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Page 10.
6. Exalted
 Cyrus Mbe convened a crisis meeting of his dual cabinet (interior and exterior). He knew it would be contentious. He now had to manage not only his own enemies in the Starmeer, including the radical and fanatical Ankhmen as well as the increasingly bold representatives of alien races across the galaxy. Here, at Interior, he must now also face Chao’s long-time opponents including Ankh sympathizers and local surrogates of the powerful Raskian enemy.
“Center House isn’t safe anymore,” Cyrus overheard two ministers whisper between each other at the great rectangular table deep in the underground rooms of Olympia House.
The official building of the Interior government was Center House, whereas Exterior was housed at a vast complex half-in, half-out of the Dome, called Olympia House. This included not only the ancient Starmeer (now UGO or General Assembly) hall, but a prison complex with attached arena and amphitheater from the waning days of gladiator fighting—which was going out of vogue and Chao had hoped to ban it entirely during his administration.
Cyrus Mbe, a heavyset, middle-aged man rose, surveying the group at the table before him. Those he most needed and trusted were here, including Sselmore Shin, Advisor on Interpresidential Relations; the staff chiefs of his own delegation; and the ministers of the interior government, whose president he now was. The ministers could be trusted—they had to be trusted—but he wasn’t too sure of their feelings about him. In fact, a bitter rival of his was present—Rooster Fardin, who always raised objections and opposition to any issue at hand, in a most scathing and acid tone.
Cyrus cleared his throat to speak: “Thank you for coming at this late and urgent hour. This meeting is top secret. No one is to know of it, never mind what is said at it.” He paused and looked closely at the expectant faces surrounding him. “Yes, the President is dead.” Almost as though this were a statement to bring relief, suspenseful silence yielded to whispers and strange looks. “For the moment, I have assumed his powers in addition to mine, until further notice.” As executive delegate to the UGO, he was in effect the Exterior President. Now he was also Interior President in an unprecedented consolidation of powers. Most top officials were too scared to worry about such details now. They wanted to trust him to save the country, their families, and themselves.
“We have reason to believe that his death was caused by human hand.” This statement drew a few curious looks; but it was not unexpected enough to cause any excitement. Many enough must have suspected. They all knew of assassination rumors; some of them, too, had already narrowly missed death.
Mbe continued, “There is a connection.” He dialed up a document marked Exalted on his podium looksee. “I must reveal some classified information to you. Unknown to the public and even most government officials, interior and exterior, Mercury City’s ally Lacryma and our rival Raskia some days ago were involved in an armed misunderstanding. Tonight’s emergency session of the Starmeer, where I represent Lacryma pro tem, had already been called when the incident occurred. In fact, we called the session, you will recall, because we were getting sick and tired of seeing them gobble up land. They’re a bloody empire, and they get bigger every day, chewing up our, ah, trading domain.” He looked at his folder. “Unfortunately, they are going to have a strong case against us tonight.”
“Just how damn big or small was this ‘misunderstanding’?” Fardin demanded.
“It was a major space battle. We cannot deny it.” Mbe had been expecting the Rooster to launch one of his typical attacks, sniping, looking for any opening of any kind to please his lynch mob base and increase his power.
Fardin slammed his hand on the table as heads met in a violent babble of voices. Lifting his arms, Mbe with difficulty restored silence.
“Just what exactly happened?” Fardin demanded.
Mbe kept his iron self-control: “Let me read this letter to you. It was written by our ambassador to the Mudsheaves, at Mudsheaves I, and will be submitted to the Starmeer tonight. I read: Three days ago, a space battle took place between Ankhman and Lacryman fleet units in Ankhfire territory. The incident happened while the Lacryman fleet was on maneuvers in Mudsheaves territory, though no Mudsheaves ships were involved. The—”
Fardin interrupted: “Its this the same fleet that was on maneuvers there a month ago?”
Mbe nodded. “They have been in the Mudsheaves a month and a half.”
“Then why was the Mudsheaves fleet not involved?”
Mbe pressed his palms together. “The Mudsheaves fleet was ordered back by its commanders as our fleet entered Ankhfire. Now before you interrupt again, let me hasten to explain why our fleet entered Ankhfire.”
Fardin sat back, with his arms folded high over his chest, and his face raised superciliously.
Mbe tapped his foot on the floor, reading: “The engines aboard the flagship of the Lacryman fleet, the Exalted, blew up while she was attempting to convert to light-one drive in an evasion tactic, strictly training purposes. The ship, one of our biggest, drifted helplessly into space claimed by Ankhfire. Fifteen battleships and carriers, making up the rest of the fleet, followed their flagship for protection. This is a mandatory maneuver in such cases, known as ‘three-sixty-cubed defense.’ The other ships, of course…”
“Monstrous!” bellowed Fardin. “Pray tell these people what policy we agreed on three months ago after we ‘defended ourselves’ from Ankhfire at Leborne!”
Mbe held out his hands almost beseechingly, looking for support from Fardin’s enemies. “The ship in that incident was crippled by a space mine and drifted against the force field of their space fortress at Leborne. After the stink they raised, we agreed that a ship under those circumstances must be abandoned and then self-destruct.”
Fardin commented acidly: “We agreed with our enemy that we would abandon our ships and blow them up rather than face conflict. That is a government policy I opposed then and oppose now. So why was our ship not abandoned and blown up?”
Cyrus said: “You’ll have to ask the commanding officer of the Exalted, and he is dead.”
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Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
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