Thank Kraa, Digby seemed rock-solid. The last report he had called for from DocSec had had nothing in it but the routine report of a man doing his job and getting the results he was expected to get. Merrick had had his doubts about the man. The departure of Digby’s wife to visit family in some Kraa-forsaken outpost of Earth still didn’t sit completely right with him, but to have turned down Digby’s request might have unsettled the man just when Merrick wanted him completely focused. No, Digby was his man, and he was exactly where he was needed most: on Eternity, making sure that the grab bag of ex-convicts and Feds he’d been given got on with the job at hand. It hadn’t been planned that way. In fact, his intention all along had been to eliminate Digby as soon as possible. The man simply knew too much to be allowed to go back to McNair, but given the way things were going, Merrick was happy to postpone the moment. But it was only a postponement, not a cancellation. If he’d learned anything in the viciously brutal school of Hammer politics, it was to eliminate any loose ends long before you needed to. That way, you kept control.
Anyway, enough of that.
It was still many months before the final phase of the Eternity plan, the bit that even Digby didn’t know about, could be put in place. Pity to waste all that talent, but Merrick wanted no witnesses, Hammers or Feds, to what he had begun to think of as the miracle of Eternity. He only hoped that he’d be given the time, he thought sourly as he turned his mind to the increasingly serious problem of unrest on Faith. Merrick knew that Polk was going to have a go at him over the issue, and for the first time he felt a small twinge of unease. History showed over and over that civil unrest could rapidly become full-blown insurrection if it was not handled with the right balance of brutality and concession.
And history offered one more lesson: A chief councillor who allowed a serious insurrection to go unchecked never lasted long.
Within minutes of starting, the weekly meeting of the Supreme Council had degenerated from the routine into a vicious running battle with Polk over the situation on Faith. As he liked to do, Merrick had sat back to watch the battle unfold, unwilling to get involved just yet. “Eat shit, you miserable scumbag,” he muttered as he watched Councillor Polk wilt visibly in the face of a furious attack from Claude Albrecht, councillor for foreign relations and probably the only man at the Council table he’d even come close to trusting.
“Kraa’s blood, Councillor!” Albrecht said angrily, fist pounding the table, “You know what the real problem on Faith is. It has nothing to do with heresy, not a damn thing. It’s that corrupt piece of shit Herris, and you damn well know it! How can you call it an attack on the Path of Doctrine? It’s all about corruption. Corruption, Councillor Polk, corruption. Kraa! And we know who’s responsible, don’t we? Herris, that’s who. Planetary Councillor Herris! Come on, tell me I’m wrong.”
Merrick watched with some enjoyment as Polk squirmed in his chair. The man might be a jumped-up parvenu, but he wasn’t completely stupid. He’d know what everyone around the table knew even if they weren’t all prepared to admit it. Put simply, the man charged with Faith’s administration, Planetary Councillor Herris, was an irredeemably corrupt man with very extravagant tastes. Sadly for Herris, the patience and tolerance of the long- suffering people of Faith, the people who paid his bills in the end, were beginning to run out. It was as simple and straightforward as that, and heresy had nothing to do with it.
Merrick knew it, Polk knew it, everybody around the table knew it.
But Polk was not going to concede.
“Councillor!” he spit as Albrecht’s attack finally ran out of steam, his voice dropping to a vicious whisper. “I’d be very careful if I were you. I would hate you to say something you might come to regret. Who knows,” he said, his voice silky quiet, menacing, “what the future holds.”
Merrick had to stop himself from laughing out loud. Still think you’re going to be chief councillor, do you, you useless corrupt fool? Not a chance.
Albrecht shared Merrick’s contempt for the man across the Council table and wasn’t afraid to let it show. “Save it, Councillor Polk. It’s your man, Herris. You know it, and I know it. We all know it. He’s the problem, and he’ll bring us all down if we don’t do something about it soon.”
Polk’s face reddened with rage. It was obvious he knew where this was going. “I promise you, Albrecht-”
“Enough, Councillor!” Merrick sliced through Polk’s response like a whip. “Enough,” he said, looking Polk right in the eye until the man’s head dropped in defeat. That’s better, Merrick said to himself. You can bluff and bluster all you like, but you and I both know the truth. Herris is your man and you’re his for the simple reason that your obscenely extravagant tastes are paid for by Herris, which Herris was happy to do in exchange for Polk’s protection and patronage.
Merrick looked around the Council table. Now. His instincts urged him on. This was the time to strike.
“Let us not waste any more time,” he said calmly, the faces of all present reflecting their uncertainty. Good. They knew he was up to something, but they didn’t know what.
“We have a fundamental disagreement here which I would like to resolve. And I think it should be resolved in the interests of our people. Wouldn’t you agree?” Merrick paused until Polk’s head nodded in reluctant agreement. Yes, so you should, he thought.
“So Councillor Albrecht thinks the problem on Faith is…well, how can I put it? The fault of the administration, let us say. Councillor Polk does not. So it seems to me that the best thing to do is have Planetary Councillor Herris come here to tell us why Councillor Albrecht is wrong. So I propose to summon Herris to do just that. Any objections?”
Merrick stared intently at each councillor before turning his attention to Polk. Just try to force a vote, my friend, Merrick muttered to himself, confident that Polk didn’t have the balls to take him on-or, if his instincts were right, the numbers.
Polk didn’t, and his head dropped in defeat. And everyone knew it was a defeat. Safe back on Faith, Herris could duck and dive, could maintain the fiction that Faith’s problems were the product of disaffected heretics. In person, in front of the Council, Merrick could nail him down, could wring promises from him that the situation on Faith would get better. And if it didn’t, it wouldn’t be long before Herris was on the wrong end of a DocSec firing squad, a prospect that Merrick enjoyed thinking about as much as Polk would bitterly resent losing such a key ally.
Eat shit, Councillor Polk, Merrick thought with quiet satisfaction. Think you can take me on? Think again, Polk. After months of trying, he’d finally flushed Herris out of the safety of Faith, and there was nothing Polk had been able to do to stop him.
“Good. I look forward to seeing Planetary Councillor Herris at our next meeting. My secretariat will make the arrangements. Now…ah, yes.” He paused for effect. For once, he had the Council where he wanted them, and he was going to ride them as hard as he could.
“Now,” he said calmly, “since we’re on the subject of the unrest on Faith, let me address a concern I’ve had for some time. As we all know, the Council can make the right decisions for the people of Kraa only if it has good information to work from. And I must say, Councillors, that for some time I’ve not been sure that we do have good information on what is really going on over there.”
He paused again, this time to look at the councillor for intelligence. Albert Marek wriggled in his chair, the look of sudden panic on his face almost comical.
Merrick couldn’t help himself. “Yes, Councillor Marek. Well you might look concerned.”
“Chief Councillor!” Polk protested. “Where is this going? We have a huge agenda to cover today, and we have dealt with Faith. I suggest we move on.”
“Oh, you do? Well, I beg to differ, Councillor.” Merrick stared at Polk for a moment. Of course he had to step in; Marek was one of Polk’s men, and he couldn’t allow Merrick to attack him unchallenged. But the momentum was with Merrick today, and Polk knew it, an unpleasant reality acknowledged by a wave of the hand for Merrick to continue.
“Thank you. Now, Councillor Marek, I just wanted to point out that your department’s most recent report on Faith paints Planetary Councillor Herris, well…Now, how can I put it? Almost,” he said, his voice dripping with poorly concealed sarcasm, “as a saint in Kraa’s eyes. To read your report, Herris has done nothing at all to contribute to the problems there. Once again, it seems that antisocial elements and heretics are the only cause.”
Marek tried; Merrick had to give him that. “Yes, Chief Councillor,” Marek said firmly. “That is the opinion of my people, and I stand by it.” He stared defiantly back at Merrick.
“Good, good,” Merrick said smoothly as he slammed the trap shut. “So if that turns out not to be the case,
