Ephialtes (Ephialtes Trilogy Book 1) (24 page)

“People of
Mars,” he said, “you have voted today overwhelmingly to pursue a course of
Martian independence.  In full accordance with your wishes we will begin
the process of disengaging our courts, security services, military and most
importantly our business operations from their parent organisations on the old
home planet.  It is our hope and expectation that this process will
proceed with the minimum of disruption here and back on Earth.  We do not
seek to antagonise our Earth-based brothers and sisters.  We will
fully compensate all Earth corporations, particularly my own company Venkdt,
for the new fully independent operations that we will be demerging from
them.  We will pay the going market rate plus ten percent for all the
businesses, stock and tangible assets that we will be taking over.  Within
the next month we will run full elections to the new Martian senate as set out
in the proposed constitution, available for perusal on the Venkdt site and
replicated on many others.  I hope you will support those elections in the
same enthusiastic and well-informed manner that you have supported this
plebiscite.”

He paused for
breath.

“I would
like, before I finish, to remind you all of what a brave and momentous choice
you have made.  I know it was not an easy choice; I wrestled with it myself. 
But we now set off into an exciting independent future, where the only limits
are set by our imaginations.  We are at the furthest frontier of mankind’s
progression across the solar system and into the galaxy beyond.  Besides
the many resources ripe for exploitation right here on Mars - our
Mars - we are sat in prime position to exploit the asteroid
belt beyond.  We can create huge wealth for ourselves, in terms both of
treasure and experience.  We do this for ourselves, and for generations
yet unborn, of course, but ultimately we take these brave steps into the future
for all mankind.”

He paused one
final time and only now did Maya notice that the canteen, from its previous
boisterous maelstrom of noise, had fallen almost completely silent. 
Venkdt stared out from the screen and his voice seemed to catch in his throat
as he signed off.

“Thank you,
people of Mars,” he said, “and good night.”

Maya ambled
slowly back to her office, at one point passing a couple snogging up against a
wall.  In her mind she was running over possible futures and wondering if
anything would really change much.  Probably not, she told herself. 
Like Venkdt, she thought that various names on deeds and letterheads might
change but the workaday routine would continue much as it ever had. 
Venkdt had asked her to make plans for a nascent independent police force
should a ‘yes’ vote be returned.  She had been told she could split the
resources of Venkdt Security in half and form the new police service as she
best saw fit.  She had been flattered that he had put that much faith in
her ability and she was confident she was up to the job.  She had made
rough, back-of-an-envelope plans but hadn’t developed the
ideas much beyond that.  She decided as she walked that she would now have
to flesh those plans out fast and put them into practice.  She thought she
would ask for volunteers and would try to forge an alliance with the soldiers
stationed at the USAN garrison.  Her guess was that the garrison would be
resistant.  They were not Martian and would feel much more traitorous than
her own people, but she thought that co-opting them might help defuse any
potential conflicts.

When she got
back to her office she flicked through the streams, which were going crazy
now.  Her aggregator had trouble holding a single stream long enough for
her to concentrate on it.  She overrode it manually to stay on one stream
that seemed to be a little more measured than some of the others.  The
presenter, a young girl in her teens, was restreaming one of the big news
streams from Earth with her own additional commentary over it.  The Earth
reporter was jabbering seriously into the lens.  Under the teen girl’s
commentary Maya caught him saying, ‘This not going to go down well with the
Cortes New White House, where sources are telling me the foreign secretary and
the president himself are taking a very bullish stance on what they see as the
Martian Rebels.’  Maya snorted to herself.  A bullish stance is all
very well, she thought, but when you’re a hundred and forty million miles away
it loses much of its impact.

Kostovich
deftly negotiated
Venkdt’s
long-limbed secretary and slipped into the meeting late, as he almost
always did.  Venkdt was seated at the head of the table.  To his side
was Christina.  There were two more people Kostovich didn’t recognise, but
they had an air of lawyerliness about them.

He took a
seat opposite Christina.  “Sorry I’m late,” he said.  “What have I
missed?”

“Nothing
much,” said Christina, not looking up.

“We’re just
reviewing the documents,” said
Venkdt
, “crossing
every ‘
i
’, dotting
every ‘t
.’”

“Okay,” said
Kostovich.  “Do you need me for this part?”

“I suppose
not,”
said
Venkdt, “but it’s always useful to have
another pair of ears, particularly someone who’s not tied up in the legal
profession.  You know, someone with plain common sense who might catch
something obvious that we’ve missed.  I’d appreciate your sitting in.”

“Okay,” said
Kostovich, covering his mild disappointment.  He felt it was going to be a
long day.

He was given
a recap on everything that had been covered so far, then had to suffer the rest
line by line.  The lawyers, Christina included, went through the
documentation of
Venkdt’s
constitution almost a word
at a time.  They were careful to check, double check, and recheck every
possible meaning of every sentence.

The
constitution itself was short.  Venkdt stipulated that one of the
priorities for the new legislature should be to flesh out the framework of the
constitution to meet Martian needs.  The purpose of this first draft was
to be a solid bedrock on which to build for the future.

Venkdt’s
constitution was fundamentally a ‘
lite
’ version of the constitution of the USAN.  There
would be a president, a legislature and a judiciary.  The legislature
would consist of one house only, the senate.  There would be eight
electoral wards, each returning two senators.  Divvying up the planet into
wards would be a job for Kostovich; they would discuss that later.  The
senate and the president would both have executive powers.  Bills in the
senate would require a two-thirds majority and presidential assent to
reach the statute.  The president could introduce bills and these would be
subject to the same restrictions.  The senate would check the power of the
president and the president would check the power of the senate.  The
judiciary were to be appointed by the president, subject to approval by the
senate, and three senior judges would be the absolute arbiters of the law. 
The president would be commander-in-chief of the military.

At its base
it was a simple constitution, familiar in concept to anyone with even a passing
interest in Mars or the USAN.  Like any legal document it had to be framed
with great precision.  That’s why the meeting seemed to be moving so
slowly.  Kostovich’s main contribution would again be with the electoral
process.  He had his AIs split the planet - the occupied
areas consisted of Marineris and a few far flung outposts - into
the necessary wards such that, as far as possible, each ward would maintain
geographic integrity but also represent a cross-section of Martian
society; workers of different grades and, where possible, from different
industries.  Voters would have to register again for the new vote but since
this would not be a new experience for them, or for the registrars, that should
be a quick and easy process.

There were no
parties on Mars as yet.  All seats were available to be contested by all
people.  There would be crazies and attention seekers at first but it
seemed likely that only serious contenders would be returned.  Venkdt knew
that in the long run politicians would inevitably coalesce into parties, and
maybe that would work well in the future.  Right now, individuals truly
representing their electorate could only be a good thing.  Venkdt saw the
birth of the new Mars as a collegiate enterprise with everyone working together
for the common good.

The voting
date was set for early July.  Plenty of time, thought Kostovich, to prepare
everything for the election.  The short timescale would actually work in
their favour.  Coming off the wave of euphoria generated by the ‘yes’ vote
in the plebiscite, people would be likely to put themselves forward for
election in the true spirit of public duty without having time to scheme and
plot and deal.  That, of course, might come later.

The meeting
dragged on into the evening.  Kostovich eventually got his chance to speak
about the fine details of the electoral wards and the registration and voting
systems.  He was quizzed by the lawyers and gave them answers they seemed
happy to accept.

Every person
in the room knew that everything they did was essentially provisional. 
There was genuine excitement that they were breaking new ground.  They had
room to make mistakes, so long as the fundamentals of the constitution allowed
for those mistakes to be corrected further down the line.  They were
satisfied that the checks and balances they had put in place between the
executive, legislature and judiciary would protect against any abuses of power.

A little
after 19:00 Venkdt signed off the document, designated MC05/1.5.  It was
the first official draft of the newly independent Mars’ constitution.  It
would be put into full effect in a little over one month’s time.

“Congratulations
everyone,” said Venkdt, “on a job well done.”

“That wasn’t
as bad as it might have been,” said Christina.

“I think we
have a very robust document here, and a great basis to build on,” said one of
the other lawyers.

“Absolutely,”
another lawyer chimed in, “this is a very solid foundation.  Thank you, Mr
Venkdt, for your input, which helped a great deal.”

“Not a
problem,” said Venkdt, “I was just stealing from the best; an exercise in
summation, really.”

“That may be
so,” said the lawyer, “but I think this is a rock solid base from which to
build a nation.”

“I hope so,”
said Venkdt, “that was always my intention.”  He stood and offered his
hand to the two lawyers.  “Thank you, gentlemen,” he said.  “It’s
been a great honour to work with you today.”  They shook hands and,
exchanging further pleasantries, the lawyers gathered their things and
left.  Venkdt watched them go.  He sat in his chair beaming. 
Christina looked at him.

“When are you
going to announce?” she said.

Venkdt cocked
his head to one side.  He knew Christina was too smart to buy him playing
dumb.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “I guess as soon as possible.”

“Why not
now?” said Christina, nodding to
Venkdt’s
terminal.

Venkdt
frowned.  “I think I’ll leave it a day or two,” he said.  “It might
look a bit untoward announcing my intention to run for president only minutes
after I finished framing the constitution.”

“Will anyone
care?” said Christina.

Venkdt
thought.  “Probably not.  I care - a bit.  I’ll
make an announcement the day after tomorrow.”

Christina
nodded.

“Would you
like to be my campaign manager?” said Venkdt.

Christina
gulped.  “And what would that entail, exactly?”

“Well,
getting the message out there, having a big presence on the streams.” 
Venkdt struggled to think of anything else.  “Shaking babies, kissing
hands.  That sort of thing, I suppose.”

“I could do
that, I guess,” said Christina.  “What is the message?”

Venkdt took
deep breath and looked into the distance, focusing his thoughts.  “The
message is this: business as usual, stability and an orderly transfer of
power.  Openness and fairness.  And in the longer term, the drive
toward expansion.  Greater wealth, greater participation and a dynamic and
growing Martian economy.  In the very long term - I’m
talking maybe ten or twenty years - I think we should be
expanding our area of operations out into the asteroid belt.”  He thought
on that last part.  “Maybe leave that for this campaign.  Save that
for the second term, eh?”

“Second
term?  Okay.”  Christina turned to Kostovich.  “What do you
think?”

“I think
you’d be a great campaign manager,” said Kostovich.  “You’d get my
vote.”  He smiled at her trying to appear cheeky and witty.  It came
off as slightly creepy.  Christina quickly moved her attention back to her
father.

“Okay,” she
said, “I’ll do it.  Send me your manifesto and any other documents you
feel might be useful.”

“Thank you,”
said Venkdt.  “Dr Kostovich, as the returning officer I guess you will
have to stay out of this.  You’ll need to be seen to be impartial.”

“Yes, Mr
Venkdt,” said Kostovich.

“But I can
always use a sharp mind like yours.  If I win I’ll have to resign my
position here at Venkdt but I would need advisers.  It would be great to
have you along, Dan.”

Venkdt had
never called Kostovich ‘Dan’ before, and it sounded jarring to Kostovich’s
ears.  He guessed Venkdt had used it deliberately, signifying a change in
their relationship.

“I’d be happy
to serve in your administration, Mr Venkdt,” said Kostovich.

“Please,”
said Venkdt, “call me Charles.  The spirit of change is in the air. 
I think we can lose some of the old formalities.”

“Yes,
Charles,” said Kostovich.  “I think you’re right.  Change is in the
air.”

There were
few big open spaces on Mars.  Space was at a premium.  All buildings
had to be immensely strong to withstand the necessary pressurisation they had
to have.  The Martian atmosphere outside was at a pressure of about seven
or eight millibars.  Inside the pressure was about four hundred
millibars - far less than on the surface of the Earth but not
so low that human beings couldn’t cope with it.  The lower pressure meant
that buildings could be built to lower tolerances, but each building still had
to be tough enough to resist exploding or even just leaking precious air to the
outside.

In the
previous forty years or so a number of large domes had been built.  Mars
by that time had the money, resources and technical know-how to build
them.  A few were private, such as the dome where Venkdt had his house, or
the shared dome that the Karjalainen’s were a party to, but most were public
and took the form of parks.  A large dome with diameter of eighty or
ninety metres could house a small park with trees and maybe a pond or a
sculpted seating area.  These parks were the nearest thing Martians would
ever get to an outdoor space on their cold, barren and thinly
atmosphered
planet.

The largest
dome on Mars had only been open for two years.  It had a diameter of one
hundred and forty metres and used the most modern lightweight super-strength
materials and some very clever engineering to support itself.  It was
called Central Park, a historical allusion that meant nothing to most people
but seemed to tickle the architects somewhat.

Two weeks
into his election campaign Venkdt held a rally in the dome.  There was a
stage toward one side and various stalls around the edges selling snack foods
and T-shirts and hats.  ‘Vote Venkdt’ flags were not for sale; they
were free and everyone was encouraged to take one and wave it at every opportunity. 
Venkdt was due on stage at 17:00.  Currently on stage was the comedian
Oscar Mason, working the crowd like an expert.  He was wearing a ‘Vote
Venkdt’ T-shirt and pacing the stage with a microphone held closely to
his mouth.  His routine was largely observational; gentle digs at some of
the more contentious work practices at Venkdt Corp and some mockery of
prominent streamers.  Oscar Mason’s own stream was one of the most
successful on Mars.  He had a large following on Earth too, where his
shtick of bumping into things and asking strangers random and confusing
questions proved extremely popular.

At the rally
he had the crowd in the palm of his hand.  Every so often he’d make a few
rambling but seemingly serious points about Martian independence and the
upcoming presidential election, then he’d undercut his own seriousness with a
gag at the end.

“How about
that President Cortes?” he said, to whoops and hollers from the audience. 
“He’s some guy,
ain’t
he?  Somebody told me he
lost my dad’s planet.  I said no, no, no, he didn’t lose my dad’s planet
but he did lose Ma’s.”

Venkdt was
standing in the wings.  “How do I look?” he said to Christina.

“You look
fine,” she said.  “Do you have your speech?”

Venkdt pulled
a wad of notes from his pocket and held them up.  “I know it all anyway,”
he said.  “When am I on?”

“Oscar’s just
finishing up,” said Christina.  “They’re going wild for him.  I don’t
suppose you have any jokes in your speech, do you?”