Offices of the Supreme Council for the Preservation of the Faith, City of McNair, Planet Commitment
Merrick massaged temples split by the sudden onset of yet another in a long line of shockingly intense headaches as the Council erupted around him in a storm of furious argument.
The issue of the moment-what else did they talk about these days? Merrick thought morosely-was Faith’s continuing slide into anarchy. Merrick watched through pain-slitted eyes as Polk defended himself furiously against the charge leveled by Merrick’s supporters that the entire situation had been caused by Polk’s protection of Herris and the stinking web of corruption that Herris had woven through the entire fabric of Faith’s economy.
Merrick cursed quietly to himself as Polk refused to be moved. Polk’s association with the late and unlamented Herris was the only chink in the bloody man’s armor, and Merrick had tried every way he could to exploit that weakness. But Polk had not given an inch and wasn’t going to.
Time to call off the dogs, Merrick thought. This is going nowhere.
He smashed his hand down on the table, the noise cutting through the argument. “Enough! The situation on Faith has clearly deteriorated to a point where I intend to establish a formal inquiry into the causes of the problem. We need to know why we’ve ended up where we have and what we can do to avoid further outbreaks. I’m sure I have your support on this.”
Nice try, you old buzzard, Polk said to himself, but there was no way he was going to let Merrick off the hook. Polk loaded his voice with what he fondly imagined to be equal parts sincerity and doubt. Merrick thought he just sounded sarcastic. “Well, Chief Councillor, I’m not sure we need one. We-”
Merrick could not contain himself. “Not sure?” he shouted, voice crackling with anger. “Not fucking sure? What was I just watching? A bloody high school debate? Nothing is more obvious than the fact that we need an inquiry. If the Council cannot agree to that, then what good is it?”
“I’m sorry, but I am afraid I cannot possibly agree,” Polk said smoothly, eyes flitting across the faces of the rest of the Council as he double-checked that he had the numbers. He was pretty sure he did; he wished he could be absolutely sure. His heart pounded at the terrible risk he was about to take.
Pushing any doubts aside, Polk forced himself to radiate confidence. “No, as I say, I cannot agree, and I think you’ll find if you put the matter to the vote that the Council does not agree, either. It is of course up to you, but I do think we have talked enough.”
In the face of Polk’s cool assurance, the brief glimmer of hope that had sprung into Merrick’s eyes as Polk had made the challenge died as quickly as it had come. Shit, Merrick thought. He thinks-he knows he’s got the numbers. A quick look at the faces around the table confirmed his worst fears. Kraa damn it. The nonaligned councillors refused to look at him, so they were gone, and even his own supporters looked shaky. He’d lost.
Merrick’s voice was quiet, barely concealing his bitterness at the defeat he’d just been handed by Polk. “No, Councillor. I don’t think that will be necessary. Unless anyone thinks it should be voted on right now, why don’t we sleep on it? I’ll put it on the agenda for next week.”
Polk’s triumph was obvious. Got you, you Kraa-damned son of a bitch, he thought. He’d taken Merrick to the edge, and the bloody man hadn’t liked what he’d seen. But Merrick had better get used to it because the next time he wasn’t going to let him back away.
With a stomach acid-bitter with defeat, Merrick had no option but to move the meeting on. He had needed that inquiry to give himself the best possible chance of shifting the blame away from himself and onto Herris and, by extension, Polk. But Polk knew that as well as he did, and so did the rest of the Council. Much as they hated Polk, they needed him if only to keep Merrick in check.
Merrick cursed silently.
He shouldn’t have been surprised. Things had changed, and maybe Jesse Merrick was no longer a man to be feared. But Polk was.