Exiled to the Stars (40 page)

He smiled, the first full smile Vlad had ever seen from him, and he was amazed by its warmth.

"Let me begin by introducing myself," Terhoe continued. "Twenty-nine years ago, I was the Mayor of SanFran in NorAm. I did my best for the people of my metroplex, and had been rewarded by reelection three times. Oh, I made enemies, of course. There are many people in such a sizable metroplex that have, or want, power or wealth. During my three terms, I managed to irritate quite a few of them. Unfortunately, among those I angered was a political machine controlled by a criminal syndicate.

"Apparently, they spent over a year and several million credits planting evidence implicating me in a number of different forms of corruption. They were not satisfied with my removal from office; they arranged for my entire family to be declared 'undesirable' and 'recruited' for the colony program.

"My wife and daughter were raped in Dorm 19, and my son and myself beaten. My son was killed in the crash, and my wife and daughter died of the plague. I planned to suicide and join them, but someone remembered me standing up to Arheed during some of his sillier moments, and suddenly I was the Council Rep.

"I actually cried. I didn't want the responsibility; I wanted to die. But those people elected me, and trusted me. I had to do my best for them.

"You didn't know it, but Cesar and you saved my life. I saw that you were working like dogs to keep the colony going, and I realized that I still had something to contribute. I didn't always agree with you, but my votes were always made with the belief that they were
right
.

"I've been wallowing in guilt and grief for over twenty years, Doctor. For all that time, the Council and the colony have kept me going. But when Cesar was killed, I knew that my lifeline would unravel without him. And I was surprised to find that I no longer wanted to die.

"That night, I dreamed of my wife, not an unusual occurrence for me. But this time it wasn't my usual nightmare of rape or death. This time, she was angry with me. She called me a 'quitter'. She told me that the colony was my family now, and it was time to stop wallowing in self-pity and go to work for my family." Terhoe smiled and shrugged. "I dunno, maybe it was my subconscious giving me a kick in the butt. I've been thinking a lot about that ever since."

He straightened and looked Vlad in the eye. "I will not watch the Council and the colony destroy themselves. I've watched you try to hold them together, and I've seen you failing. This is going to sound immodest, doctor, but I think, with your help, I can succeed where you have failed. Support me, doctor. Help me as you helped Cesar, and I think together we can get the Council back on track.

"We have no
time
for this, Doctor," he continued. "Those natives, or whatever they are, give us a deadline. We have to get ourselves organized before
they
find
us
!"

Vlad was dumbfounded. For over twenty years, Terhoe had been a surly, uncommunicative presence on the Council. Oh, his had been a largely positive presence, and Vlad remembered him as being very helpful in motivating the colonists after the plague. But his contributions had always seemed reluctant, somehow
forced
from him.
This
Terhoe seemed a completely different person, dynamic and confident. But, could he trust him?

After only a moment, he dismissed the question. He had over twenty years of the man's voting history to judge him by, and that voting history was impressive.
This
man might be able to fill Cesar's shoes. Oh, not with Cesar's style, his self-effacing personality, but with his own, dynamic and perhaps even aggressive. Regardless, he would be devoted to the good of the colony; and without
someone
like him, Vlad was afraid the colony would fail, and Susan and Elaine would die.

Vlad rose and and walked to the man. With a brilliant white smile, he proffered his hand. "Messer Terhoe, I would be honored to work with you."

"Thank you, Doctor."

Vlad shook his head, still smiling broadly. "Just Vlad, sire. My doctorate is in robotic systems design, and I haven't done any of that in years. So Susan is 'Doctor Renko' now. I'm just old Vlad, that senile old black guy people see tottering around."

The broad, warm smile was back, though the white-maned head shook in negation. "Hardly that, Vlad. I'm Ken. And we have a lot of work to do."

Vlad nodded. "The Council meeting is day after tomorrow. We've got a lot of calling and visiting to do before then."

In the hallway outside the room, Susan Renko grinned in relief.

The colony numbered over five thousand, now, but it was still a small community; by the Council meeting, rumors were flying freely. A number of the Councilors seemed nervous as they filed into the meeting room. Ken garnered quite a few long looks and double-takes. The change in him was already obvious, even before Vlad gaveled the meeting to order.

The gavel had barely fallen when Messer Sun signaled his desire to speak. At Vlad's nod, he jumped to his feet, bowing slightly to his colleagues on either side of him at the table. "I would like to nominate Kenneth Terhoe for Council Chairman and Colony Administrator, and move that the nominations be closed." He dropped back into his seat, grinning widely.

"Hey!" said one of the Councilors. "The election is scheduled for next week. I…"

Vlad interrupted him. "There is a motion on the floor. Is there a second?"

"Second," Helen Montero, now occupying Cesar's seat, shouted. "We don't have time for a lot of politicking. We need leadership
now
!"

It wasn't that easy, of course, or that quick. Councilors seeing their own hopes slip away protested. Others raised objections. Discussions went on for over an hour. But the core of Cesar's coalition was behind Ken, and eventually carried the day

Ken strode confidently to the head of the table. Once there, he stood, surveying the faces around him. Some were hopeful, some impassive, some frowning disapprovingly, some disappointed, some angry.

"Cesar Montero was a great leader," he began. "It is due to his leadership that this colony survived the crash and the plague.

"But Cesar is gone, and we must find a way to survive without him. It is the responsibility of this council to provide the leadership necessary to accomplish that." His expression turned angry. "And we are failing that responsibility.

"These natives, if that is what they are, are the greatest threat to the colony since the plague. Yet, we learned of them over a month ago, and have done nothing but wrangle over it since. The committee we appointed to select volunteers for our Explorer training program has not even met to review the applications. Messer Wen, would you care to explain that?"

Wen suddenly looked trapped. "Why, we…"

Ken waved dismissively. "Never mind, I'm sure you'll have an excuse. You have elected me to lead this Council, and that is exactly what I intend to do. You're all familiar with the old adage that one should lead, follow, or get out of the way. Well, those are the choices every Councilor now faces." He paused. "No. That's wrong. Right now, too many of you are standing in the way, dithering endlessly or actively obstructing the Council. The choices you have now are to lead or follow. If you can do neither,
we
will move you out of the way. The Council expelled Douglas Ryles, and it has the power, and the responsibility, to remove the dead wood and the incompetent."

"Who do you think you are?" shouted a voice from the other end of the table. "Montero's people got you the chairmanship by trickery, but they didn't make you God. Everyone on this Council is here because they were elected by the colony…"

"Who elected you to
lead
." Ken interrupted, shaking his head. "Messer Perez, you are one of the people I am counting on to help this colony survive. But can you honestly tell me that you and your committee have aggressively reviewed the applications for pilot training, and are ready to make your recommendations?"

Perez's face reddened. "Well, we…" He paused, and his angry features relaxed into an embarrassed smile. "No, sire, I can't. And I'm sure I could come up with an excuse. But I'll have a list by our next meeting."

Ken nodded, smiling. "I knew we could depend on you. No, I don't think I was elected God, but, like every other Councilor, I was elected to
lead
, and now I have been elected to
lead
this Council. I hope you will all help me get the Colony back on the track Cesar Montero started for us." His face relaxed, and his tone softened. "I don't want to threaten you, and I certainly don't want to become some sort of dictator, or to initiate any drastic action. What I want is to keep this colony alive, to do whatever is necessary to ensure its survival. I want this Council to become a
team
, dedicated to the development of the colony."

Rancorous debate raged for several hours before the meeting could be adjourned. Vlad watched as the Councilors left the room. Three hurried out, red-faced, talking and gesticulating angrily. Two more left more slowly, frowning and talking quietly. The five Councilors known as 'Cesar's team' crowded around Ken, congratulating him and themselves and bubbling over with plans and ideas.

Vlad nudged Ken as Rafael Perez approached the group, and Ken turned to greet him with a smile.

Perez stood stiffly, hands on hips. "Okay," he began, "I guess I needed that boot in the pants. I guess we all did," His body relaxed slightly. "I'll help, Messer Terhoe. But don't expect me to vote a party line. If I think you're wrong, I'll tell you so, and I'll vote that way."

Ken's professional smile turned to a genuine grin. "Ken, please. And I'm glad to hear it. I don't want sycophants and yes-men. I want the support of people with the colony's welfare in mind. People with ideas and drive. I'll welcome your support, Messer Perez."

He stuck out a hand, and Perez shook it with a nod and a smile. "Rafael," he said, "Or Rafe."

By the next meeting, six colonists had been selected for Explorer/contact team training, and four recommended for pilot training. Ken got the Council to authorize the building of a hangar and the unpacking of the aircraft, some twenty-three years after Cesar had first proposed it.

By two months later, all four pilots had been qualified in all three of the aircraft types the ship carried: helicopters, ducted fan flitters, and airships. The pilots had orders not to get out of sight of the colony, so only the area for some thirty klicks around the colony had been surveyed from the air. No 'native' presence had been detected.

What
had
been detected were signs of metal ores in the low hills five klicks north of the settlement. A team of mixed Scouts and half-trained Explorers was escorting several computer-trained geologists to the area to analyze the possible resources. Ken hoped it might be possible to stop cannibalizing the ship for desperately-needed metals.

After more than twenty-three years, even the colony's small population had nearly exhausted the supplies contained aboard the ship. Only two years ago, the colony's population finally reached the five thousand that had been the ship's original complement. Early on, with only slightly more than a thousand survivors of the crash and plague, the Council had been unwilling to risk any lives by exploring, and had insisted that the colony concentrate on producing food. Over time, this caution had hardened into 'policy', and one of Cesar's major frustrations had been the Council's unwillingness to explore and learn more about their new home.

Ken was making good use of the explorers' discovery of the 'natives' to press for aggressive exploration and development.

They had complete machine shops and limited manufacturing capability stored aboard the ship, and Cesar had succeeded in getting them unpacked and set up. But the Council had flatly refused to send survey parties to explore for raw materials, so the only sources of metals and plas had been the supplies and debris from the ship.

The debris was nearly exhausted now. The colony was actually sending divers into Gouge Lake to recover precious metals long ago submerged. The ship itself had been stripped as far as they dared; they could not afford to endanger the computer or the remaining stores.

Ron Creding wiped sweat from his eyes and looked up enviously as the airship floated serenely by above him. It was the smallest one, of course. Nothing larger was needed to patrol this close to the colony.

Still, he envied its pilot. To have the freedom of the skies!

He started at the stinging slap to his butt. "Stop it!" Elaine Renko laughed. "You can't have
all
the good jobs in the colony! Besides, if that's Carlos up there, he's sitting up there wishing he were down here! How many times have you heard him wish he could be an Explorer?"

Ron grinned. "Well, maybe he wouldn't envy us so much if he was the one hiking in this heat to escort some rock jocks to a mountain!"

Elaine raised her hand again threateningly, just as a voice said, "Hey! Lovebirds! Save it 'til you get back to the colony. You're supposed to be covering our right flank."

Ron started guiltily and Elaine's face glowed red as she snapped her head to the right.

"Sorry, Chun," Ron replied. Chun Wen commanded the Scouts. He seemed unimpressed by the half-trained Explorers escorting the survey team to what they hoped was a vein of metal a pilot had seen from the airship.

"And that's 'geologist', to you tourists, not 'rock jock'," put in a grinning Francisco Wong.

He was answered by an equally wide grin from Elaine. "And that's 'Explorer' to you tourists," she retorted. "After all this effort, you'd better find something good."

Frank shrugged. "Then explore and find me something good to find."

"Enough!" Chun said. "How about finding that plains rat mound to our left?"

"Old news, sire," Tran Vanh replied. "I didn't report it because we'll miss it by a good thirty meters."

Chun shook his head. "We've found tunnels almost fifty meters from a mound. We'll swing wide."

"Yes, sire," replied a chastened Tran. Ron and Elaine began moving farther to the right, scouting for threats to the main body as they moved farther from the mound.