10-03-2018, 09:12 PM
Sunday 16th September 2018
Yousef Chaher scrolled through the international job listings once more. After one of the tabloids had put a video of one of his drunken rants about his father from just before the war online, something he didn’t even remember doing, there was no corner he could turn without a million people staring at him. He wanted out of Lauchenoiria, at this point by any means necessary.
He was about to give up and log out for the night, when an email popped up in the corner. Expecting either more spam or more requests from journalists (just how were they getting his contact details?), he reached for the ‘delete’ key.
He paused, and read over the email a second time, more thoroughly. Then he read it a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth. After that, he grabbed a jacket and ran out the house into the night. He pulled his hood right up over his head as he headed out. He pulled out his phone and checked the address again.
When he arrived at the location, it had begun to rain, and he shivered as he pulled down his hood and entered. His footsteps echoed on the ground of the church hall, as he crept ever forwards. It seemed to be empty, and he had started to feel panicky about this whole thing.
“Heard you were looking for a job abroad,” said a voice from behind him. Yousef leapt in the air as he turned to see the figure behind him. The figure was of Korean descent but spoke with a strong Annatown accent.
“H… how did you…?” Yousef began to ask, nervously.
“Same way I know who killed your father,” the other man said.
“Who!?” Yousef asked, his desire for information overcoming his fear.
“Mmm, that’s not information I’m willing to share with just anyone. Employees only.”
“Are you offering me a job? Doing what?”
“Whatever needs doing.”
“That sounds ominous.”
The figure laughed, the sound echoing through the hall so loud Yousef’s hairs all stood on end in fear of… well, something.
“How desperate are you?” the figure asked, in a manner that showed he already knew the answer. Yousef took a deep breath.
“When do I start?” he asked.
“Immediately,” smiled Ji-Hun Chung.
*
Helena Ortega sat in the Kerlian sun feeling blessed. It was the end, she knew, but also the beginning.
“Are you quite certain?” a Kerlian asked her. “There is no going back after this, you understand.”
“I completely understand,” Helena said, meaning every word. The Kerlian smiled, a cross between thrilled and bemused, shaking her head slightly. She walked over to where another group of Kerlians were fighting with a large amount of paperwork.
Helena swung her legs back and forth, sitting on top of the small wall, watching the distant buses fill up and leave.
“I need a name,” the Kerlian was back. Helena thought for a moment.
“Do I have to decide right now?”
“Bus is leaving in ten. If Helena Ortega died in Kerlile, her death certificate would be on that bus. We’ve got the surname, need a first name.”
Helena considered some more.
“Renee. It means ‘reborn’.”
“Renee Moreno, born 13th January 2003…” the woman scribbled some more things down then handed the paper to a younger woman. “Get that to the document office, Sana,” ordered the older woman, the younger nodding and running off.
“Welcome to Kerlile, Renee,” the woman said.
Helena, or she who had once been Helena, smiled a genuine smile. This was what was meant to be.
As the newly renamed Renee Moreno walked with the Kerlian woman back towards town, a death certificate with the name of Helena Ortega was added to a pile of paperwork on a bus carrying Lauchenoirian prisoners of war back to the border.
*
Leonie Bennett didn’t believe the Kerlians who told her Helena Ortega was dead, and she told them so.
“Bull,” she had shrugged, staring a Kerlian in the face.
The Kerlian had responded by pinning her against the wall by the neck, squeezing so tight Leonie had struggled for breath.
“You think Hale can save you, little girl?” the Kerlian had hissed. “You know nothing.”
Then she’d let Leonie go, managing to scratch her with her nail hard enough to draw blood, by accident or design, Leonie thought the latter. She had been herded onto a bus with all the rest of them, minus Helena and Myriam. Nobody had told anyone what was happening, which had led to some horrible speculation.
“Whatever Sonja Alvarez, or Jennifer Hale, or whoever she is, said two weeks ago to stop them from starving and torturing us all, I bet they killed her or something and so now we’re all being sent somewhere way worse than where we just came,” Jessica speculated.
“Do you mind?” hissed Rosa. “Some of us don’t want to hear this stuff.”
“Well if you don’t want to hear it, then maybe I should yell it louder, traitor!” Jessica retorted, then cleared her throat.
“Just stop it!” Leonie interrupted. The other two fell silent. After Jennifer Hale appeared to halt the phase two programme, people had begun to accept that she had been telling the truth when she said she hadn’t broken.
Jessica knew the face of Sonja Alvarez, and knew Leonie had been close to her, so upon the final proof that Sonja was indeed Councillor Jennifer Hale of Kerlile, Jessica had formed a theory that Hale retained a soft spot for Leonie. Leonie didn’t know if the theory was true or not, but she was relieved to be believed.
She had slept for most of the journey, and when she woke, it was to exclamations of joy and relief. Leonie, who had become unaccustomed to hearing anything positive over the last month, was rather confused.
“What’s going on?” she asked Rosa, who seemed to be weeping with tears of joy, a smile on her face.
“The war’s over! We’re being sent home!”
Leonie sat bolt upright and glanced out of the window. Sure enough, they were stopped in front of a gate in the Kerlians’ border fence. Leonie gasped in disbelieving joy. A part of her was quite certain this was a trap, but at the same time she allowed all the hope to wash over her.
Many hours later, hours that passed in a blur of exhaustion and relief and the sheer wonder of finally feeling safe, Leonie fell into the arms of her parents, who were crying and clutched her so, so tight. She couldn’t even get the words out to speak with them, and in the end, they had to deposit her in her bed, the one she hadn’t slept in since the beginning of June.
*
Myriam Underwood maintained eye contact with Renee Moreno, smiling.
“I shouldn’t have listened to her, I’m sorry. I know now, Leonie is manipulative and evil. I swear, I will never betray Kerlile.”
“I believe her,” Renee said, looking up to the Kerlian who watched the pair. The Kerlian sighed.
“Bet your life?” the Kerlian asked. Renee hesitated.
“Myriam, I… I want to believe you,” she said, looking down.
“I understand if you cannot place that trust in me, what I did is hard to forgive. I will accept the consequences of my actions,” Myriam smiled calmly.
“Yes,” Renee said suddenly. “Yes, I am sure she speaks the truth.”
“On your own head be it,” the Kerlian shook her head, tilting it in a symbol to the other who stood by the door. The guard unlocked it, and the Kerlian gestured for Myriam and Renee to follow.
“I can’t wait to see the rest of Kerlile! After so long in a misogynist country, I am so happy to finally be somewhere women are truly treated the way we deserve!” chattered Renee happily.
“You’ll love it, I assure you. This country is a women’s paradise, truly. I know Leonie and her ilk used to say that sarcastically but only because they didn’t understand,” Myriam assured her.
The conversation continued as the pair were driven back to the neighbourhood Myriam had lived in before she’d been employed in the position of brainwasher for the Lauchenoirian PoWs deemed malleable. Myriam continued to extol the virtues of Kerlian life to the girl who had once been Helena Ortega.
Inside, though, Myriam’s doubts had become even greater. She would not, however, make the same mistake twice. No, until she had a plan, she would not utter another doubt aloud. She hadn’t a clue what she was doing, but she would get one, someday.
She felt a smidge of guilt, knowing that the Kerlians would probably take it out on Helena, or Renee as she’d chosen to be called. Then again, Helena Ortega had made her choice. And if the Kerlians caught Myriam doing anything, well, Myriam had the feeling she’d be past caring about what they did to someone else at that point.
So, life continued for Myriam Underwood, outwardly appearing as if the war had never happened. Inside, though, something stirred and grew. And Kerlile would one day regret trusting Myriam, of that she was certain.
*
Jennifer Hale sat by a river, watching the water run and trying to forget the world existed. She snapped out of her trance only when she heard footsteps approaching. Almost instantaneously, she was on her feet, weapon pointed at the intruder.
“You used to come here as a young child. Snuck away from your security, over and over. They always knew where you were, of course, or they would never have allowed it,” smiled Rebecca Arnott, ignoring the gun. Hale sighed and put it back in its holster.
“Are you following me for a reason, or just here to spout childhood anecdotes?” she said, sitting back down. Arnott awkwardly sat next to her, unaccustomed to ever sitting on the ground.
“A reason, naturally,” Arnott began, “and as you can see, I didn’t bring any security either. This conversation cannot be overheard.”
“Only reason I didn’t let Patel shoot you was to piss her off. Doesn’t mean I like you.”
“I’m not interested in your personal opinion of me, Jen, I merely…”
“I’m not interested in anything you have to say, Becky…”
Arnott sighed and let out a small chuckle.
“You don’t want me to call you Jen? Fine, Councillor Hale, you might not like me but I have a feeling you will like what I’m about to say.”
“I’ll give you five minutes,” Jennifer shrugged, skimming stones across the water.
“The terms of the Haven Accords were not very beneficial to Kerlile.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“That’s a reference to some outsider culture, isn’t it? Anyway, the Accords do not benefit Kerlile, but they could be of benefit to the two of us.”
“How so?” Jennifer said, her tone sceptical.
“Neither of us likes Anita Patel, and now you can’t blackmail the Council any more, the only thing protecting your friends is the threat of Sanctarian sanctions. But, if we play our cards right, Anita Patel could no longer be a threat.”
“I don’t do political assassinations, Arnott, and even if I did, Patel is so paranoid I wouldn’t be surprised if the one we’ve been dealing with is an actor hired to play her.”
“I’m not talking about assassinations, Jennifer. Right now, none of our enemies in the war can tie a single little war crime down to Councillor Patel, she’s made sure of it. But what if some new information came to light down in Lauchenoiria?”
Jennifer Hale stopped skimming stones and turned so she could make eye contact with Arnott.
“You’re talking about leaking Kerlian documents to Lauchenoiria.”
“I am.”
Hale let out a low whistle.
“I’m impressed. Both that you’d take such a risk to speak those words aloud, and that you’d ever give the ‘misogynists’ an advantage over Kerlile.”
“Anita Patel will kill me, the way she’s killed so many of my family. You want honesty, Jennifer? I do this out of my own self-interest. But you, you want the same things. Sure, you want them out of ‘morality’ and doing the ‘right thing’, but at the end of the day, if we work together, we can both get what we want.”
“Joanne Robinson had allies too. And then she died, and her allies fell away so fast nobody bothered to record who they were. Your mother or mine could have been on the list, but they never said, not to either of us.”
“Joanne Robinson died because she moved too fast, and too foolishly.”
“Joanne Robinson died doing exactly what you tried to do at the end of last month. Which is why you fear for your life now. So, tell me Rebecca, why should I help you?”
“Carmen Robinson has vanished, after some very compelling evidence was produced that she betrayed Kerlile.”
“See, you’re just stating facts I already know now,” Hale shrugged and turned away.
“I know where Robinson is. You support democracy and freedom,” Arnott said mockingly, “and I’m willing to make concessions.”
“You’re willing to suddenly support democracy?” Hale laughed.
“I wouldn’t go quite that far, but if we win, I guarantee you, nobody will go to prison for looking at the wrong person the wrong way.”
“That’s… that’s the best you could come up with? Okay, Councillor Arnott, you want my support for some coup? I’ll give you my terms. First, the release of all political prisoners in this country. The immediate closure of all labour camps and ‘alternative education’ facilities. And human rights for men.”
This time, it was Rebecca Arnott’s turn to laugh.
“I’m not planning a coup. But if Anita Patel ends up in some Sanctarian prison, and Joanna Greenwood is deposed, then perhaps over time we can edge ever closer to a state where your terms could be possible.”
“That’s what you want my support with? Gradual change?”
“I want your support in choosing a new president, one who will be more amenable to such an eventuality.”
“Hart will be the next president, everyone knows it.”
“Not if Patel is in jail.”
“You know something, don’t you?” Hale said, narrowing her eyes.
“Six votes are required to become president. Hart had the support of Greenwood, Patel, Pierre, Viallamando, Chiu, Georgiou and herself.”
“That’s seven, even without Patel, she wins.”
“If she retains the support of the rest.”
“You want the presidency? There’s you, Robinson presumably, myself if I choose to participate in this absurdity. If Patel is out of the picture, it’s still six-three. Unless you’re going to fabricate evidence, nobody else is going to be convicted, Patel was the only Councillor who had anything to do with the war effort. Hell, if two Councillors end up in a Sanctarian prison, the second is most likely to be me.”
“That is not going to happen.”
“You’re not in control of that. Does it scare you? Not being in control? I’m sure it frightens the life out of Patel, after a lifetime of controlling everything.”
“If anyone should be scared of that prospect, it should be you.”
“There are worse things than imprisonment. Most of them in this country. Anyway, you still haven’t told me how you expect to swing the vote.”
“Greenwood, Patel, Pierre, Hart. The worst of us all. Your sister, too, when she was alive. But Chiu and Georgiou are opportunists. If they thought it would benefit them, they’d swing for us.”
“Still leaves you short of a vote. What about Viallamando?”
“Trickier, to be sure. Which is why I need you.”
“What can I do?”
Arnott whispered something in her ear, to which Hale only scoffed.
“You’re too much the optimist, Arnott.”
Hale then stood up and began to walk away. She turned around briefly when Arnott had just about given up.
“You won’t win this one, Rebecca. But that doesn’t mean you should give up. Don’t tell me where Robinson is. Keep her hidden. And if you’re serious about this, come and find me when you can win.”
Jennifer Hale walked away, not letting the tiny sliver of hope Arnott’s words had created take root inside her. No, this wasn’t over for her. Jennifer Hale knew the future held nothing good for her, she didn’t know how but she knew. But whatever happened, she would accept it because she was so, so done with fighting.
Yousef Chaher scrolled through the international job listings once more. After one of the tabloids had put a video of one of his drunken rants about his father from just before the war online, something he didn’t even remember doing, there was no corner he could turn without a million people staring at him. He wanted out of Lauchenoiria, at this point by any means necessary.
He was about to give up and log out for the night, when an email popped up in the corner. Expecting either more spam or more requests from journalists (just how were they getting his contact details?), he reached for the ‘delete’ key.
He paused, and read over the email a second time, more thoroughly. Then he read it a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth. After that, he grabbed a jacket and ran out the house into the night. He pulled his hood right up over his head as he headed out. He pulled out his phone and checked the address again.
When he arrived at the location, it had begun to rain, and he shivered as he pulled down his hood and entered. His footsteps echoed on the ground of the church hall, as he crept ever forwards. It seemed to be empty, and he had started to feel panicky about this whole thing.
“Heard you were looking for a job abroad,” said a voice from behind him. Yousef leapt in the air as he turned to see the figure behind him. The figure was of Korean descent but spoke with a strong Annatown accent.
“H… how did you…?” Yousef began to ask, nervously.
“Same way I know who killed your father,” the other man said.
“Who!?” Yousef asked, his desire for information overcoming his fear.
“Mmm, that’s not information I’m willing to share with just anyone. Employees only.”
“Are you offering me a job? Doing what?”
“Whatever needs doing.”
“That sounds ominous.”
The figure laughed, the sound echoing through the hall so loud Yousef’s hairs all stood on end in fear of… well, something.
“How desperate are you?” the figure asked, in a manner that showed he already knew the answer. Yousef took a deep breath.
“When do I start?” he asked.
“Immediately,” smiled Ji-Hun Chung.
*
Helena Ortega sat in the Kerlian sun feeling blessed. It was the end, she knew, but also the beginning.
“Are you quite certain?” a Kerlian asked her. “There is no going back after this, you understand.”
“I completely understand,” Helena said, meaning every word. The Kerlian smiled, a cross between thrilled and bemused, shaking her head slightly. She walked over to where another group of Kerlians were fighting with a large amount of paperwork.
Helena swung her legs back and forth, sitting on top of the small wall, watching the distant buses fill up and leave.
“I need a name,” the Kerlian was back. Helena thought for a moment.
“Do I have to decide right now?”
“Bus is leaving in ten. If Helena Ortega died in Kerlile, her death certificate would be on that bus. We’ve got the surname, need a first name.”
Helena considered some more.
“Renee. It means ‘reborn’.”
“Renee Moreno, born 13th January 2003…” the woman scribbled some more things down then handed the paper to a younger woman. “Get that to the document office, Sana,” ordered the older woman, the younger nodding and running off.
“Welcome to Kerlile, Renee,” the woman said.
Helena, or she who had once been Helena, smiled a genuine smile. This was what was meant to be.
As the newly renamed Renee Moreno walked with the Kerlian woman back towards town, a death certificate with the name of Helena Ortega was added to a pile of paperwork on a bus carrying Lauchenoirian prisoners of war back to the border.
*
Leonie Bennett didn’t believe the Kerlians who told her Helena Ortega was dead, and she told them so.
“Bull,” she had shrugged, staring a Kerlian in the face.
The Kerlian had responded by pinning her against the wall by the neck, squeezing so tight Leonie had struggled for breath.
“You think Hale can save you, little girl?” the Kerlian had hissed. “You know nothing.”
Then she’d let Leonie go, managing to scratch her with her nail hard enough to draw blood, by accident or design, Leonie thought the latter. She had been herded onto a bus with all the rest of them, minus Helena and Myriam. Nobody had told anyone what was happening, which had led to some horrible speculation.
“Whatever Sonja Alvarez, or Jennifer Hale, or whoever she is, said two weeks ago to stop them from starving and torturing us all, I bet they killed her or something and so now we’re all being sent somewhere way worse than where we just came,” Jessica speculated.
“Do you mind?” hissed Rosa. “Some of us don’t want to hear this stuff.”
“Well if you don’t want to hear it, then maybe I should yell it louder, traitor!” Jessica retorted, then cleared her throat.
“Just stop it!” Leonie interrupted. The other two fell silent. After Jennifer Hale appeared to halt the phase two programme, people had begun to accept that she had been telling the truth when she said she hadn’t broken.
Jessica knew the face of Sonja Alvarez, and knew Leonie had been close to her, so upon the final proof that Sonja was indeed Councillor Jennifer Hale of Kerlile, Jessica had formed a theory that Hale retained a soft spot for Leonie. Leonie didn’t know if the theory was true or not, but she was relieved to be believed.
She had slept for most of the journey, and when she woke, it was to exclamations of joy and relief. Leonie, who had become unaccustomed to hearing anything positive over the last month, was rather confused.
“What’s going on?” she asked Rosa, who seemed to be weeping with tears of joy, a smile on her face.
“The war’s over! We’re being sent home!”
Leonie sat bolt upright and glanced out of the window. Sure enough, they were stopped in front of a gate in the Kerlians’ border fence. Leonie gasped in disbelieving joy. A part of her was quite certain this was a trap, but at the same time she allowed all the hope to wash over her.
Many hours later, hours that passed in a blur of exhaustion and relief and the sheer wonder of finally feeling safe, Leonie fell into the arms of her parents, who were crying and clutched her so, so tight. She couldn’t even get the words out to speak with them, and in the end, they had to deposit her in her bed, the one she hadn’t slept in since the beginning of June.
*
Myriam Underwood maintained eye contact with Renee Moreno, smiling.
“I shouldn’t have listened to her, I’m sorry. I know now, Leonie is manipulative and evil. I swear, I will never betray Kerlile.”
“I believe her,” Renee said, looking up to the Kerlian who watched the pair. The Kerlian sighed.
“Bet your life?” the Kerlian asked. Renee hesitated.
“Myriam, I… I want to believe you,” she said, looking down.
“I understand if you cannot place that trust in me, what I did is hard to forgive. I will accept the consequences of my actions,” Myriam smiled calmly.
“Yes,” Renee said suddenly. “Yes, I am sure she speaks the truth.”
“On your own head be it,” the Kerlian shook her head, tilting it in a symbol to the other who stood by the door. The guard unlocked it, and the Kerlian gestured for Myriam and Renee to follow.
“I can’t wait to see the rest of Kerlile! After so long in a misogynist country, I am so happy to finally be somewhere women are truly treated the way we deserve!” chattered Renee happily.
“You’ll love it, I assure you. This country is a women’s paradise, truly. I know Leonie and her ilk used to say that sarcastically but only because they didn’t understand,” Myriam assured her.
The conversation continued as the pair were driven back to the neighbourhood Myriam had lived in before she’d been employed in the position of brainwasher for the Lauchenoirian PoWs deemed malleable. Myriam continued to extol the virtues of Kerlian life to the girl who had once been Helena Ortega.
Inside, though, Myriam’s doubts had become even greater. She would not, however, make the same mistake twice. No, until she had a plan, she would not utter another doubt aloud. She hadn’t a clue what she was doing, but she would get one, someday.
She felt a smidge of guilt, knowing that the Kerlians would probably take it out on Helena, or Renee as she’d chosen to be called. Then again, Helena Ortega had made her choice. And if the Kerlians caught Myriam doing anything, well, Myriam had the feeling she’d be past caring about what they did to someone else at that point.
So, life continued for Myriam Underwood, outwardly appearing as if the war had never happened. Inside, though, something stirred and grew. And Kerlile would one day regret trusting Myriam, of that she was certain.
*
Jennifer Hale sat by a river, watching the water run and trying to forget the world existed. She snapped out of her trance only when she heard footsteps approaching. Almost instantaneously, she was on her feet, weapon pointed at the intruder.
“You used to come here as a young child. Snuck away from your security, over and over. They always knew where you were, of course, or they would never have allowed it,” smiled Rebecca Arnott, ignoring the gun. Hale sighed and put it back in its holster.
“Are you following me for a reason, or just here to spout childhood anecdotes?” she said, sitting back down. Arnott awkwardly sat next to her, unaccustomed to ever sitting on the ground.
“A reason, naturally,” Arnott began, “and as you can see, I didn’t bring any security either. This conversation cannot be overheard.”
“Only reason I didn’t let Patel shoot you was to piss her off. Doesn’t mean I like you.”
“I’m not interested in your personal opinion of me, Jen, I merely…”
“I’m not interested in anything you have to say, Becky…”
Arnott sighed and let out a small chuckle.
“You don’t want me to call you Jen? Fine, Councillor Hale, you might not like me but I have a feeling you will like what I’m about to say.”
“I’ll give you five minutes,” Jennifer shrugged, skimming stones across the water.
“The terms of the Haven Accords were not very beneficial to Kerlile.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“That’s a reference to some outsider culture, isn’t it? Anyway, the Accords do not benefit Kerlile, but they could be of benefit to the two of us.”
“How so?” Jennifer said, her tone sceptical.
“Neither of us likes Anita Patel, and now you can’t blackmail the Council any more, the only thing protecting your friends is the threat of Sanctarian sanctions. But, if we play our cards right, Anita Patel could no longer be a threat.”
“I don’t do political assassinations, Arnott, and even if I did, Patel is so paranoid I wouldn’t be surprised if the one we’ve been dealing with is an actor hired to play her.”
“I’m not talking about assassinations, Jennifer. Right now, none of our enemies in the war can tie a single little war crime down to Councillor Patel, she’s made sure of it. But what if some new information came to light down in Lauchenoiria?”
Jennifer Hale stopped skimming stones and turned so she could make eye contact with Arnott.
“You’re talking about leaking Kerlian documents to Lauchenoiria.”
“I am.”
Hale let out a low whistle.
“I’m impressed. Both that you’d take such a risk to speak those words aloud, and that you’d ever give the ‘misogynists’ an advantage over Kerlile.”
“Anita Patel will kill me, the way she’s killed so many of my family. You want honesty, Jennifer? I do this out of my own self-interest. But you, you want the same things. Sure, you want them out of ‘morality’ and doing the ‘right thing’, but at the end of the day, if we work together, we can both get what we want.”
“Joanne Robinson had allies too. And then she died, and her allies fell away so fast nobody bothered to record who they were. Your mother or mine could have been on the list, but they never said, not to either of us.”
“Joanne Robinson died because she moved too fast, and too foolishly.”
“Joanne Robinson died doing exactly what you tried to do at the end of last month. Which is why you fear for your life now. So, tell me Rebecca, why should I help you?”
“Carmen Robinson has vanished, after some very compelling evidence was produced that she betrayed Kerlile.”
“See, you’re just stating facts I already know now,” Hale shrugged and turned away.
“I know where Robinson is. You support democracy and freedom,” Arnott said mockingly, “and I’m willing to make concessions.”
“You’re willing to suddenly support democracy?” Hale laughed.
“I wouldn’t go quite that far, but if we win, I guarantee you, nobody will go to prison for looking at the wrong person the wrong way.”
“That’s… that’s the best you could come up with? Okay, Councillor Arnott, you want my support for some coup? I’ll give you my terms. First, the release of all political prisoners in this country. The immediate closure of all labour camps and ‘alternative education’ facilities. And human rights for men.”
This time, it was Rebecca Arnott’s turn to laugh.
“I’m not planning a coup. But if Anita Patel ends up in some Sanctarian prison, and Joanna Greenwood is deposed, then perhaps over time we can edge ever closer to a state where your terms could be possible.”
“That’s what you want my support with? Gradual change?”
“I want your support in choosing a new president, one who will be more amenable to such an eventuality.”
“Hart will be the next president, everyone knows it.”
“Not if Patel is in jail.”
“You know something, don’t you?” Hale said, narrowing her eyes.
“Six votes are required to become president. Hart had the support of Greenwood, Patel, Pierre, Viallamando, Chiu, Georgiou and herself.”
“That’s seven, even without Patel, she wins.”
“If she retains the support of the rest.”
“You want the presidency? There’s you, Robinson presumably, myself if I choose to participate in this absurdity. If Patel is out of the picture, it’s still six-three. Unless you’re going to fabricate evidence, nobody else is going to be convicted, Patel was the only Councillor who had anything to do with the war effort. Hell, if two Councillors end up in a Sanctarian prison, the second is most likely to be me.”
“That is not going to happen.”
“You’re not in control of that. Does it scare you? Not being in control? I’m sure it frightens the life out of Patel, after a lifetime of controlling everything.”
“If anyone should be scared of that prospect, it should be you.”
“There are worse things than imprisonment. Most of them in this country. Anyway, you still haven’t told me how you expect to swing the vote.”
“Greenwood, Patel, Pierre, Hart. The worst of us all. Your sister, too, when she was alive. But Chiu and Georgiou are opportunists. If they thought it would benefit them, they’d swing for us.”
“Still leaves you short of a vote. What about Viallamando?”
“Trickier, to be sure. Which is why I need you.”
“What can I do?”
Arnott whispered something in her ear, to which Hale only scoffed.
“You’re too much the optimist, Arnott.”
Hale then stood up and began to walk away. She turned around briefly when Arnott had just about given up.
“You won’t win this one, Rebecca. But that doesn’t mean you should give up. Don’t tell me where Robinson is. Keep her hidden. And if you’re serious about this, come and find me when you can win.”
Jennifer Hale walked away, not letting the tiny sliver of hope Arnott’s words had created take root inside her. No, this wasn’t over for her. Jennifer Hale knew the future held nothing good for her, she didn’t know how but she knew. But whatever happened, she would accept it because she was so, so done with fighting.
LIDUN President 2024 | she/her | Puppets: Kerlile, Glanainn, Yesteria, Zongongia, Zargothrax