“It’s unprecedented. Frankly, I don’t know what to make of it.”
She removed a tablet from her suit pocket and scrolled. Brauman elevated a complex holo with floor maps and color codes.
“You’ll notice two colors on this Harmony occupancy report. Green for IC reps and teal for their primary staffs. By primary, I’m referring to their Chiefs of Staff and top advisors. The low-level aides and internists, which often flip several times during a rotation, are scattered in Haven.”
Trevor knew this bit and waited for something odd to appear. Brauman continued, adding a second graphic with Haven listings by bloc and level.
“These snapshots are three months old. Also routine. Now I’ll show what they look like today.”
The new holos remained primarily green or teal, but chunks of white space infiltrated the whole, like missing pieces of a jigsaw.
“What does white mean?”
“Vacant and available for lease.”
“Huh. So, these reps are giving up their living quarters. Are they all planning to retire?”
“Not to my knowledge, and it wouldn’t matter. As you can see, the attrition continues in Haven.”
“When did you become aware of this trend?”
Brauman shaded her eyes. This bit did not sit well with her.
“I trust my staff. We have a fine system in place. Honed over many years. But some of my people are on their first rotation. They aren’t as well versed in these lease protocols. At first, I thought the codes were entered incorrectly. They weren’t.”
Trevor recognized what Brauman dared not admit: She wasn’t paying attention while it happened.
“Sum up for me, Grete. How many flats? How recently were the leases dropped? Who dropped them?”
“Thirty-two reps. Three hundred fifty-two flats in total. All in the past six days. And here’s the kicker: It’s not random. These people represent eight planets.”
Nothing about that sounded good. Trevor asked the question for which he dreaded the answer.
“Which eight?”
She threw open a summary page with the list, which she read:
“Yaniff, Kartuffe, Catalan, Forster's Alliance, Qasi Ransome, Kyriokos, Brahma, and Xavier's Garden.”
Trevor felt a deep pit in his stomach and glanced over his shoulder to find Andreas with a limp jaw.
“You see the pattern?” Trevor asked his Chief.
“I do, sir. It’s remarkable.”
“What?” Brauman asked. “What is their commonality?”
Andreas answered faster.
“You must not follow Collectorate politics, Director.”
She shook her head.
“I’m much too busy.”
Trevor finished the thought.
“Seven of those planets led the charge for MR-44. They wanted to snuff out the wars between Black Star and its competitors. The collateral damage was growing. Kartuffe wasn’t part of the group, but a Black Star work village there was wiped out the same day as the vote. Eighteen hundred killed. Black Star retaliated. A hundred thousand have since been killed on Kartuffe.”
Brauman fell silent, no doubt absorbing the shock. Trevor didn’t want to jump to conclusions. Yet.
“Grete, have you spoken to the President about this?”
“No. She’s off station. I’ve been told she won’t return for days. I only finished my assessment last night.”
“Andreas, you know how the IC works. Could there be a logical reason that doesn’t involve the worst-case scenario?”
Andreas tapped his left temple whenever he studied on a problem. He also clicked his tongue – a habit which annoyed Trevor.
“In theory, sir, this maneuver could be related to IC voting rules. No legislation can be debated or brought to a vote unless every member world has at least three representatives on the floor.”
“No one’s here now, but the President can call them back for emergency session. Yes?”
He gasped. “She has full discretion, true, but the voting rules apply. And also this! I’d almost forgotten. It’s never had to be invoked. Congress can conduct no official business unless every member world has at least one representative on Amity. If a group of four has to be away at a critical time, such as during a state funeral back home, they’ll appoint a proxy to occupy an office.”
Trevor heard of this procedure.
“The designated heartbeat.”
