The Fireseed Wars

THIRTY-FOUR

Hadron Tnarn pressed his thumb into the ID plate at the residence of Hasthor Flan and the door whooshed open. Tharn had spent half-a-million Paratemporal Exchange Units purchasing the thumb-lock override that allowed him to open the locks of any door on First Level. He was on the 685th Floor of the University Towers where Councilman Flan's residence took up one quarter of the entire floor.

Politics must pay well, he thought. leant wait to see the Councilman's face when I pop-up in his bedroom unannounced. His wife's, too.

He entered the darkened foyer followed by his bodyguard, Warntha Swarn, who moved like a shadow. Warntha was very useful if any bodily persuasion was required. Although as his mana had grown, Tharn had discovered qualities within himself that he'd never anticipated. For some strange reason, people are always so anxious to be helpful, he thought wryly.

He'd been in Hasthor's residence before, so he had no trouble navigating the hallways to the bedroom using just his pin-light. The door's not even locked! Oh to be so trusting.

He touched the light-plate three times and the bedroom was lit up like an aircar landing stage. Both Hasthor Flan and his wife bolted upright out of their bed.

"What are you doing here, Tharn?" Hasthor stammered. "There are more warrants for your arrest than there are fingers on my hands!"

"I guess you don't want to be associated with a known felon, Flanny, old friend. Well, now that I think about it, that never stopped you from taking my campaign contributions. Did it now?"

Hasthor's wife, a wizened woman of indeterminate age, looked at Warntha and started to shriek.

"Shut her up!" he commanded.

Warntha yanked her out of bed and slapped her so hard for a moment it appeared he'd broken her neck, as she soundlessly slumped to the floor. Her body convulsed, shook once or twice, and then stopped. A low rattling noise from her throat confirmed that she was only unconscious, not dead.

Hasthor's hands were out in supplication. "Why did you have to hurt her?"

"I wanted your full attention, Councilman."

"W… w… what do you want from me?"

"I wanted to congratulate you on the Censure Motion you passed against our wayward top Paracop, Verkan Vail. One of my spies just informed me that Verkan has just resigned from the Paratime Police. A long-delayed action; one I was beginning to believe I would never be able to savor!"

"So you're not mad at me, you just broke into my residence to crow?"

Tharn nodded and Warntha's hand shot out and grasped the Opposition Party's chief by the throat.

"And to think I was coming here to congratulate you, you ungrateful piece of human garbage."

Hasthor, whose face was now brick red, tried to speak but all that came out was a sputtering garble.

"It's lucky for you that I still find you useful, Councilor. Warntha, release him. Let me warn you, Flanny, any more of your disrespect will cost you the opportunity of a lifetime."

"What's that?" Flan cried, massaging his throat while his eyes filled with greed.

"Tomorrow in the Council you're going to call for a Vote of No Confidence against Management Party. When Management fails to muster enough votes to continue, you are going to be nominated for General Manager."

Speaking to Tharn as if he were a untutored intern, Hasthor pompously said, "It's too early for a Crisis of Confidence; it would be a waste of time and Opposition would lose face."

"Are you so sure? I've already lined-up the Right Moderates in support of the motion."

"You have? How did you pull that off?"

"We're not the only ones who are disgusted and disturbed by the present regime. Besides, my money buys seats on both sides of the aisles." Tharn laughed. "There will even be a few Management Councilmen, whose unhappiness with former Chief Verkan has forced them to repudiate their own Party!"

"You can't be serious."

"Call for the vote tomorrow and find out just how serious I am."

"Still…"

"I don't want to hear it, Flanny. Do what I ask, or my next visit may not be a friendly one."