The Gap into Madness: Chaos and Order (86 page)

His old
voice seemed to lack any of the force which would have made it effective.
Nevertheless Hashi found himself listening as if he were entranced. Sixten had
a quality which counted more than force: he had frailty; the kind of earned
human frailty that only grew from long years of valour and probity. He was
persuasive because he’d earned the right to be.

“I
support the United Mining Companies Police,” he announced as if his quavering
were a form of strength. “I always have. I believe in the job they’re supposed
to be doing. What’s happened makes me even more nauseous than the rest of you.

“I want
to do something about it. All of it — everything you’ve mentioned. And
everything Hashi Lebwohl hasn’t bothered to tell us yet. I want to clear the
obstacles out of the Special Counsel’s way so he can do his job
right
.”

Hashi
feared that the captain’s voice would crack when he pushed it; but it held
firm.

“As it
happens, I know how. I’ve already done the work. All you have to do is vote on
it. Then our situation can start to get ‘better’.”

A
hundred people watched the old man as if they were as rapt as Hashi; eager for
what came next. They all heard Fane remark amiably, “You fascinate me, Captain
Vertigus.” A none-too-subtle reminder of his presence — and of the man he
represented. “What can you possibly propose that isn’t already being done?”

Sixten
ignored the distraction. Still leaning on his arms, still speaking in a high,
thin voice which threatened to waver out of control whenever he raised it, he
said distinctly, “President Len, fellow Members, I wish to propose legislation
which I call a Bill of Severance. This bill will decharter the United Mining
Companies Police as a subsidiary unit of the United Mining Companies and
reconstitute that organisation as an arm of the Governing Council for Earth and
Space.”

Decharter
— ?

Reconstitute
— ?

The
ensuing consternation gave Hashi a keen sense of pleasure. Members gasped. Some
of them actually turned pale; others turned to hiss urgently at their aides.
Secretaries clutched each other’s arms; advisers floundered. Igensard slumped
backward like a man who’d been pole-axed. In contrast, Fane rocked his bulk
forward as if he meant to launch it into the air. After a stunned moment fifty
or a hundred voices began gabbling at once.

Through
the confusion, Hashi heard Koina say softly, “Thank you, Captain,” although her
voice wasn’t loud enough to reach Sixten. “Thank you.”

“Please!”
President Len was on his feet, shouting to lift his appeal above the noise. “Members,
pleased!
” With his mace, he pounded the table as if he were belabouring
an assailant. “We must have
order!
”

After a
moment his shout — or perhaps the possibility that he might break his mace —
had an effect. Slowly the tumult eased. Flustered Members adjusted their garb,
straightened themselves in their seats; aides and advisers stopped talking and
started attacking their data terminals; some of the secretaries made shushing
sounds which others eventually heeded.

The
guard who had entered the chamber last left his post at the doors and took a
few steps along the wall across from and above Hashi’s position, then stopped
and stood still. Apparently he’d moved in order to improve his view of the
chamber.

Hashi
thought that Cleatus Fane would demand a chance to speak; but he didn’t.
Instead he subsided in his seat, brandishing his beard like a shield.

“That’s
better.” The President sounded like a peevish aunt. No doubt he was
hard-pressed to manage his own surprise — as well as his congenital fear of
consequences. When the noise had sunk to a persistent rustle of hardcopies and
whispers, he said, “I think you’d better explain yourself, Captain Vertigus.”

Sixten
had stood without moving while confusion poured down the tiers at him; now he
gave no indication that he’d heard any of it. As if he hadn’t been interrupted,
he resumed.

“The
entire bill has already been written. It can be enacted as it stands. If you
want to look at it, it’s available on your terminals.” In a flurry Members and
aides hurried to confront their screens. “Log onto the public files and
bulletins of the United Western Bloc, query my name, and enter the code word ‘survival’.
“ A sharp rattle of keypads followed, but he ignored it. “My proposed
legislation is there, complete.”

The
strain of holding his head up showed in a slight wobble, but he didn’t let
himself relax.

“While
you read, let me answer some of your more obvious questions.

“Because
of the crises we’re facing right now, my bill provides that the present
resources, personnel, and functions of the Police will be preserved intact. The
GCES Police won’t miss a moment in their defence of human space. And funding
will be supplied by a proportionate tax on all chartered corporations which
operate in space. Procedures for levying the tax are included in the bill. On
that score, also, the new Police will have no reason to falter.

“But if
so little is going to change, what do we gain by enacting this legislation?”

“My
question exactly,” someone put in — Hashi didn’t see who.

“In the
short term, obviously,” Captain Vertigus answered, “the primary benefit is that
the Police will now be accountable to
us
, not to the UMC. Special
Counsel Igensard will be able to pursue his investigation whether Holt Fasner
or
Warden Dios approve of it or not. But in the long term that one benefit will
produce hundreds of significant improvements.”

He
paused, summoning strength or determination, then went on more firmly.

“If we
pass this bill, we will finally be able to do the work we were elected for —
the work of defining and preserving humankind’s future in space.” Despite its
quaver, his voice took on a trenchant edge. “As matters stand, all we really do
is argue about decisions someone else has already made. Right now, today, it is
Holt Fasner who sets human policy. And his subordinates carry out that policy.
Occasionally he allows us to ratify some small part of his designs. The rest of
the time we might as well as be
asleep
.

“I want
to change that. We can.
We
can. We have the power. As humankind’s
elected representatives to the Governing Council for Earth and Space, we
have
the power. All we need to do,” he finished, “is make up our minds to pass
this bill.”

Finally
his head dropped. He supported himself on his arms with his head bowed as if he
were waiting for someone to pray over him.

In
front of Hashi, Koina sat with her hands at her sides like a woman restraining
an impulse to applaud.

If she’d
started clapping, he would have been tempted to join her himself.

How
many Members, he wondered, felt the same way? Sigurd Carsin appeared
nonplussed, dismayed by involuntary admiration for her Senior Member, whom she’d
always despised. Abrim Len fussed with his mace: he seemed to think his dignity
depended on the proper placement of his ceremonial rod. Vest Martingale looked
back and forth between Cleatus Fane and Captain Vertigus as if she wanted to
flee, but didn’t know where safety lay. Punjat Silat beamed like a benevolent
idol. Despite her reputation for serving on the Council only because it
supplied her with opportunities for sexual conquest, Blaine Manse studied
Sixten with a new glow of purpose on her face.

Hashi
would have looked farther, but his attention was attracted by movement among
the guards opposite him. The man who had stood at the door earlier changed
positions again, moving another three or four meters away from his original
post. Then he stopped once more. His face was partially in shadow: Hashi couldn’t
see his features clearly.

Now
what, Hashi asked himself, do you suppose that man has in his mind?

“Captain
Vertigus,” the Dragon’s First Executive Assistant asked solicitously, “do you
feel well?”

Sixten
didn’t turn his head. “Read my bill, Mr. Fane. It will tell you how I feel.”

Cleatus
Fane shifted his weight in a way which caused him to appear larger. “Then I’m
forced to say — with all deference to your years and reputation — that this is
preposterous.”

His
tone had a cloying, medicinal quality, as if he kept it sweet to make its
underlying bitterness palatable.

“In the
name of the United Mining Companies, as well as for the benefit of this
Council, I must mention several points which you have apparently chosen to overlook.”

He didn’t
ask permission to speak. He didn’t need it; he spoke for Holt Fasner, and
President Len made no attempt to stop him.

“First,
your assertion that the charter of the UMCP can be transferred to this body
without disruption — without ‘missing a moment’ — is pragmatically absurd. Such
things may be imagined in the abstract. In practice they do not occur.
Structural change has structural consequences. At a time when humankind’s
survival depends on the Police as never before, you ask this body to ignore the
inevitable upheavals — and their inevitable cost.”

Leaning
his elbows on the table in order to face Sixten more directly, Fane seemed to
expand again. His voice grew sharper; mordant behind its sweetness.

“In
addition, Captain Vertigus, you ignore the irrefutable fact that as a branch of
the United Mining Companies the Police are more effective than they can ever be
as an arm of the GCES. Under the present arrangement, the UMCP and the UMC
share resources and information, personnel and research, listening posts and
other tools. They must because those are Holt Fasner’s instructions. However
diverse their actions may be, their authority comes from a single source.

“At
present the UMCP are better informed, more mobile, and more powerful than they
could hope to be under any other arrangement.
Not
, I hasten to say,
because the UMC would ever withhold cooperation, information, or support from a
separate Police, but because the GCES and the UMC are inherently discrete
entities — unlike the UMC and the UMCP.”

Cleatus
Fane looked around the chamber, inviting the Members to agree with him — or to
disagree, if they had the nerve.

However,
Hashi no longer watched the First Executive Assistant’s performance. In a sense
he’d stopped listening. The guard who’d left the doors was moving again. When
he stopped, he was almost directly behind the section of the table where Vest
Martingale sat. Another shift of the same distance would put him behind Sixten
Vertigus: two more after that, behind Cleatus Fane.

Hashi
studied the guard, trying to get a clear look at his face.

When
none of the Members offered an opinion, Fane continued.

“Finally,
Captain Vertigus, I feel compelled to observe that your insistence on
accountability
is misleading. With all respect to this body, it is plain that
accountability to any group of men and women can not be as clear and absolute
as accountability to a single authority. At present the UMCP must answer to
Holt Fasner for everything they do. His personal commitment to the integrity
and effectiveness of the UMCP protects against any corruption.”

He
paused to give this assertion force. He might have been asking, “Is there
anyone here who dares to say publicly that Holt Fasner is not honourable?”

No one
did.

Fane
smiled. He could afford to be magnanimous.

“Matters
may appear dubious at the moment,” he conceded, “but I can assure you from long
and direct experience that the UMC CEO’s investigation will root out
malfeasance and punish treason better than any Council. The diligence and
dedication of the Council’s Members can’t compete with Holt Fasner’s more
intimate knowledge of the UMCP’s people and operations.

“If you
insist on disrupting the Police when so many crises are upon us, you will lay
all human space open to kazes — and worse. Yes, worse,” he insisted. “In fact,
I fear that any sign of confusion in the UMCP now would give all our enemies
the occasion they need to attack.”

Now at
last the features of the guard Hashi scrutinised caught the light squarely.

Quoting
shamelessly in surprise, the DA director whispered, “Now there’s a face that
flits upon my memory.”

Nathan
Alt. At one time Captain Nathan Alt, commander, UMCP cruiser
Vehemence
.
Until Min Donner had court-martialled him for what she chose to call “dereliction
of duty”.

Hashi
didn’t doubt for an instant that he was right. He trusted his vast memory. But
what in Heisenberg’s name was
Nathan Alt
doing here? In the uniform of a
GCES Security guard?

At once
the DA director turned in his seat and gripped the arm of the boy Forrest Ing had
assigned to him, Ensign Crender.

“Come
with me.”

Without
waiting for a response, Hashi rose and began working his way up the crowded
tiers to the back of the hall.

Sixten
Vertigus was a frail old man who might as well have been beaten. He made no
effort to look up or turn his head. Nevertheless he was the only one in the
chamber who answered the First Executive Assistant.