A Rising Thunder-ARC (60 page)

He looked around the table again and inhaled deeply.

“So, I repeat the question. Are we in agreement that we should authorize Admiral Kingsford’s commerce and infrastructure-raiding strategy?”

No one spoke. But then, slowly, one by one, heads nodded all around the table.

* * *

The Chamber of Stars, the official meeting place of the Solarian League Assembly, was enormous. It had to be for something which seated the delegation of every single star system which claimed League membership.
Every
system was entitled to a minimum of one delegate; additional delegates were apportioned on the basis of population. The majority of delegations consisted of no more than two or possibly three members. Indeed, almost a third of all delegations boasted only a single member. More populous systems, obviously, had a greater representation, however, and the Beowulf Delegation consisted of nine members, headed by Felicia Hadley.

At the moment, all nine of those members were on the floor of the Chamber. Most were gathered around Hadley in their delegation’s box, but three of them were out circulating. The delegation’s staff reviewed every poll, clipped every editorial, and reviewed the majority of op-ed pieces every day, but Hadley was a firm believer in taking the pulse of the Assembly one-on-one and face-to-face.

Especially on days like this.

“Felicia.”

Hadley turned and found herself facing Hamilton Brinton-Massengale, the delegation’s third ranking member. He was a pleasant, unassuming man, with brown hair, a ready smile, and a certain amiable lack of focus which was highly deceptive. That made him one of Hadley’s best pulse-takers, and she felt her nerves tighten as she absorbed his expression. The usual quick smile was nowhere in evidence.

“Yes, Ham?”

“I think the rumor was right,” Brinton-Massengale said quietly. “An awful lot of people don’t seem to see me when I signal for a word.” He grimaced. “I don’t think they’ve all been struck blind, either.”

“Depends on what you mean by blind, doesn’t it?” Hadley smiled thinly.

“I made a special effort to check in with Heimdall, Cyclops, Trombone, Strathmore, and Kenichi,” Brinton-Massengale told her, and she nodded. All five of those star systems were within thirty-five light-years of Beowulf. In fact, Heimdall was barely fourteen light-years away, and all had been trading partners and (usually) political allies for decades.

“And?” she asked when he paused.

“And Routhier, Reicher, and Tannerbaum were some of the people who seem to be having vision problems. Fang Chin-wen was at least willing to exchange a few words, but I had this sense she was looking over her shoulder the entire time. In fact, the only one who seemed ready for an actual conversation was Gook Yang Kee.”

Hadley nodded again, although not happily. Kjell Routhier was one of Cyclops’ delegates. Aurélie Reicher was from Heimdall, and Charlotte Tannerbaum was from Kenichi, while Fang Chin-wen was the assistant delegation leader for Trombone and Gook Yang Kee was the junior member of the Strathmore delegation.

Hadley wasn’t that surprised about Tannerbaum, since Beowulf’s relations with Kenichi had never been particularly close. Routhier was more of a disappointment, especially after the way Hadley and her delegation had helped grease the skids for his delegation chief to meet personally with Permanent Senior Undersecretary Kolokoltsov a few T-months back. The real disappointment, though, was Aurélie Reicher. Heimdall and Beowulf did a tremendous amount of business with one another, given their proximity, and there was more intermarriage between Beowulfers and Heimdallians than almost any other star system except Manticore itself.

I don’t like the possibility that Heimdall’s decided to pull the plug on us
, Hadley thought.
Still, Reicher’s a pain in the ass on her best day. And she resents the fact that our delegation’s got two more members than hers does. Talk about petty! So it’s possible she’s simply decided on her own that there’s no point getting splashed if we’re about to get whacked
.

“What did Fang have to say?” she asked.

“Not a lot, mostly just everyday platitudes. I had the impression she was making conversation to be polite. On the other hand, that may have been for the benefit of the rest of her delegation.”

“Why do you say that?” Hadley’s eyes narrowed intently.

“Because she’s the one who told me to go have a word with Yang Kee…and she did it very quietly, when no one else from her delegation was in easy earshot.”

“Okay.” Hadley nodded in understanding.

Despite the Chamber’s size and the thousands of human beings who inhabited it when the Assembly was in session (and its members bothered to attend), its magnificent design included sound baffles around each delegation’s formal box. The baffles couldn’t completely deaden the never-ending, rustling surf of that many human voices, but it did reduce the background noise to just that—a background—within each box against which voices
inside
the box were clearly audible. So it would have made sense for Fang to babble away meaninglessly as a time killer until she could find a moment no one was close enough to overhear her.

Assuming she had something to say she didn’t want the rest of her delegation to know about, at least.

“So what did Yang Kee say when you found him?” she asked.

“Not a hell of a lot,” Brinton-Massengale replied frankly. “But that was because he didn’t
know
a hell of a lot. He says the senior members of the delegation seem worried, and nobody seems really eager to talk to any of them, either. One thing he did find out, though.”

“What?”

“He’s not on the official list, but Tyrone Reid’s going to move a special motion.”

“Yang Kee’s certain of that?” Hadley felt herself leaning towards Brinton-Massengale, her expression tight. She knew her body language was revealing too much to anyone watching her closely, but she couldn’t help it.

“As certain as he can be.” Brinton-Massengale shrugged. “You know how it is, Felicia. But he says the fix is definitely in. Reid isn’t on the Speaker’s List, but Yung-Thomas is, and Yung-Thomas is going to yield in Reid’s favor. That’s what Yang Kee had from someone on Neng’s staff.”

“I see.” Hadley thought for several seconds, then inhaled deeply. “Ham, I want you to go back to the residence.”

“Can I ask why?” There was no argument in Brinton-Massengale’s tone, but he looked surprised.

“I want an official member of the delegation, not just one of the staffers, to sit on Sir Lyman. Someone nobody with an official position is going to try to shove his way past.”

“You think somebody’s going to try to put the arm on the Ambassador?” Brinton-Massengale looked even more surprised, and Hadley shook her head.

“No, not really, but I don’t want to take any chances. Make sure you’ve entered your proxy code in my favor before you go, so I can cast your vote if I have to. Not that it’s going to do much good.”

“Sure,” Brinton-Massengale said again. He entered the appropriate code, then looked at her before leaving the delegation’s box. “What do you think this is all about? Other than something we’re not going to like, I mean?”

“It could be several things,” Hadley said grimly. “With Reid fronting for them, though, they’re probably going for something fairly heavy. Probably—” She broke off and shook her head. “No, I’m not going to speculate. We’ll know soon enough. Now scoot!”

* * *

Jasmine Neng, the Speaker of the Assembly, was a native of the Sol System (speakers tended to be chosen from mankind’s home star system). Born and raised in one of the belter habitats, she was tall and very slender with a pale complexion and striking dark eyes. She also knew exactly where the real balance of power lay in the Solarian League, or she would never have been chosen for her current position.

She sat in the Speaker’s luxurious chair at the Chamber of Star’s central podium. The Speaker’s position was a towering pinnacle mounted on a twisting, faceted column of varicolored marble—honey and cream, obsidian black and golden, warm green and umber—eight meters tall. It loomed above the closest, floor-level delegation boxes, although the upper perimeter of the Chamber rose even higher above it. The Chamber’s indirect lighting was designed to provide a soft, muted ambience under the huge, hemispherical dome of its ceiling, where Old Luna rose in the east and the glittering wealth of stars stretched out endlessly overhead. In the midst of that dim lighting, the Speaker’s marble column gleamed, picked out and illuminated by floor-mounted spotlights, and a beautifully detailed hologram of Old Terra’s blue and green globe floated above Neng’s console.

Hadley had always thought the Chamber had a beautiful, magnificent presence. And so it should, as the meeting place of the democratically elected delegates of the most powerful human nation ever to have existed. But beautiful though it was, magnificently though it had been reared, it was all a sham, and the woman sitting atop that marble spire knew it.

The delegate who’d been speaking—droning away about something one of his constituents had wanted in the ORA, the Official Record of the Assembly—came to the end of his allotted time and sat back down. Hadley had no idea if he’d finished what he meant to say, but he could always sign up for additional time and take up exactly where he’d been interrupted. It wasn’t as if most of the delegates had anything more important to do with their time.

She looked around the Chamber again. It was always difficult to tell, since many of the delegations didn’t illuminate their boxes or even chose to engage the privacy shields, but it looked to her as if more delegates were present than usual. It was normally a tossup as to whether or not there’d be enough attendees to make a legal quorum, although attendance had averaged higher since the crisis with the Star Empire had blown up. If her impression was right, however, more delegates than even that could account for were either in their boxes or wandering about the Chamber’s floor.

“Thank you, Mr. Terry,” Neng said to the delegate who’d just seated himself. She had a strong, resonant voice which always seemed a bit strange coming from such a slender frame but was probably part of the reason she’d been chosen for her position. Her hugely magnified image in the HD projection hovering just below the Chamber’s ceiling looked down at the display at her console.

“The Chair recognizes Mr. Guernicho Yung-Thomas, of Old Terra. The Honorable Delegate has requested ten minutes of the Assembly’s time. Mr. Yung-Thomas.”

Her image disappeared, replaced by that of a somewhat portly, dark-complexioned man with sandy blond hair and gray-green eyes. He was a familiar sight to most of the Assembly, and more than one of the delegates either groaned when they saw him or decided the next ten minutes would be an excellent time for them to visit the men’s room or the women’s room or something else equally important. Yung-Thomas had a veritable passion for hearing his own voice, and he could be counted upon to put his name on the Speaker’s List at least every couple of T-weeks. Worse, his seniority in the Assembly meant he usually got the time he’d requested. Which he then used to give what he fondly imagined were ringing orations on the most boring topics imaginable.

Hadley had never really understood what made Yung-Thomas tick. Did he simply want go down in history as the delegate who’d single-handedly put the most words into the Official Record? Was he trying to prove it really was possible to bore a thousand human beings to death? Or did he actually believe he was the magnificent orator he caricatured whenever he rose to speak? She didn’t know, but the fact that he was allowed to use up the Assembly’s time—whatever his motivation—was one more proof of how utterly irrelevant that Assembly truly was.

Yet today, Yung-Thomas’ expression was different. It was more intent, almost excited, and Hadley felt her nerves tightening.

“Thank you, Madam Speaker,” he said, then looked out of the HD at the Chamber floor. “I thank you for the opportunity to speak to you, my fellow Delegates, but a matter of some urgency has been brought to my attention. Accordingly, Madam Speaker, I yield the balance of my time to the Honorable Tyrone Reid.”

Neng actually managed to look a bit surprised when her image replaced Yung-Thomas’ on the HD. Perhaps acting ability had been another qualification for her position.

“Mr. Reid,” she said, “Mr. Yung-Thomas has yielded to the balance of his time to you. You have the floor.”

“Thank you, Madam Speaker. And thank you, Mr. Yung-Thomas.”

Reid’s image appeared—tall, with the bronzed complexion of a skier and yachtsman, carefully arranged black hair, and Nordic blue eyes which Hadley knew (although she wasn’t supposed to) he’d had altered from their original brown coloration. He was certainly physically impressive. She’d give him that. And the newsies loved him.

“Fellow Delegates,” he said now, his deep voice grave, his expression somber, “I apologize for coming before you under somewhat irregular circumstances. I realize this time is officially designated for addresses to the Assembly, not for the transaction of business. Nonetheless, I feel I must claim privilege for an emergency motion.”

The background murmur of conversations ebbed suddenly. It didn’t quite cease—Hadley couldn’t conceive of anything short of a kinetic weapon strike that could have accomplished that!—but it certainly dropped to one of the lowest levels she’d ever heard. Not surprisingly. There were very few circumstances under which a motion took privilege over the scheduled addresses from the Speaker’s List.

“May the Chair ask the basis for your privilege claim, Mr. Reid?” Neng asked.

“The basis for my privilege claim, Madam Speaker, is a threat to the security of the Solarian League,” Reid replied soberly. “And a grave matter of constitutional law.”

The silence intensified, and Hadley had to restrain a sharp, fierce bark of laughter. Constitutional law? Kolokoltsov and his accomplices were suddenly concerned about
constitutional law?
If the idea hadn’t made her want to vomit, it would have been hilarious.

“The Honorable Delegate has requested privilege for a motion on the basis of a threat to the League’s security,” Neng intoned. “Does anyone second his request?”