“The real trouble will probably come when they finish counting the votes,” TechnoMage commented, and he was right. The Svergie Constitution ordained a day for the election and another day for the votes to be counted up, with Inauguration Day following two days afterwards. I kept a close eye on the reporters as they counted results, cursing whoever had invented the system under my breath. It was becoming increasingly obvious that the Progressives had swept the board.
The system probably hadn’t been rigged by design, but that was the general result. The Councillors won by right of majority; a Councillor could be one vote ahead of his opponent and still win with ease. Worse — if that were possible — all of the political parties, and not a few independents, were standing for election in each of the voting districts. The vote was going to be bitterly divided, I decided. It was quite possible that someone would be voted into power with only twenty percent of the population behind him. Given careful planning and not a little deviousness, the political parties could position their resources for the greatest effect, but some were more successful than others. The Progressives and Communists were unpopular out in the rural areas, while the Conservatives were grossly unwelcome in the lower-class districts. The more I thought about it, the more I realised the irony. The original inhabitants of the planet had created a system that allowed their planet to be stolen from right under their collective nose.
“The Progressives seem to have won twelve seats for definite and probably two more when they finish counting,” Russell said. Democracy is almost a religion on Heinlein — which I always thought was a little odd, seeing that each voter had to endure two years of military service to earn the franchise — and he was enjoying watching a very different democracy at work. I had a private theory that he was secretly taking notes for a research paper after he gave up the mercenary business. “They’re the winners, boss.”
“I know,” I said, shaking my head. “I expected as much.”
“The odd thing is who didn’t get elected,” Russell added. “The Communists lost their seat to the Progressives and a couple of independents got elected. They’re calling for a recount now and shaking their fists, but unless there was massive fraud on a citywide scale I think they’re going to be refused. They’re not going to take this lying down.”
I ran my hand through my hair. I’d actually allowed it to grow out too far over the last few weeks and I hadn’t had time to go for a haircut. I should have gone to one of the training barbers, but I had my pride, damn it! Russell was right, of course; hell hath no fury like a group of political radicals convinced that ‘The Man’ had deprived them of their rightful place.
“They might decide to cause trouble,” I agreed. It wasn’t easy to see which way they’d jump. Would they remain quiet and support the Progressives, or would they see the Progressives as a sell-out and start a civil war? There was no way to know what their leadership was thinking, but I doubted that it was anything calm and tranquil. The Communist Militia — or the Vanguard of Workers Freedom, as they called it — was still drilling with captured UN weapons. I doubted they’d be a real threat in the open, but as a terrorist force they could be formidable. “Get the intelligence staff to keep a close eye on them and warn me if they look like they’re going to do something stupid.”
It took them another day to make it official, but the results weren’t really in doubt. The Progressives had claimed fourteen seats, with another five going to the Conservatives, one to the Liberty Party and one to an independent. I made a mental note to try to speak to that independent as soon as possible; I wouldn’t have put it past the Communists, or someone else, to have him assassinated just to reopen the seat. Svergie had no automatic system of succession for Councillors; they’d have to go through an emergency election to select his successor. Perhaps he’d be interested in a bodyguard and some personal protection.
Suki seemed to take the news with remarkable dispassion. Her brief stint on the training ground had convinced her that regular exercise was more than just healthy and when I didn’t need her, she was often to be found training with one of the female unarmed combat experts or practicing on the shooting range. I had grown quite fond of her in a way, although I refused to allow her through my defences, or accepted her offers of companionship in the night. I still wasn’t sure just who she was working for, or what her orders might have been. She didn’t seem to be sending any messages off-base, but that proved nothing. There were plenty of clever spies out there.
“They’re inviting you and a couple of your men to watch the inauguration ceremony,” she said, when she came bursting into my office. She wasn’t much good at the clerical work, but she could handle almost everything else I might want her to do. We’d also started training up a staff of local clerks to assist with building the army, although I had made it damn clear that they weren’t commissioned officers and never would be commissioned officers unless they went through Basic Training and served a term in the infantry. “Are you going to go?”
“I don’t seem to have a choice,” I said, curtly. The President’s gift of General’s rank was something of a double-edged sword. It made me senior officer in the planetary army, but at the same time it doubled my duties, not least because I couldn’t combine my roles. If I had integrated the Legio Exheres into Svergie’s Planetary Army, we’d lose all of our independence. Fleet would not be amused. John would definitely not be amused. It also meant that I had to attend ceremonies that meant nothing to me. At least no one had asked me to kiss babies.
“You could spend the day at the beach instead,” Suki suggested, with a wink that probably qualified as a lethal weapon on some more conservative worlds. “Take the day off and enjoy yourself.”
I snorted. “If we get through the next week without violence, I’ll seriously consider it,” I promised. I was overdue for a holiday myself and, unlike the lower ranks, I couldn’t go out and pick fights with the street toughs. The only relief I had was sparring with Peter, Russell and Ed and there was nothing unpredictable in that. “A time to relax would be lovely.”
Inauguration Day dawned brightly as the city came to a halt. The day was a planetary holiday almost everywhere — the staff at hospitals and other critical posts were not allowed to take the day off — and most of the streets were full of people partying. The massive government-issue car that had been sent for me, Peter and Suki — I’d decided to take her purely on the spur of the moment — had problems negotiating its way through the crowded streets. I saw happy young men and women courting in the sunlight, some of them making it all the way to third base in the shadows, while entertainers danced and sang old songs in a language I didn’t recognise. A handful of costumed characters paraded past the car, followed by hundreds of children grasping sweets, and I felt my heart twist suddenly. On Earth, there had been no time to be a child, with all that that implied. I had never played without fear, or walked to school without escort, but on Svergie children could sing and play as much as they liked. What would I have been, I wondered, if I had grown up in an environment that was truly safe?