“Why would no joint statement be issued?” he asked bluntly. His voice carried with it a tone of challenge, it seemed to Adela, but at the same time clearly expressing that he already knew the answer. “The debate here will most certainly be both heated and lengthy, as our discussions proved during the weeks we awaited the arrival of the Imperial starship, but the question may be called at virtually any time.”
Most of the whispering in the Dominion chamber faded quickly away as members of both Congresses turned their complete attention to the confrontation forming between the Westland Speaker and Eastland representative. For the first time since he’d gotten up to address the Speaker, Blakert grew openly nervous. He seemed to be having trouble finding something to do with his hands, and his eyes darted from Niles to Salera and back again.
“Representative Blakert?”
“It’s true that at any point in the debate the question may be called,” the man said finally. “But that would only apply if a Joint Dominion were in session… indeed, if a Dominion still existed.” He paused, and the whispers increased to fill in the gap as he regarded Woorunmarra once more, asking, “Legally speaking, Lieutenant, based on what you said a few minutes ago, the Empire of the Hundred Worlds would not interfere if a condition were to arise that prevented a united statement to be issued. Would that consideration also cover a condition under which the Dominion were to, for whatever reason, be dissolved?”
The chamber exploded in raucous cries and shouted accusations from the Westland Congress, forcing Niles to again use the gavel repeatedly. It took several minutes for the noise to subside, and as Woorunmarra awaited an opportunity to answer, Adela saw Speaker Niles turn to Salera, his eyes wide with anger. Still pounding the gavel with his right hand, he covered his microphone with his left, shouting more in rage than to be heard.
“Bastard!” she heard him exclaim. She regarded Woorunmarra at her side, and it was clear from the look on his face that he could also hear what the man was saying. “You set this up all along, didn’t you?”
Salera cupped his hand over his own microphone. “We need to stay together if we’re to defy the Empire, Am!”
“We must stay together, yes; but not in defiance of the Hundred Worlds! We need them as much as we need each other!”
“It’s your choice, Am,” he said, lowering his voice as the room began to settle. “We can dissolve the Dominion. We’ve got the votes to do it.”
Niles shrank back in horror at what Salera was suggesting and, as order returned to the chamber, lay the gavel on its side in front of him. Without turning, he indicated for Woorunmarra to reply to the question.
“Representative Blakert, if at any time during our visit the Dominion should be dissolved, no action would be taken until such time as a resolution to the difficulties between the two Congresses were to be reached. We would offer whatever assistance and mediation we could, at Pallatin’s request, to resolve the differences between you.” There was a heightened buzz at this, but he quickly continued before disorder could spread through the chamber. “I must caution you, however—this applies to dealings with member worlds under normal circumstances. Our reason for being here in the first place stems from Pallatin’s refusal to cooperate with the Hundred Worlds and, obviously, the situation could be called anything but normal circumstances. With that in mind, let me restate that Commander Montero has the ultimate authority here, and will act as he sees fit for the general welfare of the Empire. Does that answer your question?”
“Yes, sir, it does.” Blakert looked solemnly at the faces of his co-representatives seated nearest him. All were silent, waiting for him to continue.
Woorunmarra leaned to Adela and spoke softly in her ear. “You know what they’re doin’, don’t you?”
“Speaker Niles was right,” she whispered back, guessing what he was getting at. “This whole thing, this whole session and our part in it, was nothing but an elaborate setup.”
He nodded agreement and seemed about to add something, but stopped when Blakert spoke up again.
“Speakers, my fellow Representatives to the Ninety-second Dominion, citizens of Pallatin,” he began. The chamber was hushed, expectant, and he pivoted about slowly as he addressed the attendees, allowing his gaze to sweep over the crowd before turning back to face Salera and Niles. “I move that the Eastland Congress call for a vote of secession.”
There was, surprisingly, less reaction than Adela had expected; a steady murmuring spread quickly through the rows and galleries, but there was not the total outburst of emotion that she had imagined would occur. Speaker Niles sat unmoving, apparently resigned to the inevitable outcome of what was happening, his hands steepled over his lips. He stared at the representative, still standing before the dais, and refused to even acknowledge the presence of the Speaker sitting next to him. For his part, Salera seemed no more comfortable with his own closeness to his Westland counterpart. She studied Niles’ face as best she could from her vantage point behind and to one side of him; where unbridled rage had been a few moments earlier, his face now reflected what she could only describe as sorrow. Adela knew enough about the political structure of Pallatin’s Dominion form of government to know that he was powerless to stop the inter-Congress vote that had just been requested.
Blakert, in what now seemed an obviously planned—if not actually rehearsed—procedure, turned to another representative seated in the row behind him. The woman stood without hesitation and faced the dais. “Speaker Salera, Hauley township seconds the call for a vote of secession.”
“A vote has been called and seconded.” Behind Adela, the left side of the enormous tally board went dark, the names of the Westland representatives fading immediately from view. It would stand to reason that the table keypads had been activated as well. Salera stood, still avoiding Niles’ eyes. “Representative Blakert, please state the question.”
“Thank you, Speaker Salera.” Blakert smiled uneasily as he regarded those seated around him. “Let this question stand: Shall Eastland withdraw from the Dominion of Pallatin?” He retook his seat and thumbed his choice into the keypad to officially begin the voting process, and a corresponding red light glowed in the “yes” column by his name on the board. The woman who had seconded the call voted next; another red light blinked on. The voting under way, a low, steady chatter returned to the chamber. While Adela and Woorunmarra watched, the board quickly became dappled with glowing lights as the rest of the Eastland Congress voted.
Although both Speakers had smaller versions of the tally board mounted into the tabletops before them, Salera had swiveled his chair around to watch the big board as the votes came in. He nodded approvingly as the board filled up, but behind his confident expression lay something else, Adela noted. Another red light came on next to a name near the bottom of the board, and their eyes met for several seconds, confirming her suspicions. His large eyes radiated a sense of worry and foreboding, a visible sense of apprehension that plainly told her he was hoping they were doing the right thing.
Salera stood and leaned over the podium, speaking to both of them directly. “It might be better,” he said quietly, getting quickly to the point, “if the two of you waited in the guest area.” He indicated the gallery where she and Woorunmarra had been seated prior to addressing the chamber.
Adela saw that the Imperial guards were already on their feet, nervously watching the chamber, and that even now a pair of them was approaching the dais to escort them back to the gallery. “You may be right.”