Chapter 24
“No, Calos has nothing to fear from the Traitor, Leonev and those who follow him in his treason.” Garret said in a reassuring tone while the journalist sitting in her armchair next to him nodded. She was a petite, dark-haired woman approaching middle age, and one of the top-viewed early-afternoon talk show hosts on Calosian broadcast networks. Margaret Dillamond wasn’t really a journalist by the classic definition, but she had an audience that included nearly one hundred million housewives and eighty million unemployed men and women. She was dressed casually, part of what formed her appeal to a mostly middle or lower-middle class audience and Garret had ‘dressed down’ for this interview by wearing a pair of denim jeans and a white open-neck tunic.
“Why is that?” Margaret asked in a soft, lilting voice as she cocked her head to the side.
“Well, first off, Leonev doesn’t have the military force to attack Calos directly.” Garret answered casually. “It’s six jumps between here and his closest world, and before he could even move out of the system he does control, he’d have to fight his way through a Republic fleet. Second, he’d have to fight through the fleet we have defending the planet, and even if he mustered all his forces for a direct attack, he wouldn’t win and he wouldn’t get close enough to bombard the planet.”
“How will the civil war affect Calos then?” She asked and Garret knew why Lelaine Anova had warned him about her. Margaret’s tone, her posture, everything about her was casual, as if they were sitting at home instead of in a studio with nearly two hundred people watching, yet her questions were good ones and probably struck right to the heart of what the Calosian people were wanting to know.
“Overall, it won’t affect Calos much.” Garret said, mentally thanking Lelaine again. Maybe he should give her a bonus, but her salary was already one of the highest of any staff member. Only Mika had a higher salary. “The military has ordered fifteen new corvettes to be produced by the Calosian Shipyards, which is a good thing because it means more jobs and more money coming to Calos. They’ve also increased the number of ships assigned to defend Calos, another good thing.
“The Calosian Militia has also received increased funding to upgrade their equipment and to conduct training exercises with the military forces stationed here. There will also be an increase in shipping needs, providing more business for the civilian ships currently being constructed in the shipyards once they are finished.”
“Also, there won’t be a call-up of the Calosian Militia as is being rumored. ” Garret continued. “I wish I knew who was spreading lies like that, but in the end it makes no difference because what they’re saying is all lies anyway, and the truth will win out. There are no plans for forced military service and I for one will oppose any measure in the Deliberatorium to allow such a thing.”
“What about rumors that the Congress will install a planetary draft to increase the strength of the Militia?” Margaret asked and Garret smiled. It had been two weeks since his emergency staff meeting, and things were looking a little brighter now. He’d had dinner and birthday cake with Mona’s family the next night, and she’d said quite a few things that had further confirmed his ideas about how to approach the Calosian people directly. She was now working for Lelaine, officially, having come out of retirement to ‘monitor’ the talk shows and news broadcasts. Her daughter was now working as a secretary for the ShipMaster’s Guild, and her son-in-law had found a job opening with the construction crews working on Garret’s new house that was being built.
“The Calosian Congress controls the Calosian Militia, but Republic law forbids any form of conscripted military service.” Garret stated.
“But aren’t clones forced into military service?” She asked, moving into a field that was altogether far too familiar for these interviews. Somehow they always brought up his being a clone. “I mean, weren’t you even forced into military service?”
“Margaret, I’ve never wanted anything else but to serve my twenty years in the military and I’m overjoyed that despite everything I’m still able to serve.” Garret answered as he leaned forward in his armchair and made direct eye contact with her. There was a palpable shift in the audience at that, and he refrained from smiling as he saw how well Lelaine’s advice worked. The body language conveyed the earnestness in his words that the words alone could never have given. “You know, as happy as I was that the Great War had ended, I was still heartbroken that I might not be able to serve the Republic the way I had originally intended. At least I’ve found other ways than just military service to give back to the Republic for all the things it has given me over the years. Every clone in military service that I’ve ever met has felt much the same way. They’re happy to be able to serve the Republic.”
“But isn’t it forced service still?” She pushed on and Garret had to admire her tenacity. Most interviewers so far had drifted off to other subjects at this point. He could see the audience leaning in closer, apparently very interested in his answer.
“I think you’re hitting on one of the fundamental differences between cloned humans and true born humans.” Garret rewarded her tenacity with an answer he’d never given publicly before. He could actually hear the collective breath of the audience as they sucked in air waiting to hear him elaborate. Fortunately for them he wasn’t feeling particularly vengeful this morning and continued his answer before they passed out from lack of oxygen. “Most true born humans are born with a general purpose, to continue the human race, to work in some role within our society. Some, like the children of Great Houses are also born with certain specific purposes in mind, like continuing the functions of their Houses, but they can choose from multiple paths to achieve those goals. Cloned humans, on the other hand, are gestated for specific purposes. Clones have an innate sense of purpose, of destiny, if you will, that is often lacking for other humans. Clones know why they exist; they know the purpose for which they were intended while True Borns often have to search out those purposes. If a clone created for military service really did not want to serve in the military, then we’d have to address that issue. I have never heard of such an instance, though, so my answer to your question is that ultimately its not forced service.”
“You say cloned humans and true born humans as if clones really are human.” Margaret continued with what seemed like an unscripted question from the way she chose each of words carefully. “Most of the churches here on Calos say that clones are not humans, that they are abominations before God. How do you claim that clones are human despite what the churches teach?”
“Clones have two arms, two legs, two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and all the other body parts of human beings.” Garret began his answer carefully, trying to hide the surprise he was feeling that she’d actually asked this question. “Clones are genetically human. The only difference really is that clones are designed and gestated artificially, not through the randomness of genetic reproduction most common in our society. Also, while the laws of the Republic protect the rights of its citizens to hold their own religious or spiritual beliefs, the laws of the Republic also recognize clones as human beings.”
“But are clones really human?” Margaret asked. “I mean, do clones have a soul? Most people think that regular clones don’t have souls at all because they were created in a lab, but some believe you might because you are a replacement of a real person.”
“Do you have a soul?” Garret asked her and she sat back in her chair as if she was offended. “I do not mean to offend, but whether a person has a soul or does not is a matter of personal belief. We can’t tell just by looking at someone if they have a soul, or whether souls even exist. Souls cannot be measured or touched, or seen, they are a matter of spiritual belief. Do I believe clones have souls? Let me just say that I know many clones, and I know many true borns. Many people believe that clones are just copies of the same person, but that is not true. Clones are as individual in their nature as any other human. On the surface they may look similar, but as you get to know them, their differences become easy to detect. That is why the only difference I believe exists between clones and True Borns lie in how they are brought into this universe and the purposes for which they were brought forth. That is just my personal belief though. People should feel free to agree with me or to disagree at the top of their lungs. This is the Republic after all, not the Sol Empire.”
“How interesting.” Margaret said with slightly wide eyes before shaking her head and turning to the camera. “We’ll be back after these few words.”
“Whew.” Garret said as the light on the studio camera went off and he leaned back while several make-up staff came out and dabbed at both of their faces, fixing any damage done by sweat. “You ask some tough questions.”
“You have some interesting answers.” She replied with a smile as a young man dabbed at her nose with a powder puff. “Are you prepared for questions from the audience?”
“Yes.” Garret replied with a warm smile. That was part of the conditions for coming on this show, and another of the reasons why he had chosen it over its competitors. He liked the interaction with people, and his staff had made sure that the audience was chosen fairly.
“Commodore, excuse me please.” His duty staff officer, a young woman named Jennifer came striding onto the stage with a frown. Garret stood and took her off to the side of the stage, while Margaret began to look panicked.
“What’s wrong?” Garret asked her, knowing damn well they wouldn’t bother him if it weren’t extremely important.
“Sir, the destroyer Meichert has received a distress call from inside the buffer zone that has been established with the Empire.” She informed him in a low voice and Garret bit off a curse. “It appears to be a transport ship that was in the zone illegally and they report their engines and life support systems are failing. The Meichert responded and they have officially requested assistance. The destroyer is standing by for your approval.”
“Order our HQ here to send a message to the Imperial commander on their side of the border, informing them we have received a distress call and are responding.” Garret ordered. “The peace treaty does cover rescue missions like this, but make sure the relevant sections are forwarded to the Meichert and that her captain knows damn well that any deviation from that treaty will result in her being court-martialed. Got it?”
“Yes, Commodore.” The young staff officer nodded before striding out of the studio to relay his orders. He let out a sigh, straightened his shirt and realized he hadn’t taken the microphone off. When he turned around to face the host, he almost frowned because he saw the camera was on.
“I’m sorry about that, but we came back from commercial…” She started to explain, but Garret waved her off while plastering a smile on his face.
“Actually I should be apologizing for delaying your show.” He told her as he sat back down. “Unfortunately, sometimes things come up that must be dealt with immediately. In this case, a ship with engine trouble inside the buffer zone is something I have to deal with directly.”
“Why is that?” She asked him curiously. “We talked earlier about your dual role as military commander and Speaker, but here we are seeing it live in action.”
“Yes, well, in this case, the treaty that ended the Great War created the buffer zone between us and the Empire.” Garret explained. “It set forth certain conditions where either side might legally enter the zone, but entering it for any other reason could be an act of war. Most of the conditions for allowable entry require the approval of an officer who, at a minimum, holds the rank I do in the Republic military or comparable rank in the Imperial military. Every second counts in situations like this, so it was necessary to interrupt me in order to get the necessary orders issues.”
“So you are actively involved in the day-to-day operations of the military?” She asked and he nodded.
“It’s part of what makes my days so long.” Garret said with a rueful smile.
“Are you up to answering some questions or do you need to leave?” She asked him.
“Let’s get to those questions.” Garret said with an excited undertone to his voice as he sat forward a bit in his chair. “Military operations shouldn’t be micromanaged in most cases. My officers know what they are doing and they’ll do it better without me standing over their shoulders. If they need me, they’ll come get me and I’ll have to apologize to you again for leaving early. Unless that happens, how about we finish up the show?”
“That’ll be great…” She said and motioned for the first audience member to come forward and ask a question.
“Your Grace…” A wiry man in his mid-thirties said as he stood at a microphone set up along one of the aisles.
“Excuse me.” Garret interrupted him gently, making sure he was smiling. “Please don’t think you need to address me like that. Such terms are common among the Imperials of Earth I know, but in the Republic such terms don’t apply. If you feel the need to address me formally, Speaker Atrix is more than sufficient. Otherwise, please use Monsieur Atrix, or even just Garret.”
“Uh, sorry, Monsieur Speaker.” The man said after clearing his throat.
“That works as well, good sir.” Garret said with a smile while a few of the braver audience members chuckled. “Please, ask your question.”
“Monsieur, I’m a member of the Pipefitters Local 350.” The man said.
“Ah, greetings then, brother.” Garret said with a smile. “You might know I’m a member of the Calos Shipmaster’s Guild. It’s always good to meet a fellow Guild member.”
“Yes, well that’s what my question is about, Monsieur, the Guild.” The man said much as Garret now expected. “You keep saying that it’s not your job as a Speaker to tell Calosians how to live their lives but you’ve directly interfered in a Guild matter with the Shipwright’s Guild. How do you explain that?”
“You are speaking about the recent work slowdowns being experienced as members of the Shipwright’s Guild refused to work on ships I’ve ordered based on claims of religious beliefs, are you not?” Garret asked to make sure no one watching misunderstood.
“Yes.” The man replied, now appearing much more confident. “You directly interfered with the internal operations of a Guild.”
“In a way, you are correct, but I would not call it interfering.” Garret replied while keeping his smile on his face.
“What would you call it?” The man asked.
“As the person that ordered those ships, I am contractually involved in matters concerning the timely production of the order.” Garret began his explanation. “I authorized millions of credits for timely construction, gave my approval to the final contracts agreed upon by the Guilds and the Shipyards. The Calosian Shipyards were chosen to build these ships specifically by me. I’ll admit that I was taken aback that on the words of an Earther, good workers would refuse to work on these ships.
“Be that as it may, I am determined that the people of Calos will benefit as much as possible from their construction. These ships provide jobs for thousands of people, and with the work slowdown being experienced by the refusal of these men and women on religious grounds, I could have transferred the order off-planet. That would have left them, all the other workers involved in the shipyards, and thousands more who depend on them for food and shelter to lose their jobs. That would have had a pretty bad spiraling effect on Calos as a whole, not just the Shipyards and their employees. Right away, I ruled out exercising that option because I did not want to see the people of Calos hurt that way.
“Instead, I chose to meet with the representatives of the Shipyards and with the Guild itself.” Garret continued after a pause for a breath. The great thing about this format of a show was that he could give lengthier answers. “We worked out a deal that allowed the Shipyards to meet their contractual obligations while still allowing the workers involved to refuse to work based on their religious beliefs and still receive a paycheck. Their contracts allow for up to twenty days of paid leave for religious observances, and the Shipyards and Guild both agreed to consider their refusal to work as a religious observance. Meanwhile, I authorized the disbursement of one point three million credits from my personal accounts to cover twenty days of overtime shifts that would allow the shipyards to meet their deadlines. They in turn used that money to pay any volunteers willing to work double shifts. So far that appears to be working. Those religious observers who do not wish to work for an ‘abomination’ are collecting twenty days of pay without having to lift a finger while their fellow Guild members are able to volunteer for overtime shifts and are bringing home nearly double their normal paycheck.”
“But it’s creating an untenable situation for the believers!” The man cried out with a deep frown. “They’re seeing their Guild mates bring home fat paychecks while they get just their regular pay. What happens when the twenty days run out and they don’t get their checks anymore?”
“Is it my obligation to pay them for refusing to work on the ships I’ve ordered?” Garret asked as he tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow.
“Um…” The man paused, unsure of what to say.
“They will be out of work because they have held fast to their religious beliefs.” Garret continued after the man didn’t respond. “I can respect deeply held beliefs like that. It reminds me of my belief in the Republic and our form of governing. That is why I’m willing to spend over a million of my own credits to make sure they have this opportunity. If they wish to continue past their twenty days, that will be their choice. I’ve done my part though, to give them time to find another job where they will not have to compromise their principles. After that, well I would think that the person they look to for those principles would put forth his own money to help them out. After all, it is his will that they are following.”
“They are following the will of God!” The man said with indignation and Garret had his guess confirmed that the man was a Jordanite.
“I believe the strictures of their faith say the words of ecclesiastical leaders are to be considered the word of their God, is that not so?” Garret clarified.
“Well, yes.” The man said and Garret nodded.
“Thank you for asking your question, monsieur, and thank you for making it such an interesting one.” Garret said before turning his head and looking at a rather young woman, maybe in her early twenties. She blushed slightly as he looked at her. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the man who he’d been talking to turn back around and reclaim his seat.
“Oh, uh, hi Monsieur Speaker.” She blushed. “I’m Giselle Chester. Is it true that you’re just twenty-one years old?”
“Yes, that’s true.” Garret answered her with his ‘charming’ smile that Lelaine had made him practice for an entire hour yesterday. It must have worked because she actually giggled before turning around and heading back to her seat. Garret turned back to the first microphone where an elderly woman blushed when he focused his smile on her. Hmm, maybe he’d have to try it on Aaron later tonight?
“Monsieur Speaker, I was going to ask something else, but I’m curious now.” The woman said with her cheeks still blushing. “If you’re only twenty-one, how could you have been at the Siege of Braxix?”
“I was almost fifteen during the Siege.” Garret answered her.
“What?” She exclaimed. “You were just a boy when that happened! But they say you took command and fought the earthers off!”
“I did.” Garret nodded while the smile bled from his face to be replaced with a very, very slight frown. “I grew up in those weeks, ma’am. By the end, when we’d take a sip of water, we’d ingest a little of the gas and end up puking a bit of blood from the contamination. It took months of a special diet and huge doses of medicine to return my body to normal, but it took years for the nightmares to go away. Sometimes I still wake up in a cold sweat from nightmares based off those memories.”
“But you were just a boy!” She protested with horror and Garret shrugged.
“We learn to serve as children, and we often can’t wait the years necessary to grow from boyhood to adult hood until we’re needed.” Garret answered, leaving the ‘we’ sufficiently vague to mean clones or to mean the Great Houses. “So yes I am twenty-one, but I’ve seen, and done a lot in my life, as have thousands upon thousands of others who served in the Republic’s Armed Forces during the Great War.”
Garret nodded at her briefly as she bowed her head to him and returned to her seat. He wondered who had planted her in the audience. He was betting Davin since Devin wasn’t quite as good at picking people who had nimble enough minds to take advantage of situations like this woman had. Whoever had picked her, they’d better give her a bonus for the apt way she’d handled her ‘question’.
“Is it true that you were once a whore?” This questioner was an older woman wearing a gray dress and a veil over her silver hair. There was no need to guess that she was a Jordanite. Her clothes alone proclaimed that.
“Yes.” Garret answered honestly since it was fairly common knowledge. “At the end of the war, the military sold my contract to a pleasure house and I was required to fulfill the duties associated with such establishments. At the time, I did not know of my ancestry as a replacement clone of Garret Atrix, so I did not know I could remove myself from that employment.”
“Did you enjoy yourself?” She asked with contempt in her voice. “I’d imagine a real person would have killed himself before allowing his body to be used for such perversions!”
“Suicide is one of the worst of sins, is it not?” Garret asked her and she harrumphed before turning away from the microphone. It was hard to resist a smile at that point.
“Speaker Atrix, I was wondering how many people you think will be employed by your business ventures and development grants?” The next questioner, a middle-aged man dressed in a moderately-expensive suit asked. Garret suppressed a frown this time. He’d have to have a word with Devin about picking people who would ask planted questions a little too obviously.
“Well, first off, House Atrix currently employs about sixty-eight people here on Calos for household operations.” Garret answered after taking a moment to sort everything out in his head. “About a third of those came to Calos with us while the rest were hired here. We have three ships running cargo and passenger operations, and we have four planetary docks as well as six satellite offices throughout the Republic. Between the ships and other operations, we employ another three hundred and eight people. Currently we have contracts with two shipyards to build ships for our passenger and cargo lines. Those shipyards are employing nine thousand, six hundred and forty-three people, about two-thirds of which are here on Calos. We have granted two thousand, eight hundred and six economic development grants or loans. From those loans, small businesses currently employ around two hundred and twenty-four thousand people. Slightly more than half of that number is here on Calos. We expect the next round of grants and loans, which are to be announced in two weeks, will employ another eighty thousand people here on Calos and just as many throughout the Republic. There are plans for two more rounds of grants and loans this year, but we are unable to predict how many more jobs will be created by those grants. Nor are we able to provide specific numbers of jobs being created as those newly employed people spend their paychecks in grocery stores, shopping malls, and the like.”
“Thank you, Speaker.” The man said as he smiled and turned to sit back down. Really, Garret thought to himself, how much more obvious could a plant in the audience get?
“I’m afraid we only have time for one more question.” Margaret said as she stood up and moved to Garret’s side. “So, let’s hear from you, young man.”
“Hi.” The rather handsome young man said with a slight blush as Margaret pointed to him. He was dressed in a rather threadbare shirt and loose pants that looked like they’d seen better days. “My name is Roget Denair. I’m from the Lovan Province where it’s still criminal for a man to sleep with a man. I understand most of the Republic doesn’t have laws about sexual relations the way we do. When are you going to make the local provinces like Lovan, who still criminalize such things, change their laws?”
“I’m not.” Garret said with a shrug and the man actually winced. While he continued with his response, he moved his left hand in a silent signal to his people to intercept the young man and interview him… gently. “Local laws are the responsibility of the local and planetary governments to pass, repeal, and enforce. As a Speaker of the Deliberatorium, I have no influence or power over those laws. If you, or anyone, believe a local law violates their unalienable human rights, they may of course seek redress in Republic courts.”
“But the local courts have upheld the laws!” The man almost wailed, a clear look of discomfort on his face. “You have to do something!”
“I’m sorry, we’re running out of time.” Margaret said with a smile, although her eyes held a great deal of discomfort.
“I understand.” Garret said to her. “Roget, why don’t you speak to one of my staff on the way out and we’ll talk some more later.”
“You said you weren’t going to do anything.” He spat back, a look of anger showing on his face.
“I said I cannot force the local governments to change their laws.” Garret reiterated. “I did not say I am uninterested in your situation, especially if you feel there is some wrong occurring. This is not the time, nor the place, for that discussion though. That does not mean I won’t talk with you or make inquiries with the local authorities to determine for my own conscience the situation that exists in Lovan or any other province.”
“Fine.” Roget said and Garret took a closer look. He looked lean, like he’d been undernourished, and the more Garret studied him, the more he looked like he’d not even reached eighteen yet. His dirty blond hair wasn’t that long, but it had the shaggy look of hair that had not been cut recently. Yes, there was a story there and he’d be interested in hearing it before too long.
“Margaret, I want to thank you for having me here.” Garret said to his host, who grinned her million-credit smile.
“Speaker Atrix, the pleasure has been mine.” She said. “I hope you can find time in your busy schedule to come back some day!”
“I will.” Garret assured her, actually meaning what he said. Despite the obvious plants in the audience, this had been a good experience. If he showed up too often, it would not have quite as much of an impact, but maybe once or twice a year would work. He thought those, and other thoughts while she did her typical farewell and the cameras finally turned off.
“I really do hope you’ll come back.” She said as several assistants, both hers and his rushed the dais. “The preliminary ratings are through the roof. Nearly two-thirds of all screens on the planet tuned in to this broadcast. It’s setting a ratings record already and that’s not even the final numbers.”
“Congratulations.” Garret said with a smile.
“Don’t worry, you’ve won me over.” She assured him with a pat on the arm before letting an assistant drag her away. Garret succumbed to the urgent looks of the young red-headed boy that Lelaine had hired as a Public Relations Assistant. While she stuck with Masako, he had the boy whose name was Barret Niles, sounded too much like Garret at times.
“We’re running right on time.” The young man, not yet twenty years old, said as Garret headed backstage. Davin was right behind him, a frown on his face as they entered the small ‘green’ room, a term old enough that it was rumored to have been used on Earth before the first commercial space ship was even built.
“Good.” Garret said as he sat in a chair and the young man began to use some chemicals to remove the make-up from Garret’s face. The damn stuff was necessary to make him appear normal on the airwaves, but he hated it with a passion. “Jennifer, anything new?”
“Your orders are being carried out, Commodore.” She said stiffly. “Nothing else to report yet.”
“Good.” Garret stated before turning his attention to Davin. “I want you to tell Devin that the man who asked the question about job creation was way too obvious of an audience plant.”
“Sir, he wasn’t a plant.” Davin said with a frown. “Neither Devin nor I had anything to do with his question.”
“Oh.” Garret said, taken aback by that bit of news.
“You do have people out there who are supportive of you, sir.” Barrett said as he dabbed off the last of the make-up and handed Garret a warm cloth. Garret used it to wipe off his face, leaving it feeling clean. “Our last poll showed your support amongst the general population is increasing despite the best efforts of the Bishop and President.”
“Yes, well, thank you.” Garret said with a sigh.
“Just doing my job.” Barrett said as Garret stood up. They had another appointment to get to and it was on the other side of the city.
“Are we ready to go?” Garret asked.
“What about the young man you wanted us to interview?” Davin asked him.
“Take him… well, we’re moving into the hotel this weekend, right?” Garret asked, referring to the hotel that was near the site where their new home was being built.
“Yes, and we’ve already begun moving staff up there.” Davin said.
“Take him up there and find out what’s really going on.’ Garret ordered. “Ask him to go, don’t order it.”
“Will do, milord.” Davin said before turning to speak into the headset he was wearing.
“Let’s get a move on, then.” Garret ordered and they filed out of the room.
Minutes later, they were in one of the armored air cars that shuttled Garret around New Edinburgh. With Barret, Davin, Jennifer, and two others of his new staffers in the back with him, it was slightly crowded. While they all talked about what they viewed as a successful performance, Garret stared out the window at the bustling skyline of the city and wondered how exactly he’d become a politician.
He knew the answer to that musing, and it did not sit well with him. Great Houses were supposed to be above the political consideration of the planets that they resided on, but as with so many other things, Calos was the exception to the rule. Garret felt the sudden chill as the vehicle entered the section of the city known as the “Twilight Sector”.
It was just a hope that the sudden chill had nothing to do with his future on Calos.
As with all my stories, E provides immeasurable input, grammar checking, and all those other lovely editing thingies that make the story so much better!
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