Chapter Twenty-Four

Arthur sat waiting for the call that would end his time aboard Audacity. He had sat here waiting for it for the last two months, as the shuttles drew ever closer to sealing his fate. Kei was convinced that they wouldn’t call until the last possible moment, to keep them hoping that they might be allowed to stay. That seemed needlessly cruel to Arthur, but he had heard similar stories from other corporations’ delegates.

Nano Dex wasn’t the type of company to pull tricks like that, he told her. But he wasn’t sure he believed it himself – he had only been with the company for Audacity, and if they were going to pull out entirely they would have no use for him. It didn’t matter how much the top executives liked him (although he really had no idea if they did), it would almost certainly be more profitable to end his career here. He and Cristian, now firmly reunited as drinking buddies and allies, had gone down the list of companies who had seats and might rehire him, but it was a vanishingly small list. It was the same problem he had faced after losing the election back home – when the consensus is that you’ve peaked, there’s nowhere else for you to go.

Audacity had been a second chance, and now that was being taken away from him. Their silence was even more infuriating than any tirade could have been – it kept him up most nights, waiting for a message that refused to arrive. He even had the Service look over his device to ensure it was receiving messages correctly. It was, in short, driving him crazy. And now, here he was again, waiting.

There was a knock at his dormitory door. People rarely visited him here, and it was a mess, so as he scrambled out of his chair and called out “Just a second!” he swept a huge pile of bottles and cans off the desk, where he thought there was a bin. There wasn’t, and the rubbish all clattered to the ground. He swore and heard laughing from the other side of the door. It sounded like Isi, a big braying laugh that he made no attempt to hide despite the lateness of the hour. Arthur sighed and opened the door.

“Everything okay?” Isi asked as he stepped through the door. Arthur closed it behind him.

“Yeah, just…” he gestured lamely at the detritus now cluttering his floor.

“You should see mine,” Isi said, “It’s a warzone. Like being back at university.”

“What do you need, Isi?” Arthur said. He didn’t know if he was in the mood for company.

“I’m just thinking,” the other man said. “I’m waiting in my room for the call to come – I know you’re doing the same thing, we all are. But I think it should have come by now.”

“Kei thinks -“ Arthur started.

“I know what Kei thinks,” Isi waved his hand dismissively. “She’s a good kid, but I think she needs to spend a little more time listening, know what I mean? So I’m thinking the call should have come, and the fact that it hasn’t means they haven’t decided to sell yet.”

Arthur felt hope rising in his throat and tried to quash it, as he had done every time the possibility raised itself. He knew Isi wasn’t done talking, and decided to let him monologue for a while longer.

“I’m sure the board is split, I’m sure of it. Which means we’re not out, but they’ve gotta make a decision next week. So we have a week to change their minds. We’ve got to take another gamble.”

Arthur couldn’t help himself. “Like the last one? Because I don’t know if you remember, but that ended in us being humiliated and the Vice President resigning. Shortly followed by, you know…”

Isi waved his hand. “Cause and effect, yeah, yeah. But it’s our only chance. You want to stay up here, don’t you? See out the term, maybe take another after that?”

Arthur just nodded.

“Right. So here’s what I’m thinking. We can do the same thing as last time – prepare a weapons sale and push through a title to allow for it. And we can use the President’s offer to support one Edo title. That should give us the votes we need, no blackmail or secrets necessary.”

Arthur stared at Isi and wondered if his boss had lost his mind. “Isi…” he started, not quite knowing how to explain the many flaws in his plan. “You know they already passed a bill to make that illegal, right? We can’t overturn that bill and introduce a new one in a week – hell, I don’t think we can do that at all.”

“I thought of that,” Isi assured him. “And I think there’s a loophole in the old title. I’m thinking that the new sale isn’t for weapons but for weapon designs.”

“Will that work?” Arthur said.

“I’ve looked over the finished language, and I think so.”

“Huh. Designs – well, we definitely have those. Easier to sell, too. But still…”

“What?”

“Even if you can put this title forward, and it doesn’t conflict with the last one, then you still need to get the President’s support. And Sai has been pretty clear that all the delegates from Edo will need to agree on the bill to get their support.”

“If the machine thinks they can get all of our delegates to agree on something, they’ve clearly not been paying attention. But I think I can get enough of them on our side, because they’re going to benefit too. Iridesoft, Zec-Inc, all of them – they can sell their own designs if they want. We can’t get an exclusive deal like we wanted last time, but I think the board will go for it.”

Arthur remained unconvinced. “Okay, but will Garden go for it? I mean, do they need all those weapons?”

“That’s the smart part. We’re not selling to Garden.”

“Who are we selling to? Not Herald?”

“Oh no – we’re going to sell to Audacity.”

“I… what?” Arthur said, momentarily stunned.

“This is the smart part. Everyone up here is terrified, running for their life. And the station will be fine, new delegates will come in, no problem. But they’ve gotta feel safe. So we’ll sell them our void-friendly designs, kit out the Security team, bam. Everyone’s safer and we make a lot of money.”

“So you’re going to take the money from our budget?”

“Right. The Security budget is going up anyway – like I said, everyone’s scared as hell – so why don’t we get a piece of that pie?”

Security were armed already, of course, but the weapons they had were simple stunning devices – they couldn’t kill people. “I think that would make people feel less safe,” Arthur said. “Not to mention that the guns we make might blow holes in the station.”

“We’ll let the techs back home handle those details, man,” Isi said. He had apparently already made up his mind. “This is our ticket to stay on board the station! I’ll write up some details for you.”

He clapped his hand on Arthur’s shoulder and practically skipped out of the door. Arthur decided to go to bed and handle this in the morning.

***

The morning came and Arthur was disappointed to find no clarity had emerged from sleep. He understood the logic of Isi’s plan, but it was so similar to a plan they had already tried, and failed miserably. Besides which, there was something else wrong with it that he couldn’t quite figure out. It gave him a slight headache trying to work out what bothered him, factoring in as many outcomes as he could. He pulled up his list of delegates and tried to sort them into voting blocs. Over the term he had met every single one of them, and he had a talent for putting faces to names. Guessing at their motivations was harder, but as he went through name after name he had to admit that Isi had hit on a basic fact of human nature – when people were scared they would vote to try and protect themselves.

Meanwhile, things moved fast that day. Isi had already drawn up a title (“A Bill to Allow for the Sale of Intellectual Property Designs and Schematics Between Earths and the Audacity Station”, neatly avoiding the mention of weapons at all), and was taking it around the other Edo delegates. He sent Arthur regular updates on his progress, and quickly had more than half of their planet’s delegation on board. When Arthur asked how that was possible, Isi explained that most of the people he had approached first had already been fired by their corporations, and didn’t much care to protect their interests now. Whether they made weapons or not didn’t matter, and perhaps showing some cooperation with Nano Dex might land some of them a position back home.

The chances of getting the President’s support seemed to be increasing by the minute. Still, that something poked at Arthur, some flaw in the plan that was just outside his blind spot. He decided what he needed was a fresh pair of eyes, so he requested that Cristian meet him in Luna. It wasn’t yet night cycle, so the bar was closed, but Arthur managed to convince Manny to let them in to talk privately.

He explained the plan to Cristian. Perhaps Isi wouldn’t like him to be revealing it before the title was submitted, but since Cristian was the Vice-President now he would know soon enough anyway. Once he had described the title and Isi’s plan to score the votes, he added “But there’s some issue with it. I know there is – it won’t work, but it’s just a feeling. I can’t see why it won’t work. He has the votes, I’m sure, but there’ll be consequences to it that I can’t…” he trailed off as he saw Cristian’s face, which had gone pale. His mouth was hanging open in shock.

“You can’t see what’s wrong with it?” he said.

“No, that’s the issue,” Arthur replied. “And that’s why I’m talking to you – you’re smart, you can probably figure it out. You mean, you can see it?”

“Of course I can – it’s wrong!”

Arthur was about to instinctively dismiss this as obvious but beside the point, as such arguments were usually dismissed. But as soon as Cristian put it into words he realised that the Carmen man was right.

Cristian continued. “Filling this place with weapons goes against the whole ethos of the station, Arthur! I mean, seriously, what are you thinking?”

“No, you’re right,” Arthur hastened to add. “It would create more danger, not less. We need to protect the station but armed security guards on every corridor…”

“Exactly. Honestly, no offence intended here, but Edo is the only Earth I can ever imagine supporting this.”

“Oh. I forgot to mention – the President will be supporting this too.”

Cristian actually laughed. “Like hell they will. Sai would never… oh.” Arthur saw the penny drop.

“Not to mention, I think some of the others might go for it too. I mean, it’s perfect timing. We’ve just been the subject of a brutal attack. Nearly half of the delegates are leaving, and the other half must feel totally unsafe knowing that Security failed. I think they can find a majority, and I don’t even think it’s close.”

“You might be right. But we can fight that,” Cristian said. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I have a little sway in this Parliament too. Besides, if they’re expecting Edo to sell the designs they still need someone to do manufacturing. Carmen’s the obvious choice, so if I put a word in with Control, ask them to declare that they won’t do it, then…” Cristian kept talking but Arthur tuned him out. He desperately wanted to work with Cristian on this – he didn’t want to drive a wedge between them again. But he couldn’t, and once he stopped planning long enough to see the look on Arthur’s face Cristian could immediately tell why.

“Oh,” Cristian said. “You… you’re not going to do this.”

“I can’t,” Arthur said. “I wish I could, and of course you’re right… but it’s my corporation. If I don’t support this thing wholeheartedly I’m out. Isi’s right about one thing – this is my only chance to stay aboard the station. They’ll take my seat away otherwise.”

Arthur could tell Cristian was angry. More at the situation than at him specifically, but he was the one there in front of him. There was something else on his face too – hurt, perhaps.

“I’m sorry,” he said, knowing it wasn’t enough. “I’m with you, but I can’t vote against this thing.”

Cristian was about to say something when both their devices gave a bleep! from inside their pockets. Arthur pulled his own device out of his pocket and saw a message from the President. It confirmed that the title had been introduced and would be voted on in three days.

On the first morning, Isi and Kei excitedly gathered Arthur up as he was heading to breakfast, and before he knew it he was pushed into a multipurpose room and onto a sofa.

“Big news!” Kei said, a broad grin never leaving her face. “The board… love our idea!”

“What?” Arthur said, still half-asleep. He rubbed his eyes.

“It’s true, the message came in last night,” said Isi. “They think we’re on to something, they love the work we’re doing, and get this. Kei, read him the thing.”

“Oh, sure.” Kei retrieved her device and began to read from it. “They said “We look forward to your continuing efforts throughout the remainder of the term.” They’re keeping us!”

She thrust the device into Arthur’s face, so close that he had to squint and still couldn’t make out any of the words. He tried his best to look pleased as the other two practically paraded around the room.

“Oh come on, man,” Isi said, “this is what we wanted! It worked, it’s our ticket to staying on Audacity.”

“Yeah,” Arthur mumbled. Cristian’s words from yesterday were still ringing in his ears. “Thanks for thinking it up, Isi.”

“Oh man, don’t worry about it. This was a team effort! Now come on, we’ve gotta go win some votes. Kei, you can handle the Garden group; gauge their reactions, then come back and we’ll make a game plan for them.” Kei nodded, ready for action. “I’m going to handle Herald – see if I can’t get a private conversation with the King, that could be pretty handy. Although they’re supposed to elect their station leader too, so maybe I can use that as a wedge. Speaking of, we have to think about the Edo leadership contest. Arthur, any interest?”

Arthur nodded without thinking, still not entirely with the current conversation. Realising what he was agreeing to he hastily said “Oh – no, I don’t think so.”

“You sure? I think we could get the support, and I don’t really want it myself.” When Arthur shook his head, trying his best to affect nonchalance, Isi turned to Kei. “How about it, Kei? It’s going to be competitive, but…”

“I can do it,” she said. She seemed confident and spoiling for a fight now that her future was secure. As they filed out of the room Arthur knew it was too late to raise his issues with the title. It was full steam ahead, and if he tried to slow it down he would only be left behind.

Normally it would be Arthur’s job to handle the Earth: Carmen delegates, but since Sai had agreed to support the bill that was already mostly handled. Instead, Isi asked him to shore up the home turf. “We want as close to fifty Edo votes as we can get,” he said, “and a few private audiences with you will get us there. You’re still kind of a celebrity to these people, you know?”

Arthur didn’t know that, and scarcely believed it. It had now been quite some time since his run for President, and he had now spent a full year working with these people. To know that they still thought of him as some kind of distant figure actually made him a little sad. He always thought he was good at connecting with people, but maybe there was a difference between that and understanding them.

Still, he made the rounds. He shook the hands that needed to be shaken and automatically espoused doctrine on how Audacity needed to be protected. Most people ate it up, but when he found himself in a room with a group of Throneware Incorporated executives they seemed wholly unimpressed.

“Why would we vote for this?” one of them asked.

“It’s not a Nano Dex exclusive title,” he answered. “Any company can take advantage, and Throneware is well set-up to do so.”

“Not exactly,” another of them corrected. “The R&D budget is shrinking every year, and we don’t have that many patents in the bank. Even the ones we do have aren’t that novel.”

“You’ve got to remember, these people have totally different standards of novelty. We’re selling to Audacity, but really we’re selling to everyone at once. Garden haven’t seen your patents before, so when they see what a good job you do protecting the station they’re going to come straight to you. It’s a level playing field!”

Everyone looked at Yuliana Borisova, the top executive of the group. She lowered her glasses and stared at Arthur, who quickly became very uncomfortable. She asked, after a second, for everyone to give her a minute alone. The other executives began to file out, and Arthur’s discomfort grew. He didn’t know Yuliana well, but by reputation she was a figure of the utmost scruples. She had every opportunity to challenge him on the title.

Once they were alone, she took in a sharp breath. “Mr. Meridian.”

“Oh, call me Arthur,” he said reflexively.

“I don’t think I will, sir, if it’s the same to you.” Arthur was surprised. It was a breach of politeness to refuse to use someone’s forename if they offered it, and normally signified that the speaker preferred to remain at a distance. It was hardly a grave insult, but it meant that this wasn’t a friendly conversation.

Yuliana – or perhaps that should be Ms. Borisova – continued. “Mr. Meridian, I have some concerns about this title. But more than anything I have concerns about your support for it. When you were running for President back home we met at a press event. I don’t expect you to remember.” Arthur didn’t remember, having done so many over that whirlwind two-year campaign. “I asked what you would do about the crime problem in the city if you were elected. Do you recall your response?”

“I… not precisely,” he said. While that was true, he did remember his platform and the responses he had learned by heart for questions like this. Edo’s increase in criminal activity was, in his view, a response to increasing desperation on the part of the poorest people in the city. That was the convenient shorthand answer his campaign team had trained him to memorise.

“You said that you’d be looking at it very closely once elected.”

“Oh.” Arthur didn’t quite see her point. “Well, I don’t know if you heard the news, but that didn’t pan out.”

She gave him a thin smile. “Indeed. But your opponent gave a very similar answer when I asked him. And two years later, my stores are still getting robbed every week. So I’m not sure it’s the result that matters. The difference between the two of you was that you didn’t give me the hard sell that day. You said what you had to say and left it on the table. It’s rare to have a conversation with someone who isn’t constantly trying to sell you something. I respected that.”

“Thank you, I suppose.” Arthur didn’t know what else to say.

“So it makes me wonder what the hell happened.” She gestured to her device which held the weapons deal title and its details. “This isn’t an Arthur Meridian production. This came from the others in your little cohort, and they’ve sent you out to do the rounds. Why?”

“Well, there’s only three of us, Ms. Borisova. Not all of us can have a retinue.”

“Quite. But it disappoints me nonetheless. You know this title is garbage. And you know it shouldn’t pass, and if you were as smart as I thought you were you’d not waste your time bringing it to me. So why are you giving me the hard sell now?”

Arthur searched for an answer that wouldn’t make him sound weak, and failed. “It’s my only chance to stay aboard Audacity. They’ll fire us if it doesn’t pass.”

Ms. Borisova nodded in apparent understanding. Arthur didn’t know for sure, but he suspected that Throneware had had similar discussions with their own board. “I see,” she said. “Then you need to ask yourself something: is it worth it?”

The second day brought the debates, which were less fiery than Arthur might have expected. Unlike the more controversial titles of recent weeks (the leadership elections, the justice bill) everyone seemed to believe there was no reason to change anyone else’s mind. The lines were drawn, and the arguments made in the chamber were perfunctory at best.

President Sai gave a half-hearted endorsement, clearly unhappy about having to support this bill but doing so to prove their willingness to work with Earth: Edo. Arthur could think of some tips to give the machine once this was over – ways to lead without giving in to compromise. If they kept this up all term, they’d only be kicked around further. In opposition was much of the Herald faction, with Lady Kouris giving a particularly good defense of the current Security team and their continued efforts. But all the while, nobody addressed the concerns that Cristian had privately discussed – that it was the wrong thing to do.

Even Cristian himself was silent. He had given the impression that he would break away from the President on this issue, but didn’t speak up when given the opportunity. Arthur saw his silence as a tacit endorsement, though one clearly as reluctant as Sai’s own. He wanted to confront Cristian about it later, to convince him to speak out. But he knew how that conversation would go – Cristian wanted him to do the same thing, but neither of them could.

At the end of the second day he sat in the chamber alone while everyone else filed out. Speaker Evanson, now happily returned to his role away from the Presidency, spotted him on his way out the door.

“Do you need anything, Arthur?”

“Thank you, Speaker, no. I’ll just be here.”

The Speaker nodded hesitantly and left. As the door closed behind him the chamber descended into silence. Shortly the day cycle lights dimmed into burnt orange, then the deep violet that signified twilight. Still Arthur sat. He had nowhere to be, and nothing to do. He could go to Luna, but suddenly he didn’t feel much like drinking. And he liked the large chamber, especially when it was empty. It swallowed him up.

The door furthest from his seat swung open, and Kei and Isi bustled in.

“There you are!” Isi said. “Listen, man, everything’s looking good for tomorrow’s vote. The Speaker says he wants a couple more speeches, but if they’re anything like today we won’t see any problems.”

“We did it, Arthur,” Kei said, coming to join him on the bench. “Come celebrate?”

“Sure,” he said, not looking at either of them. “You guys go ahead, I’ll meet you in the bar.”

There was a heavy silence. Isi tugged at Kei’s sleeve. “Come on, let’s move.”

“Just a second,” she replied. “I want to have a word with Arthur.”

Isi didn’t protest, making his way out of the chamber alone. Kei sat in the seat neighbouring Arthur’s and took his hand.

“Arthur. You’re not fooling anybody. You think the title stinks.”

He looked her in the eye and retracted his hand. “Doesn’t matter what I think. We go along with it, we stay. We don’t, we leave.”

“Right,” she said. “Because Nano Dex won’t let you stay if you don’t publicly support this bill. So you could, you know, actively support it a little? Give a speech, win some more votes, that kind of thing?”

“I’ve been doing that for days now.”

She shook her head. “You haven’t, though. I’ve been asking around, and you’ve been talking to people, but absolutely nobody thinks you like this title. You need to feign some enthusiasm for the thing, and fast.”

“Why are you telling me this? Why not Isi?”

“Isi doesn’t care, Arthur. He’s safe, he’s staying. Not to mention, I think he actually likes the bill.”

“And you don’t?”

“It doesn’t matter, like you said. But it looks like I support it, which is what counts for the people back home. Give a speech tomorrow, I’m begging you. Show them that you can muster some interest instead of sitting here and moping all night.”

“I’m not moping. I’m contemplating.”

“Well, stop it.” Kei’s voice suddenly had a shot of venom running through it, and her eyes were steely. “I got you up here, and you need to not throw it away.”

“Weapons in Audacity, Kei. Seriously, how can you -“

She stood up before he could finish. “Give a speech,” she said, with an unspoken addendum – or else.

***

The third day came. Arthur had put himself down for a speech like Kei had told him to. He had written a few notes – it didn’t need to be dramatically different from what had already been said, it just needed to demonstrate (for the benefit of those watching from the camera feeds) that he supported the bill. The task couldn’t be simpler.

But the answer came to him just in time. He was the last speech before the vote, and when the Speaker called his name he descended the stairs to speak on the chamber floor. Turning to face the benches, he saw nearly two hundred faces staring back at him. The Garden soldiers in their uniforms, the Carmen scientists taking copious notes, the sharply dressed Edo executives, and the stiff Herald dignitaries. They all looked back at him, waiting to see what he would say, and now the answer had come to him. There was no get-out clause here, nor was there a clever trick he could pull to sway the votes while still appearing to support the title. In fact, there was no way out of the game at all.

He saw Cristian sitting dead centre of the Carmen bench, who gave an encouraging smile. He thought about the moment Isi had told him to blackmail his friend, and the horror of that conversation.

Cristian had asked him back then: “If we do this for you now, what’s to stop you asking us for the Earth? This doesn’t go away.”

He’d had no good answer then, and now he realised he was in the same situation. If he did this for Nano Dex, they would know that he would do anything to stay aboard. So he put his notes in his pocket, took a breath, and spoke.

“Fellow delegates, the title we are discussing would confirm a series of in-progress deals between the Service’s Security department and the Edo corporations who are currently working on special weapon designs. I’ve told many of you over the last few days that this title will protect us as delegates, and it will make any potential attacks from foreign sources less likely to succeed. But I lied to you, and I want to stop.

“I do not believe this title will achieve those goals. I think that all this title will do is line the pockets of the executives who thought it up, and lead to at least one terrible tragedy in this station’s future. Audacity should be a place of ideas, and debates, and progress. If we need to pull out guns to guard those things, then we are doomed to fail.

“I was asked to support this title today by my own faction, and by the executives from my own corporation. It was suggested to me that if I did not support it, then that corporation might fire me and give the seat to somebody else – or perhaps sell the seat altogether. Until now I was more than happy to go along with them, but I ask you; where will the line be drawn? Will that same corporation see fit to turn Audacity into a military base if it increases their short-term profits? And that’s to say nothing of the other powers trying to shape this station into what they want – the other Edo corporations, yes, but the new King trying to influence votes from afar, and the Garden generals trying to create a tactical asset. But I know they will hear this, so I say to them: you are not here. We are here. And we should be the ones who decide what Audacity can be. I think it can be something powerful that serves as the foundation of a new community. From the beginning that’s what I’ve wanted. And I think of the people who will never see this station, the billions of humans across the many worlds who wait to see what future we shape for them. We must ask what they would expect of us – those people who cannot send us their demands. How do we make them feel safe? How do we create a better world for them?

“I don’t have all the answers. But this bill isn’t one of them. Vote it down.”

Arthur took his seat, to stunned silence.

***

“Well, that was a sight to see.”

Arthur looked up from his drink at the sound of the voice. He had chosen a Carmen whiskey that had become his favourite in Luna, though he normally liked to try as many new things as Manny could get his hands on. Tonight, though, he could do with the old favourite. He didn’t expect to get many more of them in the future.

Mairin was looking down at him, her arms folded and a grim expression on her face. She was out of her uniform and in a thick jumper and jeans. Without asking, she took the seat opposite him. They were in a booth on the furthest edge of the bar, on an unusually quiet evening. Nobody else was talking to Arthur, but they were certainly talking about him. Only Mairin had bothered to approach him directly, and he was glad for the company.

“What brought that on?” she asked, when it became clear he wouldn’t start the conversation. Arthur shrugged.

“It seemed right, I suppose.”

“A fine way to blow up your career,” she said, holding up her own glass in praise. She was drinking a clear alcohol that could have been gin or watka, without a mixer.

“I think my career’s been blown up for a while,” he said, sipping the whiskey. “It was just time to make it official. Maybe I’ve been able to squeeze some good out of the mess.”

“I’d say so,” she said. “The vote went down, like you wanted. And between us, I think most people think you’re right.”

“Hooray,” he offered weakly.

A silence passed between them.

“Well!” she said, in an attempt at nonchalance. “I don’t envy you that three-month ride in the shuttle!”

“You won’t be going back, will you?” Arthur asked.

“Me?” she said. “No, I don’t think so. There was some talk about needing me back home – Earth has to be the priority, of course – but I think if I fight it they’ll let me stay.”

“Good for you,” he murmured, making no attempt to hide his resentment.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“You’ve no reason to be. It’s just how it goes.”

“Are you proud of the work you did up here?”

“Some of it,” he said. “Not as much as I’d like, but we had some good moments.”

“You and your team?”

He nodded and lapsed into thought again. Kei and Isi hadn’t spoken to him. Perhaps they were reporting his actions to the board before they received the speech transcripts, angling for a promotion by turning him in. They would eat each other, those two. “You’re not going to tell me to remember the good times, are you? I don’t think I could handle quite that much sentimentality.”

“Oh God, no. I would never. Not that I need to, anyway – I’m certain you won’t forget a single moment of all this, good or bad. I know I won’t.”

“No. I won’t, either.” Arthur stood to get another drink and found that the entire bar had emptied. It couldn’t have been that late by his reckoning. “Where is everyone?”

“Early night,” said Belle, still serving drinks behind the bar.

“That, or they were hoping you’d do something else crazy while you were in here,” said Manny.

Arthur laughed – it felt good to do so. “Sorry to have disappointed the audience. We’ll head out after this one, too.”

“Don’t rush on our account,” Manny said, pouring himself a drink.

“You know,” Mairin said, turning back to Arthur, “I can’t stop thinking about that song. The one we heard when we were first talking in here. You, me, Cristian, arguing about philosophy. You called my work a smokescreen, remember?”

“I do,” he said. “Sorry about that. I was rude and I was wrong – a rough combination.”

“Don’t worry about it. You weren’t to know. But that song, the one from Carmen that I was certain I knew. Sofia asked me to find it again so she could research it, but nobody on Garden could find an archived version.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you imagined it.”

“Oh no, I’m sure it’s from our world too. And Dr. Muñoz’s sure it’s from his world – excuse me, Vice President Dr. Muñoz. But on Garden… we’re not so good at keeping records. You know, there are accidents or attacks, and data gets lost. You’d be surprised about how much we don’t know about ourselves.”

“I don’t think that’s so unusual. We have history books and web portals full of information back home, but we don’t learn from it. We just make the same mistakes, over and over. We can’t help ourselves.”

“That’s pretty cynical,” Mairin observed. “And that’s coming from me. But there’s a difference between the historical record and living memory. That song – I think my dad used to sing it. He was this amazing singer, not professional or anything, but he would just sing around the house in this amazing bass voice. All gravel, but he could also sound so smooth. Anyway, I think that’s how I know it, and I never forgot it. So even if there’s no record of it anywhere, my version stays alive as long as I do.”

Arthur thought about this. “How did it go again?”

“I’m not going to sing it! My voice doesn’t carry it, not at all.”

“Manny probably still has it.”

“Way ahead of you,” said Manny, who pushed a button, and the song began to play. A low violin swept through the speakers, with other alien strings played joining soon after. Arthur had never thought to ask about different musical instruments on other planets. There were so many things he would never get to ask, now. Belle, who was circling the tables picking up empty glasses, began to twirl and dance with the beat. Manny came out from behind the bar to join her. He took her hand, and they began to dance together, tripping and laughing as they did. Arthur and Mairin watched the scene, and he felt a smile lift the corners of his mouth.

“Mairin!” Belle cried mid-whirl. “Carmen only has the instrumental version, you have to sing the words!”

“Ugh,” the older woman sighed, slugging back her spirit and wiping her mouth. “Okay, it was something like this.”

Together, with these strangers from another world, Arthur sat watching them sing and dance together. It was a sloppy and unrehearsed performance, and halfway through Mairin forgot the words and started to curse in G-Novan, but Arthur had never felt anything like it. By the end of the song, a repetitive coda that was more like a primal chant, they were all joining in.

***

At the last count, about twenty delegates from each Earth had planned to leave Audacity. But when the day came, and Arthur dragged himself from his empty dorm to the loading bay, only a dozen or so had elected to go through with it. The rest had changed their minds at the last second, and Arthur turned out to be one of only five delegates from Edo who were leaving. This meant a lonelier – but rather more spacious – ride home awaited him over the next three months. With his suitcases by his side, he watched as the Service members guided the shuttle into docking and pressurised the cabin. A few other delegates from each Earth had gathered to see the sight and help unload goods. All things being well, it would be another six months before they saw the shuttles again.

He said his goodbyes easily. Isi and Kei were there, looking sorrowful but steely. Arthur knew that they weren’t to blame for his firing. He bowed deeply to Lady Kouris and Panagos, who had been elected joint leaders of the Herald faction. They gifted him a few books on the political history of their planet – he wouldn’t be able to read them, but they were nice keepsakes to have all the same. Manny gave him his last half-full bottle of Carmen whiskey. Arthur tried to protest knowing his limited supplies, but Manny laughed and said that he was the only one who drank it anyway.

Cristian hung back until the others dispersed. The two men shook hands, and Arthur, a typically stoic man, felt his throat swell slightly. His attempt to pass it off as a cough came out as half a sob, and they both laughed a little. It was a little while before either of them talked, neither man wanting to acknowledge that they likely never would again. Communication between Edo and Audacity were reserved for corporations with seats on the station.

They released hands. “The Control daily information report was quite impressive today, Arthur.”

“Is that so?” Arthur had spent enough time with Cristian to know that the seeming non-sequitur would soon join up.

“Indeed. The headline was about you. It said, Unconventional Denizen of Earth: Edo Protects Audacity’s Safety.”

“Unconventional is right. I’m not sure that I’ve protected anything, yet, but time will tell. And who am I to argue with a century-old superintelligence, eh?”

“I…I feel somewhat responsible for all this, Arthur.”

“You are,” Arthur said, meeting his friend’s eye. “It was my decision, but I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you.”

Cristian patted him on the arm and quickly turned away.

Once he and the other passengers were on board, and the rest of the loading bay cleared, three more passengers were carried through. Arthur watched through a grubby window as the body of the King, discreetly enclosed in a makeshift coffin, was loaded aboard the Herald shuttle. On the opposite side of the bay a clear plastic box held the electronic wires and limbs of the Control chassis, disassembled and headed back to Carmen. And hands cuffed behind his back, escorted by two of the burlier Service members, the doppelganger assassin was shoved into the shuttle bound for Earth: Garden, having accepted defeat. Arthur took some comfort in the fact that he wasn’t the exile with the worst fate.

The journey was comfortable but quiet. The few passengers who were also headed back to Earth: Edo seemed unwilling to talk with him for long periods of time, perhaps worried that his unpopularity would rub off on them. That suited him. It meant he had plenty of time to think and decide what kind of man he would be when he returned. On a business level, he was collapsing under the weight of his reputation – failed Presidential candidate, failed Audacity delegate – but he began to see that as a positive. Perhaps it was time to leave the city for a while and see some of the rest of his world. He still had money, and there were probably things he could do with it without drawing the attention of the executives that had previously been his allies and rivals. It might even be easier if everyone had assumed he’d lost it. He could build a house, maybe, or dig a well. There was likely somebody in the world in need of a well, and he would find them and dig it. Or perhaps he would stay at home and watch old campaign speeches and remember the days he was headline news. But he hoped not.

In the last week of the journey, Arthur sat on his bed, his frame hunched over a copy of a book he could not read. There was a short blast of static from the speaker above his head.

“Mr. Meridian, sir,” the shuttle pilot said, “we’re coming into range of some radio waves from Edo now. They’re fuzzy but they’ll get better over the next hour or so. Can we play you anything? News?”

Arthur had been away for over a year, but he wasn’t in any hurry to catch up on the news. He pushed the button to reply. “No news. But a music station, if you can find it. Dealer’s choice.”

“You got it,” the pilot replied. In time another burst of static resolved itself into the tail end of a pop song. Arthur lay back and closed his eyes, listening to the rapidly approaching sounds of civilisation. The Russian-inflected voice of a presenter overtook the closing beats of the last song and introduced the next. An accordion struck up and a gravelly voice broke in, and Arthur’s eyes shot open in astonishment.

Alone and far from home, he laughed, and started to hum along to the familiar song.