2074 - Space Corps Central Command Office

Months went by, and each day that passed in Harlow’s office felt like a hard-fought battle in its own right.

Battles he rarely won.

Even with additional help, his workload barely improved. He’d been tasked with the implementation of a regional defense strategy, but it had yet to see success despite any amount of effort he put in.

He’d grown accustomed to shouldering the majority of the blame for these failures, whether deserved or not, courtesy of his cohorts. He was an easy target, and it was far simpler to find fault with the Space Corps’ newest and least experienced general rather than admitting that a single brick isn’t enough to stop a flood, regardless of its individual strength, if the rest of the wall is compromised.

He was twenty-seven now, but appeared far older, with a few noticeable gray hairs to prove it. Some of this premature aging was probably natural, but most could be attributed directly to stress.

Stress that showed no sign of lessening.

So when he was interrupted by a light knock on his office door on the morning of October 19, he assumed it was a member of his staff and paid it barely any mind.

“Come in,” he said, without looking up from the documents he was reading.

“David,” his visitor began.

He glanced up, because no one had referred to him that way for a very long time. He was General Harlow now. And when he saw who it was, a look of surprise crossed his face.

Howard stood in the doorway.

Harlow knew immediately that something was wrong. They exchanged pleasantries every now and then, but General Howard had never once visited his office.

Gone was his usual unbothered attitude and no-nonsense demeanor. Howard had come here for a specific reason—one driven solely by duty. Harlow recognized that look—it was the same somber expression he wore when he was about to have a conversation he desperately wished to avoid.

“What is it, Howard?” he asked.

General Howard paused by the door, then pushed it closed behind him and slowly crossed the room, pacing forward with his hands buried in his pockets and his gaze trained on the floor.

“I need to speak to you,” he said.

Harlow shrugged. “Go ahead, then.”

“Alone. Are we in danger of being interrupted within the next few minutes?”

“No more so than usual.”

“What about Victor, or any of your staff?” He took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

“Victor’s out running an errand for me, and the rest of them know better than to intrude when the door’s closed.”

Howard glanced around. “Is there a possibility we’ll be overheard? Do you think there’s listening devices planted in here, or any chance your communications are compromised?”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Harlow stared at him. “Howard, what’s going on?”

“Answer the question.”

“No; nobody’s listening, to the best of my knowledge. I’ve made sure of it.”

Howard nodded and took a deep breath. “Good. There’s a reason I’ve come here in person. What I’m about to say can’t be discussed over the phone, or through any written communication channel. I want there to be no record of it.”

He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands together, as he always did when he was nervous. “There’s going to be an emergency Council session this afternoon.”

Harlow frowned. “Why wasn’t I notified sooner?”

“Because we’ve just scheduled it. And the reason you’re hearing about it this way is because the Chief Commander won’t be in attendance. He doesn’t know, and he won’t find out what’s set to transpire until it’s concluded.”

Harlow’s brow furrowed in confusion, and Howard looked away. “We’ll be voting on the matter of whether to forcibly remove him from office.”

Harlow inhaled sharply. “Why?”

“You know why.”

There was a pause, then Howard sighed. “The reasons to be cited are his ineffective leadership, his gross mishandling of the war, and his unpopularity among his subordinates.”

“But we can’t do that unless—”

“Unless it’s a unanimous decision? Yes, I’m aware. We’ve already considered that. And even though the Council has never been in unanimous agreement on any measure in its history, some of us have decided to call this hearing anyway, because the situation’s grown dire enough to warrant it. We’ve grown more than fed up with Wittenauer’s leadership—or rather, lack thereof. He can dispute the outcome with Headquarters all he likes, but if the Council’s in agreement, they’re all but guaranteed to take our side.” He paused, then inhaled deeply. “I won’t tell you how to vote, David, but you know what needs to be done.”

Harlow idly tapped a pencil on the desk, then looked away. “I do. I wish there was another way, though.”

“Trust me, if there was, we’d have tried it. I know it’s unpleasant, but like it or not, when you accepted this promotion, such responsibilities fell to you. If you weren’t prepared to do difficult things, you should never have agreed to it.”

Harlow nodded. “You know me, Howard. I’ll do the right thing.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

There was another long pause, and Howard sighed again. “Wittenauer’s mismanagement of the Space Corps has grown so egregious, it can’t be ignored much longer. His days are numbered, and if he doesn’t leave as a result of this hearing, he’ll be leaving with a bullet in his skull, probably courtesy of his own Council. We’ve reached the point at which some of them are discussing taking matters into their own hands, consequences be damned. This hearing is the most grace he’ll be shown, and we need you to be there.” He took a deep breath, then looked away. “The level of internal discontent that’s been on display recently is making even me nervous. In all my years of service, I’ve never seen anything like it. He needs to go, and the sooner, the better.”

Harlow nodded. “I understand. I’ll be there.”

General Howard nodded back—another solemn, wordless gesture—and sat quietly for a moment. But then he stood abruptly.

“I should be going,” he said. “The longer I stay, the more we risk being discovered, and we can’t afford to jeopardize this hearing. Don’t tell your staff. Meet us in the Council Chamber at 13:00, and vote wisely. If all goes according to plan, we’ll be done in a matter of minutes.”

He turned to leave, but Harlow spoke again.

“Howard.”

He stopped.

“Who’s going to replace him?”

General Howard frowned, and Harlow could tell this was a subject he’d rather not discuss.

“I don’t know; that remains to be seen. We’ll address one issue at a time. Just get him out, and we’ll vote on a replacement soon enough.”

“Will it be you?” Harlow asked.

Howard turned toward him slightly, then shook his head. “No. That’s an appointment I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Not with the current state of things.”

And with that, he crossed the room and disappeared into the hall, leaving Harlow alone, where he sat for two and a half more hours making a pretense of going about his day as if nothing was amiss.

Victor wasn’t supposed to know, but of course, he did. Harlow had always been impressed by his ability to glean knowledge from even the driest of sources, although he didn’t like it.

“What if it’s a trap orchestrated by Wittenauer himself to root out disloyalty?” Victor asked, a few minutes before Harlow was to leave.

Harlow paused, then shook his head. “If Howard thought something was wrong, he’d call it off. I trust him.”

“I don’t,” Victor shrugged.

“Well, I never asked you, did I?” Harlow replied without so much as glancing at him. Victor knew better than to say more; he simply nodded and walked away.

And so, at 12:55, Harlow left his office under the guise of going to lunch, then made his way to a secret meeting in order to cast his vote.