Background - The Beginning of the End

The Beginning of the End "Not until I get what I came for, Jym." Jeenee's voice was set in hard determination, a tone of voice her producer, Jym Fields, knew very well. There was little to do except placate her at times like these and the worst of it was, she was usually right. Jym looked around the civic square at the heart of Capitol City and idly played with his shoulder length queue of thick black hair tied back in a short tail. The protesters were out in force. Some were milling about sharing horror stories with the others, more onlookers than participants while the close group at the center, the agitators chanted and pulled their sheep along with them. The group of ten or so men and women at the heart of the crowd carried signs a each wore a heavy flack jacket and helmet with a thick darkened visor locked in the up position so their faces could be seen. Great, Jym thought, now the rioters had riot gear. The irony Jym saw in the rabble rousers wearing armor but leaving their faces exposed and vulnerable was clearly lost on them. Whatever the cause it was hard to find an activist who wanted to hide their face. The crowd had been slowly growing for days since the first call had been made by a rival news station for the Grand Council to show themselves. Four weeks after the bombing and destruction of the council complex, though they were repeatedly reported to have survived the attack, not one councilor had been seen nor any announcement of council activity made. Some chalked it up to a need for secrecy, while others, like the growingly agitated crowd, felt that the risk was part of their job and by hiding the council was simply protecting their own skins. Jym had to admit he agreed, but not with their methods. Protests like these only got people hurt. Jym had done his own share of protesting years ago when the Grand Council had levied a complete trade embargo against the Langlinion system for their opposition to interstellar tariffs. That had been peaceable and Jym was proud of his involvement back then. "Alright," Jym said with a sigh and a frown he felt less than he showed, "but promise me you'll be careful. This crowd is going to turn and I don't like what it looks like." Jeenee flashed him one of the smiles she reserved only for him, the one that made her eyes flash brilliant and bright, and the one that made him melt inside. He could not say no to her and he prayed that no one noticed that. Of course, they probably did. They got results though. Jeenee had, with Jym behind her, won several journalistic awards and had been around Cinnhilif space and back. Jeenee turned her attention back to her slate, recording observations and working on the story she'd write to go with the live broadcast. Hovering at her shoulder, attentively watching Jeenee work, Jym survey the crowd, and the police standing cautiously before the giant steel doors that led into Capitol Hall, was her hover-vid. The floating camera was a top of the line gift from Jym's father. It's AI watched Jym and then turned back to Jeenee. "Not yet. Stay here, Sparky." The camera bobbed in midair almost as if nodding an affirmative. It had no ability to communicate with sound, but it understood human voices with startling ease and did a fair job of communicating it's attitude. It watched Jeenee carefully, perhaps, Jym thought, even taking note of her writing. Jym turned his attention back to the crowd and the central agitators who were now brandishing large pieces of overripened fruit. They were shouting something about wages and releasing the people arrested for stealing from their employers. Of course, they'd only been taking what was rightfully theirs...and surely a little more...but they'd only done so after the central government had frozen funds for wage payments and private companies had followed suit. Why should they pay if the hawkish government was not. They a saw the financial struggles and reaction of the government to be permission and followed suit. No one's actions were right on either side. One more problem to toss on the fire that was nipping at the galactic powder keg, Jym thought. A commotion behind the guards standing at the base of the wide church like steps that lead up to the front doors, steel and probably fortified against many kinds of weaponry. The doors looked ominous whether opening or closing. The four identical doors opened in unison, slowly, and came to a halt having only created a small, barely human sized, opening. They had afforded the crowd no view of the Capitol Hall interior. A barely noticeable but present hush fell over the crowd as a single head poked out from behind the leftmost door. The man, if it was a man, was wearing sunglasses and looked to have short close cropped hair, maybe even a shaved head with a very short carpet of dark hair. It was impossible to tell. He felt more then saw the other reporters present tense, watching the situation like players in a high stakes game of chess. "Sparky," he barked, "Go!" The hover-vid looked at Jym and then turned to Jeenee. It waited. Having only just noticed what was happening, she looked up from her writing, "Do it, Sparky." It did so without another moment's hesitation. With noiseless precision it traced and arc low over the heads of the crowd causing several people to look up and point. The other members of the press had been paying attention. Within moments, Jym having moved first, they loosed their own hover-vids and the race was on. There were too many news agencies for Jym to recognize any of the reporters themselves but he did recognize the competition, the drive to be first. Within moments one of the press members would scoop the galaxy. Though his identcard read producer and not reporter he shared the urge, the drive to get there first. Jym's instincts were as honed as any newsman he'd met...except perhaps Jeenee. She was uncanny, always one step ahead of everyone, even Jym. "Are you ready to go live, Jeenee?" Jym asked looking back at her. Another hover-vid had floated into position where Sparky had just been at her shoulder, "Oh, who's that?" Jeenee flashed him another brilliant smile, "I haven't named him yet." Jym rolled his eyes and feigned exasperation though her propensity for naming things was only one of the things that he adored about her, "Ok, well, get ready." Jeenee frowned at him. "I don't think this is right." "Look." Jym followed her pointed finger back to the doors of the Capitol Hall that had only partially opened. The man had emerged from the building now and was standing atop the steps of the building surveying the crowd of protesters. He watched for a long moment head turning with almost robotic precision. The hover-vids were now swarming a respectfully invasive distance from the man who paid them no attention. Jeenee looked down at her screen and opened a new display. Jym turned to look at it with her. Sparky's footage was coming through, clearly having beaten the pack. "He did it!" Jym patted her on the shoulder, "Of course he did. He's yours." Jeenee beamed and then instantly began frowning at the screen, "He's..." Jym looked closer. There was something strange about the man standing before the hall. His movements, crisp and measured, were more robotic than they'd seemed from a distance. "Android?" Jym asked. "No," Jeenee said shaking her head, "Even Merlinius isn't making androids of that quality." "I don't think anyone can," Jym said squinting to see the screen better than either his eyes or the image quality would let him. The man took a few steps forward and Jeenee tapped his face on her screen. Sparky moved closer and his zoom lens worked to focus closer. "Don't get too close, Jeenee." "Trust me." The image grew on their screen as Sparky moved closer and closer. Jym looked off toward the hall to try to get a view the hover-vid, worried that they'd soon be moving beyond even the loosest definition of journalistic propriety. He couldn't find Sparky amongst the gaggle of hover-vids and contented himself with the fact that they were at least no worse than anyone else. He turned back to the screen and watched the distance between Sparky and the man close. Now they could almost make out the weave of his close fitting tailored suit. Jeenee tapped the screen again, this time on his neck. "Jeenee. Too close." "I know what I'm doing," she hissed, "He has a new lens. He's not as close as it looks." "Ok, well, see if we can find out who he is. We're close enough we should be able to make out the pours on his nose." Jeenee laughed, "Nope." "What?" Jeenee pointed at the screen which had oriented itself to focus on the man's nose, "He doesn't have pours!" Jym rested a hand on Jeenee's shoulder and leaned close, "That’s insane." The face of the man was blank. Literally. It had features of course, eyes, nose, mouth, etcetera, but each was essentially stereotypical and perfectly regular. It was a model face. "Looks like Merlinius must have a new product," Jeenee said with a small amount of appreciation. "Look at those markings." The view had moved around to his right cheek and neck again. Close enough that they could make out every detail. The smooth skin along his perfectly groomed short dark brown hair was lightly marked. The indentations in the skin were light and would have been barely noticeable to anyone interacting with him. Only a very small amount of shadow created by the depression gave even the slightest view of the symbols presence. Jym frowned, “What language is that?” Jeenee shook her head, “I don’t know. It looks like writing but, that’s not standard Cinnhil. Maybe a code of some kind?” The characters were arranged in a line and were each geometric variations of standard shapes. Some were combinations of two or more. All were entirely made of straight lines and followed the line of his hair perfectly. The suited man stood still in front of the crowd taking it in, head moving back and forth as if methodically cataloguing the crowd. After another few minutes, Jeenee returned to her writing and Jym remained watching the figure in black. He took a pair of micro-binoculars from his jacket and put them on. They looked little different from normal lens spectacles except for their overall heft. He couldn’t get as good a look through them as he could through Sparky’s video feed but this way he could keep watching while Jeenee worked and see well enough. The roving eyes continued to scan while Jym watched. Jym tapped the corner of one of his lenses asking for another level of zoom. The microbins did as directed and gave Jym a view of the man from head to toe. That was as close as he could get. As if he’d noticed, the man from within Capitol Hall turned his head and looked directly at Jym. The panning movement of his head ceased and he remained eyes locked on Jym. Jym resisted the urge to turn away but felt a shiver run down his spine. “Jeenee, he’s looking at me.” Jeenee stood up and took the microbins, “Yes. Yes he is,” she frowned at him the microbins making her eyes appear giant, “What’d you do?” “I didn’t do anything!” “Well you must have,” she said gesturing toward the man, “He’s looking at...” She trailed off as both saw seven heavily armored policemen exit the far right door and form up around the suited man who remained facing Jym. As one the circle of armored police and the man moved forward drawing gasps and cries of astonishment and anger as they plunged into the crowed. The tight formation moved undeterred pushing aside protestors as it went, slowing down for no one. There were a few members of the angry mob who tried to disrupt the circle but received nasty blows from the knotted club each officer carried. Before they had made it halfway through the crowd it simply parted for them, the crowd loosing it’s desire to confront the violently determined circle of police. Jeenee nervously hit Jym’s upper arm with the flat of her hand, “They’re coming toward us!” Jym nodded. “I know!” Jeenee almost squealed. She dug in the bag sitting beside the chair she’d occupied writing and withdrew a lapel pin, “Put this on!” Jym took it reluctantly, more concerned that Sparky had broken some kind of Capitol policy, or rather that they had with their high flying filming. Surely though, every one of the reporter crews was as culpable for such an infraction. “That has camera and microphone in it,” she said smiling, “Try not to talk right into it, you’ll get some annoying bass artifacts.” Jym nodded but looked at Jeenee skeptically, “You think he’s coming to give us an interview?” “You never know!” she said brightly. Jym sighed, “Ok.” The group was nearing them now and were close enough that Jym and Jeenee could feel the crowd pushing back towards them from the movement. The last line of protestors broke and the first armored policemen stepped up to the little circle of news space Jym and Jeenee had created for themselves. The man flipped up the dark visor that obscured his face and regarded Jym for a long moment. He was a man. Unlike the pour-less one this man had facial features that showed the passage of time and the presence of care and worry in his life. “We need to speak to Gairland Fields,” he said flatly. Jym looked at Jeenee behind him and then back to the policeman, “My father is off world. I can speak for Fields Media.” The policeman turned around to look at the suited man who’d stepped forward and stood directly behind him. The two conversed in hushed whisper Jym couldn’t hear above the sound of the crowd. Turning back to him the policeman nodded at Jym, “You’ll do. Will you come with us please?” “Why? What’s this about?” Jym asked not intending to budge from his spot until he had an answer but knowing full well that he might not have an option. The policeman were even more heavily armed than they’d seemed from a distance though and he was pretty sure if push came to shove... “Your services are required. Do you really need more explanation than that?” Jym laughed without thinking about the large multi-barreled side arm the man carried, “Yeah. I think I do.” The armored man frowned, “Well, ya know. I don’t need to ask you to...” “Please. That is enough.” Both Jym and the policeman looked to the blandly featured man the policemen surrounded, “I apologize for the, captain’s behavior. He is understandably,” he waved around the plaza, “on edge. These are difficult times.” Jym nodded, “I understand.” “I knew you would.” “But still,” Jym pushed, “what do you need from me?” The man’s speech was as even, regular, and predictable as his face. There was no character to it, no tone that distinguished him from anyone else. Everything about his manner was completely unremarkable, and yet could pass as completely and utterly normal. It made Jym feel like he was hearing a mirage, something invisible and yet distinctly present. He turned to Jeenee who was making forward motions with her hands. He knew where she stood on the issue. Jym turned back to the man, “Alright, lead the...” He felt himself wrenched around by the arm. Jeenee was looking up at him urgently, “You forgot your lenses.” “I don’t...” “Here let me help you.” Jeenee slipped off and plamed the lapel pin camera and withdrew a small case from her pocket and opened it up. She took from it a thin piece of round plastic and placed it on his upper cheek. Jym struggled. “No no. Don’t!” Jeenee looked past Jym at the waiting police and the suited man, “He’s such a baby sometimes.” She whispered, “The microbial feet, they’ll walk it into you eye. Hold still.” “Jeenee I don...” In a split second he felt a small change and then a slight pressure on his eye, “That wasn’t bad.” She leaned forward and whispered, “You are a baby. Ok. That’s a camera and...,” she placed a small piece of transparent adhesive on his thumb nail. She squeezed his hand smiling at the men again, “...and that’s a pressure trigger. Start and stop recording by pressing there. You’ll see a green flash in your vision when recording. It’s annoying but better safe than sorry. Everything you record will come right back to me.” Jym looked down at her, “You know...you kind of freak me out.” She laughed, “Go get ‘em tiger.” Jym turned back to the men and smiled as best he could, blinking as he adjusted to the eyewear. “Is there something wrong with your vision?” the suited man asked. “No. Well...yes...I need prosthesis to correct it so I can see.” “That is strange, is it not?” Jym frowned at him, “No, it’s actually quite common.” The suited man looked at the lead policeman who nodded, “I wear ‘em.” As if closing a file and moving on, the suited man turned, “If you’ll follow me then.” Surrounded by armored police and walking with the strangest man, if he was a man, that Jym had ever met, Jym walked back through the growingly angry mob toward Capitol Hall. He’d been in the hall before, of course. Anyone remotely connected to galactic journalism had. It was the seat of power second only to the Cinnhilif Grand Council. This governing body stood on par with the government’s of large systems like Langlinion with one difference. The men and women of the Capitol Council held power over the cradle of humanity. That fact, albeit a sentimental and emotional one, gave them great power and influence. It was said that they were almost an adjunct part of the Grand Council. Most with a mind for politics followed the actions of the Capitol Council regardless of their galactic location. Unlike the Grand Council chambers before the attack, the Capitol Hall was quite ordinary. Surely it was splendid and well appointed as a seat of government but it held little aesthetic or artistic appeal that it didn’t share with most system capitols. The marble floors, ornate stone relief sculptures and statuaries were all common features and no more or less present here. Jym sat on an uncomfortable chair beside a doorway the led from one such hall. Its octagonal shape providing a place of honor for statues of Cinnhilif heroes from around the galaxy. Beyond the door beside which Jym sat was...what? He’d been left alone in this room which normally would be filled with children, adults, and tourists from around the galaxy. The hall had been cleared and closed to the public weeks ago, just after the attack on the Grand Council Chambers. Now it was like a tomb, minus the bodies. Jym waited for what seemed like an hour at least. The police had taken his com-unit and his P.I.D. so he had no way to even get some work done while he waited. His personal information device was not something he’d have expected them to take from him. For that matter, he had mentally railed at them for taking his com-unit. They were clearly suppressing information. Not a good sign, he thought. For a moment he imagined himself leaving the way he came and joining the protesters outside. Ridiculous. Those people weren’t going to accomplish anything accept bloody limbs and noses. The suited man had left him in the statuary hall with a multitude of apologies and copious amounts of thanks for accepting the invitation to join him. Before Jym could ask another question, he’d disappeared into the room beyond the very solid wood doors opening them just enough to slip inside and affording Jym no view of what lay beyond. The silence was deafening. The only sound Jym could hear in the solid marble and stone room was the faint roar of the crowd from outside. A rhythmic chanting now, as the day wore on and the protesters sought to vary their activity, lest loose interest from the shear boredom of standing around outside...accomplishing nothing. The sunlight pouring in through the stained glass above gave the room an otherworldly feel as multiple focused rays of light entered and shown down on the floor all converging on the central seal of the Capitol Council. Jym appreciated this sort of thing. Governance required process and deliberate action as well as a conscious awareness of the history that came before. The building of monuments to their history such as this room was part of that process and made the hazy past manifest in concrete terms, sometimes literally. Now, the contrast between the secretive and closed activity within the building and the carefully displayed celebration of all things Cinnhilif seemed painful. The doors opened again and the suited man returned. “We apologize for keeping you waiting, Mister Fields.” He stood before the doors which he’d dutifully closed behind him, again, affording no view of the room beyond. “It’s not a problem,” Jym said, “But my I ask, who is we?” The man considered for a moment and settled on silence. Jym smiled as easily as he could manage, “Or perhaps your name?” “An easier question,” again silence followed. “Well?” “I am an arbitrator.” “And your name?” A raised eyebrow, “If you need a form of address, you may proceed as you wish.” Jym had no idea what to do with that invitation, “So, I’ll call you Arbitrator?” “That is acceptable.” Jym looked around the hall, still not a soul visible accept for the two men, “So, what now, Arbitrator?” The Arbitrator took several steps toward Jym, “It is time for understanding. Of his many questions Jym burned to ask one in particular. Where the hell are you from?! The Arbitrator took a chair from a shadowed corner and pulled it toward where Jym has been seated and gestured for Jym to sit as well. He resisted the urge to begin sending Jeenee video now. He couldn’t communicate with her and he knew that anything he sent would be almost immediately transmitted to the network. He still needed to know what they wanted. It was what his father would do and how they’d gone about a century of journalistic documentation of the galaxy’s history. They had a responsibility to report responsibly. Jym was determined to do just that. “Unfortunately, Mister Fields, my origins must remain undisclosed. The work I do requires a certain lack of integral involvement in the situations my employers find themselves in. Do you understand?” Jym shook his head, “No I don’t.” “Suffice to say, I must remain anonymous to all. That extends even to my employers here,” he said this indicating the people within the Capitol Hall. His blandly featured face twisted itself into a smile that was intended, Jym knew, to look friendly but simply managed a profound oddity. Jym shrugged, “Well, you saved me having to ask.” The Arbitrator nodded, “Do you agree that it is the place of government to protect the interests and safety of the people?” “Of course.” “And what if their safety, their well being even, required subterfuge?” Jym’s eyebrows knitted together as he thought, “I suppose that depends on the subterfuge.” The Arbitrator nodded, “Would you not do anything to protect someone you,” he paused as if finding an unfamiliar term, “loved?” Jym hesitated. “Perhaps your reporter, Jeenee Isthland. Would you not do anything to protect her?” Jym shifted uncomfortably in his chair, “Not anything.” He waited while the Arbitrator regarded his answer and resisted the urge to squirm uncomfortably in his chair. When the Arbitrator said nothing Jym decided a more forthcoming answer was necessary. “I’d risk my life for her, for my family, for people I love. “And what about a more morally ambiguous act?” “What are we talking about here, Arbitrator?” He gave a convincingly normal shrug, “I am trying to gauge your ability to accept that which serves the greater good and yet compromises the established moral norm of your society.” “Is that what’s going on here? Is that why the secrecy and silence from the Capitol Council?” The Arbitrator nodded, “These are difficult times, as you know, Mister Fields. Difficult times mean difficult decisions must be made.” Jym smiled, “Do you know how ominous that sounds?” The Arbitrator nodded, “Yes.” “And you realize that now, if you don’t tell me what’s going on here, I’m going to be very suspicious.” The Arbitrator stood, “And the rest of the city is not? One more suspicious reporter means nothing to us.” Jym nodded, “Ok. Fair enough. Let’s move on.” The Arbitrator paused, “I am sorry, Mister Fields. This will not work for my employers. I will escort you outside and the police will conduct you through the crowd.” “What? Why?” He smiled again, that twisted forced approximation of a smile, “You are not the conduit we hoped you would be.” Jym, disappointed, shoved his hands into his pockets and glowered at the man, “Really? That’s it?” “That is it. I apologize for the time this has taken from your day.” Jym shrugged, “Suit yourself. I think my network could have helped with...whatever is going on here. But, it wasn’t meant to be I guess.” He smirked at the Arbitrator who now frowned at Jym, “Well,” he patted the man on the front of his shoulder, “Good luck. I hope you find a better conduit.” The arbitrator nodded, “Thank you, Mister Fields.” The pair walked through a few deserted rooms to the front door. Jym shook hands with the Arbitrator and exited into the sunlight immediately being assaulted by the shouts from the throng in the plaza. Astray piece of rotten fruit narrowly missed his head. The police formed up and took Jym through the crowd which was now more agitated then ever, shouting questions at him and trying to breach the armored ring that protected Jym from certain bodily harm. Once through, Jym was greeted by a clearly upset Jeenee, “That’s it!? You sent me no video. None!” Jym shushed Jeenee and thanked the policeman who’d led the squad. “Nice, going Miss Subtle,” Jym said watching them leave. “Sorry. I just...I thought you’d give me a live stream of the whole...,” Jym smiled at her and led her into the back of the parked equipment van hovering over the vintage cobblestone. Jeenee pulled away from him and grabbed her bag and equipment before entering the van with him. “No sense leaving it all out there to be stolen or thrown at the building.” Jym nodded and turned on a terminal, one of several that lined one side of the vehicle. “So are you going to explain why you sent me nothing to work with!?” Jym nodded, “Look.” The screen showed a view of the Capitol Hall doors, closed, and from the inside. The image did not move. “What is...?” “Shhh.” The doors opened and the lead policeman entered and approached the camera, “Mister Fields has been escorted through plaza, sir. One of my men was...” “Yes I know. Regrettable.” Jym and Jeenee watched the policeman flush at the cold response from the Arbitrator. Jeenee gaped at Jym, “You put a camera on him?” Jym smiled, “You’re not the only tricky one.” The Arbitrator turned from the policeman leaving him to his misery and walked back the way Jym and he had gone. He approached the two heavy wood doors in the statuary and, through them, entered a long hallway. It was white and unlike any part of Capitol Hall Jym had ever seen. It was modern. As the Arbitrator proceeded down the hall the light seemed to dim growing darker as he went. The walls changed and they watched realizing that now they were lined with conduits and pipes leading down the hall in the direction the Arbitrator moved. “What is this?” Jeenee said to herself aloud. “I don’t know,” Jym said, his eyes glued to the screen. Further down the hall, the conduits came alive pulsing with light and a fine mist seemed to come from the corners filling the hall with moisture that grew thicker until the Arbitrator reached another set of doors. These were metal and had an access pad on one door toward the center. The Arbitrator waved a hand which they saw as if looking through his eyes. The doors parted and the Arbitrator entered a stately room. Old mixed with new as flashing, pulsating conduits circled the room from floor to ceiling paired with solid metal piping that all led to the center of the room. A giant mechanical pedestal rose from the floor, a pedestal that shown brilliantly in the otherwise muted lighting of the room. A chair rested upon the pedestal to which a multitude of pipes and cables were attached. The seat allowed the occupant to sit in a semirecumbent position. “I think that’s the old Capitol Hall Chamber. It’s been closed for years,” Jym said breaking the stunned silence between the two of the. The Arbitrator bowed before the pedestal and then looked upward, “The chair’s occupant looked down at the Arbitrator with a mixture of curiosity and pain on his face, “Will he do it?” The Arbitrator’s body moved side to side momentarily as he shook his head, “No, Your Honor.” “Oh my god!” Jeenee exclaimed. “Is that?” Jym began to ask. “That’s Garm Moratoss, president of the Grand Council!” The body of the president was immovable below the neck, his arms arranged on the arms of the chair at an abnormal angle. His hands were scarred and his face, while the least damaged, bore heavy signs of reconstruction. The Arbitrator moved closer to the bottom of the pedestal blocking most of their view of the leader, “As I warned you, Your Honor, he will be more suspicious now than before.” “A calculated risk, your masters understood, Arbitrator.” “Yes, Your Honor. Shall we attempt contact with another?” “No. The Fields were the only ones worth the risk.” “Will there be anything else?” the Arbitrator asked. “Has the gentleman arrived yet, Arbitrator?” “He is waiting outside.” The council president Moratoss coughed a loose fluid filled cough, “Excellent, send him in.” The Arbitrator paused. “Yes, Arbitrator?” The Arbitrator cleared his throat, “My masters will require that you vote to allow the gentleman, entry.” Moratoss sighed, “Very well. Activate the council.” The Arbitrator approached the pedestal now and placed his palm on an access panel similar to that that had allowed him entry. The room was suddenly lit from six other similar, yet lower, pedestals, each with a chair. Jeenee nearly jumped up and down, “That’s the....that’s the whole damn Grand Council.” Jym nodded. Garm Moratoss’s voice boomed throughout the chamber, “Vote to allow entry.” At each pedestal a glowing green light shown at the foot of each chair. “Do it Arbitrator,” Moratoss commanded. The Arbitrator bowed and returned down the hallway. “How are they...I mean they’re obviously on life support.” Jym frowned watching the Arbitrator move down the hall, “That’s no life support technology I’ve ever seen.” “Technically,” Jeenee said, “they’re not doing anything illegal, are they?” Jym shrugged, “I...I don’t know.” Jeenee smacked him, “Are you recording this!?” Jym looked away from the screen to frown at her, “Of course, idiot.” That last he said with a lopsided grin. The Arbitrator approached the large wood doors leading to the statuary again. This time he opened them wide. A tall, lanky man stood up and stroked his neatly trimmed goatee with his thumb and fore finger. He regarded the Arbitrator with a knowing look, “Did they vote?” “They did, Mister Merlinius.” Angus Merlinius nodded, “Good report that to your masters.” “Of course. You know that I will, as I report all data.” “Of course,” Merlinius said, “I shouldn’t wish your masters to see my actions as...how shall we say?” The Arbitrator’s voice was cool and where it had been featureless, Jym thought he could hear a pointed criticism in it now, “Political puppetry?” “Indeed,” Merlinius said and began to walk down the hall leaving the Arbitrator behind. Jym and Jeenee stood in stunned silence watching the man rumored to have orchestrated the attack on the Grand Council walk in freely to meet them. The Arbitrator removed his coat causing the camera to take a dizzying trip. Jeenee swore, “There goes our feed.” The camera’s wild movement evened out and stopped allowing them a full view of the Arbitrator’s nondescript face, “I trust, he said, you have as much as you could have hoped for, Mister Fields.” Jeenee and Jym gasped. “My masters trust you will use this information well.” With that the video feed went dead. Written by John Nugent Jr.