Ezekiel Mackintosh

Location: Capitol City, New Washington, United Commonwealth of Colonies

“…lastly, CWS Argo under Lieutenant Commander Gold was the final ship out of New Lancashire. That gives us full accountability of all surviving soldiers and spacers in the system.” High Admiral Gilmore paused the sensor recording of the Commonwealth retreat from a settled star system without putting up any resistance. It wasn’t the first time it had happened in the starfaring nation’s history, but you could count the number of times it had happened on one hand.

“What is the civilian count?” Prime Minister Ezekiel Mackintosh looked like he’d aged ten years in the last six months. He still had flecks of blue in his eyes, but those eyes were tired.

“Thanks to the assistance of Gold Technologies, other corporate entities, and the advanced warning given by Commander Gold, a little over seventy-five-thousand civilians were evacuated off New Lancashire,” the High Admiral replied.

“Advanced warning,” scoffed Admiral Theodore Garrett, commander of the Commonwealth’s Infantry, “more like extortion.”

“Ted…” the High Admiral cautioned.

“Don’t rebuke me, Xavier,” the big former Ranger growled. “What would you do if a Lieutenant Commander, whose career accomplishment was captaining a gunboat with twenty souls on board, told you to abandon an entire settled star system based upon what you had seen at an ambush? But that’s not all. He’s the only survivor of the ambush, and is bringing back unverified sensor feeds of the battle as evidence of his sweeping declaration. Then that same officer threatens to pull a sizeable percentage of your offensive firepower due to a corporate loophole in a law written hundreds of years ago. Are you seriously telling me you wouldn’t have told that crew to relieve that captain of command and lock him in the brig?” The big Admiral’s face was a little red at the end of his tirade.

“First off,” the PM didn’t miss the quick dart of the High Admiral’s eyes in the politician’s direction, “the law you’re referring to is the Charter of our existence. Second, the sensor data was confirmed as authentic, and analysis shows that Gold had some viable concerns. Should he have threatened to pull the corporate carrier group if Rear Admiral Nelson didn’t comply…that’s the real question.”

“I say we relieve him of command…at a minimum. He should be going before a board of inquiry.” ADM Garrett huffed.

“Whatever the kid may be he isn’t stupid,” Gilmore was trying to be the voice of reason. “He does have legal precedent on his side, and he’ll have the highest paid lawyers in the Commonwealth on his side if we take this to a tribunal, and then there is the court of public opinion to consider.” Gilmore thought Garrett was going to spit from the look on his face. “The Fleet and Infantry might be saying one thing as rumors circulate about what happened in New Lancashire, but civilians are consistently on the same wave length. They’re seeing a young officer ready to stand up to a career Rear Admiral, with a spotty reputation, that was about to order an Alamo-esque last stand in defense of a colony most people can’t find on a star chart. After what happened to that Task Force of Third Fleet’s, and the growing number of skirmishes with the Blockies, the last thing people wanted was more death and destruction on the holos. Hell, the word of the retreat hit the news circuits at the same time as the loss of Nelson’s offensive task force and the Star Kingdom’s betrayal. The population was hit with the news of tens of thousands of more deaths, war with another faction of humanity, and then they got to see the good-looking face of an officer who tried to stop the loss of more life. They’re calling him the Hero of New Lancashire.”

“Hero my ass,” Garrett grimaced, “the kid didn’t have to sacrifice anything. He just threatened some legal crap and ended up holding a bigger stick than Hank in the brief negotiation. If you can even call their conversation a negotiation.”

“He is the son of Thomas Gold,” the PM weighed in on the topic for the first time, “and he did sacrifice something.” Both ADMs turned to regard their superior, or at least he was theoretically in charge on paper. “To make room for the forty-thousand civilians that Gold Technologies is crediting themselves with saving, they had to dump over a hundred million dollars of cargo into space. That isn’t a lot to a corporation as big as Gold, especially when the system was about to fall, but it makes the Lieutenant Commander look like he weighed human life against a profit and made the honorable choice. In contrast, Rear Admiral Hank Nelson comes off much less honorable.”

Garrett’s sneer looked like it was permanently etched on his face. He knew Hank Nelson well, and he knew the man was a top-flight combat officer. It wasn’t Hank’s fault he wanted to protect Commonwealth interests in one of its newest sector capitols, and it also wasn’t his fault he had to face off against an enemy with unknown capabilities. It was just shit luck.

“I’m sure Lieutenant Commander Gold will be held responsible for his actions, but we have more pressing matters than the actions of one man. What is the status of Third Fleet?” The PM urged the small group to push forward with their agenda.

“Third Fleet’s mission has been a complete success.” Gilmore looked more than happy to switch topics as the holo changed to show the Yangon System and a stream of data. “We are getting daily updates now that we’ve taken control of the Launchers and altered the QE coordinates. Third Fleet has suppressed all enemy forces in the system, and is continuing the destruction of the system’s industrial base. Admiral Ward believes they have a few more days until the Blockie’s reinforcements can arrive. Two more waves of combat operations against planetary targets are planned before recalling troops and withdrawing from the system. The end result will be a Yangon System that will take more than a decade to recover.” The High Admiral smiled at the bit of good news they had to talk about.

“I want a big celebration planned for when Admiral Ward returns. We need parades, medal ceremonies for heroism during the campaign, and a media blitz to reassure our citizens that everything is well and the Commonwealth remains the predominant starfaring nation in the galaxy.” The PM knew a good PR opportunity when he saw one. “Please send Admiral Ward my thanks when you send your next set of orders to him, and extend an invitation to dine with me at a feast in his honor.”

“Yes, Sir.” Gilmore replied while Garrett rolled his eyes. The latter had little tolerance for political bullshit.

“Great.” A smile finally crept onto the PM’s face. “Connie, what time is my meeting with Admiral Nelson?” He turned around and asked his Chief of Staff.

The political strategist had three holos rotating around her as she sat in on the private meeting between her boss and the military leaders. Two were showing polling numbers and one was for note taking.

“We’re meeting him in orbit in twenty minutes, so we need to get going.” The three screens winked out and she got to her feet. She was tall, blonde, beautiful, well-endowed, and would eviscerate anyone in her path with the amount of political capital and ammunition she had in her arsenal.

“I have my marching orders, Gentlemen, and so do you.” The PM stood and returned the two salutes the Admirals gave him. The military leaders went to exit the main door, but Ezekiel and Connie went through a side door.

The Council of Representatives was in session so the hallways of the Hall of Representatives were constantly clogged with staffers, lobbyists, security, and lingering members of the media. You could always tell someone important was coming in the slightly-cramped halls by the size of the security and media entourage. When Ezekiel and Connie emerged from the side door they were immediately surrounded by a dozen members of the PM’s security force that were escorted by another four HI troopers in LACS armor. Beyond the established perimeter journalists quickly began to congregate and shout questions. Governmental transparency was sometimes a pain in the ass when you had places to be, but the PM’s team knew the drill by now. They moved quickly through the hallways, into the PM’s office, and up the private grav-lift to an exclusive landing pad. The PM’s sleek-shuttle, built by his own company, was hovering a few inches off the ground and ready to take him up to meet his honored guest.

When Rear Admiral Nelson retreated from the New Lancashire System he did so in the vessel of the alien who called itself Bob. The Kingdom’s warships had completely ignored the large, alien ship as it joined the Commonwealth task force in its run for the Launcher. During the lengthy trip from the Outer Rim to the Core Worlds, the RADM had continued to negotiate with the alien ambassador, so when they finally arrived in New Washington space they were prepared to deliver a deal for Ezekiel’s consideration.

That was one of the holos Connie had been watching. Polls had been administered to see what the citizens of the Commonwealth’s capitol thought about the big reveal of sentient alien life, what those aliens could offer humanity, and where to go from here.

“We’re showing positive results.” She answered his unasked questions once they were in the protective shell of the shuttle and rocketing up through the atmosphere. “You’re going to go down in history as the Prime Minister who made contact with sentient alien life, and who made trade with them possible.”

“That’s great, but does that help us in the short term?” The PM grabbed a nutrient-filled water from the shuttle’s mini-fridge and chugged it.

“We’re seeing a bump of two percent in your overall approval rating, but more importantly, positive responses in male citizens twenty-one to fifty-nine are up six percent.” Connie’s smile echoed the PM’s. That was his toughest demographic. Younger males didn’t see him as tough enough to lead the Commonwealth, and that was something his opponents in the Eagle Party were taking full advantage of.

“If our audit gives us a favorable exchange rate, and we can get the first shipment of products in the next three months, it will be enough to clinch victory.” The PM’s political mind was already whirling with possibilities.

Ezekiel Mackintosh was in a tough position. Sixty-six percent of the seats on the Council of Representatives were up for reelection in three months. His own seat on Haven was up, but he was confident he could retain his Representative’s seat easily. Remaining Prime Minister was the real question. The military defeats, and loss of an entire sector of space, were giving the Eagles more and more ammunition to try and bury his Progressives under negative ads. The result was any system even close to Blockie space was now in contention.

The positive economic evaluation and alien trade deal were Ezekiel’s response. If he could leapfrog the Commonwealth forward hundreds of years in technological advancement overnight, and gain the military supplies necessary to defeat the Blockies and Star Kingdom, he’d go down in history as one of the greatest Prime Ministers of all time. He just needed to make it happen.

“The auditors have arrived.” Connie informed as the shuttle broke through the clear blue of New Washington’s atmosphere into the black of space. “They’re waiting on the ship.”

“The last count I heard was we only had eighty percent of the major financial institutions signed on for the audit.” He highlighted their last big hurtle to getting this deal started.

“We’re at eighty-three percent now, and contracts are trickling in from Mid-Worlds on the far side of the Commonwealth. Most are good, but a few will require some hashing out of details, and the auditors can get to work on the ones who’ve already granted authorization in the meantime.”

“Have Mackintosh Shipping be the first company to be audited.” The PM referenced his own interstellar shipping industry. “Leading by example should make the rest of the corporations fall in line.”

“Excellent idea, Sir.” Connie typed out a few notes as the twenty-kilometer alien ship came into view and steadily grew on their view screens.

Ezekiel thought as his small shuttle slipped into the landing bay of Bob’s ship.

If he could win today, he’d win the election in a few months, win the wars, and start a trade relationship that could vault humanity to heights it never imagined. He’d be a legend, and if there was something a human wanted to leave behind after they were gone, it was a legend of success that made them larger than they were in life.

It was egotistical and a little vain, but Ezekiel was a man, and a man with a legacy was someone who kept on living long after he was gone. In his mind, that was something the people of Haven, the citizens of the Commonwealth of Colonies, and the members of the Progressive Party desperately needed right now.