“Thank you.”
“Madam President, I have news,” Singh said, flicking a document from his monitor at her. The
hand terminal in her pocket chimed. “And it will be good news or bad news, depending on how seriously you take your job, and how much you like doing actual work. You may read that later, to get all the details.”
She’d started to take the terminal out of her pocket, but slid it back in at his words. “I take my job very seriously.”
“Excellent, because it seems you used to have a title that held no actual power, except that you presided over the Association of Worlds in their meetings here. Which is a body that negotiates interplanetary laws it has absolutely no ability to enforce. Earth and Mars haven’t formally joined your coalition, and the Transport Union has been in a position to dictate terms in all your agreements. Or so I am led to understand. My access to the newsfeeds has been limited.” He tried for a self-deprecating smile, and thought he probably got about three-quarters of the way there.
“It’s a start,” Fisk said, the frown returning to her face. “At least we have people here talking out their problems, rather than immediately reaching for a gun.”
“I agree,” Singh said. “And more importantly, so does High Consul Duarte. The document I just sent you empowers the Association of Worlds to make laws that will have binding authority on the member systems, which now includes every human colony. You, as president of that body, will be granted a variety of legislative powers to aid in that cause.”
“And who is granting us this new power?” Fisk asked. Her face had twisted up like he’d asked her to eat something distasteful. She knew the answer to his question, but she wanted him to say it so that she could begin her counterargument. A counterargument Singh had no interest in entertaining.
“High Consul Winston Duarte, who is now the supreme executive authority of the Association of Worlds and all subsidiary governments. All edicts passed by this body that are not vetoed by executive power will have the force of law, backed by the military power of Laconia.”
“I don’t know if—”
“Madam President,” Singh said, leaning forward and waiting until her attention was fully on him before he continued. “I advise you to take this very seriously. The high consul wants a fully functioning legislature and bureaucracy, and believes that the existing one, with some modification of course, fits the bill. I strongly advise that you not give him a reason to think it’s better to tear this down and build something new in its place. Do we understand each other?”
Fisk nodded. Her hands were fidgeting in her lap again.
“Excellent,” Singh said. He stood up and extended his hand. Fisk stood and took it. “I look forward to working with you as High Consul Duarte’s representative. We have much to do, but I believe it will be exciting and rewarding work.”
Singh released her hand and gave a small bow.
“What comes next?” Fisk asked.
“I would recommend you begin by familiarizing yourself with the document I sent you. It contains all the provisional rules for the Association Legislature, until such time as more permanent protocols can be voted into place.”
“Okay,” Fisk said.
“I know you will be quite busy,” Singh told her, gently guiding her past his Marine guards and over to the door. “But I look forward to our next meeting.”
Once she’d left, he let out a long sigh and leaned against the wall.
“One more, Lieutenant, then we can break for lunch,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Kasik said. “Next is Onni Langstiver, head of station security for Medina.”
Singh smiled a little, thinking how Tanaka would have reacted to hearing that title. “Former head of security,” he said as he returned to his desk. “Give me a moment. Let him wait.”
“Yes, sir,” Kasik said. “Can I get you anything in the meantime? Water? Coffee?”
“The water here tastes like old piss, and the coffee tastes like old piss run through a gym sock,” Singh said. “The recycling systems on this station are decades out of date and badly maintained.”
“Yes, sir,” Kasik replied. “I can have water brought from the Storm for you.”
“Or,” Singh said, turning to his aide, “we can go about actually fixing the problems here.”
“Yes, sir,” Kasik said, bobbing his head. If Singh hadn’t been tired already and irritable, he would have let it sit there. But the constant pushing back from his own people and the natives of Medina had scratched him enough to raise welts, and he couldn’t quite rein himself in.
“If the posting here becomes permanent,” he said, “and there is no reason to think it won’t, I will be bringing my family to this station. I won’t have my daughter drinking badly recycled water, breathing badly filtered air, and attending badly run schools.”
Kasik had found a bottle of water from somewhere, and was pouring it into the coffee machine.
“Yes, sir,” he said, like it had become an autonomic reaction.