26

The movie theater was ancient, a relic of Tarkis’ early colonial days. Threadbare red velvet seats lined the orchestra and balcony, and ornate wooden carvings arched across the ceiling, gilt paint peeling off with age. Hidden in one of the darkened wings of the stage, Rath peered out at the gathering audience.

“It’s a fitting venue,” Ricken observed.

Rath turned to find the former lawman standing behind him, surveying the stage.

“Hm?” Rath asked.

“An old theater, for an old man like me,” Ricken said, smiling. “How does it feel to be home?”

“Strange,” Rath said. “It’s been a long time.”

“Since before you were a guildsman?” Ricken asked.

“No.” Rath shook his head. “I came back once, while I was in the Guild. I thought I could find some peace by avenging my brother’s death, but … well, nothing will ever bring Vonn back.”

“But his legacy lives on, in you,” Ricken pointed out. “You honor his memory every day, in the choices you make.”

“I suppose,” Rath said. Uncomfortable, he looked back out at the theater’s seats. “Who are they, again?” he asked, indicating the crowd with his chin.

“They’re your people,” Ricken answered. “Our kind of people. Community leaders, in one capacity or another. Various union leaders, the head of the local small business organization, the chief of the fire department, the president of a non-profit medical clinic. Over two hundred self-made men and women – the true backbone of this planet. Are you ready?”

Rath took a deep breath. “I suppose so.”

“You’ll do fine,” Ricken assured him, clapping him reassuringly on the back. “Just speak from the heart.”

Ricken pulled his holophone from his pocket and skimmed it briefly. “No response from General Yo-Tsai,” he muttered. “I asked for a status update on the fleet’s readiness.”

“That reminds me,” Rath said. “I think Yo-Tsai’s up to something.”

“What makes you say that?” Ricken asked.

“Anders!” They looked up and saw Lonergan, who was standing beside the stage’s sound equipment, tapping his watch meaningfully. Jaymy stood by his side. “It’s time,” the old man said.

Ricken patted Rath on the shoulder, and stepped out onto the stage, with Rath in tow. The crowd quieted immediately, and Rath saw all eyes fixate on Ricken.

“Good day to you all,” Ricken said. “I apologize for the subterfuge we had to employ to gather all of you here, but now that you see who organized this meeting – me – perhaps you understand the reason for that secrecy. I’m Anders Ricken, and I’m here to ask for your help.”

A heavy-set man in the front row laughed. “Anders Ricken is dead,” he pointed out, raising his voice to be heard.

“No,” Ricken said. “I’m not.” He gestured to the massive screen behind him, and on cue, the famous newsreel footage appeared, showing Ricken boarding his doomed ship on Caustiga. Then the screen showed a different angle, shot with another camera. Soon after the group boarded the ship, they emerged again, climbing down through a hatch hidden behind the ship’s boarding ramp, and secreted themselves under a camouflage net. The ship took off moments later.

“I’ve been in cryosleep since then,” Ricken told the audience. “But now I’ve come back.”

“We should have you arrested,” a woman in glasses told him. “Assuming this isn’t just some ruse.”

“Perhaps you should,” Ricken told her. “You’ll have to decide for yourselves if you believe me. And once you’ve heard what I have to say, what you want to do about it.”

“This is ridiculous,” the heavy-set man said, standing. “I’m out.”

“Stay, friend,” Ricken said, a hint of the old patrolman’s commanding voice creeping into his tone. “Hear me out.”

“Why?” the man asked.

“Because it doesn’t matter whether I’m really Anders Ricken or not,” Ricken told him. “What matters is what I intend to do. You – all of you – have an opportunity to change history here today. All you need to do is listen.”

The man wavered, and Rath could see he was on the verge of leaving.

“Stay,” Rath said, stepping forward. “I guarantee you won’t regret it.”

“And who are you?” the man asked.

Rath faced the assembled people. Under the glare of the stage lights, he let his face shift back to its natural configuration, which he had been forced to wear on Scapa during the trial. He heard a gasp from the audience, as they recognized him from the news footage. “I’m Rath Kaldirim. Also known as Contractor 621. Tarkis is my home, as much as it is yours.”

The man in the front row sat down.

“There’s something rotten at the heart of our Federacy,” Rath continued. “I saw it firsthand when we discovered that the Senate controlled the Guild. The Guild is gone, but it was only a symptom of a greater problem. The root cause remains: our government doesn’t exist to serve the needs of the people anymore. It only serves the needs of a few – the wealthy.”

“You’re pretty wealthy now, by all accounts,” a man toward the back interjected.

“Thirty-eight billion dollars,” Rath agreed. “And what’s more, the Interstellar Police are expending every resource they have trying to find me again. So ask yourself this: what am I doing standing in front of you right now? Why come back out of the shadows?”

Rath let the question hang, unanswered, for a moment. “I’ll tell you why. It’s because money can’t buy you happiness, and it damn sure can’t clear your conscience for you. I’m here to do some good with my life for once, and I think Ricken’s plan is my best shot at that.”

The woman in glasses spoke up again. “I don’t know who you are, but I know that the system’s been rigged for years. The government’s always been in the pocket of big corporations and the ultra-rich. What are you going to do about it?”

“Elect a new government,” Ricken told her. “With your help.”

 

* * *

 

Rath, Ricken, Jaymy, and Lonergan made their way through Tarkis’ spaceport, passing through security without incident using the fake identities Rath had set up for them. Less than an hour later, they boarded the private shuttle, borrowed from the Jokuans. As the craft left its boarding dock, Rath took a final glance at Tarkis out the window.

See you again soon, he thought.

“That went well,” Ricken observed. “Even better than I had hoped.”

“We were losing them, until Rath stepped in,” Lonergan admitted, somewhat grudgingly. “That was well done.”

“Thanks,” Rath said. “Do you think they’ll help, when the time comes?”

“I think they still don’t believe we can force the Senate to resign,” Ricken admitted. “But once they see it happen, they’ll seize the opportunity. It’s like you said: either they sit back and let the rich elect a new set of puppets to control, or they step up and take the chance we’re offering them.”

“What now?” Jaymy asked, from the seat next to Rath.

“Now, the operation begins in earnest,” Ricken said. “We’ll rendezvous with the Rampart Guardian at the rally point, and you three will transfer back over to her. We’ll move one of the high energy devices onto this shuttle, and then I’ll proceed to Anchorpoint with Egline and Linn.”

“Meanwhile, we take the Rampart Guardian back to Tarkis,” Lonergan said. “We’ll deliver our drone from beyond sensor range, and wait to approach the planet until the State of the Federacy Address begins.” He gazed at each of them in turn. “This is the point of no return. Once we go forward from here, there will be no turning back. Anders, are you ready?”

Ricken nodded slowly. “I’m ready, old friend. Ready for the final campaign.” He smiled at Lonergan, and then Rath. For the first time, Rath saw a hint of nerves, a tiny crack in the man’s normally stoic demeanor. “Whatever happens, promise me you won’t lose sight of our goal: to bring about a better Federacy, for the people who need it most. If I don’t make it off of Anchorpoint, it will be up to you two to finish what I started.”

“We’ll see it through,” Rath swore.

“I know you will.” Ricken turned to Lonergan. “Tell the Jokuans to start deploying the drones.”