Order of Magnitude

LXVII. Political Theater

     Sloane eyed the Assembly from his position behind his podium. The rest of the assemblymen filed in, talking amongst themselves. Talking about him, the Prime Minister guessed. His Sloane Act was in trouble, and a special session of the council had been called to discuss it. Since he'd structured the bill himself, he felt obligated to come defend it. He couldn't deny that things looked grim, but this was going to be his signature piece of legislation. His legacy. Its fate hung in the balance with this one session, and he planned on fighting like hell to keep it intact.

     Barrimore Kane sat behind his desk, a coin balanced in his long, black fingers. Sloane stared at him, willing him to look in his direction. Kane had been the one to call this assembly. He anticipated a lot of tired rhetoric coming from him during the session, the least he could do was give him a smug smile to kick it off. No matter how much Kane fought against him, Sloane sat in the Prime Minister's seat, not in the Assembly. It felt nice to remind him of that every now and then.

     The Assembly finished their general milling about that took up most of their meetings and sat at their seats. The cameras that Sloane insisted on during his last meeting had been removed, along with the make-up crew. This session wasn't about swaying the general public, it was about "healing the nation"—an annoying phrase invented by Kane that probably sounded good as a sound bite but had no practical applications. It didn't matter anyway. The cowards in the Assembly wanted a scapegoat, and they chose him.

     Kane stood, did an audible roll call of the Assemblymen in the room—they'd all shown up, but he always played the sessions by the book—then addressed the members of the chamber"

     "Ladies and gentlemen of the Assembly," Kane said to the Assembly, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "We all know why we're here today. The so-called Sloane Act has become an economic disaster for our country—"

     "You people are insane!" Sloane shouted. "If you want to be safe, you have to be willing to pay the piper. Nothing can put a price on security!"

     "Mr. Sloane, please," Kane continued.

     "That's Mr. Prime Minister to you."

     Kane glared at him. "For now, maybe. But our session today is two-fold. First, we will evaluate the Sloane Act, and consider its dissolution. Then we will hold a vote for the adoption of Bill 1028, the official removal of our Prime Minister from his office."

     "You're going to try to get rid of me?" Sloane scoffed. "You can't do that."

     "Bill 1028 will allow such a process."

     He slammed his fist on the podium. The noise echoed like a gunshot around the chamber, drawing gasps and disapproving clucks from the Assembly.

     "Never, never in the history of our country has a Prime Minister been removed from office by the Assembly in the middle of his term."

     "Well, these are unprecedented times, Mr. Sloane." Kane punctuated his statement by tossing the coin from between his fingers to his desktop. It rattled, giving the chamber—and Sloane himself—a moment to digest the information.

     "You know what?" Sloane said. "Fine. Announce your little bill if it makes you feel better. It won't be passed. And when it fails, not only am I going to personally fire you from this assembly, but I will do all I can to hang you for treason. You and every member of this council who votes in favor of it!"

     Barrimore Kane did not flinch, did not crack, did not register a word he said. Instead, he cleared his throat. "Mr. Sloane, your idle threats will not interfere with the decisions of this assembly, nor will it help defend your Sloane Act. We must approach these matters with an unbiased and professional—"

     "The Sloane Act is the most important piece of legislation that's ever been passed in this chamber!" Sloane shouted. "I'm trying to keep the people safe! What are you doing? Trying to sell them out like lambs to the slaughter for a group of terrorists!"

     Kane continued, louder and more arrogant than ever before. "The Sloane Act, along with its namesake, has been a detriment to our economy, along with our military readiness and education. Citizens are losing faith in our government. At this point, the only way we can pull up from this tailspin is to eliminate the program immediately."

     "Without a Parve Patrol, we'll be defenseless."

     "We're already defenseless. Our military budget is at an all-time low, slashed to make room for a group that has not yet even been trained. The people have sacrificed a lot for this program, and they haven't got a single thing to show for it."

     "That's because the people of this council have done nothing but stand in its way." He rose to his full height, looking down at those seated beneath him. "Let's put all the cards on the table. This isn't about the cuts to our education system or our security. This is about jealousy."

     Kane blinked twice, the only reaction he'd ever seen from the man. "Excuse me?"

     "You heard me, Kane, you're jealous that I won the office of Prime Minister and not you. This is pettiness of the highest level if you ask me."

     "Mr. Sloane!"

     "That's Mr. Prime Minister!"

     "Fine. Mr. Prime Minister! We are neck-deep in the biggest financial meltdown in the history of our country. Do you not accept at least some responsibility for the crisis you've created?"

     "The market fluctuates all the time. It has nothing to do with my bill." The assemblymen gasped and talked amongst each other. Sloane pounded his fist on the podium again, hard enough to sting his hand. "Shut up!"

     "Mr. Sloane!"

     "If I have to tell you one more time, just one more time, to call me Prime Minister, I'll hang you whether your bill passes or not!"

     As his voice reached crescendo, the far wall of the assembly chamber blasted inward. Bits of plaster and wood showered the room, drawing screams and cries from the assemblymen nearby. Sloane ducked down, keeping an intermittent watch from behind his podium. The member nearest the far wall—someone named Henning who'd only been elected a few years ago—became buried by the thick smoke pouring in from the new hole.

     Later, Sloane would remember him as the first casualty of the invasion.

     Soldiers burst into the room, guns drawn, wearing blue and red camouflage-patterned uniforms. They surrounded the assemblymen on both sides. A few enterprising members in the chamber fled from their desks and ran for the door. Their efforts earned each of them a bullet in the back.

     One of the soldiers stepped forward. On his lapel, he wore a strange insignia, consisting of three half-circles arranged in a line. He looked ragged, with a scraggly beard and fresh scars and bruises stamped on his face. He put his hand up and spoke with a heavy accent.

     "Who is in charge here?"

     Fightin' Gerald Sloane shrank further behind his podium.

     "He's the Prime Minister," a panicked voice said. He recognized it—without surprise—as Barrimore Kane.

     Of course Kane would be the one to sell me out.

     Sloane stood with his hands up. The soldier smiled and offered his hand. Sloane remained unmoving.

     "Ah, Mr. Prime Minister," the soldier said. "My name is General Leopold." He unfolded a piece of light-blue paper and read from it: "Congratulations, you have the honor of joining the kingdom of the venerable Queen Evangelina. Your military strength is insignificant next to hers. We ask that you surrender your forces peacefully or you will be destroyed. All hail Queen Evangelina."

     The Prime Minister nodded and surrendered.