2074 - Space Corps Central Command Office

Howard took a deep breath. “There’s nothing I can say to convince you otherwise, is there?”

Harlow shook his head.

“Fine,” Howard replied. “But if you’re truly committed to this, then you’ve got to take proper precautions. You’ll need better staff, at the very least.”

Harlow frowned. “What makes you think I’m dissatisfied with the team I’ve got now?”

Howard shot him that familiar, knowing look. “Besides the obvious, I don’t think you fully grasp my meaning. I’m not talking about those on your payroll—aides, assistants, those in your direct chain of command, or what-have-you. For every member of your staff who exists, you need two that don’t. What I’m referring to, of course, is the secret network every chief commander has relied upon. The informants they slipped into their opponents’ offices. The spies reporting to several levels of middlemen, most of whom didn’t even know exactly who they were working for. The bodyguards who could blend into any group and look completely unremarkable. But most importantly, they’ve always surrounded themselves with people they trust. Their inner circle is very small, by necessity—made up of confidantes who are willing to take a bullet for them. That kind of loyalty is difficult to come by and easy to lose, which is yet another reason you’re out of your league. Who’s that you’ve got working for you, again?”

“Victor,” Harlow said quietly.

Howard smiled. “Need I say more?”

He studied Harlow’s face for a moment, and his smile faded. “If you’re looking for a new aide, I can make some recommendations.”

Harlow shrugged. “I appreciate the offer, but even your endorsement won’t be enough. Not in this political climate.”

Howard paused at this, then nodded. “You’re exercising an absurd degree of caution—a wise choice, and better than I’d given you credit for. You can’t afford to trust anyone, and I don’t blame you.” He sighed. “Victor may be utter rubbish, but he’s the devil you know versus the one you don’t.”

Harlow nodded. “You said it yourself—Victor possesses certain . . . qualities, and he’s done far better than I ever expected, when I took him on. I can give him a task and say ‘handle it,’ and I never have to think about it again. He’s got that confrontational attitude of his, too, and everyone knows it, which means there’s no one else I’d rather have sitting at that desk out there. He greets my visitors, reads my messages, and screens my calls before they ever get to me, and he’s intimidating enough that they’ve usually tempered their frustration long before I talk to them. He’s the perfect gatekeeper—”

“Vicious cave troll, you mean.” Howard interrupted. “The few times I’ve had to call your office, I’ve dreaded it, because I knew he’d answer. The insolent slut’s gotten the impression he doesn’t have to be respectful anymore, now that he’s working for you. He’s not openly rude to me, of course, but if there’s ever an opportunity to make my life even the slightest bit more difficult, he’ll seize it in an instant. Did you know I once waited twenty minutes on hold before I spoke to you? I’ve got no doubt he did it on purpose.”

Harlow couldn’t help but smile a little bit. “Of course he did,” he whispered.

After a long pause, Howard continued. “I can’t tell you what to do; I can only advise you. But ask yourself—do you really trust Victor’s motives? I don’t care how competent he is at his job. If you don’t trust him, he shouldn’t be there.”

Harlow shrugged. “He’s given me no reason to question his loyalty so far, which is better than can be said for most.” He sighed. “At any rate, I trust him more than that Council.”

Even Howard couldn’t dispute this, and he resumed pacing and shrugged. “I know it’s entirely too personal, but I have to ask—is this sudden defensiveness rooted in affection? Did you bring him back because you were truly desperate, or had you two resumed relations?”

Harlow shot him a warning look. “Victor was my last choice for an aide. That’s why I went without one for so long—everyone else I could’ve hired either resigned, died, or was utterly useless. I informed him on the first day that if he ever brought up our past, he’d be dismissed immediately, and so far, he hasn’t. Our working relationship is strained, cold, and strictly professional.” He met Howard’s eyes again. “Does that answer your question?”

Howard had pushed entirely too far, and he seemed to know it, because he gave a quick nod and looked away. “Fine. It’s going to take more than an aide, though, to keep you safe. You have my word—I’ll always be looking out for you, but at this level of command, it won’t be enough. If you choose to occupy that office, you need to make damn sure you can protect yourself. The day’s coming when you’ll be tested, and it’s all but guaranteed to happen when you’re at your worst. Make sure you’re ready, because your opponents certainly will be.”

Harlow raised his eyebrows. “Noted. Now, I think I’ve heard more than enough about that. I’m not leaving, and you won’t convince me to, so tell me more about those bribes.”

Howard paused for a moment, then let out a resigned sigh. “As I said, the only ones I can currently implicate are Generals Lin and Everett, but Lin’s the worst offender, by far.” He stopped pacing and stared at the wall. “You know how badly he wanted that seat for himself, so the fact that he changed his mind at the last minute and put you there instead doesn’t bode well.”

“You’re certain he voted for me?” Harlow asked.

“Without a doubt. Nothing passes the Council without Lin’s approval. The only way you could’ve been elected is if several of them conspired to do so. It’s got to be more than two of them, because I certainly didn’t vote for you, and there’s a few others I know didn’t either.”

“Which ones?”

“Gray and Conrad, at the very least. They’d never.”

“You’ve spoken to them?”

“I don’t need to; I’ve known both of them longer than you’ve been alive. General Gray may be a nasty old curmudgeon, but he’s got more money than God, and he’s not afraid to speak his mind. He’s got no use for such schemes, and he’d just piss off anyone who tried to influence him. He doesn’t think you deserve it, so you’re not getting his vote, and that’s that. And Conrad, quite frankly, is too self-absorbed, and a tad bit stupid, as well. He doesn’t like you, and he can’t see beyond it. He may have solicited your vote, but he doesn’t regard you as an equal, much less an authority. He’d never grant you the slightest hint of power, even if it would serve him in the long run.”

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Harlow took a thoughtful pause, then leaned back in his chair. “That still leaves quite a few who could’ve, though.”

“Yes, it does. If I knew who was paying them, that might narrow it down some, but I don’t. It could be anyone—private interest groups, defense contractors, sovereign governments, criminal enterprises, maybe even a warlord or two. They’ll take anyone’s money, even if it represents conflicting interests.” He sighed. “Whatever the case, the perpetrators and their motives are unclear. All I can be sure of is that some of the Council’s most influential members have a vested interest in continuing this conflict, which means they’ll never end it voluntarily.”

Harlow stared down at the desk. “Lin and Everett . . . I’m afraid I don’t know much about them. I’ve only interacted with them in a professional context.”

Howard studied him carefully. “That’s a polite way of putting it, given what happened at your court martial.”

Harlow didn’t respond, and after a few seconds, Howard looked away. “You don’t have to mince words with me, David. You can call them what they are—monsters, the whole lot.” He took a deep breath. “Consider yourself fortunate to not have had further dealings with them, because neither’s particularly pleasant. Everett’s quiet and impersonal; he keeps to himself and prefers to amass soft power in the shadow of others, which means Lin probably put him up to this. He’d never be so bold on his own. That’s not to say he doesn’t have his own schemes, of course, but Lin’s are guaranteed to be much darker.” He sighed, and his voice grew quieter. “Most of that Council doesn’t scare easily, but Lin frightens them.”

Harlow shrugged. “I’m not afraid.”

“That’s because you’ve never seen him for what he truly is. I know you’ve seen more than enough, but there’s a darkness in that man’s soul that continues to defy even the worst of expectations. He’s never felt the need to show you the full extent of it, because he doesn’t view you as an adversary. You’re little more than a joke to him, which has spared you so far, but that means he’ll have no trouble discarding you, either, should you two run afoul of each other. Don’t underestimate him. All you need to know, really, is that the only interests he’s ever served are his own. He’s a manipulative, smooth-tongued liar, and he’s every bit as intelligent as he is conniving. He knows everything about you, David, whether you’ve told him or not. He sees through every façade you put up, he can smell your insecurities from across the room, and he’ll turn any weakness you’ve ever had against you. And now, you seem to have become part of his plan somehow, which should frighten you more than it does.”

Harlow shrugged. “Who better to foil it, then, if he doesn’t take me seriously?”

His voice had an unsteady aspect to it though, as if he didn’t quite believe his own words.

Howard didn’t seem convinced either, and turned toward him. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” he said. “I don’t use the term lightly, but that man is evil. Purely, thoroughly, uncompromisingly evil. He regards everyone but himself as utterly expendable, as evidenced by those last few campaigns of his. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if he’s planning to take a few more bribes, fulfill the requests of his donors, and get out while he’s ahead, leaving the blame solely with you. He’ll die a rich man, and you’ll die in prison. He holds you in such low regard, he doesn’t believe you possess the wherewithal to even think of that, much less stop it.” He sighed. “I know you’ve paid for the sins of others before—you already went to prison once—but that was only for a few months. If Lin gets his way, you could spend the rest of your life there, and that’s if they don’t simply kill you first. Is that what you want? A life sentence, a ruined career, and a disgraced reputation, all before you’re thirty years old?”

Harlow looked away. “I don’t expect to live a long life, Howard. I’ve always known it, somehow, and I’ve been prepared for a long time.” He sighed. “If I’m going to die, it might as well be for something like this.”

Howard shoved his hands into his pockets and turned away in frustration. “You’re right—you're a bright candle that’s burning down far too quickly, but that doesn’t mean you should light that fire yourself. Don’t create self-fulfilling prophecies.”

“Who else is going to stop him?” Harlow asked. “No one’s even willing to try.”

“Don’t,” Howard said quietly. “You’re too young to have grown content to die. You’re better than that, and you’ll do far more good alive than dead. Please, don’t throw yourself away for this.”

Harlow looked down. “I appreciate your advice more than you can ever know, but I’ve made my decision.”

“Yes, you have, and it’s a foolish one. The best course of action is to withdraw.”

After a moment of silence, Howard turned away and stared at the wall. “I thought we were doing the right thing,” he said in a low, tired voice. “I never would’ve voted for this if I’d known what they planned to do. How did I not see it?” He sighed. “They were smart, that’s how. They didn’t reveal their hand until it was done.”

He closed his eyes and began pacing again. “It was supposed to be Conrad,” he finally said. “That’s what I was led to believe. He must’ve backed out at the last second, and who knows—maybe he voted for you after all. If that’s the case, he’s under Lin’s influence, too.”

He stopped pacing and shook his head. “I should’ve seen it, David. The fact that this escaped me demonstrates utter negligence on my part. You should’ve never been put in this position. Please, heed my warning. It’s too little, too late, but I’m doing the best I can.”

“I don’t care about their threats,” Harlow said. “I’m doing the right thing.”

“Yes, and you could die for it. Needlessly, I might add, because there’s a good chance your death would change absolutely nothing.”

“I’ll never know if I don’t try.”

“Don’t play their game. You’ll lose.”

Harlow closed his eyes. “Better that, than forfeit.”

“You know what they’ll do if they become dissatisfied with your performance. You’ll be a puppet leader, and nothing more. Do you want that to be your legacy?”

Harlow opened his eyes, and when he spoke again, his voice was firm. “As your commanding officer, Howard, I’m ordering you to leave my office.”

Howard seemed taken aback. “Damn it, David, exercise a shred of self-preservation, for once.”

“Leave, Howard. My mind is made up, and I won’t say it again.”

General Howard took a sharp breath, as if he’d intended to say more, then thought better of it. He was visibly upset, but provided no further argument. After a momentary pause, he simply nodded, then turned sharply and left without another word.

Once he was gone, Harlow stared at the desk again.

“Victor,” he said, and he wasn’t speaking very loudly, because he knew Victor was eavesdropping from an adjacent room, just out of sight.

After sufficient pause, Victor adjusted his uniform and stepped inside. “Yes?” he asked.

Harlow picked up the envelope and handed it to him. “Call the certification board, and tell them I’m grateful to accept the nomination.” He took a ragged breath. “I can assume command immediately—whenever they’re ready.”

“That could be as soon as tomorrow,” Victor said. “Well, assuming Wittenauer’s cleared all his shit out from upstairs.”

Harlow regarded him with an impassive stare. “Go make sure that’s been done, then.”

Victor hesitated, then nodded and moved as if to leave. However, he slowed down and lingered near the doorway.

“You’ve made your choice, then?” he asked.

Harlow detected the double meaning in this question and nodded.

“I’ve decided to keep you on,” he said. “I realized, while I was upstairs, that I’ve gotten exactly what I asked for in the beginning. I wanted someone who could run this office in my absence, and you’ve done exactly that—more than once, in fact. You don’t just show up for work; you understand this job at a deep, fundamental level—better than I do, sometimes.” He sighed and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry I was cross with you earlier. I shouldn’t have said those things. You’ve been working hard, and I appreciate it.”

Victor’s expression remained unchanged, but Harlow noticed a flicker of something behind it—the closest thing to pride he’d seen for a long time.

“Now, go,” he nodded at the door.

Victor nodded in reply, then disappeared into the hall.

Harlow remained there long after he was gone, unmoving, staring at nothing in particular. The conversation he’d just had with Howard weighed heavily upon his mind, and he wanted some time to himself, alone and undisturbed, before the choices he’d made came to fruition.

So there he sat, enjoying the silence as best he could, because he suspected these were some of the last peaceful, uninterrupted moments he’d have for a long time.