Post

You flashed your colors at me way prematurely…

The day before the election, as excited pundits both on and off the Lawgiver looked forward to a long day of electoral returns and vote counting, the capital ship’s crew considered their own preparations for the upcoming (potential) transfer of power. The newly-elected would be expected to board the Lawgiver within a week of their victory, while those ousted from their positions needed to be shown the exit within the day; with Congress consisting of hundreds of representatives, the range from minimal change to government purge was a vast one, and the Lawgiver had to be ready for either extreme and every possible variation of in-between. Clearances had to be produced for every newly-elected official and rescinded from every former representative – and the respective staff of each – all of whom had to be ferried to and from the most important and secure warship in Honorias. Elections, in short, were a headache for the Lawgiver’s crew, usually tempered by a small shot of vindictive pleasure when it came for their own turn to cast a vote… while possessing much more intimate knowledge of the incumbent candidates than almost anyone else in Honorias could claim. There was a reason that the Lawgiver’s crew, and servicemen within the Capital Fleet more generally, voted in prodigiously-high numbers to replace the status quo with new faces year after year after year.

They would surely get their wish this year. The electorate was furious at the unflinching perfidy of Congress’s representatives, brought to power by promises they never even pretended to keep, and happy to demonstrate their authority over everyone and everything except their paymasters in the Western March – where such authority was needed the most, of course. Opinion polls throughout Honorias were thorough in their denouncement of Congress’s current course and general behavior, to the point that one local publication from Hairan jokingly added an option declaring, I’d Rather Vote for Al-Esh, only for surveyed citizens to select that option enough times to attract threats of a government investigation on the Chamber floor. Several veteran representatives had already resorted to flamboyant displays of dissent against the prevailing political direction, seemingly to no avail. President Valley Shadow, powerless in his position of ultimate authority, had already resigned himself to the end of his once-promising career. Bureaucrats, separate from but inextricably linked with the politicians of Congress, struggled to erase their names from every record of policy implementation over the course of the past year, fearful that associating themselves with unpopular policies would destroy their livelihoods while equally frightened that future historians might discover some less-than-enthusiastic implementation of Congress’s declared policy and call the bureaucracy’s impartiality into question. Aides for all of these people rushed to and fro throughout the ship, seeking last-minute agreements from their counterparts in other government offices for one last day of debate in Congress before the powers of their masters dissolved and disappeared. And, to the side, the media, the crew, and the few honored visitors to the Lawgiver watched on with fascination and no small amount of glee, knowing that this blatant pack of fraudsters was soon to get its long-awaited reward for a year of disservice.

The crew, drilled to perfection by the long-serving Captain Long Tail, did its duty regardless of the circumstances. Nothing, either disaster or heightened anticipation, could be allowed to interrupt the daily functions of the Lawgiver, the first and finest ship of Honorias. Thus, even as tension built and eyes turned to the distant Dominions – as if paying them greater attention would bring news of their votes a whole day early – the ship and its crew continued with their daily tasks, altering their course only as the necessity of the election required. Of course there would be enhanced attention on the Lawgiver during this process; of course there would be a massive increase in the workload; and of course there would be the usual last hurrah instigated by a collection of egotistical fools whose time of power was now tangibly coming to an end. The crew had seen it all before, and the ship had withstood it all time and again since its inauguration.

Each election day, as well as the hectic days preceding and following on from it, had idiosyncrasies, of course. Veteran crew members still claimed to shudder at the memory of a year in which not a single representative was sent away by the public’s vote, which supposedly prompted such an outrage among a fellowship of defeated candidates that they attempted to smuggle themselves aboard the Lawgiver to stage a disruptive protest; the stories of just what trouble these would-be politicians caused for the ship’s crew as they were rooted out before they could interrupt the business of Congress, or the smooth operation of an active warship for that matter, were so outlandish that newer crew members had come to regard them as fancy and embellishment, as opposed to an accurate retelling. There were multiple years in which security protocols had to be adjusted to account for the election of representatives with previous criminal records, who had been sent to the Lawgiver as either a protest against the law or a statement of trust in their rehabilitation – or, most usually, as a demonstration of national ignorance regarding the nature of the candidates on offer. Compared to these strange frustrations, even the predicted purge of Congress’s incumbent representatives would be a simple affair, made simpler by the evident disinterest of those same representatives in maintaining their offices of power (at least if their lackluster reelection campaigns were any indication). There would surely be more traffic, at first going as the old representatives departed, and then coming as the newly-elected politicians arrived to begin their terms, but that was well within the ability of the Lawgiver’s crew to manage. Indeed, the unexpected request of a chartered passenger liner for clearance to dock with the capital ship and disembark a full complement of angry (but peaceful, law-abiding!) protesters, intent on mocking the departure of their hated representatives for all the nation’s press to see, only solidified the crew’s general opinion that this year’s election would be more entertaining than troublesome overall.

The assigned civilian hangar was unsurprisingly filled with members of the media when the liner, appropriately (and likely intentionally) named People’s Witness, set down with a fanfare of horns and pre-recorded orchestral accompaniment. Officers kept watch as the disembarkation began, ostensibly as part of their duties as opposed to any curiosity or smug sense of justice – they were, after all, strictly impartial – casting their eyes and sensory instruments over the crowd as men and women largely hailing from Berandas, a known quantity of anti-Marcher sentiment ever since its new colonists had arrived to discover just what Sharpness Everlasting had done to the Dominion’s previous population, organized themselves into an orderly line, rolled out their banners and lifted their signs, and struck up a semi-respectable tune with which to march throughout the public areas of the Lawgiver, particularly those surrounding the Chamber of Congress, according to a path that had been provided to their leaders by Captain Long Tail in accordance with long-standing policies on non-essential access. Even ignoring the earlier-referenced attempt by disgruntled candidates to smuggle themselves onto the Lawgiver, the super dreadnought had played host to legitimate protests and demonstrations before; this was an unusual case and an unusual cause, but not an unusual event in and of itself.

The captain and most of his officers went back to their business, while the media kept their cameras on the protesters as they began their rounds of the capital ship. They began with the main corridors leading away from the hangars, populated mainly by security officers and on-call assault forces that enforced Long Tail’s prescribed march route, but likewise traveled by several of the political aides whose scurrying had taken them too far from the safety of the representatives’ private chambers and offices. Held in place by the mass of newcomers flowing down the corridor, these aides were made to wait until the whole parade had passed them by, at which point the head of the march was already in sight of the ship’s central plaza. This large open space, designed in the style of a Sadrithian city square in the heart of an active warship, was bounded by the fashionable facades of civilian apartment complexes, markets and entertainments to service them, and the public entrance to the political spaces of the Lawgiver, a door that opened directly into the antechamber of the Chamber of Congress. By Captain Long Tail’s instructions, the protest march was not permitted to get any closer to the Chamber than this – there was not enough room in the antechamber for so many people at once, and furthermore it was unlawful to disrupt the business of Congress while it was in session, as such a gathering outside of the sealed doors of the Chamber would surely and intentionally do. But the plaza was spacious enough to allow for some delay in the march’s progression, as its leaders focused their attention on the doors leading to the antechamber and to the representatives doubtlessly hiding in the sealed Chamber beyond, calling for reforms, demanding satisfaction, and accusing the elected officials of Honorias of betraying their oaths and their nation for their personal gain.

Long minutes later, as the last few stragglers of the march shoved their way into the now-packed plaza to add their clamoring hooves and beating drums to the cacophony that was already driving the observing reporters mad, the doors to the political antechamber suddenly and unexpectedly opened. The leading group of protesters faltered in surprise as President Valley Shadow, accompanied by a quartet of guards, stepped out through the doorway into the open air, meeting the eyes of as many front-rank protesters as he could as he came to a stop just out of their reach. Quickly enough, the protesters pushed aside their shock, helped in large part by the noise and energy of the marchers behind them who could not see, or else simply had not noticed, the President’s arrival; demands went up, almost incomprehensible considering the number of complainants presenting their widely-varied grievances to Valley Shadow at the same moment. The President looked on without reply, taking in the crowd and the noise as stoically as he could before bowing his head and letting the accusations and demands crash over him.

It was a victory for the protesters, seen and recorded by the accompanying media frenzy, and more than a few newcomers erupted into celebrations as they took in Valley Shadow’s defeated countenance. But to accept these accusations of ineptitude was Valley Shadow’s only reaction; without any other interaction, what were the protesters to do now? Their leaders, purposely marching beside the loudest drummers for just this reason, signaled to their partners, and the chaotic banging, stomping, and screeching of instruments farther back were overcome with a regular cascade of booms, drawing all attention to the front of the march and, importantly, to the demands of the protesters’ organizers and spokesmen. The echoes of the drums faded into the corridors and hallways of the capital ship. The reporters and onlookers, as well as many of the protesters, recovered their wits and turned their eyes back to the President and his opponents. And the foremost marcher stepped forward, dangerously close to the scowling guards in front of him, and demanded, <Where are the traitors who abandoned their oaths and promises to the people of Honorias?>

President Valley Shadow replied simply, <They are going home.>

_ _ _ _ _ _

As the echoes of drums faded in the corridors behind them, Summer Gust and Illustrious Descent let their eyestalks wander across the almost-abandoned hangar one last time. Being the primary civilian port of entry into the capital, it was, while not sumptuous, certainly impressive in its style and elegance; this was the first glimpse given to those lucky enough to visit the seat of Honorian government, and it was built to give a good account of itself to those who would likely never see the Lawgiver again. It was also almost never this empty: Eyes were understandably on the angry mob marching through the center of the most important ship in Honorias, and it was only a small gathering, not including the crew of the People’s Witness, that looked on in disbelief as the representatives of Congress stole away aboard the very ship that had been brought to the Lawgiver to condemn them.

As the last of their colleagues got aboard the waiting liner, chartered for this purpose no matter what the political activists had been led to believe, Summer Gust finally sighed and turned an eyestalk toward his colleague. <This was not how I imagined that my political career would end,> he admitted.

<How many of us imagined that we would get into politics at all?> Illustrious Descent responded. <I was a business executive before they brought me in to organize protest marches. I didn’t realize that working on the side like that was going to take over my actual career – until they instructed me to run for office, anyway.>

Summer Gust nodded slowly. <I never meant to leave Sadrith,> he agreed. <And once I was forced to leave in the war anyway, I decided that I would never leave Inanius. I wanted to ensure that there would never be another war, and that the West and the East could go their separate ways in peace. I’m not surprised that they liked my opinion, but I am surprised that they knew anything about it before they came to me in the first place.> The representative threw a brief and undeserved glare at the People’s Witness as he added, <Now that I leave my home once again, perhaps I will ask them how they came to know of me when we arrive in Dagon.>

<It is not a bad home,> Illustrious Descent promised. <At least, Holamayan has never been a bad home. If Dagon is not the same… you will be welcome in my Dominion, Summer Gust. I’m sure they’ll take care of us, one way or another.>

<They have so far.>

The two were not always friends, and indeed their shared time in Congress had seen plenty of debates between them – particularly where Summer Gust’s pragmatism and Illustrious Descent’s zeal came into conflict, often enough when they backed the same general policy. But they were partners in a strange time, seeking power to defend the document that had returned their nation to peace even as their fellow citizens demanded that document’s dissolution; and so it was that they had joined with their colleagues to defy their whole people, for the benefit of the nation, and of course for personal benefits to themselves. Generations of Honorians would vilify their actions, but, no matter their regrets, Summer Gust and Illustrious Descent felt no little pride in their accomplishments. The March was as secure as a year’s delay could make it. Command was well-funded and – importantly – turned toward foreign threats, engaged in keeping Honorias safe rather than turning their guns against fellow Honorians. Those who might have threatened Honorian independence were neutered. Those who sought Honorias’s safety were counted as friends to the nation. No matter who won the election the following day, this Congress had done its part to defend the rule of law at home and the defense of Honorias abroad, and the abrogation of those policies by any following legislature would be nothing short of treasonous. The representatives of Honorias, their duty done, could depart the Lawgiver with clear consciences.

And as the People’s Witness, now observed by so few curious eyes save for the attentive records-men of the Lawgiver’s bridge and the cold gaze of Captain Long Tail, rose from the hangar deck one last time, the representatives of Congress (for one day more, at least) relaxed at long last. The capital had been their residence for a year, but it had never been their home. Now, at long last, they were free – well-rewarded and free.

Protest all you like before the empty Chamber, Summer Gust thought to himself, an eyestalk trained on the Lawgiver’s dwindling thruster flares. Your children will thank us, even if you will not.

And now I know what you’re up to, and it feels so good.