2075 - General Lin's Personal Quarters
There would be no further pleasantries. The truth of him was revealed, in that moment—the hateful, spiteful, vindictive truth—and Harlow realized, now, exactly the kind of man he was dealing with.
Lin almost didn’t look human in this light. There was hatefulness in those eyes—deeper than anything Harlow had ever seen—and a sneer etched into those lips in a manner so permanent, it must’ve taken work to suppress it.
Whatever foul entity resided within carried no empathy, care, love, hope, or passion. The only master it served was one of greed and hate, and the only goal it sought to achieve was furthering its own ends regardless of the cost.
And in this moment, it could barely suppress its rage.
This must be what Victor had seen that night, Harlow thought, and he gained a greater appreciation for what Victor had done.
Lin’s face curled into a threatening smile. “I’ve given you an easy way out, young man,” he said. “You know exactly why you were elected, and you hold this position at the mercy of those who put you there. You’ve been allowed to get away with far too much for far too long, and that grace won’t be extended much longer. I’d take the offer, if I were you.”
“Or what?” Harlow leaned back in his chair again.
Lin leaned forward, closing the gap between them. “Do you really want to find out?”
Harlow kept his expression blank. “Are you threatening me, General Lin?”
Rage flashed across Lin’s face, and he sat upright.
“How dare you suggest that!” he sneered through clenched teeth. There were only a few inches between them now, and he jabbed a pointed finger in Harlow’s direction. “I’ll decide if that’s a threat or not. That’s my judgment to make, not yours.”
Harlow reflexively recoiled, and as he stared into those eyes, he realized that all sense of rationality had fled the discussion. This was no longer a debate; it was madness.
“General Lin, I’d appreciate it if you’d return to your seat,” he said in the calmest voice he could muster.
Lin remained there, holding his gaze for several long, tense seconds, but finally lowered his hand and backed off.
Harlow exhaled slowly, breathing a long sigh of relief. But Lin wasn’t through—he picked up one of the delicately etched glasses, studied it for a moment, then hurled it across the room with such ferocity that Harlow nearly jumped from his chair. It exploded against the wall, showering the floor with a mist of shards, and Lin let out a frustrated sigh at the sound.
“I should make you clean it up,” he said. “You come to my quarters, sit here as an invited guest, and disrespect me in such a manner . . .”
His voice trailed off, and he pursed his lips and looked away.
How very like him, Harlow thought, to destroy something beautiful in a fit of anger.
This man had no concept of value, he realized, beyond what could be exploited for his own benefit. Anything that couldn’t was to be destroyed—cast aside as though it were worthless.
And Lin knew he was aware. Harlow saw recognition in those eyes, but his own fear was something to be exploited as well, which was why Lin allowed it.
A few more seconds passed, and that hateful gaze slowly returned as Lin picked up the bottle of wine, filled the remaining glass, and took another sip.
“Your disrespect knows no bounds,” he said, “as evidenced by the fact that you’d hold back humanity’s progress on behalf of a few criminals.”
Harlow shrugged. “Who do you define as a ‘criminal,’ General Lin?”
The darkness in that gaze was his answer.
“It seems to be anyone who opposes you,” Harlow continued. “I suspect this is all a thinly veiled attempt to rid yourself of those who won’t do your bidding.” He shifted in the chair and sat up straighter, bringing a new infusion of confidence into his voice. “Have you told Anders? What would they say if they were to take part in this conversation and hear exactly what I’m hearing?”
Lin shrugged. “I doubt they’d find it particularly offensive. They’re not stuck on some pretentious moral high ground, as you seem to be.”
Harlow stared back. “I wish you’d tell the truth. The only reason you haven’t gotten rid of me is because you haven’t found the opportunity.”
There was no reply.
“Isn’t it?” Harlow asked.
“In time,” Lin smiled as he set the glass down. “You think you’re giving me the opportunity to walk away, but in reality it’s the opposite. This is your last chance to leave—or join me, one of the two—and I suggest you make your decision soon.”
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“And if I don’t?” Harlow asked. He maintained that stone-faced demeanor, but his heart was racing, and Lin saw right through it.
“Well, that presents a problem, doesn’t it?” Lin replied. “I’ve got a timeline set out for the Anders deal—contract negotiations, public announcements, and the like—and I’d prefer not to jeopardize any of that. I have a feeling you’re going to try, though.”
He idly dragged a finger along the rim of the glass. “I’m not going to chase you out of here as we did your predecessor; that would be unseemly. You haven’t demonstrated nearly the same level of ineptitude, and you’re not completely spineless, which is better than can be said for him. However,” he glanced across the table, “if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, then when that mining facility opens, you’ll be one of the first sent there. I’ll see to it personally.” He drew closer, and Harlow saw the darkness in those eyes, like black pits full of rage and contempt. “We’ve done it before, and we can do it again.”
Harlow shrugged. “Now you’re simply resorting to blackmail.”
“Yes, I am. But I’d like you to consider your options—you can either become a very wealthy man, or you can die imprisoned and forgotten. I don’t think you’ll be able to stay silent for long, so choose which suits you better.”
Harlow stared at him. “Before I make my decision, I’d like you to clarify something for me. What if, let’s say, a young person was sent there—someone like me, at eighteen years old? Someone who’d been unjustly expelled from a military academy, then sent to prison so no one would raise a fuss about it. How would that person fare in such an environment? How would you ensure an appropriate system of appeal, or a means to prevent abuse?”
Once again, there was no reply.
“That’s what I thought,” Harlow nodded. “Don’t think for a second that I’m unaware of why those rules were written, or why they were enforced in such a way. I know why I received a prison sentence for something that was only worthy of a light reprimand the year prior. You were trying to curry favor with senior command. And it worked, didn’t it? You were granted a Council seat within two years of my court martial.”
Lin said nothing, but his expression remained unbothered. He merely shrugged and took another sip of wine.
“What happens when such a system is abused by those in power to rid themselves of anyone they view as an inconvenience?” Harlow asked. “Those who don’t have the means to fight it? Because I suspect that’s actually your plan, General Lin. You’re not motivated by money; this war has been a losing venture from the start. But you saw the potential to eliminate political rivals, strike fear into those who oppose you, and remove ‘undesirables’ from our ranks. That purge you conducted all those years ago was just a test. Now you’ve found a way to institutionalize that abuse and enact it as permanent policy. It happened to me, and it’s going to happen to others, should this venture proceed, which is why I can’t support it. No amount of money will ever be enough.”
“How principled,” Lin replied. “There’s something you fail to recognize, though. One way or another, this is going to happen. Anders isn’t the only company running these simulations and conducting these tests; they’re simply the first to make it viable. If they fail, another will take their place. This is the future, and if we’re going to construct those mines within a reasonable timeframe, this is how it’ll be. It’s going to proceed with or without our involvement, so you can choose to fret the details and lose sleep over it, or become wealthy enough that you won’t have to care.”
Harlow shook his head. “We’ll never engage in such unethical dealings, and I say ‘we’ because I’m referring to you, as well. The Space Corps will have no involvement with this, nor will our officers.”
Lin smirked. “Well, I’m choosing to disregard that order.”
“It’s not an order,” Harlow said. “It’s a warning, delivered as clear as I can make it. I’m giving you a choice. If you were to resign and join the private sector on your own time, using your own personal connections and resources, I won’t stop you. I have no jurisdiction over what occurs outside these walls. But while you’re wearing that uniform and representing us as one of our highest-ranking officers, you’re bound by our code of conduct, so I expect you to behave accordingly. We’ll never be war profiteers, so if you feel the need to engage in such activities, do it elsewhere. But you won’t do it with our resources, or our operational capacity, or our staff. They’re done dying for you.”
Lin studied the glass again and spoke in an unbothered tone. “Enjoy life in prison, then—whatever sort of ‘life’ you’ll have there, if you can even call it that. I suspect it’ll be a short one.” He smirked again. “I might even pay you a visit, although I suspect it’ll be quite a bit less pleasant than Howard’s were.”
Their eyes met again, and Harlow saw the monster before him in truest form—one who didn’t merely facilitate evil, but delighted in it.
“I can’t imagine you’ll be visiting very often, given the demands of your job,” he replied. “Unless they’ve offered you a position there, that is.”
Lin scrutinized him for a moment, and even though his eyes remained unchanged, that smile fell just a little bit.
“You’re smarter than you look,” he said as he leaned back in his chair and took another drink.
Harlow shrugged. “What is it, then? Will you be an administrator? Head of security? Or simply an investor? All of those represent conflicts of interest, of course, but I doubt that bothers you anymore.”
Lin took a deep breath. “They’ve offered me the position of warden. And no, I see no issue holding both offices concurrently. I’ll probably retire from this one eventually, but not before the Corps is being managed as I see fit.” He cast a sharp glance in Harlow’s direction, and that smug grin returned. “You know, as warden, I’d be in charge of labor allocation and productivity. We could be seeing a lot more of each other, and trust me, if you fall out of line, I’d make sure you get your due. Everyone will fully believe you deserve it, too, because I’d give them ample reason.” He sipped the wine again. “As if being a f-ggot wasn’t enough.”
Harlow couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably at this. However, when he spoke again, his voice was firm.
“I’m sure I’d be the finest example you could ever set, but you’re not there yet. Right now I’m still chief commander, and you’re still a rogue general. Not only that, but the tide of opinion is turning against you. I think you’re genuinely worried this deal might not come to fruition, and I’m confident in that opinion because I’ve been watching you. Your fear manifests as anger, and lately, you’ve seemed a bit unhinged.” He leaned forward, clasped his hands together, and rested his elbows on his knees. “I gave you an easy way out, and you rejected it, so now I’ll be forced to fight back, and unlike you, that prospect doesn’t scare me. I wasn’t afraid when I accepted this position, and I’m not afraid now. So come at me, General Lin. Grab my shirt and shout a few threats in my face, like you did to Victor. Throw a chair at me, if you like. But when I leave this room—and yes, I will be leaving regardless of whatever you’ve got planned—I’m going to pursue justice through every avenue available to me, and that should frighten you very, very much.”
Lin remained silent for a while. He appeared to be considering these words, and after a long pause, he sighed, set the glass down, and stood up.
“I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but you’ve forced my hand.”