UNIVERSAL TURBULENT

XXI - PLANET EARTH

Leshi Quinn nodded and glanced at the wall display. The steadily dwindling numbers indicated that only two hours and thirteen minutes remained until one of NI's subsidiaries would seize control of seventy two percent of the planet's voice, data, and video networks along with ninety four percent of the deep space com gear. "Yes, Governor, Zuon is ready, or will be at 0 600 hours local".

Sandral nodded. "Excellent. And what of our allies?"

Senator Vaano had left many days before in order to ensure that he would be seen on board the Kindred before the s**t hit the fan. His job was to slow if not actually prevent response by the Confederacy.

Ambassador Hardin Ishimoto-Seven was present, however, he was preparing to leave. He had bobbed his head. "My ship lifts within the hour. I will do everything I can to bring the Hegemony around".

Sandral was well aware of the fact that Ishimoto-Seven lacked the full support of his government, but hoped he'd find the means to secure it. She nodded politely and allowed her eyes to play over the rest of the faces before her.

Some had been with Sandral for a long time; others were new, or drawn from the ranks of Zuon Inc. and the military. Responsibility for maintaining critical services would rest on their shoulders. An important task if they hoped for any support.

The staff looked the way she felt: tired, nervous, and more than a little worried. The politician forced one of her famous smiles. "This is it, folks... The chance we've been waiting for. Earth will be independent by this time tomorrow!" There were expressions of enthusiasm, followed by light applause, but no one cheered.

* * *

Ultimately, long after the revolt was a matter of historical record, and a legion of staff officers, desk jockeys, and associated academics had finished their various studies, analysis, and just plain guesswork, the more knowledgeable among them would conclude that a key factor in the way things ended up was Naval Captain Tyson Salom, and her dedication to a game called "contract bridge".

Their conclusion would stem from the fact that Salom, commanding officer of the Confederacy ship - Chameleon, came off duty at 0300 shipboard time, and after retiring to her quarters for a quick shower, set out for Admiral Mona Kenty's cabin, where she and some other officers were scheduled to play bridge.

On her way to that appointment, Salom just happened to pass the com center, heard the sounds of a scuffle, and looked inside. A sailor lay on the deck, and a pair of combat-clad Marines circled Chief Petty Officer Grinnell. They had knives, which the noncom countered with the jacket wrapped around his left forearm.

Salom hadn't been noticed yet. She spotted a fire extinguisher, pulled it off the bulkhead, and swung it through the air. Metal connected with bone, and A Marine collapsed.

The officer turned to find that the second solider was down as well. The knife that protruded from the Marine's chest looked a lot like his own. Grinnell checked the soldier's pulse, shook his head sadly, and stood. "Morning, Captain... Sorry about the mess".

Salom raised an eyebrow. "What the hell happened here, Chief?"

The petty officer shrugged. "Damned if I know. I stepped out for a cup of Java, came back, and saw Hoya lying on the deck. I bent over to check his pulse. That was when the grunts jumped me. Nice going, by the way... The missus thanks you".

Salom heard the thud, thud, thud, of muffled gunshots and bent to retrieve the Marine's sidearm. A quick check confirmed that it was loaded with low-velocity ammo - a must on any spaceship. She gestured to the other body. "Grab a weapon, Chief... We've got trouble".

The CPO nodded, grabbed the second soldier's pistol, and followed the CO out into the corridor. A klaxon sounded, they heard a scream, and the mutiny was under way.

* * *

The shot was arranged so that the Global Operations Center filled the background. The planetary news network had agreed to carry the feed. The rest would go along or look stupid. Sandral Usmos felt irritable and a little bit jumpy. She was grateful when the makeup person finished and backed away. A cute little morsel who might be fun under the right circumstances.

There were two cameras, one of which sat on a heavy carriage, while the second hovered thirty feet away. The director had a thin, dissipated look. He wore black and smiled nervously. "All right, people... Thirty to air... Count the governor down".

Sandral felt a tightness at the pit of her stomach. This was it, the moment from which there was no way back, and upon which the rest of her life would depend. "Three... Two... And cue".

The politician saw a crew person point in her direction and knew she was on. People all over the world frowned as their holo tanks went black and came up again. Quinn smiled knowingly. Sandral looked into the lens. "Good morning, good afternoon, or good evening. This is Governor Sandral Usmos, speaking from the newly established Global Operations Center".

The director whispered something into his intercom, and a picture of the GOC flooded the nets.

"The purpose of this facility", Sandral continued, "is to provide a temporary seat for the new Earth government until such time as a more appropriate venue can be established".

The director cut to a medium shot of her torso and ordered the camera to zoom in. Sandral allowed herself to frown, but not too much. Just enough to convey some concern. "Most, if not all of you are aware of the manner in which our population has been systematically abused. Think about it... Which race suffered the most casualties during the Midvalian war? We did. Who pays the taxes necessary to support the bloated bureaucracy? We do. Who suffers as a result of ill-conceived military cutbacks? We do".

Sandral paused to let her words sink in. The hover cam cruised from one end of the room to another. The shot conveyed order, purpose, and a sense of calm. There was a dissolve followed by a montage of beggars.