So she took an accusatory tack, complaining, "You're kidding, right? And get labeled as writing science fiction? I need more proof before I put my name to an article as unbelievable as this one is so far. I mean, what it seems those sticks of yours can do is just not possible. Maybe you'd care to explain what exactly it is they do do?"
"What is your conclusion?"
"I'm not paid to draw conclusions, merely to report what's
newsworthy," she said. "But it's pretty obvious you want to be mayor.
"What is obvious is often proven irrelevant," he replied, then nodded toward the mayor as he added, "He does not do much that impresses me. He decides no matters of great import. I am not sure now that I want his title. I am taking a few days to observe and decide."
She almost laughed. The man wanted the mayor's job when he had absolutely no idea what it entailed. Or was he trying to throw her off the track?
"The position of mayor can't be encompassed in Just a few days," she told him, "when the projects he undertakes can take months, even years to finish. A mayor's greatness or failure is seen at the end of his term, in what he has accomplished during that term. It's not a title, it's a job. He works for the people, for the betterment of the town, not for the betterment of himself."
A hand was waved to dismiss that reasoning. "The position will be what I make of it, not what the townspeople have come to expect. Not that it matters. This is merely a stepping‑stone to true rulership.
So much for the misleading theory. Sounded more like he was going into bragging mode now, which didn't hold much hope for her being re eased when they were done talking. She might as well hear it all, then ...
"Rulership, huh? Don'tcha mean leadership? But just out of curiosity, how did you think you could manage to jump into an elected position of prominence in this country when you're not a citizen of it, or known to the populace?"
"I am known. The people in this building already think I am their mayor. He will make a speech today to the thing called media that he has been merely my puppet, that I have been making all decisions for him from the start."
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that such a speech would cause outrage‑to say that the people had been duped-not have the desired effect he seemed to think it would give him.
But Just in case they couldn't stop him before then, why give him warning that he'd be digging his own grave with that course of action?
So she said instead, "Aren't you forgetting the other candidates running for the job?"
"If I decide to continue on this stepping path to the presidency, I will be the only candidate running for mayor during the thing you call election. The others will concede to the better man."
"You plan to use those rods to force them to drop out at the last minute, don't you?"
He smiled. It was such a confident, I‑can't‑lose sort of smile. But that wasn't what had her belly rolling with dread, it was the realization that the man could do exactly what he planned to do, and what he planned to do was much worse than she'd been told.
The presidency? He was out of his flipping mind, and yet those rods could get him there. Men could be told how to vote. The media could be given false information about him and make it nationally known. Women who might suspect what was going on and try to prevent it could be warned off by their bosses and men in their families, or railroaded into jail all as they had threatened to do to her.
There were countless ways they could get around any opposition, just with the touch of a hypnotic stick and a few whispered words. judges, other politicians, top law enforcement positions, hell, even the high brass in the military, all could be made puppets in Jorran's camp.
"Why bother with small potatoes, why not go straight for the big seat?" she asked, trying to understand his reasoning. "Plastic surgery could make you look like the current president." Hadn't Dalden been worried that he had changed his appearance? "You could just take over that way‑''
"And assume his name?" was said indignantly. "Never. I share no glory. It is my name that will be revered, as it should be."
She forced herself to remember he'd said "if" earlier, that he wasn't fully committed on this path yet. There was nothing standing in his way from his point of view, since he didn't know about Dalden and Martha yet. So what else was making him have second thoughts?
"You've gone to a lot of trouble here, to be undecided in the matter. Perhaps you've realized that it's not going to work in the long run?"
The curious look he gave her wasn't doubt; it was laced with amusement. "Why would it not?"
"Because you're always going to have someone questioning who you are, where you came from. Everywhere you turn there will be reporters hounding you, demanding answers. You can fool a few people, but this country is comprised of millions, and every one of those millions is concerned with who leads them. And every time you open your mouth, you will generate even more questions."
"How so?"
"Because your accent points out that you're not one of us, so you have no business governing us. Now if you plan to have someone else do all the talking for you, you might get by for a while. But you strike me as a man who doesn't want to take second place to anyone."
He actually chuckled. "Your suppositions are based on what has been, not what will be. Do you understand that your governing foundation will be changed to my foundation? A king is not questioned. A king's word is law."
"And you would be king?" she said derisively.
I am already king. I merely require a new country to rule. My indecision is in regard to your particular country. I have more information about your world now. I must weigh immediate power of a lesser degree against a greater, true power that requires much time and effort. I lean toward great power, but I abhor being made to wait for it."
Was he just hatched yesterday? How could he not know the different forms of government to be had, and that the one he'd picked was the least suited for what he had in mind?
She didn't get a chance to ask. The rotund fellow who'd put the mayor into complete ignore‑mode said peevishly to Jorran, "You need waste no more time on this female, Eminence. I will see that she is disposed of."
Jorran gave that a moment's consideration before he replied, "No ... no, I have enjoyed the discourse, Alrid, and wish to continue it later."
"She knows too much‑"
"Get real," Brittany interrupted, afraid she knew where that line of reasoning was going to go. "I could have screamed my head off already, and had the cavalry arriving to bash down the mayor's door by now. But I'm a reporter, remember? I'd rather get an exclusive interview after the mayor makes his speech to the cameras. Everyone and their mother is going to want to know about the brains behind the puppet after that speech. Work with me, and I'll give you the best news coverage you could ask for."
"Why would you do this?" Jorran asked.
"Because it would be a huge boost to my career, which means more money for me. l´ve got a mortgage to pay, kids to feed." Bah, she was laying it on too thick. "Look, the fact is, I was getting nowhere with the article I'd planned to write, so I'd just as soon forget about that one for the real story. Fact two, you're going to need some good press coverage that you have some control over. The average reporter is going to write what they want to write about you, not what you want to be known."
"And you would write what I want known?"
"Exactly‑for a price."
Jorran threw back his head and laughed. "Greed. This I understand perfectly. I was beginning to wonder if your species was capable of corruption. My faith is restored. You will remain with us to our mutual benefit."
He had bought it. She'd be put on the payroll. Amazing. She certainly wouldn't have believed that hogwash she'd tossed his way. It had to be the greed part, right up his alley, something he was comfortable dealing with. Not that It mattered, when it was probably going to be her shortest job ever‑because she was fully expecting Dalden to take this guy out of commission before the
mayor started spouting his rod‑induced lies.
Chapter Twenty‑five
WE'VE GOT PROBLEMS." MARTHA'S VOICE CAME through the phazor combo‑unit a bit erratically.
"Your impaired speech?" Dalden said as they returned to the main lobby.
"Not just that. Something has moved into the area that is causing major interference that makes Transfer too dangerous to consider. Do you notice anything unusual?"
A quick glance around the central hall had Dalden saying, "Other than Brittany is not here?"
"Yes, other than that. Strange equipment? Electrical storms?"
"Your viewers are not working, either?"
"Only sporadically, which is unacceptable. Corth II is on his way with a few emergency essentials. He'll be a few minutes getting here, since I had to set him down out of the range frequency
of that interference. It's imperative that it be located and disabled, whatever it is."
"It is more imperative that you tell me where Brittany is” Dalden countered.
A sigh. "She's still in the mayor's office."
"Why?"
"Probably because Jorran is in there, too. Hold it right there! If you go barging in, she's liable to get hurt. At the moment, she's fine.
"I will not leave her in there, Martha."
It was said so emphatically that only a fool would try to argue -or a computer. "She's fine, kiddo, really she is. I'm not getting full conversations with this interference, but from the bits and pieces I am getting, it sounds like she's got them believing that she's Joined their camp and will be a benefit to them. Besides, he's not going to hurt her when he finds her interesting."
"I find these trees growing indoors interesting. That does not mean I would not cut them down."
"I meant interested as in bedtime fun‑hold it right there! You don't chop someone up for what they are thinking, and that's as far as his interest has gone. She doesn't know he finds her attractive. He's the type who won't reveal emotions to anyone if they could be perceived as a weakness that could be used against him."
"You have had chains on me too long, Martha."
"Dalden, sweetie," she cajoled in syrupy tones. "We are almost done here. The end of this rising should see us on our way home. Don't blow it now because you're impatient to get your hands around his neck. If it sounds like she's in the slightest trouble, you get the green light. But at the moment, we want him to think he's got the upper hand, so he'll leave here and you can then deal with him under less public scrutiny. Here, there are a good forty people or more who will jump to his defense."
"He has that many with him?"
"No, but you keep forgetting what I told you about the people in this country. They are an aggressive lot. They will interfere Just because they can."
"Not if I stun them all."
Another sigh, much longer and riddled with static. "Tedra could pull that off, but you haven't had any practice with that phazor combo‑unit. With calm, slow use and sightline up, you'd have no trouble with it, but probables say that in your rush to stun them all before they can get to you, you'll end up missing one or two and risk the chance of the beam reflecting off something and Corning right back at you. But in case you haven't realized it yet, Transfer isn't the only thing currently being affected by that local interference. Your weapon is out of order as well."
"Then what do you propose?"
"Let him get beyond the interference, or get rid of it first. And please keep in mind that you can't kin Jorran, much as you might be currently relishing the thought, or we lose the leverage for a recall on all of the rods. So the original plan still holds: disable his shield so I can Transfer him to the ship, but do it in the least crowded place so you won't be jumped by locals who think you're accosting an innocent party. The advantage is still ours, since he still doesn't suspect that we're here. Ali, that's better." A sigh filled with relief, and minus any static.
"What?
"Corth II has arrived and turned off the interference, though not very diplomatically," Martha complained. "I'll have to talk to him about threatening to break people who don't want to cooperate with him, and leaving stunned bodies all over the place. We're going to have to wrap this up, kiddo. We've got about an hour before those stuns wear off and all hell breaks loose around here."
Dalden grinned. "I will have to thank him for releasing me from your restraints."
"If I don't fry his circuits first," Martha mumbled. "But all systems are back in full operation‑on our end. And those cameramen coming into the building haven't realized yet that they've been disconnected from making a live broadcast. So it was the media transmission equipment causing‑Jorran is coming out. Show time."
"Show time?"
"Time for you to do your thing, warrior."
Quite a few people were coming out of the mayor's reception room. Dalden saw none of them until he saw Brittany and that she was all right. Jorran followed her. He looked harmless wearing local clothes, rather than his royal garb, but Dalden knew just how dangerous he could be, especially if he had a razor sword tucked into the pocket of his suit. Would he feel the need for a weapon here, or assume that the Altering Rod was all the weapon he needed?
At least a dozen people had come out, including the mayor. "How many are Jorran's people?" Dalden asked.
"Three of them," Martha replied. "The others with them are on the mayor's staff, though probables say they've all been altered. Your main concern will be avoiding any rods pointed your way."
"I win have you to counter any suggestions that halt me, as Brock did for us on Sunder when we were told to forget my sister."
"That will work, but it requires time for the correcting speech to be said, time in which weapons can be used against you. Avoid the damn rods!"
"This might help," Corth II said as he sauntered up to join them. "The emergency essentials Martha called for, just in case the interference didn't get turned off. Not exactly needed now‑except for the confidence gained in having the right equipment at hand.
The right equipment in this case was Dalden's own sword and his intricately carved arm shields. Martha was mumbling about creating spectacles, but Dalden had gone into ignore‑Martha mode as he stripped off his shirt and strapped on the Toreno steel arm shields that wrapped about his forearms from elbow to wrist. They were his only protection, but then not much more was needed with a four‑foot sword in hand. Droda, it felt good clasping his fingers around that hilt again.
"I owe you," Dalden told the android.
"Yes, you do, big‑time." Corth II grinned at him. "Just keep that in mind the next time I flirt with your beautiful lifemate."
That got him a scowl, but Martha wasn't done, and suggested in reasonable tones, "You could at least make an effort to conceal that ridiculously long instrument of death until you get close enough to Jorran to use it."
"Martha is too cautious where her owner's children are concerned," Corth II pointed out, more as a reminder for Martha, since Dalden already knew it from firsthand experience. "She cannot be faulted for that. It is against her basic programming to allow
anything to cause Tedra distress if she can prevent it. But now that the target has been located, there is no reason not to capture him with no holds barred. I'll keep others from interfering."
"No more stunning unless absolutely necessary," Martha warned Corth II.
He just grinned cheekily and replied, "I have the third confiscated rod."
"Then why didn't you use it on those broadcast people outside?" "Because we needed a guaranteed time frame, which the stunning has given us. Rod suggestions could have been countered, the machines fixed that I disabled, the interference turned on again‑"
"All right already, I get the farden point. Let's wrap this up, children.
Chapter Twenty‑six
BRITTANY WAS NERVOUS AS ALL HELL, AND BEING AFRAID that it was obvious only increased it. She'd worn a pullover sweater today with her jeans, so she could conceal the Altering Rod up her sleeve for
easy access. Since City Hall was air‑conditioned, she'd figured she'd be okay in the thick winter sweater and had been comfortable‑until she came face‑to‑face with Jorran. She was sweating now.
How did she get herself into this mess? This was no longer just helping a man she'd flipped over locate a wacko foreign thief. That had seemed easy, something anyone could have done, adventurous even. These people were dangerous. She had little doubt that the fat man's "dispose of " was of the permanent sort. This was a play for power, serious power. With that kind of stake involved, they wouldn't care who got hurt‑or died‑in the process.
And where the hell was Dalden? One of the newspeople had told the mayor they were having camera trouble, that someone had pulled the plug on their connection, so it would be a few more minutes before they were ready for his speech. That speech was going to turn this town upside down if Dalden didn't do something before Sullivan had a chance to speak.
Or if she didn't.
What would be the chance of her using the rod she had up her sleeve on Jorran before one of his two bruiser bodyguards put her out of commission? She wouldn't have to say much, just tell him to call this off, well, maybe also mention that he didn't want to be mayor‑or president, maybe even suggest that he should go home.
She was standing close enough to him to do it. He'd moved in front of her, was so close that the few extra inches he had on her was blocking a good portion of the room from her view. But then the rotund fellow named Alrid was standing Just as close to her at her back ...
God, should she take the chance, or wait and see if Dalden was in the crowd gathering behind the camerapeople? She peered over Jorran's shoulder to get a better view of the room, hoping to spot the big guy, and caught her breath when she did. He was there and marching purposely toward the gathering in front of the mayor's offices. But half naked and with a sword in his hand? A sword, for crying out loud?