A Just Farewell by Brian S. Wheeler Page B

wouldn’t wait to
summon all the governors for another round of debate and voting.
I’m afraid the situation forces you to take individual action.”
     
    “I understand,” Governor Praxis nodded.
     
    Yet General Harrison noticed the panic that
flashed in Governor Praxis’ eyes in the second before his face
vanished and the communications monitor went dark. Like most all of
his peers, Governor Praxis feared making any choice on his own,
feared any decision whose repercussions couldn’t be carefully
charted, whose impact on the registered, voting public’s regard
couldn’t be squeezed into an objective and clear pie chart. He
doubted Governor Praxis’ castle would make the simplest of
sacrifices in power consumption before the governor had the chance
to debate the energy cutting measures with the other governors. He
doubted Governor Praxis would ask his constituents to sacrifice a
single comfort before the governor knew that the populace of all
the other castles were required to do the same. The barbarians and
their bombs ascended to their foothold in the stars, and still
General Harrison feared that hesitation and fear would stiffen
those governors like stone until it was too late to prevent those
tribes from pulling that last of civilization into the grave.
     
    General Harrison wondered if he would act
any differently if he occupied a governor’s executive desk. He used
to take comfort by thinking that the ribbons pinned to the chest of
his uniform promised that he would. Only, a doubt recently entered
his estimation of himself. Governor Kelly Chen had followed her
heart. She had displayed that rare integrity so often lacking in
the other governors when she had voted according to her conviction
and stood alone in her dissent against the ultimate answer’s
implementation. And as reward for her courage, the weight of the
world settled upon her shoulders. General Harrison wasn’t sure if
he could withstand the pressures that woman was no doubt currently
feeling as she wrestled with the question if what remained of Earth
deserved to be preserved, of if it was best to entirely obliterate
the ruin so that the planet’s infection never touched the
stars.
     
    General Harrison tapped the mahogany surface
of his desk to open a communications channel.
     
    “This is Engineer Dixon in the power plant.
What can we do for you General?”
     
    “Place our castle on the strictest energy
restrictions. I want to divert all the juice we can into our energy
reserves.”
     
    “Yes sir, general.”
     
    The lights in General Harrison’s office
instantly dimmed. It wouldn’t take much time before his office
turned cold enough to turn his breath to vapor. But a thick coat
would make him warm again, and his eyes would well enough adjust to
his dark surroundings. All of those things were very minor
discomforts, and General Harrison was thankful he didn’t have to
struggle with the dilemma set upon Governor Chen’s desk. He doubted
anyone deserved the light and the warmth more than her.
     
    * * * * *
     

Chapter 10 – A Boy Given a Purpose

    Abraham woke as something scratched the back
of his hand. Dirt stung in his face as he opened his eyes to see
his loyal and orange cockroach friend climbing up his arm to reach
his shoulder, where the bug took a perch as its fine antennae
sniffed at Abraham’s scratched face, as if checking for hurts the
boy may have suffered during the onslaught of the orbiting castle’s
guns. A pain in his neck caused Abraham to wince as he turned his
face back and forth to scan the chamber in search of Alexis and
Cassandra. The twins huddled together and sobbed against the
chamber’s opposite wall, on the other side of the pile of earth
that had fallen from a segment of collapsed ceiling. Abraham gently
set his bug friend upon the ground and coughed as he crawled
through the dust to reach the girls. Blood clotted from a cut
Cassandra suffered on her forehead, likely from where a falling
chunk of