Left behind after The Fleet had liberated them. They were given some manufacturing equipment, more raw resources than they could reasonably work with, and told 'good luck.' Now Akim found himself keeping this community alive. He was no leader, nor was he blessed with the knowledge of how to work the land. He was a tinkerer, a maker, and modifier of devices large and small. It was a useful trade when there were so many devices needed to keep a human settlement alive, especially in a landscape torn apart by warfare.
The scrappers had brought in a new haul, plenty of good tech, just left behind. He didn't mind seeing as the collection of abandoned devices that amounted to modern philosopher stones kept him in business. It was almost all military technology, borderline unhackable, but he didn't need to hack it. He erased it and repurposed it for new, much more valuable tasks. Environment controllers, communication devices, cargo drones. The needs of the settlement were significant, and he would provide, one miracle at a time.
Admiral Fletcher was in his quarters. He had little to do as he had passed off negotiations with the new faction to one of his Lower Rear Admirals. Apparently, they were from a faction that referred to themselves as 'The Clans of the Helix.' According to them, they used to be a collection of mining stations in the Helix Nebula, which made them the farthest-flung human settlement on record.
Supposedly they were part of a four-system alliance united under 'The Marcos Accords.' A treaty named after the man who united the systems. Apparently, it had been part of a somewhat hushed initiative of the United Systems Alliance to attempt to create a secondary sphere of human expansion. It was a good idea on paper, and the systems were at least self-sustaining even if they were having some minor issues.
Due to their distance from the front lines and the rest of human space in general, attempting to exert political control over them was likely an exercise in futility. But a trade alliance wasn't out of the question. Admiral Fletcher was prepared to send a small detachment of ships to provide any immediate aid those systems might need. Doing so would help generate the goodwill necessary to establish such an alliance.
As the Admiral was pondering such thoughts, the Gringolet's Central Intelligence brushed against his own. A text file was dropped into his implant, and the Intelligence withdrew, returning to its tasks. He opened the report allowing the text to scroll onto his vision. A signal had been transmitted from the known location of the Grand Arbiter. It had been intercepted and jammed before it could reach its destinations.
Those destinations were currently being investigated, but it was believed that activation codes for bombs had been sent out. Likely nuclear bombs buried in locations designed to maximize damage to the infrastructure and ecosystem of the planet. It was the ultimate scorched earth ploy and not unsurprising given what Admiral Fletcher had gathered of Grand Arbiter Cirillo's temperament. Just one more reason for her to die sooner rather than later. It seemed that a rebel group had been handed responsibility for assassinating her. It was a good call that he hadn't made, but endorsed after the fact nonetheless.
He shook his head, clearing it of thoughts of the battlefield, everything was in hand, and this was supposed to be time for him to decompress and relax. He turned to his viewscreen and put on a drama he was slowly working his way through. Vanessa had just found out Brad was cheating on her, and he was terribly intrigued as to what she would do with that information.
***
Rahul had been nervous about leaving his house that morning to go for a walk, but he couldn't shut himself into his apartment forever. He'd prefer to sit at a computer all day, toying with the code for the manufacturing plants like a gremlin fiddling with strange arcane toys in a dark cave. However, his preferences weren't something he was allowed to consider at the moment. There were greater forces at play, and he would just have to be a marionette for a bit. He had prepared himself as much as he could beforehand, and all that was left, was to leave his apartment.
His grip tightened on the latch, and with ease that did little to reflect his monumental internal struggle, he stepped through the threshold. He was immediately greeted by the sight of a drone keeping an eye on his door. It was doing nothing to hide its presence or the fact that its camera was tracking him as he walked. Keith, curse the bastard, had recently created a media initiative that would allocate some public funds to local news organizations. This was likely the result of that initiative. He sighed, knowing that he wouldn't have the same easy time pushing through policy if he became Governor. There would be a representative council to deal with by that time. He'd already seen campaign ads for local offices appearing everywhere.
As he went about his day, he noticed people staring at him like before. He managed to get to the local grocery dispensary without being hassled and began to peruse the shelves. There was little in the way of variety as the planet's food supply had been chiefly reduced to government provided nutri-cubes, with vegetables when possible. The aid shipments coming from The Avalon were changing that though, and soon those shipments would be paid for in mineral wealth. They'd have to be importing more than food long-term in order to make it worth exporting all of the planet's minerals however.
Rahul broke off that train of thought. Those were thoughts for after he got himself elected. He selected a few days worth of ingredients and placed them in the bag he'd brought along before making his way to the register. The dispensary had tracked the items he'd taken, and all he had to do was pay. A quick scan of his coin chit later, and he left the dispensary only to have his fears of the day realized.
Outside the dispensary, a crowd had grown. Several people had tablets raised to take pictures and capture video. He smiled wanly at the group and waved. A man separated himself from the crowd and approached confidently. He held up a wireless microphone and asked, "So, Rahul Bava, you've become known as something of a hero here on Hephaestus. Your exploits were so impressive you even managed to earn an early retirement from military service. Would you care to comment on your plans going forward? Will you stay here or go elsewhere? Perhaps to your home planet?"
Rahul took a breath to steady himself. His implant brought up the notes and snippets he'd prepared for just such an occurrence, and he glanced at them, refreshing his memory before speaking. "Well, I'm not sure how much you know about me, but when I was a teenager, my home was invaded by the enemy who we usually call 'The Slugs.' They have their own name for themselves, and apparently, the races they have conquered worship them as gods. In my native tongue, we call them 'Shaitaan,' our word for Devil. Because only Devil’s would do what they did to our people. I won't go into details, as it's still a very painful memory, but that invasion left me as the only surviving member of my family."
The crowd that had been chattering and murmuring before had gone silent as they listened to him speak. He saw more than one look of pity in the group. He did his best not to see, keeping his focus on the reporter who was listening in rapt attention. He continued, "So I could go back to my homeworld, but there would be little for me there. The Avalon Fleet adopted me and became my adopted home. Now that I've left the service I might as well stay here and try to do some good."
The reporter nodded enthusiastically, his head bobbing up and down at such a rapid speed that it worried Rahul. "So if you're planning to stay here do you have any plans of running for public office? There are rumors that you might make a bid for Governor. Would you care to comment on that?"
Rahul had to give the reporter credit for getting to the point. At least that meant he could get the official announcement out of the way then. "Yes, I do plan on running for Governor. I think that as Hephaestus moves forward an outside perspective, my perspective will help in the rebuilding and fortification of the planets economy."
The reporter's head made another impression of a ricocheting bullet as he continued, "I see, you don't perhaps think that a local would make a better candidate? After all, someone who's been living here their whole lives would be better in touch with the issues don't you think?", the reporter's bright tone belied the pointed question.
Rahul nodded, "You make a good point, and perhaps you might even be right. However, I firmly believe that my outside perspective will be of value to the initial development of the economy. I think that someone who has been living here for their whole lives will be blinded by the symptoms rather than the disease. They'll allocate funds for immediate improvements and neglect long-term development in doing so. They'll import food certainly, but may forget to bring in educators, scientists, and engineers. A local will certainly make life better now, and I plan on doing some of that. But I don't want to neglect this planet's future." Rahul knew that what he said might end up being a bit controversial, but he firmly believed what he said, and if he was going to be forced to run for Governor, then it would at least be on his ideas.
The reporter's expression wavered slightly, but they continued on in their bright tone, "So are you saying we shouldn't be importing food and that we should continue on starvation rations? That we shouldn’t be trying to repair local infrastructure?" the reporter was clearly on the attack now.
Rahul kept his sigh to himself. Keith had predicted this when Rahul had sent him his ideas and had helped him prepare responses. "I think that those things are indeed important, but that's what Commander Keith Walsh, the current Governor, is working on. I believe that continuing his initiatives will be enough to cover that front. Why continue working on a problem when the solution is already implemented and just needs time to do it's work? The here and now is important and I will not neglect it, but investing in this planet's future is important too. I want to create a world that isn't just a one-off stop for minerals. I want to create a world that's a one-stop shop for everything, from ships and electronics, to art and the latest engineering advances. And we can't do that if the only thing we import with our minerals is food. We need to purchase talent and bring it here to stay and enrich our children's futures."
The reporter looked excited as he started into his next question, "And how do you propose to do all this, what is your specific policy plan? Are you planning to expand the current Governor's education initiative?"
Rahul held up his free hand, "I'd love to talk about this, but in case you didn't notice, I'm still holding a bag of groceries. It's not terribly heavy, but even so, standing here just holding it is starting to get a bit wearing. If you'd like, I'd be happy to answer your questions somewhere that isn't right outside a grocery dispensary." Rahul smiled, hiding his very real frustration. Getting tired of holding the bag wasn't just him trying to escape, his arm was getting genuinely sore from holding it. He shifted the load to his other hand to relieve the one arm as he watched the reporter's expression turn to embarrassment.
"Ah, yes, I suppose I have held you up as you're going about your day. I'll leave you to it, but let me share my contact details with you, and we can do a more formal interview at a time that works for you." The reporter held out his tablet, and Rahul nodded, syncing his implant to the device. The reporter's look of surprise when he didn't hold out his own tablet to receive the contact details was priceless.
He waved goodbye to the reporter and the crowd. Some of them looked like they had wanted to come up for autographs or pictures, but his comment about the grocery bag seemed to have held off all but the most enthusiastic. And those people were held back by the more reasonable among them when they tried to step forward as he was leaving.
The trip back to his apartment was thankfully uneventful, and he let out a sigh as he closed his door. The tension from the interview seemed to leave his body with the exhale as he slumped against the door. He would have to get used to this eventually, but right now, even that short interview had taken it out of him. He got up and doggedly put away his groceries. The reporter had already sent him an appointment request for the next day, and he accepted. He sent a message to Keith letting him know what happened before collapsing into his desk chair. The next few weeks were going to be hell, he could already tell.
