Up Against It - M. J. Locke [107]
Benavidez sighed. “Don’t you ever give up? Ogilvie has won this round. We can’t play chicken with two hundred thousand lives. Freeing up the ships proves to the populace that we are confident that things are back on track. It lets us put the resources where they are needed now.”
“I’ll need to have my lawyer look this over.”
He templed his fingers. “I’m afraid this is a take-it-or-leave-it offer. The cluster can’t spare the time and resources for a protracted set of negotiations. I’ve been exceedingly generous, but if you leave without signing, you won’t see an offer like this again.”
She sighed. “How am I supposed to wrap things up so quickly?”
“We don’t have the luxury of a transition period. You’ll have to leave the responsibility with your staff. Once Parliament’s Resource Committee hits you with a summons, you’re on the hook. I can stave them off till Wednesday, but no longer. It’s then or never.” Jane sank into a chair and looked over the document. It was very straightforward and to the point, and it contained everything he had said.
Benavidez said, “This isn’t about you, you know. I don’t believe you’re truly at fault for the warehouse incident. But I can’t protect you any longer. This is our only way out. I can’t let the cluster come to harm.”
A chilly echo of her own earlier words to Sean returned to her. By his own lights, he was sacrificing her for the good of the cluster, just as she had done to her eight dead.
“What guarantee do I have that you will honor this contract?” she asked. “The same people who pressured you to fire me will want to prosecute me—they will try to create a big media event with me at the center, to distract people from the ugly stuff that they have done.”
“You know me, Jane,” the prime minister replied. “I may be playing hardball, here, but I’m not out to screw you. You have served me well for a long time, and I haven’t forgotten that. I am confident I can fend off the wolves through Wednesday. And the minute you set foot on Sisyphus, the money goes into your account.”
Another long silence, as she looked through the document.
“What are you going to do about the sabotage?” she asked. “What are you going to do about the fleet of ships out there?”
“We’ll uncover the truth. If they’re responsible we’ll be able to use ‘Stroiders’ against them. And meanwhile we’ll have the ice.”
Jane released a long, slow breath. Things would not unfold the way Benavidez was fantasizing they would. But one thing was abundantly clear: it was over. No point in drawing it out. She let the machine read her retina, and input her personal code. Benavidez did likewise, and then transmitted the document to the administration’s personnel office.
“Whom are you replacing me with?” she asked.
“Aaron Nabors has agreed to step in temporarily.”
“Aaron?” The revelation fell so hard on her that Jane’s vision blurred. Pull it together. Pull it together.
“He’ll do well by you,” she managed to say. “You could do much worse than him as resource commissioner.”
Benavidez eyed her. “I’ll consider it.” He rubbed at his lower lip. “I’m assigning two agents to guard you. Public sentiment against you is growing. We don’t want any incidents. I advise you to keep a low profile.”
They stared at each other over another long silence.
“Will that be all?” she asked.
“That will be all.”
As she opened the door, he said, “You’ve done the right thing.”
Jane made a derisive noise. “Read Blood on the Bulkheads. It’ll give you a taste of what you’ve let Phocaea in for.”
Two cluster Enforcement agents came from nowhere and fell in behind her. She doubted the PM was concerned about her well-being. Who knew what paranoid fantasies he had cooked up? She could do plenty of damage if she wanted. Though she was certain her system access codes no longer worked. That was SOP with employees who were let go.
The media were everywhere, in wavespace and in the flesh. Her software agent gave her word that the prime minister was doing a press conference. She gave the reporters who crowded around, flesh- and virtual-wise, a terse no comment, shut