The Lies Behind the Truth

2002 short story by Mark Newbold

Two years after Episode IV – A New Hope

Ten days before polling

Glann Cipple basked in the glory of the mid-afternoon Amagadian sun and closed his eyes. Around him a phalanx of reporters, desperate for a quote or a remark that they could take back to their editors for inclusion in spreadsheets and newsletters, pushed and shoved for position. But Cipple was far too wily and experienced to make a mistake like that. He knew precisely what he wanted to say. Indeed, he’d already said it, and extraneous quotes were unnecessary and irrelevant. Besides, what more could he possibly say?

“Due to the current political climate, and strictly in the interests of democracy, I have decided to declare a fresh election for the office of governor of Amagad City. I will again put myself up for election, which shall be held in ten days time. I will remain in office until that time.”

He thanked the assembled journo’s, smartly dodged the question that flew in from the Amagadian reporter for the Chancai Express and retreated back into the side entrance of his enormous Fortress. Cool air whispered at him and his chief aide Melm as they walked briskly towards the turbolift that would whisk them up to the ninth floor and Cipples office that overlooked his city of Amagad.

Melm stared stoically ahead as ever, never giving away a trace of his true emotions, his albino-like appearance masking his thoughts. Cipple glanced at him out of the corner of his expressive eyes and smiled.

“So, my performance. How was it?”

“Exemplary.”

“You think so?”

“Would I lie?”

Glann fought the smile that came to him and stepped forward as the turbolift arrived at the ninth floor. Melm followed as they walked the short distance to Cipples office, and nodded at the guards who stood silently at the doors. Cipple walked around his large desk to the expansive window and balcony that gave him an unrivalled view of his city. In the distance the sunlight twinkled brightly off the cool waters of the Bay of Amagad, and a steady stream of freighters, pleasure yachts and cruisers arrived and departed from the many docking bays and ports littered throughout the city. The hot sun beat down a consistent heat onto the baroque buildings, interspersed as they were with newer, more modern constructions. And atop all of this, on the extinct volcano of Mount Fava was Cipple’s Fortress. He drew a satisfied breath of relief and folded his hands behind his back.

“Exxob has proved to be quite the actor, don’t you think?” asked Glann, turning slightly towards Melm. Melm shook his head slowly.

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not a drama critic.”

Cipple raised an eyebrow.

“Imagine for a moment that you are.”

Melm paused before answering.

“He certainly lives the part. If I didn’t know better I’d think he believed his position was genuine.”

“But he does know better. That’s the problem.”

Melm frowned.

“What do you mean?”

Glann smiled as he stepped away from the window and faced his lieutenant.

“I’ve been governor of this city for many years. During that time I have safeguarded this city, taken care of its well-being, assisted in its development. Amagad City isn’t merely my base of operations, it’s my home. I have a deep affection for it.” He raised his eyebrow again. “It’s one of the reasons why I so rarely leave. But even I knew that I couldn’t hold on to my city in an…unofficial capacity. So, as you well know, I officially ran for the office of governor of Amagad. And I won.”

Melm folded his arms and a faint smile crossed his face.

“It was a good day, for all of us.”

“Indeed it was. My official position has made life for us infinitely easier, and since Jan Lomona made a deal to have his name and mine automatically removed from all Imperial records last year it has become easier still. We now have a dominant, almost unassailable position in this sector.”

Melm nodded in agreement as he himself moved towards the window.

“So why call this election?”

“What my position requires is validation. A tangible display of its strength. You and I both know our enemies are aware of my ability to manipulate a situation to suit my needs. And as governor I have access to information and corridors of power that as an underworld leader I simply do not have. But I have held office for a number of terms now, and at each turn I have always had one political opponent give me a run for my money.”

“A shrewd policy. An easy victory would seem obvious.”

“Precisely. Which is why Exxob, and Ansonn before him were such useful tools in my armoury. What better political position than to have your main opponent on your payroll.”

Melm nodded as he watched a stock heavy freighter rise from the Fortress grounds and blast upwards in a spiral towards the clear skies above.

“It’s the perfect situation. So why the election?”

Glann seated himself, switched on one of his many wall monitors and closed the blinds. Melm turned to watch a display run images of Glann during his previous election campaigns.

“Exxob has been a useful asset in my time as governor. He has argued against every decision I have made, stood toe-to-toe with me in heated debate and run me close in every election. But as time has passed he has become undeniably popular with the people. While I hold the power and make the decisions, Exxob has become the darling of the media. And despite the fact that I’m the one who feeds him his lines, tells him when to attack and when to fade, that public spotlight has gone to his head.” Glann leaned back in his seat. “In short, Exxob believes he can genuinely defeat me in an election.”

“So why take this risk? If he’s as ambitious as you believe, he might do anything to gain victory. For instance, what if he forms a political coalition with the other runners in the election? Or informs the press about being in your pocket all these years?”

Glann smiled and shook his head.

“He would do neither, because that would not only discredit me but him too. If the people truly believe he’s the tough, renegade character I’ve built him up to be, then admitting he’s merely a puppet on a string would crush his popular support. What I need to do is give him his head, let him think he actually has a fighting chance.”

Melm paused, waiting for Cipple’s next line.

“And eliminate him?”

Glann opened the blinds and gazed out of the window thoughtfully from his seat.

“Not necessarily. As I said, my office requires validation. The unfortunate death of my main opponent would only bring more suspicion upon me. What I must do is entrap Exxob. He’s much more use to me alive.”

It was Melms turn to raise an eyebrow.

“And if he gains more votes than you in this election? What then?”

Glann smiled swiftly, but the grin was gone as soon as it had appeared.

“Then I step down as governor.”

Melm frowned, an action alien to a man so thrifty with his emotions.

“Can I assume you have a back up plan?”

Glann Cipple rose from his chair and nodded.

“You’d be disappointed if I didn’t.”

Eight days before polling

“Governor Cipple, Governor Cipple, a quote for the Gista Gazette!”

Glann turned; his most slimy politician smile plastered across his face and inclined his head.

“I’m looking forward to my forthcoming visit to meet the president of the Gista Council. I hear the wind is blowing east this season.”

That managed to evoke a rowdy laugh from the assembled hacks who knew the wind always blew east during summers on Gista, and the Gista journo flicked off his recorder as Glann glided by. He was flanked by a string of bodyguards and police, many his own operatives. Carlonian Feese was perched high on a rooftop, Goah Galletti tracking his movements further down the street. Laced throughout the crowd were many of Cipple’s elite Shadow Warriors, and in his immediate entourage were Melm and Malletta, his two best bodyguards. Out in the Amagad City streets he was as safe as could possibly be. Especially considering the air support that hovered above.

They were making their way towards the City Plaza, a new redevelopment that had reclaimed industrial wasteland and built it back into a somewhat fashionable part of the city. Along the street in the opposite direction Glann could just spy the mass of Exxob’s supporters and people also moving towards the Plaza. An open-air debate had been arranged for just after noon, and as the sun reached its apogee on this fine day Glann relished the opportunity to engage his `opponent’. As per Amagadian election rules, the other runners in the contest had been eliminated after an early official exit poll, leaving the prime airtime and public speaking sessions for the two genuine contenders – Cipple and Exxob.

Glann admired Exxob’s ability to find the core point in every discussion and bring the argument around to that. In other words, he aimed for the lowest common denominator, and that was something the people could understand. So while Glann made promises and agreements, Exxob would dig in and hit hard at the practicalities. It made for great discussion, and heated arguments.

And Glann Cipple loved an argument. Especially those he knew he could win.

Hidden weapons were steadily aimed as Cipple and Exxob approached each other and mounted the podium before the packed Plaza. The raised platform had a seated area adorned with various political banners and flags. Glann seated himself at his table and poured himself a glass of water, something he would never have to do for himself back at the Fortress, and waited for Exxob to take the stand. Alongside Cipple sat his three chief advisors, genuine political experts who knew just enough to believe that Cipple was a genuine politician and Exxob a legitimate adversary. Exxob cleared his throat off mike and began to address the crowd.

“I was asked by a reporter yesterday why I have become so enamoured with Amagad City in my time here, and at first I couldn’t think of a reply that didn’t sound trite and contrived. But on reflection I realised that the reason I am so taken by this city is her honesty. Her commitment to allowing beings from every corner of the sector to better themselves, make something of themselves. I came from far away from the Setnin Sector in order to make a better life for myself, a new start. I tried on Zelon. I tried on Wennicas. I even tried on Noscage for goodness sake, but nowhere embraced me and engaged me quite like Amagad. And it was only yesterday that I truly nailed down the reason why. Amagad doesn’t judge people on their past, it judges them on their potential, and that’s what makes her such a great city.

I want to be the next governor of Amagad City, and you know I will do nothing but my very best to see that Amagads best interests are served. Governor Cipple has been a good, loyal and sturdy leader through these difficult times of rebellion, but I believe that I can take us even further forward in our endeavours, make us a stronger and more vibrant place for trade, commerce, entertainment and tourism. The foundations are there for a fantastic leap forward for this city and this planet. Vote for me and I shall make sure our destiny is achieved.”

Exxob stepped down from the podium to massive applause and smiled a politician’s smile as Cipple passed him and took the stage. Glann acknowledged Exxob’s speech with a smile and a courteous nod and paused before the podium as the applause echoed away.

“As you know, I myself wasn’t born in Setnin. My home is far away from here, even I’m not precisely sure where. I came as a youngster and made Setnin my adopted home. I feel that I am as much of a Setninite as any of you born here on Amagad, or any other world in the region.

My esteemed colleague is right in almost everything he said about this world. Yes, Amagad is a place of opportunity and ambition. Anyone with even the merest hint of willingness to better themselves should be able to make that aspiration a reality here. But I believe Amagad offers more than just that. Beneath the increasingly polished society we have engineered here, hewn from the lava of Mount Fava, there beats the heart of a city that can truly alter the course of the sectors history. Amagad City has always led the planet and charted new waters for this system, but I know that Amagad can establish itself on the sector map as a prime location for trade and industry, leisure and politics, commerce and religion.

In my years as governor I believe that my administration has made a difference. It was my administration that opened up the trade lanes through neighbouring systems that allowed the increase in free trader traffic that has so dramatically improved the community surrounding our spaceport and landing zones. My administration lowered the tax levies on bulk freight transportation and refuelling fees, freed the Amagad Trade Guild from the binds of government, thus allowing a free market economy to flourish and engendered a system of commerce that has allowed this city to develop and prosper.

By accepting the challenge of my esteemed colleague I have dissolved this session of the council and, in eight days time, shall learn how much faith the citizens of Amagad truly have in me and my people. I believe it is a faith well placed. Exxob believes otherwise, and that is his right. But a vote for Cipple is a vote for integrity.” He glanced at his senior assassin Carlonian Feese who was keeping a steady rifle nozzle on the proceedings forty meters away on a rooftop. “I didn’t fail you before, and I won’t fail you again.” With a smile and a raise of his hand Cipple stepped back from the platform and waited for the journo’s inevitable rush with a patient smile.

“Governor Cipple, Governor!”

“Please people, I shall be holding a press conference back at the Fortress in forty minutes. My advisor Melm shall handle all other questions. Thank you.”

Glann slipped a sly grin at Melm and left the platform as Melm stared blankly back at his employer and prepared to field questions. A public speaker Melm was not.

“With just eight days remaining until the election, is Governor Cipple pleased with the progress of his campaign?”

Melm paused for a few moments, considered the question and then answered.

“Yes.”

“Err, and does he foresee any obstacles in his efforts to remain governor?”

Melm glanced at Feese and Galletti, who had managed to move parallel to Cipple and follow him on the walk back towards the Fortress, their guns trained on any potential problems.

“Categorically no.”

Five days before polling

“So, onto our next order of business. How goes my election?”

Yullm scanned halfway down the list of minutes on his vast itinerary and marked off the previous subject, a discussion on the state of the Noscage runs via the Quarshannel Sector. He still couldn’t quite believe that Melm, one of Glanns senior members of staff, had asked him to take the minutes at this important staff meeting, and Yullm was eager to impress. Despite being a familiar face along the corridors of the Fortress, and as such familiar to Glann and his senior staff, he was rarely seen on the ninth floor. Briefly flicking through a data pad he glanced up at Cipple and nodded.

“Quite well sir. Your ratings are up, although Exxob still has the edge in the popular vote. If I might suggest, perhaps you should go on the offensive for the remaining days, close the gap in the polls.”

Cipple furrowed his brow as he gave Yullm a cursory glance.

“When I require your political opinion I’ll pay you for it. I have another press conference scheduled for tomorrow?”

“Yes sir, right after your mid-morning meeting with Cravo the Hutts representative from Afagard. You have a ten-minute public address through the Amagad News Net, then a meeting with department heads. Then your weekly Shadow Warrior inspection, an afternoon meal with your wife,” Yullm paused as Bella raised an eyebrow at the mention of her name and Glann reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “A Holonet link conference with representatives from Cawbate, Gunsann and Hynra, a thirty minute break, your evening briefing with Galletti, Feese, Lomona and Melm.” The four looked across at Glann as he eyed them. “And for the evening, the sabacc game with Jomobol Pocock that your schedule was cleared for and finally your late evening meal. As ever, all these are subject to change.” Yullm flicked off the data pad and leaned back in his chair, taking a glass of cool water as he did so. Glann raised his eyebrows as he surveyed his staff.

“A quiet day then.” He stated flatly, but not without a brushing of dry humour. Yullm half smiled.

“Yes sir.”

“So, should we vote for you or the other guy?” asked Jan Lomona, leaning back in his seat, his ever-apparent cocky smile floating across his face. “I only ask because I voted for the other guy last time and I like to be consistent.”

“Vote as your conscience dictates,” answered Glann as he sipped from his tumbler of Vineau. “Just remember that I have every vote monitored and tagged.”

Jan couldn’t resist a wider smile from breaking across his face.

“Hey, I only did it because you refused to lower the import duty on Duarga.” He glanced at Feese and Galletti, who sat impassively to his left. “Not too much of an election promise to keep, is it?”

Galletti ignored Jan and curled his lip.

“My only question is, which one of us gets to sit on the grassy knoll?”

“Patience Goah. When the time arrives for action you’ll be the first to know.” He noted Feeses annoyed posture and corrected himself. “You’ll be among the first to know. But now is not the time for that discussion. In five days I have a vitally important public duty to perform. One that, if completed correctly, shall ensure our continuing success and prosperity. I am well aware that some of you deem my efforts to portray a benevolent public exterior a waste of time. That is your opinion, and I respect it as much as I respect anything else you have to say.” It was a barbed comment, and the intent wasn’t lost on those around the polished table. “But it is nevertheless something that I shall do, and win or lose I intend to profit from this venture.” He stood, taking his tumbler with him. “Exxob has been a tool, but eventually tools become blunt and unreliable. Exxob is a blunt tool. I need a replacement with a keen edge.” He paused at the doorway, watching members of his staff as they made their way up and down the busy corridor outside. “Nothing here is at stake but the manner in which the public perceives me. What I do as governor and what I do as leader of Cipple Industries are two separate things. Granted, my position as governor opens corridors that would otherwise be closed to me, and those in public office I deal with that are aware of my underworld dealings give me more respect than is usually awarded to a governor. In short, I can afford to lose this election.” He steadied himself against the doorway before turning back to his people, a gleam of anger igniting in his eye. “But I’ll be damned if I’ll lose this election. Exxob thinks he can defeat me in a fair fight. Glann Cipple doesn’t know the meaning of a fair fight. Cheat, connive, lie? Of course! Why have a conscience about winning if you’re not prepared to lose? Well, I’m not prepared to lose, and I don’t have a conscience. Guilt is for the guilty, and I’m guilty of nothing but self-preservation.”

The assembled group all paused as Glanns anger threatened to boil over, and he caught himself as he was about to explode. Bella gave him a steadying look and Glann breathed deeply through his nose, knocked back the remains of his Vineau and seated himself at the head of the table.

“You alright?” asked Lomona, and Cipple nodded briskly.

“Five days remain until this election. Make sure that in six days you are all still calling me governor. Now, onto our next order of business.”

Four days before polling

“You are clear on the arrangements. Your financial reparations are substantial. But that is an irrelevance. Timing is of the utmost importance.”

“I am clear. We have waited a long time for this. It’s well past time that our friend paid his dues.”

“Agreed. Your movements shall not be monitored, I will see to that. And this agreement. It goes no further.”

“My word is my bond.”

“As is mine.”

Three days before polling

“So who you voting for?”

“Not sure. Exxob makes a lot of sense, but Cipple has always done alright for us.”

“Yeah, but a change is as good as a rest.”

“True, true. Maybe I should go for the underdog. After all, that is the Setnin Way, right?”

The two men laughed easily as they finished their round of drinks in Zythlies and ordered another. Goah Galletti walked silently past them, like a black shadow gliding through a graveyard, and towards the rear of the bar. He had been hearing exchanges like that for the past few days, people undecided about their choice in politician. Some were swayed by Exxob’s excellent rhetoric, some by Cipple’s track record. But one thing that came across loud and clear from the bar side tittle-tattle was that this was an election that was far too close to call.

For his part, Goah held little interest in politics. His idea of politics came at the business end of a barrel, as did his ideas of diplomacy, negotiation and compromise. Cipples interest in maintaining the governorship were frankly beyond him, but Glann was his employer and mentor and if remaining governor was his wish, then that’s what Goah would do his best to achieve.

It was mid-afternoon and with three days remaining until polling the faces of Cipple and Exxob were everywhere, plastered across advertising hoardings and walls, skimmer stops and hover-verts. Goah shook his head as he briefly moved into the sunlight, before ducking into a shaded alleyway and the comfort of darkness it afforded him. For a man so desperate to maintain his high levels of security, and so eager to stay seconded behind the safe walls of his Fortress he was certainly putting his image and person about. Exxob’s ambitions Goah understood, and while he was eager to eliminate him, as a threat to Cipples position, he also could appreciate the mans temerity in opposing his employer. And while Glann was utterly correct in his observation that Exxob couldn’t squeal without harming his own standing with the public, Goah still thought the man was either very brave or very foolish.

Foolish if he crosses the line, thought Galletti to himself.

A cool breeze wafted through the alley, and Goah enjoyed the momentary pleasure before climbing up a rust-caked ladder and onto the rooftops. Despite his status as one of Cipples main men, and in a city that was half populated by Glanns employees, Goah still preferred to keep his distance from the people and the streets. It better suited his purposes to remain in the shadows, and like Cipples other assassin Carlonian Feese he hated crowds. I always find myself tallying up bounties in a room. Which is fine at a gangland meeting but bad at a wedding reception.

Galletti’s destination was more than a kilometre away, over the winding alleyways of what had locally become known as Lavaville, a network of tubules created by a long ago volcanic eruption. Past that he would reach Fayyette, an area that wound its way from the sea front towards the foot of Mount Fava, and then Bellis, the exclusive private estate that sat on the bay side of Mount Fava, beneath the imperious gaze of Cipples Fortress. Goah knew Amagad City better than the back of his hand; every hiding hole and safe house was known to him. And while he much preferred to hunt at night like the nocturnal creature he had become, his favourite hunting ground was Amagad, whatever the weather.

The kilometre passed quickly and Galletti reached his destination, the secluded abode of Garris Tarainnew, head of the Amagadian Chamber of Justice for over thirty years and the man in charge of the polling committee. It was Tarainnew’s responsibility to ensure that all votes were counted; all ballots remained unspoiled, and most important of all the election was run properly and above board. Garris, an elderly Amagadian with a decades-long distinguished career in public service, prided himself on his social standing, high moral fibre and fierce reputation as a devoted public servant. He also prided himself on his vast personal fortune, and working alongside Glann Cipple and his organisation only helped swell that pride with every election, every shady deal that was slipped his way.

Goah waited patiently outside the rear porch of Gariss’ house and calmly looked down the long lawn as sprinklers bathed it in water. Beyond the end of the garden, from their high vantage point halfway up Mount Fava, he could see the Bellis estate stretched out before him, then Fayette and Lavaville, back down to the sea front area from where he had just journeyed. He knew that above him, hidden by Tarainnew’s house, was Glanns Fortress. But Galletti didn’t doubt for a second that he was being observed by more than one set of eyes, both organic and electronic.

After all, Amagad was always watching.

Garris appeared and opened the porch, allowing Goah entry, all the while nervously checking outside in case anyone saw him take in this murderous and wanted criminal. Goah brushed past the old man and stood out of sight of the window. Tarainnew smiled briefly, wrung his hands together and led them through to a plush and opulent seating area. He waved his hand and the mid-afternoon holoshow crackled out of the ether and cast the room into silence. Garris turned to Goah.

“Mister Galletti, can I get you a drink? A Vineau perhaps?”

Goahs face didn’t betray even the slightest flicker of emotion, as if he hadn’t heard the old judges comments. Garris frowned slightly in confusion and seated himself.

“Governor Cipple sent me here to ensure that your previous arrangement is still in place. I assume it is.” It was a statement, not a question, and Garris was far too wily to see it as anything else. He swallowed and nodded quickly.

“Of course, of course, I assure you it is. My arrangement with the governor is more than compensation for any moral ambiguities I may have.”

Goah breathed deep through his nostrils.

“Be sure that it is. The governor is eager to secure this election win. It would be unfortunate if he failed. The ramifications would be…significant.”

Garris didn’t need to understand legalese to plumb the barely hidden depths of that statement. He nodded and reached for his half-empty glass of Brevvnian Whiskey that lay on the glass tabletop. Goah watched impassively and ran his hand through his long dark hair. He hated crooked judges more than most; their pious ability to legally and morally justify any decisions they made twisted his gut. Cipple, Lomona, Centaur, Feese, Melm and all the rest were criminals operating on the wrong side of the law, and Galletti knew that. But Tarainnew was supposed to be an honourable and just man. He traded on that perception, and made social and political gain from it. Cipple at least made the effort to play both side of the fence, bouncing one off the other. Even Lomona managed to walk the line between legal dealings and underworld operations, although barely. But Galletti was honest to himself made no such efforts. He was who he was, and those who couldn’t deal with it could go to hell.

And most who disagreed with Galletti did just that.

Tarainnew paused, waiting for Goah to say something else, impart some information relevant to the election, but Galletti had nothing else to say. Instead he walked through the hallway past a hidden camera that winked its little red eye as he moved away.

And Goah winked right back.

“Galletti is exiting Tarainnew’s premises right now sir.” said Yullm as Glann leaned over the back of his chair, watching his agents movements in the dim light of his operations room. Glann smiled, relaxing in the knowledge of there being concealed cameras in every corner of his city, watching each and every transaction and activity that occurred. True, it was an unfair advantage, but that was Cipples favourite kind. Why cheat if you can’t reap the benefits? He stood straight as Goah left the cameras field of vision and melted again into the shadows. Yullm was seated still in front of him, deep in thought.

“What‘s on your mind Yullm?”

“Sir, what if the judge discovers the cameras in his house? Surely it’s a risk having them there?”

Cipple nodded. As ever Yullm, you are full of questions.

“Perhaps, but in this profession it isn’t always about being a step ahead of the opposition. It’s about staying a step ahead. Figure that out and you’re made.”

Yullm indeed thought hard about that nugget of wisdom as Glann moved to exit the operations room.

“Sir?”

“Yes Yullm.”

“About my promotion sir.”

Glann raised an eyebrow. Persistent fellow. I like that. I might be able to use him. One day.

“You have an eight hour shift to complete and I have a busy day with Cravo the Hutt’s people. Let’s see how this election goes and we’ll discuss it then.”

It wasn’t a yes and it wasn’t a no, but Yullm beamed with pride anyway.

“Certainly sir.”

Two days before polling

`…and news just coming in to AmaNewsNet, Setnin Justice Department agents have found the body of Judge Garris Tarainnew. Tarainnew, eighty-four, led the Amagadian Chamber of Justice for over three decades and was one of the planets most senior judges, forging through reform after reform.

His body was discovered by a cleaning droid, which alerted the authorities. It’s unclear as to the cause of death, but S.J.D agents found traces of weapons discharge at the scene, leading to cries of foul play.

The judge was set to play a large part in the governor’s election, slated to take place in two days time.

And in other news, the Amagad Assassins once again reigned supreme in the sixth round of the Teflon Hardball Tournament on Yuma…`

Glann flicked the screen off in annoyance and threw the remote control onto the couch. He stood and walked to the window, deep in thought. He knew precisely who had assassinated Tarainnew, but could do nothing about it. After all, how could he possibly know? He’d have to have hidden cameras, wouldn’t he?

Cipple watched more freighters depart and arrive, lost deep in his musings. It was 08.30 hours, and even though Amagad never slept it still felt like the dawn of a new day, a new start. As the election approached Exxob had indeed gone on the offensive and Glann wondered if Yullm had been right. Perhaps now was the time to go for the throat. But Cipple knew that his current course was the right one, that despite his by-hook-or-by-crook attitude he could win this election on a straight ticket. Regardless of the fact that the man who would rig the election in his favour, Tarainnew, was now dead. Cheating was simply the back up plan.

Glann turned to answer the plaintive bleeping of his desk com and waited. It was Lawgad Greeny, his armoury officer who collected and checked in all weapons at the Fortress’ front desk. Although not unheard of, it was unusual for Greeny to call Glann direct.

“Yes Lawgad, what is it?”

“There’s thirty reporters outside wanting a statement about the judges death. What do you want me to do?”

Glann knew precisely what he wanted Lawgad to do, but that would destroy his election chances for certain.

“Tell them I’m not available right now but I shall be making an official statement later in the morning. I’m on AmaNewsNet at noon. They’ll get all the quotes they can handle then.”

“Right.” answered Greeny, terminating the connection just as a deftly concealed panel slid open in the wall to Glanns left and Melm appeared. Glann motioned to the empty seat and blew out a long breath as his right hand man sat. They looked at each other in silence for a few seconds before Melm broke the ice.

“The assassination was an inventive move.”

“Absolutely.”

“You will undoubtedly be implicated in this. Galletti, Feese, myself, any one of us could have done this. And we are all employed by you.”

“True.”

“And Exxob must have known about the camera. The assassin looked directly at it.”

“An unwise manoeuvre on the assassins part, but also true.”

“So, do you have a counter?”

“Wheels are in motion.”

“Will these wheels be turning in two days time?”

Glann paused, glancing at a screen embossed into his desktop. He raised an eyebrow.

“I cannot be certain. The underworld I can control and predict. Politics is another beast entirely.”

Melm nodded in agreement. His employer was quite correct, politics moved like the riptide that swelled just a klick away from the Amagad City coastline. Coercion and threats were regular in his world, but in an arena of film crews, news conferences and infomercials other tools were needed. And it seemed Exxob has a box full of them.

More, it appeared, than Glann.

In truth Melm was frustrated. Cipple usually took decisive actions, sent men like himself, Galletti and Feese to follow through his instructions. But in this case, physical actions were not what was required. Exxob’s instruction to have Tarainnew murdered was the first aggressive move. Melm was itching to pay back in kind.

Glann watched his number one closely, seeing beneath the calm exterior to the depths below. He knew Melm, his chief Shadow Warrior, wanted to send Cipple’s elite warriors in. Trained by the legendary fighting race of the Ferrereans, his Shadow Warriors were among the most lethal fighters in the galaxy and were commonly used by Cipple when his assassins couldn’t make their target. Their name alone struck fear into their enemies’ hearts and, seconded on the fourth floor of the Fortress as they were, entering and exiting through secret tunnels and passages, their existence remained largely a mystery.

Glann waited for Melm to speak, but he had nothing to say. Glann paused before speaking himself.

“For once I find that my hands are tied. In this situation, where fingers point accusation as easily as cameras, I have to mediate my every instruction. I believe I’ll have to wait this one out.”

Melm simply nodded, knowing Cipple was right. And as annoying as it was, one fact struck true.

Even though it was barely mid-morning, Exxob had already won the day.

Polling Day

Exxob accepted the applause with the easy air of a man ascending to power and took his step to the podium to cast his vote. He lifted the pencil, an antiquated tool used in days past for writing, and leaned forward to tick the box. In accordance with Amagadian tradition he marked the name of his chief opponent, namely Cipple, folded the flim and deposited it in the box. He smiled again, confident in the knowledge that he would prevail and stepped back to allow Glann to do the same, following the precepts of their political ancestors and showing his respect by marking his opponents name. Glanns smile, though broad and ready, betrayed the merest hint of uncertainty. With Tarainnew dead and Exxob level with him in yesterday’s exit polls he couldn’t guarantee the outcome that, with the calculation of this final polling station, would be announced within minutes. Cipple posted his vote and moved away.

It was late evening and the skies were beginning to redden and cloud over. Rain had threatened throughout the day but not arrived, although a sharp wind rattled through the City Plaza. Glann eyed the skies, as if waiting for something to break, but nothing happened and he turned his attentions back to the podium. Exxob seemed unusually pleased with himself, but Cipple was well aware of what an excellent actor the man was. Better than I gave him credit for, he thought to himself ruefully. If I’d only listened to Bella. She told me he was too smooth to be true, and as ever she was right.

Ten anxious minutes passed as Glann conferred with Melm and his wife Bella. He could still see his assassins mixed in with the crowd, and Jan Lomona leaning against a concession stand, drink in hand. Cipple watched as the freshly invested polling officer cleared her throat and moved up to the microphone stand, pulling her hair back from her face as the wind began to rise.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the announcement of the Governors Election. As per tradition, after an official exit poll our list of candidates was whittled down from an initial number of eleven to our two primary candidates, Governor Glann Cipple and Mister Exxob. In accordance with pre-stated election rules, the vote is counted over three stages. In stage one the vote was tied.”

There was an audible gasp from the vast crowd that had gathered in the City Plaza, and Glann raised an eyebrow at that. Tarainnew was a pompous old fool, but at least he could rig an election. This was making his top button feel like a vice. The polling officer continued.

“After discounting spoiled votes we commenced with our second vote. That too was tied.” She waited a second, almost for dramatic effect, and then cocked her head at the sound of engines that were rising in pitch. She turned her head to look skywards, as did over a thousand other souls. In the skies above a Dropship was descending with alarming speed, right towards one of the quayside bays that dotted the seafront of the Bay of Amagad. Exxob frowned, and Cipple looked directly at him, watching for his reaction, as the livery of the ship became clearer and clearer…

And Glann could see the blood drain out of his opponents face.

Exxob became swiftly agitated, conferring with his people and wiping the sheen of sweat that has quickly rained across his brow. The Dropship had landed and was spilling its armoured passengers onto the Amagad turf, making their way along a narrow tree-lined path towards the City Plaza. Melm watched on in confusion, scanning left and right to see where Galletti, Feese, Lomona and his Shadow Warriors were positioned. Galletti had the ship covered, as did Feese, and his Shadow Warriors were already forming a loose circle around the men and the ship. Lomona was still leaning against the concession stand, half-empty glass tilted towards his mouth. Melm couldn’t understand how this ship had made its way past the tight air traffic controls that defended Amagad City, or past the flight of Ridley fighters that regularly patrolled the skies above. He turned to Bella, whose face betrayed nothing other than curious interest and looked at his employer.

“Wheels in motion?” asked Melm. Cipple half smiled.

“Turning somewhat later than I would have liked,” he replied.

The lead armour walked across the permacrete of the Plaza, onto the stairs that led upwards and onto the podium. He nodded curtly at Glann, who acknowledged him with a nod in return and looked directly at Exxob.

“You know why I am here?”

Exxob’s proud resolve began to crumble and flake as he found his mouth go dry and his knees begin to buckle. He breathed deeply and took a stab at false bravado, the crowds’ eyes burning into him.

“I have no idea whatsoever. Do you bring news from Gunsann?”

Melm turned to look at Glann, as did Feese and Galletti who had moved closer to the confrontation. Gunsann, the world Glann had communicated with five days earlier via the Holonet, and now Melm knew why. A world unfamiliar to him, although he noticed Galletti raise an eyebrow in recognition and Lomona edge away from the stand to get a better view.

The officer stood straight in his armour and narrowed his eyes at Exxob.

“News? You want news of the homeworld?” He practically snarled his next word. “Traitor.”

The officer took a step back and looked Exxob up and down, and the shame and embarrassment flushed bright red across Exxob’s cheeks. Glann watched as his brash employee dissembled before his eyes, even the actor was faltering. Cipple stepped forward, close enough to an open microphone for the crowd to clearly hear and addressed the officer

“Sir, this is a political election. Votes are being announced. On what authority do you address the honourable gentleman?”

The officer paused, looking at Cipple as if to say you know damn well what authority, but caught the gleam in Glanns eye, remembered his strict briefing from four days previous and the financial incentive therein. He spoke clear and strong.

“On the authority of the Gunsann Elite Guard. Our clan have fought for over eight hundred years against our enemies the Coursai. Every male joins one of our regiments; every female enlists in the reserves. No one is spared. Exxob was pledged to our regiment at birth, and at the age of twenty-one was due to join.” He glared at the actor. “He did not. Exxob boarded a supply vessel bound for one of our outer lying trade moons and jumped ship.” The armour turned towards the microphone, addressing the crowd directly. “Your politician is a draft dodger. And on Gunsann, the crime is punishable by death.”

Exxob’s face had totally paled of colour, the blood draining from his cheeks. He knew the punishment for the crime; it had remained the same on Gunsann for countless centuries. And even as he turned to stare blankly at Glann as he was led away by the guards, the crowd’s howls of betrayal and disappointment ringing hollow in his ears, he knew instinctively that Cipple had arranged this.

And it was then that he realised that he was never truly in the game. He was a mere puppet, a pawn in a greater game of tactics.

And he had lost.

The furore of the crowd died to a muted murmur after the last echoes of the Dropship’s engines had rumbled away around the vast Bay of Amagad. Night had descended silently as age-old formalities were accorded their proper respect, and for the fifth time Glann Cipple was invested as Governor of Amagad City. Just like before he accepted the title with humility and grace, two performances he had learned well from his former, now fated, employee. The polling officer handed him the ceremonial staff and stepped back as Cipple accepted the applause of the crowd and the glare of Holonet cameras and news crews.

A brief press conference, thanking his election staff and employees, and Cipple was ushered into a waiting speeder for the short journey through the City Plaza and up Mount Fava back to his Fortress. The stars were shining brightly above as Glann, Bella, Melm and Feese rode back in content silence, up the roadway and through the imposing gates, through the speeder compound that ran beneath the front of the Fortress to Cipple’s private exit. Past security and into a turbolift to level nine, and the sophisticated splendour of his spartan but stunning office. Bella retired to bed, the hour carrying past midnight, and Feese had work to do night hunting, leaving Melm and Cipple alone.

“A good days work, wouldn’t you agree?” Cipple poured two slim shot glasses of whiskey and handed one to Melm, who placed his on the small table next to his seat. Glann watched him out of the corner of his eye, knowing that something was on his mind, but patient enough to let Melm spill in his own good time.

“You contacted Gunsann five days ago.”

“That’s right. I needed to know if my sleeper agent was still active and prepared. She was.”

Melm paused again, glancing around the room and then fixing Glann with a stare. The ganglord didn’t flinch.

“And that conversation instructed the Gunsann Elite Guard to arrive today.”

Glann remained locked in the staring match with Melm.

“It initiated it. My conversation with the guard commander the following day, along with the information that his clans most wanted man was running for political office in the Mid-Rim made up his mind.” Glann smiled broke the stare for a wicked grin. “That and breaking the Gunsann weapons embargo and selling them three thousand weapons.”

Always with the angle, thought Melm as he changed tack.

“I spoke to the polling officer before we left City Plaza. She told me the result of the election.”

“But Melm, you know the result. I won.”

Melm raised an eyebrow.

“The real result. Before your wheels began turning.”

Glann laughed and drank from his glass.

“Began turning? You should know by now that they never stop turning. I can’t afford them to.”

Melm glanced out of the window, unsure of how to inform his employer of the cold truth.

“Glann, Exxob won the election. He polled sixty two percent.”

Glanns smile melted like dew as he gripped the glass tightly. His bravado dipped as the realisation hit home. With Garris Tarainnew assassinated, his hold on the polling had been taken away. He still was able to manoeuvre the exit polls, but they were more for the benefit of the media than anything else. No, this had almost been a disaster and he knew it. If the Gunsann Elite Guard had not arrived in time, or had somehow been intercepted then he would have been experiencing a very different night.

“There’s a lie behind every truth. And a truth behind every lie. This is both.” Glann thought for a moment about his own words. “Who else knows about this?”

“Us and the polling officer.” Melm paused. “Why? We’ve used her before, she’s trustworthy. Do you think she’d reveal that?”

Glann half shook his head as he finished the glass and watched a speeder race away from the Fortress grounds, running on minimum lights, into the depths of the Bellis estate.

“Not after Feese has finished with her.”

Melm lifted his glass slowly and brought it to his lips. Alcohol something he rarely partook of or enjoyed. But this was a special occasion.

Wasn’t it?

“Once again you’ve prevailed.” Melm raised his glass in salute. “To the victor.”

Glann Cipple turned and surveyed the midnight vista of Amagad City, laid out before him like a glittering pearl, ripe for plucking.

He made ready to give a reply but realised that he had nothing to say. Polling day was over.

The people of Amagad City had already spoken.

The Lies Behind the Truth

2002 short story by Mark Newbold

Two years after Episode IV – A New Hope

Histories – The story of how Glann Cipple maintained his public image of being the legitimate Governor of Amagad as well as continuing his many underworld dealings. Showing many of his main backroom staff, this also highlights various other characters, like Yullm, the second level information gatherer who at this stage in his career for Glann was an eager, idea-driven member of staff who was sitting in on his very first senior staff meeting taking notes. Also it explains how Glann managed to rig the previous elections to his liking, and shows how deep his hooks dug into the fabric of Amagadian society.

Cast of Characters

Glann Cipple

Melm

Exxob

Goah Galletti

Garris Tarainnew

Carlonian Feese

Jan Lomona

Yullm

Bella Cipple

Lawgad Greeny

Ansonn

Zuude Eddren