William E. Lopez
Approx. 1,490 words
A senator’s
daughter is kidnapped.
The Campaign
©2003 by W. E. Lopez
“There’s no doubt in my mind, my
daughter was kidnapped by rebel sympathizers,” Senator Alan Tucker said to the assembled
members of the news media.
“What proof or indications do you
have to support your supposition, Senator?” Wally Springer of the community of
Middlesboro asked.
“Proof?” Tucker shouted. “Who would have anything to gain, other than
the rebels? Our colony on Tau Ceti is successful and
prosperous…”
“Tell that to the rebels,” a voice
from the crowd yelled.
“…except for a small contingent of
malcontents. Many of you… many of us,”
he said, anxious to gain their support by identifying himself as one of them,
“were failures or worse on Earth. Many
were dissatisfied with the over crowding, the food and energy rationing, and
eternal government restrictions.
“Those of you with skills and
training essential to the colony were given free transportation by ConDel, and here you’ve prospered on a fertile planet
unspoiled by thousands of years of so-called ‘progress.’”
“Not everyone volunteered,” another
heckler shouted. “At least sixty percent
of the colony is made up of convict transportees with
more arriving all the time. A third of
our taxes go to supporting security forces to keep the convicts from getting
the upper hand—yet they seem to be making progress in that direction everyday.”
“Alright, alright,” Senator Tucker
answered. “Earth needs a place to dispose
of criminals, without straining domestic resources already severely reduced by
an abundant population. ConDel ships them here and we give them a fresh start after
five years of indentured service. They
can work off their sentence and become useful members of a brave new
society. When their term has been
completed, each is given land, livestock and farming implements and they can
start over with a clean slate. The
administration needs productive citizens, and our convicts have more
opportunities here than they could ever hope to achieve on Earth.”
“Then why the rebellion?” a woman
asked.
“We’re getting away from the subject
at hand,” the senator replied. “Every
society has internal problems to one degree or another, but my problem at the
moment is the kidnapping of my daughter.
I have asked the governor to grant me a platoon of security forces for
an immediate investigation, and if necessary, I’ve been assured he will make an
entire company available to me.”
“Is there any truth to the rumor of
this being merely a ploy to generate sympathy for your campaign, Senator
Tucker? It’s being whispered your
daughter is merely in hiding and will surface after the election with a tale of
a miraculous escape and strengthen your aggressive position against the rebels.”
“I would not stoop to such a
contemptible scheme, Mr. Bensen. I’ve always had strong support from the
citizens on your home turf of Lowell Creek.
I’m sure I can count on their votes again to return me to the colonial
senate where I can support them as I always have.”
“Is that an evasion, senator?”
“I’m sorry, Tom, that’s all we have
time for today. I know you all have a
great deal of traveling before you get back to your districts, and as the
officially appointed Town Criers you’ll want to get home with the news without
delay. I thank you for attending this
information conference and I’ll send messengers if I have anything more to
report. Thank you all for attending.”
Alan Tucker gave a perfunctory wave
of his hand and quickly left the plaza to return to his office in the
“That was close,” Jeff said as he
closed the door to Tucker’s office. “How
do you suppose Bensen came so close to the truth,
Alan?”
“Those confounded news-hawks have a
nose for sniffing out a story, Jeff, and they’re much better at it than a fly is
sniffing out stink on shit. I don’t
think Bensen really has a source, he’s just
fishing. He’s chumming and hoping for a
bite. Any reports on Diana yet?”
“No, sir, nothing new. Intelligence sources have confirmed she is
voluntarily among the rebels, which is why I suggested the kidnapping story to
avoid any reflection on you until after the election. When you’ve won, we’ll have another six years
to dazzle the people and they will forget this incident by the next
election. When that time comes, we can
probably expect them to be sympathetic to you as the suffering father, deserted
by his rebellious daughter.”
“I hope you’re right, Jeff, I really
do. This firecracker could cost me the
election.”
“I doubt that, senator. People are just sheep, waiting to be led by a
strong leader such as you. A man trained
in psychology can teach you which buttons to push to make the sheep feel you
should be that leader. That’s what you
pay me for, Alan.”
“Do I pay you enough to insure your
loyalty, Jeff?”
“You pay me enough to buy you lunch,
Alan, and my stomach has been complaining for the past hour. Let’s get out of here and get something to
eat.”
The two men adjourned to Port of
Call, an elegant restaurant strategically located near the
Throughout dinner, the two men spoke
of the campaign and Jeff reassured the senator he would win easily. Alan Tucker ate sparingly off his plate but
soon ordered a second bottle of wine.
Jeff felt if the senator should lose this election, he would have no one
to blame except himself and Jeff would have to seek a new boss. Perhaps he should put out feelers among the
rebels? It certainly seemed they were
gaining supporters by the bushel these days, and just a few military victories
by their out numbered forces could stampede the administration right out of
office.
As they neared the completion of
their meal, a waiter appeared with the check.
Jeff set it aside and stared at the retreating waiter—he didn’t appear
to be the same one who had served their meal.
Had the shift changed at the restaurant?
Alan Tucker grabbed the leather
wallet with their bill and opened it. “I
appreciate your offer to buy lunch, Jeff, but please allow an old man the perqs that go with his office.” As he glanced at the check a folded slip of
paper fluttered to the floor. Jeff
recovered it and gasped….
“I’m sorry, senator, someone has just
lit the fuse on our firecracker and it’s about to blow up in our faces.”
“Eh?
What, Jeff?”
“Your daughter and half a dozen
rebels stopped several of the media as they left town. She wanted to make her side of the story
known, and it’s not good for us. Diana
says the government is corrupt and certain officials, including you, are
profiting from land schemes and price fixing by the administration commissary
officer.”
“Preposterous, Jeff! She can’t prove any of that! We kept all our dealings extremely private.”
“At this point in the game, Alan, she
doesn’t need proof. The election is only
ten days away and the prosecuting attorney could not obtain an indictment, much
less present a case… meaning you cannot clear yourself if you could. But it’s worse than that, Alan…”
“Worse? What could possibly be worse? This is going to ruin me and half the
remaining senators. It will convince the
public to side with the rebels and the administration is going to come crashing
down, Jeff!”
“That’s obvious, Alan. Every house needs a good cleaning once in
awhile. I meant the situation has become
worse because this note was delivered right here among the elite and powerful,
Alan. The rebels have infiltrated
Central City and have no fear of making their presence felt right in the heart
of the administration.” Jeff looked glum
and chose this moment to pour a glass of Chardonnay for himself. Maybe he’d even order another bottle since
this would apparently be his last day working for the senator.
“But you can fix it, Jeff. You said a good psychologist could put a spin
on anything to make the voters believe and support us.”
“I did say that, Alan, and I’m good
at my job. But not even I can do the
impossible. I’ll be leaving town
now. I have to see a rebel commander
about a job….”