A tall, silver-haired man of approximately 90, or on the cusp of senior life, was just finishing his late-night meal, alone in the well-appointed dining room of his luxurious penthouse suite in the executive district in downtown Paragon. A city of ten million, it was the perfect city to house a world's government. All cities on Terrana were perfect, though. Planned and laid out in precision, with every aspect of life taken into consideration before construction began, so that all necessary human services would always be met. In Paragon, as they did everywhere else, the trains always ran on time.
This particular man lived in a beautiful apartment, but there were many citizens who had nicer ones. The finest in workmanship that Terrana's furniture makers had to offer, instead of the attractive but more pedestrian versions this man owned. Artworks by the Masters on the walls, instead of prints of the same that this man was satisfied with, the same prints that hung on the walls of millions of Terranites. He certainly could have something more lavish if he wanted it, as his position would deny him nothing at all on this planet. His name was Howard Chang, and he was the figurehead-of state of the world government; the Primate.
Never one to be too concerned with matters of material possessions, Chang's chief motivation was the continued respect and love and admiration of his people. He had led the world for forty years, and hoped to lead it for forty more. The average life expectancy for a male was 125, though a good number lived to 140 or so. He wasn't necessarily a brilliant man, not like many in the Senate, but he was a brilliant salesman. His passionate speeches captured the hearts and minds of Terranites. He could sell the people on anything. It was a quality that was increasingly rare, as no one really needed to be sold anything anymore, at least not aggressively, not new products or new ideas. With the common greed all but gone, there was no need to stir up a feeding frenzy, to instill in people the idea that they just couldn't live without something, and create a demand for it. And with society having reached an even keel and stayed there, truly new ideas were rarer than dinosaur feathers.
But having a leader who could grab your attention should the need ever arise was deemed to be essential, as the typical politician was as dull as a butter knife. Politics itself was a dying art form. There was still competition for positions, but the key ones, the Senators', were seats handed down over generations. Essentially, because although people still voted for them every ten years, they and their families were so trusted that there was virtually no opposition. The only new blood came when a family bloodline ran out due to no heirs. The Primate was not elected, but hand-picked by the elected Senate. Chang had been drafted out of the ranks of videocast advertising by a sharp-eyed Senator, who had hired him as an aide and groomed him to replace the last Primate. That senator was gone, but his son had succeeded him. The two men were very close, and it was from this senator that came the call that interrupted Chang's dinner.
"Excuse me, Sir," said the shapely young brunette with the striking violet eyes and the short, violet skirt, as she entered the dining room with fresh tea. Chang liked younger women. "Senator McAvoy is on the line."
"Thank you, Veronica. I'll take my tea in the study."
Chang stood and drew himself to his full 1.8 meters, which gave him a commanding presence before an audience, along with his rich baritone orator's voice. He was the picture of the top-line executive, relaxing at home after a day filled with important meetings in his one-piece dark-gray suit and deep purple velvet evening jacket. The clothing was perfectly tailored to his muscular upper body, slim hips and long legs. But perhaps his most riveting feature was his large, luminous eyes that were a very unusual pale gray, almost white. It was determined that less than one half of one percent of the world's population had that color. They could be exceedingly hard and cold in person, as could he, but were capable of great warmth, which is what the people generally saw. But what came through the loudest was the passion, the fire in them when he spoke.
Taking his cup and saucer with him, he exited the dining room and went to his small workroom off the hall. Some of the elite class had pretentious libraries with walls lined with books that were never touched. All he needed was a desk, a comfortable chair, and the marvelous view of the bay and the mountains up the coast. Any information he wanted was easily accessible from his state-of-the-art multi-media center, which was wired throughout the apartment. He could hold a video conference with anyone, anywhere. He sat down at his desk and touched a key on the keypad. Instantly, the distinctive face of Senator Perth McAvoy came up on the wide wall screen to Chang's left. The worry in the large, brown eyes were in sharp contrast to the smooth skin and salt-and-pepper hair of the handsome Senator 15 years Chang's junior.
"Howard, we have a serious problem. It appears you were right about Benjamin Ruff."
The words turned Chang's blood instantly cold. "Why, what's happened?"
It had been in his mind only briefly that morning, that it was the day Ruff's ill-begotten offspring were to finally be disposed of. But he'd not given much thought to the man himself. It was his own foolishness, too, that was responsible. He had lost his head and done something he now wished – somewhat – that he hadn't done. Ruff had opened his mouth – how he'd known was still a mystery - and confronted Chang directly when he and his family had been captured. It had saved his life. At least for the time being.
That day came back into his mind, as fresh as when it took place. In the aftermath, he had argued that Ruff needed to be eliminated immediately, without the usual wait for those convicted of the crime of not reporting defective births. McAvoy, along with six others on the ten-member Senate, had supported him. But three had not. Seven to three was a majority that would hold in any legislative action, but this was not a matter for public discussion… unless the three didn't get their way. That was the threat, anyway. The threat would never be carried out; the risk to society was too great. But it had worked; the seven finally gave in.
What Ruff had done was a capital crime, of course, but what Chang had done was even worse. Ruff's biggest supporter in the argument to allow him to live was someone who would have supported his execution had not this other thing come up. That man was Ruff's own father and the boys' grandfather, Senator Preston Ruff. That his own flesh and blood would challenge the foundations of society by not surrendering those kids was something that disgusted the elder Ruff. He saw them not as grandchildren but as nameless genetic anomalies, now; though he probably would have sent condolences to Ben and his mate at the time if they'd obeyed the law.
Probably, because father and son had been at odds for years. Ben was the only child of Preston and Agatha Ruff. Agatha was Ruff's third mate and was also estranged from her son. Ruff was a man who had seen much tragedy in his life. His first mate and their two children, ages 4 and 6 at the time, had been lost with 39 others in a ferry disaster on the Xiang river in New Asia. Accidents were the one thing that could mar perfection, but there was little that could be done. It was just accepted as a part of life beyond human control. Ruff was 31 at the time, and giving final exams to his history students at university, or he'd have been lost also. His father would be Senator for only six more months, the pain of losing his grandchildren hastening his declining health. Preston stepped into his father's seat and put the power of his grief into his service to the world. He found a second mate at 40, but they never produced any offspring. The pressure of failure combined with the lack of time they spent together due to his duties caused the relationship to fail after nine years. He eventually grew used to the idea that there would be no more Ruffs in the Senate.
But when he was 82, he met Agatha, age 43. She was an accomplished geneticist at the university he had taught at; he was giving the keynote address at an alumni dinner. 83 was very late in life to begin a family, but Agatha's experience in genetics made producing a child relatively simple despite Ruff's age. However, the age difference between father and son was something not so easily overcome. When young Benjamin adamantly refused a life in politics, and a seat in the Senate someday, in favor of science, Preston never forgave his son for it. A Ruff had served the people of Terrana in that great body for six generations. He never knew that Ben had found a mate, let alone that he'd had illegal children.
But when his own son brought to him the knowledge of Chang's deed and threatened to make it public, despite being imprisoned – there were ways – and Chang had privately admitted to it and apologized to the full Senate, it had angered him so much that he'd wanted to kill Chang with his own hands. And that's when the familial bond came into play and Ruff saw a way to save his only son, if not to redeem him in his own eyes. Two other senators bought his argument that what Chang had done was far worse, even if the likelihood of anyone finding out was greater with the son alive instead of dead. They themselves supported Chang's removal if the boy wasn't spared.
So son was taken aside by father and told to never, ever speak of this again and you will be allowed to live, and to continue serving Terrana as a scientist. Ben, already having decided with Bonnie to fight to the death, took the easy way out. Oh, he would expose Chang someday, when the time was right. Doing it in shackles under a deathwatch would have been so much more difficult. Dead, he was of no use to anyone. Alive, there was at least a fighting chance to save his kids. So he agreed, he and Bonnie were spared, and they quietly went about being good little functionaries, doing their assigned tasks. Ben even suggested some experiments that he and Bonnie were eventually allowed to do unsupervised. They'd gained the trust of the watchers, who themselves didn't know the truth.
"What's happened, Howard," said McAvoy in the gravest tone possible, "is that they've lost him. Ruff has escaped."
"I see," said Chang after several moments. For now, his eyes kept either cold hate or hot passion out of them, both of which tore through him. "Does Preston know this?"
"We all know except for Margaruite Pelovsky, who is on a ski vacation in Oceania. We are in agreement on what needs to be done, and we're certain Margaruite would agree. Preston would like to speak with you. Hold on."
Replacing Senator McAvoy on the screen was the haggard face of Ruff the senior. His famous mane of jet-black hair, rare at his advanced age – he was now 116 – had turned white within the last year, and the always young-looking face had become deeply lined. Clearly he had carried this personal burden, no doubt one tinged with a good dose of guilt, with difficulty. It was not doing him well, nor was the idea of having to give in to a man he thoroughly disliked. Ruff had never liked pitchmen of any sort. Chang took some pleasure in seeing that worn face. They acknowledged each other with curt nods and simple greetings.
"Howard."
"Preston."
Ruff had always been a man of few words, unusual for a politician, and he got right to the point. "Howard, it looks like you've been vindicated. I must accept some responsibility for this. Mind you, I take nothing back on what I told you regarding your actions. My feelings on that subject have not changed. But I have to admit that he deceived me, all of us who trusted him. While the population may buy your denial, which I will now support, by the way, of his accusations should they come to light, we cannot take the chance. There are too many now who may believe him. Benjamin must be stopped, as much as it hurts to say those words. The passage of time has made me see that some things we hold dear must be sacrificed for the greater good of society."
Ruff's pale blue eyes were saying something entirely different, though, in spite of the expression on their owner's face. "You bastard. This is all your fault." For him, knowing the truth about Chang was worse than the sacrifice of his son, which would have been made, had Chang just lied about the charges instead of admitting it – which infuriated him all the more, for Chang had at least some integrity. His own was now in question, by himself, at least.
Chang was able to keep the fire out of his eyes, for the moment, anyway. The man just couldn't resist getting in one last jab at him, could he? How many times was he supposed to apologize for that mistake? Though getting caught was what he regretted, not the deed itself so much.
"Thank you, Preston." Chang couldn't resist one last dig of his own at his rival. "It is a sad time for us all. I wish there were another way. Please, put Perth back on, will you?"
No doubt seething inside, Ruff did so. Chang didn't care what else the man did. It was done, or soon would be. "Perth, did you catch any of that?"
"All of it. Don't worry, Howard, I think we'll have an easy time persuading him to retire after this all settles down."
"I was thinking the same thing. OK, what's the next step? That's up to you."
McAvoy wasn't that foolish. He wasn't going into something this drastic alone. There might still be repercussions down the road no one could foresee at the time. 'Layers of accountability' was something every politician understood.
"For something like this, Howard, the order has to come from both of us, for our own protection. That way, no one can say the legislative branch has more power than the executive." Never mind that the executive was little more than a puppet.
"All right," Chang said. "Let's get it over with."
The sixteen search crews, four into each quadrant, had all stopped searching upon orders from headquarters, to avoid wild goose chases. The new orders were to come back in. Already, new, better-trained teams were loading up, knowing something big was afoot, but not what. Ten of the advanced high-powered hovercraft, with space for eight crewmen and up to twenty robots apiece, were just about ready to launch. These craft were equipped with rays of electricity that would instantly disable a craft, and practically roast a human. On a few test runs in the vast wilderness preserve on the continent of Thesica, a few of the giant wild boar had been killed by one shot. It was overkill for a human, times ten.
The crews stood ready, the robots already loaded, should it turn into an air battle. The robots had thrusters in their metallic feet and on their backs, and could maneuver by themselves once they had been programmed. The programming was underway. The chief gave his basic instructions to the 80 men and women assigned to this mission as they stood around him in a circle near their waiting craft, their black helmets in their hands or tucked under their arms.
"You are looking for a standard hovercraft, piloted by a 29 year-old woman with black hair. Her companion is a male, age 32, also with black hair. Their names are Bonita and Benjamin Ruff."
Recent color photographs of the two were handed out and distributed to each of the ten team leaders.
"Their faces may be camouflaged. We do not think they are armed, but we can't confirm that. Expect resistance. At this time, based on this craft's top speed, they will be no more than seventy kilometers from this position. They are probably flying a serpentine path to avoid detection; and will probably not be using flying lanes. This will slow them down. Two ships in each direction. Teams 9 and 10 are flying diagonal courses bisecting the quadrants; 9, southeast to northwest and back, 10 southwest to northeast. All of you, be ready to move to assist should one of you achieve your target. Your orders are to first make visual contact with the occupants to confirm identity. If unable to do so, use as little force as necessary to bring the craft down, safely apprehend the occupants, and identify them. We don't want any mistakes, folks."
"Then what, chief, after confirmation is made?" asked one female team leader, a bright young redhead with pink eyes.
"We suspect they are headed for a safe house operated by the underground; however, information from the Espionage branch of the Office of the Protectorate indicates that there are no known safe houses being operated in the vicinity at this time. It is not, I repeat, not your job to follow them."
"These are your orders, ladies and gentlemen," boomed a voice known to all from the speakers in the large hangar. The sound reverberated off the concrete walls and floor, causing everyone to look sharply up toward the speakers. "This is the Primate speaking. Your mission is a vital one to the security of all citizens of Terrana. You must not fail. You will not fail. I have faith in you, as does the Senate, who is in full agreement with this necessary action. I have with me Senator McAvoy, whom I am sure you all know."
Indeed they did. A good twenty had been nominated for the service academy by the man himself. "Good evening, people, I'll make this short. I can't stress enough the importance of the success of this mission, and the importance of getting it right. No mistakes in identifying your target. Once it is found, and the identities of the escapees confirmed, your orders are to use extreme prejudice."
It shook even the best-trained people. Not one of them had ever been ordered to kill a fellow human being. And this wasn't even what you would call a justifiable killing, one done in the line of combat. It was summary judgement and execution without due process. It was unthinkable. Even the chief was stunned. But here were perhaps the two most powerful men on the planet, ordering it. Terrana must be in grave danger.
"That is confirmed," said the voice of the Primate. "Thank you all, and may the Heavens be with you."
After ten more seconds of stony silence, the chief clapped his hands. "All right, folks, that's it. Let's roll!"