Picking Up the Pieces

Chapter Eight

I had been nervously expecting trouble on Election Day. The grapevine among the other mercenary companies — although I would not have willingly classed myself among their number — suggested that elections could be deadly dangerous, particularly if the political situation was volatile. I cancelled all leave, kept the troops on alert, and waited for the explosion. Nothing happened. The voters flocked to the voting booths, watched by the local reporters who made a habit of filming brief interviews with the voters after they left the booth, and politicians made their final speeches. It was surprisingly peaceful. A handful of bar fights broke out afterwards in the darker areas of New Copenhagen, but the police broke them up without trouble.

“The real trouble will probably come when they finish counting the votes,” TechnoMage commented, and he was right. The Svergie Constitution ordained a day for the election and another day for the votes to be counted up, with Inauguration Day following two days afterwards. I kept a close eye on the reporters as they counted results, cursing whoever had invented the system under my breath. It was becoming increasingly obvious that the Progressives had swept the board.

The system probably hadn’t been rigged by design, but that was the general result. The Councillors won by right of majority; a Councillor could be one vote ahead of his opponent and still win with ease. Worse — if that were possible — all of the political parties, and not a few independents, were standing for election in each of the voting districts. The vote was going to be bitterly divided, I decided. It was quite possible that someone would be voted into power with only twenty percent of the population behind him. Given careful planning and not a little deviousness, the political parties could position their resources for the greatest effect, but some were more successful than others. The Progressives and Communists were unpopular out in the rural areas, while the Conservatives were grossly unwelcome in the lower-class districts. The more I thought about it, the more I realised the irony. The original inhabitants of the planet had created a system that allowed their planet to be stolen from right under their collective nose.

“The Progressives seem to have won twelve seats for definite and probably two more when they finish counting,” Russell said. Democracy is almost a religion on Heinlein — which I always thought was a little odd, seeing that each voter had to endure two years of military service to earn the franchise — and he was enjoying watching a very different democracy at work. I had a private theory that he was secretly taking notes for a research paper after he gave up the mercenary business. “They’re the winners, boss.”

“I know,” I said, shaking my head. “I expected as much.”

“The odd thing is who didn’t get elected,” Russell added. “The Communists lost their seat to the Progressives and a couple of independents got elected. They’re calling for a recount now and shaking their fists, but unless there was massive fraud on a citywide scale I think they’re going to be refused. They’re not going to take this lying down.”

I ran my hand through my hair. I’d actually allowed it to grow out too far over the last few weeks and I hadn’t had time to go for a haircut. I should have gone to one of the training barbers, but I had my pride, damn it! Russell was right, of course; hell hath no fury like a group of political radicals convinced that ‘The Man’ had deprived them of their rightful place.

“They might decide to cause trouble,” I agreed. It wasn’t easy to see which way they’d jump. Would they remain quiet and support the Progressives, or would they see the Progressives as a sell-out and start a civil war? There was no way to know what their leadership was thinking, but I doubted that it was anything calm and tranquil. The Communist Militia — or the Vanguard of Workers Freedom, as they called it — was still drilling with captured UN weapons. I doubted they’d be a real threat in the open, but as a terrorist force they could be formidable. “Get the intelligence staff to keep a close eye on them and warn me if they look like they’re going to do something stupid.”

It took them another day to make it official, but the results weren’t really in doubt. The Progressives had claimed fourteen seats, with another five going to the Conservatives, one to the Liberty Party and one to an independent. I made a mental note to try to speak to that independent as soon as possible; I wouldn’t have put it past the Communists, or someone else, to have him assassinated just to reopen the seat. Svergie had no automatic system of succession for Councillors; they’d have to go through an emergency election to select his successor. Perhaps he’d be interested in a bodyguard and some personal protection.

Suki seemed to take the news with remarkable dispassion. Her brief stint on the training ground had convinced her that regular exercise was more than just healthy and when I didn’t need her, she was often to be found training with one of the female unarmed combat experts or practicing on the shooting range. I had grown quite fond of her in a way, although I refused to allow her through my defences, or accepted her offers of companionship in the night. I still wasn’t sure just who she was working for, or what her orders might have been. She didn’t seem to be sending any messages off-base, but that proved nothing. There were plenty of clever spies out there.

“They’re inviting you and a couple of your men to watch the inauguration ceremony,” she said, when she came bursting into my office. She wasn’t much good at the clerical work, but she could handle almost everything else I might want her to do. We’d also started training up a staff of local clerks to assist with building the army, although I had made it damn clear that they weren’t commissioned officers and never would be commissioned officers unless they went through Basic Training and served a term in the infantry. “Are you going to go?”

“I don’t seem to have a choice,” I said, curtly. The President’s gift of General’s rank was something of a double-edged sword. It made me senior officer in the planetary army, but at the same time it doubled my duties, not least because I couldn’t combine my roles. If I had integrated the Legio Exheres into Svergie’s Planetary Army, we’d lose all of our independence. Fleet would not be amused. John would definitely not be amused. It also meant that I had to attend ceremonies that meant nothing to me. At least no one had asked me to kiss babies.

“You could spend the day at the beach instead,” Suki suggested, with a wink that probably qualified as a lethal weapon on some more conservative worlds. “Take the day off and enjoy yourself.”

I snorted. “If we get through the next week without violence, I’ll seriously consider it,” I promised. I was overdue for a holiday myself and, unlike the lower ranks, I couldn’t go out and pick fights with the street toughs. The only relief I had was sparring with Peter, Russell and Ed and there was nothing unpredictable in that. “A time to relax would be lovely.”

Inauguration Day dawned brightly as the city came to a halt. The day was a planetary holiday almost everywhere — the staff at hospitals and other critical posts were not allowed to take the day off — and most of the streets were full of people partying. The massive government-issue car that had been sent for me, Peter and Suki — I’d decided to take her purely on the spur of the moment — had problems negotiating its way through the crowded streets. I saw happy young men and women courting in the sunlight, some of them making it all the way to third base in the shadows, while entertainers danced and sang old songs in a language I didn’t recognise. A handful of costumed characters paraded past the car, followed by hundreds of children grasping sweets, and I felt my heart twist suddenly. On Earth, there had been no time to be a child, with all that that implied. I had never played without fear, or walked to school without escort, but on Svergie children could sing and play as much as they liked. What would I have been, I wondered, if I had grown up in an environment that was truly safe?

“There’s no point in worrying about what might have been,” Peter said, when I expressed my thoughts aloud. “Besides, would you want to follow a giant cuddly bear with very little brain?”

“I’ll think about it,” I said, shaking my head. The children following the bear, even the younger teenage girls, showed no sign of fear. The teens wore skirts that would have been an open invitation to rape on Earth, but here… here, it was safe. I felt another pang for the boy I could have been and silently cursed the UN under my breath. Earth was entering terminal decline. I wouldn’t have gone back there if they’d paid me with enough coin to buy a whole planet.

“That’s sad,” Suki said, seriously. “Everyone says that Earth is a paradise.”

I snorted. “Have you ever been there?” She shook her head. “I had two sisters when I was a boy. They were both raped several times as they entered their teens. They were lucky; they didn’t get pregnant. They all knew who did it, but when my sister took it to the police, they raped her as well. My younger sister married when she was fourteen and had a child a year until she was twenty-five. Three of them died before they reached their first birthday because of poor medical treatment. The others probably died when Earth started to come apart at the seams.”

Suki stared at me, her face torn by outright horror. “But… that’s terrible!”

“Yes,” I said darkly. The irony was that there were people with far worse stories than I. “It also happened.”

She was silent as the car finally drew into the Inauguration Stadium. It had been built during happier times and served only one purpose, a place where the new candidates could take their seats and be applauded by the people, even those who had voted for the other guy. The building behind it served as the first ceremonial meeting place and was, I think, the tallest building in the city. The hordes of reporters surrounding it looked large enough to occupy the entire building all by themselves. I spotted hundreds of policemen trying vainly to keep order and a handful of soldiers from the 1^st Svergie. I’d tried to talk the President into having more security, but he’d refused, citing concerns about not appearing a dictator. The entire building was far too open for me.

“Try to keep a smile on your face,” I said, as the car parked, exposing us to the lenses of the cameramen. I’d have preferred to avoid photographs entirely, but it would have been impossible, unless I ordered some of the cameramen killed. They weren’t UN-approved reporters, to be fair, but they seemed to have the same pushy personality, although they did have more basic intelligence. The UN reporters tended to write their stories before actually finding out anything about what was going on, or why. If truth happened to disagree with their written work… well, so what? “Failing that, try not to kill anyone.”

Suki slipped her hand into mine as the flashbulbs flickered. It was another reminder of how primitive Svergie actually was; they didn’t have holographic cameras or even equipment that didn’t need flashlights. They were even back to using newspapers rather than datapads, although they had an expanding television industry. They’d probably reinvent plenty of other technology in the near future. Her dress was cut so short that they probably got an eyeful every time she bent over even slightly. I hoped they enjoyed the view. My own stunning good looks couldn’t compete.

“Welcome,” a harassed-looking usher said. “General and lady, you’re on the main stage over there, behind the Council Chairs and the President’s table. Can I show you there?”

“Of course,” I said, graciously. I should have tipped him, but I couldn’t be bothered. I looked around for the President, hoping to see a friendly face, but all I saw were reporters, civilians and Frida Holmqvist, who smiled at me from her chair. As someone who had retained her seat, she was already seated along with two others. “Lead on, my good man.”

The President might have been re-elected, but no one seemed to have any doubt that he was a lame duck. I listened absently to conversations that suggested that the Conservatives were considering resigning completely from the Council, or making deals with various factions of the Progressives, while the Progressives themselves seemed to be having trouble in the ranks. They’d stayed together while they’d been weak, but now they held most of the cards, cracks were starting to seep in. The Conservatives would be going fishing in troubled waters, but if Frida knew — or cared — she gave no sign. Her face was touched by victory.

Good luck, I thought, sardonically. The entire planet was perched on a knife-edge. You’re going to need it.

A trumpeter started to play a single series of notes and the crowds quietened down, almost by magic. I listened absently as the music swelled up into a single tune — the planet’s anthem, I guessed — and finally dimmed down to a single note. When it faded away and vanished, no one, not even me, could have said when it vanished. The silence seemed almost complete, broken only by the birds cawing in the distance. Even the reporters were silent.

An elderly woman stood up and slowly made her way to the podium, but instead of taking a place behind it she stood beside it. She wore red robes that marked her out as a High Court Judge, one of the three most senior Judges on the planet. I hadn’t met her, but I’d heard that she’d read and approved the ROE we’d operate under, if it came down to war. She hadn’t raised silly issues or tried to turn us into a glorified police force, unlike some of the others. That suggested, at least, that she knew what she was doing.

“The second election since the withdrawal of the UN occupation forces has just been completed,” she said, her voice ringing in the silence. The stadium had been designed to carry her voice to every ear. “The votes have been counted. The irregularities have been checked. The results, finally, have been reported. On this day, the new Councillors take their position. Give them great honour, as they deserve.”

The crowd started to clap as the first new Councillor appeared from the side and stepped onto the stage. The clapping only seemed to grow louder, more like a beat than spontaneous applause. It took me a moment to realise that it was part of the ceremony, a reminder of the power of mob rule, and how quickly a Councillor could lose the respect of his people. The power to elect was also the power to dispose. I watched as they seemed to flinch back from the display of power, before taking their seats and pretending that it wasn’t affected them at all. Inanely, I found myself thinking of a wedding, and smiled. This marriage wouldn’t work out perfectly, nor would they live happily ever after.

“Councillors, you have been elected to represent the will of the people,” the Judge said. “Do you swear to uphold the honour of your office, to act with courage and compassion, wisdom and mercy, to serve as the governing body of this planet? Do you swear — or do you chose now to refuse to accept the honour, knowing that you are unworthy?”

“We accept,” the Councillors said. I smiled to myself. Who would refuse after all the hard work they’d done trying to get elected. “We swear…”

The oath seemed to take forever, but finally they were all sworn in. “The President has been re-elected,” the Judge concluded. This time, the cheers and clapping were much more spontaneous. “Welcome him back for another term of office.”

I saw the President emerge from the rear of the stadium and make his way through the crowd and climb onto the stage. He looked as if he had aged overnight, yet his footsteps were firm and his eyes were bright. I didn’t envy him his position — the Progressives could ram whatever they wanted past him — yet I suspected part of him was enjoying the challenge. He might even beat the Progressives at their own game.

He stood behind the podium and lifted a hand for quiet. “The UN was forced to leave our world,” he said, into the sudden silence. His voice was calm and very dignified. “We are no longer faced with the problems of war. We won the war and now, like an animal who has escaped from the zoo, we are faced with the question of deciding what to do about it. We are free.

“We are…”

A single shot ran out.

As I watched in horror, the President stumbled and collapsed.