Warden: A Novel (35 page)

For the
people
of Le’sant.

He slammed his manacled fists down on the metal table in front of him, sending a loud clanging noise reverberating throughout the room. But Barent knew the gesture was not only futile, but largely self-indulgent. Because unless he counted the two empty chairs across from him, or the single locked cabinet sitting next to the room’s only door, there was no one else around to witness his frustration.

As he leaned back in the chair, Barent heard the locks disengage and the door swung open. He suspected it was just the guards again, performing their routine half-hour check on him. It was a pattern they’d followed fastidiously during the four hours Barent estimated he’d been held in the room—ever since the quiet and uncomfortable ride back to the city following his abduction at the breakdown facility. But as the door shut behind them, Barent was surprised to see a pair of visitors instead. He recognized one of them.

“The
Great
Betrayer,” the unfamiliar man said, a combination of scorn and amusement in his voice. “My name is Minister Golen.” He then gestured toward the second man. “I believe you already know General Malves.”

“We met at the breakdown yards,” Barent quipped. He stared at Golen for a long moment, pointedly sizing him up. “So you are the leader of the Collective. I have to admit, Golen, I’m a bit disappointed. You look no different than any other governmental apparatchik I’ve been forced to deal with over the years. I was genuinely expecting someone a little more impressive.”

Golen smiled insincerely. “Well I’m impressed with you, Sergeant Barent—a living legend, right in front of me. It’s quite an experience, I assure you.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Barent said. “I believe you’ll have some other new experiences very soon, Golen. Incarceration or death are my best guesses, but who really knows what the future holds?”

“You seem to underestimate your own predicament, Sergeant. I’m afraid that you’ll be the one dying today, not me.”

“Then I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see which one of us was right,” Barent replied. He gave Golen a confident smile, prompting a curious look from the head of the Collective.

General Malves remained standing near the door as Golen slid one of the chairs out from underneath the table, taking a seat directly across from Barent.

“Aren’t you afraid that I might try to kill you?” Barent asked him.

Golen smirked. “I think those shackles would make it most difficult. And I’ve read enough about you in the Vade to know that you wouldn’t kill an unarmed man, Sergeant Barent. The last testaments of your friends and colleagues tell us a great deal about your character. You really should read them sometime; they are quite fascinating. Unfortunately, I don’t think you’ll live long enough to get the chance.”

Minister Golen took a deep, exaggerated breath, and then worked to soften his expression. He clasped both hands together in front of himself, attempting to appear sincere. But Barent saw right through the well-practiced duplicity. Golen may have been a master manipulator, but his efforts were wasted on Barent.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Sergeant Barent, or urge you to cooperate with us in some hopeless bid to save your own life. I think you’re smart enough to realize that’s not going to happen. But by putting all of this behind us now—right here, in this room—we
can
save the lives of many others. The innocent lives of the citizens of Le’sant. Anyone caught up in this dissent you’re trying to foment will surely die. The army will see to that, Sergeant, I assure you. And their blood will be on your hands if we don’t work together to put an end to this unrest.”

Minister Golen reached inside his shirt pocket and pulled out a small electronic pad, sliding it over to Barent.

“I’ve taken the liberty of writing out a last testament for you, Sergeant. I even had it pre-formatted for inclusion in the Vade—and for broadcast as a general news release over the datanet. It explains in great detail how you are nothing more than an impostor fabricated by the Wardens—a pawn, in a misguided and hopeless effort to seize control of the government. I think you’ll find the story quite compelling.”

“You can keep your fairy tales, Golen. I won’t legitimize that document with a video statement, if that’s what you’d hoped.”

“Very perceptive, Sergeant Barent. I see that you understand how governments work.”

“Corrupt governments, yes. Your
Collective
was never what we envisioned for Le’sant.”

“Maybe not,” Golen replied. “But it
is
what was needed. My ancestors formed the Collective because they realized the only way to rule the prisoners was by force; a lesson learned first-hand from the guards, by the way. Our forefathers understood that a strong hand was necessary to maintain order in the city—so many of the First Ones were hardened criminals, after all. And by enforcing strict controls they were able to ensure stability. Everything they did was for the good of the people, Sergeant Barent.”

Barent chuckled as he leaned forward, closing the short gap between the two men until they were nearly face-to-face. He saw a glint of fear flash across Golen’s eyes.

Good.

“Violence is often necessary to win a kingdom, Golen. But if you still need it to maintain control after the war is over, you never really won.”

“And I suppose that you think anarchy is the answer?” Golen scoffed.

“Anarchy is an illusion—a temporary condition at best—and the only place it can endure is academia. Like nature, power abhors a vacuum. Kings, armies, religious or communal groups…someone or something always rises up, expanding their influence to fill the void. Authority is an immutable constant, and the only real difference between societies is
how
that power is wielded.”

“And that is exactly what my ancestors did, Sergeant Barent. They filled the void and brought order. The Collective instituted currency and created a free market, giving everyone in Le’sant the same opportunities to succeed. Each citizen now enjoys an equal chance to make a better life for themselves in the city.”

“It’s not equal if some of them are starting out a hell of a lot closer to the finish line,” Barent replied. “Or have you forgotten about the entire segment of Le’sant’s population living out on the fringes of the city? The people struggling just to survive.”

Golen waved his hand dismissively. “The downtrodden? You know nothing about them, Barent. You think that just because you passed through the Outland when you escaped that you have any real idea what they’re about? Despite the way they drag our society down, the downtrodden still enjoy the exact same benefits as everyone else in the city. We give those criminals Nutriall and allow them to vote. And still, they are ungrateful. Perhaps if they spent less time breeding and more time working, their lot in life would improve.”

Barent leaned back in the chair with a dismayed look on his face. “You act like the downtrodden are some kind of plague, Golen. Those are
people
dying out there. They should have access to food, and proper housing. And as for letting them vote, do you mean the opportunity you’ve provided to elect powerless figureheads? Representatives who cast ballots in fear, unable to promote the interests of their constituents because they know it might cost them their lives. The downtrodden’s participation in government is little more than a joke, Golen. You of all people know that. Democracy can be a deception. Just because you’re allowed a vote, doesn’t mean you have a voice.”

“And I suppose that you would just
give
them everything?” Golen replied, the disgust heavy in his voice. It was clear that Golen would gladly eradicate all of Le’sant’s poor if he thought he could get away with it. “You’d probably let the ranks of the downtrodden swell until all of our resources were stretched to the limit. Wouldn’t you, Barent? Until there was nothing left, and we are all just like
them.
You’d coddle them so much that they’d never try to improve their own condition. Why work hard and earn anything if you’re provided it all for free? But you wouldn’t be doing them any favors, Sergeant. And it’s not the government’s obligation to care for the poor, they have to take responsibility for their own lives.”

Barent shook his head slightly and gave Golen a bemused look. “A government’s sole reason for
existence
is to provide for the needs of its people, Golen. Why else would you even need one? Through taxation or outright ownership, governments control vast resources, and the benefits derived from them should be spread around equally, to all of its citizens. There’s nothing wrong with a free market, but there should also be a baseline subsistence guarantee for everyone. At a minimum, people should have access to food and housing—healthcare and education. And once those basic needs are met,
then
they can go on to lead productive lives, built off a solid foundation. Not everyone needs help, of course. But any who do should get it. Enclaves like the Outland can’t be allowed to exist, Golen. Not when you have so many others in the city with tremendous amounts of wealth—more than they could ever possibly use.”

Golen was incredulous. “So you believe that everyone should be held down to the exact same level?”

“No,” Sergeant Barent replied. “Of course not. People who work harder
should
reap greater rewards, but never at the expense of those less fortunate than themselves. There has to be a balance of interests in a fair society. Wealth can’t be allowed to amass in one segment of the populace while other citizens starve to death in the streets.”

“Ah,” Minister Golen said. “And there we have it: a concise recitation on the basic principles of your treatises.”

He shot a grave look at Malves. “You see, General? This is the nonsense he will spread if we let him live. The empty promises the Great Betrayer will make to the people of Le’sant. Promises that are impossible to keep.” Golen turned back to Barent, making no effort to hide the patronizing tone in his voice. “For a man of your experience, Sergeant, you are terribly naive. You have to know the things you suggest are mere fantasy. This notion of equality you promote is not only unworkable, but it’s dangerous. A genuine threat to our democracy.”

“Democracy,” Barent scoffed. “That’s just a word you use to control the people, Golen. But I can’t give you all the credit, because mankind has made it easy for you. Over the years, we’ve come to view the institutions of government as more important than the purposes they were meant to serve. And concepts like democracy and socialism have become sacrosanct—as if they are flawless ideals that should be worshipped. But they’re far from perfect, Golen. Every political system is riddled with faults, and unworthy of the esteem and deference we show them. Personally, I don’t care what form a government takes: democratic, communist, constitutional monarchy… Hell, even a benevolent dictatorship can work. It certainly has in the past, providing strong leadership that doesn’t suffer from the paralytic infighting between rival political parties that so often grinds democracies to a halt, or the emphasis of ideology and gamesmanship over the good of the people. I
prefer
a working democracy because I think it has the best chance of reflecting the will of the people, but I wouldn’t object to any form of government that treats its citizens with fairness and equality—and as long as it respects their rights as free individuals.”

Barent glanced over to find Malves studying his face intently, as if parsing every word for hidden meanings. The general’s expression was unreadable, but Minister Golen’s was as plain as day.

He simply couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“All governments exercise power,” Barent continued. “And in doing so they limit the freedom of their citizens to some extent. It’s what organizations and laws do, they restrict behavior. So what does it matter what you
call
that government, or how it’s structured? Over the millennia, humanity has become far too invested in labels and theory. But in the grander scheme of things the
form
of leadership is unimportant. It’s only how it affects the populace that matters.”

“What an interesting and ridiculous notion,” Golen said. “And what makes you such an authority on governance, Sergeant Barent?”

“Let’s just say that I received an extensive education during the incessant wars back on Earth. With national borders in a constant state of flux, I got to experience life under several different types of regimes. And most of them were violent and unfair.”

“Now that sounds like the ramblings of a disillusioned soldier,” Golen said.

“Any soldier who doesn’t comes back from war disillusioned either rode a desk during the conflict or was a general. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong, Golen. And Le’sant’s government is just as bad as any of those we left behind on Earth. In many ways, it’s actually worse. You’ve established nothing less than a police state in this city. Why do you even
have
an army? The police are enough to keep order, and Le’sant has no enemies. You maintain the army just so you can stay in power.”

Minister Golen laughed, a genuine outburst that caught Barent off guard. “Having a full five percent of the population armed and on our payroll does have its advantages, Sergeant. But the army was actually created to fight off any Earth ships that might show up and try to retake the colony. That reason disappeared long ago, of course. Because after five hundred years, it’s pretty clear to everyone that they’re never coming. But what you say is only partially true, Sergeant Barent. Our biggest asset in holding onto power has always been you.”

“Me?”

“Oh, yes. You.
The Great Betrayer.
The Collective has remained in power for half a millennium by following two very simple strategies, Sergeant: lethally removing any trace of dissent as soon as we uncover it, and undermining the real power of the Great Betrayer’s memory quietly in the background—while publicly building up your myth as a tool for our own purposes.”

“That approach may have worked in the past, Golen, but you can’t possibly believe the people will fall for your lies this time. They won’t buy this
testament
of yours, not for a minute.” Barent pushed the recording device back across the table. “If anything, it will only incense them further.”