John Barnes - The Last President

“Therefore, we’re going to do the following, and I really do think it is all we will ever need to do. We’re going to ask each family, or as many of its members as were in the city this evening, to come forward, onto the rostrum here, and swear an oath of allegiance to Manbrookstat, to the Commandancy, to the citizens of the Commandancy, and of course to me personally as well since I am serving you as your Commandant. Then once they have given their oaths, our militia or our Special Assistants will escort them peaceably back to their homes, and they will peaceably go about their normal business tomorrow, under the fair and democratic laws of the Commandancy, just as they did under the laws of the old United States. We have a number of them to get through tonight, so I’ll ask you to hold your applause till the end.”

The first family pulled out of the crowded pen and pushed into the light, not roughly but firmly, were the Theards; Rollings knew them slightly, as the owners and operators of a large fish market. Henri Theard seemed very relieved to see his wife, three daughters, and elderly mother, and they all repeated their new oath of allegiance with calm acceptance.

After a smattering of clapping, the Commandant reminded everyone to hold applause till the end. The Theards were escorted from the stage and out into the night.

That set the pattern until the Commandant called up the Steigers. Joseph Steiger had several adult grandchildren and ran the city’s compost industry, which was rapidly turning large parts of Staten Island into truck gardens. In the business community, he was an outspoken public critic of the Commandant, and fifty-star flags flew from every building in his operation. It was clear that the family was being pushed more than helped onto the platform, and that it wasn’t easy to find places for all of them to stand.

“And now the Steiger family will take the oath. Please repeat after—”

Old Joe Steiger bellowed, “Like hell we will. This bullshit is treason, blatant treason, and—”

Doubtless, the Commandant had planned it.

The Special Assistant behind Joseph Steiger whipped out a heavy, short piece of pipe and brought it down on Steiger’s head in one savage motion. Steiger fell to his knees, moaning, and the Special Assistant struck again, knocking him to his face, kicked him in the ribs, and brought the pipe down on his head so hard that the thud was audible where Rollings stood.

The crowd was silent for a moment, and then someone laughed, and then many of them did. Maybe that first guy that laughed was a plant, Rollings thought. But everyone that laughed after him, they weren’t all plants. The mob’s with the Commandant.

The Commandant said, “Now we will continue with the oath. Mrs. Sharon Steiger, if you will lead—”

Joe Steiger’s wife (or was she already his widow?) screamed a few words of denunciation before the same Special Assistant, with the same pipe, knocked her down. The way she twitched on the little stage looked more like a spasm than a struggle. The mob was still laughing, but with a nervous, hysteric edge.

The Commandant sighed with just a hint of impatience. “Since the oldest members of the family won’t lead, let’s try a younger one. Tory Steiger, please step forward.”

The girl was tiny, maybe ten years old and small for her age, and trembling. The Special Assistant stood behind her, not even concealing the length of pipe, and the Commandant said, very gently, “Sweetie, you just need to say the words.”

Tory’s mother said, “Do what the Commandant says, honey, it will be all right.”

“Yes, exactly,” the Commandant said. “And the rest of your family will speak along with you.”

They did, mumbling, and it was conspicuous that when the Steiger family left the stage (except for the oldest generation, who were carried down the steps and dumped into a cart), there were numerous armed men around them, and they went into the dark in a different direction.

At last the Commandant called for the Rollings family. Deanna had already bumped, WE SAY IT to him and he’d bumped back HELL YES . As they were led up the steps, Rollings’s wife, Matilda, and their other daughter Uhura, joined them.

It was easier than he thought it would be; he said it loudly, clearly, and firmly, just as, when drug addicts had robbed his dental practice, he had always spoken politely and clearly so that they would have no cause to harm him. It was over in no time and he didn’t even feel like he had to shower or brush his teeth afterward. I suppose if you truly understand that an oath given under duress is meaningless, then it just doesn’t matter much. Thanks for Ethics 202, Professor Blaine.

Their two militia guards (it looked like the Commandant was using militia for the more cooperative, less suspect people) had walked them back over the Brooklyn Bridge, and they were a few blocks from the house, when a voice said, “Is that the Rollings family?”

“Yeah.”

The man who stepped out of the shadow and into the lantern light wore a long coat and a black scarf around his face, and held up a Special Assistant’s badge. “The Commandant wants this asshole’s sloop searched tonight , and we want him and his family there while we do it, so they can help—and so we can remind them they want to help. Sounds like there’s a lot of stuff on there that has never been recorded for tax purposes, a lot of small valuable pocket stuff.”

The militia men, probably thinking there would be a chance to fill their pockets, were immediately, happily willing to comply. So was Rollings, but he made sure it didn’t show. Deanna bumped against him.

G?

He bumped back

HE

and contrived to rub against Matilda, who bumped

DUH IM HIS MTHR

Rollings was nervous and scared that his son’s deception might be exposed, but soon he reflected that had Geordie been a completely different person, he might have been good at Special Assisting. Within two blocks, by dint of overbearing nitpicking, Geordie had the militiamen discouraged and trudging along aimlessly as they made their way to the Brooklyn wharfs. As he pretended to rough up his family, he cut his father’s bonds and slipped a knife into his hands; after another block he quietly said, “Now,” and they heard a startled, soft cry of pain behind them. Rollings sprang forward and slid the knife into their front guard’s throat, two quick stabs that silenced him and left him dying on the sidewalk. Two years ago I’d’ve puked; but between pirates, muggers, wreckers, and that guy I think was probably an assassin, it’s kind of a technical business, like taking out a badly fractured wisdom tooth.

When Rollings looked back, the one that Geordie had knifed was lying still. “All right,” Geordie said. “Let me douse that lantern out, Pops, and you all stick close to me. Should be enough moonlight to make it to Ferengi without needing to show a light.”

As they climbed the gangplank, Rollings muttered, “I would’ve thought they’d have had a guard on this ship.”

“They did, Pops. Where’d’ya think I got the outfit and the badge?”

Ferengi had been deliberately kept fully stocked for a long voyage, and the Commandant’s men hadn’t disturbed anything. The land breeze and the tide were in their favor, and Geordie knew the harbor well; when the moon rose, just before midnight, they were well clear.

“Man, one thing I won’t miss, it’s that broken Statue of Liberty,” Matilda said. “Broke my heart every time I came over to Manhattan. Did you hear that Commandant’s got convicts out there in chains every day, cutting up the fallen-off arm-and-torch, so he can sell it for scrap? Besides being crass, and a fascist dictator, he has no sense of irony.” She drew a deep breath. “Love the smell of the air, and I don’t mean just the salt water. What time is it?”