Ure Infectus (Imperium Cicernus Book 4) (27 page)

Jericho snorted, and Tera St. Murray’s lips tightened in a
hollow smile. “She controls every facet of the media here on Philippa,
Investigator,” St. Murray explained. “Her family and its allies used that
control incite the people to revolt against the Marquez administration. But the
truth is that under Governor Fernando Marquez, Philippa had taken real strides
toward economic independence—primarily by taking advantage of Pacifica’s
element-rich rings, which are more valuable than any other location in the
Sector by at least ten times.”

“If these rings are so rich, why weren’t they exploited by
the Imperium’s engineers centuries ago?” Masozi asked as she saw that nearly
all of the real estate transaction records she was seeing were actually
long-term leases with exclusive mining rights clauses, and they appeared to
govern individual regions of Pacific’s rocky rings. They were assigned to
individual owners, and seemed to be a kind of non-transferrable system of
ownership which allowed the lease-holder to work the area as long as they were
able. But ownership would revert back to Philippa’s government in the event
that a claim went unworked.

“No one knows,” St. Murray shrugged, “but the rush to work
these claims brought with it a wealth undreamt of by Philippa’s populace, and that
rush lasted for nearly forty years. From all over the Sector, families would
sell their holdings and invest in a claim here in orbit of Pacifica. Thousands
of those families became extremely wealthy, while thousands more failed to
secure sufficient returns and were forced to take up residence here. My own
grandparents were among the less fortunate,” she said with a brief look to
Jericho, who appeared not to notice.

“The short version,” Jericho said, turning to Masozi, “is
that there was resistance to these mining efforts from Philippa’s wealthiest
families each and every step of the way, but Marquez fought through. Naturally
he needed the assistance of powerful allies to deal with such deeply-entrenched
enemies. You’ve already met one of those allies.”

Masozi gave him a questioning look until realization dawned.
“Hadden,” she breathed unthinkingly, and St. Murray cocked an eyebrow.

“
You
have met S.R. Hadden, Director of Hadden
Enterprises?” she asked in a challenging tone.

“She has,” Jericho interrupted before Masozi could reply, “
shortly
before his home was attacked by the VSDF.”

St. Murray inhaled sharply. “You mean he is…”

“Dead,” Jericho replied with a curt nod before turning to
Masozi, “Hadden Enterprises provided the mining equipment for the families who
staked their claims here, and those materials were provided for less than their
cost to manufacture and distribute. In exchange, Hadden Enterprises put in
standing order prices for every single mineral produced by the small-hold
mines. He also requested the option to match any purchase price an individual
could prove they had secured from another source.” Jericho gestured to the
screen with the mining leases still scrolling by one at a time, “The elements
mined here became the backbone of H.E.’s Phase Drive technology, and Hadden
worked closely with Marquez to ensure that the miners were treated fairly while
infusing Philippa with a source of income unheard of for a colony of its size.”

St. Murray nodded, her eyes widened briefly. “Director
Hadden is thought of as a true benefactor of this colony,” she said slowly.
“His passing will be mourned.”

“You won’t have time to mourn it,” Jericho said darkly, and
the two exchange a meaningful look which Masozi did not understand but which
filled her with even more dread.

“True enough,” St. Murray agreed after a momentary pause
before turning to Masozi and pointing a single finger at the screen which
contained the data she had pulled up minutes earlier. “This record describes
the absolute damage which Governor Keno has done to Philippa’s economy,” she
said coldly. “Her first act in office was to de-fund the program which provided
families with the legal assistance required to secure and maintain their
claims. Her second action,” St. Murray’s lips twisted contemptuously, “was to
provide a legal framework for a claim to be sold back to the Philippa
government. As a result, only a handful of the most successful families were
able to maintain and operate their claims, while the rest promptly sold their
claims and left Philippa behind. But one by one, even those families which were
wealthy enough to continue working their interests sold their stakes. Not a
single mine is in operation in Pacifica’s Ring today…officially.”

Masozi felt her hands tighten into fists at her sides. “How
did she get away with this?” she demanded, angrier at this situation than she
had ever expected to be. “Why wouldn’t the people stand up—they’ve reelected
her FOUR TIMES!” she snapped.

Jericho snickered, and Masozi turned to him to see a look of
approval on his face. “As Madame St. Murray said,” he replied before gesturing
to the plethora of data feeds streaming into the room, “the Keno family
controls the media. And the Governor is their most celebrated
personality—whatever she says, the people believe.”

“There is a small underground which collates feeds like
this,” St. Murray said with a short nod to the monitors, “but we can only
disseminate information to roughly ten percent of Philippa’s citizenry. If we
went for a broader distribution network we would be crushed just like those who
have gone before us.”

“And that’s not the best part,” Jericho said knowingly
before pointing to the T.E. insignia in Masozi’s hand. “The best part is what
you’re holding in your hand: proof that Governor Keno has privately taken over
each and every profitable mine in the Ring and has been secretly funneling the
rare elements out of the system. If my suspicion is correct, we might even be
able to tie her activities in with the most powerful office in the Virgin
System, but we’ll need Benton to make that determination.”

Masozi felt cold fury welling up inside her. “How much?” she
asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she felt a surge of anger unlike
anything she could have previously described. “How much has she stolen from her
people?”

St. Murray downloaded the information on the readout which
Masozi had been studying onto a data crystal, and then handed that crystal to
her as she said, “It is impossible to calculate—“

“No,” Jericho cut in, “it’s not.” He shook his head and flexed
his jaw as he looked around at the room for a few seconds before finally
saying, “According to Sector-Gov’s census data, Philippa’s population currently
stands at just over three million souls which
is
more
or less consistent with its number under Marquez. In per capita GDP, this
colony’s economic output under the Marquez Administration was over one million,
three hundred thousand credits per person. Today, under the Keno clan, it’s not
even nine hundred thousand.”

“Those are rate statistics,” St. Murray reminded, and Masozi
was almost unable to come to terms with the numbers being bandied about.
“Assuming a linear decline in GDP, and factoring in a fifty year period of
productivity per citizen—a number which is probably high, given Philippa’s
decaying healthcare system—this means that the total damage to Philippa’s
economy under the Keno family has been—“

“Four hundred…billion credits?!”
Masozi reared back in shock as she said the words. The number made absolutely
no sense, even to her scientifically-inclined mind.

“That number is only informative to a point,” Jericho
chided. “The real damage has been, quite literally, four hundred thousand
‘lifetimes’ of productivity which Governor Keno has stolen from her
constituents by shutting down the frontier mining initiative. Even if we only
attributed five percent of the decline to the Governor directly…”

“Twenty thousand…” Masozi breathed in disbelief. “How much
did she steal?”

Jericho smiled tightly and nodded. “That’s the right
question, Investigator,” he approved. “We could have only guessed without the
information Madame St. Murray is about to provide us.” He then turned pointedly
to Tera St. Murray, “How much is it, Madame?”

St. Murray bit her lip briefly before replying, “Our covert
surveys, made possible only with Hadden Enterprise’s assistance, show that the
richest mining operations fully quadrupled their collective output after the
last claim was abandoned by its rightful owners.” She exhaled slowly as she
concluded, “By now they’ve easily mined over a trillion credits worth of
minerals—a value based solely on Hadden’s standing order prices.”

Jericho nodded as Masozi’s mind reeled from the data. “And
they’ve been careful about covering their tracks,” he said pointedly as Masozi
tried to come to grips with how horrific the crime against Philippa’s people
appeared to be. “We haven’t been able to trace a single credit back to
Pacifica’s Ring…but we caught a break when Benton discovered a small,
underground market for these rare elements operating on Virgin. To make another
long story short, my investigation into the matter led me to a man named Janus
Angelo. He was formerly an official in New Lincoln whose bribe had been
partially paid in complex indium, gadolinium, and yttrium matrices. Those
matrices’ constituent elements were traced back to Pacifica’s Ring—they were
also proven to have been mined, and processed, in the last six months.”

Silence hung over the room as the workers at the various
workstations quietly continued their tasks of compiling and transferring data
from the System’s various data feeds. Masozi could barely believe that an
official would be so corrupt…and that such a corruption would not only be
permitted to linger, but that it wouldn’t be commented on by the other
governments of the Sector.

And then, in a flash of understanding, she understood why
they needed to act quickly. “If she gets to the Summit—“

“Then she’ll be placed under maximum security by Blanco’s military
forces,” Jericho interrupted grimly, “and we’ll never get another shot at her.
It’s obvious that Governor Keno is aligned with President Blanco, and that
Hadden Enterprises was one of their most powerful mutual enemies. Retaliation
against her by Hadden’s now-disparate loyalist factions would be a mathematical
certainty in the aftermath of H.E. One’s destruction, so we have to expect
Blanco to circle the wagons.”

“You two should go,” Tera St. Murray said shortly, “I’ve
given you what you came for and we need to dismantle this site as quickly as
possible now that we’ve passed the information along.” She shook her head in
wonderment, “I never thought a qualified T.E. Adjuster would make it here in
time.”

Jericho smirked, “My appearance here coinciding with
Governor Keno’s suddenly precipitous fall in approval rating is far from a coincidence,
Madame St. Murray.”

“I only wish we could have thanked Director Hadden
personally before…” St. Murray trailed off. “I fear we can provide you with no
more assistance in this matter, Adjuster.”

Jericho shook his head sharply, “We won’t need anything
else, Madame. You’ve given us everything we could have asked for.”

Nearly an hour later, Jericho and Masozi came to a tavern in
the main settlement. They had left Madame St. Murray’s establishment and made
their way for the main portion of the settlement near the crater’s center.

“You have to drink extra water in this atmosphere,” Jericho
explained as they sat down in a corner booth of the darkly-lit structure. “Your
lungs dry out faster than they would on Virgin.”

A server brought them a container of water and a pair of
metal mugs. Jericho poured them each a glass before gesturing for Masozi to
take her pick of the two.

Masozi’s thirst had grown slightly but she suspected the
odd, burning sensation in her lungs was precisely what he was talking about.
She downed a mug of water, finding it incredibly sterile-tasting compared to
the water she had grown up drinking.

“It takes a little getting used to,” Jericho admitted before
downing his own mug of the stuff, “but water’s one of the most precious
commodities on a world like this one. The atmosphere doesn’t retain it as well
as on Virgin, or any other Core World with a homeostatic biosphere for that
matter, so they’re constantly bringing in comets and breaking them up in orbit
before letting the remnants impact safely near the poles.”

“You seem to know a lot about this place,” Masozi said,
already having deduced that he had lived on Philippa by his familiarity with
the customs and equipment.

“It’s true,” Jericho admitted after pouring her another mug
of water, “my family came here not long after I was born. Philippa was all I
knew…until we had to sell our mine back to the government.”

Masozi was half-finished with her second mug of water before
she set it down and realized that his admission made perfect sense. “That’s why
you want to punish Keno,” she concluded with a slow nod.

Jericho shrugged. “To my mind she’s at the top of a very
short list of people requiring Adjustment,” he replied in a low voice. “But I
haven’t acted against her because I didn’t have the evidence.”

“Speaking of which,” Masozi said, producing the T.E.
insignia and sliding it across the table, “this should have everything you need
on it now, right?”

“Not quite,” he replied as he stood abruptly from the table,
“I have to hit the head. The last pieces of evidence are on St. Murray’s data
crystal; load them up while I’m gone.”

Jericho made his way to the ‘head,’ which Masozi took to
mean the lavatory, and she hesitated before doing as he had suggested. Placing
the crystal against the T.E. insignia, she was once again rewarded with a rapid
sequence of flashing lights. But this time the display was over much more
quickly, and she took a moment to study the insignia itself. It was a pair of
triangles which formed a six-pointed star, at the center of which was a large,
unblinking eye. Surrounding that eye, on the sides of the ‘inner,’ or ‘topmost’
triangle were the three mottos of the Timent Electorum:
Ure Infectus
,
Sic
Semper Tyrannis
, and
Mors Proditores
.

As a young girl she hadn’t really understood their meaning
but now, after spending time with Jericho and contemplating the whole situation
at some length, she believed she had a reasonable idea of what they meant.

The verbiage was from a long-dead language of Ancient Earth,
and the first phrase,
Ure Infectus
, roughly translated to ‘the corrupt
shall burn.’
Sic Semper Tyrannis
, the second phrase, meant roughly, ‘the
same for all tyrants.’ And
Mors Proditores
quite clearly said, ‘death to
traitors.’

As she was thinking about the T.E.’s mandate, Masozi noticed
a public access node which her data link could connect to. Her mind was
bombarded by possible actions when she saw it, and she knew that she might not
get another chance to generate any leverage against Jericho if he was less than
agreeable to her desire to leave his company.

While he was still in the lavatory, Masozi entered the
access codes to her link and was rewarded by a simple connection protocol which
successfully connecting her data link to the settlement’s secondary information
nexus.

She scrolled through the public services until finding the
one she was looking for and, after a brief moment of hesitation, she saved the
connection she had found to the slate and set it to a five minute countdown to
activate. If she failed to swipe her finger across the screen during that time,
it would automatically make the connection she had saved. Masozi truly hoped it
would not come to that, but if it did she was determined not only to safeguard
her own safety but potentially the safety of hundreds…or even thousands of
civilians.

Jericho pushed the swinging doors open and Masozi smoothly
replaced the link in her pocket as she took a look at the room’s chronometer.
Five
minutes
, she reminded herself as Jericho sat down across from her in the
booth.

“How is an Adjustment initiated?” she asked as she finished
her water. When she had done so, she emptied the remaining contents of the
larger container into their mugs more or less equally and began to sip on her
own, third, cup of the sterile-tasting liquid.

“There’s a formula,” Jericho replied after taking a sip of his
own water. “Sudden downward shifts in approval ratings are one component of the
formula, while overall approval is another one. Obviously there’s more to it
than that, but in the case of Governor Keno her Adjustment was essentially
requested when her approval rating plummeted from ninety two percent to forty
eight percent over the course of the last six months before once again
beginning to climb.”

“That’s it?” she blurted disbelievingly. Masozi simply could
not accept that approval ratings could determine whether or not an official was
assassinated.

“No,” Jericho replied measuredly, “that’s not ‘it.’ That is
just one way in which an Adjustment may be initiated. But remember,” he pointed
to the T.E. insignia, “there’s a process of discovery and verification which
needs to take place before an Adjustment is green-lit.”

“Who checks your work before you execute an Adjustment?” she
asked. “I can’t believe that Adjusters never make mistakes?”

“Oh, we’ve made mistakes,” he allowed with a derisive snort.
“But the answer to your first question is ‘nobody.’ We communicate to each
other using public messaging systems, some of which Benton probably showed you,
but even then we don’t say anything other than the fact that an Adjustment has
been initiated. We don’t even give our names. After it’s been carried out the
Adjustment is verified by a senior Adjuster as having been done in accordance
with the T.E.’s mandate. That’s basically it; it’s nowhere near as complicated
as you might think.”

“That doesn’t seem like it would work,” she argued, “you
said the Keno Adjustment would be highly sought after. Why wouldn’t someone
here on Philippa just take care of it?”

“There aren’t as many of us as you might think,” he replied
between sips of his water. “Also, higher-level Adjustments like the Governor’s
can only be undertaken by an Adjuster who has accrued enough RL—Redeemed
Lives,” he said before fixing her with a hard look. “I can’t reveal the
formula’s specifics to you right now, but there are only two Adjusters in this
entire System who could have even qualified for the Keno Adjustment. You’re
sharing a drink with one of them…and there’s reason enough for me to believe
the second would have little interest in pursuing this particular Adjustment.”

Masozi considered his words, which alarmingly seemed to
suggest that there was some measure of discord within the Timent Electorum’s
ranks.

“I’ve been hesitant to reveal some of these details to you,
Investigator,” Jericho said as she silently mulled over the implications of her
society’s last line of defense against political corruption having been
compromised. “But it seems I may have been wrong to exclude you to this point.
So I’ll start by saying that no Adjuster who reaches my level sets out to make
an Adjustment without multiple backup plans in place. Personally, I don’t
undertake an Adjustment unless I have three, distinct, methods I can use to
carry out the mission. Those methods must each provide a minimum of eighty
percent success likelihood, and I think it’s time I shared the ones I’ve
devised for the Governor’s Adjustment with you.”

Masozi felt her pulse quicken.
Will he actually tell me
about the bomb?
she
wondered silently, working
hard to keep the anxiety she felt from her expression.

“The first method I devised for this particular assignment,”
he explained as he withdrew a small key card similar to the one Masozi had used
to gain entry to her residential building back in New Lincoln, “involves a
long-range, high-powered, anti-material rifle.”

She took the key card in her hands and examined its
markings, burning the information contained therein in her visual memory.
Masozi had never failed to recall such information if she had specifically
attempted to remember it, and she handed the card back to him after memorizing
the seven part address code for the unit. “You’re a sniper,” she concluded.

“Among other things,” Jericho agreed, accepting the key
card. “I’ve run the simulations several thousand times, and they calculate a
ninety two percent success rate if I use that cannon, which is already set up
in the apartment this keycard unlocks,” he added before slipping the card back
into his pocket. “If we play our cards right there’s only a twelve percent
chance of discovery and capture.”

Masozi was terrible with ranged weaponry, and had never used
anything larger than an anti-personnel scattergun. She had discharged such a
weapon only twice, both times during a minor uprising among the natives of one
of New Lincoln’s seedier parts of town, so she knew she would have no
reasonable chance to succeed with such a weapon. “That’s one,” she said with a
slow nod, realizing as she did so the repercussions of her previous thoughts,
“what about the others?”

“The second,” he replied with a short laugh, “involves a
more…personal approach. I had the necessary equipment placed in the same flat
as the cannon a few weeks ago; it’s one of the only safe places I’ve been able
to find in Abaca, which is Philippa’s capitol city. This second method has a
slightly lower likelihood of success…I’d put it at around eighty nine percent
success. The problem is there’s a sixty percent chance of discovery and capture
since escape will be considerably more difficult.”

“Ok…” she mused, disliking his lack of definition as to what
this second method actually entailed. “But what about the third?” she asked as
she glanced up at the clock and saw that she had about three minutes left to
swipe the data link. If she failed to do so, the call would go through and not
long afterward the tavern would no longer be a safe place for either of them.
But she knew it was her only source of leverage and if she didn’t press him for
the bomb’s purpose in the mission now, she would never be able to forgive
herself.

“The third,” he replied, his expression hardening as he
swirled the contents of his mug, “is a failsafe…and I sincerely hope we don’t
need to use it. As a matter of fact, it’s time we returned to the ship to
retrieve it before making our way to Abaca. There’s a hoverbike stowed in the
Tyson
’s
stern cargo compartment that can get us there in just under twelve hours.”

“If there was a hoverbike…why didn’t we use it to come
here?” Masozi pressed warily.

Jericho shrugged. “I didn’t want to risk the bike being
logged during our visit here; if it was, we couldn’t use it to enter Abaca.
Besides,” he added with a hollow grin, “we needed the exercise.”

Masozi considered his reply and decided it was now or never.
“Your failsafe wouldn’t happen to involve a bomb, would it?” she asked in a low
voice, feeling an immense weight lift from her psyche as she did so.

Jericho’s eyes flashed briefly before narrowing. “What do
you mean?” he asked in an equally low tone.

“Don’t play stupid,” she hissed, glancing around to ensure
they weren’t attracting unwanted attention. “I saw the Southern Bloc markings—it’s
nuclear, isn’t it? Were you ever going to tell me!?”

Jericho also glanced around the room before leaning forward,
and Masozi leaned back instinctively as he did so. “You weren’t supposed to see
that,” he said as he fixed her with his cold, greyish eyes. “Besides, it’s only
a failsafe; if we work together there’s a ninety nine point nine seven percent
chance we can accomplish the mission without it.”

Masozi shook her head adamantly. “I can’t be party to that,”
she replied, threading her voice with iron.

“Too much—
“ Jericho
began in a
raised voice before taking a deep breath and peeling his lips back in a faint
sneer. “Too much has gone into the planning of this Adjustment, Investigator,”
he said, his voice carrying a dire, unspoken threat, “I can’t—no, I
won’t
allow those efforts to be in vain. In the
extremely
unlikely event that
we should fail in our earlier efforts, I have an obligation to ensure that the
target is executed…by any means necessary.”

“Including the slaughter of innocent civilians?!” she
retorted, barely managing to keep her voice to a harsh whisper as she felt hot
fury boiling up inside herself. “I could understand—and, strangely enough, I
even agree with—your mandate and function as an Adjuster. But I cannot,” she
shook her head
sharply,
“support the murder of
thousands of innocent people.”

“Grow up, Investigator,” Jericho snapped contemptuously. “Do
you honestly believe that there are
any
innocent people on this, or any
other, world? If you’d seen the things I’ve seen, and knew the things I know,
you wouldn’t let your childish notions of morality interfere with what needs to
be done.”