Through Dogma, Salvation

[Khemia]

Marjhan was a young woman, especially given her position in office. She was in her mid-30's, but she had been hand picked and groomed since she was 18 for the position she held now, a bit more than a decade after the man who could be called her father chose her for this office. Though in truth her father had died many years back, the man that sat in her office now was the closest the ever knew to a father. He had raised her since she was seven, withdrawing her from mandatory schooling and breaking her will, crushing resistance, drilling into her mind the dogma of the Party. He sat on the couch with eyes boring holes through the facade of conviction she held over her fragile face, he seemed to be at ease but Marjhan knew that Bahn was not sitting in his chair lightly. He held in his hand a document, and Marjhan's curiosity was piqued despite the ominous sense of dread that fell upon her in Bahn's presence.

Bahn was the head of the Unity Party, by right if not by title. The Party bended to the wishes of Bahn Li. His bitter eyes, ravaged by a scar that cut horizontally across his face, hid his intelligence behind a mask of anger.

A cruel, cold intelligence only a dictator at heart could inspire. Bahn lifted his hand up and signaled Marjhan to come closer, and the Madame President obeyed, rising from her chair and circumventing her desk to settle herself in the couch across from Bahn.

"Yes, Bahn?" she asked using his first name. He handed her a document with three numbers, zero-zero-zero. Option Zero. She smiled weakly and looked at Bahn, knowing the document well. It was more than an attempt to keep her in her office longer, it was an expression of her people's love for her. But Bahn looked at the document, it spoke to him something else. The girl that you have kept under your thumb for years may soon escape your grip.

"The people adore you, you know," Bahn spoke grimly, tapping the edge of the paper Marjhan held in her hands before relaxing back into the plum colored fabric of the couches.

"Maybe," her smile faded, though the fleeting happiness that persisted in her heart continued. "They love the freedoms I give them."

"The Party gives them."

She nodded to his stern correction. "The Party," she repeated, sadness echoing in her voice.

"Do you know what problem this document presents?" Bahn petitioned her with the conviction of an inquisitor. She looked to him but did not answer. "It represents a critical lack of trust between the people and the Party. If they do not trust the Party's future presidential candidates, then how can they trust the Party. If the people can't trust the Party, then how can we represent them?" He spoke of the 'elite' members of the party, those members that held her in contempt.

She did not know how to respond, and Bahn grew impatient. He rose to his feet and paced around the small gap between the couches and the desk. "But this was one referendum, we can't seriously give it credibility as a serious petition. It was nothing more than an affirmation of the people's loyalty to me."

"Exactly. Their loyalty to you. And this was not one referendum," he paused. "There have been eight others which the government has taken out of circulation, and ten others which we've managed to suppress in the proposal stage. The National Assembly itself is split on the issue."

She paused, feeling suddenly threatened. If she was a threat to the Party, she would be eliminated. She knew she had failed to gauge the situation, and know the thin ice was cracking beneath her feet.

"The Party cannot risk to lose it's grip on your office, if we do then we risk a rogue element. A factor which the Party cannot control." Bahn stopped pacing and moved suddenly to the door, preparing to leave. "If you can not stop this growing cult of personality, then the Party will find a new President."

An awkward silence permeated the room while Marjhan considered the job she had held since she was 25. She thought about her inauguration speech, her address to the National Assembly. The entire nation was hesitant to have a youthful leader. She remembered the palpable sense of apprehension those few people that had turned out to her speech on her first proposal to the Assembly.

Before Marjhan, Citizen Councils would make recommendations to the National Assembly, which was elected separately from regions; the candidates were hardly known by those that they represented. Marjhan had eliminated this professional bureaucracy when she reformed the law with an executive order. That executive order, her very first, disbanded the National Assembly and called for new elections which would draw representatives directly from the Citizen Councils. Massively popular, rallies were held praising the Madame President, and the Presidium faced revolt should it revoke her decision. The Party was changed overnight, the old 'elite' of the Party was replaced by fresh ideas that were actually representative of the people.

She had done that seven days into her term, immediately creating a visible personality around her besides her stunning looks; in essence the people worshiped her.

She looked back to the door that Bahn had left through, she needed to know what he was planning. What threat did he pose to her office.

 

[Khemia]

She stepped out of the car and made her way into the Presidential Palace, armed guards dressed in black uniforms, pistols and bulletproof vests. They were almost perfectly hidden in the shadow of the night, save for their light skin and the white shirts they wore under their jackets.

One of them moved to open the door for Marjhan, smiling at her as she walked past into a lobby that seemed relatively quiet by her standards, two aides discussing amongst themselves before moving towards her. She sighed, looking at the aides with her blue eyes.

"Madame President," they smiled with courtesy before bombarding her with their reports. She rolled her eyes, by this hour she was tired and annoyed, and her aides could sense the tension. They proceeded with caution, debriefing her of the days happenings and handing her a small folder of papers that required her approval and set forward Mays schedule.

Sinhai was a small country, but it still had enough matters to read over that forced her to stay up at night. She climbed the stairs and went to her private bedroom, closing the door behind her and tossing the folder to the bed. The papers fluttered out, but she didn't care, moving to the large master bathroom and unbuttoning her blouse. She leaned against the bathroom counter, looking at herself in the mirror, unsatisfied. She rustled her hair with her fingers and stood taller, admiring herself for a moment before frowning.

She was a politician, her work was her life. She could dream about finding a husband, raising a family, but her duty was to her State. She took off her shirt and pants, grabbed the nozzle on the bathtub and started to run the hot water.

She needed a relaxing bath to calm her down after Bahn's visit, but her mind still raced over the brief conversation and the foreboding threat. What were Bahn and the 'elite' planning. How would they get rid of her?

She took off her bra and panties and slipped into the water, the steam rising off telling her hot, hot! but the relaxing ease of her muscles told her more, more. She smiled and sank into the water, but almost as if beckoned there was a quick rap on the bathroom door.

"Madame President!" someone shouted. She grumbled, looking around for a towel, but before she could grab it the door was kicked in, and one of her bodyguards walked into the bathroom and glanced at her in the bathtub. He reached under his jacket and into his holster, reaching for a pistol, before looking back out the door.

A number of rounds sounded off in progression, the shells thumping into the man in her doorway, exiting his neck and spraying blood across a mirror that shattered under the force of the gunfire. Marjhan rose from the bathtub and hurled herself towards the counter, more gunfire echoed through her bedroom.

Marjhan clutched her shirt around her, her wet skin making the soft fabric cling to her body. A guard hesitantly entered the room with his pistol held firm and extended a hand to her. "Madame President, we must leave now. There is a revolt in the Guard," the man turned away from her as she dressed. "Your life is in danger."

Marjhan threw her clothes on, hardly looking at the guards face as he briefly attempted to take a glance at her. He escorted her out of the room, and she struggled not to count the dead bodies. Three... four... she entered the hallway and saw her aides bodies lying on the stairs. Six.

She hurried down the stairs behind the guard, the palace was deathly quiet. Something struck her as terribly wrong, and she moved even closer to the guard. "This way, to the back of the Palace," he remarked, and she followed, winding through the palace halls. There was no noise, no screaming bystanders, no guards with guns firing at her. The eeriness forced the hair on her spine to creep up. The guard took her into a small saferoom reserved for minor political staff and looked at her closely.

"Madame President," the Guard spoke to her, his pistol still in hand. As if the palace had been spurred to life, she could hear screaming and shouting in the hallway.

"Find the President! they shouted.

"Madame President," he insisted, pushing the barrel into her chest and pressing her against the wall. "Forgive me, Madame President, I do this for the Party."

Almost as if beckoned by angels Guards were at her door, kicking it with their full force. The guard before her put the gun to her face, his finger starting to push the trigger. She flinched, ducking down and pushing him to the door. He pulled the trigger too late, releasing a round into the ceiling of the room, and she launched her bare foot into his crotch. He deflected it with his knee and leveled the pistol again, but the President ducked across the room. Gunrounds fired through the handle, breaking the deadbolt, and the boots of several guards toppled the renegade. The door fell on him, and the Guards poured into the room to defend the President. The rogue coughed and attempted to raise himself, but automatic gunfire ripped through his body as eight guards unloaded their clips into him.

Marjhan was confused, staring at the former Guard who's blood now traced across the floor from the doorway. Those around her, could she trust them. Were they loyal? Was she safe?

 

[Khemia]

The guards lifted her from the floor, huddling around her as they escorted her to her room. Flashing lights outside signaled the arrival of the special police battalion assigned to the Palace. They carried her up the stairs and towards a secondary bedroom reserved for employees and guests.

She was hit with an acute sense of agoraphobia as soon as she hit the mattress, the utter dread of the walls being too far away, the door just out of reach, the complete lack of cover. She crawled onto the bed and slipped herself under the covers, creating a veritable fortress of pillows around her body and closing her eyes.

A woman entered the room shortly after the Guards left, startled the President, but she raised a finger to her lips and quieted the President. "It's alright, Madame President," the finely dressed woman addressed her superior. "I'm not with the Guard, I'm with the Police, I heard about the incident and my captain believes it's necessary to make sure it's safe for you."

Marjhan nodded and looked around the room. The officer locked the door and moved to the windows to close the blinds. "What is your name..." Marjhan looked to see the officers rank on her chest, noticing the กุล on her collar, "Line Officer?"

"Line Officer Jintana Umarin," the policewoman smiled at the President. "And I've been a fan of your reforms for a while now, Khun Visariya. I hope you continue."

"Not everyone seems to feel the same way you do, Officer Umarin."

"Please, call me 'Dow'," she smiled.

"Ah, pretty," Marjhan smiled. "You may simply call me Marjhan, I've never been a fan of my chuu len," she explained.

Jintana nodded with a smile and pulled a chair towards the bedside, setting her pistol on the bedside. "Khuan Marjhan," Jintana began.

"No, no, just Marjhan. You can't be responsible for protecting my life and still call me Khun, I insist."

Dow nodded, "Of course. Anyways, I wanted to ask you what inspired you to do what you're doing. The democracy reforms, I mean."

"You know that our country is essentially a fascist state, with hierarchical 'classes' of farang, phasohk, and raat. Raat are the citizens, those people that proved their worth to the state through service, and so the state benefits them. But I never felt benefits were enough, I always thought that those that served the state should have a voice in the state," Marjhan explained.

"Citizen councils," Dow finished the thought.

"Yes, mostly through that. Referendums were also a big policy I wanted to push through, and some day I plan to see that my position in office is directly elected by the raat, instead of the Party."

Dow leaned back in her chair as if struck by absurdity. She waited a moment, then let out a laugh, "You're crazy!"

Marjhan smiled and shook her head, "Yes, I know."

"Do you seriously believe the Party will let that happen?" Dow still joked, but Marjhan looked at the door with a stern face.

"Not anymore, I don't."

 

[Khemia]

Emergency debriefing, that's what Bahn was calling this. He paced across her office as was his typical fashion, and members of the Presidium sat in the couches before her desk; she was confined to her desk flanked by Line Officer Umarin and another officer. The Presidential Guard was under thorough investigation by the Party, but as Marjhan looked to the man she considered a father, she was sure that the Party would find nothing wrong with the Guard.

They were following Party orders.

She sighed and looked to Dow, who smiled back and nodded. She knew what Marjhan was thinking.

"Kuhn Visariya, you will need to make a speech tomorrow that gets rid of these rumors of an attack on you," Bahn commanded.

"Rumors?" Marjhan responded with abject cynicism. "When unfounded rumors are spread, I'll be sure to dismiss them."

"Marjhan. The Party determines what are rumors. There was no attempt on your life."

Marjhan grunted, and one of the ministers of the Presidium, Petchthai Teppitak, nodded to Bahn before speaking. "Madame President, do you know what kind of panic will spread if people believe there are traitors that would make an attempt on your life? Who would they blame?" Marjhan stared at the minister with hateful eyes, but he continued. "They'll scapegoat anyone they feel is disloyal. We'll have a witch-hunt on our hands."

"I have more faith in our people than you do, it seems Kuhn Teppitak."

Bahn looked at her with scorn, "You will do this."

She nodded, "I will do this. I only wish the Party was expressing it's own concern for my safety."

Bahn moved towards her desk and leaned against it, snarling at her with his next words, "We are very concerned about your health, Marjhan. I ensure you, very concerned."

With that the Party members left the office and Marjhan sighed, leaning against her desk. Dow kneeled beside her to comfort her, "Marjhan, is there anything I can do?"

Marjhan paused for a moment. "Yes. Keep this under close wraps, let no one know," she looked at the other policeman, who nodded and stepped out of earshot. "Keep an eye on Bahn. He wants to replace me, find out who he intends to be my successor."

"What do you want me to do when I find out?" Dow asked.

"Nothing, just report to me. They aren't intending to have me step down, they want to assassinate me. Get the people you believe are the most trust-worthy, and I'm not talking friends, I'm talking hoenst people; even if you hate them. I need protection I can trust."

Dow nodded her head and waved to the other officer. "Phung," she called to her officer, who was apparently a good friend as well as she called him by his chuu len, "keep a close eye on the Madame President. Whoever committed yesterdays attack is still on the loose. Trust no one unless I, or the President, says that they can be trusted."

 

[Khemia]

Marjhan walked up to the podium amid the brilliant flashes of dozens of camera's belonging to various domestic and international news agencies, including among them AP International. She breathed a deep breath, she was stepping onto the world stage with this one. She read the notecards in her hand, wondering whether or not she had the constitution to lie to the international community or worse the people that she could scarcely claim to represent. She knew their faces without seeing them, looking to the television screens with ill-kept outrage as she spoke the lies.

She read over the first notecard, it was as planned. There was no attempt on my life. She read over the second. She couldn't do this, she couldn't tell the people that she was stepping down. She knew to not do so would be to sign a death warrant on her head, but she could not let her people down. If I step down now, the Party will undo everything I have done. The 'elite' still control the Intertel, the State's secret police; they could systematically eliminate the new generation of Assemblyman and revert the country into a pure totalitarian state. I'm playing with fire, and if I fail...

She sighed and tossed the cards into the podium. "On Sunday night a member of the Presidential Guard made an attempt on my life."

A man in the crowd scrambled for the door, men with earpieces in the crowd scrambled through the room and reporters rumbled with surprise.

"The Guard is loyal to the Party, but this is not a socialist conspiracy! This is treason of the highest form!" she could see the mistake in her choice already. The country would turn on itself in a witchhunt. She had to focus the people, she had to use her countries love for her She had to make herself the most valuable person this country had ever seen. "An enemy of Sinhai, an enemy of our democracy, is at the heart of this plot! We must make it our common goal to stand fast and true to democratic reform, but never forget what democracy is! Do not cast out your neighbors as traitors, they are not to blame! Trust in me, your President. I will not fail you."

She saw men dressed in black bursting through the doors and her speech was over, Sri Raman Police Officers surging over her and escorting her out of the building. The Police were the only ones she could trust, the SDF, the Guard, Intertel, they were tools of the Party, of the 'elite'. The Police were citizens though, low members in the Party. People the largely believed in her.

They led her in the back of police 'Chakram', an armoured high-performance SUV. The lights lit up and the wheels chirped as the hulk of a vehicle sped off, accompanied by a pair of squad cars who's tops were on fire with the blue, red, and yellow of the Sinhai Police. Black jeeps were quick to catch pursuit, and a battle was fought between the three police vehicles and four jeeps of the Guard. Whoever the police driver was, he had good training but no consideration for his passengers constitution, and Marjhan couldn't help but feel herself get sick. Her head knocked into the padded wall, giving her whiplash, and but at least her stomach settled down.

By the time the police vehicles had been chased onto one of the six main highways of Sri Rama, Route 18, two of the squad cars had managed to distract two of the jeeps, but there were still two jeeps weaving through traffic in pursuit of Marjhan and her men in blue. She looked back, watching the jeeps swerve through traffic, when a large rig jacknifed in front of a jeep, the smaller vehicle standing no chance as it slammed into the large cargo container, sending it's occupants flying through the window and splattering against the bottom of the container like gnats on a flyswatter. The lone jeep was know competing with not only the police it was in pursuit, but every enraged citizen on the road that would dare call themselves loyal to the President.

Random people armed with semi-automatic rifles, pistols, and shotguns rolled down their windows and started firing on the traitorous Presidential Guards, who were able to do nothing but pull to a should and care for their wounded. Citizens stopped their cars and put them into reverse to finish their work, but Marjhan's Chakram moved too quickly, and she was not really interested in watching murder.

 

[Khemia]

Line Officer Umarin turned the wheel, guiding the patrol car through an eerily empty night-time street lit by dim lamps and the bright flashes of blue and red of the barricade she approached. She rolled down her window as she glided up, an officer greeting her as he took of his hat and bent down to look through the window.

"Where are you headed, miss?" he asked.

"Unity Complex," she responded.

"UC eh? Doubt they're going to be very welcoming."

"They're not going to fire to fire on a police officer unprovoked with farang media watching," she still did not smile, knowing that the situation was less than welcoming.

"What for?"

"Madame President's directive, she wants to know who's being groomed to replace her. She believes that the Party is going to call for emergency elections to discredit her."

"Alright. Come back in one piece, we need all the officers here we can get. SDF's moving in," he nodded to the other side of the bridge, the mainland. She frowned; the SDF still had not commented on the actions. No one really knew if they had secretly pledged their loyalty to the Unity Party, if they were neutral, or if they were going to attempt a coup.

In front of her the barricade was lifted, a combat dozer moved out to provide her with a path, the driver waving at her as she passed. The city of Sri Rama was awkwardly quiet, save for the few random night owls and patrol cars still running about their duties policing the fine people of the city. Someone had to keep crime from happening, and until martial law was declared that was still the job of the Police.

As she drove past Ruam Raksa she noticed the dreadful shape of an armoured personnel carrier fast approaching. A soldiers head was popped out of the top hatch, but his hands were not on the triggers of the pintle gun. He waved at her as she passed, she could see a smile on his face. He wasn't her enemy, for now. She waved back and breathed a sigh of relief, rolling past several more street lights until the moved towards the Mall, the long avenue that ran straight towards the UC. The Complex was lit up with lights, a bright shining star that shone in the heart of the Union. It was surrounded with SDF vehicles and soldiers who milled about, and several dozen protesters with picket signs shouting about their jobs that they could not go to. Her car was a prime target for their vented frustration, but some soldiers beat back the crowd and waved her through.

She parked the car in an inconspicuous spot and nodded to an SDF trooper that walked up to her. "I'll watch your vehicle. Never know the kind of shit that's going to happen nowadays, eh? Leave your weapon in the car though, just a tip," he smiled as he gave her the professional courtesy afforded between two peacekeeping workers.

She nodded and opened the door again, putting her sidearm under the driver side chair. She nodded to him and locked the door before moving towards the front entrance, where several other SDF troopers nodded at her as she enterred. An officer halted her as she took off the various metal items on herself to walk through a detector. "Stop. Line Officer, what's your business here? I'm sure you understand that the Party isn't in the mood to see you?"

"Presidential business," she replied, effectively preventing him from asking any more questions. Presidential business still had the power to put SDF in their place, and she felt a little taller because of it. He nodded and she moved through the detector. There was no beep, but she was still wanded by a trooper who waved her through to her things.

She pinned back on her badge, medals, and belt and moved towards the elevators where waited several bureaucrats who shifted aside as she stepped next to them and pressed the button. She couldn't help but smile. When the bell finally rang and the door opened, she was the only one to enter. She pushed the button for the sixth floor; Offices.

The hallways of the sixth floor were bare and white, unremarkable and spartan in their simplicity, and yet the lighting was enough to make one feel as though they were walking through the halls of heaven. She arrived at Administrator Keshat's office, she knew little of the man but she had a feeling in her gut that this is where she wanted to be. She lifted her hand to knock on the door when she heard a number of raised voices inside arguing. She paused and listened.

"This needs to stop now."

"We have several options to pick from..."

"Only two of them work, and with the police doing what they're doing..."

"Bahn, the time for change is coming. This democracy is going to destroy the nation. It's nothing but socialism under a different name!"

"I agree! Bahn, I'm almost inclined to believe you may have even sponsored socialist tendencies in that girl."

"Nonsense. I am more loyal to this country than any of you ingrates, and if you dispute that then I'll make sure you don't see the sunrise."

An awkward silence followed before the voices, whose number was still unknown to Dow, continued their discussion.

"Is your other pupil ready?"

"I am ready."

Dow stepped back for a moment in surprise.

"Datharin, we'll be calling a press conference tomorrow calling for a new Presidency. We'll need you to denounce Visariya, and discuss the policies we've prepared for you. With our economy in danger, I'm sure the people will be eager to listen."

"Yes, their jobs and families are in danger. Maybe this incident with Visariya was not entirely unfortunate."

"That young, wreckless girl is not done yet," an elder sounding man cautioned. He was nearing the door. Dow stepped back, cracked the heels of her boot together and stood at attention as the door opened before her, the thrill and excitement of being caught eavesdropping on an extremely confidential conversation was nothing compared to the satisfaction she received knowing they could do nothing about it. The one known as Bahn glared at her as he was the first to exit, she recognized his face from somewhere, but she wasn't quite sure where.

An awkward aura permeated the air so thickly that one could cut through it with their finger. It was as sticky as a humid summer day, yet Dow did not flinch. Bahn approached her and stared right into her eyes before grabbing her badge and ripping it off of her uniform. "Line Officer Umarin," he spoke. "We won't be seeing you tomorrow."

She grabbed the badge back from him, asserting her position in relation to him. "No, you won't, traitor." She about-faced quickly and headed off down the hall, preferring the stairs to further confrontation with the numerous bureaucrats who she knew were as scared as she was.

 

[Khemia]

Marjhan was tired, her weary eyes felt as if a ton of lead was carried upon them. She hadn't slept in two days with shock of her prior assassination creating a paranoid state of mind that kept her awake until she was too tired to think. The police had effectively turned the island into their own separate country, but Marjhan had known she couldn't run the island by herself. Instead she had decided to experiment with her democracy, allowing the Citizen Councils of their abstract little republic to play with the concept like a political science university student.

It was bumpy but functional, moreso than allowing the police to run the show. There was amazing cooperation and optimism, despite martial law being declared on the mainland and imports rarer and rarer every day. With the commerce district disfunctioning, only banking seemed to remain stable, which was important as the banks represented a significant international investment.

She laid back on the chair in her room, it was uncomfortable and bit into her neck when she rested, but she found the pain a relaxing reminder that she was not dreaming. Someone opened the door without knocking, but she didn't have the time or patience to cast a glare at the little man that walked in with a corded phone in hand.

"Madame President," he aide began, "someone wants to speak with you."

"Who is it?" she asked.

"She won't tell me, Madame, but she sounds military."

She rose from her chair slowly, knowing that the moment had finally arrived. She raised her hand and gestured the aide to give her the phone, putting the receiver to her ear and exhaling softly.

"Visariya," the voice on the line began without waiting for her to speak, as though the woman were watching her actions. "I'm sure you've heard the news."

"What news?"

"The Party has decided to replace you, their new President has called you a traitor and has vowed to fix the problems you have created. We're going to need that island back."

Marjhan sighed, she hadn't quite pictured the conversation going this way. "Ahremen," the President protested her fate, "surely you remember what I told you."

"And surely you remember what I told you yesterday. You have one week - six days now - to give the SDF a reason to reconsider. Either way, that island will be ours."

"Just wait, Overlord. You'll see the new face of the Unity Party soon," Marjhan continued.

"For your sake, I better see it within 6 days."

 

[Khemia]

Marjhan flipped through pages of stories of soldiers in the Great War, reading excerpts from their journals, a collection of their thoughts. They had fought hard, regardless of their nationality; the war was brutal, and many of them had come to the same realization that she had.

Her country had not experienced the Great War, but it too had suffered it's own fair share of conflict. It too was corrupted by an old 'elite' which did not want to give power to those that worked to make the nation what it was. The book's title, too, lent to her idea.

Crucible. A crucible smelted metal, turning the immovable matter into one that could be molded, and once firm, set into a beautiful, rigid, and structured design. And such the Great War was a crucible for the nations that fought it, creating ideas that through trial by fire a perfect society would be created. Conflict created a well-founded, rigid, structured body which; once hardened, was immovable to by any human hands. She set down the book on the desk in her room.

The Promethean Crucible. This book impacted her in a profound way, she was able to draw connections between all the pieces. The National Assembly, those good men and women directly elected by their peers for their worth, value, and honesty; those were the ones who should rule the country. The 'elite', those impurities in the metal of society that claimed, by right, their positions of power. Like leeches they coveted their positions, hampering the progress of the country for their own personal benefit. Bureaucrats, they didn't deserve anything they possessed.

She sighed and stood up as Line Officer Umarin entered the building. "Kuhn Visariya," she politely acknowledged the President, "a man named Bahn is at the spearhead of this attempt to create a new Presidency. Do you know who he is?"

"Bahn," she sighed, "is the man who decides where Party members will be placed. He is also the de facto head of Intertel. If he saw you, you can't return to the mainland or you will be killed."

Dow was visibly stirred but continued, "Then, the rest of what I have to tell you makes more sense. The government has begun secretly arresting party members, namely Assemblymen, under suspicion of supporting treason. Supporting you, Madame President."

"How are they doing such things?" she was shaken.

"With the disbanding of the National Assembly, some members protested. It appears that a secret agency, likely Intertel, has been kidnapping those that protested. Today, two public assemblies were dispersed under the same suspicions of treason... Madame President..."

Marjhan looked to the book on her desk then back to her friend, "Hm?"

"The Party is reversing the democratic reforms the hard way, and using the SDF to force it down the people's throats. They're destroying all the civil reforms accomplished within the past three decades practically overnight," Dow finished.

"I was hoping they would do this," Marjhan smiled. She picked up the book she had just finished reading and handed it to Dow. "Find this book at the library and read it, give a copy to your superiors. This is something they need to see."

 

[Khemia]

Ahremen sighed. The weekend was fast approaching, and she had promised herself to make a decision. Neither side was worth shit to her, all she cared about were killing the communists in the North, and keeping her people alive. Politics were not what she joined the military for.

She grabbed the phone and decided to make another phone call, lifting the big, red plastic receiver to her ear and punching a few numbers.

"Yes, this is OL Arkhan. Get me Visariya, now," she demanded of whatever pitiful wretch it was that had answered the phone on the other side. Whoever had answered had obviously not given her the proper response. "Don't give me that bullshit, boy. This is the number I was given to contact her. You bullshit me again and I cut your dick off and feed it to my dogs."

The man on the other end fumbled around and shortly after a soft, feminine voice answered the phone. "Ah, Visariya," she added no title when she referred to the President. "Did you get my memo?"

The President answered an affirmative. Ahremen decided to continue. "Good. What do you think?"

Some mumbling on the receiver replied to her, and she traced her finger along the armrest of her chair. "That's fucking lovely, President. I don't care about your alternatives. You either accept my proposal, or I come onto your island tomorrow guns blazing. I don't feel like waiting until Sunday anymore. My men are ready to go now, and I'm tired of this shit. You know the price of gas has more than doubled this week? Do you know what that means for my tanks? It's more expensive to drive them than it is to fucking build them!" she yelled into the phone. "Give me a god damned answer by tonight, or bombs will be falling." She hung the phone up and sat back in her chair, letting her poorly controlled temper fluctuate within her head as she shifted between visualizing strangling the President and being glorified as a hero.

 

[Khemia]

"Madame President," Line Officer Dow was out of breath as she spoke to Marjhan. "The SDF is closing on us rapidly, we need to get you to a safe location."

Marjhan frowned at the phone she held in her hand, the line was dead; not even the familiar incessant beeping of an inactive line was there to annoy her. It wouldn't be long until the power was cut, the plan was being executed perfectly. Only, she didn't know what the plan was.

"Alright, let's go," she said as she rose from her chair and hurried down the stairs while police officers barricaded the front door. "We need to get a vehicle and head to the harbor. There should be a boat waiting for us there..."

"Where will we go?" Dow asked.

Marjhan looked at her friend as they entered the car and buckled their belts, but she gave no response. "Let's go, quickly. Head straight down Mission St., it should be the fastest route that hasn't been hit by the enemy yet."

Dow nodded and put her foot on the pedal, sending the car flying. The window was cracked, and behind the rustling wind the sound of automatic weapons fire and clouds of smoke could be seen over the city skyline. The car burned rubber as it cut the corner of Mission Street, the lights on the roof weren't lit but those few civilians fleeing their homes to head to non-combat zones were well aware that the vehicle was moving at an emergency speed. The engine roared in defiance as the female driver pushed the engine to it's limit, the high performance car putting out all the horsepower it could.

But it wasn't enough. Armoured Personnel Carriers slammed out of street before the speeding police vehicle which couldn't turn in time, the screaming tired resisted, but the weight of the car couldn't stop it from flipping on its side. Sparks shattered through the crack in the window, but the iron cage kept any real harm from coming to the President. A helicopter flew overhead, it's beady little camera watching the vehicle intently.

Dozens of soldiers surrounded the car, automatic rifles held firm. Marjhan shouted at Dow, who had drawn her own weapon and was struggling to exit the vehicle. Several gunshots sounded and Dow took a hit, falling out of the window with a sickening crack. Marjhan started to scream and scrambled out of the vehicle, raising her hands as the soldiers approached her rapidly.

Then she heard the all to familiar klak of gunfire as a slug slammed into her gut, sending her flying to the cement. The world around her went black.

 

[Khemia]

Arkhan grumbled as she set down the phone, yet again. For the fifteenth damned time. She felt like throwing the stupid plastic contraption at some grunts head. The young lieutenant sitting at his desk unaware seemed a fine target. His head almost glistened in the fluorescent lights as if it begged for her to vent her frustration violently.

She found the will not to only when a man walked into her office without knocking. That was even more frustrating. The young lieutenant snapped to his feet and attempted to tell the man he wasn't allowed, but Ahremen knew this man wasn't going to listen.

Bahn stepped in front of Arkhan, and the two titans of Sinhai met each other eye to eye. Intertel and the SDF, they were not chums. They were not bed buddies. She didn't bother acknowledging his presence but instead grabbed a cigar and clipped off the end so she could light it.

"Kuhn Arkhan, I do not know what game you're playing at, but you need to learn your place," Bahn stated simply.

"Don't call me kuhn, bitch. If you speak to me, refer to me by my title, that is your first warning."

Bahn sighed, but Arkhan blew smoke in his face and glared at him through her aged, wrinkled Asian eyes. He coughed and grew frustrated. "Overlord," he stressed the title, and Arkhan looked at him with a bitter, toothy smile. "We need the SDF's cooperation in Sri Rama so that we can ensure the country recovers from this lapse in good judgement."

"Really!?" she asked sarcastically. "And I need a poodle to piss on your pants. Intertel has no authority to speak to me. Intertel has no jurisdiction in this office. You go around my back, you make arrests in an area under martial law. You insult me, and then you tell the media to go ahead with this nonsense? You're blaming me for?"

"For preventing the Party from restoring Sinese glory!"

"I wasn't aware we had lost it."

"Of course you weren't, you pompous ass," he was flustered and pushed the papers off her desk. She blew more smoke in his face. "If you do not follow orders, then the Party will remove you. Then we'll see what happens."

Ahremen glared at the man, but he grabbed her cigar and threw it in the trash can. "You make me sick, Overlord. How women like you get power is a joke to me."

He walked out of the office and slammed the door behind him, but Arkhan looked to the cigar in the trash can, the embers burning through papers as they fought to bury themselves in shame. Arkhan leaned back in her chair and propped her boots on the table, looking up to the fluorescent lights. And to think she had begun to think her job was boring.

 

[Khemia]

Eighteen hours had passed since he had demanded the stubborn old woman who headed the military cooperate with his orders. His desk, however, was still empty. No reports, no dossiers, no paper telling him what he wanted to hear: Marjhan Visariya was dead. Instead, he read one file over, and over, and over again. It was unnerving. It was the first Intertel report on casualties suffered on Sri Rama Island.

The number was under one hundred. One hundred casualties, no deaths. For a fortified island captured by a military offensive, either this report was citing a miracle, or something was amiss.

The length of the desk which he sat at extended down a long, thing meeting room. A dozen other officials and ranked members of Intertel all sat there quietly with folders under their clasped palms, patiently waiting to tell Bahn what he already knew. Something was going terrible wrong.

Outside the doors of the closed, secure meeting, the Intertel Offices seemed almost serenely quiet. Several SDF vehicles pulled up to the outskirts; military troopers armed with rifles moved to push through the courtyard and surge through the entrance. Intertel employees watching the doors were forced backwards by soldiers that kicked the doors open and threatened their lives with rifles. The metal detectors screamed in resistance with every soldier that passed through, the blaring alarms did not deter the soldiers though.

Within minutes the doors of the elevator whined open, Intertel employees scrambling from their desks with papers in a fast-paced move to destroy as much evidence as possible. SDF soldiers fired on the unnarmed civilians, spraying red mist into the air and over the thin slices of documents. The rest of the tiny spy ants stopped their work and hit the floor. A man at a desk outside the offices where Bahn and others were holding a meeting protested the intrusion of the soldiers with a pistol. He got off three shots before he hit the floor.

The black boots of the SDF forced open the doors of the meeting, almost stunned to see the officials sitting in their chairs like a turkey shoot, as if their position within the Unity Party provided them some sort of protection against a pissed off military woman.

Bahn rose from his chair and threw a pen at the soldiers as they lined themselves up along the wall, rifles pointed at the men who stared at them from the black office chairs. "What is the meaning of this treason!" Bahn shouted.

The soldiers said nothing, but instead a short, old Sinese woman stepped through the doorway, her military cap was almost too large for her head. Bahn reached into his jacket for his pistol, but the old woman lifted an SMG and fired into Administrator Bahn. Blood coated the wall behind him, and he fell to the ground. The officials now stared down the barrel of guns, wild-eyed and insecure. Arkhan slapped her SMG, it was jammed. She tried to unjam it as she circumvented the table to Bahn, she aimed the SMG at the dead mans torso and pulled the trigger again. Nothing.

"Give me your rifle," she ordered one of the soldiers, who stepped forward and gave her the weapon. She pointed the gun down with one arms and unloaded the clip into his body.

She looked at the rest of the people standing by the desk, staring at the blood that had splattered onto her coat. She stepped towards the soldiers at the wall. "Kill them all," she ordered.

 

[Khemia]

"The operation was a huge success, OL," a lowly officer commented to the now head-of-state, who herself sat in a chair twiddling her thumbs. The room was stark white and smelled like a hospital, two doors on either side of her provided an entrance and an exit. "Of the two thousand SDF personnel that were committed to the assault, we suffered a total of ninety-seven casualties, of which twenty were deemed severe, and no fatalities. The Police, for their part in cooperating, suffered just under two hundred casualties, and no fatalities as well. We're working on compensating them for damages as I speak."

"Fantastic, the Police followed the plan," she smiled. Her ruse to get the Party to reveal its motives had worked, and she looked at the door to her left. "Is she ready?"

"She's still in recovery from the shock," the soldier nodded, "but she's alive."

"Her escort?"

"Her escort is fine, she sustained a concussion and some bumps and bruises, but is already pacing her room like a zealous woman."

Looks like women were taking control of Sinhai; Arkhan smiled as she considered one of Bahn's last phrases before his carcass had been filled with lead not even 24 hours later. "I'll stay here to make sure that Visariya is fine. Go and tell Commander Manisha to reopen the market, and I want that damned UBN to be privatized. I want something entertaining."

"Yes OL."

The trooper left, and Ahremen rose from her chair and stepped through the door to Visariya's room, where the beeps of a machine functioned as a metronome breaking the eerie silence to tell Arkhan that the President was still alive. This. Is. My. Heart. Beat. It spoke to her.

Ahremen sat down in a chair beside the President, she wasn't quite sure the young girl was conscious or not until the womans head turned to the old military leader with a slight smile.

"You didn't have to shoot me," she coughed.

"There was a camera watching, we had to make it look realistic."

"I'm glad you decided my idea was a good one," Visariya smiled.

"Rubber bullets, yes, grand idea. Now we can call this the Rubber Revolution. I'm sure the sex industry would find a way to boost sales with that name," Arkhan said and Visariya struggled to laugh nervously.

"How are Bahn and the others?" she asked.

"Dead."

"Oh..."

"I didn't want to have some messy trial that may or may not work. We all know the judges weren't going to be excited about convicting the head of Intertel and the majority of the Party leaders," Arkhan explained, choosing to ignore the personal reasons for which she had really executed the man. In truth she could probably have just bombed the building with planes, but she wanted to watch him die.

Visariya sighed, listening to the machines inform her she was still alive. She analyzed the tubes coming out of her body and wasn't quite aware that all of this was actually necessary. The past two weeks, though, had taken their toll on her nerves, and she was more than grateful to be resting in this bed.

"So, how long until I can get up and back to my job?" Visariya asked frankly.

Arkhan smiled, "Give it a day or two. We'll get the rest of the system back to work for you. I don't feel like being a politician."