2075 - Space Corps Central Command Office
Harlow stared down at the desk and sighed.
“If there’s one question that’s most pressing of all, I guess it’s . . . why? Why is he doing this? Is there anything you can think of, Colonel Moore, that’s influencing Lin’s behavior? I’m not even referring to his greater motives—although I’d like to know those too—but he wasn’t always like this. He may have been one of the more contentious Council members, but he used to be well-spoken and reasonable. I know I’m relatively new to senior command, but I don’t recall him acting this way earlier in his career. Am I misremembering?”
Moore sipped the whisky again, then set the glass down. “No. He’s changed, and you’re not the first to have noticed.” He stared absently at the wall, as if carefully weighing his next words. “This is a demanding job, and in order to do it well, you have to be alert, both physically and mentally, at all times. That’s led some in his position to seek . . . alternatives to enhance their natural abilities. Most of us have a drink every now and then to calm our nerves, but this is far beyond that. He’s developed something of a drug problem, and he thinks it’s a better-kept secret than it really is. What used to be an occasional pick-me-up is now a daily habit, and since those substances don’t clear your system easily, he takes something every night to counter the effects, too. Otherwise, he’d never sleep. I think it was easy to cover at first, but when you spend years that way . . .” He sighed. “He’s never been a very pleasant person, to say the least, but in the past he was better at masking it. No longer, though. He’s angrier than ever, and he has zero interest in hiding it. So yes, you’re right—this isn’t who he used to be. The General Lin we’ve got now is impulsive and dangerous.”
Harlow pondered these words for a moment. “That makes sense. It explains some of his behavior, at least. Not all of it, though; I still don’t know what prompted him to turn traitor. Is he—”
Moore held up his hand. “Not so fast,” he said. He picked up the glass, took a long drink, set it down, and leaned back again. “For every question you ask, I get one too.”
Harlow inhaled sharply. “That wasn’t part of our agreement.”
Moore smirked in reply. “Are you really in a position to negotiate?”
Harlow closed his eyes and sighed. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
Moore shrugged. “Why haven’t you tossed him out on his ass yet? It seems odd, hearing these complaints from a chief commander. You could suspend him and personally initiate a court martial if you wanted.”
Harlow looked away. “I guess you haven’t heard about the visit he paid to my office, then,” he said quietly.
Moore frowned. “No, I haven’t.”
Harlow nodded. “He came up here Monday night, hours after that briefing, stinking of alcohol and ranting like a madman. I wasn’t even there—I’d gone back to my quarters—but he demanded a meeting; even threatened Victor and ordered him to hand over the keys. If Victor hadn’t had his sidearm on him and made it abundantly clear he was willing to use it, I think Lin might’ve hurt him . . . or worse.”
Moore drummed his fingers on the desk. “No, I hadn’t heard about that,” he said, “and that’s concerning, because I’m usually the first to know of such things. His security contacts must’ve buried that incident, and done so in such a thorough manner it escaped even my notice.” He leaned back in the chair again and looked away. “He wants you dead, and at this point it’s only a matter of time. Explains why you’re afraid, then.”
Harlow shrugged. “Not really, but the same can’t be said for the rest of that Council. I can’t take any measures against him without their support.” He took a deep breath. “I hope that answers your question as to why I haven’t ousted him yet. I’ve tried, although admittedly, not as hard as I should’ve. He’s taken extensive measures to ensure he can’t be removed from office, and he did it long before I was elected. The Council will never support me, and I’ve practically exhausted all of my options. I’m operating with full knowledge that I’m acting alone, which is why I sought your help.”
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Moore nodded. “If I didn’t have ample reason to hate him before, I do now.” He reached for the glass and took another sip. “Your turn. Ask away.”
Harlow thought for a second.
“What’s his primary motive?” he said. “I understand why he’s behaving erratically, but he’s not completely irrational. Someone must’ve offered him something in exchange for defying orders. What’s he seeking to gain from all this?”
Moore sighed.
“I wish I knew,” he finally said. “I’ve wondered the same thing, and even investigated to find answers, but it still eludes me.” He shrugged. “The best explanation I can come up with is that he’s primarily motivated by personal preference. There’s financial incentive, to be sure, but he’s not being blackmailed or operating as part of a larger group, so far as I can tell. Quite simply, he’s doing this because he enjoys it. I’d even go so far as to suggest it was the primary reason he joined the Corps. This was always the plan—he saw us as a stepping stone on the way to better things, and little else. He’s got far more ambitious goals.” Moore sipped the whisky again, then sighed. “I find that the most frightening option of all, honestly. Someone like that can’t be swayed by reason or bargained with, and there’s no negotiation they’ll accept. We can’t offer him a better deal because we won’t cater to his interests in the way he wants.”
Harlow shrugged. “It seems that some of his donors might be willing to, though.”
“Yes, although I suspect he’s lied to them as well. Most private corporations would rather not be named as overt participants in war crimes, and even those who don’t particularly mind it usually back off when faced with real consequences.” He drew a deep breath. “None of them expected you to oppose these measures so fiercely—in fact, most of us didn’t either. I don’t know what Lin’s told them, but I doubt they foresaw that. I don’t think they knew he was operating without his chief’s knowledge or approval.”
“Which explains why he wants a new chief,” Harlow said quietly.
They were both silent for a while.
Finally, Moore shrugged. “If there’s a single way to characterize General Lin, he’s the essence of corruption. Not the political kind, mind you, but the moral kind—a rare sort of ethical bankruptcy that defiles everything it touches. He views war as a game, and I’m not merely referring to the tactics, but the psychological aspect as well. You should see the way he treats resistance movements in those regions he’s conquered, and you’re right—even his own staff aren’t exempt from his reign of terror. He’s a warmonger in the truest sense, and he’ll continue until he’s stopped.” He studied the glass again and shrugged. “Before the war, I was a moral relativist. I didn’t believe in good and evil—not in the traditional sense. I simply thought everyone lay on a spectrum with potential for both. But after meeting the likes of General Lin . . .” he trailed off. “If evil exists, he’s the closest thing we’ve got to it.”
Harlow raised his eyebrows. “I used to think such statements were hyperbole, but after spending nearly a year in this office, I have to agree.” He sighed. “I know why he put me here. He thinks I can’t fight back.”
“Can you?” Moore asked.
Harlow was silent, and after a while, Moore shrugged. “If you don’t mind a bit of honesty, we all thought the same.” He studied Harlow carefully. “Why the hell haven’t you left yet?”
Harlow took a deep, measured breath. “I don’t feel like having that discussion today, Colonel Moore.”
But Moore’s gaze was unrelenting. “Are you being blackmailed?”
Harlow met his eyes, and his expression was stony as ever. “No,” he said. “Now, next question.”
Moore waited expectantly, and Harlow spent a moment in thought.
“He may be motivated by personal gain, but I know he’s not working alone,” he finally said. “He’s done a good job of hiding his contacts, because I keep hearing about these donors and associates, but I can’t name a single one aside from General Everett. Who’s he working for? Who’s paying him?”
Moore shrugged. “I don’t think he’s working for someone, but he’s definitely working with someone. Several, in fact—I don’t even know if they’re all aware of each other, but he’s got quite a few financial backers with vested interests in these latest ventures of his.”
He paused again, and Harlow could see that he was contemplating just how much information he was willing to divulge.
“I pulled his travel records,” Moore finally said. “He’s been gone a lot lately, and based on reports from his staff, he hasn’t been spending nearly enough time in the Thirty-Third to account for all his absences. I suspected he was courting corporate backers and diplomats, and on the Space Corps dime, no less.”
“Was he?” Harlow asked.
“Of course he was. Most of it seemed pretty innocuous—the occasional dinner here and there, or a meeting at a private residence—but there seemed to be quite a lot of them, and one, in particular, I think would be of interest to you.”