Warden: A Novel (44 page)

“Before he died,” the soldier continued, “General Malves ordered all of our forces in the city to lay down their arms and begin fighting the fires. But that would be much easier if your troops stood down as well.”

Barent nodded back at Sergeant Dura—following the conversation closely from behind him—and he issued the necessary orders over the comm.

“What’s your name, soldier?” Barent asked the man.

“Commander Cernes, sir.”

“Commander, please finalize the cessation of hostilities with Sergeant Dura, and then I want the two of you to coordinate our combined personnel and resources to get these damn fires out.”

“Yes, sir.”

Behind Commander Cernes, Barent noticed that the blockade was already being dismantled. The Collective soldiers were using their vehicles to push everything off to the side of the road, opening up the street. When it finally became passable, the people of Le’sant joined the Collective troops, along with the Olin and Exiles, to begin fighting the nearby fires.

As word of the ceasefire spread, emergency vehicles started rolling out from where they’d been stationed across the city—ambulances and fire-suppression platforms rushing toward the many scenes of destruction. The sound of sirens replaced the staccato of gunfire as the citizens of Le’sant worked together to save everything they had.

Tana and Barent stood side-by-side in the command post as those abrupt changes in priorities unfolded, watching as Sergeant Dura and Commander Cernes directed their respective resources to the parts of the city with the greatest need. Dura stood up a little straighter as a report came in over his headset, and then he turned to look at Barent.

“One of the Olin just found S’to’s body in the Middle District, sir. They said it looked like he put up one hell of a fight before they took him down.”

“I think we’ll hear a thousand such stories by the time we count up all the dead,” Barent replied. He tried to keep the morose tone from seeping into his voice, but with so many people killed, it was impossible. “Still no word on Golen?” he asked Dura.

But Commander Cernes answered instead. “No, sir. And General Malves was quite specific with me that the minister be brought to justice. The general told me Golen’s crimes are detailed right along with his own in the final testament I gave you.”

Barent patted the pocket where he’d placed the disk, making sure it was still there. He knew there would probably be many trials in the future based on the information contained on it—tribunals and committees galore—along with all of the political strife that comes with forming a new government. And all of
that
turmoil would be in addition to the short-term food and housing problems they faced, and the long-term solutions they’d have to devise to meet the ongoing needs of the people. But as Barent watched the reports come in indicating that everyone was working together to save the city, regardless of faction, he believed that one way or another, it was all going to be okay. A lot of hard work lay ahead of them, no doubt. But it would be done right this time. He’d make sure of it.

Barent turned around and looked toward the center of the city, peering through the flames and wreckage. Now that it was relatively safe out, people were leaving their homes to witness the destruction left behind by the war. Some of them joined in to help put out the fires, or aid the injured. But others just stood there, dumbfounded—unable to process what they were seeing.

Barent was having his own difficulties coming to grips with it all.

Torvus’ sun was beginning to peek out over the horizon, sending the first tendrils of dawn stretching across the city. The snowstorm building over the last few days had subsided sometime during the night, and even the omnipresent fog that normally blanketed the crater floor was gone, leaving the sky remarkably clear.

Except for the smoke.

As the sunlight grew brighter, Barent noticed a small group of people going from body to body in the street, joining the medics and helpful citizens trying to determine if any of the fallen were still alive. But the new arrivals weren’t medical personnel, Barent noted, they were scribes for the Vade Mecum—seeking out the mortally wounded to record their final testaments. He knew they would collect the names of the dead as well, so they could check the datanet and the Vade archives for any previously written testaments. The scribes didn’t normally include pre-prepared statements in the Vade Mecum. They believed such testaments didn’t possess the required clarity of thought—the wisdom that the immediacy of death brought. But they sometimes made exceptions, and Barent thought this horrific loss of life certainly qualified as
exceptional
.

Watching the scribes go from body to body only reinforced Barent’s sense of what they’d lost in the war; the knowledge that each of the dead now carried to the grave, gone forever. And the fewer hands they’d have to help rebuild the city.

He couldn’t help but wonder if it was all worth it.

Tana followed his gaze as Barent surveyed the carnage. And then she looked up at his face, easily deducing the question plaguing his mind. “There was no other way, Barent. You have to know that.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to convince myself,” he replied.

“Sergeant Barent,” Dura said. “They found Minister Golen. He was hiding in the subway system below the Central District.”

Just like a rat,
Barent thought.
It figures
,
the one person who deserved to die in all of this is still alive.

“The Collective army is holding him at the Ministry building,” Dura continued. “What are your orders?”

“Keep him isolated,” Barent said. “And get some of our own people there as quickly as possible.” He pushed the weariness from his voice and met Dura’s gaze. “And you might want to make sure there are no Wardens on Golen’s guard detail, Sergeant. And
definitely
don’t leave any of them alone with him. I want to see that bastard live long enough to pay for what he’s done.”

“Yes, sir. I agree…on all counts. Renik has a force nearby; I’ll send him.”

“Do you really think one of the Wardens would kill Golen?” Tana asked.

“I’m not that far from ordering it myself,” Barent replied. “But it’s up to the people of Le’sant to decide what to do with him.”

Tana’s mind conjured up unpleasant memories from the past—of the Collective murdering Sri, and finding her cold body on the floor with the two Wardens. She also recalled the fear she’d felt as they relentlessly pursued her and Barent across the city, doing their best to kill them.

“I know how I’ll vote,” Tana said.

“And you won’t be alone in that, I’m sure,” Barent replied.

He grabbed Tana’s hand and led her toward the street. “Let’s go see what we can do to help,” Barent told her. He turned back to Dura as they strode away. “Call me on the comm if you need me, Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir,” Dura acknowledged, and then he yelled out after them. “Sir, wait! Let me arrange an escort for you.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Barent replied.

He made a sweeping motion with his arm, indicating the destruction to the city…and the bodies.

“Take a good look around, Sergeant Dura.”

“I doubt that anyone feels like killing anymore.”

Sergeant Barent paused outside the door before opening it, steeling himself for the coming encounter.

It had been nearly a week since the coalition took the city, and though some of the larger piles of rubble still smoldered, the last of the destructive fires had long since been extinguished. The bodies left behind by the struggle were gone now as well, lifted from the streets, and pulled from the remnants of wrecked buildings. But despite the progress they’d made there was still much work to be done—months’ if not years’ worth of cleanup and rebuilding. And though those efforts were vital to the city, and an important part of the overall recovery of Le’sant, they weren’t what was occupying Barent’s mind today. He was focused on another process, one that was only just beginning. And that task—the last
real
battle of the war—waited in the room just beyond. Barent pushed the door open and reluctantly went inside.

A few of those seated around the long rectangular table began to rise as he entered the room, but most of them did not—instead staring at Barent in open defiance. He witnessed the full range of emotions on their faces, but chief among the expressions were hatred, and fear.

“Sit down, please,” Barent directed, and then he took a position at the head of the table and remained standing. He looked out at the group of approximately thirty people waiting to hear him speak, noting the reassuring glances from Sergeant Dura and Renik as their eyes met his. Even Commander Cernes seemed eager to get this all underway, but not the other attendees. They all radiated differing degrees of distrust and resentment, and Sergeant Barent was their unmistakable target.

And they’re about to despise me even more,
he thought to himself.

“Thank you all for coming to this emergency meeting,” he began. “I won’t rehash what’s already happened; I think we all know the circumstances well enough. I’m here to explain the plan going forward, and I think the Collective representatives in particular will find it all very interesting.”

A few of the representatives squirmed in their seats at Barent’s pronouncement, because they knew that
interesting
for him, meant trouble for them.

Barent had spent a great deal of time over the last few days carefully reviewing General Malves’ final testament—a long and detailed document it appeared he’d been working on for quite some time. The Wardens used the information in it to seize and imprison members of the Collective who’d worked alongside Minister Golen, helping him commit atrocities against the people of Le’sant. Unsurprisingly, the majority of those representatives had been from the Central District, and the power they wielded grossly disproportionate to the size of their constituency.

The remaining members of the assembly—those at the meeting today—were still guilty in Sergeant Barent’s eyes, as their inaction had also caused grievous harm to the people. But their crimes simply hadn’t risen to the level required for imprisonment.

And besides, Barent had other plans for them.

A woman he recognized as Representative Belan spoke up. “Haven’t you done enough to us already, Sergeant Barent? You’ve sent the downtrodden and those displaced from the Common Ring into our
homes
. The Central and Middle Districts are overrun with—”

Barent slammed his fists down on the table and the impact echoed throughout the room. And then he glowered at Representative Belan. She saw the rage in his eyes and shrank back in her chair.

“Overrun with what?” Barent snapped forcefully, disdain and anger dripping from his voice. “They are
people
, Belan. Just like you. No…better than you. Because despite the opportunity this war gave them to loot and raid the city, they helped fight the fires threatening to consume it instead.”

Barent strode around to Belan’s side of the table. And then he leaned down, placing his face mere inches away from hers. “And where were you while the city burned, Belan? While others fought and died in a war to free themselves from the oppressive policies you condoned? I hope the view from your skyrise was adequate.”

Barent leaned back again, adopting his full and imposing height, and then he returned to the head of the table. “Your luxury apartments were not designed as such; they were meant to house four times the number of colonists currently using them. I would suggest that if you want your accommodations back, then you’ll build many new homes, spreading the city out as much as needed to accommodate the growing population.”

Barent smiled, and his expression sent a chill through the Collective representatives.

“And this all ties in nicely with my plans for the future. In a month’s time, we will hold a general election in Le’sant. A new group of representatives will be ushered in to fill the voids left behind by those in prison—and to take your own seats if the people find you unworthy. The downtrodden, and the other refugees currently residing in the inner circles, will be
voting
in those districts as well. So I suggest that you start addressing their grievances now, or in a month, they’ll elect someone else who will. After which, you might find yourselves living in a new part of the city—much further out from the center. In places that will most assuredly expand your social horizons.”

Barent watched as the shock of the news spread around the table, and then one of the representatives looked up, asking him in a subdued voice, “And what about you, Sergeant Barent? Do you mean to rule us as a king, then?”

“I don’t mean to
rule
you at all,” Barent replied. “This current government is only temporary—an administrative tool already in place that can help organize the reconstruction of the city. It will be up to the people of Le’sant to decide what form the new government takes, not me. My suggestion would be a limited one, with major policy decisions determined by a majority vote over the datanet. Between implanted datalinks, and the public and private terminals, every citizen would be able to participate equally. And each person
should
vote for the issues themselves, not delegate that right away to some representative to vote as he or she sees fit. I’m convinced that choosing others to make your decisions for you, and then hoping they do what's right, isn't the best way to go about things. It’s a system inherently susceptible to abuse, as we’ve seen with the Collective.”

Most of the representatives avoided Barent’s scathing gaze, looking at each other, or down at the table instead.

“In my country back on Earth,” he continued, “my original country, we only used elected representatives for the day-to-day business of government…for crafting the minutia required to put the larger decisions into action. They enacted regulatory rules, and minor laws that everyone agreed needed to be put into place. But for major policy decisions, ones that affected the entire country, we held a nation-wide vote, in which everyone participated equally. We didn’t have a representative democracy, where others make decisions in your stead; we employed a direct model, where each individual citizen has their own say on the issues. I will
strongly
suggest that something similar be adopted here in Le’sant.”