“Garm’s ticket,” the husband stated.
“But it was dead people, right?”
“It was the ticket that the owner of Belvaille had constituted,” the wife said slowly, as if she were speaking to a child.
“I know that. But you understand they were all dead?”
Did they not want to admit it? They shifted uncomfortably, as if I had said something distasteful. What, did rich people not die?
“Is there any time frame you’re looking at, Mr. Secretary?” the wife smiled.
I threw up my hands—not my arms—which was as much effort as they were going to get from me.
“I’m working on it. I need to put down a few revolutions.”
“Of course you do,” the husband grinned, like I was the most precious thing.
Ah! These people were such asses.
I gladhanded another fifty people. They alternately felt me up and acted patronizing.
“Supreme Kommilaire, I wonder if you might tell me some of the companies or gangs that are going to be entering the Belvaille Confederation soon.”
It was spoken simply, with the man’s last words nearly drowned as he took a sip from his glass.
But the entire block at once grew silent.
It was such a noticeable change that I looked around and expected to see we were under attack from some Servants Liberation terrorist wing or something.
Instead, everyone was just standing there frozen. Pretending not to be listening to me but practically taking their ears off and putting them by my lips.
Oh.
If they knew which companies were going to join the Confederation, they would be able to invest in them early and make a killing. I hadn’t thought of that. I needed to monitor what I said from now on.
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to divulge that information at this point,” I stated woodenly. “However, efforts are well underway to make as smooth a transition to a city that is—”
And I ran out of bubbly stuff to say. Everyone was standing there listening, their wallets burning in their pockets as I spewed gibberish.
“Independent and… vital… and stable…”
I was waving my hands now, hoping I might be able to fly away or at least cause some distraction.
“To gather the full… strength of the city… into one undivided… union.”
Pause.
And then everyone applauded!
They practically got in fistfights over who could shake my hand first and touch my shoulders.
Did these people simply not listen to anything? They were all tickled about electing a bunch of dead candidates to office, so maybe my fumbling speech was spectacular by comparison.
Bolstered by my success saying absolutely nothing, I seized the moment and took my place at the front of the block.
I would have liked to be on a raised platform so I could be seen easier but I would have also liked to not weigh nine tons.
Everyone stood at attention and seemed quite interested.
“Right,” I began. “As some of you may know, we have created a Belvaille Confederation—”
Applause.
“I’d just… I’ll just ask you to hold your applause until the end. I still need to go do Kommilaire stuff after this.”
Some small applause and shushes.
“So the city, Belvaille is your city. You are its key citizens. Its parents, if you will. Your good judgment, wisdom, and generosity are paramount to keeping the city operational for generations to come.”
Applause. And shushes. And angry back-talking to the shushers.
“Because you have the means to support yourselves that is in far excess of the normal, lowly citizens of Belvaille, your broad shoulders are capable of bearing a larger burden.”
I was hoping for some applause but it was silent.
“Um. So I’m proposing a…” I stared out at them and knew I couldn’t use the word tax. “A contribution,” I said. “To the City Fund. It shall be used to repair, replace, and renovate the city. Such as the docks, port, the telescopes, and the latticework. We need to build schools and hospitals and shelters in the west if we ever want to permanently remove the feral blight. In short, we need capital to not only live, but to live well.”
It was very quiet for a long while.
“Look, we’re on a space station. A pile of money won’t do you any good if we’re all floating dead in the void.”
The silence was replaced with murmuring. My years of experience with court trials would say it was generally negative, but not outright hostile.
Fine, let them bellyache for a while. It still had to be done.
“An interesting speech, Supreme Kommilaire,” a gorgeous older woman said.
She had several male servants behind her and it looked like she shopped at the same twink emporium that Delovoa used.
“Thanks,” I said, hoping to stay for as little time as possible.
“It’s no wonder Garm places such confidence in you,” she said offhandedly.
“What?”
“I’m rather surprised you aren’t part of her ticket, but maybe you have something already arranged?” she hinted. “Though she didn’t mention anything.”
“When did you speak with Garm?” I asked, trying to remain calm.
“I suppose… Clorish, when did I last visit City Hall?” she said, addressing one of her servants.
The handsome man bowed.
“I would have to check, M’lady, but I believe it was three weeks ago,” he answered stiffly.
“And how often do you visit her?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t say more than once every three months. She’s very busy. But of course you know that. She entertains only the most important families. The most parental, to use your own wording.”
“Of course,” I said. “And what did you all talk about? I just want to make sure she’s not giving away any of my secrets.”
“Oh,” the woman said, alarmed. “She did mention you were working on solving the feral child, feral people issue.”
“That I was?” I asked.
“She didn’t say you, personally. She said your Kommilaire were.”
CHAPTER 65
After a month of trying to pin down the Totki I finally got a tipoff where they would be: from the Totki who came to my front door.
“We fight you!” The rat-faced little twerp said. Actually, that was racist. But he was very small and his face shared the characteristics of a rodent.
He was flanked by MTB and Valia and a dozen other Kommilaire to ensure he wasn’t up to any trouble. Or, any more trouble than threatening my life.
“Where and when?” I asked.
“Three day. Avenue With No Name. We give it name: ‘Hank Dead and Su Dival Avenge name’!” He said.
“Well, that will be a cumbersome street name. But fine,” I said.
There was a long road in the west that had once been Lin-Ling Avenue named for a powerful gang boss. But he had gotten into a war with another boss, whose name I forget, and he lost. The winner, in retribution, cut the first part off all the street names, with the goal of renaming them after himself. But he was killed shortly after and the avenue remained with half a sign ever since.
When the Totki left, MTB and Valia shared their concerns.
“You know they’re going to be prepared, Boss,” MTB said.
“Yeah, you shouldn’t go,” Valia added.
“Or at least let the Kommilaire join you. You can’t trust your Militia,” MTB said. He had not approved of me releasing everyone we worked so hard to capture.
“The Militia will never work with the Kommilaire, you know that. And this is my chance to get the Totki. I’m sure they have something planned, but I’ll just have to be careful. I’ll tell you what, get some Kommilaire and put them in plainclothes and do reconnaissance of the Avenue. Look for anything out of the ordinary, like a giant ladle suspended above the street that pours molten steel.”