2075 - Space Corps Central Command Office
Nearly a year after that last conversation took place, Harlow stood in his office—the chief commander’s office, this time—leaning against the edge of his desk.
It was a Monday morning, and as usual, it was far too early, but the time of day didn’t matter to him, and hadn’t for quite a while.
He was twenty-eight now, but that number no longer mattered either, as the vestiges of youth had long since fallen away. He was an old man trapped in a young man’s body.
He appeared to be lost deep in thought, with a slight frown and a furrowed brow indicating the nature of what was on his mind. His musings were interrupted, though, when Victor entered the room and stopped just inside the doorway.
Harlow had been preparing for the day, but it was a half-hearted effort, and he’d been stalling. At the sight of Victor, though, he sighed and put on his jacket.
Victor remained there for a while, taking in the shadow of a man who stood before him with those ever-present dark circles beneath his eyes, that prematurely gray hair which was now showing white at the roots, and fingers that shook as he fastened the buttons on his uniform.
“Are you alright?” Victor asked.
Harlow hesitated, then sighed. “No, but I’m getting up and doing it all anyway.”
“Another migraine?”
Harlow nodded. “I used to be able to make it to the afternoon before they became unbearable, but this week they’ve been starting as soon as I wake up.”
“Have you taken something for it?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, if you’re planning to, I suggest you do it soon, because that Council briefing’s set to start in fifteen minutes.”
“I’m aware,” Harlow replied. “I plan to be there regardless of how I’m feeling. I was wondering if you could do something for me first, though.”
“What’s that?”
“You still carry that handgun of yours, right?”
Victor moved his jacket aside, revealing the holster beneath. “Always.”
Harlow nodded. “I want you to open carry today. Wear it on your belt, where it’s in full view, and instead of observing from the gallery, you’ll be sitting in there with me. They know you’re armed, but I want them to see visible evidence of it.”
Victor frowned, and Harlow looked away and sighed. “I’ve got a bad feeling about today, that’s all.”
Victor shrugged as he removed his jacket. “You put far too much trust in that intuition of yours.”
“Yes, because it’s rarely wrong. Gut instinct tells you what your eyes can’t, and my eyes have told me more than enough lately. I have a hunch this meeting might get ugly.”
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Victor mulled over these words. “I know the Council has a tendency to be testy, but you don’t think they’d actually try anything in there, do you?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past them,” Harlow said. “We all know they hate each other, but I don’t like how the atmosphere in that room has felt recently. And last week . . . that’s the first time I’ve been genuinely afraid.”
Victor shrugged. “General Lin put on quite the performance, didn’t he? I never thought he’d be bold enough to challenge you publicly, but he’s demonstrated he’ll do anything.”
Harlow shook his head. “It’s gone beyond a challenge. He’s never made a secret of the fact he doesn’t like me, but this is something else. He’s not just undermining my authority; he’s grown comfortable enough to do it in front of a room full of generals. No one on that Council will ever do a single damn thing to stop him, either, and he knows it, which only serves to embolden him further.” He paused, then sighed again. “I don’t like some of these rumors I’ve been hearing lately.”
“Which rumors would those be?” Victor asked. “Because if you’re referring to the fact that some of our generals are forming quiet alliances with each other, that’s not even a rumor anymore; it’s an open secret.”
Harlow nodded. “My fear is that they’re about to turn on each other, and all the rules, decorum, and formality of senior command won’t stop them.” He closed his eyes. “It’s always been tense in there, but they’ve become openly hostile, with no attempt to hide it. They can’t even pretend to be civil anymore; I see it in their eyes every time they look at each other across that table. It’s not even a question of ‘if’ something’s going to happen, but ‘when,’ and I think, more likely than not, it’ll be soon. Some of them seem fully prepared to escalate that tension to action, and they’re going to need a reminder that such behavior won’t be tolerated.”
Victor leaned against the doorframe and idly pulled at a loose thread on his jacket. “I’ve noticed a correlation between the downturns in the war and their collective mood.”
“As have I. They’re getting desperate, and it shows.”
“Is that really enough to warrant outright hostility, though?” Victor asked. “The war may not be going well, but they’re not in danger of a decisive loss—not yet, at least. If they were to turn on each other and split our ranks, that would mark the point of no return. Their careers would be ruined, not to mention their lives. I don’t think they’d risk it.”
“Maybe not, but I think it’s the first time they’ve seriously considered the possibility,” Harlow said. “They all got their jobs through bribery and nepotism. I doubt they ever thought they’d find themselves embroiled in a conflict of this nature, much less on the losing end of it. Those last few reports were pretty damning, and these officers who grew up with silver spoons in their mouths are finally realizing that their misdeeds could land them in front of a tribunal, if this goes badly. Their privileged lives are about to be upturned, and if there’s one thing privilege doesn’t like, it’s a challenge. Now they’ve run out of outsiders to blame, so they’re pointing fingers at each other. None of them would willingly sink their own careers, but if they thought they were going down, they’d make sure to take everyone else with them.”
He paused, then sighed again. “They’ve spent years issuing thinly veiled threats and undermining each other at every opportunity, but when that no longer works, I have no doubt they’ll take it out in the open. This war is in danger of spilling into the Council Chamber, and I won’t have it.”
Victor nodded as he removed the holster that held the pistol in place.
“What’s your plan if I actually need to use this?” he asked. “Because I won’t carry it like that unless I’m prepared to do so.”
Harlow shook his head. “I don’t have one.”
“Make one, then, because I could end up dead if one of them interprets this as a threat, or at the very least, spend years in court trying to defend my reasoning for shooting a general.”
“It shouldn’t come to that, but if it does, I’ll always have your back.”
“Your word doesn’t mean much, though—not to them.”
Harlow was silent at this while Victor put the holster on his belt, then shrugged on his jacket once more. “Well, whatever your plans for today, settle them quickly, because we’ve got to go.”
“I know.” Harlow let out a long sigh. “I’d just like to have someone in there who doesn’t have a vested interest in burying me alive.”
Victor’s expression remained indecipherable, but when he spoke again, his voice had a subtle note of compassion to it.
“Well, let’s get going, then,” he said with a nod toward the door.