Politician by Piers Anthony
Now he stands accused of the single charge I cannot credit. I simply do not believe that Hubris ever deceived the electorate about his positions or actions, or accepted a political bribe. If he had done so he would have released it as news. It is therefore my thesis that the charge on which he was impeached is false and that he was wrongfully removed from office as governor of the state of Sunshine. It would have been proper to remove him in protest to his open political policies; but it is an abomination to do so on the basis of a lie.
I have more specific evidence of falsification of the evidence against Governor Hubris. It was stated that approximately half a billion dollars was paid to him by the agency of an employee of his sister Spirit Hubris, a mystery man named Sancho. Sancho claims that he did not act in this capacity. However, Sancho is not considered to be a reliable witness because of his lack of identity. He refused to testify under oath and therefore was deemed suspect.
Now I happen to believe in the right of the individual to be free of government coercion. Therefore I protected Sancho’s true identity, as it is also the duty of the fourth estate to honor the anonymity of private sources. But now, perceiving that no less an action will enable justice to be served, I have prevailed upon Sancho to make the requisite testimony and to reveal his identity to the public. In fact, I shall do it for him, and allow others to follow up this revelation as they may elect.
Sancho is in fact a disguise used for convenience by Spirit Hubris herself. It is not necessarily appropriate, even in these enlightened times, for an attractive woman of any age to travel widely alone, particularly when she is closely related to a prominent politician whose life has been threatened more than once. Therefore Spirit Hubris has assumed masculine guise, donning gloves with a stuffed left finger to conceal her deformity and removing the makeup she normally employs to mask the abrasions on her face. In this guise, as “Sancho,” she has had no difficulty and has required no cumbersome protection; her complete anonymity has been her safeguard. Naturally she preferred not to have this revealed, because a cover blown is a cover useless.
This clarifies why Sancho was mysterious and had no formal identity. He was not an illicit immigrant, merely a fictive connivance.
In this guise Spirit has on occasion provided me directly with pertinent information about her brother’s activities. It was she who informed me of the governor’s planned venture to Saturn—an expedition that for obvious reasons could not be publicly advertised in advance. When such conflicts between principle and expediency arise, Hope Hubris has compromised by informing me in this direct and private manner, trusting my discretion not to nullify a particular thrust by premature exposure. At times the line between legitimate news and counterproductive exposure becomes extremely fine. In this instance I took advantage of the knowledge to force my attendance on the Saturn sally, in this manner amplifying my eventual report.
It happens that my records indicate that on two of the occasions in which Sancho is supposed to have accepted money at the warehouse, he—that is, she—was present at my office, delivering information to me. I can therefore vouch from direct personal experience that the charge against Sancho—and therefore against Governor Hubris—was on these occasions unfounded. I have also verified that on several other occasions Spirit, herself, was attending public or business functions in other cities, so could not have been at the Hassee warehouse when the courier claims.
Now simple logic suggests that if part of a statement is demonstrably false, all of it becomes suspect. Certainly the courier’s rationale is questionable; it is nonsensical to suppose that he could “go public” about the covert activities of the drug moguls without being promptly and nastily dispatched, unless he was, in fact, acting on their orders. I submit for public consideration the supposition that the entire charge against Governor Hubris is false, and I invite challenge by independent parties. But for the moment let us assume that my case has been validated and that an innocent man has been impeached. Let us now consider motives.
Governor Hubris is dedicated to the extirpation of the trade in illicit drugs in the state of Sunshine. His method may be questionable, but his thrust is not. This is consistent with his actions as a former military man, wherein he destroyed the power of the pirates of the Belt, a power that had before seemed immune from compromise. His motive is readily understood; his family and associates were ravaged by pirates. Pirates raped his older sister and cut off the finger of the younger sister. Captain Hubris became this century’s worst scourge of piracy in space; now he is going after the planetary aspect.
The major roots of piracy on Jupiter are the drug trade, the gambling trade, and the sex trade. Now, one might quibble at the particular target and mechanism—certainly I do—but may not seriously challenge Governor Hubris’s motive or the fact that, whatever its philosophical merits, his program was the most effective one seen in decades. A true military man, he did what he felt he had to do to get the job done. He reduced the flow of drugs through Sunshine to a tiny fraction of its prior level and saw a concurrent decline in crime. One may object to the method, but who could object to the result?
Who but the criminals! The nether grapevine has it that Governor Hubris has been Enemy Number One on the planetary drug empire’s list for two years. Could they bribe him to desist? Hardly! On this issue especially, Hubris is not to be bribed. Certainly he has delivered nothing for the money. There has been no evidence, contrary to the courier’s claim, that any drugs have been passing through Sunshine to reach other states; instead, the major pipeline has shifted to Lonestar—where they are about to implement a drug-control program similar to that of Sunshine.
Why, then, would the drug moguls pay out such an enormous sum of money to the man who continued to stifle their operations?
I suggest that, unable to take Hubris out physically— the governor’s female security force is remarkably loyal and efficient—the pirates at last devised a scheme to do it politically. The money was not to bribe him but to frame him. This was effective; he was promptly ushered out of office. It is evident that the drug business quickly reverted to normal, increasing in Sunshine to its former level. Recidivism is rampant among treated addicts, and crime in the streets is rebounding at a rate that has swamped the minions of the law. In a few brief weeks the halcyon days of Hubris’s term have been eclipsed. Certainly this was a victory for the drug moguls, who thrive on political corruption, and for crime in general. At the present rate of activity, their parcel of half a billion dollars, surreptitiously planted in the governor’s warehouse, should be redeemed within months. It was, it seems, a very sound investment. In addition I understand that much of that warehouse money has mysteriously disappeared from storage and that the proprietors are extremely reluctant to permit a recount by qualified parties. Perhaps the money was not an investment but a loan.
We come now to the question of the motive of those members of the State Senate that impeached Governor Hubris and removed him from office. It was evident throughout that these folk had very little interest in the facts of the case; they simply moved to get the job done. Why should they have committed such an atrocity? To that I have no answer, but as a sincere conservative I am appalled that the principles for which I stand should have been invoked for the likes of this. It was not conservatism that framed the governor, it was blind fanaticism. As a citizen of this great planet of Jupiter, I will not rest easy until the true answer to this question of motive is forthcoming. I would be doubly chagrined to think that we are governed not by law, of whatever persuasion, but by the kingpins of the criminal realm.
We have witnessed a rare perversion of due process.
Now let justice be done.
If there had been furor following Thorley’s interview with Sancho, there was absolute chaos this time. The details are a matter of public record; I’ll only say that before it was over, approximately fifty percent of the state senators of Sunshine had resigned in disgrace, the White Bubble itself had a political black eye bec
In the early days Thorley had interposed his body to protect one I loved from assassination by laser. This time he had interposed his literary talent—and lo! his pen was mightier than the sword. He had at one stroke laid waste the entire array against me. Historically it was to be known as “The Sunshine Massacre,” but that hardly told the story.
With a foe like Thorley I hardly needed friends.
CHAPTER 14
FORFEIT
When I was released, Scar interviewed me. This time he was angry, but he couldn’t tell me why without revealing that Dorian Gray was in fact a spy. But he made a good stab at it.
“You know we watch you now,” he said gruffly.
“Yes, of course,” I agreed innocently.
“We have infrared cameras on you constantly, and sensitive mikes, so that we can see and hear whatever you do.”
“But I thought it was all right to—to have relations with Dorian, since you put her in my cell.”
“As long as you both behaved,” he growled.
“But haven’t we cooperated perfectly?”
“You tried to keep a secret from us!”
“What secret is that?”
“Your restored memory!” he exclaimed with righteous indignation.
“My what?”
“You thought our pickup couldn’t hear, if you cupped your hands and whispered in her ear,” he said angrily. “But it did hear, and we got your secret. You have been punished for concealing it from us—and she for not telling us.”
Of course, it was a lie, for I had whispered only gibberish in her ear. This was my confirmation that their pickup could not intercept such sound. But I allowed my face to be crestfallen. “Dorian—is supposed to tell?”
“What do you think cooperation is?” Scar demanded. “You must report on each other, anything you learn.”
I spread my hands in defeat. “I thought I could get away with a secret memory.”
“Where did you see the trigger word?”
I became canny. “If I tell you that you’ll erase the others, and then I’ll have nothing.”
“Others?”
“There were several, but I haven’t read them all yet.”
He assimilated that. I could virtually read his thoughts: if there were other key terms, then I had not yet recovered all my memories, so his program was probably secure, so far. I would have to read the other terms, and he could pounce when I did so. All he had to do was watch me.
Naturally he didn’t say that. He had to make it seem like another ploy. “You will not see that woman again until you tell,” he said. “She will remain in the hole.”
“Not the hole!” I cried.
“Then tell me!”
I was silent. So he returned me to my better cell, alone, to consider the matter.
I knew Dorian wasn’t in the hole. She was locked away elsewhere in the sub. She was now serving in her other capacity: as a lever against my will.
I did miss her, despite my knowledge. It was not easy to be alone again. But I held out, knowing there was pressure on Scar, too. I could tell by his tension; he was almost out of time. He could neither mem-wash nor torture me; it was too late. He didn’t even withhold the drug-beverage, so I didn’t have to pretend pangs of deprivation. He had to have my cooperation. His own position depended on it.
I had another indoctrination session, and this one was strongly indicative. “You are going to give a speech,” Scar told me.
“Why?”
“Because your girl friend will be killed if you don’t.”
That was no lie. The lever was now out in the open. Dorian might be their agent, but if it suited their purpose to torture and kill her in my presence, they would do so.
“And if I give the speech?” I asked, daunted.
“You both will be freed.”
He was telling the truth, again. His job was done when I gave the required speech, and so was Dorian Gray’s. They would pay her off with her baby, and she would retire to obscurity.
“If I agree to give the speech will you let me see Dorian?”
He waggled a reproving finger at me. “Your speech will win your freedom and save her life. If you want her company in the interim you will have to show me where those trigger words are.”
Again he was serious. I knew I could not afford to lose my next key term, so I had to demur. Thus I was alone, and it did bother me. I felt guilt for being bothered, knowing that it compromised my love for Megan. My captors had intended to compromise me completely; they had succeeded partially.
I had to memorize the speech. It was an astonishing one. It was a promise to benefit all constituents, right all wrongs, and make the planet a better place instantly. All criminals were to be summarily sentenced and executed without appeal. The present tax structure would be replaced by a flat tax without exemptions. Welfare benefits for the poor would be enhanced, the military budget would be increased to make Jupiter preeminent in the System, and vast amounts would be allocated to research and development. The government budget would be adjusted to produce a substantial surplus, reducing the planetary debt. The membership of the Supreme Court would be increased to twenty-four, to alleviate the caseload. Minority problems would be redressed; Hispanics would be given all the most important posts on a preferential basis. Grants would be made to all churches and philanthropic organizations. Education would be sharply upgraded by the elevation of standards and pay scales for teachers and administrators. National medical insurance would be extended to cover every citizen at any age; no one would die because of poverty or neglect. There would be legal insurance, too; no person would be denied court redress because of lack of funds. And so on. This speech promised all things to all men, with a vengeance. Perhaps in my mem-washed state I might have thought this made sense; as it was, I knew it was nonsense.
“If I may ask,” I said to Scar, “am I a candidate for planetary office?”
“You are, Hubris,” he assured me. “You are running for president of the United States of Jupiter. But you head a minor ticket; there is no chance of your getting elected.”
He was telling a half-truth, but I couldn’t tell which half was truth. My illicit memory suggested that I had been about to try for a major party nomination. Perhaps I had tried and failed, and splintered off into a minor party bid; such things had happened to others in the past. So it was possible that I had a minor party nomination that nevertheless had a fair chance to win, or a major party nomination with bad prospects. “Then why should I make a major speech?”
“To influence the election,” he explained. “The two major parties are so evenly divided that the balance of power lies in the minorities. The Blacks and Hispanics, mainly. As the candidate of the Hispanic Party you influence a significant bloc of votes. You may be in a position to lever either major party into office.”
“The Hispanic Party?” I asked, perplexed. “I know nothing of this.”
“Because it was formed in that period you have forgotten. You, as a Hispanic refugee and former military hero, became its spokesman. Now you are going to do your best to increase its base, drawing in those Hispanics who have not yet expressed their support, together with sympathetic Blacks and liberal Saxons, to make it a significant third party. You will try to prevent either major party from winning a majority of the electoral votes. Then your power will he magnified enormously.”
I looked again at the speech. “But doesn’t this promise too much? I’m not sure it’s possible to meet all those objectives.”
“It isn’t,” he agreed. “Not right away, anyway. But yo
Still I was perplexed. “If my position is this, why was I mem-washed?”
“Because you had fallen into bad political advice and would not listen to reason. You were compromised, and that threatened to destroy everything that you and the party had worked for and miss the chance of the century. That had to be corrected, in time for the election. We had to erase it all and reeducate you in the basics while your mind was open. Now you are ready to do what must be done.”
I did not trust this, but I seemed to have no choice. The programs of the speech seemed good, individually, and I agreed with most of them, and I did not think that this agreement was entirely a matter of reeducation. So I memorized the speech and rehearsed it, preparing myself.
Such preparation is not accomplished in a day. I returned to my cell, alone, for the night, and pondered what this signified. I was a candidate for planetary office; that much both memory and captors agreed on. My memories had caught up to what I judged to be about two years from the present. But to run as the Hispanic candidate—that did not make sense. I had never campaigned as a Hispanic; I had campaigned on a platform of competence and integrity. I had sought support from all segments of society and had tried to serve all segments while in office. It was true that the Hispanics had supported me massively, and that when I had first stepped beyond my Hispanic base to run for governor of Sunshine, I had been defeated. But the second time, with my Gany ambassadorship behind me, I had been successful, and I was satisfied that by the time I completed that gubernatorial term, the majority of the voters in the state of Sunshine had been with me, despite some bad times along the way. Why should I have thrown that away by returning to the narrower political base?