

Redeemed

Steve M. Benner

Smashwords Edition

Copyright Steve M. Benner 2008

Paul McKenzie stared absentmindedly at the backs of his hands as they rested on the conference-room table. He noticed that they seemed to be much older than the 51 year-old frame to which they were attached. Maybe it was just a trick of the pale blue light that flooded through the room's cathedral windows. He felt like he'd aged ten years during the last three months of negotiations, but he hadn't thought it showed. At least now it appeared as though it had all been worthwhile. The Horologi representatives had left the room, most likely to communicate with their leaders back on their home world of Horolog. The delay of about 15 minutes for transmissions between Sirus V and Horolog would mean that the conversation would take a while. Paul was confident that the terms would be accepted. He had made sure that the delegates had agreed to all the points in the treaty before he had recommended that the Horologii take a break to talk among themselves. Luckily, First Consul Gibbon had given him full powers to negotiate with the Horologii, which saved him from having to constantly contact the Consortium's leaders for their approval on specifics. Gibbon had clearly spelled out to Paul what he would accept in terms of concessions, and, after being an ambassador for 22 years, Paul was confident that he knew what was best for his people. It wasn't like Gibbon to give anyone this much power, but Paul was considered the grand old man of diplomacy, and Gibbon may have felt that they would obtain a better treaty if his representative wasn't tied down by too many restrictions. Not that Gibbon really had much choice. The enemy had asked for Paul specifically and wouldn't even begin unless he led the talks. His reputation for fairness and honesty had taken two decades to establish, and now it was paying off with the settlement of a war that had lasted fifteen years and destroyed millions of lives. Paul felt his position in history would be guaranteed by the signing of this treaty.

He was right, but not in the way he thought.

After about an hour and a half, Paul began to worry that they might not get an answer today. Then he heard the door open and the Horologii re-entered the room. His heart dropped into his shoes as soon as he saw them. Their hairless faces, with only slits for eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, were always hard to read, but there was definitely something wrong. Paul had gotten used to reading their minimal expressions over the last few years. He remembered their disgust and anger at the start of their meeting three months ago. Their demeanor changed with time to the point that, in the last few days, they almost appeared happy. But he had never seen the expression now on their faces; it was clearly a burning rage. Paul was shocked; he had been sure the terms that had been agreed to would benefit the Horologii as much as the Consortium. He couldn't believe that they had rejected them.

As Paul rose from his seat, the leader of the Horologi delegation walked to the table opposite Paul and addressed him. The words flowed out of the translator.

"I have never experienced such treachery as I have witnessed at this table. For the last few months, we have negotiated in good faith to end a war that I believed we both wanted to bring to a close. Obviously, I was wrong."

The blood drained from Paul's face as the words struck him like slaps on the cheeks. He now knew there was something else going on behind this negotiation.

The Horologi leader continued, "I have just been informed that the Consortium has launched a major operation against the Denebolan system."

Paul was stunned. This system was one of the main points of contention between the warring powers. Both sides claimed the system, and both had civilian and military bases scattered throughout its planets. The loss of the system would be a major strategic blow to either side. One of the major compromises of the treaty negotiations had been to declare the system a non-military buffer zone.

The Horologi leader said, "If it were in my power, I would have you arrested and immediately executed for war crimes. But we are on neutral ground, and I will honor the safe passage agreement of the delegates. Should we every meet again, however, be warned that I will kill you myself." He turned and stormed out of the room followed by the four members of his delegation.

A stunned Paul fell back into his chair. The other delegates in the room were in a similar state. He couldn't get his thoughts in order as his mind was flooded by images and suppositions. His aide, Theo Farthing, walked up behind him and bent down to whisper in his ear, "I don't understand. What's he mean we've launched a major operation?"

Theo's words sounded to Paul as if they were coming from a great distance, and the words sunk in very slowly. He didn't understand why the Consortium had attacked Denebola, but there surely must have been a good reason. Regaining his equilibrium, he stood up and looked at Theo. Paul saw fear and shock in his deep blue eyes. Theo was only 25 years old and still new at this, but Paul had brought him along because he had one of the sharpest and quickest minds he had ever seen in someone so young.

Paul had to get back to Earth and find out what had happened. He turned to Theo, "Tell everyone to pack their stuff. We're leaving immediately."

~

Paul sat in the communications center waiting for a link back to Earth. He could feel the strange electricity in the air that was generated during a hyperspace jump. It always made him feel uncomfortable and irritable, but he knew it was critical to maintain control of all his emotions. He had to be able to talk to First Consul Gibbon in a detached manner. Some doubts about the timing of the attack had begun to creep into his mind, and he wanted to make sure that he knew exactly what had prompted the action.

As he waited, Paul distracted himself by studying the com-room around him. The door was shut with a cipher lock on it, and the composite walls were painted gray and bore no decorations. That was the trouble with traveling on a military vessel; they were boring and didn't have the luxuries to which he'd become accustomed. Though, considering the present circumstances, Paul thought that a warship was probably his safest means of travel.

The only exception to the monotonous grey was the wall facing Paul. This wall was almost completely covered by a viewing screen. Seated just five meters away from it, the screen seemed way too big to Paul. The room was secured for top-secret transmission, and Paul could see the flickering lights along the bottom of the screen indicating that the com-link was still being established. Communication during a hyper-jump was not that easy, but Paul could not wait two days to find out what was happening. He had wanted to talk to Gibbon before he left Sirus V, but the need to get as far away from the Horologii as possible before they rescinded their guarantee of safe passage was the greater priority.

The screen flickered once and the smiling face of First Council Crayton Gibbon appeared on the screen. Gibbon was one of the smartest and, at only 45 years old, one of the youngest to hold the office. At 2.1 meters tall, he was short by Earth standards, with a full head of brown hair and piercing black eyes highlighting a handsome, clean-shaven face. Gibbon was known for his charm, intelligence, and temper, and Paul had learned to respect all three. With his very commanding presence, Gibbon made sure everyone knew he was in charge.

"Well it's good to see you got outta there with your head intact," Gibbon laughed. "I was worried about your well-being when they got the news. I'd been hoping you'd be back before the attack, but you took so long, and my advisors said the time was right. Well, the rest is history now."

"Are you saying you'd been planning this attack for some time?" Paul responded. A depressing possibility had been working its way out of Paul's subconscious, which Gibbon had just blatantly confirmed. Now he knew why Gibbon had given him so much leeway in the negotiations.

"Of course. The basic plan was laid out about a year ago. We needed the truce to build up our forces for a knockout blow. The logical target was the Denebolan system. The negotiations, your negotiations, on Sirus V were a great distraction."

"You could've let me in on the plan."

"I wanted to, but my advisors said that you would be more convincing if you thought the negotiations were for real."

Paul knew that if Gibbon had wanted to tell him, Gibbon's advisers would not have talked him out of it. "Well it was nice of you to leave me hanging out there. They could have killed us, and I wouldn't have blamed them."

"Hey, it was a chance I was willing to take. Come on, Paul, old friend, it all worked out so perfectly. The last report from the Denebolan sector said we caught them with their pants down and all of their military bases have either been destroyed or crippled. Now all we have to do is mop up what's left, and fortify the system for the inevitable counterattack."

"What about civilian casualties?"

"That's the nice thing, we haven't had any."

"I meant the Horologi civilians?"

"Oh. Well the ones near the military bases were probably wiped out. The rest of them we'll hit at our leisure because they no longer have any protection. It should only take a month or two to eliminate them. Why?"

"Just curious."

"It'll be good to have you back, Paul. We're goin' to have to do some fancy footwork with our allies. They may not be seeing the big picture on this. We neglected to tell them about our little plan--you know, security and all that--and I'm not sure how they'll take the news. But the way I look at it, without us they'd be just a memory by now, so they can't bitch too much," Gibbon laughed. "See you in a few days."

The screen went dark, and the half smile on Paul's face slowly dissolved into a scowl.

"That son-of-a-bitch, he used me! He counted on my reputation to make the negotiations appear genuine. He didn't tell me because he knew I'd tell him to drop dead. Once it was a fait accompli, I'd have to go along, or claim I'd been left out of the loop and admit I'd been used as a cover by the administration. What really pisses me off is that he's right. If I say I didn't know about and didn't support the action, then there will be a few leaks to the press about meetings I sat in on where the attack had been discussed. My credibility would be shot, and, from that point on, I'd be on the outside looking in. Gibbon would have an excuse to dismiss me from the Council. I'm screwed." Paul continued to sit in the chair, silently staring at the blank screen for a long time.

~

When the ship landed at the military spaceport, Paul's limo was waiting for him. He sat in the back of the limo trying to come up with a plan of action. He usually got a kick out of riding in government limos with all their high-tech communications and computer equipment—and especially the built-in bar. Today, however, he was deep in thought, staring out at the gray military buildings rushing by his window. Paul saw that the trees were beginning to change color, which seemed unusual for early September. Autumn was his favorite time of the year. He wanted to go home before heading to the Consortium headquarters to meet with First Council. Paul had asked his aid, Theo, to take one of the other cars so he could be alone to think. Now he thought maybe that wasn't such a good idea, as it seemed the more he thought, the more depressed he became.

Paul felt the limo decelerating and assumed they were approaching the front gate, where they would be checked and released. He looked through the windshield and was amazed to see a large crowd of people gathered just outside the gate.

"Jack, what's this all about?"

The driver turned his head slightly toward Paul, "I'm sorry, Mr. McKenzie, but I thought you knew. First Council Gibbon had a press conference today and mentioned your considerable contribution to the victory. The crowd appears to be few hundred reporters and well-wishers. I think they want you to say a few words."

The irony was so pungent that Paul had to let out a short, sardonic laugh. He had hoped to come home from the conference acclaimed as the man who ended a devastating war on terms beneficial to Earth. Instead, he was coming home to acclaim as a party to a shameful military action of which he had no foreknowledge and which he would not have supported had he known. Gibbon was making sure Paul wouldn't be able to back out of the situation into which he had been maneuvered.

The guard checked their IDs and let them pass through the gate. On the other side, the driver pulled over to the side of the road to allow Paul to exit the car. Security personnel had already exited the lead car and were outside Paul's door. The driver opened Paul's door, and the four security agents surrounded Paul as he exited the car. The crowd cheered at his appearance, and Paul covered the intervening 20 meters as slowly as he could. He had to be very careful what he said, and yet he needed to sound sincere and spontaneous. Fortunately, Paul had made enough speeches in his lifetime that fake sincerity had become second nature to him. So, he mentioned how proud he was of their brave troops' victory, and how well the war was going. He talked of how they had turned the corner, and that peace, on their terms, was now within their grasp. It was the standard patriotic pabulum that people in his position poured out to the general public.

The crowd of several hundred interrupted his speech at several points to cheer him, and, when he finished with a standard "on to total victory" comment, they roared in approval. Paul couldn't help but be impressed and elated by the adulation of so many people. After all, he was still human—and a politician. But he knew deep down that this popularity could be fleeting. He waved to the crowd as he headed back to the limo, smiling broadly. Once ensconced in the back seat again, however, he was no longer smiling. Paul couldn't figure out a way to get out of this mess. He would have to bide his time and look for a way to correct this situation. Hopefully tomorrow's meeting of the council would inspire some ideas.

~

After a very restless night and a minimal breakfast, Paul was sitting in his regular seat at the conference table with the other members of the high council when Gibbon entered the room, trailing his entourage of secretaries. Each member of the high council represented a different branch of government. The councilor of legal affairs, Stephen Stimpson, sat directly across from Paul. He was a large man, both in girth and height, and had at least two chins resting on his chest. His hair and bushy eyebrows were pure white, giving him a deceptively jovial appearance. Behind his soft green eyes, there lurked an utterly ruthless mind—a mind that protected his turf like a grizzly protecting her cubs. Paul had learned to stay out his way, and luckily it hadn't been too hard. Subtlety was not one of Stephen's strong points.

The councilor to Stephen's right was General Robert Holts, head of all the Consortium's military forces, and handpicked by Gibbon. He sat ramrod straight in his seat, his lean frame looking very martial in his uniform. Paul thought he had one of the sharpest minds on the council and one of the most inscrutable. Even though he was Gibbon's man, he seemed to have a will of his own, and Paul wondered the extent to which he really was Gibbon's man. To Stephen's left was the financial councilor, Girk Vollunteire, the only non-Earthling that was part of Gibbon's inner group. Like his fellow Centaurians, Vollunteire was just 1.6 meters tall, with a pale purplish tint to his skin and no hair. His large black eyes were looking at Paul as Paul's eyes met his. Paul liked Girk and had spent many a night at local bars discussing politics with him. Paul had gotten used to his expressions and thought he detected a sadness in the dark interior of Girk's eyes.

The other eleven people around the table represented the other systems that made up the Consortium: the Centauri, Luyten, Ross, Epsilon Eridani, Lalande, Groombridge, Lacaille, Kruger, Cygni, Gliese, and Van Maanen Systems. Paul knew all of them because it was his job to deal with them, but he was not very close to any of them except Dran Philo of the Lalande System. Dran was a good friend and one of his allies on the council. The Lalandians were so similar to Earthlings that they were sometimes mistaken for Earth citizens. Dran was the same height as Paul and had brown hair and brown eyes. He was considered handsome and was something of a ladies man on Earth as well as in the Lalande System. When it came to protecting the interests of Lalande, he was relentless, but he was also fair. The Lalande System was the second most powerful member of the Consortium and was afforded a certain respect by Gibbon, which was not the norm for him. This was due to the Earth being by far the most powerful member of the Consortium and having no qualms about making sure the other members knew it. Gibbon had been chosen by the Assembly as Earth's chief executive and representative on the Consortium Council, which by default made him the First Council and leader of the Council. The Assembly was the chief ruling body of the Earth and was made up of representatives of all the Earth's countries. The majority party in the Assembly chose the chief executive who served as civilian head of the Earth's (and the Consortium's) military. The Earth's representative had held that position for the last twenty-two years. Like Athens with the Delian League in the fifth century B.C., Earth claimed that all members of the Consortium were equal, but Earth was more equal.

The irony of the situation was that Earth depended on its allies for financial and military support—without which the Horologii would quickly overwhelm Earth's forces. Gibbon's arrogance toward the allies had made the other members resentful and distrustful of his leadership. They really believed he had only Earth's best interest at heart and not theirs. Since the Consortium's conception, the First Council has been an Earthling, which had only served to reinforce this mistrust. As a result of Earth's predominance, the allies had little choice but to follow its lead into the current war. Though in Gibbon's defense, the allies had initially supported this war with the Horologian League wholeheartedly, and only as costs and casualties mounted did their doubts about the war begin to grow.

Gibbon sat down in his chair, located at the center of the table. The chair sat on a slightly raised platform to give him a little more height, a touch of vanity that had become an inside joke among the members. The side conversations dropped off as Gibbon began the meeting.

"Hello, everyone, let's get right down to business. I know most of you have already heard the details of the Denebolan offensive, but as some of the representatives have just arrived, as well as Mr. McKenzie, I would like General Holts to give us a summary of the war up to this point. General?"

"Thank you, First Council. As one would expect, the majority of the activity is taking place in the Denebolan system." A three-dimensional view of the system appeared above the table. The seven planets of the system rotated slowly around a red star.

"The initial assault was totally successful and destroyed or severely damaged the Horologian military installations on the three habitable worlds and the two outposts on the outer planets. We immediately set up a strong perimeter around the system after our strike because we knew they would be forced to make a counterattack or concede the system to us. As of this time, there have only been probing attacks by the Horologii. We know they are pulling military resources from other areas in preparation for an assault. I believe we are ready and able to repel any attacks.

"In terms of casualties, we lost four cruisers, five destroyers, six transports, and various support ships with most of their crews. Around 900,000 naval personnel are dead. We lost about another half million in ground troops. Minimal losses, considering the gains we've made. The Horologii probably lost three times as many soldiers and civilians.

"Over the next few weeks, the ground troops will continue to subjugate the civilian populations of the habitable planets and wipe out any resistance. We are repairing the military facilities as fast as we can, so our troops can use them for the defense of the planets."

"Any concerns at this point?" Paul interjected.

"The main thing that worries me is that we stripped our forces from some of the other sectors to mount this attack. We are spread very thin in places, especially with respect to our allies." As he said this, General Holts looked at the representatives of the Consortium at the table. There were not a lot of happy faces among them.

"Well, you said that the Horologii are also withdrawing their forces for a counterattack, so it's likely they will be too weak to attack elsewhere. I'm sure we can handle anything they throw at us, either in the Denebolan system or anywhere else. This blow must have weakened them considerably," Gibbon added.

"Let's hope so," Dran commented dryly.

"Dran, we aren't going to leave our allies out on a limb," Gibbon responded in his best confident manner. "We're all together in this."

The expression on Dran's face didn't change. He never really trusted Earthlings, and he trusted Gibbon even less. "I guess we'll see."

The rest of the meeting centered on financing the ongoing war and recruiting more resources for the army. The war had been going on long enough to have drained most of the manpower of the Consortium planets. Even though there were trillions of humans living in these systems, the war had killed off or incapacitated most of those fit for military service. Those that had survived to this point were ready to retire. The half million men killed in the attack on Denebola, though a small percent of the entire army, were not easily replaced. The allies especially were beginning to feel the strain. This was the main reason Paul's peace mission was sent in the first place.

Paul briefed the councilors on his negotiations with the Horologii and stated that he had been very close to establishing a treaty. Gibbon seemed amused by the narrative, but Paul could tell that several of the representatives were more than unhappy; they were angry. Paul had talked to several of the representatives before going to Sirus V, and they had expressed their hopes that the negotiations would be successful. That may have explained why the allies were not included in the planning for the surprise attack. Paul thought he could exploit the fact that the allies were left out of the loop by playing on their dislike and distrust of Gibbon. If he could increase the wedge between Earth and its allies on this issue, it might work to his advantage.

After about four hours, the meeting broke for lunch. Paul was able to mingle with the members of the Council and begin to get back into the flow after being gone for three months. While on Sirus V he had kept himself up to date on what was happening in diplomatic circles, but that was no substitute for one-on-one, private conversations. The trouble he spotted almost immediately was that everyone thought he had been in on the planning of the Denebolan attack. He was considered Gibbon's pawn by the representatives and thus was not to be trusted. That was going to be hard to overcome. The irony of his situation was that Paul doubted Gibbon really trusted him either. Paul had to ingratiate himself with both sides again, or he would have no influence at all. He decided his main hope lay with Dran.

Paul wanted to talk to Dran during lunch, but Stephen grabbed Paul's arm in the corridor and started talking in a very low voice.

"Listen, Paul, let's get one thing clear, I think Gibbon is a fool for keeping you on staff. He thinks you've been brought into the fold, but I don't trust you, and you'd better not screw up."

"Stephen, that really hurts! Here I thought we were the best of buddies. Thanks for the warning." Paul turned away, easily breaking Stephen's hold on his arm, and continued his search for Dran. _Boy, Stephen's as subtle as a nuclear explosion_ , he thought, as he walked along the corridor.

Gibbon knew that Stephen disliked Paul and disagreed with the decision to keep him on staff, and he knew that, given the opportunity, Stephen would tell Paul exactly how he felt. This was okay with Gibbon since he did not trust Paul either and had kept him on only because he knew he had Paul in a no-win situation. He believed that Paul would have to support him as long as he thought it was in his best interest and the best interest of the Consortium. Gibbon was playing on Paul's patriotism even though it placed the Consortium before the Earth. He was astute enough to know that, once Paul was in a position to do so, he would try to strike back at Gibbon, but he would be ready for it and would use it to his own advantage. Gibbon had Hernst Caliper, the head of Internal and External Intelligence (IEI), place one of his best men on Paul to watch his every move. As backup, he had one more person watching Paul–someone Paul would not suspect of being a spy. Gibbon would use Paul to lead him to those members of the Consortium, Assembly, and even his own administration whose loyalty was suspect. With his years of experience and many contacts in both Earth's and the allies' governments, Paul was the perfect person to supply Gibbon with a long list of names for retribution. For a second time, Gibbon was planning to trick Paul into unwittingly doing his bidding. Gibbon loved the irony.

Paul failed to corner Dran during lunch, and once the meeting was adjourned for the day Dran seemed to disappear. Paul was sure Dran was avoiding him, but he knew where Dran would head that night. Paul's spies had told him Dran had a new girlfriend in Antioch, a small town on the outskirts of Consortium City. Paul had a very good idea where he could find his friend.

~

That night, when Dran came into the small café with a beautiful girl on his arm, Paul was already there, seated at a table in the corner with one of his most trusted guards. He wasn't sure that Dran would be eating out tonight, but he knew that if he was, he would come to this Italian café. Dran was a Italian food addict, and this was the best one in the area. He waited until Dran was seated, so he couldn't just turn around and leave. Then Paul walked up to his table and took a seat before Dran could react.

"We need to talk."

"I'm sorry, but I'm busy right now, and you're being very rude, ya know." Dran had learned English from a New Yorker, and he never managed to get the word "you" right.

"I know I am, but I couldn't wait to be polite. You've been avoiding me and not taking my calls."

"Well, I'm sorry that ya feel that way. Why don't ya come by my office tomorrow morning, and I'll talk to ya then, maybe? Now please leave."

"Yeah, right," Paul said very sarcastically. "Actually I think we should talk now. I could send a message to Lalande and say you were too busy dating an Earth girl to talk to me. What do you thing they'd say to that?"

"Ya know, if ya did that, I'd have to have ya turned inside out."

"Now, that's the Dran I know and love. Glad to have you back. You haven't introduced me to your new friend."

"Sandy, this is Paul McKenzie, the Foreign Affairs Councilor, the 'Hero' of the Denebolan sneak attack, and a former friend of mine. Paul, Sandy."

"Glad to meet you. Sandy, please do me a favor and please go over to that table in the corner with the nice man seated at it."

"You mean that man that looks like he is about ready to bite someone?"

"Yes, that's him. His name is Jack, and his bark is worse than his bite. On second thought, his bite is worse, but he wouldn't bite you. Promise."

Dran nodded his head at her to do as Paul said.

Sandy got up, walked over to the table, and sat as far away from Jack as she could while still sitting at the same table. Jack had that affect on people.

Dran turned from watching Sandy to look at Paul.

"Now that ya've destroyed what was gonna be a great evening, whadaya want?"

"Don't worry, this won't take long. You can get right back to getting laid." Paul pulled a small electronic devise about the size of a saltshaker out of his pocket and turned it on. Dran recognized it as a scrambler that would prevent anyone from eavesdropping on their conversation. "Now we can talk."

"Ya worried about something, or just paranoid?"

"Both. Listen, I'm going to tell you something that you can't tell anyone else, or we're both screwed. I know you don't believe this, but I was not aware of the attack on Denebola until it had already happened. I was not in on the planning and would not have agreed to the plan if I had been. You've known me long enough to know where I stand on this war. You know I want it to end."

"Actually, Paul, I do believe ya, because I _do_ know ya well enough. I just wanted ya to tell me yourself, and I didn't want to make it too easy. Ya know."

"Well, that's a relief. I had this whole monologue planned out to convince you, but I guess I'll use it on someone else. What's with the vanishing act today?"

"Ya're not what I would call popular right now among the Consortium allies. More like reviled. There are some that know ya well enough to believe ya didn't know, but the majority is against ya. I didn't want it to seem that I was being too friendly with ya. After all, I have to work with these guys also. And your public statements are not helping."

"Thanks for the support. You know I have no choice but to follow the party line; otherwise I'd be out and would lose what little pull I still have. We'll have to talk in more detail later. This is not the place. Right now, I'll let you get back to your seduction. Nice looking girl. Your government would boil you in oil if they knew what you were up to." Paul knew that the Lalandian government did not like their representatives fraternizing with the locals, especially Earthlings. They thought it compromised their judgment, but they underestimated Dran.

"Let's hope they don't find out. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Dran." Paul got up from the table, placing the scrambler back in his pocket. He signaled for Jack to join him, and they headed out of the café. Paul glanced over his shoulder as he left to see the girl walking sensuously back to Dran's table. He thought _I've got to give Cherie a call soon._

~

For the next few days, Paul was tied up in meetings and preparing reports, mostly about the war. He didn't have much time for anything else. He made sure that he always appeared to be in line with Gibbon's policies, without compromising his principals by making sure his written and spoken word was sufficiently obfuscated. He was honest with Gibbon about how things were going on the foreign front. The allies were torn between the success of the surprise attack and the hope they had had for the treaty. They wanted the war to end, one way or the other, but there was cautious support for Gibbon because the military reports were all positive. Paul knew that Gibbon was riding a high from the military success, but he also knew the Horologii were much more resilient than the First Council thought. They weren't going to let the Denebolan system change hands without a fight. Paul just wasn't sure where they would strike. General Holts thought they would stage a counterattack on the Denebolan system, but Paul didn't think the Horologii would be so stupid as to throw their wounded army into attack that was clearly anticipated. It would result in tremendous casualties without much chance of success. He saw the Horologii as a lot more sensible and subtle than that.

Paul had been formulating a plan for maneuvering the Consortium toward the negotiated peace he had almost attained at the Sirian conference and, at the same time, maybe regaining some of his self-esteem. He had worked out the overall strategy, but not the details. He knew that Gibbon's position rested on the Assembly, which in turn relied on their constituents. Gibbon's supporters currently controlled about two-thirds of the Assembly, but that still meant that one-third was in opposition. Paul needed to peel away Gibbon's support in the Assembly before he could move against him. Assembly members tended to do whatever it took to keep themselves in power, and that meant keeping the people on their side even if they had to dump someone they had previously supported. Loyalty could turn out to be prohibitively expensive. The Consortium was the second important factor in the political mix. Even though Earth was the dominant member and had a low opinion of the allies in general, they could not prosecute the war without the allies help. Earth knew it, and the allies knew it. During times of peace, the Earth could afford to dismiss the allies, but not now. If Earth lost the support of the other Consortium members for the war, Earth would be in a very vulnerable position. In order to execute his plan, it was essential that he stay in Gibbon's administration. If he were dismissed, Paul would no longer have the power to influence events, Gibbon would make sure of that. He had to convince Gibbon and his staff that he was still on the administration's team. If this meant demeaning himself, so be it.

~

Paul had managed to talk to some of the Consortium members and was making some headway on repairing his damaged reputation. In spite of his open support of Gibbon, they could tell he was genuinely concerned with their wellbeing and that his negotiations had been an honest attempt to end the conflict. Paul also managed to set up a meeting with Dran in Paul's office in the Foreign Affairs facility. Paul was confident that his office was secure. He had it swept once a week and had a scrambler on at all times. Dran, however, was not as confident and brought his own scrambler.

Paul loved his office, which was based on a design from the third decade of the twentieth century. The office had wood paneling on three walls and a built-in bookcase along the other. Paul hadn't read a book in years, but thought they looked good. His oak desk was large and covered with all the standard desk paraphernalia from the 1920's. A large, leather swivel chair was behind the desk and two leather chairs were in front of it. On the wall behind the desk hung pictures of Paul shaking hands with various interplanetary leaders from the last twenty years. Paul was not very impressed with the cult of personality, but he figured it gave him greater credibility. In the same vane, Paul was known for liberally sprinkling his conversations with quotations from the 20th century, which, unknown to him, some of his colleagues found irritating.

The office had cost him a fortune and had become something of a tourist attraction over the years. When he was not in town, people would drop by his office on periodic tours of the building. These visits had increased since his transformation to hero. Paul didn't mind the tours. Sometimes when he had a visitor, the person would ask him what this device or that object on his desk was used for, and Paul would do his best to explain its use.

Dran sat down in one of the chairs facing the desk. "When ya gonna get some decent furniture?" Dran was aware that the office was considered a museum set piece, but he never failed to make the comment when he visited Paul.

"Funny." Paul came around from behind the desk and sat in the other chair, next to Dran. "I'm glad we can talk. We have a lot to work out. I'm sure you've been following my activities, as I have yours."

"Oh, yes. It's rather interesting to watch ya walking your tightrope. The allies are warming up to ya a little, but I think they would just as soon have ya gone, hero or not. Trust is not something that can be easily reinvested in someone who'd lost it. And of course, on the other side we have Gibbon and his cronies. Ya know, the way Simpson watches you, I don't think he likes ya, Paul," Dran laughed.

"Obviously, that's not a very exclusive club. I have been working on some contingency plans should this military effort in Denebola go sour."

"As long as our military is successful in retaining both the Denebolan system and the upper hand in this war, ya aren't going to get any support for alternative plans from the allies. No one is gonna go up against Gibbon while he is riding high, flush with military victory. He sees the war ending on his terms in the next year or so. I hear he is making plans to send another peace delegation to the Horologii to set up a treaty now that he has the Denebolan system."

"Yeh, I could just see the Horologii welcoming another peace delegation. They'd shoot them on sight."

"Ya know, that would be a good reason for Gibbon to send ya." Dran laughed again. His laugh was very shrill, and Paul always thought that it sounded to humans the same as a dog whistle to a dog. "I was surprised ya managed to get off Sirus V with all your parts intact."

"I was too. I think Gibbon would have preferred to have me as a martyr."

"Ya aren't the martyr type."

"Well, in any case it looks like you're probably right about alternative plans. I guess I'll just have to wait and see how the war goes. Maybe Gibbon is right, and the war will end with us winning--at least strategically. I may be too pessimistic."

"I have found your instincts to be pretty reliable. I guess we wait." Dran managed to pull himself out of the chair with some difficulty. "Ya know, these things are dangerous. Talk to ya later."

Paul also rose to his feet and walked Dran to the door. "Good-bye. Say hello to Sandy for me."

"Good-bye," Dran smiled and left the office.

~

For the next couple months, through the fall and into early winter, everything proceeded at about the same pace. Nothing new was happening in the war except that the clean up operations in the Denebolan system didn't seem to be winding down. If anything, the military action seemed to be increasing. Paul, as the hero of the initial stage of the attack, received numerous requests to give speeches but respectfully declined almost all of them. He didn't feel very comfortable making speeches on something he didn't support for an administration he didn't like.

About that time, Paul ran into General Holts and took the opportunity to get some new info on the war. Paul wasn't sure about where Robert stood on the whole situation, but he considered him honest and forthright.

Robert told him that the mopping up operation on the Denebolan habitable worlds was not going well. The Horologian military units and civilians had banded together and switched to a guerilla war. So far these attacks had not done much damage, but they were holding up the rebuilding effort on the military facilities. The military had to send more forces to the area to protect the workers and to crack down on the guerilla activity. The shortage of available troops was stretching the security net in the other systems to the point of being almost nonexistent. The Horologii were managing to tie down large numbers of Consortium troops with a minimal expenditure of manpower. Military intelligence was beginning to suspect that the buildup of Horologian troops they had thought were for the counterattack on the Denebolan system might actually be for an assault somewhere more vulnerable. Robert looked worried, which was a very bad sign, since Paul had never seen him worried before.

Paul still had his intelligence network in place and was already aware of most of what Robert had told him, but he hadn't realized how concerned the military had become over the weakening of the security net. Paul knew the allies were becoming anxious about having their troops diverted from protecting their home systems to occupation duty in the Denebolan system. He had managed to win his way back into the good graces of Urek Chandling and Yandi Kalor, the representatives of the Luyten and Ross Systems, respectively, and he tried to include them in his discussions with Dran. As for the other representatives, they either didn't trust Paul, or visa versa.

Stephen Simpson continued to keep a close eye on Paul, but, luckily for Paul, meeting with the Consortium representatives was part of his job. Paul thought that Gibbon would have replaced him by now, since there was no love lost between them, but maybe the old idiom of "keep your friends close and your enemies closer" applied in this case. Whatever the reason, Paul was going to take advantage of his position as long as he could. He could handle Stephen. He had the feeling that someone was tracking him but hadn't figured out who it was yet. Paul knew there were a lot of people who wanted to know what he was doing and whom he was seeing.

~

In February, five months after the takeover of the Denebolan system, Paul received an emergency call, asking him to report to a meeting of the High Council immediately. He was actually in the building when the call came in, so he was one of the first ones to arrive at the meeting room. Holts and Simpson were already in their chairs. A couple of the representatives were also there, including Dran. Girk came in right after Paul and gave him a quizzical look. Obviously, Girk did not know what was going on either. It took another half hour for enough of the members to show up and provide a quorum. By then Paul had checked enough of his sources to know that it had to do with the military, but he couldn't get any details. Gibbon entered the room with his usual entourage but without his usual smile. Paul knew he must have been watching the members gather in the room and waited until there were enough to make a quorum. Gibbon didn't want to end up sitting in his chair waiting for others to show up before starting the meeting.

Gibbon sat down and immediately started talking, "This meeting is now in session. I regret to announce that our allies in the Van Maanen System were attacked by the Horologii less that five hours ago." A murmur passed through the room. Paul looked for the Van Maanen representative, but he was not present. "General Holts has the details."

"At about 0100 Earth time, the Horologii assaulted the two main inhabited planets of the Van Maanen System." The Van Maanen System of five planets orbiting a blue star appeared above the table. "They came with overwhelming force and destroyed the three cruisers we had guarding the system. They then systematically bombarded all the military installations and industrialized areas throughout the system. The Consortium Fleet and the Maanenians did not have a chance. The army is estimating at least five million dead, mostly Maanenians, and almost total destruction of those areas hit. We immediately sent a counter force to the system, but the Horologii were long gone by the time we got there."

Gibbon, in a voice slightly higher-pitched than his normal voice, said, "This is the first time they have struck one of our home worlds. This will have to be avenged."

Dran spoke up, "How do ya plan to do that? Most of our forces are tied up in the Denebolan war zone."

Holts responded, "We have some strategic reserves that we can use to strike back."

"But won't they be expecting that?" Paul jumped in. "Just like we expected them to counterattack at Denebola?"

"Yes, but we can pick the time and place."

Paul continued calmly, "What is the status of the Van Maanen System?"

Holts answered honestly and without hesitation, "They will be out of the war effort for at least two years." Another murmur passed through the room. The representatives were obviously very worried--all except for Dran, who seemed unusually calm. "Their intelligence was very good. That system was the weakest link in our security net. It didn't require that much effort to knock them out."

Dran asked dryly, "So now who's the weakest?"

Totally missing the sarcasm, Gibbon replied, "That's not important. Robert, how did they get so close to the system without our detecting them? I thought we could pick them up from a few light years out?"

"First Council, we don't know how they did it. That is still under investigation."

The next two hours of the meeting consisted mainly of Consortium representatives clamoring for more protection from the army and navy as well as the return of their own army contingents and ships to use for self-defense. Robert made the logical argument that if they spread their forces out among all the different systems, the Consortium could be defeated piecemeal. The trouble was, the Consortium had such a large part of its forces tied up in Denebola that it could not mount an offensive anywhere even if it so wanted. The strategic reserve was not large enough for that, and Holts advised that it would be unwise to use up the only reserve they have.

Though they understood militarily what the General was saying, the representatives were more concerned with preventing a Van Maanen-type attack on their own systems. But Gibbon wanted to win complete control of the Denebolan system and use it to increase his popularity and political power. The representatives were aware what kind of man Gibbon was and knew that they had to guard their own self interests. They also knew that Gibbon had the power of the Earth Assembly and military, as well as the popular support, behind him. For now, Gibbon had the upper hand, and they would have to go along.

It was dark outside by the time the meeting broke up, and the various attendees began to either contact their home worlds or initiate damage control. Paul was walking toward the door, hoping for a chance to talk to Dran before he took off, but Gibbon grabbed his arm and said, "I have to talk to you. Meet me in my office in five minutes."

"Yes, sir."

Five minutes later, Paul was sitting in a very modern, uncomfortable chair. Gibbon's office was state-of-the-art in design. It was all metal, plastic, and glass. There were view screens on every wall and furniture that looked like it could have come from a modern art museum. Paul hated it because it lacked warmth.

Paul had been waiting for fifteen minutes when Gibbon finally walked in. He looked flustered, which Paul found reassuring. Sitting down behind his desk, Gibbon said, "The allies are all over me about this strike on Van Maanen. God, it's the weakest member of the Consortium, and now even more so. It hasn't really hurt our war effort that much, though the loss of personnel and ships will hurt."

"I think you are missing the point, Gibbon. The strike was calculated to weaken the Consortium, not necessarily to hurt us militarily. The Horologii predicted this kind of reaction from the allies. Now, we are faced with two choices. Either we weaken our main force to cover the allies, and the enemy picks us off in small groups, or we can keep our main force together and let the Horologii pick off our allies. They win either way."

"Boy, aren't you a ray of sunshine? I didn't call you in here to have you point out the obvious. I've got a job for you. I want you to talk to our allies and get them to leave their forces under our overall command."

"Didn't someone once say that the only thing worse than fighting with allies is fighting without them? What do I use to convince them to follow this self-sacrificing course of action? The obvious military necessity didn't seem to work."

"This kind of negotiation is your specialty. If you can't do it, then I will get someone who can." Gibbon paused, looking at Paul. "One thing you can do is to make it very clear that we can make their lives very messy if they choose to go against us."

"So, we'll use the stick. Is there any carrot here?"

"Screw the carrot, we're in a war, and, if they can't support the effort, then they will have to suffer the consequences."

"Well, that's very clear. I'll see what I can do. Good night, First Council." Paul rose from the chair and headed for the office door.

"Get me something, Paul. I need it."

"I will," Paul lied.

~

Later that same day, Dran, Urek, Yandi, and Paul sat in the leather chairs in Paul's office, each with their scramblers next to them. The look of irritation on Dran's face took away from his good looks. Paul started the discussion, "How do the allies stand with respect to Gibbon and the war?"

Dran was considered the leader of the allies on the Council, both because he was the most astute diplomat of the group and because Lalande was the only allied power that could stand up to the Earth faction. "Not good. They're a very unhappy group of people. I think they had high hopes for your sabotaged peace mission, and they hold ya at least partially responsible. I don't know if they would be willing to back you in a move against Gibbon. Most of them still don't trust you."

"I can't blame them. I know how it looks; I'm just glad at least a few of you believe my side of the story."

"Paul, I like ya, and I trust ya as much as I have ever trusted an Earthling, which regrettably is not saying much, but I'm in the minority. Just keep in mind that I value my home system more highly than I value the Consortium. As long as the Consortium is acting in the best interests of Lalande, it will have my support."

Paul knew that Urek and Yandi supported Dran's opinion, as would most of the allies. The Consortium was originally established for commercial and defensive reasons, but over time it had become dominated by the Earth, which seemed to have little compunction about running the Consortium to their own benefit. "Your opinion is totally understandable. I, on the other hand, believe that the Consortium is the way of the future and am willing to put the interests of the Consortium before those of Earth. How do you feel about the current situation?"

A twisted smile slowly appeared on Dran's face. "I knew that our military resources were stretched even before we attacked Denebola. Gibbon gambled that Horolog would be dealt a fatal blow by the loss of the system, and he lost. Now we are in an even weaker position, and the allies know they are the ones most likely to suffer for it. They're united in wanting the war ended."

"The allies have very limited options," Paul stated flatly. "If they don't back Earth's play, Earth will likely lose the war. If that happens, the allies wouldn't be able to resist being forcibly absorbed into the Horologian League. If they make a separate peace with Horolog, Earth will lose, and they will still be absorbed into the League. The allies' only hope is to support the war until we either win it or we reach a peace agreement with the League. As much as they dislike Earth's domination of the Consortium, I think the allies would agree that being part of the Horologian League is not something they want."

"Your assessment of the situation is correct," Dran replied. "It's the reason the allies haven't just gone their own way and told Earth to shove it. If the Consortium was run as more of an equitable partnership, I think most of these internal problems would go away. But as long as Gibbon is in charge we aren't likely to have that."

"You know my opinion of Gibbon, but we can't do anything to get rid of him until something breaks, and we won't get through this unless all of the allies hold together. We have to bide our time, and the allies will have to continue to follow Earth's lead and watch for Gibbon to make a mistake."

"We agree, but it can't go on like this for very long before something gives." Dran said and turned his head to look at the two other allied representatives.

Visibly agitated, Urek spoke up, "The allies aren't going to put up with this crap much longer. They see their systems being treated as second-class members of this consortium, their best interests are not being included in Gibbon's Earth-centric policies. We will go it alone if we have to." Yandi nodded his head in agreement.

"Listen, I know how frustrating it is for the allies right now, and I sure don't blame you," Paul countered. "But, if the allies begin to go it alone, not only will the Earth be brought down, but all the allies as well. 'Going it alone' will mean that we will be picked off one at a time. I'm asking for a little more time. I have a plan that I am trying to put together that will give us the opportunity to dislodge Gibbon and bring some sanity to this war."

Yandi replied, "You're asking us to trust you without any knowledge of what you are planning. That's asking a lot. We have to see some changes soon, or it won't matter what our personal opinions are, because our home systems will decide what is best for themselves and move on it."

"As soon as I'm sure I have the pieces of my plan in place I will let you know. Telling you now would only get your hopes up and increase the likelihood that the plan will be compromised. I want to emphasize again that we can't move against Gibbon at this time. We need to set the stage and wait."

Dran stood up, "I am sorry, but we have to leave. We have another meeting." The other two men rose from their chairs and shook Paul's hand before walking to the door. Paul felt he had made some headway with the allies, but he still had to get the other pieces of his plan in place. Dran had to keep the allies in line in the meantime. Paul spent the rest of the evening talking to his various contacts in the ruling Earth Assembly.

~

At 0133 later that same night, Paul was awakened from a dead sleep by the humming of his communicator. He looked around and tried to determine exactly where he was. He mumbled, "Communicator on. Hello?"

"Are ya awake?"

Paul barely recognized Dran's voice. "I am now. What's wrong?" Dran's voice seemed stressed.

"Yandi is dead, and Urek is in critical condition."

"What? When, how?" Paul sat up quickly and turned on the light, now wide-awake.

"After we left ya, we were headed for a meeting with some of the other allies. When we arrived at the Foster Building on Connecticut Avenue for the meeting, I parked the floater on the street close to the front door. Urek and Yandi left from the side of the floater toward the building and were walking together up the front steps. I was lagging behind because I had to turn off the floater and come around from the other side. I looked up and saw the two of them silhouetted against the building's lights. Just then I caught two noiseless flashes in my peripheral vision from somewhere to my right, and a cloud of blood erupted from the front of both Urek's and Yandi's chests. They instantly collapsed onto the pavement like two bags of rocks. I immediately dropped to the ground next to our floater. There were two more flashes, and two projectiles passed through my floater and hit the pavement on either side of me. Ya know, I think the assassin's view was obstructed, and he must have been trying to hit me by shooting through the vehicle. All I could do was hope that he didn't split the difference between the shots." Dran was talking fast now.

"Within a couple minutes, Security reached us, ya know. The assassin must have fled because they couldn't find any suspects in the area. Yandi had died instantly, and Urek was barely alive. The med-floater arrived soon after Security, and Urek was loaded aboard and sent on his way to the hospital. When I last checked on him, he was still alive, but I don't think he will be for long."

"Do you think this happened because of our meeting this afternoon?" Paul was now up and pacing around the room nervously. He kept glancing out the window each time he walked past it.

"I don't know. We'll have to wait and see what Security finds out."

"Are you okay?"

"You mean aside from losing a close friend? Yes, I suppose so. I wasn't injured. My embassy has placed several guards around and inside my flat. I should be okay for now. Listen, I have to go; there are lots of people trying to talk to me right now."

Paul knew instinctively that the attack was a result of their collaboration with him. He had just lost two thirds of his supporters among the allies. The rest would now be so intimidated that they wouldn't want to be seen with him. His plans now depended exclusively on Dran. Paul also thought the investigation would probably say that the Horologii had tried to kill the three representatives to break up the Consortium--but Paul knew that Gibbon was behind it.

~

Gibbon had scheduled a closed meeting with just his cabinet for first thing the next morning. As usual, Paul was there early. He found it informative to arrive early; it gave him time to study the expressions on each of the members' faces as they entered the room. People usually didn't have their poker faces on until they were settled into their seats. Paul also found it interesting to see with whom they entered the room.

Soon Stephen Stimpson, Robert Holts, and Girk Vollunteire entered together and were seated in their respective chairs. George Saunders, Gibbon's representative in the Earth Assembly, and Hernst Caliper, the head of IEI, were also at the table. Hernst was a regular member of the cabinet but had been away on an errand for Gibbon for the last month. George was an experienced politician in his late sixties and, as one of the Assembly's most powerful members, was Gibbon's closest ally and the spearhead for Gibbon's initiatives there. George was large in both height and girth. His large, brown eyes were surmounted by bushy, brown eyebrows, which matched his graying brown hair. He had a straight nose and thin lips surrounding a wide mouth. George was like Admiral King during the 20th Century world war in that he was considered even-tempered, because he always seemed angry. George was very smart and always looking for an angle, which made him hard to talk to unless he wanted something from you. As a result, it was very hard for Paul to determine his mood and his objectives. In his late thirties, Hernst was much friendlier. Hernst's small features and brown skin made it difficult for Paul to interpret his expressions. In contrast to George, Hernst was very thin and tall and moved with an economy of motion that made Paul jealous. Like all members of his profession, Hernst kept everything very close to his chest, so he was very hard to get to know. They had some mutual friends that told Paul that, when he let his guard down, he had a great sense of humor and could be quite entertaining. Paul was sure that Hernst was the one that was in charge of tracking his movements and noting his contacts. Paul didn't like either man but had a good working relationship with both of them.

Gibbon entered the conference room, followed by his personal secretary. Janet seemed to always be within six feet of Gibbon, no matter where he went. There were bets as to whether she accompanied him into the men's bathroom. Paul was betting she did. Gibbon initiated the meeting as soon as he was seated.

"As I am sure you are all aware, there was an assassination attempt upon three of our allied Consortium representatives last night. One is dead, and another is in critical condition. As to the third, I saw Dran earlier, and he's apparently in good shape. The administration and Assembly have officially sent their condolences, and Janet is in the process of scheduling a memorial service. We have told the allies that we will do everything within our power to find out who initiated this despicable attack. I have recalled Hernst back from his assignment to take personal charge of the investigation."

"Now on to our other business. I have asked our leader in the Assembly to sit in on today's meeting, so that he can bring us up to date on what's happening in the Assembly? George, you've got the floor."

"Thank you, High Council Gibbon. Your popularity is still high in the Assembly and with the general public, but there seems to be some rumbling from those Assembly members opposed to your policies, primarily due to the continuing problems in Denebola and the attack on Van Maanen. I don't think it has coalesced enough to cause us any problem, but we should continue to watch them closely." George then brought the cabinet up to date on several legislative initiatives that Gibbon was backing.

When George had finished his twenty-minute summary, Gibbon said "Thank you, George." He turned to Holts. "Robert, bring us up to date on the military situation."

"The situation has not changed much since the last time I talked to you. We have weakened our strategic reserve to provide more protection to the allied planets. The Denebolan guerrilla activities are still giving us a lot of trouble, tying down troops that we need elsewhere. We did learn how the Horologii were able to attack without any warning; they found a way of neutralizing our sensors protecting the Van Maanen System. Luckily, those sensors were out-of-date, and we now have newer sensors in place around the other systems."

Paul quipped, "I wonder if the Maanenians knew the sensors protecting their system were outdated?"

The General ignored his comment. "We have also beefed up the security net with automated defenses to minimize the number of men required in the area. We had been working on these new defensives for a while, and they were ready to go on line. If the Horologii had waited another month, we might have been able to protect the Van Maanen system. In any case, despite the new defensives, we still have the same serious manpower problem that I had mentioned before the attack on Denebola. The acquisition of the system is pushing us to our limit."

Paul found it interesting that Robert was implying the military might not have been supportive of the attack on Denebola. This would be useful information to Gibbon's opponents in the Assembly and may even provide an opening to get some of the military leaders on Paul's side.

When General Holts had finished, it was Girk's turn to give the financial and resource status. "As with the military, we are stretched to the limit. The allies appear to be slowing down in their contributions to the war effort. They are beginning to husband their resources for their own protection, which is understandable, considering they're worried about being attacked."

Gibbon interrupted, "Paul, you tell those allies that they better get in line with the war or they'll regret it."

Paul responded, "I have told them. I think they will, though they're reluctant. The death of Urek won't help."

"Tell them we'll let the Horologii have them if they don't."

"I don't think that would help either us or them."

"Just do your Goddamn job."

"Yes, First Council."

Girk continued with his report on the financial situation. "It appears that we will be forced to increase taxes, both on Earth and in the allied systems, to pay for the military resources that have been destroyed and the overall losses in the Van Maanen system. I don't see any other way around the shortages. We had hoped to gain some infusion of resources from the Denebolan system, but the initial attack and subsequent fighting have pretty much destroyed anything of value."

George interjected, "An increase in taxes will not go over very well with the Earth Assembly. I think they expected more from the Denebolan attack."

Paul said, "The allies aren't going to like it either."

"Screw the allies. They'll do as they're told," Gibbon shouted. "I'm more worried about the Earth Assembly than the allies."

Paul replied, "Can I quote you on that?"

The meeting dragged on for another two hours. Paul listened with only half his attention; he was thinking of his next move. When Gibbon finally ended the meeting, Paul made sure that he and General Holts happened to end up together in the hall outside the conference room.

"Robert, I understand from your comments that you weren't too hot on making the attack on Denebola?"

"Oh, that's right—you weren't here for the discussions." Paul knew that Robert hadn't forgot that Paul wasn't at the meeting, but he wasn't sure why Robert said this, unless Robert was saying it wasn't his idea to leave Paul out. "Sorry, I thought Gibbon had filled you in. Well, yes, the military did not want to launch the attack on Denebola. We felt we didn't have the resources to hold it once we took it, which is proving to be the case. But Gibbon wanted the attack more for political reasons than military. As overall commander of the Consortium's military forces and with the backing of the Assembly, he ordered the attack. We had no choice but to execute our attack plan. The initial assault was less costly than we thought it would be. I guess we have you to thank for that." Robert's voice trailed off on the last sentence.

"Yeah, I guess you do."

"Though I still don't think it was right to attack during a peace negotiation, Paul. I guess that's diplomacy."

"Ambrose Bierce once said that diplomacy is the art of saying 'Nice doggie' until you can find a rock. Thanks for the info, Robert."

Paul split off and headed to his own office. Now Paul knew that Robert, and probably Girk, were not in on Gibbon's deception of Paul. That just left Stephen, whom Paul was sure knew of it in advance.

Back at his desk, Paul set up a meeting with assemblyman Roger Thelmater for later that day. During Paul's tenure on the cabinet, Roger had become very useful to Paul. He was considered to be one of Gibbon's supporters, but Paul knew Roger secretly passed information to Gibbon's opposition. Paul wasn't sure which side he philosophically supported, but, as far as Paul could tell, it was both. Roger was a perfect person to use as a way of passing information to the opposition without being considered a traitor to his own administration. Paul was sure that Hernst thought Roger was a mole, but because Hernst hadn't said anything to Paul, Paul could claim he was not aware of the deception. Anyway, Paul believed Gibbon himself probably used Roger as a conduit to the opposition.

Paul arrived at Roger's office in the Asimov Assembly Building at 1600 hours. Roger was there to meet him at the door and escort him in. Paul was always amazed by how small and cramped the Assembly offices were. There were papers on every flat surface, and it was so cluttered that Paul had trouble finding a place to sit.

"Don't you assemblymen have a maid or something? I'd throw myself out the window if this were my office."

"Gee thanks, Paul, that really cheers me up. This isn't the way to start a conversation if you're asking for a favor." Roger sat behind his desk, partially obscured by piles of documents. Roger was about Paul's age, but much heavier and slightly shorter. He had reddish blond hair on his head, eyebrows, upper lip, and chin. Paul always thought he looked like an overweight Viking.

"Sorry, I guess I thought I could speak frankly. I'll try not to hurt your sensitive feelings again."

"I'd appreciate that."

"Let me get right to the reason I needed to talk to you. You may have already heard that the Gibbon administration will be asking for an increase in the taxes."

"No, I had not heard. That won't go over very well."

"I know. We're going to have to handle this carefully or the opposition is going to beat us to death with it, especially in light of the poor military situation. I guess General Holts was right about the attack on Denebola being a bad idea."

"Yeah, I guess he was." Paul could tell that Roger was hearing this for the first time. He didn't think Gibbon would have let his people in the Assembly know of Robert's reservations. Paul figured that now both the opposition and Gibbon's supporters would be informed of this within 24 hours.

"Of course, we have to keep this among ourselves. It would only give ammunition to the opposition. The allies are giving us some problems also. They are worried about being left hanging by Gibbon. I assured them that is not the case. We are reinforcing their defenses, which should quiet them a little, but the increased taxes may add fuel to their fire. Gibbon will keep the allies in line; even it's by force. But I'm not worried yet, concerned maybe."

"Well, Gibbon is a strong leader and very popular. Did you come here just to tell me all of this?"

"No, I need your help on legislation that will help me handle the allies. There are some aid programs that I think we can use to build up support." Paul had been pushing this legislation for about two years, and, though it would actually help the allies, he was using it more to show the allies that Gibbon was trying to help them. Gibbon kept telling Paul and the press that he supported the legislation but would undercut it whenever he could with the Assembly. Paul knew that it would never pass, and he could live with that since it was a convenient excuse to talk to assemblymen about real topics. He had attained his main goal of passing information to the opposition that could be used against Gibbon's administration. Paul was also sure that some of Gibbon's supporters were not aware of the military's reluctance to attack the Denebolan System and would not be happy to find it out at this late. Hopefully, their constituents back at home won't like it either.

A little less than an hour after entering, Paul left Roger's office. He had come to the conclusion that he needed some R&R, or he was going to go crazy. He had called Cherie the day before, and she was available tonight. Paul hadn't seen her in almost four months, and, even though he had tried some of the female talent on Sirus V, he really missed Cherie. He was to pick her up at her house at 2000 hours, and he had made reservations at the LaRue in Georgetown. It was one of the most exclusive French restaurants in the whole area. It was very hard to get a reservation there on such short notice, but he was considered an important customer, plus the owner was a friend of his. After dinner, he would take Cherie to his house for the night. It meant that he was going to be very tired tomorrow, but it would be worth it. Paul thought that Cherie really liked him, but he was sure that all her clients thought the same thing. She had been pushing him to set up a regular weekly night for her, but his schedule kept him traveling so much, that setting anything up on a regular basis was almost impossible. Things will have to stay as they are; as Cherie liked to say "snatch as snatch can."

~

Paul was right. The next day he felt and looked like crap, but he did have a smile on his face. His secretary, Lee, recognized the symptoms immediately and, as Paul entered his office, made some snide comment he didn't hear. There was a message from Gibbon on his desk to call him ASAP, which he did. Janet passed the video call immediately through to Gibbon.

"You look like shit. What did ya do last night?" Gibbon said.

"Oh, I just had a friend over, and over again last night."

"Funny. We have a problem. The opposition in the Assembly has gotten wind of the tax increase. Did you tell anyone about it?"

"I might have mentioned it to Roger. After our meeting yesterday, I met with him to discuss our legislation on aid to the allies, but I'm sure he wouldn't have leaked it." Paul suppressed a smile.

Gibbon's brow furrowed for an instant and then relaxed. "Oh, well, they were going to find out anyway. The allies are screaming as well. George said that this may cost me."

"Tax increases are never popular. You're going to have to explain that it's needed for the war."

"We're already beginning to put that spin on it, but we had said that the attack on Denebola would help end the war, now we are asking for more money. Looks a little contradictory, but I'm sure my people can handle the flack. You need to handle the allies."

"I have the allies right where I want them."

"You'd better."

They continued to talk for about twenty more minutes, but the only thing that Paul got out of the rest of the conversation was that Gibbon seemed worried, which was both unusual and a good sign. Paul now had the two major pieces in place; both the Assembly and the Consortium now knew that Gibbon had deceived them. All he had to do was to let things stew and wait to put his plan into motion.

~

And stew it did. Over the last month of winter and through the spring, the war heated up. Horolog struck at the Ross System but was repelled with heavy losses by the new defense network and a quick reaction force put in place by the Consortium for just this type of attack. The Consortium managed to scrape enough forces together to make a very limited attack on one of the Horologian League's outer systems, but the effect was nothing more than a pinprick. The flurry of military activity then died down again and the war returned to the stalemate it had reached prior to the surprise attack on Denebola. The Denebolan system's subjugation continued to be a drain on the Consortium's limited resources. It was becoming equivalent to Napoleon's 19th century Spanish ulcer.

In early spring, Assemblyman Roger Thelmater was brought up on ethics charges and had to resign his office. Paul knew the charges were probably true. Apparently Roger was now considered more of a liability than an asset. Paul believed Gibbon had had this damning evidence on Roger and had kept it quiet until Gibbon had decided to get rid of him. Roger's resignation cut off Paul's access to the opposition, and Gibbon told Paul to talk only to George if he wanted something from the Assembly. Gibbon had not been happy that the opposition had found out military did not back the Denebolan attack and were now calling for an investigation.

With Roger gone, Paul would have to act through surrogates, people that Paul could trust but were not members of the Assembly or Administration. That proved to be very risky since Gibbon's spies had infiltrated both bodies, but it was essential that Paul keep communications open to the Assembly. They were an important part of his plan. The primary motivation of the Assembly members, whether Gibbon's backers or opposition, was to stay in power. Paul had to bring their self-interest in line with his objective of removing Gibbon from power. Dran still had some contacts in the Assembly that Paul could use.

His contact with the allies was intact as long as he could talk to Dran. Gibbon didn't like Dran and considered him a potential rival, but Paul's job depended on his talking to the allies, especially Dran. Paul knew that the allies did not like Gibbon and his demeaning attitude toward them, but before the war, they had benefited from their membership in the Consortium. Now with the war draining their resources, they doubly disliked Gibbon. They wanted the war over, one way or the other. Luckily, Urek had survived his wounds and would be rejoining the Council soon. Paul could use his help.

One interesting result of the assassination attempt was that Dran was now accompanied by at least three bodyguards at all times now, so his clandestine, romantic liaisons with Earthlings had to come to an end. He was not a happy diplomat.

~

During the lull in the fighting after the Consortium's limited attack, Paul made one of his appointments with Cherie. Paul was looking forward to seeing her since he had been under a lot of pressure lately. As the limo pulled up to the curb in front of her building, he was beginning to fantasize about what they would be doing later that night. Jack, Paul's bodyguard, circled around the limo to open Paul's door. As Paul exited the limo, he looked up to see Cherie smiling and waving at him from the front steps of the building. She had a short, sexy black dress on that showed all her exquisite curves. Paul smiled broadly and started to walk toward her. Suddenly, Paul felt Jack's iron grip on his arm. Jack violently threw him back into the limo and slammed the door. Almost simultaneously with the slamming of the door, there was an ear-shattering explosion precisely where Paul had stood only a fraction of a second earlier. The limo's side facing the explosion was caved in, and the limo was pushed sideways about five meters into the building across the street. The explosion failed to penetrate the limo's interior because of its reinforced shielding. The car was almost impenetrable by anything less than a direct photon missile strike.

Paul had sustained some slight cuts and bruises from his collisions with the limo's interior, and his ears were ringing, but he wasn't badly hurt. The doors wouldn't open, but he managed to kick out one of the damaged windows. He crawled out of the floater and ran over to Cherie who had been blown backwards by the blast. She was also not seriously injured as most of the blast was directed away from her. But Paul found very little of Jack, just a hand and a shoe with the foot still in it. The explosion had been extremely intense and concentrated into a very small blast radius. Jack had been within that radius; most of him vaporized.

Security Forces appeared within minutes of the blast. Paul explained to them what had happened, and they sealed off the area. When the med-floater arrived with a heavy military escort, he and Cherie were immediately loaded aboard. Paul talked to Cherie all the way to the hospital because he could tell she was close to hysterical. When they got to the emergency room, the doctors took Paul first, in spite of his protests. They treated his minor wounds and wanted to check him in for further observations, but he made it clear he was okay. He got to see Cherie before he left, but she had been sedated by then and wasn't very coherent. Even though she didn't have any injuries, the doctors wanted to keep her overnight because of her mental state.

The next day a man from Security dropped by to ask him more questions and to let him know what they had found out so far. The investigation had determined that the weapon was a JART, a small, powerful missile about the size of a fountain pen, which had to be launched by an individual from close range. JARTs were Horologian technology. Paul figured that Jack must have seen the assassin and, by throwing him back in the limo, was able to save Paul. The investigators never found who had made the attempt, though the Horologii were the prime suspects. Paul knew the Horologii hated him for the treachery at the negotiations, but Paul couldn't shake the feeling that Gibbon was behind the attempt. Maybe Gibbon had begun to suspect that Paul was behind the problems his administration was having. He had no proof, so there was little Paul could do about it.

~

As the war dragged on, continuing to consume resources with little to show for the expenditure, opposition to Gibbon grew in the Assembly. Even some of his strongest supporters were beginning to have their doubts about Gibbon's leadership. General Holts was called before the Assembly to testify as to his feelings about the war and the attack on Denebola. Robert did his best to support Gibbon, but he was basically an honest person. His testimony did not help Gibbon's case. More of Gibbon's staff were called to testify, and the investigation began to take on a life of its own. Paul kept feeding the opposition leads through a few trusted contacts while at the same time encouraging Gibbon to dig in his heels against the opposition in the Assembly. Somehow, Gibbon managed to stay above the fray and retain his power in the Assembly. As long as he could maintain his control of the Assembly he could retain his First Council job and all the power that that office bestowed.

At the same time, the allies were becoming more vociferous about Earth's leadership in general and Gibbon's in particular and threatened to withdraw their support from the war effort if some changes were not made. Paul met with Dran frequently, advising him to encourage the allies to keep the pressure on Gibbon without having the allies actually withdraw their support until he had the Assembly in line. Paul had to weaken Gibbon's control over the Assembly before the allies withdrew, or all his efforts would be in vain. They had made Gibbon the representative to the Council, and they would have to unmake him. The timing was crucial. Unfortunately, Paul's only direct contact with the Assembly was through George, and George was not going to do anything against Gibbon unless it was in his best interest. Paul was trying to find George's weak spot when his meticulously stacked house of cards fell in.

One mid-summer morning, when Paul got to his desk, he found a note saying that Gibbon wanted to see him right away. He immediately reported to Gibbon's office, and, as he entered, he saw Stephen and Hernst already seated in two of the office's chairs. Gibbon was behind his desk. Paul immediately had a very bad feeling. "First Council, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, Paul, I do. Have a seat." Gibbon seemed in a good mood, which made Paul even more uncomfortable. Paul sat in the only open seat, located between Hernst and Stephen, who both were smiling. Another bad sign.

"I asked you here because I have heard some disturbing things about you. I understand that you have been fomenting trouble in the allied ranks, mainly through Dran. And you have been passing information to the opposition. Luckily for me, one of your contacts is my man. He has been kind enough to let me read your communications. We have managed to locate all your other contacts and will be making sure they are no longer a problem to us." Paul did not know what that meant exactly, but it sounded ominous. He wondered which surrogate had turned on him.

"Regrettably, I can't do much to Dran. He's too heavily guarded and his home world doesn't seem to have a high opinion of me, to put it lightly. But I have asked General Holts to redeploy the army units guarding the Lalande System to more important areas. I also made sure that the Lalandian government knew this and why. Of course, they will protest, and I'm sure the Council will give it due consideration, if not necessarily fast consideration."

"You'd put billions of people at risk, your own allies, just to get one man removed?" Paul interrupted.

"I'm thinking of what is best for the Consortium. It just so happens it corresponds nicely with what's best for me. Now please don't interrupt. I'm building momentum here. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Once Dran's off the Council, you won't have any influence with the allies. They don't trust you, which seems to be a common theme. See, I don't either. I was hoping the Horologii would boil you in oil when we hit the Denebolan system, but you lucked out. I guess you had to be 'diplomatic.' I didn't want to cut you loose because I needed to know whom you would turn to for support and maybe to use against me. I guess I've found out."

Stephen spoke up, "I told you we'd be watching you. I knew you would screw up. Now we've got you by the balls, and you know it. I bet we could bring you up on charges of treason and have it stick. You'd be disgraced and dead in a month." He laughed loudly.

Paul was stunned and momentarily speechless. Not because Gibbon didn't trust him--he'd known that. But how did Gibbon know so much about what Paul had been doing? Only Dran knew this much about his activities. But the leak couldn't be Dran; Gibbon had just said he wanted Dran out. Paul's mind whirred. He knew Stephen was right that they could trump up some charges about his being a traitor and make it stick, especially with respect to his advice to the allies. Even though he was considered something of a hero, his credibility with the public was paper-thin. He knew he was screwed.

Gibbon resumed, "In spite of the fact that we have been tracking you carefully, as I'm sure you are aware, you have still managed to do some damage. It was pretty smart the way you let the opposition know that General Holts was against the attack on Denebola. Now I'm having to justify all my actions to the Assembly, and that's a pain in the butt. I couldn't get Robert to lie for me. If he wasn't so good, I'd have dumped him a long time ago. Where's the loyalty?"

"Yeah, how dare he tell the truth?" Paul sarcastically quipped, having recovered his composure. Now that the gig was up, he didn't have to hold anything back. "I guess now's not the time to ask for a raise?"

"Shut up, Paul! Now what am I going to do with you? Ironically, I would like for you to stay on my staff." Paul saw Stephen almost choke and Hernst's ever-present smile slightly diminish.

"Thanks, First Council, but I have other plans."

"Oh, I think you'll like my offer. You stay with my staff, and you only talk to people that I have approved, and you do it with your new assistant, Jeff Holworth. Oh yeah, and lose the scrambler. This way it looks like you're still supporting my policies, and I get to keep a hero on my staff. In exchange, we don't have you executed as a traitor, and, especially, you get to keep your precious reputation. Whadaya say to that?"

"Do I keep my health benefits?" Paul knew Jeff as a sycophant of Gibbon and not someone that Paul could manipulate. He would be totally isolated if he stayed.

"Don't be a wise ass. I assume you accept?"

"I accept." Paul knew he had little choice for now, but the game was not over. "Can I go now?"

"Feel free to leave." Gibbon chortled.

Paul rose from the chair, and, no matter how high he held his head as he left the room, he knew his tail was between his legs. He had thought he had been so clever, and here Gibbon had tracked his every move.

After what seemed like a very long walk, Paul entered his outer office and saw Jeff sitting on the couch waiting for him. He looked over at Lee who was seated at her desk with a large frown on her face. Lee said in a monotone, "Mr. Holworth has been waiting to see you."

Jeff stood up and stuck out his hand, "Nice to meet you again Mr. McKenzie."

Paul shook his hand, "Likewise. Looks like we will be working together. Lee, please find an office for Mr. Holworth close to mine."

"Yes, sir."

"It's an honor to work with you," Jeff volunteered smiling.

Paul thought, _At least it is for one of us._

Jeff became his shadow from that day forward. He was always in the room, somewhere, when he met with anyone. Jeff was just another layer of irritation. Paul knew that all his communications were being bugged and his actions watched by the IEI, but there was a leak in his inner circle that was allowing his actions to be negated. He would have to find a more secure method of communicating that could not be compromised. He had to plug the flow of information about his activities to Gibbon. He knew there could only be a very few people that would be privy to the information that Gibbon was getting, especially if Dran was not the source of the leak. He contacted a close friend of his that was very good at investigating this type of situation without others knowing he was investigating them. He did it by passing a hand-written message clandestinely to Dran during one of their meetings, which he then passed to Paul's friend. Paul would have to settle up with his friend when things were back to normal.

~

It took Paul about two weeks to figure out how to get messages out to his contacts without Gibbon finding out. The key was Cherie. Her building was in a block that was surrounded by a scrambler network that the IEI would find hard to break, probably because some of the IEI employees who frequented the block had installed it. Service providers of every sex, Earthling and alien, resided in the buildings of that block. Because a number of customers were members of governments, the precaution of the network was very important.

Paul talked to Cherie about passing messages to Dran through his meetings with her. She had had visits from Dran in the past, which Paul did not like very much, but he would have to get over his jealousy to make this work. Now she would have to meet with Dran, as well as Paul, on a regular basis. Since Dran was always accompanied by heavy security, Cherie arranged to have it appear that Dran was visiting a Lalandian girl on his visits to her apartment. Regular visits to Cherie had become pretty much the case for Paul anyway since his job did not take him out the city the way it used to do. The only thing that really bothered Paul was that, if Cherie was working for Gibbon, he would be dead, not just careerwise but literally. He would have his investigative friend check her out as well just to make sure she was really on his side.

The main thing that Paul wanted to pass on to Dran was what he believed to be the best move for the allies at this point. The festering wound in the Denebolan system had drained a considerable amount of Earth's forces from the main army. The military contributions of the allies had become the major component in the maintenance of the Consortium's military forces. Dran and the other allies were not aware of how much Earth's power had been weakened by the continuous guerrilla warfare and the hit-and-run tactics of the Horologii. Gibbon and the military leaders had managed to keep that information from the allies. Paul let them know that they now had a very good card to play to force Earth to end the war. Paul suggested that the allies prepare to withdraw from the Consortium and, if necessary, go it alone with the Lalandian System taking the lead. Paul knew that the allies could not stand up to the Horologii alone indefinitely, but, if they restricted their forces to protecting their home systems and a few valuable assets, they could hold out for a considerable period of time. Earth, on the other hand, had expanded into dozens of systems and would be stretched to the breaking point if forced to defend all of its territory alone. Of course, Earth could give up its territories and use its forces to defend only its home system, but that would mean the end of Earth's power and prosperity. It would be political suicide for Gibbon. Paul knew that Gibbon would be forced into a corner.

It took a month and several visits to Cherie's place to work out all the details. As the position of the allies became clearer, it became very important for Paul to talk to Assemblyman George alone. He needed to bring the Assembly into the equation before the allies made their move. Paul arranged an appointment with George in his Assembly office. It was essential that the meeting happen there.

It was becoming obvious to Paul that Gibbon's own staff was beginning to turn against him, or at least become more neutral, as things got worse. More of Gibbon's staff were called to testify before the Assembly, and the investigation began to take on a witch-hunt aspect, as Gibbon's supporters ducked for cover. General Holts and Girk remained on the staff but were beginning to have the look of deers caught in floater lights. Paul would commiserate with them whenever he could, but he couldn't really let them know of his behind-the-scenes activities. In fact, they seemed to feel just as sorry for Paul; they knew Gibbon had him on a very short leash.

~

Before he could meet with George, Paul's outside investigator came back with his report. Seated at his desk, Paul read the report. As he did so, the space between his eyebrows slowly narrowed and his jaw dropped. The report detailed how Paul's secretary Lee was passing information to Gibbon. Paul was stunned and saddened by the news, and, since Lee had been with him for almost ten years, he was initially reluctant to believe the report, but it was clear that it was true. Apparently, Gibbon had blackmailed Lee by threatening to have her brother, who was a sergeant in the military, sent to a hot area in the Denebolan system. Paul was sure that Gibbon would have been hard pressed to carry out his threat, but Lee wouldn't have known that. Paul was disappointed that she had not come to him for help, but, considering Paul's declining influence, maybe she thought he no longer had the power to do much. Regardless, Paul had her reassigned to a different department without explanation and hand-picked a new secretary from a pool of new hires. There was no guarantee she was trustworthy either, but Paul doubted Gibbon would have had time to influence all the new hires so quickly. Anyway, Paul would be much more careful about what information went through his new secretary. The fact that Rosanne was very attractive was a nice compensation for his lack of trust in her.

~

When Paul entered George's office the following day, he was accompanied by Jeff. The office was very tastefully done with early twenty-first century furniture. Paul liked the style and actually felt at home in the lair of this close ally of Gibbon. George came out from behind his desk to shake hands and show them to two chairs around a small table in the corner. George sat directly across from Paul.

"So, what can I do for you, Paul?"

"I needed to talk to you about some issues that have come up with respect to the war, but this is very hush-hush." Paul turned and looked directly at Jeff as he said this and then turned his gaze back to George.

George turned to Jeff, "Jeff, could please excuse us?"

Jeff sputtered, "I believe I should stay here. You know I have Gibbon's authority."

"I do know that, but I have the authority of the Assembly, and, in that capacity, I can have a private conversation with anyone I so desire. Should I call Security?"

Jeff sat there dumbfounded and started to talk, but only managed to stutter something unintelligible. The expression on his face changed to that of anger then resignation as he realized that he couldn't win this argument. Jeff rose from his seat in an exaggerated motion and walked out of the office.

George turned to Paul. "I figure we have about three minutes before my communicator starts going off. I understand you are persona non grata in the administration. So what did you want to say to me?"

"I wanted to let you know that Gibbon is going to be out of power very soon and, if you want your faction to remain in control, you had better begin thinking about an alternative."

"You realize that if I told Gibbon what you just said he would have you arrested?"

"I know that, but having me arrested wouldn't do _you_ any good. There is going to be a major shift in the Consortium's military forces, and you need to be positioned to take full advantage of the situation."

A worried look flitted across George's face. "I'm not sure what you are talking about."

Paul knew that, if Gibbon's influence with the Assembly had not been waning, George would not have continued the conversation this long. He must have already been thinking of other plans. Paul continued, "Your faction has to dump Gibbon and back another candidate that would be able to patch up the Consortium and negotiate peace with the Horologii."

"Sounds defeatist to me. Why would we want to do this?"

"You know we aren't winning the war."

"We aren't losing it either."

"True, but is that what you want, a long stalemate that drains our resources? I don't see that as helping anyone. And what about the allies?"

"I have to admit that the Assembly has been very upset with Gibbon's actions, and the opposition has been tearing us a new one because of it. The war has become very unpopular. What exactly are you suggesting?"

"You need to be ready to remove Gibbon and replace him with someone who will not only try to end the war peacefully but also give your faction the credit for ending it."

George smiled, "Who do you have in mind for the replacement? How do we know this replacement would be willing to give the credit to our faction?"

"I will leave the replacement up to you. It has to be someone who is aware of all the different twists and turns that are in process and is acceptable to both factions. As to your second question, I'm sure you'll pick someone who'll do what you want."

"Like you?" George's communicator was now signaling an incoming call. They both knew it was Gibbon. "How will I know when the time is right?"

"Oh, you'll know."

"Interesting idea. Let me think it over."

"Okay, I'd better leave before we both end up in the river." Paul could not tell if he had influenced George, but he knew George was an astute politician who had no desire to lose power. If he stayed with Gibbon and Gibbon went down, George and his faction would too. If nothing else, they had to be thinking about an exit strategy. Paul had just given them one.

As soon as Paul got back to the administration building, Gibbon called him to his office wanting to know exactly what he'd said to George. Prepared for Gibbon's questions, Paul explained that he and George had been discussing pending legislation. Gibbon didn't believe him but couldn't get Paul to budge from his story. Paul could tell that Gibbon was extremely angry with him and thought he would be dismissed. But, Gibbon just gave Paul a chewing out and shortened his leash even more. Paul now wasn't allowed to talk to any member of the Assembly, period. He had to refer them to Jeff, who would respond to any inquiries. Paul knew this wasn't going to go over very well; Jeff didn't really know that much about what Paul did. But by this point, Paul didn't really care. The important thing was that he'd gotten his message across to George—even if it wasn't necessarily accepted.

~

As another month passed, Paul began to feel powerless in a position that was considered to be one of the most powerful in the administration. The only real outlet he had was with Cherie and even that contact was cut back due to Gibbon's suspicions. Fortunately, Gibbon wasn't suspicious enough to end his meetings with Cherie entirely. Through her, Paul continued to coordinate his plans with the allies.

On the agreed day of September 26th, Dran had called a press conference just outside the Council building. All the major press outlets were gathered in a semi-circle around a podium. Paul was in his office watching the conference in real time on his desk viewer and could tell the press were puzzled by the short-notice press conference. Dran was not known for talking to the press, and they were thinking that this must be important for Dran to make a public address. At 1000 hours precisely, Dran walked out of the building and up to the podium. Dran was very well dressed in a stylish, modern-styled suit and look calm and expressionless. Paul could tell he was a little nervous by the fact that Dran was calm and expressionless. Dran tapped on the podium to signal that he was ready to talk, and the buzz in the gathered reporters quickly died down.

Dran cleared his throat and said, "It is the unanimous decision of all the members of the Consortium, excluding Earth, to withdraw their financial and military support for the current hostilities against the Horologii. We will independently try to negotiate with the Horologii for an armistice. This decision is final and effective immediately. We hold no animosity toward Earth and wish her the best in her continuing struggle. The member states of the Consortium have decided to take this path in order to protect the security of our respective worlds. I will not take questions." He turned sharply and walked back into the building. As he did so, the stunned silence was suddenly broken by the cacophony of the reporters yelling questions.

The effect was immediate and explosive. Within hours, Gibbon's administration imploded, and Paul was at the epicenter of all of it. He was questioned by Gibbon and the press about his knowledge of the allies' actions. It took all of his considerable diplomatic skills to convince Gibbon's administration that Dran's announcement was a complete surprise to him. The fact that Gibbon had had Paul under constant surveillance for the past 12 months also worked in his favor; IEI couldn't find any evidence of Paul talking with allied representatives about their planned withdrawal. Paul knew they would figure out the connection with Cherie eventually, but he was confident it would take a while. In the meantime, the pressure on Gibbon was intense. Paul did his best to insulate himself from the political fallout that began to strike Gibbon; but his hero status was taking some hits. Paul knew that this announcement at a time when the Gibbon's support was at a nadir should be enough to topple him from power.

~

Paul also knew Gibbon was fed up with him; his time in Gibbon's administration was clearly at an end. So it came as quite a surprise when Gibbon asked him to accompany him on Tuesday of the following week, October 2nd, to the christening of a new warship at a large spaceship yard near the capital. It was a "support the troops and rally the base" type of event. Paul was very conflicted as to what to do about the invitation. He didn't want to accompany Gibbon to such a public function because Paul's appearance could be construed as supporting Gibbon and may be used against him should Gibbon fall from power. But, if he said no, he may be tipping his hand and confirming Gibbon's suspicions. Plus, Paul still had enough ego to enjoy public speaking and the acclaim that it brought. Even though Paul knew Gibbon's people would control the audience and the media, he thought he could still give a speech that would be ambiguous enough to sound patriotic without specifically supporting the administration's policies. This wouldn't be the first time that Paul had made a bad decision based on his ego.

The following day Paul rode with Gibbon in his official limo to the shipyard. Gibbon seemed to be in a good mood and made small talk with their fellow passengers, including Paul. Considering the trouble Gibbon was having, Paul was surprised by his upbeat mood.

When they arrived, they were escorted to a platform where a communications system was already set up. The dignitaries, who were there to give speeches, introductions, or just be seen, consisted of other members of the administration, Assembly members, labor leaders, and prominent supporters of the war. Most of these were already seated on the platform when Gibbon's group arrived. The crowd, composed of mostly workers from the shipyards and some army units from a nearby base, was very responsive, clapping and cheering periodically. This was not surprising; the worker's jobs relied heavily on government purchases, so they tended to be pro-administration—at least as long as the orders kept coming. Paul's speech was well received, probably more for it's brevity than its rhetorically excellence. Paul was half asleep by the time Gibbon finished his final presentation. As the crowd began to break up and the speakers were heading back to their transportation, Gibbon walked up to Paul. "Nice speech. What did ya think of mine?"

"I thought it was very optimistic and upbeat."

"I hope that's not a criticism?"

"It's not. Overall I thought all the speakers did a good job. Everyone managed to avoid talking about the war in spite of the fact we were launching a starship."

Gibbon made a soft guttural sound that could have been a laugh or a disgusted grunt and turned away to talk to someone to his right. A number of Paul's friends had come to the event and came up to greet him.

Paul spent about a half hour talking to his friends and to a couple reporters. When he turned to check with Gibbon on when they had to leave, he couldn't spot him on the speaker's platform and expanded his search into the area behind the platform where the limos were parked. He spotted Gibbon approaching the limo with his security detail. Paul was surprised that Gibbon hadn't told him that they would be leaving. Paul thought Gibbon was going to leave without him, Paul smiled to himself. He knew Gibbon could be petty, but that was beneath him.

Paul watched Gibbon walk over to the limo, a good 100 meters away from the platform. When Gibbon got to the door he made no effort to open it; instead he turned around and located Paul on the platform. Gibbon locked eyes with Paul, and a mischievous, half smile spread across his face. An electrical shock raced through Paul's body. Paul knew that something was very, very wrong, and he was immediately terrified. Without knowing why, as if by feel, Paul turned to his left and saw the blue flame of a JART headed in his direction. He was frozen to the spot, like a frog in a flashlight's beam, and it seemed as if time had slowed down. Many thoughts became jumbled in his head as he realized that the last thing he would ever see would be the blast of this missile. Oddly, his fear was replaced by a great sense of regret. As he watched the JART get closer, Paul began to realize that the missile was heading slightly to his right. He watched in fixed fascination as it passed within two meters of where he was standing. As he started breathing again, Paul suddenly wondered, if he wasn't the target, who was? He turned to look directly at Gibbon. Gibbon's smile melted as the missile passed Paul, and his expression passed quickly to one of surprise. He turned to reach for the door of the limo, but it was too late. The impact point of the missile was right at Gibbon's feet.

In the next micro-seconds, the blast obliterated Gibbon and two of the security men next to him, hurling the limo backward a good twenty meters. The blast wave hit Paul and scores of other people in the area, knocking them off their feet. Paul lay on his back for a few moments, then swiftly rolled over onto his hands and knees and began vomiting.

After that, events got blurry. Paul remembered being grabbed by his security team and half dragged, half carried to a security car. He was whisked away to a nearby military hospital to be checked out. Aside from a minor cut on his forehead and the shock, he was fine. He was released later that day with an expanded security detail and returned home.

It wasn't until he got back to his office the next morning that he really began to think about what had happened. There was no doubt in his mind that Gibbon believed Paul was to be the target of the assassination, but someone had double-crossed Gibbon and saved Paul. For an assassin to get that close to the speakers' platform, there had to have been a huge breach in security; no doubt allowed by Gibbon. Paul knew the way Gibbon thought. Gibbon had wanted to provide a martyr to the cause, draw attention away from himself, and get rid of a thorn in his side at the same time. But whomever he worked with to set this up must have decided that getting rid of Gibbon would be the better option. But who?

The news on the assassination reported that the killer had been found almost immediately and killed. He had connections to the Horologii, and officially they were believed to be behind the assassination. Paul knew that wasn't true, but he could never prove it—nor would he want to.

~

The days following Gibbon's assassination were hectic as the Assembly, Consortium, and Council tried to sort things out without a leader. A state funeral was being arranged for Gibbon, and flags were to be set at half-mast for a month. Two days after Gibbon's death, Paul got a call from George Saunders informing him that his name had been submitted to the Assembly as the interim replacement for Gibbon. Paul was surprised by the appointment in spite of the fact that he considered himself the logical choice, but he had gotten used to his judgment being wrong. His status as a hero, though heavily tarnished, didn't hurt. It was nice to see that he had the backing of George and his faction. The quickness of the appointment supported Paul's belief that Gibbon's assassination had been arranged by his own faction in the Assembly. Gibbon made a much better martyr than a disgraced politician.

Paul called for a meeting of the Council the day after his appointment. He also went to Gibbon's office and began accessing all data on the present situation of the government and the military. He had to bring himself up to date on what had been happening in the war since he had been shut out of the loop; it proved to be very interesting.

~

Early the next morning, just after Paul had dictated a letter to be sent to Stephen Stimpson stating that his services were no longer needed anywhere in the government, General Robert Holts entered his office looking winded and excited.

"The Horologii have made a major attack on the Grottering system," he said quickly.

Paul knew that the system was one of the smaller satellite systems that Earth controlled. It was not considered very strategic. "Why would they attack us there?"

"I think they saw it as an easy target, and I think they coordinated the attack with their assassination of Gibbon."

Paul knew that was not true, but the Horologii may have moved up their attack to take advantage of Gibbon's death and the subsequent confusion.

Holts continued, "In any case, we had been monitoring their communications traffic for quite a while, and we knew they were planning to move in that area. So, we laid a trap for them. We hid a number of automated defenses in the system and stationed a large portion of our fleet nearby. When the Horologii attacked, the defenses caught them by surprise and did considerable damage. We then hit them with the fleet as they tried to retreat. We wiped out almost the whole Horologian fleet with minimal loss to us. It is a great victory."

Paul was stunned by the news. "How great a victory?"

"It may actually end the war in our favor. At the very least, it should bring the Horologii to the peace table."

"That's wonderful news."

"Too bad Gibbon didn't live long enough to see it."

"Yeah, too bad," Paul replied without expression. "Listen we have to head to the Council meeting. You'll have to brief them on this."

~

By the time the General and Paul arrived at the Council conference room, all the members were seated and talking excitedly. Holts took his usual seat, and Paul took Gibbon's seat as head of the Council. He had had the platform under the seat removed earlier, so when he began the meeting, he spoke from the same level as the rest of the council members seated around the table.

"Hello, everyone. All of you are already aware that I've been appointed as Gibbon's interim replacement on the Council, and, as such, I will function as the temporary head of this Council. This morning we have received amazing news about war; I'd like General Holts to bring you up to date."

Holts began his synopsis of the victory at the Grottering system and went into much greater detail than he had with Paul. He diplomatically emphasized the contributions of the allies in the victory, which had not had time to withdraw their contingents, and stated that the venture would not have been possible without the support of the Allies. When he finished, the members were noticeably elated and all trying to ask questions simultaneously. It was a full hour before the questioning and discussions had died down enough for Paul to be able to move on to other actions. He suggested sending a peace feeler to Horolog and was supported unanimously by the Council members.

~

Things moved quickly over the next few months. The Assembly approved Paul as Earth's permanent representative to the Consortium Council, but he then stunned them by recommending Dran as the First Consul. This move was overwhelmingly approved by the Council. The Horologii welcomed the peace feelers, and negotiations began almost immediately. This time the peace agreement would be approved by both sides and be upheld by all parties. In fact, within twenty years, Horolog would join the Consortium. The Horologii continued to hate Paul and actually tried to have him assassinated a few more times, without success. Paul decided being on the Council was not a very healthy place to be, considering that the Assembly most likely killed their last appointee and that the Horologii still wanted him dead. Instead, Paul retired after a year in office and became the man to consult on matters of diplomacy. When asked to give the main speech at the unveiling of a statue to First Consul Gibbon years later, Paul found it very hard to speak while biting his tongue.

