Page 28 of Reformation
“I suppose I have to be.”
Ten looked back once as ze followed Livia down the hall. People moved around Cody like they didn’t even see him. He didn’t seem bothered, though.
[Good luck.]
Cody sent back the mental equivalent of a wink. It would have to be enough.
Chapter fifteen
Garrett
There was an Old Earth game called chess that was supposed to be a useful tool for developing your sense of strategy. Miles played it, Garrett knew, but he’d never tried to get his son interested in it beyond the basics. Garrett knew why, and he wasn’t offended.
Chess was all well and good for a conflict that could be played out in three dimensions, but for all the bitching he’d done as a young man, for all the running away from conflict and burying his head in hedonism and trying to ignore the universe, Garrett—when he focused—played his life to win in every dimension he could think of. And there was nothing more important right now than winning. But what was his ultimate goal?
Saving Pandora, that was in there. He’d laid the threads for success, and if Miles used the information Garrett had given him, then their odds went up. It might be too late to save Jonah—not that Garrett would ever openly admit that to himself,because that would mean he’d already lost a major battle, the kind he might not recover from—but it wasn’t too late for the colony. Or for the poor, green kids being sent out to manage a situation that was almost designed to get them killed.
Saving Jonah—well, obviously that was important. Garrett might as well be saving himself by saving Jonah because there was no guarantee he was going to be able to hold his mind together, Regen or no, if his husband was dead.
Saving Cody—right on par and a major misstep for Garrett. He should have moved faster, gotten Cody in hand before he told him what was going on. But Cody had Ten with him, and Ten was the human equivalent of a flamethrower: terribly bright, often useful, and incredibly dangerous. Cody was in good company.
The other kids were with Miles, so they were as safe as they could be without causing a diplomatic incident and pulling Grennson off the ship, which he wouldn’t tolerate if it meant leaving Darrel behind.
What else here was worth saving, though? The rift between the Central System and the Fringe planets grew day by day, their respective governments so full of mutual loathing that they set up blockades to getting actual progress made—any progress—at every turn. Financial centers played games with their assets, and the people in charge passed the risk on to their poorest customers. The president of the Alliance was a dictator in the truest sense of the word, expecting perfect obedience and more than willing to kill if he didn’t get his way.
And yet, they all pretended everything was fine. Because what was the alternative? Anarchy? Civil war? The dissolution of the Alliance itself?
Possibly.
The biggest problem with that, as far as Garrett was concerned, was that the bulk of the military power in theAlliance rested in the Central System and revolved around the Academy. If that power structure didn’t change while the balance of power shifted, then what was now a nominal Alliance would turn into a system of conquest. Fringe planets would be actively invaded by Central System planets with enough ships to make their voices heard, and people would be effectively enslaved.
That was a dynamic that needed to be dealt with too. Luckily, President Alexander had already taken care of the heavy lifting by ordering the fleet away from the Central System. All that was left was to keep it from tearing the Fringe apart before Garrett could settle things here.
Garrett sent off call requests to half a dozen different people at once. They wouldn’t all get back to him quickly, but it didn’t matter—he needed time to think. He sat back in his chair, linked his hands behind his neck, and stared out at nothing for a moment.
He had to deal with Raymond. He had to deal with the military. He had to deal with the financial centers, powerful entities in and of themselves. And he had to do it in a way that meant he wouldn’t get stuck holding everything together in the end, because Garrett was a lot of things, but presidential wasn’t one of them.
“I think you could be pretty presidential if you set your mind to it, darlin’.”
Garrett frowned. “Hush.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he said on a sigh. “You’re not really here. You’re just my own subconscious projecting to me the thing I want most of all in a moment of mental weakness.”
“You’re not weak, Gare.”
“If that was true, you wouldn’t be sitting across from me right now.”
Jonah leaned forward and propped his chin up on his hand. “I don’t know about that. Seeing people who aren’t actually there isn’t the worst thing as coping mechanisms go.”
“Well,Ithink it’s pretty bad. Or don’t you remember how I get when my brain chemistry is off?” Garrett chuckled. “Of course, you do, because you’re a part of me. This is a bad road to go down.”
“Then go to the nearest autodoc and let them adjust you,” Jonah suggested. “Get that brain chemistry wrangled back into submission, and you can go back to your thinking and not missing me.”
“I’d miss you either way.”
“And you get to see me this way.” Jonah smiled. “So why not run with it, darlin’?”
