio recording.
No time to sleep. No time to shower. Any day now, the Galactic Fleet could order them rockside.
On day one, she had presented the audio evidence to Arbiter DeWaller.
"Maria," he had said. "I want to get the guy as much as you do, but this is flimsy. It's easy to fake audio. This could have been from a tabloid raconteur. I won't put my name on it."
"I've matched it to voice clips from his public appearances. It's him, it's King."
"And the missing journalist?"
"An exact match." Maria stretched the truth a bit. Amy's voice had been distraught, so the vocal sample wasn't as pure as the arbiter would need. But she didn't want to give the judge an out.
"Come on," Maria plead. "You're supposed to be one of us. One of the good guys."
"I am," DeWaller said, his hologram giving Maria a firm glare. "If it doesn't bring him down, I will go down. I have a family to think of, Maria. A career, doing a lot of good. Sometimes, I'm the only one doing a lot of good."
"Arbiter, I—"
"Inspector Paige-Zuckerberg," he spoke over her. "I won't put my name on it."
Maria saluted and ended the call.
On day two, she had shown the clip to the Captain.
"This is what you've been working on?" He hadn't seemed surprised.
"What do you think?"
He rolled his eyes. "What do you want me to think, PZ? He's a scumbag, he's a sceezeball. Yada yada. But I can't steer this ship to Mars and storm his tower. That isn't how things work."
"Technically, we can. The Arbiters are a formality. We have evidence, we can produce the writ ourselves."
"Inspectors produce writs for crimes in progress. Witnessing a robbery, detecting a hacking. There is no precedent for something like this. We have always gone through Arbiters."
"But technically—"
"It's above us. Fuck the technicalities. I gave you the case before…" He paused. "Before that bomb." He stared out the window. After a few moments, he shook his head. "It's above us now. It's above us."
Maria straightened her shoulders. With the Captain's mind so frazzled, portraying dominance may sway him. "The Council won't do anything. The Council won't avenge the soldiers whose lives he's taken. It's up to us. The good guys. The few brave enough to do anything."
Halsey silent, stared out the window. "I can't start a war."
Maria placed a hand on her belt buckle, squaring her stance. "It's too late for that. He already did."
Halsey shook his head. "Maria, please. Just stop. I won't go against the Admiral. Too much is at stake. What if he has one of those aimed at Earth? What if that's the first of many?"
Maria cleared her throat. "It's like you said. Theatrics. Rules of war. My mother agrees. When you don't have much, act like you have a lot. That is his only nuke. I know it."
"Just like you know it's him in that voiceclip?" The Captain's eyes locked with hers. "No, Inspector. That's an order. No, no, no. I am not authorizing a war with King. Not without Council edict."
Maria shouldn't have used his own words against him. She felt herself shrink. "Sands and seas, Captain."
He nodded, but didn't return the salutation.
Day three she had surfed the G-Hub for connections, for any clue. She scoured tabloids and newspapers. She dived into conspiracy sites, many casting the bombing as a coverup: an engine malfunction the Council was trying to hide by blaming the Martians; an attack by rogue aliens; however, some knew it was King. She stopped herself. She was reliving it. The orange glare reflected from the ship window, the blinding flare, the molten, ashen wreckage.
Focus, she told herself. King. Blackstone. Search.
She scoured for mention of the missing journalist, even on the same conspiracy forums. A user claiming to work under Amy was posting his theories on the forum under the name DogMiner. Amy Blackstone was killed by BIG BUSINESS!! one thread title read. Another, Fire-Face threatens Blackstone. Maria clicked on the one titled Blackstone, buried by King!!! She looked over the page. The connection to GenEx, to Nexus Intelligence and several other corporate firms.
Convincing, but all hearsay. Maria messaged him to introduce herself and give DogMiner her personal IP, saying to get in contact if he could prove anything. Minutes later, the account and all its posts were scrubbed. She cursed. Either it was King or the Council working against her.
Or, he was a fraud who got scared when the cops came.
Maria plugged away the rest of the night.
She had met Ramirez on the fourth day. The ruffian was able to find some hooch and they drank the fourth day away.
At one point, he had asked her: "Any progress?"
She shook her head. Her cheeks were glowing, but her smile faded. "Fuck no. Every road's a dead end."
"Shut up. When's the last time you slept?"
"I haven't. Coffee-shots."
"For the love of sands, PZ. You're working yourself too hard. Don't fry that…" He bit his lip, considering adding a word. "…brain of yours."
She caught his eye. "I think you were missing a word there."
He smiled, cheeks even redder than before. "I'm just being stupid."
"Say it."
"That pretty little brain of yours."
She stared at him. "You're right," she said. "You are stupid."
He gently pushed her cheek, a mock-slap. She laughed.
They sat under the wing of a cruiser in the hangar. Several other parked ships, small cruisers, including the Captain's personal – a sleek, black and angular nose-shaped vehicle – surrounded them. Wasted. They should be out, wings agape, descending upon Cloud One. Maria shook her head.
"Can I help?" Ramirez placed a hand on her back.
Maria shook him off. "No, not right now. I need to think."
"Not like that," he said, recoiling. "I mean it. I want to help you. With this. With King."
Maria was surprised he knew the name. Enforcers often ignored the politics surrounding their orders. Why think about work when you aren't working?
Maybe he could help. "This is a big if, but if I wrote a writ and assaulted Kingmaker Tower, would you come with me?"
"Yes."
Maria drew back a bit. "No thinking? Just yes?"
"Absolutely."
"Why?"
He bit his lip again. Holding back words. He ended up saying, "I'm not meant to be sittin' down, Maria. I'm a killer. Born for it. I'm at home in battle. It'd be fun."
Maria almost rolled her eyes. Just say you love me, she thought. But, part of her was relieved he didn't. "How many would follow us?"
"Us?" He laughed. "You bout pissed off every rockhead on the damn ship." He clapped Maria on the back. "But I know a few who'd follow me. Roderick, Namira, Kegan."
The best Enforcers on the frigate. "Do you trust them? Would they tell the Captain?"
"Hey," he said, defensive. "Where I'm from, no matter who's in charge, every ship has the same rule: fuck the Captain."
Maria raised her flask. "Fuck the Captain."
Could they take Kingmaker Tower with a five-man squad? Ramirez was a savage, Roderick deadly accurate, Namira could stab six men in the back before the seventh noticed, and Kegan…She didn't know Kegan that well, just that he was quiet. Quiet and loyal. What was security like? King probably had half an army in the Tower.
Maria stood up, shook her head, and handed the flask to Ramirez. "I'm being stupid. Forget I said anything."
Ramirez laughed. "You just say when, Miss Nose."
"I'll sleep on it."
"I doubt that."
She slammed back coffee-shots in her office and researched well into the fifth day. Every time her neck went limp, she took a shot. Her mind raced, somehow fueled, alert by the fatigue and the chemicals. She dug through the net, messaged her mother, and found the information she was looking for: King's apartment, a decent layout of the Tower, a map of his businesses. She should expect any blueprint to be incomplete, but it was a start. His apartment. The Tower might be too big a risk, but he couldn't have more than a security system and a few guards at his highrise.
