2075 - Space Corps Central Command Office

When they were alone once more in that cramped, enclosed space, Howard spoke again.

“We should finish this conversation elsewhere—somewhere more private.”

Harlow frowned. “I don’t think there’s anywhere we aren’t at risk of being overheard.”

Howard glanced at him with the faintest hint of a smile. “You’d be surprised,” he said. “But in the meantime, I should go check on my laundry.”

“What?”

“You heard me. It seems one of my aides was suddenly taken ill this morning—or alternatively, struck with a chronic case of laziness—and the latest batch of clean laundry wasn’t delivered to my quarters on time. I don’t like that, so I’m going to check on it, and since you’re here, you should come with me.”

Harlow didn’t respond. He trusted Howard’s judgment, and they waited in silence until the elevator stopped again on one of the maintenance levels.

This area of the Central Command building was staffed almost exclusively by enlisted service members. Generals had no business being down here, but Howard wore that resolute, determined expression, which remained unchanged as the doors opened in front of them.

“Come on.” He nodded toward the hall and stepped out.

Harlow followed, although reluctantly. He feared they might be seen, but thankfully the floor seemed to be mostly deserted. And as he followed Howard around the corner into the main laundry room, suddenly he understood.

The noise was deafening. Dozens of washers and dryers were all running at once, and the racks of clothes spanning the room served as a sound buffer with different cacophonies echoing between each.

“It’s quite loud in here, isn’t it?” Howard shouted above the din. “I wouldn’t have come down here at all, except my bloody aide didn’t put my trousers in until nearly two o’clock in the afternoon. I need them for tomorrow.” He nodded at a nearby dryer as they crossed the room. “They’re in that one. Seems I’ll have to wait.”

As they approached the far side of the room, he nudged Harlow’s shoulder and nodded to the left. All Harlow saw there was another rack of clothes, but then Howard ducked behind it and opened a door that was nearly hidden from sight on the other side.

Harlow followed, but stopped abruptly when he found himself inside a storage closet, its shelves stacked high with a disarrayed mess of tools, rags, and cleaning supplies.

Howard closed the door behind them, and Harlow recoiled as the harsh scent of chemicals stung his nose. There was barely room for both of them, and he had to squeeze in tight beside a mop bucket and a broom hanging from the wall.

“When you’ve been here as long as I have, you learn where all the dead spots are,” Howard said in the oddly muffled silence that enveloped them. “Nobody expects strategy discussions to take place in a broom closet. It’s usually enlisted gossip flying down here, which is why no one upstairs bothers listening to it.” He sighed. “Fools that they are, that Council. They’d be wise to keep their eyes and ears open. You’re no fool, David, and neither is Lin, so you need to listen to me right now.”

He met Harlow’s eyes, and there was a deep sense of earnestness to his next words. “Lin’s not afraid of consequences anymore, which means you’re on your way out. The only way he could’ve done what he did last night was if he had quite a few of our security staff on his payroll, and probably higher-ranking ones at that. There’s cameras pointed at every inch of this place, as well as armed guards on every floor, yet not a single one stopped him. They won’t protect you; their loyalty is to him and his money, which inevitably leads back to his donors. You seem to have fallen out of favor with them, and if that’s the case, they’re already planning your exit. You’ve got to do something, or I’m afraid your days in office are numbered, and the days of your life along with it.”

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“You really think he’d go that far?” Harlow asked. But he already knew the answer; he was simply holding on to the fleeting hope that he might hear otherwise.

Howard shook his head. “Lin’s not bluffing this time. He’ll be back, and he’ll come prepared.” He sighed. “We both knew this day was coming, but I didn’t expect it so soon, nor did I think he’d be so brazen about it. He’s given warning, at least, but that’s both a blessing and a curse. The reason he’s comfortable doing so is because he doesn’t think you pose a threat to him. And he’s not entirely wrong, is he?”

Harlow didn’t respond.

“Lin may not occupy the chief commander’s chair, but he holds enough sway, he doesn’t need to,” Howard continued. “He’s effectively ruling by proxy, and you’re expected to follow his orders just like everyone else. He doesn’t even make a secret of it anymore; he’s openly treating you like a subordinate.”

Harlow closed his eyes. “You’re not telling me anything new,” he said. “I know the facts, but I’d rather hear predictions. What do you think he’ll do next?”

Howard shrugged. “No one can say for sure, because if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s covering his tracks. But make no mistake—he’s got plans for you; the only question is when and how it’ll happen. For all you know, that’s why he was there last night, and Victor’s the only thing that came between the two of you. The reason that stupid show of force worked was because he wasn’t expecting it. Now he is, and it won’t work a second time.”

He sighed, and his voice grew quieter. “I don’t think you realize just how little he values human life. It’s a level of callousness that’s shocking even to me, and I’ve been here awhile. He’d commit murder in broad daylight if he thought he could get away with it, then go out to lunch afterward and sit there chatting away with a smile on his face. He enjoys hurting others, and he’ll never stop. So I must ask, David, what do you intend to do about this? Because if you can’t answer that question, you’re a dead man walking. His sort don’t back down easily; they only respond to absolute authority, and he doesn’t see you as such. You’re not even a competitor in his eyes. You’re no better than a subordinate—one who was placed in a position of power to accomplish his ends, only to be discarded when you’re no longer useful. That’s what’s happening now, if his actions are any indicator. You’ve become a liability, and he plans to replace you. You’ll be dead, and the war will continue, unless you act soon.”

Harlow sighed. “I’ll think of something.”

“I’m sure you will, but whatever it is, I suspect it won’t be enough. It’s far too late for preventative measures. And lest you’re thinking of negotiating, that’s no good either. Wittenauer made a career of appeasement, and look where it got him.”

Harlow remained quiet as he absorbed these words, and when he finally responded, his voice had a defeated note to it. “I’m so tired, Howard. I’m too exhausted to think, and I’m too weak to function. So tell me, what do you suggest?”

“Honestly?” Howard shrugged. “Run. If you truly wanted to save your life, that’s what you’d do. You’d resign, pack your things, and leave tonight. But you’re better than that, and I know you won’t, so your next option is to remove General Lin from office.”

“How would I go about it, though? We can conduct a court martial, but I’d have to ensure a fair outcome, and I don’t trust anyone these days, least of all the Council. I could always have him discharged by executive order if I want, but . . .”

“David,” Howard interrupted, “even if you did, do you think he’d heed that directive? He’ll never voluntarily surrender command, and he’s got enough officers in his sphere of influence, I doubt anyone else would enforce it either. He’s grown powerful enough to orchestrate a coup simply by virtue of refusing to leave. He’s above the law, and he cares nothing for it. No, the only way to handle someone like that is to remove them permanently and decisively. Nothing short of that will ever stop him.”

“I don’t see a way, though.”

“You don’t see a way to do it legally, you mean.”

Harlow lowered his voice. “What are you suggesting?”

Howard didn’t respond. Instead, he reached inside his jacket, removed a pistol from where it was holstered, and held it out, grip-first, toward him.

“Have you forgotten how to handle these things?” he asked.