“There’s no point in worrying about what might have been,” Peter said, when I expressed my thoughts aloud. “Besides, would you want to follow a giant cuddly bear with very little brain?”
“I’ll think about it,” I said, shaking my head. The children following the bear, even the younger teenage girls, showed no sign of fear. The teens wore skirts that would have been an open invitation to rape on Earth, but here… here, it was safe. I felt another pang for the boy I could have been and silently cursed the UN under my breath. Earth was entering terminal decline. I wouldn’t have gone back there if they’d paid me with enough coin to buy a whole planet.
“That’s sad,” Suki said, seriously. “Everyone says that Earth is a paradise.”
I snorted. “Have you ever been there?” She shook her head. “I had two sisters when I was a boy. They were both raped several times as they entered their teens. They were lucky; they didn’t get pregnant. They all knew who did it, but when my sister took it to the police, they raped her as well. My younger sister married when she was fourteen and had a child a year until she was twenty-five. Three of them died before they reached their first birthday because of poor medical treatment. The others probably died when Earth started to come apart at the seams.”
Suki stared at me, her face torn by outright horror. “But… that’s terrible!”
“Yes,” I said darkly. The irony was that there were people with far worse stories than I. “It also happened.”
She was silent as the car finally drew into the Inauguration Stadium. It had been built during happier times and served only one purpose, a place where the new candidates could take their seats and be applauded by the people, even those who had voted for the other guy. The building behind it served as the first ceremonial meeting place and was, I think, the tallest building in the city. The hordes of reporters surrounding it looked large enough to occupy the entire building all by themselves. I spotted hundreds of policemen trying vainly to keep order and a handful of soldiers from the 1st Svergie. I’d tried to talk the President into having more security, but he’d refused, citing concerns about not appearing a dictator. The entire building was far too open for me.
“Try to keep a smile on your face,” I said, as the car parked, exposing us to the lenses of the cameramen. I’d have preferred to avoid photographs entirely, but it would have been impossible, unless I ordered some of the cameramen killed. They weren’t UN-approved reporters, to be fair, but they seemed to have the same pushy personality, although they did have more basic intelligence. The UN reporters tended to write their stories before actually finding out anything about what was going on, or why. If truth happened to disagree with their written work… well, so what? “Failing that, try not to kill anyone.”
Suki slipped her hand into mine as the flashbulbs flickered. It was another reminder of how primitive Svergie actually was; they didn’t have holographic cameras or even equipment that didn’t need flashlights. They were even back to using newspapers rather than datapads, although they had an expanding television industry. They’d probably reinvent plenty of other technology in the near future. Her dress was cut so short that they probably got an eyeful every time she bent over even slightly. I hoped they enjoyed the view. My own stunning good looks couldn’t compete.
“Welcome,” a harassed-looking usher said. “General and lady, you’re on the main stage over there, behind the Council Chairs and the President’s table. Can I show you there?”
“Of course,” I said, graciously. I should have tipped him, but I couldn’t be bothered. I looked around for the President, hoping to see a friendly face, but all I saw were reporters, civilians and Frida Holmqvist, who smiled at me from her chair. As someone who had retained her seat, she was already seated along with two others. “Lead on, my good man.”
The President might have been re-elected, but no one seemed to have any doubt that he was a lame duck. I listened absently to conversations that suggested that the Conservatives were considering resigning completely from the Council, or making deals with various factions of the Progressives, while the Progressives themselves seemed to be having trouble in the ranks. They’d stayed together while they’d been weak, but now they held most of the cards, cracks were starting to seep in. The Conservatives would be going fishing in troubled waters, but if Frida knew — or cared — she gave no sign. Her face was touched by victory.
Good luck, I thought, sardonically. The entire planet was perched on a knife-edge. You’re going to need it.
A trumpeter started to play a single series of notes and the crowds quietened down, almost by magic. I listened absently as the music swelled up into a single tune — the planet’s anthem, I guessed — and finally dimmed down to a single note. When it faded away and vanished, no one, not even me, could have said when it vanished. The silence seemed almost complete, broken only by the birds cawing in the distance. Even the reporters were silent.
An elderly woman stood up and slowly made her way to the podium, but instead of taking a place behind it she stood beside it. She wore red robes that marked her out as a High Court Judge, one of the three most senior Judges on the planet. I hadn’t met her, but I’d heard that she’d read and approved the ROE we’d operate under, if it came down to war. She hadn’t raised silly issues or tried to turn us into a glorified police force, unlike some of the others. That suggested, at least, that she knew what she was doing.
“The second election since the withdrawal of the UN occupation forces has just been completed,” she said, her voice ringing in the silence. The stadium had been designed to carry her voice to every ear. “The votes have been counted. The irregularities have been checked. The results, finally, have been reported. On this day, the new Councillors take their position. Give them great honour, as they deserve.”
The crowd started to clap as the first new Councillor appeared from the side and stepped onto the stage. The clapping only seemed to grow louder, more like a beat than spontaneous applause. It took me a moment to realise that it was part of the ceremony, a reminder of the power of mob rule, and how quickly a Councillor could lose the respect of his people. The power to elect was also the power to dispose. I watched as they seemed to flinch back from the display of power, before taking their seats and pretending that it wasn’t affected them at all. Inanely, I found myself thinking of a wedding, and smiled. This marriage wouldn’t work out perfectly, nor would they live happily ever after.
“Councillors, you have been elected to represent the will of the people,” the Judge said. “Do you swear to uphold the honour of your office, to act with courage and compassion, wisdom and mercy, to serve as the governing body of this planet? Do you swear — or do you chose now to refuse to accept the honour, knowing that you are unworthy?”
“We accept,” the Councillors said. I smiled to myself. Who would refuse after all the hard work they’d done trying to get elected. “We swear…”
The oath seemed to take forever, but finally they were all sworn in. “The President has been re-elected,” the Judge concluded. This time, the cheers and clapping were much more spontaneous. “Welcome him back for another term of office.”
I saw the President emerge from the rear of the stadium and make his way through the crowd and climb onto the stage. He looked as if he had aged overnight, yet his footsteps were firm and his eyes were bright. I didn’t envy him his position — the Progressives could ram whatever they wanted past him — yet I suspected part of him was enjoying the challenge. He might even beat the Progressives at their own game.