2075 - Space Corps Central Command Office
Harlow looked down at the gun, then glanced back up to meet Howard’s eyes.
“This is wrong.”
“Is it?” Howard answered. “Some would say murder’s always wrong, but what if taking one life saved many more, including your own?”
Harlow’s gaze fell back to the gun.
“Do what you need to do,” Howard said.
Harlow hesitated for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice shook as badly as his hands. “How? You’re not only suggesting I assassinate a general, but that I do so without getting caught. In addition to violating every code of ethics I’ve ever sworn to uphold, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“No, you don’t, but the longer you wait, the worse it’ll be. You’ve openly defied him, and he won’t tolerate such indignities much longer. Your time’s running out.”
“There’s got to be another way.”
“I don’t think there is. I’ve been here a long time, David, and I’ve seen what becomes of those who oppose Lin’s sort. I guarantee he’s done exactly what I’ve just suggested, and likely worse, many times over. If he wants you out of office, he won’t waste time doing it legally; he’ll simply kill you. The only reason they bothered with a hearing for Wittenauer was because he’s wealthy and influential enough to be afforded a proper investigation, should he turn up dead. You’re not.”
After another pause, Howard shrugged again. “Lin will never play by the rules, so neither can you. In order to be evenly matched, you’ll have to resort to his tactics. Whatever you decide, though, do it soon, or he’ll make the choice for you. You can’t afford to give him that advantage, because if he comes out on top, he’ll simply find another to take your place, and the war will continue. But if it’s you, then maybe we’ll have a chance of ending this.”
Harlow closed his eyes, and his hands were trembling even more now. “I’m going to need help.”
“Yes, you will, but unfortunately, it can’t come from me. Most of that Council supports Lin, or at the very least fears him. They know I’m no friend of his, and they’ve got me under heavy surveillance. This is beyond my capability to fix, otherwise I would’ve done so. None of them think you have it in you, though, which makes you perfectly suited for it.” He lowered the gun and sighed. “I know you’re walking an intimidating path, and you’ve been asked to do it alone. I’ve done what I can, but ultimately, you’re the one in the chief commander’s chair, and it’s your decision.”
Harlow took a deep breath and stared at the floor. “I . . .”
He trailed off as the words caught in his throat, then shook his head. “I can’t do it, Howard. I had no business accepting this role, and we both know it.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“David,” Howard met his eyes, and that sense of earnestness returned. “There’s no such thing as neutrality here. They’re forcing you to make a choice, and none of those choices are going to feel easy, moral, or right. It’s immensely unpleasant, but you’ve got to choose, nonetheless. That’s their doing, not yours.”
Harlow returned a frustrated shrug, then looked away.
After a few seconds, Howard returned the gun to its holster, stood up straighter, and shifted nervously, as if debating whether to say more.
“There’s something I’ve never told you,” he began. “It might not be the best time, but I think you need to hear it.”
After a brief pause, he lowered his voice. “Do you remember that day?” he asked. “When you were in prison, I mean? The incident we’ve never spoken of again?”
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Harlow’s blood ran cold, and he replied with a stiff nod.
Howard seemed to sense his discomfort. “I know it’s an unpleasant memory, but trust me, I wouldn’t be bringing it up without good reason.”
Harlow nodded again. He felt a creeping sense of numbness now.
Howard took a deep breath and stared straight ahead. “I knew what those guards were doing to you. I could tell after the first few visits that something was wrong—something you weren’t telling me. It didn’t take much guesswork to figure out what.” He shrugged. “I had no proof, of course, but I suspected it, so I made sure I caught them in the act. I’d imagine they never bothered you again, did they?”
Harlow shook his head.
“Have you ever wondered why?”
Harlow closed his eyes and returned a shaky nod. “I looked up their files,” he said. “Many years later, when I finally worked up the courage. I saw that one of them died not long after that incident.”
“Yes, he was killed on duty. It was an accidental discharge—a fatal injury sustained while cleaning a weapon that was supposed to have been left unloaded. Most attributed it to carelessness, as he was the worst of the lot; he had a history of drinking on the job and mishandling firearms. Nobody questioned it, but the others seemed to fear that it might be a contagious case of bad luck, because they all resigned shortly after.”
Harlow knew that gun. It was the standard-issue pistol given to officers and security staff, and it was nearly impossible to miss a round loaded in the chamber.
“That was no accident, was it?” he whispered.
Howard shrugged. “I did everything I was supposed to, which meant reporting that incident on your behalf, filing a formal complaint, and personally speaking to the warden. I’m usually a pessimist, but I’d hoped that would be enough. I thought my rank might lend me some pull.” His jaw tensed. “But of course, it didn’t. It wasn’t my department, so a formal inquiry only went so far, and the warden, quite frankly, was a lazy bastard who did fuck-all. He was protecting those guards, and had been for quite some time.”
He clasped his hands together tightly in front of him. “I looked up their records. It was sickening, what they’d been allowed to get away with. I’d assumed they’d try to bury that event, or at the very least take measures to hide it, and I was prepared to go to great lengths to dig up whatever trail they’d left behind. As it turned out, though, there was no need. They were shockingly candid about their behavior, and I found a record of that incident in each of their files, unsealed and available for anyone to read, resting atop a stack of similar reports.”
His voice was shaking now, too. “The sheer volume and nature of it all was just . . . staggering. I knew they were serial offenders, but I hadn’t realized the scope of it. There was so much to find appalling there, it was difficult to say which part was worse, but the rote banality of it all bothered me the most. The prison treated it like an inevitability. They knew, David, and they never did a single damn thing to stop it. Skimming through those reports was like reading a series of essays—events narrated in clinical detail by a disinterested party—yet each one represented the violation of a vulnerable, imprisoned youth.
“That’s when I realized these weren’t merely opportunists, but individuals who’d deliberately sought out positions that would allow such abuses of power. Then they’d found each other, and protected each other, and enabled each other. They did it hundreds of times to dozens of victims, and none of it was ever properly addressed. We both saw their behavior firsthand—you don’t get as bold as that unless you’ve been led to believe there will never be consequences.” He shrugged. “I went through all the proper channels, and I realized there would be no recourse. All they ever got was a verbal warning, then they were transferred to another unit to resume their duties. So I ended it, David. I did what I had to do.”
A long silence followed.
“Make it look like an accident,” Howard finally said. “It’s not as difficult as you might think, with the right bit of planning.”
Harlow closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. “This isn’t some lowlife prison guard we’re talking about, though. It’s General Lin.”
“Yes, your situation is a bit more difficult. Not impossible, though.”
Harlow opened his eyes, and as he looked on, General Howard reached into his pocket, removed a pencil and a wrinkled scrap of paper, and hastily scrawled something down. “I can’t be of much help right now, but I can provide a small bit of guidance, at least.”
Harlow leaned closer, but frowned when he saw what was written there.
It was a single name.
“Look into that,” Howard said as he crumpled it up and put it away. “This person might—might—be able to provide assistance. Be discreet, and be quick about it. Leave nothing in writing. I’m being watched very closely, so if I were to contact them, it would arouse far too much suspicion, but you might have better luck.”
With that, he stood up straighter, adjusted his jacket, and reached for the door handle.
“I should be going now,” he said. “My trousers are probably done, and if I stay much longer, they’ll come looking for me.”
Harlow nodded, and Howard returned a parting glance in his direction.
“Get it right the first time,” he said as he opened the door and stepped out. “You won’t have a second chance.”