The Iron Maiden (25 page)

“I am in a position to know that a plan is afoot to kidnap Hope Hubris,” Reba said carefully. “To destroy his credibility as a candidate for the presidency.”

News indeed! Trust QYV to be the first to fathom Tocsin's mischief.

“This is not a plot to keep secret,” Thorley remarked. “I differ with Candidate Hubris on numerous and sundry issues, but I do not endorse foul play.”

“Some secrets must be kept until they can be proven,” Reba said. “If this is published now the plot will fold without trace, and an alternate one invoked--one I may not be in a position to fathom in advance.”

“Ah, now I see,” Thorley said. “This fish you have hooked but not necessarily others. From this one the candidate may be protected, if the perpetrator does not realize that the subject knows.”

“Exactly,” she agreed. “The perpetrator is playing for high stakes and will not stop at murder as a last resort.”

“Yet surely the Secret Service protection--”

“Could not stop a city-destroying bolt from space.”

Thorley glanced at her shrewdly. “Certain mischief has been done, and hidden, the details accessible only to the president. Revelation of that mischief could put a number of rather high officials in prison and utterly destroy certain careers.”

“You seem to grasp the situation,” Reba agreed.

“And it seems that the details of that hidden mischief could no longer be concealed, if a new and opposing person assumed the presidential office at this time.”

Reba nodded. “That office will not be yielded gracefully, regardless of the outcome of an election.”

Thorley smiled. “Perhaps you assume that one conservative must necessarily support another. This is not the case. Some support issues, not men, and their private feelings may reflect some seeming inversions. I might even venture to imply that there could be some liberals I would prefer on a personal basis to some conservatives. Strictly off the record, of course.” He smiled again, and so did Spirit. Thorley was an honest man, with a sense of humor and a rigorous conscience.

“Then you will withhold your pen?” Reba asked. She of course knew about his affair with Spirit.

“In the interest of fairness--and a better eventual story--I am prepared to do more than that. I prefer to see to the excision of iniquity, branch and root, wherever it occurs.”

“Then perhaps you will be interested in one particular detail of the plot,” she said grimly. "Candidate Hubris is to receive a message, purportedly from you, advising him that you have urgent news that you must impart to him secretly, in person, without the presence of any other party. When he slips his SS

security net and goes to meet you, he will be captured by the agents of the plotters, taken off-planet, mem-washed, addicted to a potent drug, sexually compromised, reeducated, and returned to his campaign on the eve of the election armed with a speech of such nonsense as to discredit him as a potential president. He will be finished politically."

Thorley blew out his cheeks as if airing a mouthful of hot pepper. "This abruptly becomes more personal.

As it happens, I have no need to summon the candidate to any private encounter; I have another contact."

“So you have said,” Reba agreed, glancing at Spirit, who smiled. “I know that Hope Hubris would not fall for such a scheme. But it occurred to me that, considering the alternative--”

Now Hope caught her drift. “That I might choose to!”

“Choose to!” Thorley exclaimed, horrified.

“Hope Hubris is immune to drug addiction,” Reba said. “His system apparently forms antibodies against any mind-affecting agent. His memory will return far more rapidly than is normal, and he soon will throw off the addiction to the drug. Which means--”

“That the attempt is apt to backfire,” Thorley finished.

“Particularly if the candidate is forewarned and properly prepared,” she agreed.

“And we would finally establish our direct link to the guilty party,” Hope said. “Which would at last put him out of commission. No fifty-fifty gambling on the election; no waiting for a bolt from space. At one stroke, victory!”

It was hardly that simple, of course, and by no means safe, but they made the plan. In due course Hope Hubris, falling for an urgent counterfeit message, disappeared.

Tyrant

The following two months were especially difficult, because not only did Spirit have to coordinate the campaign, she had to cover for Hope's absence. Because of course they were not about to admit that the campaign had lost its candidate. That would simply wash Hope out of the running and probably get him killed. They had received a terse note from an anonymous source saying that Hope Hubris was safe and well cared for, and would be returned to them in due course, provided they did not go public. He was being held hostage for their good behavior. So like any baffled organization, they covered up, hoping for the best.

They put out word that Hope was working very hard on a special project and was unable to campaign at the moment. Spirit took his place for existing engagements, and while she did not have Hope's flair for audience rapport, she did increasingly well. The staff did its part. Shelia maintained an effective wall, saying that she could not interrupt the candidate for anything. Coral, largely recovered from her injury, reported regularly to Hope's private office on the campaign train and guarded it physically from intrusion.

Ebony ran constant errands to and from that office, never letting slip exactly what business she was on.

Even Thorley participated in his fashion, marveling in print what business could keep a candidate too preoccupied to campaign. “One must conjecture that it is of transcendent importance. Could he even be reconsidering the validity of liberalism itself? That were an end devoutly to be wished.”

Hope was not returned until the eve of the election. He looked well, but somewhat vague; obviously he had been drugged for transport and was still coming out of it. A man stood close at his elbow, obviously an enemy guard to make sure he did not bolt or deviate from his script. Hope winced as if suffering a moment of pain, and that gave a hint: There was a valise there that surely contained a pain box. Spirit remained well clear, waiting for her people to scout the hall and identify every enemy agent. They needed to know all the enemy's tricks before nullifying them.

How much did Hope remember? He had been prepared for the mem-wash, and had marvelous powers of recuperation, but had they been enough? Hope looked around--and Spirit saw a small flash of recognition in his face. He had spied Thorley, who was in the press section. That meant he knew that Spirit's people were present. But they would have to nullify that pain box and that guard before they could do much else.

But they were not given time to neutralize anything. The broadcast light came on, and Hope had to start his speech, reading from the script before him. He spoke, describing a series of reform initiatives that aligned with what he had always supported. So far so good, but that could hardly be the whole story; there had to be a kicker coming later in the speech. Still, that gave Spirit's crew the time it needed to do its job. They had been prepared, and operated efficiently to neutralize the enemy agents. All except the one on stage with Hope. She signaled Thorley, who in turn gave Hope a cautious thumbs-up sign. Would Hope understand its full import?

“Now, I have been making promises,” Hope said. “I realize that some of you are doubtful. You don't believe I can or will fulfill these promises as president. I would like to reassure you specifically.” He glanced about again. “I see that some of my most effective critics are in attendance. You, sir--” He pointed at Thorley. “Do you doubt?”

Thorley smiled with that relaxed-tiger way he had. “I confess I do, Candidate.”

“Well, I shall refute your doubt!” Hope declaimed. “Come up here if you have the nerve! Debate me face-to-face, and I shall destroy your silly points!”

Yes! He had caught on that he needed to get Thorley close enough to nullify the pain box.

The others in the small audience smiled now; this was more like his old form. “You are a glutton for punishment, my liberal Candidate,” Thorley responded, rising huffily. “I came here ostensibly to report the event; however--”

“Report the event!” Hope exclaimed indignantly. “When did you ever do that, you sly provocateur? You have been sniping at me from the safety of your wretched column for years.” He was playing his scene.

Thorley puffed visibly with indignity and marched up to the podium, carrying his briefcase. “Since you have seen fit to fling the gauntlet at my veracity, sir, I must advise you that in this valise I carry complete refutation to all your foolishly liberal postures.”

And more than that. “Well, Sir Conservative, let's see you refute this: my position on tax reform. Do you oppose elimination of the nefarious loopholes that favor the rich?”

“Allow me to bring forth my armament,” Thorley said, lifting his briefcase and twiddling with the latch. “A moment, if you please; it seems to have jammed.”

“The way all your positions jam when challenged!” Hope retorted, and a ripple of mirth traveled through the audience. It was not that they were taking sides; they were merely enjoying the repartee, as they might the sight of two pugilists scoring on each other.

Thorley grimaced. “If you believe yourself to be so clever, perhaps you can operate the latch more effectively than I can,” he muttered.

“Certainly I can, you conservative incompetent,” Hope agreed, taking the briefcase from him. In that manner he took possession of the pain-box tuner inside the briefcase. Now he could use it to nullify the box that controlled him. Now he was truly free of coercion.

But Thorley had done more. He had given Hope a small paper, on the advice of Emerald's husband Admiral Mondy, who had zeroed in on the psychology of the Tocsin campaign. It was a notice of significant news that Hope's captors had surely concealed from him: “One week past, Tocsin broke relations with Ganymede on suspicious pretext. Candidate cannot afford to ignore issue.”

Hope smiled. Now armed, he was about to play another scene, something he could do better than almost anyone else. “I know you are waiting for me to address the issue of the hour. As you know, I was at one time Jupiter's ambassador to Ganymede. Naturally I regret what has happened. But before I commit myself, I would like to be sure I have the facts.” He glanced at the camera. “Please establish a connection directly to Ganymede and ask the Premier to do me the kindness of speaking with me now.”

There was another ripple of surprise. Few people were aware how close Hope had been to the premier of Ganymede, despite their differing politics. It was not to the Premier's interest to torpedo Hope; it was Tocsin he would be after.

They put through the call, of course. Formal relations might have been severed, but a public call from a candidate for president of Jupiter was too dramatic a move to deny. In a moment the Premier responded.

His familiar face came on the hall monitor screens. “Where have you been, Ambassador?” he asked.

“That is a special story, Premier,” Hope said. “I would appreciate it if you would tell me--and our Jupiter audience--as concisely as you can what happened to alienate our two planets.”

The premier was amazed. It took seven seconds for his answer to return, because of the delay in transmission. “This is being broadcast? Alive?”

“Yes. You can verify it on your monitors.” They waited another seven-plus seconds.

He had evidently done so. “Señor, all we know is that our ship left our port carrying a cargo of sugar bound for south Jupiter. Then these pirates board it and claim it carried Saturnine arms, and diplomatic relations are broken.”

“Did it carry Saturnine arms?” Hope asked, nailing this down.

“Not when it left Ganymede, señor.”

“But then how did the arms get aboard?”

“They were put there.”

“By whom?” This might have been tedious, with the delay between each response, but Spirit saw that the audience was rapt.

“By your Navy, señor. Who else had access to our ship?”

“But why should the Jupiter Navy do that?”

“That I would like to know, señor. We have been selling sugar to your ships, and we have gotten along until this.”

Before long, they had established that it was a frame done as a foul political ploy. The potential torpedo had been defused.

Then Hope got serious. He put through a public call to Emerald, and told her of the sub aboard which he had been imprisoned. The Navy bracketed it and demanded its surrender. Unfortunately the sub itself had been mined, and it blew up before it could surrender. Still, it was mute evidence of the complicity of the opposition party.

Hope played it through to a resounding endorsement. Then he fainted. But the crisis was over, and while he recovered from the abuse he had suffered in captivity, he won the election.

Later, Spirit talked with him, explaining how she had carried on the campaign in his stead. “If Tocsin had been smarter,” he told her, “he would have kidnapped you instead of me!”

Then he had a longer session with Megan, and with Hopie. For he had indeed been sexually compromised while captive, placed in a cell with a lovely Hispanic woman who was supposedly another prisoner. He had promised her to save her baby, who had been used as a lever to make her cooperate.

That baby was Robertico, and now that his mother was dead, he became Hope's responsibility. This took some explaining, but Megan and Hopie understood.

Meanwhile Spirit continued busy. She was in constant indirect touch with Emerald and Roulette, tracking the threatening Navy maneuvers, tracking the opposition effort to subvert the electors of the electoral college, watching the Jupiter congress where sneaky legislation was in the making, the state legislatures where the electoral results were being challenged, and had a special project going in a number of key Jupiter states. Hope had won the election, but as Reba of QYV had warned, that did not mean that Tocsin would give up power. They had to be prepared to foil the remaining dirty tricks that were in the pipeline. Shelia was coordinating the assorted watches, with Ebony on the computer constantly gleaning spot information. It was like hanging onto a barrel of slippery snakes; if any one got loose, there would be an election to pay.

The containment effort was generally successful, but one snake did get loose: a bill appeared in Congress, concerning something routine, bearing an obscure amendment relating to the political process.

The bill passed shortly before the turn of the year, and the nature of the amendment became belatedly clear. It was a “clarification” of the requirement for holding major office in Jupiter. Above a certain level it was now illegal for any foreign-born citizen to hold office.

Spirit and Hope were foreign-born, technically, as they had come from the independent satellite of Callisto and had been naturalized as full Jupiter citizens when they left the Navy. Suddenly they were barred from taking the offices to which they had just been elected.

Naturally they challenged this bit of skullduggery on several grounds. They pressed for a rehearing and revote in Congress but were stonewalled; by the time that course was run, the day of taking office would be past. So they sued and got an expedited hearing before the Supreme Court itself, a week before the deadline of January 20, 2651. This was highly unusual, but the entire situation was extraordinary. Only direct access to the highest court could settle this in time.

The technical question was whether Congress had the right to pass ex post facto legislation affecting a candidate already elected. They argued that this was inequitable at best, and a mockery of the entire election process at worst. The opposition argued that this was not properly considered as new legislation but was merely a clarification of existing policy and therefore was valid. They succeeded in obfuscating the real issue--that of who was to be president--to the point that it became a question of Hope's fitness for the office. They were actually required to summon character references.

So while the twelve Supreme Court Justices listened in seeming passivity, Hope and Spirit suffered through the ordeal of being publicly judged as persons. All manner of innuendo was brought out in an evident effort to make them lose their tempers. They survived that, but we were almost torpedoed by their friends.

Hope's first Navy roommate, Juana, now a master sergeant, testified to his excellent character and confessed that they had first met in the Tail--i.e., Navy institution of sex. It was the Navy way, neither right nor wrong, but it was a way that was not generally understood in civilian life. It made both Hope and Spirit look like sexual perverts. Emerald gave similar evidence, except that she had actually married Hope, until it became expedient for her to go to another officer in order to obtain his expertise for the benefit of their unit. Again it was the Navy way; again it was damaging in the present context, as was the fact that Emerald had obvious Black ancestry. The Navy strove to extirpate racism from its midst, and mixed marriages were accepted without question, as were interracial liaisons in the Tail. But the civilian sector had not applied similar discipline to itself; interracial marriages, though legal, were socially problematical. Another black mark against Hope.

But the worst was Rue. Admiral Phist (Retired) and his wife Roulette, Ambassador from the Belt, were brought to Jupiter, to the court in the bubble of New Wash. They were cross-examined like criminals by the lawyer from the other side. “And isn't it true that you are a pirate wench?” the lawyer demanded of Roulette.

Roulette was now a striking woman of thirty-nine, retaining fiery hair and a figure that caused even the venerable heads of the Supreme Court Justices to turn. She had been in her youth the most physically beautiful of Hope's women, the veritable incarnation of man's desire, and her hourglass figure remained intact.

“Objection!” Hope's attorney protested, but Roulette waved him away.

“I can answer for myself,” she said. She turned disdainfully to the interrogator and fixed him with a gaze that actually made him step back. “Yes, I was a pirate wench--until Captain Hubris made a woman of me.”

“And how did he do that?”

“He beat me and raped me,” she said with pride.

The attorney straightened up with over-dramatic shock. Obviously he had been fishing for exactly this response. “And did you press charges?”