With my newfound confidence, I decided to meet them head on.
CHAPTER 59
“We would like to thank you for taking the time to speak with us today, Mr. Secretary,” Rendrae said to me deferentially. “We’re all very impressed with the reforms you’ve made lately. I personally am astonished by what has transpired so quickly.”
Rendrae loved me. I was walking, talking, belching news. The chief of law enforcement and the wealthiest man in the city. If I was better looking, I’d almost be too much news to broadcast, the loudspeakers couldn’t handle it.
Rendrae was practically dancing around, he was so excited. He was remarkably light on his feet for a portly fellow.
“I have just one thing to say,” I began, into the microphone. “Anyone caught out after curfew carrying weapons or in groups larger than five people, will be considered enemies of Belvaille and killed on sight. The civil war is over! It is time for this city to rebuild and move on. You can keep your grudges and keep your bigotry, but if you act on them, you’ll find yourself a corpse floating in space.”
Rendrae was momentarily at a loss for words.
“That’s… that’s… quite, uh, how do you intend to carry out this action? My understanding is there are only several hundred Kommilaire at your command. My sources have indicated there are many thousands of hooligans about the city.”
“I’ve made my statement. No one can declare ignorance,” I said.
“Of course. Again, we wish to thank you for stopping by, and if there is anything else you ever want to discuss, I’d be more than happy to assist you in relaying your message.”
The expectant, desperate eyes of the Royal Wing stared at me.
“Did you read our Constitution?” Uulath asked. “What did you think of it?”
“Nah, I didn’t read it. It was too long,” I said.
The crowd of about a hundred people sagged almost to oblivion. They knew it! I was just getting their hopes up only to dash them like the cruel bastard I was. They would die on the Royal Wing with no chance of ever leaving.
No one spoke, they were probably afraid I’d only use it as an excuse to make their lives even more terrible.
“I got another idea,” I said. “I’m going to give you all weapons and have you become my Belvaille Militia. I need to fight the various groups on the station and I expect a lot of killing.”
Uulath blinked at me, scratching his chin. It was almost like saying I was giving them leave to try and swim back to Belvaille.
“Uh, how does that work, exactly? Your Eminence,” Uulath quickly added.
“That’s it. We’ll give you guns and knives and clubs and whatever else we have lying around. I’ll lead you personally. We walk around, and if we see some Order hanging out causing trouble, we kill them.”
All the prisoners were looking at each other. Was this some trick?
“We’re going back to Belvaille?” one person asked.
“Yeah, but I had Delovoa design some security belts,” I said, holding up a synth belt for them to see. “If you try and take it off or go too far away from me, it explodes.”
Uulath was tapping his fingers trying to understand.
“Sir, not to be disrespectful, but we’ll get massacred. Those are trained fighters in many cases. We haven’t even had a proper meal in years—not that we’re complaining about the food!”
“Yeah. I suspect a number of you will die,” I nodded.
“Forgive me,” a prisoner began meekly, “but why would we want to do this? As difficult as the Royal Wing is, we aren’t getting torn apart by chainsaws.”
“Oh, I forgot to say. For those of you who survive and assist in putting down the dissidents, you will receive a full pardon. We’ll worry about that Constitution stuff some other time. I need an army. I’m not going to force anyone to participate. If you want to stay here, stay here. What better way to prove you’re ready to re-enter Belvaille society than by fighting for your city?”
“Can you do that?” Uulath asked.
“Do what?”
“Pardon all of us at once.”
“Sure, why not?” I said. “I’m rich.”
CHAPTER 60
I came to the entrance of the Belvaille Athletic Gentleman’s Club, saw the sign, and grumbled as usual.
Wait a minute.
“Dample,” I said to the coat check. He almost fainted because I was addressing him directly.
“Yes, sir. Uh, Mr. Secretary. Supreme Kommilaire,” he bumbled.
“I’m thinking, the sign outside. It’s kind of lame. I think this should just be the Gentleman’s Club,” I said. “Send me up some sandwiches.”
I was far down the hall when I heard his distant voice answer.
“Yes, sir!”
My booth in the club had been refurbished. It was still the same mass of metal, but it had been polished to a shine and there was a velvet rope around it.
I plopped down and the Dredel Led server came by immediately with a bucket of beer and two trays of sandwiches.
“On the house of course,” it buzzed, and then zipped away.
The club fairly stopped as I sat there eating. I could tell all the gang bosses wanted to come over and talk to me, but weren’t so bold as to do it. So they were trying to discreetly get in my field of view hoping I would invite them over.
After about fifteen minutes everyone was congregated on one side of the club, facing me. They talked in loud voices and gestured broadly. It was slightly ridiculous.
“Hank,” Jorn-dole said, sitting down with a pleasant smile.
I hadn’t seen the handsome blond in months. It was amusing that he was the bravest one out of all these thugs. He probably didn’t know he was supposed to be impressed with my new wealth.
“How are you?” I asked him, working on the second tray of food.
“I’m great. Great. The city seems quite different.”
“Does it?”
“Well, yeah,” he said. “I won’t say it’s a lot safer, but it is some. How do you feel?” he asked.
“Feel? What do you mean?”
“Are you well?” He seemed concerned.
“I got pulled by a train a while ago. I recommend not doing that.”
“Did you go to the hospital?”
“No, he came to me. But there’s not a lot they can do. I’m kind of on my last bullet at this point in my life. I mean, they can scrape off the rust and oil the gun, but I still only have one bullet left.”
“You spoke of retiring not long ago. Is that still in the works?”
“Did I?” I asked. “I was probably just complaining. I usually don’t mean half of what I say. I’m just exercising my tongue. No, I’m pretty sure I’ll die on the job. I like the idea of them trying to figure out what to do with my carcass.”
Busange, the man from The Murderers gang, sat uneasily at my booth.
I’d say he kept his eyes to himself, but he only had one eye.
“I don’t get what you’re asking,” he said.
“I want to hire you guys.”
“But you’re not paying anything? And you want us to fight everyone in the whole damn city?”
“Not exactly. I want you to train my new Militia from the Royal Wing—”
He snorted at that.
“Those guys will kill us for sure. Or run away at least.”
“No, I have security belts,” I said. “They’ll explode.”
“So they’re walking around strapped with explosives?”
“Delovoa invented them, they’re fine,” I said.
“Oh.” He seemed appeased. “But what do we get? How can I convince everyone to do this? The Murderers aren’t a normal gang with a boss who barks and we all jump. I do the talking because I don’t mind. But everyone is their own agent.”