The president’s next words, harsh with strain, slashed through his distracted thoughts and left him stunned. “You know I’m commander in chief of Jefferson’s entire military structure. I’ve taken advantage of that. Now, while there’s still time to act. I’ve given you a promotion to Colonel in Jefferson’s Defense Forces. Sector Command has agreed to sanction it.”
Simon felt his eyes widen. Then he frowned as the import of that final sentence came home. “The Brigade sanctioned it? I don’t understand, sir. I’ve done my duty, here, nothing more. Certainly nothing the Brigade would consider meritorious enough to warrant that kind of promotion.”
Shadows lurked behind Abe Lendan’s eyes. “Let’s call it a precautionary measure and leave it at that.”
The chill gripping Simon deepened. What the hell did this man know that Simon didn’t, yet? Lendan spoke abruptly again, voice rasping with some violent emotion Simon couldn’t quite pin down. “If I could’ve, son, I’d have given you a generalship, but that’s a rank beyond my legal authority to grant. We took to heart lessons learned on old Terra. We chose carefully and wisely when we modeled our constitution and named this world for the man who drafted the original model. Military dictatorships are anathema to us.”
Simon’s lips twitched, despite the gravity of the situation. He’d raised an eyebrow at one of the clauses, which had read, essentially, The right of the people to keep and bear arms for self-defense and defense of the homeland shall never be infringed, limited, rescinded, interfered with, or prohibited by any decree of law, decision by court, or policy by the executive branch or any of its agencies. And this time, we mean it.
Kafari had told him, with typical Jeffersonian fire, that many Grangers felt the clause didn’t go far enough. He certainly hadn’t been inclined to argue the point. Not after some of the disasters he’d seen, on worlds he’d fought to protect. He’d seen worlds where the Concordiat had revoked treaties, due to massive human rights violations. No, he hadn’t felt like arguing the point at all.
President Lendan tapped restless fingertips against his desktop, staring for long moments into Simon’s eyes, as though trying to read his thoughts. Or, perhaps, trying to decide how much more to say. His deep-set eyes narrowed slightly, then he spoke again, evidently having reached a decision. “Fortunately, your authority and your paycheck come directly from the Brigade’s Sector Command, Colonel. That may prove to be critical, down the road. And I don’t like saying that any more than you like hearing it. But a man in my shoes — or yours — doesn’t have the luxury of pussyfooting around this issue, not with nearly ten million souls to safeguard.”
“Just how serious a problem do you think we’re looking at, sir?” he asked carefully.
Brief anger tightened down through Abe Lendan’s face. The muscles at his jaw jumped. “It could be damned serious. There are a lot of unhappy people out there,” he nodded toward the tall windows beside his desk, overlooking a city that was still being rebuilt. “The House and Senate have had to pass some mighty unpopular legislation. Nobody likes paying higher taxes, but frankly, they aren’t high enough. Not to pay for everything that needs to be done to get us back on our feet again. If we don’t get that space station into orbit soon…”
He didn’t need to finish the thought. Simon knew only too well the economic penalty Jefferson’s industry was paying for lack of an adequate spacedock for off-world freighters. The House and Senate had stalled and stalled on the funding vote for the station. They’d even balked at funding replacements for the weather and military surveillance satellites the Deng had blown to atoms. Half the fishing fleet had been lost during a violent, out-of-season storm that had ripped its way across the Western Ocean without anything like adequate advance warning. That storm had sent three factory trawlers to the bottom with all hands on board.
It was that disaster, in fact, and the public outcry over it — four hundred fifty children had lost one or both parents to the storm — that had finally forced the vote due to take place today. The pending legislation also included replacement of the military surveillance satellites and a provision requiring Jefferson to ship troops off-world, to support the savage fighting along humanity’s borders. Both items were required under Jefferson’s full treaty obligations and both had been forced through committee by some very courageous politicians. The military satellite expenditures were unpopular amongst the urban poor, but the shipment of troops was a political hot potato of immense size.
“What do you need from me, sir?” Simon asked quietly.
Abe Lendan’s voice was harsh with strain. “I need you to go over the defense priorities we’ll have to carry out on our own, if the Joint Assembly rejects the treaty. Whoever wins the presidential race six months from now will have to know what’s most critical to implement, if we lose you and your Bolo to our own stupidity.”
Simon winced at the bitterness.
“I take it,” Lendan added, “that you’re ready to testify before the Joint Assembly this afternoon?”
“I am.” The two words came out grim with the foreknowledge of exactly what tempest he was about to brew in the formidable teapot of Jefferson’s ruling echelons. “What I have to say won’t endear me to your political rivals. And your supporters won’t like it much, either. What the Concordiat needs — let alone what Jefferson needs — is mighty unpopular, just now, and I can’t see it getting any more palatable in the forseeable future.”
“I’m aware of that.” Abe Lendan’s voice dropped to a hush, his weary face haggard with deep lines and dark circles beneath his eyes. “Perhaps more so than anyone on Jefferson. If I can just hang on until after the elections…” His voice trailed off. “The best hope I can see for us is the Granger vote. If the urban vote swings the elections, we’re looking at real trouble, I’m afraid, and probably sooner than you can imagine. Unless,” he added grimly, “you’re half as smart as I think you are and you’ve got ears they haven’t thought about. And are willing to act on what you hear.”
Simon flexed his jaw muscles, but didn’t answer right away. If he were any judge of human character, the situation could get savage in a real hurry, with the presidency up for grabs in an open election.
“Very well, sir. Given the circumstances, we’d better hold that meeting with your advisors. Particularly the War College’s General Staff.”
Abe Lendan merely nodded, lips tightening briefly as he took in the deeper meaning of Simon’s words, took it in, shook the wrinkles out of it, and moved calmly on to the next task. As Abe Lendan touched the intercom controls, fingertips ominously unsteady, Simon wondered whom he’d be visiting in this office six months from now — and whether or not the next person to sit in that chair would be even a quarter as qualified as its current occupant. He found it difficult to believe that anyone ever could.
And prayed that he was wrong.