BLUEMANTLE, Karen Langston [best classic romance novels TXT] 📗

the early lunch trade. Yet, the street was all but deserted. Cafés stood blind, their shutters bolted closed. Kerbside traders were scattered islands amid deserted pitches, regular stall holders having shifted to cater for the gathered in Glade. The few businesses that were open for trade were doing little. A group of children ran across the road. They laughed, carefree, making the most of the unexpected closure of their Education Centre. Above them, the Elevated stood silent, redundant.

Ahead, the Exchange loomed large, transformed by the human context. The precinct had long since disappeared, as had the steps leading up to it and the road beyond. The Wall of the Missing had become a parenthesis amid the silent throng, although the spectacle spoke for itself.

Chase stood before the building, overwhelmed. Then a hand grasped his arm and he froze.

“What are you doing out here?” hissed Wella.

Relief replaced the panic. He smiled at his sister. “I couldn’t stay there, knowing what was happening. I had to see it.”

“And what if they see you?”

“Relax, they won’t. Not with the wig.” He tipped his head to the crowd around them. “And not with all this going on. The cameras are trained on the masses. That’s the threat.”

“Still, it’s a risk. You were safe in the hide.”

“I couldn’t miss this. You’ve got to admit, it feels incredible. Being part of something so huge. Doing something that might actually make a difference.”

Wella sighed, relenting with a softening smile. “Yeah. It’s special alright.” Her expression darkened slightly. “Only…”

“What?”

“I didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. It’s escalated. Significantly. Just today. And the tension…”

“I know. I can feel it.”

“It can’t be contained. Either the A will crack or the mood here will reach a tipping point. One way or another, something’s going to happen. This, here? It’s too volatile.”

“So, what do we do? We can’t get this far only to fail because someone can’t take the heat and it all kicks off.”

“I say we’ve achieved a critical mass. Partly volume, but also the impact it’s having. The walkout’s causing chaos. The A will be paying attention. They’ll want it to end.”

“You think so? Already?”

“We’re there. It’s time.”

–

Around the board table in the Council Chamber sat nine red-faced Commanders. Between them, four empty seats. They had been in session for nearly two hours. In that time, they had repeated the obvious and skirted the issue. Tension was building; the clock was ticking.

Commander Fentlow had found himself chairing the meeting, despite declining the unanimous call for him to do so. “Commanders, please. If I can bring the discussion back to the most pressing matter. Again. Representatives from a number of key Divisions will be at our door, expecting an answer, in less than half an hour.”

“Then we send them away,” said one Commander. “We cannot rush a decision of this magnitude.”

“I suspect that will not go down well. They were insistent this morning and the situation has worsened since then.”

“Who is in charge here, them or us?” pipped up another, immediately sinking back into his chair.

“Hierarchy is not in question,” said Fentlow. “Hence their appeal this morning. They were right to raise the alarm. The fall in production has far-reaching consequences. We must intervene before it drops further. Whilst the timescale for a decision from the Council is challenging, it is, nevertheless, necessary. So, I ask again, do we have any further suggestions around the table?”

Commanders drew lines on their notepads, or stared at a spot mid-table, or stifled a cough lest the noise be misconstrued.

Fentlow sighed, glancing up at a clock on the wall. “Okay. Okay. Let us return to what we have so far. The obvious option is to order military intervention. Special Forces and the state police move in and arrest all those who refuse to return to work.”

“The detention centres are full,” said one Commander on Fentlow’s left. “There must be in excess of twenty thousand out there. We haven’t the space or resources to detain them.”

“Objection noted. Anyone else?”

“Chief of Command insisted we must not intervene unless they do something,” said a Commander to his right. “So long as they don’t act, they’re not in breach of the law. That’s what Chief of Command said.”

“I don’t dispute that,” said Fentlow. “However, I put it to you that Governor Blix would view the assembly of so many citizens as doing something. Congregating en masse like that. There’s no way she’d allow it.”

Heads nodded around the table. Murmurs rumbled like a collapsing hole.

“Perhaps…” ventured a Commander at the far end. “Perhaps, in the absence of the Chiefs of Staff and Command, we should consult her?”

“Commander,” said Fentlow, “I trust you are fully cognisant of the conditions of Article Twenty-One?”

“Of course.”

“Then you are aware that Governor Blix is under arrest, pending full investigation, and her rank suspended.”

“Yes.”

“So why, in crow’s name, do you propose we ignore this critical provision in our governance arrangements by seeking her advice?”

“She’s ruled this city decisively and successfully for twenty years. Whilst I’m not disputing the charges brought against her, whatever they may be, I’m just saying she hasn’t been investigated yet. It might all be a mistake. And she might know what to do.”

Another murmur, this time more cautious. The notion appealed. They had trusted their Governor. She would know, they felt. She would be able to decide.

Fentlow sensed the sway of favour. “Colleagues, I must remind you of the seriousness of this proposal.”

“But without the Chiefs of Staff and Command,” said the same Commander, gaining confidence, “who’s to say we have the authority to decide anything anyway? It’s not been brought into question before. We have no mandate. Is not our only recourse to defer to the leader who still, technically, holds the office, albeit subject to investigation?”

Fentlow stared at the faces around the table. Above all others, this was one decision he was not prepared to make. “Colleagues, please. Division representatives will be here any moment—”

There was a noise at the door.

Fentlow looked up, startled, unprepared to handle the confrontation.