The Wasteland Soldier, Book 1, A Fractured World

Sixteen

"As First Minister," explained Chancellor Gozan. "You will relinquish your weekly pass for Hamble Towers and be granted a lifetime one. Though not a residential one and I urge caution at over indulgence. Naturally, it will be expected of you to continue living within the House of Leadership."

Mason ran his eyes over the outer compound of the Towers, an impressive white walled building set beyond a curved bridge with an armed checkpoint at each end. The water below looked choppy and flowed down to the Trade Zone. The front building was allocated to security, an elite unit of the Red Guard, who checked and verified all passes before entry was permitted, and a small team of administrators, who registered any complaints or compliance issues and also arranged for the delivery of supplies. Through this building was the main area, a thoroughfare lined with hotels for short term stays. There were glorious apartment buildings, where retired men of power and ex-officers from the Red Guard lived out their twilight years, knowing only pleasure and luxury, whatever a man or woman desired. It was an island paradise, a dream for every citizen of the city. No one was excluded. Anyone could work and trade to earn a pass.

"What do you think?"

"I am very grateful, Chancellor Gozan."

The sun was weak, straining to have any impact, and both men wore thick coats over neatly pressed ministerial suits. Gozan had opted to retain his suit. At a glance, he did not look like a Chancellor, but his narrow face and watchful eyes showed him as a man of considerable power. Those watchful eyes studied his new First Minister, easily thirty years younger, impressive and strong looking, competent in his duties, popular within the House of Leadership, charming even, a trait Gozan despised. He himself had been resourceful as a First Minister, it had always been more than paperwork and speeches, and he had seen glimpses of these talents within Mason but his loyalty would need to be tested before he became a man who could be relied on.

"Well, you have been here before, unless I have been wrongly informed," said Gozan, nodding at the bridge guards as they saluted.

"No, sir, you have not," said Mason, falling instep with his superior, as they began walking, a tangle of security behind them.

"Hard work, diligence, these are admirable qualities," said Gozan, hands clasped behind his back. "And you have an abundance of these, Mason, but do you understand what it really takes to be a good First Minister and useful to a Chancellor?"

"Information," said Mason. "Without knowledge of what our citizens think and feel how can we shape our city?"

Gozan glanced at him, digesting the words.

"We tell them what to think and feel. That is how we shape the city."

Passing the heavily barred west gate, with its single gun tower and patrolling Red Guard soldiers, the newly appointed First Minister stopped and faced his Chancellor.

"I understand we have to make the choices for them. We have to make the difficult decisions."

"You witnessed the hangings this morning, Mason. Chancellor Jorann's killers are dead and the SOT is a fractured mess. However, you will need to be my eyes and ears in this city. Never underestimate the destruction the SOT can bring. We have a delicate balance that a single man or woman could tip. You will alert me to anything suspicious. You have contacts? Spies? Yes? Good, what they know, I must know."

Mason was thoughtful for a moment.

"There is information I became aware of early this morning, sir. However, it is very delicate."

"Then I think ..."

"Chancellor Gozan, sir," called a voice. "Chancellor, sir." It was a soldier from the gate. A young man with sandy coloured hair. He saluted both men and stood rigidly to attention.