Poor Man's Fight (58 page)

Halfway up the ramp, he looked into
St. George’s
cargo bay. It looked identical to the cargo bay of
St. Jude
. He stopped, released a shuddering breath, and then boarded the corvette.

***

“Due respect, Mister President, this is bullshit.”

President Aguirre lifted his gaze from the holo screen on his desk. The make-up artist at his side instinctively stepped away. All conversation in the busy office ceased. “I’m not sure I hear much due respect in the way you say ‘Mister President,’ Frank.”

NorthStar’s appointed political advisor to Archangel looked for a moment as if he might be cowed by the president’s stern glare. He gathered his courage and pressed on, though with a barely softer tone. “Your system is almost a
year
behind its primary debt payments, sir,” complained Frank Andrews. “You have the ninth strongest system economy in the Union. Every indicator out of your system shows that you could absolutely afford those payments as originally scheduled. It’s not like Archangel is experiencing major financial hardships.”

“
And yet why are so many of my people completely broke, Frank?” President Aguirre asked casually. His eyes drifted back down to his speech. “We have numerous hardships. Per capita debts are as high as ever. Pirates plague our region. Our closest neighboring system has fallen into civil war, leaving us with significant security and humanitarian crises and forcing us to further expand our militia, while our corporate partners have repeatedly failed in their security obligations—“

“Mister President, are you
just reciting your speech at me?”

Once more, Aguirre’s eyes turned on Andrews, then flicked to his press secretary. “
Yeah. It’s a good speech.”

Standing to one side of the president’s desk in a black and crimson business suit, Andrea nodded with a tight smile. “Thank you, sir,” she said.

Aguirre turned his attention back to Andrews again. “You’ve been provided with a VIP seat, as has your corporation’s vice president. You’ll get to hear the whole thing soon. This being the most important speech of the year, I don’t exactly have time to give you my full attention. Sorry about that,” the president added without conviction.

Andrews swallowed hard. He knew perfectly well when this meeting was “squeezed” in before the Annual Address that it wouldn’t be a serious discussion. Still, he
rarely got in at all these days, and he couldn’t tell his bosses he turned an opportunity down. He had to try. Moreover, the president had to know whom he was dealing with.

“If your address includes a statement on a swift resumption of debt payments
and renewal of security agreements,” Andrews said, growing stern once more, “we won’t need to discuss the matter again.”

The president’s eyes flicked over to his chief of staff. Victor Hickman stepped in. “As the president said,” he interrupted, “you’ve got a good seat. We’re about to head over to the capitol in a few moments. I recommend you get there before us, or security will probably hold you up.”

Andrews held back a growl. “Thank you, Mister President,” he muttered as he turned and walked out. Silence reigned until he was gone.

“We might want to have an extra medical team ready to go for that man’s inevitable coronary tonight,” Aguirre said. He took a last look in the mirror, then glanced at Andrea once more. “It’s a
great speech.”

“Thank you again, sir,” she replied.

“You look good, by the way.”

“I’ll look
wonderful in my ball gown later, sir,” Andrea shrugged with mock arrogance.

“Oh yeah? You know, I’m looking for a date for that.”

“Pretty sure your wife has you covered, sir, and I’m already spoken for.”

“
Oh, right. I forgot. You’re cradle-robbing tonight.”

Andrea huffed. “After twenty years in politics, cradle-robbing is the least of my sins, Mister President.”

Aguirre grinned at her, then signaled to his aides and staffers that he was ready to go. “You’re not playing politics as usual, Andrea,” he said as they walked. “You’re helping me liberate our system from corporate oppression.”

Her face grew serious. “Are we ready, sir?” she asked quietly in the hall. “Are we ready for what comes next?”

The president stole a look to David Kiribati, one of the night’s “designated survivors.” The intelligence minister would not be in attendance tonight; if some disaster struck the capitol and claimed the lives of most of Archangel’s top officials, he would be among those to provide continuity. “Not yet, no. But we will be.”

Kiribati followed the president to the car. He offered up his good wishes as they departed, exchanged quiet nods with
Aguirre, and then departed for his own transport.

***

“Nervous?” Andrea asked.

Not for the first time, her date seemed momentarily tongue-tied. Tanner stood in his full dress uniform,
with several shining medals pinned to his chest and another that hadn’t been awarded in half a century hanging from his neck. They waited in a small, somewhat dark alcove to be announced as they entered the ball. Andrea stayed at his side all night, both through the president’s address and the ride over. She only parted from him to change for the festivities, and found him suitably awestruck when he saw her in her red gown.

Andrea
personally took charge of vetting him before he was awarded the Archangel Star, and in that time got to know Tanner better than anyone. Some of her staffers joked that her maternal instincts had finally kicked in at long last, but she reminded them that he was no child. Then they suggested she had other instincts at work.

To all appearances, she was only a few years older than Tanner. In truth, she was three times his age. Good longevity treatments could do that, if one had the money. She made a point of drawing as little of Tanner’s attention to
her real age as possible, distracting him instead with charm, wit and appealing visuals. She had plans for him after the ball.

She’d committed grave
r sins in her life. Young or not, he was no child.

“No,” Tanner
shrugged. “Sorry. Just thinking.” He seemed distant.

“About what?”

He didn’t answer at first. “I hated those guys.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The crew.
St. Jude
,” he frowned quietly. “I hated them. Practically all of them. They were shitty to me. Treated me terribly. So I hated them.” Some other dignitary’s name was called in the ballroom beyond them. Applause resounded not far away. Tanner looked down at the floor. His tone held steady; this was no breakdown, no moment of self-pity. He just had to get it off of his chest.

“They pushed me around, they insulted me all the time, they even stole from me, and I didn’t have it in me to do anything about it. I keep thinking about that. The president’s speech… he said nice things about them. I guess it was deserved. But every time I see Morales’s widow, or the captain’s, or any of the other families, I just keep my mouth shut because I don’t want to make them feel worse.

“They didn’t deserve to die. They did their jobs. They were brave. All that’s true, and I’m not trying to take that away. Maybe it’s petty of me to care about anything else. But all that talk about honor and virtue and…” he shook his head. “They were jerks.”

Andrea watched him with concern. “Do you feel like you need to say that to anyone else?” she asked.

“No. I don’t. I won’t,” he added with a smirk. “Just you and my military therapist.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“What would’ve been the point?” he shrugged. “Nobody really needs to hear all that. Not now. I just… felt like sooner or later I had to say it. Maybe that means I’m not so great, either.”

An aide popped his head around the corner, waving to Andrea with a questioning look. She frowned, held up two fingers, and waved him off. She turned back to Tanner.

He offered a small, apologetic smile. “I’m grateful to be here with you. But I know I’m just on my fifteen minutes of fame here. I’m still not even sure I belong in the Navy, and I’m positive I don’t belong
here
. I’m just a guy who screwed up on The Test and couldn’t get into college. So I just wanted to say thank you for tonight, in case I don’t get a chance to say so later.”

“Tanner,” she said, taking his hand, “you know it wouldn’t have been hard to set you up with someone tonight, right? There are an awful lot of pretty, famous women who’d love to be seen with you in that uniform of yours right now.”

“There isn’t anyone in the Union I’d rather be here with than—”

She
waved off his concern. “Thank you, but that’s not my point. Tanner, I wouldn’t have had trouble finding a dazzling celebrity date for this, either. I’ve done it before. I didn’t ask if you’d be my date out of charity. I wanted to go out with the guy who had the nerve to make a pass at the president’s press secretary a year ago while he was a nameless recruit holding a mop.” She squeezed his hand and watched her words sink in.

“
Important people jockey all year long for an invitation to this. Heads of state. Corporate presidents. Celebrities. Scientists. Royalty. Famous, powerful people from all across the Union. They’re all here tonight. Every one of them knows you’re the coolest guy in the room. I think it’s going to be that way for you for a long time.”

He blushed, which didn’t surprise her. He blushed—and smiled.

***

He’d been in worse spaces.

The cell was clean and warm, with metal walls and adequate ventilation. His sleeping space had an actual mattress of sorts, and sheets. The plumbing all worked. Moreover, he had the cell to himself.

None of that made it any less of a prison.

“Look, Aguirre wouldn’t make claims like that if he didn’t mean them,” said one of the voices around the corner from his cell. The sound carried loud and clear through the transparent fourth wall. “I just don’t think it’ll pass the senate.”

“Are you kidding?” countered the other. “You don’t go up for the Annual Address and say the government’s
permanently revoking all the corporate education charters
and
system security contracts unless you’ve already got the votes sewn up.”

“Oh, I’m sure he thinks it’s all sewn up, but there’s backroom dealing, and then there’s public reaction. How many of those senators are gonna suffer big blowback from their constituents for this? How many of ‘em are way deep in Lai Wa’s pockets? Or NorthStar’s? This is no done deal, my friend.”

“Hey, you assholes wanna shut the fuck up?” Casey shouted.

Silence fell in the hallway. Then
Casey heard the approach of footsteps. A husky man in security armor came around the corner. “What,” said the guy through his helmet, “you don’t like to talk politics?”

“Not with
Frick and Frack the Ignorant Prison Guards,” snorted Casey.

“You didn’t complain when we played the President’s Annual Address.”

“Professional oratory is fine, but I can feel brain cells die every time one of you talks like you know anything.”

“Fair enough,”
shrugged the guard Casey called Frack. He activated the holocom on his wrist. A screen appeared before him. The guard tapped a few of the holographic buttons, bringing up media videos from some sort of red carpet event. “If you wanna talk about something a little less high-brow, I’m game. See, this is the celebrity news feed for the after-party of the speech or whatever, right?”

Casey
groaned. “Just fuck off and die already.”

“No, no, I want to hear your expert opinion on this. You look like you’ve been around the block a few times, right?”
Frack kept poking at buttons, bringing up an alternate screen and then zooming in on images as he spoke. “See, this woman here is the president’s press secretary. Gorgeous, right? I mean, they say politics isn’t a game for beautiful people, but I guess there are always exceptions. Look at that figure, huh?”

Casey
glared at the image of the woman getting out of her luxury ride. His eyes narrowed as he saw the next figure emerge from the hovercar.

“And I guess they said this guy’s her date. You know him, right? He’s the guy who killed all your buddies and left you pissing blood. I heard he made you cry and everything. That true?”

Casey said nothing. The guard went on in his friendly, unbothered tone. “So he’s her date, which has gotta be just a political photo-op. Goodwill gesture for the troops. All that sort of shit. But still, check out that look in her eyes. That’s some predatory, older woman, I’m-gonna-eat-this-kid-for-dinner shit there, isn’t it? Don’t you think?”

Casey
scowled deeply at the guard, whose face remained hidden behind his helmet. “I think she’s gonna fuck him. My buddy out there disagrees. What do you think? You think he’s getting laid tonight? I think he’s getting laid. Hell, this is an hour old. Maybe she’s fucking him right now. You think?”