“For what?” she inquired archly.
“For abuse! For rape.”
She laughed. “That gentle man? He never abused me!”
“You love him yet!” the lawyer accused her.
“I have always loved him, ever since he mastered me. I always will.”
The lawyer pounced. “And what does your husband make of this?”
Admiral Phist smiled. “I understand completely.”
“Your wife loves Hope Hubris, and you understand?”
“Of course. I love his sister.” He made a nod in Spirit's direction, and Spirit smiled. She loved another man now, but considerable feeling for Gerald remained.
The Justices sat stonily. How was this affecting them? The lawyer's gaze cast about the chamber as if he were looking for something to hang on to. They fixed on Hopie. Suddenly they widened in wild surmise.
“A Saxon woman,” he said. “Still in love with her former husband, free to travel where she wishes, without objection by her present husband--” He whirled on Roulette. “Where were you, Roulette Phist, fifteen years ago?”
Roulette straightened, quickly assessing the situation. She glanced at Hopie. "Why, I don't remember.
But--"
“Will you submit to a maternity blood-typing test?”
“You'll have none of my blood, mate!”
“Do you deny that you are the mother of that child?” And he pointed dramatically at Hopie, who seemed equally startled.
Roulette considered, playing her scene. “Where was I, that year, dear?” she asked her husband, her lovely brow furrowing in seeming concentration.
Admiral Phist grinned. “You have certainly traveled widely, Rue.”
“This is no laughing matter!” the attorney snapped. “As you, Admiral, should be the first to recognize!”
Roulette studied Hopie openly. “She certainly is a pretty one,” she said, turning once more to her husband. “She does favor Hope. Do you think I could have...?”
Gerald had been looking at Spirit, and it was evident that he was catching on. Slowly he nodded, as if coming to a conclusion. “It does seem possible,” he agreed.
“But if I claim her she would have to leave Jupiter.”
“True,” he agreed soberly. “It had better remain secret.”
The lawyer was flushing, aware that he was being mocked. One of the Justices was quirking half a smile.
“Madam, your blood type is surely on record. We can verify--”
“Lots of luck, shithead,” she said sweetly. “I'm not a Jupe citizen. I came here only for the chance to see the man I love.”
There was a muffled chortle from another Justice; evidently he understood about lovely women coming to see powerful men. But Spirit knew that none of this was doing Hope's case or her own much good. The executive and legislative branches of the government were already against him; where would the judicial be when its limited mirth abated?
There was a brief recess following this interview. Admiral Phist and Roulette approached the section where Hope sat with Megan, Spirit, Hopie, and Shelia. “May we?” Roulette asked Megan.
Megan smiled with a certain gentle resignation, then swung her chair around so as to face away. Spirit and Hope stood up, and Gerald took Spirit into his arms and kissed her, and Roulette did the same to Hope. Hopie's eyes widened, as did those of a number of the other folk present.
Then they separated. “You have secrets yet,” Gerald murmured to Spirit.
“You remarried another pirate wench almost before I was gone,” she said with mock reproof. “What did you expect?”
He smiled wistfully. “But the dear knows who you'll marry.”
“Iron maidens don't marry often.”
They departed. Megan turned around again, ending her symbolic ignorance. “She's beautiful,” she said to Hope. “She does still love you.”
“I gave her up for you,” he reminded her.
“I can't think why.” In her view she was his fifth wife, following Helse, Juana, Emerald, and Rue, and she was jealous of none of the others.
But the scene was painful for Spirit. She had married only once, but loved twice, and lived a lie.
Next day the news arrived: the decision of the Supreme Court, by a vote of six to five, with one abstention, was in favor of the legislation. The interpretation stood, and Hope and Spirit were barred from assuming the offices to which they had been elected. All three branches of the government were against them, and they had lost, thanks to dirty politics.
But Spirit had prepared for this. “The game has not yet been played out,” she said. “Tocsin has been concentrating on controlling the branches of the government; we have been concentrating on the will of the people. Ultimately that will must prevail.”
Hope did not know what she had in mind, but trusted her to get it done. There was certainly a reaction from the people. Demonstrations erupted in all the major cities, from Nyork to Langels, so fervent that they overwhelmed the police, who, it seemed, were not unduly committed to their suppression. All across the planet the chant sounded: “Hubris! Hubris!” Hope and Spirit had been elected, and the popular mandate was being thwarted by a technicality, and even some pretty solid conservatives, such as Thorley, questioned that. The common man was angry. The migrant workers of the agricultural orbit rioted, doing no damage to the crops but hardly bothering to conceal the threat--in the event Hope did not take office. They regarded him as one of their own, with some justice. Likewise, women of every walk of life made a more subtle demonstration, as even some opposing legislators confessed ruefully; and those men who sought relief at establishments of ill repute discovered that the girls there were boycotting any man who did not support Hope's candidacy. Something very like a revolution was building.
The great ships of the Navy moved closer yet, and Spirit realized that Tocsin had anticipated trouble like this. If he declared a national emergency he would assume extraordinary powers--and would not use them to benefit democracy.
Hope had to pacify the animals. He addressed his supporters, in their separate categories, pleading with the Hispanics to keep the peace so as not to reflect unfavorably on their kind, which included himself and his sisters and daughter; he assured the Blacks that he was doing everything in his power to see that justice would be done; he begged the women to wait a few days more, for something good might come of our various appeals on technical grounds, or from the upcoming special election.
It worked. The tide of violence receded, and life returned to an approximation of normal. But everyone knew that phenomenal activity could break out almost instantly if triggered. The Navy ships orbited very close, ready and ominous.
Naturally Thorley commented. He pointed out something few people had noticed: There was one of the perennial movements afoot for a constitutional convention to balance the budget. Now the constitutional convention, he explained, was a truly venerable device; it rose directly from the people, by way of the several state legislatures, and once it passed certain hurdles, it could not be denied. This one was now only two states shy of the necessary two-thirds majority of state approvals to become viable, and once it became established, it could not be dissolved by any power other than itself. The present system of government, he reminded Jupiter, had been instituted by the first constitutional convention, close to nine hundred years ago, and could conceivably be overturned by another. Such a convention might be brought into being for a specific purpose, but it was under no binding directive to stick to that purpose.
“You may suppose this is a simple matter of balancing the chronically unbalanced planetary budget,” he concluded, “but it could conceivably be the route to tyranny. A fire, once started, may spread beyond the original site.”
Exactly. That was Spirit's secret weapon, carefully honed. The measure was currently up for consideration in five states, and two of them were Golden and Sunshine. Spirit had been shuttling her attention back and forth between them, working to get them to vote to establish the constitutional convention.
In one of the brief interstices, as Spirit waited for a ship to transport her to Golden, Shelia approached her. “This is going to go that route,” she said.
“Yes. Thanks to our planning and organization. You have performed splendidly, Shelia.”
“I--we need to know,” Shelia said hesitantly.
This was different. “Know what? You already know more about this campaign than anyone else. You're our communications hub.”
“When it happens, Megan won't go along.”
Spirit hadn't thought of that aspect. “I suppose she won't. Hope will have to go without her. He won't like that.”
“He will be in pain. I--we can't stand to see that. If we can help.”
“He has lost wives before. He'll survive.”
“Yes. He will do what he has to do. We all will. But if we can--”
Something was skew. “Shelia, spit it out. What's on your mind?”
“When the time comes--will there be staff privileges?”
“Staff privileges? I don't follow.”
“We love him. Coral, Ebony, and I. If he separates from Megan, are we entitled?”
Then Spirit caught on. The loyal staff members were also Hope's women. Like all of his women, they wanted him physically as well as emotionally. They had served loyally for fifteen years, risking their lives in the course of the campaign. They were indeed entitled.
“You--confined to the wheelchair--can you--?”
“If he helps. I--I have never been with a man, but I know I could, if he wishes.”
And of course Coral and Ebony were able and more than willing. It might even help alleviate Hope's coming distress, and enable him to function better as leader. So it made sense on more than one plane.
“Yes. If he wishes.”
“Thank you.”
Then it was time for Spirit's ship, and they separated. She leaned down to hug Shelia. “In fact, I hope he wishes,” she said. “You--all three of you--are more than deserving.” The woman smiled, seeming to glow.
And the political ploy happened. They had strong support in both states, for one was where Megan had been a representative, and the other was their own political base. On January 18 Sunshine ratified the bill, and on the nineteenth Golden followed suit. They could have done it earlier, but Spirit had arranged for the delay in order to keep this from being a public issue before it had to be. Timing was vital--and now was the time.
On the twentieth, the day the presidency was supposed to change, the constitutional convention convened. A clear majority of the delegates were Hope's supporters. The whole time Hope had been captive, Spirit had been touring the planet in his stead, giving public speeches and privately seeing to the selection of the delegates for this convention, so that there would be no confusion or delay at the critical moment. The skids had been greased, and the whole thing came into being with amazing ease, fully formed. Tocsin's forces, supposing they had victory in hand as long as they held Hope captive, had not been aware of this. They had been blinded by their own connivance, not recognizing Spirit for what she was: the mistress of their undoing. They really should have abducted the Iron Maiden instead.
So Spirit was in the state of Golden, where she had gone to oversee the final ratification. She caught a few hours of sleep she desperately needed, before tuning in on the national proceedings again. The skids were greased, but might still need attention.
Now the constitutional convention, governed by that majority, acted with extraordinary dispatch. First it declared that the budget should be balanced. Then it declared that, inasmuch as neither executive, legislative, nor judicial branches of the government had proved able or willing to do this in the past century, all were to be disbanded forthwith. Then its spokesman addressed Hope publicly:
“Hope Hubris, as the evident choice of the people of the United States of Jupiter, do you pledge to balance the budget without delay or compromise, if granted the power to do so?”
“I do,” Hope replied. It really was not a difficult answer.
“Then this convention hereby declares Hope Hubris to be the new government of this nation, effective immediately.”
And there it was. Spirit's counter-ploy had just trumped Tocsin's machinations.
There was political and social chaos. Ex-President Tocsin acted instantly. He renounced the validity of the constitutional convention, declared planetary martial law, and postponed the date of the changeover of the office of the presidency, to preserve, as he put it, “the present constitutional system of Jupiter.” In the name of this preservation he directed the Jupiter Navy to enforce his edicts. He was, in fact, assuming dictatorial powers himself, as Thorley recognized.
But the states knew that the Constitutional Convention was valid, and there was open rebellion against Tocsin's machinations. Violence was incipient. What was the answer?
“We are hoist between Scylla and Charybdis,” Thorley said when the news service was scrambling for precedents and comment. “Faced with a choice between a tyrant of the left or of the right.”
“But which side is correct?” the interviewer persisted.
Thorley grimaced. “Appalling as I find the situation, I have to say that technically the constitutional convention is correct. This is a horrendous abuse of its office, but it does have the power to void our entire system of government.”
“But the Navy--”
“Ah, yes, the Navy,” he agreed. “If the Navy answers to President Tocsin, then perhaps might will make right. We are in an unprecedented pass.”
The interview was interrupted for more pressing action. Tocsin was on again. “I declare Hope Hubris to be a traitor to Jupiter, and I order his immediate arrest. I am directing the Navy to dispatch a ship for this purpose.”
The picture shifted to the representative of the Navy. Emerald's dusky face came on. Spirit smiled; they had labored to see that this admiral held this position at this time. There was no way Emerald would arrest Hope. “The Jupiter Navy recognizes the authority of the legally constituted government of the United States of Jupiter,” she said. “This authority, as we understand it, now lies with the constitutional convention. The convention has appointed Hope Hubris as the government. Accordingly, the Navy answers to Hope Hubris.” She paused, her gaze seeking Hope, and quickly the news cameras shifted to him. “What is your will, sir?” There was a certain relish in the way she accented that last word. The military was answering to the civilian, and a woman was answering to the man she loved.