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The Lies Behind the Truth 2002 short story by Mark Newbold Two years after Episode IV – A New
Hope Ten days before polling Glann Cipple basked in the glory of the mid-afternoon Amagadian sun and closed his eyes. Around him a phalanx of reporters, desperate for a quote or a remark that they could take back to their editors for inclusion in spreadsheets and newsletters, pushed and shoved for position. But Cipple was far too wily and experienced to make a mistake like that. He knew precisely what he wanted to say. Indeed, he’d already said it, and extraneous quotes were unnecessary and irrelevant. Besides, what more could he possibly say? “Due to the current political climate, and strictly in the interests of democracy, I have decided to declare a fresh election for the office of governor of Amagad City. I will again put myself up for election, which shall be held in ten days time. I will remain in office until that time.” He
thanked the assembled journo’s, smartly dodged the question that flew in from
the Amagadian reporter for the Chancai Express and retreated back into
the side entrance of his enormous Fortress.
Cool air whispered at him and his chief aide Melm as they walked
briskly towards the turbolift that would whisk them up to the ninth floor and
Cipples office that overlooked his city of Amagad. Melm
stared stoically ahead as ever, never giving away a trace of his true
emotions, his albino-like appearance masking his thoughts. Cipple glanced at him out of the corner of
his expressive eyes and smiled. “So, my performance. How was it?” “Exemplary.” “You think so?” “Would I lie?” Glann
fought the smile that came to him and stepped forward as the turbolift
arrived at the ninth floor. Melm
followed as they walked the short distance to Cipples office, and nodded at
the guards who stood silently at the doors.
Cipple walked around his large desk to the expansive window and
balcony that gave him an unrivalled view of his city. In the distance the sunlight twinkled
brightly off the cool waters of the Bay of Amagad, and a steady stream of
freighters, pleasure yachts and cruisers arrived and departed from the many
docking bays and ports littered throughout the city. The hot sun beat down a consistent heat
onto the baroque buildings, interspersed as they were with newer, more modern
constructions. And atop all of this,
on the extinct volcano of Mount Fava was Cipple’s Fortress. He drew a satisfied breath of relief and
folded his hands behind his back. “Exxob has proved to be quite the actor,
don’t you think?” asked Glann, turning slightly towards Melm. Melm shook his head slowly. “I wouldn’t know. I’m not a drama critic.” Cipple
raised an eyebrow. “Imagine for a moment that you are.” Melm
paused before answering. “He certainly lives the part. If I didn’t know better I’d think he
believed his position was genuine.” “But he does know better. That’s the problem.” Melm
frowned. “What do you mean?” Glann
smiled as he stepped away from the window and faced his lieutenant.
“I’ve been governor of this city for many years. During that time I have safeguarded this
city, taken care of its well-being, assisted in its development. Amagad City isn’t merely my base of
operations, it’s my home. I have a
deep affection for it.” He raised his
eyebrow again. “It’s one of the
reasons why I so rarely leave. But
even I knew that I couldn’t hold on to my city in an…unofficial capacity. So, as you well know, I officially ran for
the office of governor of Amagad. And
I won.” Melm
folded his arms and a faint smile crossed his face. “It was a good day, for all of us.” “Indeed it was. My official position has made life for us infinitely easier,
and since Jan Lomona made a deal to have his name and mine automatically
removed from all Imperial records last year it has become easier still. We now have a dominant, almost
unassailable position in this sector.” Melm
nodded in agreement as he himself moved towards the window. “So why call this election?” “What my position requires is
validation. A tangible display of its
strength. You and I both know our
enemies are aware of my ability to manipulate a situation to suit my needs. And as governor I have access to
information and corridors of power that as an underworld leader I simply do
not have. But I have held office for
a number of terms now, and at each turn I have always had one political
opponent give me a run for my money.” “A shrewd policy. An easy victory would seem obvious.” “Precisely. Which is why Exxob, and Ansonn before him were such useful
tools in my armoury. What better
political position than to have your main opponent on your payroll.” Melm
nodded as he watched a stock heavy freighter rise from the Fortress grounds
and blast upwards in a spiral towards the clear skies above. “It’s the perfect situation. So why the election?” Glann
seated himself, switched on one of his many wall monitors and closed the
blinds. Melm turned to watch a
display run images of Glann during his previous election campaigns. “Exxob has been a useful asset in my time
as governor. He has argued against
every decision I have made, stood toe-to-toe with me in heated debate and run
me close in every election. But as
time has passed he has become undeniably popular with the people. While I hold the power and make the
decisions, Exxob has become the darling of the media. And despite the fact that I’m the one who
feeds him his lines, tells him when to attack and when to fade, that public
spotlight has gone to his head.” Glann
leaned back in his seat. “In short,
Exxob believes he can genuinely defeat me in an election.” “So why take this risk? If he’s as ambitious as you believe, he
might do anything to gain victory.
For instance, what if he forms a political coalition with the other
runners in the election? Or informs
the press about being in your pocket all these years?” Glann
smiled and shook his head. “He would do neither, because that would
not only discredit me but him too. If
the people truly believe he’s the tough, renegade character I’ve built him up
to be, then admitting he’s merely a puppet on a string would crush his
popular support. What I need to do is
give him his head, let him think he actually has a fighting chance.” Melm
paused, waiting for Cipple’s next line. “And eliminate him?” Glann
opened the blinds and gazed out of the window thoughtfully from his seat. “Not necessarily. As I said, my office requires
validation. The unfortunate death of
my main opponent would only bring more suspicion upon me. What I must do is entrap Exxob. He’s much more use to me alive.” It
was Melms turn to raise an eyebrow. “And if he gains more votes than you in
this election? What then?” Glann
smiled swiftly, but the grin was gone as soon as it had appeared. “Then I step down as governor.” Melm
frowned, an action alien to a man so thrifty with his emotions. “Can I assume you have a back up plan?” Glann
Cipple rose from his chair and nodded. “You’d be disappointed if I didn’t.” Eight days before polling “Governor Cipple, Governor Cipple, a
quote for the Gista Gazette!” Glann turned; his most slimy politician smile plastered across his face and inclined his head. “I’m looking forward to my forthcoming
visit to meet the president of the Gista Council. I hear the wind is blowing east this season.” That
managed to evoke a rowdy laugh from the assembled hacks who knew the wind always
blew east during summers on Gista, and the Gista journo flicked off his
recorder as Glann glided by. He was
flanked by a string of bodyguards and police, many his own operatives. Carlonian Feese was perched high on a
rooftop, Goah Galletti tracking his movements further down the street. Laced throughout the crowd were many of
Cipple’s elite Shadow Warriors, and in his immediate entourage were Melm and
Malletta, his two best bodyguards.
Out in the Amagad City streets he was as safe as could possibly
be. Especially considering the air
support that hovered above. They
were making their way towards the City Plaza, a new redevelopment that had
reclaimed industrial wasteland and built it back into a somewhat fashionable
part of the city. Along the street in
the opposite direction Glann could just spy the mass of Exxob’s supporters
and people also moving towards the Plaza.
An open-air debate had been arranged for just after noon, and as the
sun reached its apogee on this fine day Glann relished the opportunity to
engage his `opponent’. As per
Amagadian election rules, the other runners in the contest had been
eliminated after an early official exit poll, leaving the prime airtime and
public speaking sessions for the two genuine contenders – Cipple and Exxob. Glann
admired Exxob’s ability to find the core point in every discussion and bring
the argument around to that. In other
words, he aimed for the lowest common denominator, and that was something the
people could understand. So while
Glann made promises and agreements, Exxob would dig in and hit hard at the
practicalities. It made for great
discussion, and heated arguments. And
Glann Cipple loved an argument.
Especially those he knew he could win. Hidden
weapons were steadily aimed as Cipple and Exxob approached each other and
mounted the podium before the packed Plaza.
The raised platform had a seated area adorned with various political
banners and flags. Glann seated
himself at his table and poured himself a glass of water, something he would
never have to do for himself back at the Fortress, and waited for Exxob to
take the stand. Alongside Cipple sat
his three chief advisors, genuine political experts who knew just enough to
believe that Cipple was a genuine politician and Exxob a legitimate
adversary. Exxob cleared his throat
off mike and began to address the crowd. “I was asked by a reporter yesterday why
I have become so enamoured with Amagad City in my time here, and at first I
couldn’t think of a reply that didn’t sound trite and contrived. But on reflection I realised that the
reason I am so taken by this city is her honesty. Her commitment to allowing
beings from every corner of the sector to better themselves, make something
of themselves. I came from far away
from the Setnin Sector in order to make a better life for myself, a new
start. I tried on Zelon. I tried on Wennicas. I even tried on Noscage for goodness sake,
but nowhere embraced me and engaged me quite like Amagad. And it was only yesterday that I truly
nailed down the reason why. Amagad
doesn’t judge people on their past, it judges them on their potential, and that’s
what makes her such a great city. I
want to be the next governor of Amagad City, and you know I will do
nothing but my very best to see that Amagads best interests are served. Governor Cipple has been a good, loyal and
sturdy leader through these difficult times of rebellion, but I believe that
I can take us even further forward in our endeavours, make us a stronger and
more vibrant place for trade, commerce, entertainment and tourism. The foundations are there for a fantastic
leap forward for this city and this planet.
Vote for me and I shall make sure our destiny is achieved.” Exxob
stepped down from the podium to massive applause and smiled a politician’s
smile as Cipple passed him and took the stage. Glann acknowledged Exxob’s speech with a smile and a courteous
nod and paused before the podium as the applause echoed away. “As you know, I myself wasn’t born in
Setnin. My home is far away from
here, even I’m not precisely sure where.
I came as a youngster and made Setnin my adopted home. I feel that I am as much of a Setninite as
any of you born here on Amagad, or any other world in the region. My
esteemed colleague is right in almost everything he said about this
world. Yes, Amagad is a place
of opportunity and ambition. Anyone
with even the merest hint of willingness to better themselves should be able
to make that aspiration a reality here.
But I believe Amagad offers more than just that. Beneath the increasingly polished society
we have engineered here, hewn from the lava of Mount Fava, there beats the heart
of a city that can truly alter the course of the sectors history. Amagad City has always led the planet and
charted new waters for this system, but I know that Amagad can establish
itself on the sector map as a prime location for trade and industry, leisure
and politics, commerce and religion. In
my years as governor I believe that my administration has made a
difference. It was my administration
that opened up the trade lanes through neighbouring systems that allowed the
increase in free trader traffic that has so dramatically improved the
community surrounding our spaceport and landing zones. My administration lowered the tax levies
on bulk freight transportation and refuelling fees, freed the Amagad Trade Guild
from the binds of government, thus allowing a free market economy to flourish
and engendered a system of commerce that has allowed this city to develop and
prosper. By
accepting the challenge of my esteemed colleague I have dissolved this
session of the council and, in eight days time, shall learn how much faith
the citizens of Amagad truly have in me and my people. I believe it is a faith well placed. Exxob believes otherwise, and that is his
right. But a vote for Cipple is a
vote for integrity.” He glanced at
his senior assassin Carlonian Feese who was keeping a steady rifle nozzle on
the proceedings forty meters away on a rooftop. “I didn’t fail you before, and I won’t fail you again.” With a smile and a raise of his hand
Cipple stepped back from the platform and waited for the journo’s inevitable
rush with a patient smile. “Governor Cipple, Governor!” “Please people, I shall be holding a
press conference back at the Fortress in forty minutes. My advisor Melm shall handle all other
questions. Thank you.” Glann
slipped a sly grin at Melm and left the platform as Melm stared blankly back
at his employer and prepared to field questions. A public speaker Melm was not. “With just eight days remaining until the
election, is Governor Cipple pleased with the progress of his campaign?” Melm
paused for a few moments, considered the question and then answered. “Yes.” “Err, and does he foresee any obstacles
in his efforts to remain governor?” Melm
glanced at Feese and Galletti, who had managed to move parallel to Cipple and
follow him on the walk back towards the Fortress, their guns trained on any
potential problems. “Categorically no.” Five days before polling
“So, onto our next order of
business. How goes my election?” Yullm
scanned halfway down the list of minutes on his vast itinerary and marked off
the previous subject, a discussion on the state of the Noscage runs via the
Quarshannel Sector. He still couldn’t
quite believe that Melm, one of Glanns senior members of staff, had asked him
to take the minutes at this important staff meeting, and Yullm was eager to
impress. Despite being a familiar
face along the corridors of the Fortress, and as such familiar to Glann and
his senior staff, he was rarely seen on the ninth floor. Briefly flicking
through a data pad he glanced up at Cipple and nodded. “Quite well sir. Your ratings are up, although Exxob still
has the edge in the popular vote. If
I might suggest, perhaps you should go on the offensive for the remaining
days, close the gap in the polls.” Cipple
furrowed his brow as he gave Yullm a cursory glance. “When I require your political opinion
I’ll pay you for it. I have another
press conference scheduled for tomorrow?” “Yes sir, right after your mid-morning
meeting with Cravo the Hutts representative from Afagard. You have a ten-minute public address
through the Amagad News Net, then a meeting with department heads. Then your weekly Shadow Warrior
inspection, an afternoon meal with your wife,” Yullm paused as Bella raised
an eyebrow at the mention of her name and Glann reached across the table to
squeeze her hand. “A Holonet link
conference with representatives from Cawbate, Gunsann and Hynra, a thirty
minute break, your evening briefing with Galletti, Feese, Lomona and
Melm.” The four looked across at Glann
as he eyed them. “And for the
evening, the sabacc game with Jomobol Pocock that your schedule was cleared
for and finally your late evening meal.
As ever, all these are subject to change.” Yullm flicked off the data
pad and leaned back in his chair, taking a glass of cool water as he did
so. Glann raised his eyebrows as he
surveyed his staff. “A quiet day then.” He stated flatly, but
not without a brushing of dry humour.
Yullm half smiled. “Yes sir.” “So, should we vote for you or the other guy?”
asked Jan Lomona, leaning back in his seat, his ever-apparent cocky smile
floating across his face. “I only ask
because I voted for the other guy last time and I like to be consistent.” “Vote as your conscience dictates,”
answered Glann as he sipped from his tumbler of Vineau. “Just remember that I have every vote
monitored and tagged.” Jan
couldn’t resist a wider smile from breaking across his face. “Hey, I only did it because you refused
to lower the import duty on Duarga.”
He glanced at Feese and Galletti, who sat impassively to his
left. “Not too much of an election
promise to keep, is it?” Galletti
ignored Jan and curled his lip. “My only question is, which one of us
gets to sit on the grassy knoll?” “Patience Goah. When the time arrives for action you’ll be the first to
know.” He noted Feeses annoyed
posture and corrected himself.
“You’ll be among the first to know. But now is not the time for that discussion. In five days I
have a vitally important public duty to perform. One that, if completed correctly, shall ensure our continuing
success and prosperity. I am well
aware that some of you deem my efforts to portray a benevolent public
exterior a waste of time. That is
your opinion, and I respect it as much as I respect anything else you have to
say.” It was a barbed comment, and
the intent wasn’t lost on those around the polished table. “But it is nevertheless something that I
shall do, and win or lose I intend to profit from this venture.” He stood, taking his tumbler with
him. “Exxob has been a tool, but
eventually tools become blunt and unreliable. Exxob is a blunt tool.
I need a replacement with a keen edge.” He paused at the doorway, watching members of his staff as they
made their way up and down the busy corridor outside. “Nothing here is at stake but the manner
in which the public perceives me.
What I do as governor and what I do as leader of Cipple Industries are
two separate things. Granted, my
position as governor opens corridors that would otherwise be closed to me,
and those in public office I deal with that are aware of my underworld
dealings give me more respect than is usually awarded to a governor. In short, I can afford to lose this
election.” He steadied himself
against the doorway before turning back to his people, a gleam of anger
igniting in his eye. “But I’ll be damned
if I’ll lose this election. Exxob
thinks he can defeat me in a fair fight.
Glann Cipple doesn’t know the meaning of a fair fight. Cheat, connive, lie? Of course! Why have a conscience about winning if you’re not prepared to
lose? Well, I’m not prepared
to lose, and I don’t have a conscience.
Guilt is for the guilty, and I’m guilty of nothing but
self-preservation.” The
assembled group all paused as Glanns anger threatened to boil over, and he
caught himself as he was about to explode.
Bella gave him a steadying look and Glann breathed deeply through his
nose, knocked back the remains of his Vineau and seated himself at the head
of the table. “You alright?” asked Lomona, and Cipple
nodded briskly. “Five days remain until this
election. Make sure that in six days
you are all still calling me governor. Now, onto our next order of business.” Four days before polling “You are clear on
the arrangements. Your financial
reparations are substantial. But that
is an irrelevance. Timing is of the
utmost importance.” “I am clear. We have waited a long time for this. It’s well past time that our friend paid his dues.” “Agreed.
Your movements shall not be monitored, I will see to that. And this agreement. It goes no further.” “My word is my bond.” “As is mine.” Three days before polling “So who you voting for?” “Not sure. Exxob makes a lot of sense, but Cipple has always done alright for us.” “Yeah, but a change is as good as a
rest.” “True, true. Maybe I should go for the underdog. After all, that is the Setnin Way, right?” The
two men laughed easily as they finished their round of drinks in Zythlies and
ordered another. Goah Galletti walked
silently past them, like a black shadow gliding through a graveyard, and
towards the rear of the bar. He had
been hearing exchanges like that for the past few days, people undecided
about their choice in politician.
Some were swayed by Exxob’s excellent rhetoric, some by Cipple’s track
record. But one thing that came
across loud and clear from the bar side tittle-tattle was that this was an
election that was far too close to call. For
his part, Goah held little interest in politics. His idea of politics came at the business end of a barrel, as
did his ideas of diplomacy, negotiation and compromise. Cipples interest in maintaining the
governorship were frankly beyond him, but Glann was his employer and mentor
and if remaining governor was his wish, then that’s what Goah would do his
best to achieve. It
was mid-afternoon and with three days remaining until polling the faces of
Cipple and Exxob were everywhere, plastered across advertising hoardings and
walls, skimmer stops and hover-verts.
Goah shook his head as he briefly moved into the sunlight, before
ducking into a shaded alleyway and the comfort of darkness it afforded
him. For a man so desperate to
maintain his high levels of security, and so eager to stay seconded behind
the safe walls of his Fortress he was certainly putting his image and person
about. Exxob’s ambitions Goah
understood, and while he was eager to eliminate him, as a threat to Cipples
position, he also could appreciate the mans temerity in opposing his
employer. And while Glann was utterly
correct in his observation that Exxob couldn’t squeal without harming his own
standing with the public, Goah still thought the man was either very brave or
very foolish. Foolish if he crosses the line, thought Galletti to himself. A
cool breeze wafted through the alley, and Goah enjoyed the momentary pleasure
before climbing up a rust-caked ladder and onto the rooftops. Despite his status as one of Cipples main
men, and in a city that was half populated by Glanns employees, Goah still
preferred to keep his distance from the people and the streets. It better suited his purposes to remain in
the shadows, and like Cipples other assassin Carlonian Feese he hated
crowds. I always find myself
tallying up bounties in a room. Which
is fine at a gangland meeting but bad at a wedding reception. Galletti’s
destination was more than a kilometre away, over the winding alleyways of
what had locally become known as Lavaville, a network of tubules created by a
long ago volcanic eruption. Past that
he would reach Fayyette, an area that wound its way from the sea front
towards the foot of Mount Fava, and then Bellis, the exclusive private estate
that sat on the bay side of Mount Fava, beneath the imperious gaze of Cipples
Fortress. Goah knew Amagad City better
than the back of his hand; every hiding hole and safe house was known to
him. And while he much preferred to
hunt at night like the nocturnal creature he had become, his favourite
hunting ground was Amagad, whatever the weather. The kilometre passed quickly and Galletti reached his destination, the secluded abode of Garris Tarainnew, head of the Amagadian Chamber of Justice for over thirty years and the man in charge of the polling committee. It was Tarainnew’s responsibility to ensure that all votes were counted; all ballots remained unspoiled, and most important of all the election was run properly and above board. Garris, an elderly Amagadian with a decades-long distinguished career in public service, prided himself on his social standing, high moral fibre and fierce reputation as a devoted public servant. He also prided himself on his vast personal fortune, and working alongside Glann Cipple and his organisation only helped swell that pride with every election, every shady deal that was slipped his way. Goah
waited patiently outside the rear porch of Gariss’ house and calmly looked
down the long lawn as sprinklers bathed it in water. Beyond the end of the garden, from their
high vantage point halfway up Mount Fava, he could see the Bellis estate stretched
out before him, then Fayette and Lavaville, back down to the sea front area
from where he had just journeyed. He
knew that above him, hidden by Tarainnew’s house, was Glanns Fortress. But Galletti didn’t doubt for a second
that he was being observed by more than one set of eyes, both organic and
electronic. After
all, Amagad was always watching. Garris appeared and opened the porch, allowing Goah entry, all the while nervously checking outside in case anyone saw him take in this murderous and wanted criminal. Goah brushed past the old man and stood out of sight of the window. Tarainnew smiled briefly, wrung his hands together and led them through to a plush and opulent seating area. He waved his hand and the mid-afternoon holoshow crackled out of the ether and cast the room into silence. Garris turned to Goah. “Mister Galletti, can I get you a
drink? A Vineau perhaps?” Goahs
face didn’t betray even the slightest flicker of emotion, as if he hadn’t
heard the old judges comments. Garris
frowned slightly in confusion and seated himself. “Governor Cipple sent me here to ensure
that your previous arrangement is still in place. I assume it is.” It was
a statement, not a question, and Garris was far too wily to see it as
anything else. He swallowed and
nodded quickly. “Of course, of course, I assure you it
is. My arrangement with the governor
is more than compensation for any moral ambiguities I may have.” Goah
breathed deep through his nostrils. “Be sure that it is. The governor is eager to secure this
election win. It would be unfortunate
if he failed. The ramifications would
be…significant.” Garris
didn’t need to understand legalese to plumb the barely hidden depths of that
statement. He nodded and reached for
his half-empty glass of Brevvnian Whiskey that lay on the glass
tabletop. Goah watched impassively
and ran his hand through his long dark hair.
He hated crooked judges more than most; their pious ability to legally
and morally justify any decisions they made twisted his gut. Cipple, Lomona,
Centaur, Feese, Melm and all the rest were criminals operating on the wrong
side of the law, and Galletti knew that.
But Tarainnew was supposed to be an honourable and just man. He traded on that perception, and made
social and political gain from it.
Cipple at least made the effort to play both side of the fence,
bouncing one off the other. Even
Lomona managed to walk the line between legal dealings and underworld
operations, although barely. But
Galletti was honest to himself made no such efforts. He was who he was, and those who couldn’t
deal with it could go to hell. And
most who disagreed with Galletti did just that. Tarainnew
paused, waiting for Goah to say something else, impart some information
relevant to the election, but Galletti had nothing else to say. Instead he walked through the hallway past
a hidden camera that winked its little red eye as he moved away. And
Goah winked right back. “Galletti is exiting Tarainnew’s premises
right now sir.” said Yullm as Glann leaned over the back of his chair,
watching his agents movements in the dim light of his operations room. Glann smiled, relaxing in the knowledge of
there being concealed cameras in every corner of his city, watching each and
every transaction and activity that occurred. True, it was an unfair advantage, but that was Cipples
favourite kind. Why cheat if you
can’t reap the benefits? He stood
straight as Goah left the cameras field of vision and melted again into the
shadows. Yullm was seated still in
front of him, deep in thought. “What‘s on your mind Yullm?” “Sir, what if the judge discovers the
cameras in his house? Surely it’s a
risk having them there?” Cipple
nodded. As ever Yullm, you are
full of questions. “Perhaps, but in this profession it isn’t
always about being a step ahead of the opposition. It’s about staying a step ahead. Figure that out and you’re made.” Yullm
indeed thought hard about that nugget of wisdom as Glann moved to exit the
operations room. “Sir?” “Yes Yullm.” “About my promotion sir.” Glann
raised an eyebrow. Persistent
fellow. I like that. I might be able
to use him. One day. “You have an eight hour shift to
complete and I have a busy day with Cravo the Hutt’s people. Let’s see how this election goes and we’ll
discuss it then.” It
wasn’t a yes and it wasn’t a no, but Yullm beamed with pride anyway. “Certainly sir.” Two days before polling `…and news just coming in to AmaNewsNet,
Setnin Justice Department agents have found the body of Judge Garris
Tarainnew. Tarainnew, eighty-four,
led the Amagadian Chamber of Justice for over three decades and was one of
the planets most senior judges, forging through reform after reform. His body was discovered by a cleaning droid, which alerted
the authorities. It’s unclear as to
the cause of death, but S.J.D agents found traces of weapons discharge at the
scene, leading to cries of foul play.
The judge was set to play a large part in the governor’s
election, slated to take place in two days time. And in other news, the Amagad Assassins once again reigned
supreme in the sixth round of the Teflon Hardball Tournament on Yuma…` Glann
flicked the screen off in annoyance and threw the remote control onto the
couch. He stood and walked to the
window, deep in thought. He knew precisely
who had assassinated Tarainnew, but could do nothing about it. After all, how could he possibly
know? He’d have to have hidden
cameras, wouldn’t he? Cipple
watched more freighters depart and arrive, lost deep in his musings. It was 08.30 hours, and even though Amagad
never slept it still felt like the dawn of a new day, a new start. As the election approached Exxob had
indeed gone on the offensive and Glann wondered if Yullm had been right. Perhaps now was the time to go for
the throat. But Cipple knew that his
current course was the right one, that despite his by-hook-or-by-crook
attitude he could win this election on a straight ticket. Regardless of the fact that the man who
would rig the election in his favour, Tarainnew, was now dead. Cheating was simply the back up plan. Glann
turned to answer the plaintive bleeping of his desk com and waited. It was Lawgad Greeny, his armoury officer
who collected and checked in all weapons at the Fortress’ front desk. Although not unheard of, it was unusual
for Greeny to call Glann direct. “Yes Lawgad, what is it?” “There’s thirty reporters outside wanting
a statement about the judges death.
What do you want me to do?” Glann
knew precisely what he wanted Lawgad to do, but that would destroy his
election chances for certain. “Tell them I’m not available right now
but I shall be making an official statement later in the morning. I’m on
AmaNewsNet at noon. They’ll get all
the quotes they can handle then.” “Right.” answered Greeny, terminating the
connection just as a deftly concealed panel slid open in the wall to Glanns
left and Melm appeared. Glann
motioned to the empty seat and blew out a long breath as his right hand man
sat. They looked at each other in
silence for a few seconds before Melm broke the ice. “The assassination was an inventive
move.” “Absolutely.” “You will undoubtedly be implicated in
this. Galletti, Feese, myself, any
one of us could have done this. And
we are all employed by you.” “True.” “And Exxob must have known about the
camera. The assassin looked directly
at it.” “An unwise manoeuvre on the assassins
part, but also true.” “So, do you have a counter?” “Wheels are in motion.” “Will these wheels be turning in two days
time?” Glann
paused, glancing at a screen embossed into his desktop. He raised an eyebrow. “I cannot be certain. The underworld I can control and
predict. Politics is another beast
entirely.” Melm
nodded in agreement. His employer was
quite correct, politics moved like the riptide that swelled just a klick away
from the Amagad City coastline.
Coercion and threats were regular in his world, but in an arena of
film crews, news conferences and infomercials other tools were needed. And it seemed Exxob has a box full of
them. More,
it appeared, than Glann. In
truth Melm was frustrated. Cipple
usually took decisive actions, sent men like himself, Galletti and Feese to
follow through his instructions. But
in this case, physical actions were not what was required. Exxob’s instruction to have Tarainnew
murdered was the first aggressive move.
Melm was itching to pay back in kind. Glann
watched his number one closely, seeing beneath the calm exterior to the
depths below. He knew Melm, his chief Shadow Warrior, wanted to send Cipple’s
elite warriors in. Trained by the
legendary fighting race of the Ferrereans, his Shadow Warriors were among the
most lethal fighters in the galaxy and were commonly used by Cipple when his assassins
couldn’t make their target. Their
name alone struck fear into their enemies’ hearts and, seconded on the fourth
floor of the Fortress as they were, entering and exiting through secret
tunnels and passages, their existence remained largely a mystery. Glann
waited for Melm to speak, but he had nothing to say. Glann paused before speaking himself. “For once I find that my hands are
tied. In this situation, where
fingers point accusation as easily as cameras, I have to mediate my every
instruction. I believe I’ll have to
wait this one out.” Melm
simply nodded, knowing Cipple was right.
And as annoying as it was, one fact struck true. Even
though it was barely mid-morning, Exxob had already won the day. Polling Day Exxob
accepted the applause with the easy air of a man ascending to power and took
his step to the podium to cast his vote.
He lifted the pencil, an antiquated tool used in days past for
writing, and leaned forward to tick the box.
In accordance with Amagadian tradition he marked the name of his chief
opponent, namely Cipple, folded the flim and deposited it in the box. He smiled again, confident in the
knowledge that he would prevail and stepped back to allow Glann to do the
same, following the precepts of their political ancestors and showing his
respect by marking his opponents name.
Glanns smile, though broad and ready, betrayed the merest hint of
uncertainty. With Tarainnew dead and
Exxob level with him in yesterday’s exit polls he couldn’t guarantee the
outcome that, with the calculation of this final polling station, would be
announced within minutes. Cipple
posted his vote and moved away. It
was late evening and the skies were beginning to redden and cloud over. Rain had threatened throughout the day but
not arrived, although a sharp wind rattled through the City Plaza. Glann eyed the skies, as if waiting for
something to break, but nothing happened and he turned his attentions back to
the podium. Exxob seemed unusually
pleased with himself, but Cipple was well aware of what an excellent actor
the man was. Better than I gave
him credit for, he thought to himself ruefully. If I’d only listened to Bella. She told me he was too smooth to be true, and as ever she was
right. Ten
anxious minutes passed as Glann conferred with Melm and his wife Bella. He could still see his assassins mixed in
with the crowd, and Jan Lomona leaning against a concession stand, drink in
hand. Cipple watched as the freshly
invested polling officer cleared her throat and moved up to the microphone
stand, pulling her hair back from her face as the wind began to rise. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the
announcement of the Governors Election.
As per tradition, after an official exit poll our list of candidates
was whittled down from an initial number of eleven to our two primary
candidates, Governor Glann Cipple and Mister Exxob. In accordance with pre-stated election rules, the vote is
counted over three stages. In stage
one the vote was tied.” There
was an audible gasp from the vast crowd that had gathered in the City Plaza, and
Glann raised an eyebrow at that.
Tarainnew was a pompous old fool, but at least he could rig an
election. This was making his top
button feel like a vice. The polling
officer continued. “After discounting spoiled votes we
commenced with our second vote. That
too was tied.” She waited a second,
almost for dramatic effect, and then cocked her head at the sound of engines
that were rising in pitch. She turned
her head to look skywards, as did over a thousand other souls. In the skies above a Dropship was
descending with alarming speed, right towards one of the quayside bays that
dotted the seafront of the Bay of Amagad.
Exxob frowned, and Cipple looked directly at him, watching for his
reaction, as the livery of the ship became clearer and clearer… And
Glann could see the blood drain out of his opponents face. Exxob
became swiftly agitated, conferring with his people and wiping the sheen of
sweat that has quickly rained across his brow. The Dropship had landed and was spilling its armoured passengers
onto the Amagad turf, making their way along a narrow tree-lined path towards
the City Plaza. Melm watched on in
confusion, scanning left and right to see where Galletti, Feese, Lomona and
his Shadow Warriors were positioned.
Galletti had the ship covered, as did Feese, and his Shadow Warriors
were already forming a loose circle around the men and the ship. Lomona was still leaning against the
concession stand, half-empty glass tilted towards his mouth. Melm couldn’t understand how this ship had
made its way past the tight air traffic controls that defended Amagad City,
or past the flight of Ridley fighters that regularly patrolled the skies
above. He turned to Bella, whose face
betrayed nothing other than curious interest and looked at his employer. “Wheels in motion?” asked Melm. Cipple half smiled. “Turning somewhat later than I would have
liked,” he replied. The
lead armour walked across the permacrete of the Plaza, onto the stairs that
led upwards and onto the podium. He
nodded curtly at Glann, who acknowledged him with a nod in return and looked
directly at Exxob. “You know why I am here?” Exxob’s
proud resolve began to crumble and flake as he found his mouth go dry and his
knees begin to buckle. He breathed
deeply and took a stab at false bravado, the crowds’ eyes burning into him. “I have no idea whatsoever. Do you bring news from Gunsann?” Melm
turned to look at Glann, as did Feese and Galletti who had moved closer to
the confrontation. Gunsann,
the world Glann had communicated with five days earlier via the Holonet, and
now Melm knew why. A world unfamiliar
to him, although he noticed Galletti raise an eyebrow in recognition and
Lomona edge away from the stand to get a better view. The
officer stood straight in his armour and narrowed his eyes at Exxob. “News?
You want news of the homeworld?”
He practically snarled his next word.
“Traitor.” The officer took a step back and looked Exxob up and down, and the shame and embarrassment flushed bright red across Exxob’s cheeks. Glann watched as his brash employee dissembled before his eyes, even the actor was faltering. Cipple stepped forward, close enough to an open microphone for the crowd to clearly hear and addressed the officer “Sir, this is a political election. Votes are being announced. On what authority do you address the honourable gentleman?” The officer paused, looking at Cipple as if to say you know damn well what authority, but caught the gleam in Glanns eye, remembered his strict briefing from four days previous and the financial incentive therein. He spoke clear and strong. “On the authority of the Gunsann Elite Guard. Our clan have fought for over eight hundred years against our enemies the Coursai. Every male joins one of our regiments; every female enlists in the reserves. No one is spared. Exxob was pledged to our regiment at birth, and at the age of twenty-one was due to join.” He glared at the actor. “He did not. Exxob boarded a supply vessel bound for one of our outer lying trade moons and jumped ship.” The armour turned towards the microphone, addressing the crowd directly. “Your politician is what we call a draft dodger. And on Gunsann, the crime is punishable by death.” Exxob’s face had totally paled of colour, the blood draining from his cheeks. He knew the punishment for the crime; it had remained the same on Gunsann for countless centuries. And even as he turned to stare blankly at Glann as he was led away by the guards, the crowd’s howls of betrayal and disappointment ringing hollow in his ears, he knew instinctively that Cipple had arranged this. And it was then that he realised that he was never truly in the game. He was a mere puppet, a pawn in a greater game of tactics. And he had lost. The furore of the crowd died to a muted murmur after the last echoes of the Dropship’s engines had rumbled away around the vast Bay of Amagad. Night had descended silently as age-old formalities were accorded their proper respect, and for the fifth time Glann Cipple was invested as Governor of Amagad City. Just like before he accepted the title with humility and grace, two performances he had learned well from his former, now fated, employee. The polling officer handed him the ceremonial staff and stepped back as Cipple accepted the applause of the crowd and the glare of Holonet cameras and news crews. A brief press conference, thanking his election staff and employees, and Cipple was ushered into a waiting speeder for the short journey through the City Plaza and up Mount Fava back to his Fortress. The stars were shining brightly above as Glann, Bella, Melm and Feese rode back in content silence, up the roadway and through the imposing gates, through the speeder compound that ran beneath the front of the Fortress to Cipple’s private exit. Past security and into a turbolift to level nine, and the sophisticated splendour of his spartan but stunning office. Bella retired to bed, the hour carrying past midnight, and Feese had work to do night hunting, leaving Melm and Cipple alone. “A good days work, wouldn’t you agree?” Cipple poured two slim shot glasses of whiskey and handed one to Melm, who placed his on the small table next to his seat. Glann watched him out of the corner of his eye, knowing that something was on his mind, but patient enough to let Melm spill in his own good time. “You contacted Gunsann five days ago.” “That’s right. I needed to know if my sleeper agent was still active and prepared. She was.” Melm paused again, glancing around the room and then fixing Glann with a stare. The ganglord didn’t flinch. “And that conversation instructed the Gunsann Elite Guard to arrive today.” Glann remained locked in the staring match with Melm. “It initiated it. My conversation with the guard commander the following day, along with the information that his clans most wanted man was running for political office in the Mid-Rim made up his mind.” Glann smiled broke the stare for a wicked grin. “That and breaking the Gunsann weapons embargo and selling them three thousand weapons.” Always with the angle, thought Melm as he changed tack. “I spoke to the polling officer before we left City Plaza. She told me the result of the election.” “But Melm, you know the result. I won.” Melm raised an eyebrow. “The real result. Before your wheels began turning.” Glann laughed and drank from his glass. “Began turning? You should know by now that they never stop turning. I can’t afford them to.” Melm glanced out of the window, unsure of how to inform his employer of the cold truth. “Glann, Exxob won the election. He polled sixty two percent.” Glanns smile melted like dew as he gripped the glass tightly and flared a nostril in annoyance. His bravado dipped as the realisation hit home. With Garris Tarainnew assassinated, his hold on the polling had been taken away. He still was able to manoeuvre the exit polls, but they were more for the benefit of the media than anything else. No, this had almost been a disaster and he knew it. If the Gunsann Elite Guard had not arrived in time, or had somehow been intercepted then he would have been experiencing a very different night. “There’s a lie behind every truth. And a truth behind every lie. This is both.” Glann thought for a moment about his own words. “Who else knows about this?” “Us and the polling officer.” Melm paused. “Why? We’ve used her before, she’s trustworthy. Do you think she’d reveal that?” Glann half shook his head as he finished the glass and watched a speeder race away from the Fortress grounds, running on minimum lights, into the depths of the Bellis estate. “Not after Feese has finished with her.” Melm lifted his glass slowly and brought it to his lips. Alcohol something he rarely partook of or enjoyed. But this was a special occasion. Wasn’t it? “Once again you’ve prevailed.” Melm raised his glass in salute. “To the victor.” Glann Cipple turned and surveyed the midnight vista of Amagad City, laid out before him like a glittering pearl, ripe for plucking. He made ready to give a reply but realised that he had nothing to say. Polling day was over. The people of Amagad City had already spoken. The Lies Behind the Truth 2002 short story by Mark Newbold Two years after Episode IV – A New
Hope Histories – The story of how Glann Cipple
maintained his public image of being the legitimate Governor of Amagad as well as continuing his many underworld dealings. Showing many of
his main backroom staff, this also highlights various other characters, like Yullm, the
second level information gatherer who at this stage in his career for Glann
was an eager, idea-driven member of staff who was sitting in on his very
first senior staff meeting taking notes.
Also it explains how Glann managed to rig the previous elections to
his liking, and shows how deep his hooks dug into the fabric of Amagadian
society.
Cast of Characters Glann Cipple Melm Exxob Goah Galletti Garris Tarainnew Carlonian Feese Jan Lomona Yullm Bella Cipple Lawgad Greeny Ansonn Zuude Eddren |