Spinneret

Chapter 6

"… and the elections will be exactly two weeks from today, terms to be six months each." Meredith glared over the top of the computer screen, and Carmen felt the room chill down a degree or two. "Will that be satisfactory?"

"Yes, sir," she said promptly. A longer preelection period would have been nice, but as long as the council was strictly advisory it didn't much matter whether or not the best people got on it. "Thank you for giving this a chance, sir. I know you won't be sorry."

Meredith leaned back in his chair and gave her a long, measuring look. "It's a pity you never actually joined the service, Olivero. You have the type of selfconfidence that makes for the kind of officer COs either love or can't wait to transfer."

Carmen swallowed and said nothing.

"But I like to think of myself as open-minded," Meredith continued. He reached forward and typed for a moment on his terminal. "So I'm going to give that optimism a real test. As of right now, you are in complete charge of this council: its organization, election, procedures—everything. Your file lists an impressive paralegal background, so this should be right up your alley. It'll all be done in your off-duty time, of course."

Carmen stiffened, but she knew she should have expected something like this.

She'd backed the colonel into a corner and he was getting his revenge. "I understand, sir," she said.

"Good. Now, since your organizational department conveniently keeps track of Astra's progress versus the original projected schedule, we know that—after two weeks—we're about five days behind, overall. If we ever drop to ten days behind, your council will be summarily disbanded—no arguments or appeals. If, on the other hand, we ever get ahead of schedule, you can come to me and we'll discuss whether to relieve you of the extra council duty or else cut back your official work load. Fair enough?"

"Very fair, Colonel," she said, both surprised and pleased. He was being reasonable about this, after all. "Thank you, sir."

His mouth quirked in a wry smile. "Just remember this warm glow when you're trying to function on four hours of sleep a night. Dismissed."

Not surprisingly, Dr. Hafner was waiting for her in the outer office. "Well?" he asked, getting to his feet.

"All set," she said. "He took the package pretty much as I'd presented it."

"Great." Hafner opened the door and they walked together into the hall. "So …

when do I get my flyer?"

"How are you on early mornings and long days?"

"Haven't had anything else in years."

"Okay. Have all your stuff out at Martello Base by oh-four-hundred tomorrow.

Can the two of us load it by ourselves?"

"We can if we've got access to a forklift." He gave her a quizzical look. "You're coming too?"

"I pretty well have to, since I'll be flying the thing."

Hafner stopped short. "You?"

"Sure. The Army gave a bunch of us a crash training course right after the Celeritas got shot at and they thought we might be heading into a war. I'm not very experienced, but I am qualified, and flyers are actually simpler to handle than normal aircraft. More automatic systems, for one thing."

"I've heard that." Hafner still looked unhappy. "Uh … look, I don't doubt that you're capable—"

"And if we don't do it this way, you'll just have to wait your normal turn," Carmen put in calmly, "because I can't shift around both a flyer and a regular pilot without flashing red lights all over my boss's board."

Hafner considered for a second, gave in with a wry smile. "Well, since you put it that way, I accept. See you at four."

The notice, stuck prominently to the Ceres bulletin board, was surprising in and of itself; but to Perez, its coauthorizing signature was even more unexpected. So Carmen Olivero had gone and gotten herself involved. He'd hoped his nudges would do some good, but he hadn't expected anything this fast. You see, Carmen?

he silently addressed her signature. Underneath all that cultural armor you're just like the rest of us. Hispanic blood does not thin with distance.

He read the notice again, more carefully this time. Meredith, at least, was sticking to expected form. The council was clearly being designed as a cardboard cutout, with a slightly louder voice but no more power than any ten citizens had right now. But that was all right … because eventually it would change.

Turning, Perez strolled toward the rec center, where other workers would be gathering after a long day in the fields. Ceres's fifteen hundred civilians would have two representatives on the new council … and one of those, Perez had decided, would be him.