“Melissa, can you confirm the reports coming in from Klameth Canyon?”
“The Assembly is trying to get confirmation on that, Bill. We know an attack was made, tonight, since Vittori Santorini referred to it, himself, in his interrupted broadcast. He admitted that an attack was underway and referred to it as a ‘final solution’ to the Granger problem, just before the attack on the Palace.”
“Is the Assembly under direct attack?”
“No, it’s tense here, but no shots have been fired. Assembly Hall has been surrounded by Urban Freedom Force soldiers. We can see heavy artillery out there, what looks like missile launchers and mortars. But there’s been no attack on the Hall and no one in the Assembly has been injured.”
“Is that due to the vigilance of P-Squad officers assigned to protect the Assembly? We can’t see too well from the studio what’s happening outside the Joint Chamber.”
“There was only a skeleton crew of security guards on duty, tonight, Bill. Most of the federal police assigned to guard the Assembly were caught in the attack on the P-Squad station across the street. That station is gone. There’s nothing left but smoking rubble.” The camera shifted, showing the gutted station while Melissa’s voice-over continued. “Thousands of P-Squad officers were pulled out of Madison for duty at Maze Gap, trying to breach Klameth Canyon’s defenses while the Bolo was down for repairs. Those officers have not returned from the siege. With the destruction of seventeen P-Squad stations, tonight, there aren’t enough federal police left to mount an effective guard over the Assembly. The few troops available are guarding Vittori’s Palace, so we can only assume the president is alive and in need of those guards.”
“Has the Urban Freedom Force sent any demands to the Assembly?”
“No, they haven’t, Bill. No demands, just one brief message. They said, and I quote, ‘The reign of terror ends tonight. Do not try to leave Assembly Hall and you will not be harmed. Anyone caught trying to leave will be shot. Your presence is required to ensure a smooth transition in the government of this world.’ ”
“A smooth transition of government? That doesn’t sound like a terrorist’s usual demands.”
“That’s an important point, Bill—”
“Melissa, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Bill spoke quickly, “but we’re getting priority feed from P-News Headquarters. Senator Melvin Kinnety and Representative Cyril Coridan are in the P-News studio, indicating they have an important announcement to make.”
The view shifted, showing the familiar backdrop of the P-News Studio. Three men sat in front of the cameras. Cyril Coridan, Speaker of the House of Law, looked like a man who’s seen the inside of hell. Melvin Kinnety, President of the Senate, sat in a bony huddle, just staring blankly at the cameras. Pol Jankovitch was white to the roots of his hair. The way he looked, his hair would be turning white, as well — possibly by morning. The man with the golden tongue was having difficulty using it. It took him three tries to find his voice.
“Pol Jankovitch, here. Speaker Coridan, you had an announcement for our viewers, concerning tonight’s state of emergency?”
“Yes, Pol,” he said, voice unsteady, “I do. I can’t tell you how shocked I am by what I have learned, tonight. Senator Kinnety and I were on our way to Assembly Hall when we were detained by urgent reports coming out of Klameth Canyon. We were already investigating allegations of massive civil-rights violations and murder at the work camps throughout Jefferson, but what has happened tonight passes beyond all moral and ethical bounds into the realm of atrocity. We have hard and fast proof that nearly half a million helpless civilians have been massacred tonight, on direct orders from Vittori Santorini.”
The camera angles switched again, showing the view from Kafari’s own surveillance cameras, which had caught the brutal attack for the whole world to see. And Simon was making damned certain that the whole world did see. In all its technicolor brutality. She couldn’t watch the screen. Couldn’t witness it again.
Speaker Coridan’s voice was shaking. “As Speaker for the House of Law, the highest elected official in the House, I denounce, utterly and without reservation, the man who ordered this atrocity against humanity. Vittori Santorini is a renegade. A dangerous madman. As Speaker, I urge Vittori to resign as Jefferson’s president and surrender himself for medical evaluation. Surrender, Vittori, before more helpless people die in our beautiful capital.”
The President of the Senate, voice shaking even more violently than the Speaker’s, parroted the same line. Kafari watched in stunned amazement, wondering how many rifles were trained at their heads, from just off-camera.
Pol Jankovitch, watching his own meteoric career crumbling to ashes around him, managed to pull himself together with visible effort. “Is there any hope, Mr. Speaker, that there will be survivors in Klameth Canyon?”
“My staff has been working desperately, trying to uncover evidence of what kind of war agent may have been used, out there. We don’t know, yet. We’re still trying to find out. There are no rural shelters comparable to the ones in our urban centers. Some private houses may have had shelters, but God knows if anyone in that canyon made it into them in time. We may not know that for hours. But you may rest assured, Pol, that we will not rest until we have learned exactly what Vittori used on those poor people.”
“Is there danger to other communities?”
“Again, we don’t know. We’re trying to find out. I would urge the immediate evacuation of any communities or households downwind of Klameth Canyon. Fortunately,” he added, “the prevailing winds are carrying the compound into the Hell-Flash Desert east of the Damisi, which has almost no population for hundreds of kilometers. We can only hope that Vittori’s mad obsession with destroying the Granger-led rebellion has not led him to release something that will persist long enough to reach the population centers of Anyon, Cadellton, and Dunham. Those towns have already been hit hard by unemployment and poverty. To think that Vittori may have put those people at risk, as well…”
“Holy shit,” Phil said reverently, “that is the slickest move I’ve ever seen! Those assholes are gonna be so busy tryin’ to run outta th’ way a’ that gas, they won’t have time t’ think about startin’ riots or headin’ t’ Madison t’ give Vittori a hand. That Colonel Khrustinov is one bad-ass brilliant kinda’ guy!”
“Thanks,” Kafari said drily.
Phil turned his biosuited face toward her. “Well, you was smart enough t’ get him out here, wasn’t you?”
She couldn’t help it. She started to laugh. Yalena was grinning fit to crack her face in half. “Phil, you don’t know the half of it. All right, let’s see what else my bad-ass brilliant colonel has up his sleeve.”
Over the next several hours, the balance of power shifted wildly, as city after city scrambled to distance itself from “the mad Vittori” and his “final solution.” Phil’s prediction held true, as panic set in amongst the urban centers that had swept Vittori to power, emptying the cities in evacuations that tied up P-Squad units. The federal police were run ragged, trying to keep looting and rioting to a minimum while hundreds of thousands of terrified urban residents fled the wind-borne threat Vittori had unleashed against them.
Phil went teary-eyed when his sister Maria and her children — the boy Kafari had rescued from the death camp and a teen-aged daughter — appeared on camera, speaking directly to the urban masses. Maria assured viewers that the capital city was in the hands of urban freedom forces whose sole interest was justice and the rule of law.