S’Cipio had to take the stairs down 32 flights while carrying a full case of Milwaukee’s Best, Light to get to the Tri-Bruce meeting hall. The ancient Gorn fortress that served as their capital was always having electrical trouble. Most of the wiring had been installed long before his father was born, and today the elevators were not working. At least I’m going downstairs, reflected S’Cipio. He truly hoped the elevators were restored before it was time to return to the surface.
The trip wouldn’t have been that unpleasant, except for the very fat Gorn in front of him who was painfully slow. S’Cipio thought he recognized the figure as a courtier who regularly begged money for an industrial concern, but it was hard to tell from behind. In the narrow stairwell there was no room to get around him, even in the landings. S’Cipio kept hoping that the Gorn would exit the stairs at each level, but the portly Gorn kept descending, at the same waddling pace, level after level. After the first dozen flights the Lord Admiral began to despair getting to the meeting hall early. After the second dozen he began to consider calling off the meeting altogether. Had one of the topics of conversation not been an assassination plot against his own life, he was sure he would have done so. Someone has been eating too many chocodilles, he thought to himself. Then he sucked his own gut in, painfully conscious of how many times his wife had said that to him.
It was frustrating, but still, it had to be admitted that the fat Gorn was moving as fast as he could, so S’Cipio decided to suffer in silence. So much of the universe seemed designed to make one suffer in silence. It was only the uncouth that voiced their complaints.
At the bottom of the stairs the hallways were packed with Gorn and aliens, and S’Cipio’s hopes for a speedy (for a Gorn) sprint to the meeting hall were dashed as the portly Gorn courtier turned towards the meeting hall and continued to hinder the Lord Admiral’s progress. In fact the hindrance grew greater, as without the assistance of gravity the courtier’s speed was even slower. The only way to pass him in the crowded hallway was to plow into someone heading in the other direction and, again, that would be uncouth for a Lord Admiral. S’Cipio let out a yawn, hoping the Gorn in front of him would take the hint and step into a doorway to let him pass, but the courtier seemed to take offense and slowed even further.
Warlock would have used a pistol to clear a path, thought S’Cipio, and for once he thought the Warleader’s insane reliance on violence may have be a good idea.
The final insult was added when the portly courtier stopped just in front of the Tri-Bruce meeting hall. Oh! This was insufferable! There was still fifteen minutes before the meeting, enough time to stash the Milwaukee’s Best, Light in the fridge and hide his prized single malts before Agave arrived, and now he couldn’t get into the room!
He began to finally say something rude, when he realized the courtier was speaking to the secretary within. “I am Sssenator Lethrag,” he announced in rolling tones, “and I have an appointment with Lord S’Cipio.” He then took a half step back, making sure that S’Cipio couldn’t get past. By making the announcement he’d let the Gorn behind him know his position, and now he was letting the irritating Gorn know his place.
S’Cipio caught the fork of his tongue between his teeth, preventing himself from expressing the rude suggestion that had formed there. He also noticed the senator’s omission of his rank from his title. The former civilian government hated being reminded that they were now ruled by the military. So, a former senator, not a courtier, thought S’Cipio, one of the few to survive Warlock’s purge. Well, I may have mistaken his identity, but he has also mistaken mine.
“The Lord Admiral S’Cipio isss right behind you,” he stated, with only a hint of stress on his rank.
The senator immediately collapsed in upon himself, and his scent changed to what could only be described as signifying mortified. “I…. I am sssorry, Lord Admiral, I did not recognize you.”
“Please,” responded S’Cipio, giving the former senator a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Think nothing of it. And let usss not sstand on court ceremony here on thisss grand day of celebration for our people.” S’Cipio dropped his lower jaw and displayed the rows of teeth that formed a Gorn smile. “Just call me Admiral.”
The senator tried, unsuccessfully, to hide the fires behind his eyes that blazed at that suggestion. But still, it had the appearance of a polite offer, so he had no choice but to accept.
“Admiral, may I come in and ssspeak with you for a moment?”
“I don’t actually remember a ssscheduled meeting with you today.”
“In truth, it wasss for lassst week. And the week before that. And the week before that. You keep cancelling.”
S’Cipio nodded. Yes, it was true. The return of the Gorn government to civilian control was his fondest dream. He was always scheduling a meeting to start the process, but things kept happening that he needed to take care of before that meeting took place.
The problem with the Senate was that each representative eventually developed a sense of *home* for the province they served, rather than for the Confederation as a whole. Even under a strong king, food, work, and comfortable living for his own *home* province was the primary concern of a senator. It was inevitable, but it made rapid reaction to threats impossible. The result had always been a military that was under funded and had too few ships. Rebuilding the navy for the next war was unthinkable under a senate. More importantly, the senate would never have been able to carry out his current crusade against the Syndicate.
The meetings always got cancelled as S’Cipio decided they were “too soon”. Still, sooner or later he was going to have to meet with a senator to explain why it was “too soon”, and right now this one was humiliated and off balance. Now was as good a time as any.
“Very well, Senator Lethrag, please come in.”
They entered, and sat at two of the three sides of the Tri-Bruce table. S’Cipio noted that Senator Lethrag sat at Warlock’s empty seat. Is that a message? he wondered. Is the man that impudent?
Senator Lethrag decided to fight his embarrassment by jumping straight to his point. “You have mentioned many times, Admiral, that you wish to return Gorn government to its rightful civilian hands.” S’Cipio nodded, and the senator continued. “The war is over. Isss there any excuse you can give as to why power hasss not already been transssferred back to the senate?”
Oh! This Gorn is impudent! thought S’Cipio He seeks to immediately recover from his embarrassment by putting me on the defensive.
“I do not believe now is the correct time,” began S’Cipio. “The war is over, yes, but there is much rebuilding to be done before the Confederation is secure.”
“But rebuilding isss the very reason you offered to transssfering control!” argued Senator Lethrag, and he was right. S’Cipio wished absently that he could have chewed his tongue off before making such an ignorant statement. Agave and Kroma had both laughed at him afterwards. “Many of the provincesss do need repair, essspecially those on the border, like mine. They mussst have a representative in the senate to ensssure they receive the resssourcesss they need.”
Ah yes, S’Cipio could see it now. A thousand work contracts each on a thousand planets, with no ships to enforce order over them. Graft and corruption would take over each of these projects. Most would never get finished, but the Syndicate would get rich.
“Many of the senators, Admiral,” continued Lethrag, “ do not believe you intend to return power at all.”
The accusation stung, and S’Cipio lost control of his tongue. “Many? Surely you mean only a few. There are not ‘many’ of you left.” He immediately wished he could take the remark back. Lethrag stood angrily, but S’Cipio raised his hand in a gesture of apology that also asked the senator to stay. He slid a tray of chocodilles across the table, another offer of apology, as he tried to continue.
“Such a massssive project needsss strong central guidance” he explained, “and the diverse senate cannot provide that. I think it best that the Tri-Bruce commission remain in power until the rebuilding is complete and piracy is eliminated. Once progress is well underway, perhaps we can begin the return to normal government. Slowly, of courssse, and with an eye towardsss keeping the rebuilding moving. Firssst we would need to ssselect a new king, to ensure continued central guidance. Then he could empower a new senate asss he….”
Lethrag’s eyes blazed again. “And who would thisss new king be?” he demanded. “The royal family was wiped out.”
“We would have to have a caucus of the noble familiesss….”
“And I am sssure your family would be represented.”
S’Cipio hadn’t thought of it that way, but in truth his family would mean that he would be a candidate. This was not going well at all.
Lethrag stood again. “Lord Admiral S’Cipio, I think I have met with the wrong member of the Tri-Bruce commission. Perhaps I should take my concernssss, and even my backing, to Agave.”
“It would do you no good, senator. There are only two membersss on the Tri-Bruce commission thessse daysss. We would both have to agree to change the government, and I will not agree.”
“Then perhaps I will take my cassse to the people!”
This was meant as a threat, but on today of all days it was empty. “I have jussst come from the people, Senator. Perhapsss you saw my walk of the Royal Mile on Tri-D? They seem happy enough with me at the moment.”
The senator gave a loud hiss, like a broken samovar, and did his best to waddle angrily from the room.
That one will require watching thought S’Cipio. Then he remembered the attempts on his life, and the unauthorized tracking of his movements via the External Security accounts. Only a very few Gorn would be in position to break into such accounts….. Very close watching indeed.
Perhaps the entire surviving senate needed watching. He checked the time. Where on Ghdar was Agave?
-S’Cipio
Topic: The Return of Grazz'Tzz: Full Scale War! (Read 8725 times)