Trevor gazed at a framed wide shot of Amity under construction. The former Ark Carriers weren’t yet linked by the Crossway. He pointed his cigar toward it.
“We made do without warships for fifteen years. The UNF kept a small cruiser on patrol to cite WTZ violators. Both spaceports managed an emergency response team in case of an accident. No one threatened Amity. If people didn’t like government policy, they flew here and protested. End of story.
“Then they killed the President. Black Star spread. Talk of war. Who wants to travel to a space station surrounded by two hundred thousand singularity bombs? If you were back home on Zwahili Kingdom, would this place be a top destination?”
Shireena set down the glass of expensive bourbon and slid over. She grabbed Trevor’s free hand.
“When you put it that way, probably not.”
Why didn’t I see it coming?
“Funny thing about history. Every time there’s a transformative event – usually wars or disasters – people ask, ‘How could this happen?’ They assign blame and insist they won’t allow it to happen again. They never work hard to find the real cause. Know why?”
“It’s the easiest way to move on.”
Trevor sighed.
“Yep. Also lazy. Every giant moment in history has an origin point, usually buried deep in the past. My caste formed three thousand years ago when Johannes Ericsson had a revelation. He proclaimed humans to be the highest lifeform. He disavowed advanced aliens, divinities, gods. He created a new form of government and set a genetic test to determine whether one qualified to be a Chancellor. He led the first crusade against the so-called ‘heretics.’ The man built an empire that lasted until thirty-six years ago.”
Trevor stifled a laugh. “You want to hear the crazy bit? He was the runt of the litter. Doctors thought he wouldn’t live three years. He died on his hundred and sixty-eighth birthday. Most of his generation died before they were sixty. If the doctors had been right, or if he’d simply lived a normal life span, the Chancellory wouldn’t have been born. Imagine. Three thousand years of single-caste rule on the shoulders of a runt.”
Few people cared about Earth’s transition from so-called ‘pre-history,’ defined by Ericsson’s rise. He doubted Shireena ever read the stories.
“Enlightening, Trev, but what does it have to do with us?”
“Nothing. It’s a great tale. One man’s vision shaped humanity, for good or ill. Mostly ill, historians would say. The Chancellors used to force the colonies to teach Ericsson’s story.”
“They stopped during the interregnum. Tell me where you’re going with this.”
Trevor wanted Shireena to see the bigger picture before he took her down the black hole.
“Twenty-three years ago. The first Interstellar Congress. They were about to ratify the Constitution. At the last hour, a group of anti-Chancellor hardliners introduced the Planetary Rights of Sovereignty. They didn’t have the votes, so they built a coalition. Two months later, they added it to the final document. They celebrated without understanding the implication.
“If they’d left well enough alone, the UNF would have obliterated Black Star before it spread. The insurgents on Riyadh would have been put down. The President wouldn’t have been assassinated. We wouldn’t need warships or a field of singularity bombs. Origin points, Shireena. Bad decisions. People lacking the stomach to fight back. And we pay decades later. What if? What if?”
I can’t put it off anymore. My shame on full display.
“They’ve been playing me for months,” he confessed.
“Who?”
“The President. The Admiralty. SI. Nexus. I could go on, but that’s a healthy starter list.”
Shireena ran her hand up his arm and leaned in.
“You’re going to tell me there’s a conspiracy against you?”
He expelled tiny puffs of smoke.
“No. I’m going to reach a logical conclusion. A deputy who almost lost his job ten months ago because he couldn’t control his temper should not be sitting in the Governor’s office.”
C’mon, jackass. Push on. You can do this!
“It never made sense, Shireena. When Haas proposed it, and Devonshire doubled down, I was flattered. My ego said, ‘Sure. This station is your family legacy. You can do a better job than the asshole in charge.’ I knew the President had her own agenda, and she wanted a political boost. Promote the local boy turned hero. It was a feel-good story, especially after the fiasco with MR-44.
“But what if it wasn’t about that at all? Nagano and Haas played their hands today. Know why you didn’t hear any yelling in the conference room after we were alone?”
She shook her head.
“They put me in my place. Shut my ass down. Told me in so many words to be a good boy and play nice. Oh, and there was this other bit about a ‘dangerous road’ and a ‘challenging future.’ Neither is apparently my concern, because the UNF and the President will handle it. I should keep quiet and run the station. I haven’t felt like such a fool since I discovered Effie was sleeping with another man.”
Trevor never told Shireena much about his marriage. He didn’t want his rage to seep out.
“Tell me the rest, love. I’ll stand with you.”
He wouldn’t have been sure three months ago. But now ...
“It’s all connected,” Trevor said. He pointed to the swirling cloud of smoke. “When I reorganize the clues, they form a perfect pattern.”
“Explain.”
Trevor knew he might lose her today. If she thought he dove too deep into the paranoia well ...
Out with it!
“What if my promotion was in the works long before anyone broached the idea? That it was part of a larger scheme. Let’s say it went something like this.
“The President and the Admiralty are frustrated because they can’t deal directly with Black Star. Congress is obsessed with sovereign rights. It won’t change the Constitution. Devonshire’s field agents say without quick action, they’ll lose the sector.
