A/N: Thanks for the reviews Leona and Hossfan - I'm so pleased that I'm hitting that 'season 2' vibe - it's what I'm aiming for - and if you're looking for 'oh crap' moments, more are in the offing! Yes - Taylor's really deteriorating now, and matters are about to come to a head. On several fronts...
Chapter Thirteen
Outflanked
In an instant, the camp is alive with voices and chaos; lights are coming on, people are calling out to one another, soldiers emerging from their tents with guns at the ready. There is no sense of order in the clamour, and no sign of the Commander, prompting Dunham to start bashing his pistol against the side of one of the parked rovers, "Everybody - shut UP!"
At once, everyone stops dead, "Get me a head count, now!" Taylor still hasn't emerged, so the Lieutenant steps into the breach as best he can. God, what if it was Taylor who cried out?
"Hell, the fence is down!" Reynolds shouts across, raising his gun and hastening to the generator, "The circuit breaker tripped," he says, crossly as Malcolm nervously crosses to join him. Being more able, Malcolm resets the breaker, and their only protection from predators spits back into life again.
"Is there anyone missing?" Dunham calls again, "Someone get me a staff manifest!"
Carter scrambles back into his tent for a plex, and returns with it, looking about as much as anyone else to see who's not present. The tension as he calls out names, and people respond, is palpable. So far, the only person not present is Taylor…
"Wicks?"
Silence.
"Hal?" he tries again. Then looks rather sick, "Check his tent. He wasn't rostered to be on watch."
Carter hastens off again. Wicks is one of his particular cronies, so it's inevitable that he'd do it. They don't have to wait long, "Lieutenant!"
Dunham, Malcolm and Mira in tow, crosses to the relevant tent. Carter steps back so that Dunham can look inside. As with all the tents housing the security personnel, there isn't much in there - and it's in perfect order. The sleeping bag has certainly been slept in - but vacated. Reaching in, Dunham rests his hand on the quilted nylon: vaguely warm - he can't have been long out of it. Perhaps he needed to use the waste compactor, and emerged…
"Who was on watch?" he steps back out of the tent again.
Silence - glances being exchanged.
"No one was on watch?" Dunham's disbelief couldn't be clearer. What happened to the roster he gave to the Commander, for God's sake?
The looks on people's faces vary from shock, to horror, to equal disbelief. How could it be possible that no one was assigned to go on watch? Everyone knows that the circuit breakers can be tripped by as little as a rogue moth. Someone always has to be on watch to reset the system if the fence line goes down.
"Why the hell didn't you assign someone?" Mira asks, at once.
"I did!" Dunham protests, "Savage and Edison were supposed to take first watch, then Carter and Lynott, then Reynolds and me. I handed the roster over to the Commander for approval - and he said he'd take it from there. Travers and Wicks were going to get the night off tonight."
"You gave the roster to the Commander?"
"For approval - like I'm supposed to. He told me to leave it with him, so I did."
"Where is he?" Malcolm asks, worriedly. Taylor is still absent.
Reynolds hastily crosses to the Commander's tent. For him to have slept through a commotion like this is inconceivable - but the alternative is far, far worse.
The assembled party wait, nervously, as he unzips the flap, and then enters. For a moment, there is silent, before Reynolds emerges, with Taylor in tow. Needless to say, Taylor's expression is mightily angry.
"What the hell were you doing?" he demands of Dunham, immediately.
"What you told me to do, Sir." He answers, at once, though at half the volume, "I presented the roster to you, and you dismissed me. You told me you'd look after it."
"Well?" he turns then on the gathered soldiers, glaring at them each in their turn. Each of them shuffles, nervously; but eventually Carter speaks, "None of us received any orders, Sir."
"Don't give me that." Taylor spits back, furious, "You were all assigned your watches this evening. Whichever ones of you were supposed to be on watch, and weren't, step forward. Stat!"
Again, they exchange nervous glances. This time, Lynott does the honours, "We don't know who was supposed to be on watch. None of us received any orders, so we assumed we were the team getting the night off."
For a moment, the Commander is silent, though his mouth is open as though he intents to speak - but the words have been snatched from him. Regardless of his rage, he can't berate people for thinking that they weren't required to go on watch because they hadn't received orders to. Or perhaps they have…and they're lying to him…
"That's a lie." He snaps, coldly, "You were given your assigned times to go on watch - don't you dare pretend to me now that you didn't. One of your comrades is dead - because you weren't doing your duty."
Everyone stares at him, astounded.
"Savage, Edison. Take watch like you were supposed to." He growls, "I'll deal with you in the morning."
The pair look at one another, bemused and angry at the implication that they have disobeyed orders, as the Commander ignores them and returns to his tent.
Equally confused, Dunham looks across at Malcolm, who has no answer to give, "He can't punish them for something they didn't know they were supposed to be doing." The Lieutenant says, rather worriedly, "There's no way they would ignore an order. No way at all."
"I know." Malcolm says, his tone concerned as well, "I'll speak to the Commander in the morning. No guarantees, but I'll see what I can do to smooth this over. Chances are he'll realise that he's made a mistake - and he'll apologise."
Dunham nods, though he doesn't look convinced.
Sat in his tent, Taylor scowls, "What the hell are they playing at, Wash?"
"God knows, Commander," she sighs, sitting beside him, "I handed out the orders - and they didn't object or complain. I've never seen anything like it before."
"Dunham must be letting discipline slip."
"He's young. Inexperienced. Give him time."
"We don't have time, Wash. This is dangerous terrain - I can't afford to have people not do their jobs properly."
"Have them clean out the compactors when we camp tomorrow night." She suggests, "That's no one's favourite job."
He looks at her, his anger fading as his face crinkles into a smile, "Sounds like a great idea to me. If they can't get it right, then that should focus their minds again."
"I'm full of great ideas." She grins back, "G'night Commander."
"G'night, Wash."
The mood over the breakfast rations is bleak, to say the least. The security contingent are deeply subdued, while Taylor glowers from nearby, a plate of half-eaten scrambled rehydrated eggs and crackers in his hand. Bram and Charlie are sitting with Paula, who looks as shaken as they do, while Malcolm has nibbled at a cereal bar for form's sake before retreating to check over the equipment piled up all over his rover. He is not surprised to find Mira sitting nearby.
"We have to do something." She says, eventually, "He didn't pass out the orders that Dunham left with him - and now he's blaming the security team for what happened last night. If there's only one good thing to come out of this, it's sent the Bambis off for the time being." She pauses again, "But I think I'd rather have them still stalking us, and Hal alive."
Malcolm fiddles with one of the knots on the webbing, "I don't know what to do." He admits, quietly, "I've never been out this far - I've forgotten everything Lieutenant Washington taught me about survival, and the Commander's completely compromised. How the hell do I overrule him? He'll never accept it if I try to declare him unfit - and I haven't a clue why he thought the rosters had been issued when they hadn't. He must be hallucinating in some way - but how, I can't imagine."
"I think I can."
Slowly, he turns and leans against the back of the rover, "What do you mean?"
"Everything that he seems to have done suggests to me that he's delegated things to someone. If it isn't Dunham, it must be someone else - and there's only one person I can think of that he'd trust to that extent."
"Oh, my God…" Malcolm looks even more helpless as he realises who Mira's talking about, "How the hell do I counter that? If he's seeing Lieutenant Washington, and he really believes she's here, then he's never going to listen to me, or to Dunham. It's a given that he's put her in charge - at least in his own mind."
If he was worried before, now Malcolm is frightened. Despite his agreement with Mira to surreptitiously lead the party and pretend to Taylor that he's still in charge, the fact that they must do so much more openly now is terrifying. He's a teacher, not a leader - and he wouldn't know where to start. A trip to one of the Outposts is nothing in comparison to this; but he is the next senior member of the team after the Commander. It's him, or no one.
Mira sees his sudden shift in mood, and rises to her feet. Once, she would've viewed his nervous stress with scorn - but time has softened her bluntness, and instead, she stands beside him, also leaning on the rover, "Leave the survival aspect to me, Malcolm. I know what I'm doing, and I can keep us alive. Trust Dunham to look after the security team - regardless of last night's disaster, he's a damned good soldier and he'll rise to the challenge without any difficulty. It won't be easy - but all you have to do is agree with my decisions, let Dunham get on with it, and get on with your science. We'll deal with Taylor as we need to; but I think it's got to the point where we have no choice. We have to sideline him - and if he finds out, then that's just the way it'll have to be." She pauses, "Does Paula have sedatives in her med-pack?"
"Probably." Malcolm muses, "But I can't be sure - and how would we administer them anyway?"
"It's worth checking. We might end up with them as our only possible means of keeping Taylor under control if things get out of hand."
"I'll bear it in mind."
Their musings are interrupted by the sound of Taylor barking orders. It couldn't be clearer that he hasn't forgotten what happened last night, or that he still blames the security teams for the deadly blunder. Her expression grim, Mira rises from the rover, and fumbles in a pouch at her waist for her sextant, "Based on how long it would've taken the crew of the ship to get this far, I think it'll probably take us a good three or four more days to get to the likely spot. I'd get your rad-meter ready, I think. I'll take some readings and get us a bearing."
"Thanks Mira."
Taylor's mood is no better as they break camp and form up. Much as he appreciates that Mira has the knowledge that will take them from here, it still rankles with him that he is being obliged to follow someone who betrayed him so utterly. His ability to use old-fashioned means of navigation has long atrophied - and he only learned the theory anyway. By the time he was out in the field, navigation using the sun or the stars was so difficult that everyone was relying on GPS to tell them where they were. Not even Wash can help him with that problem - while she had certainly become adept at using a sextant, she doesn't have one with her.
"Why the hell didn't you bring your sextant with you?" he growls.
"It got stolen during the occupation, Commander," she answers easily, used to his occasional fits of bad temper, and not remotely concerned about them, "I can't take readings if I don't have the means. Mira does."
"And she didn't steal yours?"
Washington shrugs, "I doubt it. She wasn't part of the groups that were going round breaking into people's houses and confiscating anything they thought might be used against them. She's been out here before, so she must have one of her own." She pauses, as though considering an unpalatable subject, "Is it me, or is Malcolm a bit too friendly with her?"
God, the woman must be psychic, "I'm not sure." Taylor admits, "But he seems to be working with her a bit too closely for my liking."
She turns to him, "It wouldn't be the first time, would it?"
Taylor shakes his head, "No - that wasn't what it looked like, was it? He was working for them because people would get murdered if he didn't."
"That's what he says." Washington muses, "Just like he says two of the sixers tortured him."
Taylor looks at her, startled. It should be because she couldn't possibly know such a thing - but instead, he is shocked at the thought that Malcolm would have made it up. Perhaps he did…to cover up what he was doing…
He lapses back into silence, and continues to follow Malcolm's rover, though his mind is still turning over the possibility that his Chief Science Officer has betrayed them all and teamed up with a Sixer. After another four hours, the charge in his own vehicle is showing dangerously low levels, so he is obliged to call a halt, "Need to change batteries."
Washington smiles, "Always have to, sooner or later."
No one minds the stop, and people are soon out of the vehicles, stretching their legs, though Dunham has three of his team scouring their trail with long-range viewers, as there's no guarantee that they've shaken off their pursuers. It comes as no surprise to anyone that Malcolm is one of the first to fill his water-bottle at the tank in the second rhino - in spite of the different circumstances, he can't shake off his horror of thirst, but he also fills a second bottle, and wanders around to the rear of the column to hand it to the Lieutenant, mainly to touch base with him on how things are going.
"Not too bad at the moment, Doctor." Dunham reports, his eyes still on the horizon, "There's not so much cover here, so if there are still bambis on our trail, they're not too close by. I've got the weapons on full power in case I'm wrong, though."
"What's Mira up to?" Taylor's sudden interruption startles them both, and Malcolm turns to look back at whatever it is that the Commander is expecting him to see. To his confusion, she's just taking another reading, and making more calculations over the chart that they retrieved from Hooper's records.
"Er…it looks like she's taking some bearings, Commander?" he answers, a little nervously.
"The hell she is. Where's she taking us?"
"I'm not sure I follow you, Commander." Now he is bemused - has Taylor forgotten what they're out here for?
"Don't give me that, Malcolm. She's not in charge of this expedition - I am, and I don't take kindly to being sidelined. What're the two of you up to?"
"What do you mean?" Now Malcolm is completely confused - but also distinctly unnerved, "We're looking for the energy source that triggered the wormhole that brought the ship through. What else would we be doing?"
Taylor's eyes narrow, dangerously. It wouldn't be the first time that the Sixers have attempted to assassinate him - and this would be an easy way to do it - return without him, claim it to be a tragic accident, and then Terra Nova would be theirs to do with as they pleased…
Trapped between the back of the rhino, and the side of the one next to it, Malcolm has nowhere to run, and he fumbles for something that he can say that won't make matters worse - which is particularly challenging as he is more aware than he used to be of just how good he is at doing exactly that.
"Commander - I need to ask you something. Just one thing. Who did you put in charge of guarding the perimeter last night?"
"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
"Just answer the question." Despite his nervousness, Malcolm forces himself to square his shoulders, and look at least slightly authoritative, "If it wasn't Lieutenant Dunham, who assigned the watches last night?"
Taylor glares at him, "The only person I trust in this whole damn party, Malcolm." Though he volunteers no more than that.
Without a name, Malcolm decides to go for it, "Lieutenant Washington?"
That name turns everyone's heads, and the four soldiers are staring in disbelief. In spite of his nerves, Malcolm can see from Dunham's expression that suddenly a lot of things are falling into place. The failure of Taylor to confirm or deny the question merely settles it.
"Commander…" Malcolm pauses, and swallows nervously, "the Lieutenant isn't with the party - she isn't on our manifest. She…died…nearly two years ago." He is scared stiff of how that'll go down, and struggles to get the words out, hoping to God he hasn't triggered an explosion.
Unfortunately, he has.
Taylor's face darkens with rage, and his hand snatches up to clasp Malcolm by the throat, "Don't you dare try to pretend that you're doing this for the colony!" He snarls, viciously, "Lieutenant Washington is twice the man you are! And she's a woman! I haven't forgotten what you did when she was doing everything in her power to keep the colonists alive! And what're you doing? Teaming up with a goddam Sixer!"
Malcolm snatches at the Commander's wrist, choking under the iron grip, only to find himself slammed backwards into the wall of the rhino behind him so hard that his vision crazes for a moment.
"There's no way in hell that you're taking us into the desert to die, you damn traitor! I'll shoot you myself!"
His vision is starting to go, as he fights to breathe, but can't. Oh God - he's going to die out here, and it's at the Commander's hands…
And then, just as he is one the verge of passing out, the pressure upon his throat is suddenly loosed, and he drops to the ground heavily, struggling to force air back into his lungs. Slowly, as he regains his senses he looks up to find that the Commander has been toppled, and lies unconscious nearby, while Dunham stands over him, the butt of a pistol emerging from his fist.
"Sorry, Doctor. If I'd known he was going to do that, I'd've set my pistol on stun." Crouching beside Malcolm he looks concerned, "Are you alright?"
"I am now." He croaks, weakly, though the shock of the assault is still strong. Of all the things he had expected, being threatened with death while being strangled wasn't one of them, "Thank you, Lieutenant."
Mira is suddenly there, an improvised cosh in her hand, "Hell, what happened?"
"Taylor tried to kill me." Malcolm explains, slowly rising again, "I think it's safe to say that he's definitely compromised."
"And how." She agrees, "In which case, I guess it's now you in charge. For real."
Malcolm closes his eyes, of all the things he's being asked to do - that was the one thing he didn't want.
Now, however, it appears he's stuck with it.
Sitting at his desk, Jim wonders if he's done the right thing. Discretion might well be the better part of valour, but somehow, he can't help but feel that he chickened out of a confrontation last night - and now it's going to come and quite squarely bite him on the ass. It seems crazy - how on earth can anyone seriously organise mob rule in this place? But nonetheless the fact that someone seems to be trying is worrying, and Jim has no idea how to counter it.
Of course, it's no surprise that Parker is moving purely because Taylor's gone OTG. No one would dare challenge the Commander if he was still here - his aura of authority is all but tangible, and the respect that people have for him verges at times almost on the religious. Given that most people seem to have rejected God, they still need someone to worship, it appears.
He looks up as Elisabeth arrives, a flask of coffee in her hand, "I thought you might like this, given how little you slept last night." Her tone is a little pointed - and he is not surprised to find that he couldn't hide his worry from her.
"I'm sorry." He sighs, "I should've said something."
She frowns, and draws up a chair to sit with him, "What is it?"
"It looks like the Agriculture team are on the verge of throwing their own revolution." He admits, quietly, "And I haven't the first idea how to stop them."
Elisabeth's eyes widen in dismay, "Surely not - I know they form a large group in the Colony, but they're hardly a majority. What do they expect to do - overthrow us with pitchforks and billhooks?"
"If they do, then Guzman's going to have to deploy his soldiers - and that's the last thing Taylor would want." Jim sighs, "I'm hoping that this Parker guy'll come and confront me. Maybe I can head him off at the pass - invite him in and tell him this is his opportunity to spill."
"I don't think he wants to do that, Jim." Elisabeth reminds him.
"Maybe not - but if I do it, then he's got less of an excuse to say that we've ignored his complaints. The fact that he's ignored every opportunity so far to come and have a moan at us means it's pretty obvious he doesn't intend to; but he's telling everyone that Taylor's a dictator who doesn't care about them. If we make it clear that he's missed every chance to tell us what his problems are, perhaps people won't be so keen to listen to him." He opens the flask and pours out some of the coffee, "That's what I'm waiting for. If he was working up to it yesterday, then he might finally show his face in here today."
They look up as the door opens to admit Guzman, who has a piece of paper in his hand, and a worried expression on his face, "Thought you'd like to see this, Deputy. There are piles of them all over the marketplace."
Concerned, Jim reaches for it.
Comrades,
The time has come. With Taylor away, we are free to rise up and demand are rights as workers, not slaves. He does not care about you, or your families. He only cares about his soldiers and there privilidges. It is time to make a stand and take the colony for areselfs and are children.
If your with me. Be in the market square at 19.00, and we will claim are rights back from the elite who have taken them from us.
Your friend.
"Hell - are people taking this seriously?" Jim asks.
"I'm not sure," Guzman admits, "Most people who read it are looking at how badly written it is - but they might come along to see who their 'friend' actually is. Even if they don't support whoever wrote this note, it's going to look almost like they do."
"What's the word on the ground? Most people don't tell me much, but I've always assumed it's because they haven't got much to tell."
"I'd say that it's mostly because you're right. People who live and work in the main compound don't tend to have a problem with Taylor - but most of my teams reported at least a degree of resentment while they were out helping with the planting. Even though they were there, apparently they were 'doing it wrong' or 'not doing it fast enough' or a hundred and one other petty criticisms. It's as though the people who were whining that the soldiers never did anything wouldn't cut them any slack, and they were still trying to find things to be resentful about."
"It can't be everyone, can it?" Elisabeth asks, "Surely the entire agriculture department isn't supporting this?"
"I guess we'll find out tonight." Jim sighs, "Call Max - she needs to be here, and Chris and Raj. If we present a united front, perhaps that might shut them up."
The gathering in the marketplace is worryingly large. From his vantage point on the balcony, Jim isn't sure how many have come to protest, and how many have just come to gawk. He can only hope that the gawkers are in the majority - he can't be certain.
Yseult looks nervous, "Look at them all - are they all here because the note said to be?"
"Probably." Jim admits, "Though I think most are here to see who wrote it - I imagine he's going to do the big reveal this evening."
"I don't like to bust your bubble, Jim," Chris looks very concerned, "Most of the people here are from my departments - and, judging by the noise in the shed yesterday, there are a lot of them with axes to grind."
"Then why the hell haven't they come to us about them?" Guzman hisses, quietly, "Taylor can't address grievances if people don't raise them."
"I've been trying to figure that one out for the last few weeks." Chris admits, "God knows - but it's hard to be a man with an axe to grind if people are keen to help you resolve the problem that you're building up into a massive problem that only you can solve."
His eyes on the crowd below, Jim realises that he's never actually seen the man that they think to be behind the entire movement. He wouldn't have a clue who Bob Parker is - and doesn't even know if he's actually in the crowd below, or sitting at home having a good laugh at how gullible people can be. That said, he would rather it was the latter.
"Is it me," Raj asks, "Or is that crowd getting ugly?"
There's no denying it: there's a definite atmosphere down there. If it is Bob Parker who's been firing them up, then he's been doing a very good job of it. Now that he's thinking about it, Jim regrets gathering the senior staff together like this - he couldn't have looked more 'us and them' if he'd tried.
"There he is." Chris says, suddenly. Following his gaze, Jim watches as a stocky, ruddy-cheeked man of medium height saunters through the crowd with an air of assurance that might be pride, or arrogance; possibly both. Whatever he's got planned, he's confident - that's for sure.
Ignoring the gathered staff on the balcony, he plants himself on the first sequence of steps and raises his hands for quiet.
"Comrades! The question of the governance of our Colony is now on the order of the day. The elite, in whose hands the power now rests, desire a bourgeois republic, that is, a state system where power remains in the hands of the elites who govern the country by means of the old institutions, namely: police, bureaucracy, and a standing army.
"We desire a different republic, one more in keeping with the interests of the people, more democratic. All power in the state, from the bottom up, must belong to the Workers, Agricultural Labourers, Builders and others who toil with their hands and sweat. The central state power uniting these groups must be a Constituent Assembly, National Assembly, or Council no matter by what name you call it.
"Not the police, not the bureaucracy, who are unanswerable to the people and placed above the people, not the army, separated from the people, but the people themselves must run the state. It is they who will establish the necessary order, it is they whose authority will not only be obeyed, but also respected, by the workers.
"Only this power can solve the great question of the land in a non-bureaucratic way and not in the interests of Taylor and his fellow elites. The land must not belong to the landowners, but to all.
"Do not allow the police to be re-established, do not let the state power or the administration of the state pass into the hands of the bureaucracy, who are non-elective, undisplaceable, and paid on a bourgeois scale; get together, unite, organise yourselves, trusting no one, depending only on your own intelligence and experience—and our home will be able to move with a firm, measured, unerring tread toward the liberation of both our own country and of all humanity from the yoke of slavery!
"Stand with me, and reject authoritarian rule - claim your homes for yourselves. Taylor has stood over us for long enough - and it is time for us to govern ourselves. I submit myself to you as a temporary leader, who will ensure that Terra Nova will be governed by the people, for the people. We have been given a new world - we must claim it for our families, for our children - for our future!"
Jim stares at the man below, "God, he's a better speaker than I expected."
"The hell he is," Yseult snorts, "he's lifted most of it from Lenin."
"Pardon?"
"One of my boyfriends at University was into Marxism. He had collection of speeches by Lenin - and that was one of his favourites. It's the speech Lenin gave to the Ismailovsky Regiment in 1917. Bruno used to drive everyone nuts with it - and it's one of the reasons why I split with him."
"I don't blame you."
He hasn't finished, though, "When Taylor left, he did not trust us to govern ourselves in his absence - but appointed one of his favourites. I say it's time to end such cronyism! Look at them all - standing up there above us as though they're our betters!" he turns, "Come down here, Jim Shannon! Come on - if you're one of us, then stand down here and talk to us!"
He doesn't hesitate. Leaving his colleagues where they are, Jim comes down to the halfway point, but no further, "If you have such a problem with us, Bob. Why haven't you told us about it? It's not like we haven't given you the chance. How many of Taylor's surgeries have you been to? What about Chris's open forum meetings?"
"And you think that they would make a difference?"
"And you think they wouldn't? How d'you know if you never came to one?"
"Enough with that shit," Parker snorts, "Either you come down here and we have a vote, or get back up there and leave us to it. Either way, you're not in charge of this colony." He turns back to the crowd, "I'm offering you a chance to get back the democracy you left behind! When have you had a vote here? When has Taylor ever done anything to help you? We could've made a deal with Weaver - but instead he left us all to be occupied - because he didn't want them to mess up his stupid pipe dreams of a new utopia! Well, we're done with it. Who's with me?"
For a moment, there silence, and Jim is hopeful that his words have fallen on stony ground.
"If we stand together, then we can stop the military!" he continues, "Keep what you grow and supply it on your own terms, not though a collective that benefits only the scientists and soldiers! We deserve to be heard, too! Are you with me?"
It begins as a low murmuring, but the crescendo soon starts to build. To his dismay, Jim can see that the current is very much in Parker's favour, and it's surging like a tidal bore up an estuary.
"PAR-KER! PAR-KER! PAR-KER!"
The chant is horrible to hear, and Jim fights with himself not to retreat up the stairs. God - how could Parker have done that so easily? But then - they couldn't counter a popular movement that they couldn't see. All of his work over the last few months has been building to this - and in a matter of minutes, he has swept himself to the forefront of a popular revolution. Just like that.
Pausing only to shoot a smug glance in Jim's direction, Parker shouts out that they intend to gather a few people together to set up the electoral process for a representative council, and will adjourn to that same shed that they'd held that meeting in - shed 10. From tomorrow, it seems, he shall be the interim head of the colony, and the 'elite' shall no longer be relevant.
Guzman comes down to join Jim, his expression bleak, "If I deploy soldiers, then it'll go to hell. I don't want bloodshed."
"Me neither." Jim sighs, "Hell - Taylor's gonna flip when he gets back."
Yseult comes down as well, her expression nervous, "Is it just me, or - when they started chanting 'par-ker like that, did it sound a bit like sieg heil?" She shudders.
The two men look at her, and exchange a glance. Now that she's mentioned it – yes: it kind of did.