Ganymede’s gilt brows narrowed. “In fact they are my assassins.”
“Regardless,” Perry plunged on, “the terms of O.S. clearly require the three of us to share with the others any agenda which might affect Hive balance. Dissolving the Cousins more than qualifies!” The Prime Minister’s breath grew fast, the ferocious enthusiasm of a speaker accustomed to being heeded only when he made it seem the sky was falling. “You set a bomb without telling us, and it’s gone off at the worst possible moment. Thanks to this theft, the whole world’s read Sugiyama’s article about Fran?ois Quesnay and the so-called failure of the Mitsubishi land-focused philosophy. Mitsubishi stocks are already showing the impact, and worse, Sugiyama’s list put the spotlight back on Ziven Racer too, which has shredded what little confidence Europe was starting to have in me, not to mention Sniper being on their list instead of Ganymede. Polar opposites or not, if the Cousins go down right now the Masons are going to seem a lot more appealing than Mitsubishi whose philosophy is doomed, Europeans with a leader no one wanted, and Humanists whose President only stays in office at the whim of a living doll with no attention span.” His hot fist slammed the inlaid cabinet behind him. “I’m calling a hit. I called the O.S. set-sets earlier to have them look for a way to deflect the press from Darcy Sok and the CFB.”
“You went directly to our set-sets?” Throughout the leaders’ conference Ockham had sat as stiff as a foot soldier before the wrathful Major, but now his stiffness grew cold. “That isn’t how this system works, Prime Minister.”
A weak master is quick to slap what dogs he can. “With Sniper missing, and you too incompetent to keep the chaos out, it works however it has to work, Saneer. Understood?”
Ockham did not answer, but his eyes flashed to his President, full of silent warning.
“Now,” Perry ploughed on, “the set-sets have found a hit that will trigger the retirement of Darcy Sok and several other CFB staff. With new people taking charge, the press won’t find it strange if they can’t answer many questions, and the consequent chain of promotions will put your Hiroaki Mitsubishi in a position to alter the most damning files.” He nodded to Andō. “If we do this, the Cousins are safe for now. If you really do want to tear them down, we can always expose them later when the public doesn’t think we’re all dirt.”
The Duke President and Chief Director debated with their eyes.
“We can’t hand the Cousins to the Masons on a platter!” Perry pressed, his words racing as if some demon chased him, tossing Members into MASON’s maw with every heartbeat’s tick. “The three of us together, even with O.S. behind us, we’re still constantly losing ground, Gordian too, and Utopia, you’ve watched them both shrinking, Census by Census, while bloated MASON swells!” He gasped a breath. “I love this Alliance, love it, and my Hive, with every fiber of my being, the best and greatest work of politics the human race has ever seen! And we, poor as we are, are its custodians. Do you really think the system can endure if the Masons slurp up the Cousins and make the Emperor dictator of a true global majority? I don’t believe this hit will expose O.S., I trust Ockham and their bash’ better than that, but even if it did, we could endure that, a blow, yes, but we few who knew about O.S. would fall upon our swords, while our Hives would live. The system would live. But there’s no recovery from the stranglehold of true majority, more and more youths will choose what seems the default path, while what other Hives remain will diminish until we’re as rare and impotent as Hiveless. We must act, now, or this—the only golden age the human race has ever seen that is no myth, no propaganda spun by its or later ages’ flatteries, this real golden age—will die in our keeping!”
On this impassioned climax Perry waited, at the edge of panting, like an actor at the finish of some famous speech. I want to say more of Casimir Perry, of the inner man, what dreams and appetites course through this heaving soul who built from nothing his stairway to power, baking each brick in the blister-fire of his determination. But he may not have been like that at all. I do not know the Outsider, as I know these others. I have not poured his wine, paced his hallways, memorized the tics of his lip and eyebrow so I could anticipate when to attend and when to cringe. I know his words, but not the man beneath, who watches now as Ganymede and Andō trade in glances their fears, agreements, counterarguments, all the subtle signals of debate which intimates need no words to share with one another. Will they heed him? Will they, in their security and condescension, think this Second-Choice Prime Minister is crying wolf?
Ockham could only hold his tongue so long. “I must advise against the use of O.S. at this time, Prime Minister. It isn’t safe.”
Perry scowled. “Using the cars now would be stupid, I agree, but Cato’s one-time-only concoctions should be as untraceable now as ever. Am I wrong?”
Ockham’s voice did not lighten. “Since I don’t know what methods Guildbreaker and Papadelias might employ, I don’t know what would be traceable or not. One does not gamble with the flagship. I don’t know what it is in the CFB that the three of you are trying to conceal, nor should I know, but it is difficult to believe it could be as devastating as the exposure of O.S. If the President gives this order, I will execute it, but under protest. Member President?”
I believe Ockham is the only person in the world who can address the Duke as ‘Member President’ and win a smile. From others it is a reminder of discomfort, of disconnect, too contemporary for this living fossil dredged back from the aristocratic days of yore by DNA retrieval and Madame’s strange education. His Grace is an exile in time, and it is madness to him that his subjects are his by vote, and not by birth or conquest. But strict, soldierly Ockham, and the absoluteness with which he almost-salutes his leader, that, at least, to this living anachronism named Ganymede, feels right.
“I agree it is a risk,” the Duke President answered, “but Perry is correct, we must consider it. There is no return if MASON takes a true majority. We must prepare means to prevent that, even if it might increase the risk of exposure. Do you agree, Andō?”
The Mitsubishi Chief Director paused, brows locked.
Casimir Perry is not a man to let a silence last. “All Martin Guildbreaker has is the alignment of some of Cato’s suicide attempts with some crashes. Cato’s own techniques are unique each time, no pattern, untraceable. The risk of O.S. being exposed because of this one hit is tiny compared to the disaster which is certain. A Masonic majority, not just in our lifetimes but this year! What was O.S. created for if not for this?”
Gazing down at the pleading European as grimly as storm-willed Poseidon, Andō gave his single, rigid nod.
Sun-bright Ganymede holds a different kind of grimness, just as chillingly divine. “Prepare for this hit, Ockham, but take no action yet. Have Cato choose a means, then look it over yourself and see what flaws you can detect. I don’t want to give this order, but I want you ready if I have to. Meanwhile we shall, all of us, try every other means we can to calm the Cousin situation, and to deflect Martin and Papadelias.”
Ockham nodded, his shoulders easing at the promise of delay. “I’ll prepare the hit right away, Member President, but I hope we will not need it.”
“You will divide your efforts between preparing this hit, and finding Sniper. All my personal forces are at your disposal, and if you want official Hive forces, request anything you like, no need to check with me.”
“Thank you, Member President.”
“Now, leave us. We have other business to discuss.”