Chapter 14

President Narval invited all INOR ambassadors to meet with him in his conference suite; the subject was not announced in advance. The ambassadors sought guidance from their home governments. In response, they were instructed to attend, make no commitments, and report back immediately on the proceedings.

As the appointed time neared, the Presidential Security Guard, augmented by a detachment of heavily armed police, moved into the conference area. They took up positions at doors leading from the President’s Suite, along the connecting corridors, and inside the Conference Room. All rooms, corridors and exterior approaches leading to the meeting site were physically and electronically searched, and the identity disks of all individuals passing through the area scrutinized and verified.

Shortly before the meeting, the President’s Council entered and took seats along the wall, leaving the chairs around the table for the guests. A lackey scampered about, lifted the lids of beakers, peered in, made minute changes in the alignment of goblets, and scuttled out.

A view tank rose from a well at the front of the room, glowed, and cleared to show the Special Zone. Charon and its background of stars had been dimmed to reduce the clutter. In the foreground, the Slingshot Logistics Depot and its maze of ships, tugs, articulated cranes and flex-conveyers were portrayed busily engaged in loading and unloading the moored vessels, and the new arrivals that waited for their turn.

A flurry rippled through the room as a door panel slid back into its slot and the Ambassadors strode in from an anteroom. They were men and women of varying appearance: tall and short, slender and rotund, and cadaverous and fleshy. More than half wore the military uniforms and ranks of their nation, and the rest were in the colorful robes of their offices and governments.

Mostly in their middle years, they had the hard, arrogant look of ruthless power, survivors of craft and intrigue. Faces suspicious and wary, they took places around the table. None spoke.

A brusque announcement cut the silence. “The President of Planet Pluto.”

President Narval, haughty in appearance and adorned in red-black robes of office, entered to the sound of sliding chairs and rustling garments as all present rose to their feet. Narval’s massive body, pear-shaped and tapering into short legs and diminutive feet, shuffled forward in top-heavy gait.

Drummer entered behind Narval and moved to stand silently beside a lectern adjacent the view tank.

Sunken between ponderous shoulders, Narval’s hairless head was small and neckless, his face smooth-pale with thin-lipped mouth and a stumpy nose. Cold, deep-embedded eyes constantly shifted focus and direction. His small hands, fingers laden with rings, appeared to drip from his sleeves.

Lumbering to his raised chair at the head of the table, Narval laboriously stepped up and sat, lifted his hand to his mouth and nibbled at a fingernail. Finally, satisfied, he held the finger up, examined it and redirected his attention to his audience.

President Reen Narval had earned the fear and respect that he enjoyed. A victor of scores of battles for control of the planet’s criminal syndicates and political machinery, Narval had left a trail of blood and broken bones behind him as a warning to challengers. Challengers to his rule did not survive.

A man of many talents, Narval had migrated to Planet Pluto from an independent colony orbiting Callisto. He had accepted expulsion from the place of his birth as the alternative to the court’s sentence of labor in Callisto’s encapsulated subsurface mines.

Educated and trained to practice law in the Outer Region’s inter-satellite and interplanetary courts he had, instead, become a serious liability to his government and to his community.

At his disbarment, the investigating officer of the Callisto Ethical Practices Board had presented irrefutable evidence of Narval’s numerous conflicts of interests, extortions, frauds and other crimes in the performance of his responsibilities as an officer-of-the-court. Removed from the judicial arena, he was proven to have also cheated in the Callisto gambling halls, swindled citizens of sound repute, and twice convicted of murder.

Callisto and its orbiting colonies were wide open, but Reen Narval was too much for them. He was told to quickly depart Callisto’s jurisdiction or take the consequences.

He left gracelessly, found a haven on Planet Pluto, and applied his many talents with vigor. Organizing Coldfield’s fragmented criminal elements, he ruled with an iron fist. Solidly entrenched, he imposed tactics of terror on the population and encountered little resistance. He rose to the top, balanced on a mound of cracked skulls and crushed bodies.

Soon after INOR came into being, Narval proclaimed Planet Pluto’s independence, with himself as President. Despite the UIPS urgent need for Planet Pluto to support Slingshot, the newly formed, but weakened government of the Inner Region was unable to influence a populace under the fist of a ruthless despot.

“I will govern well, and we shall prosper,” President Narval glibly promised the Plutonian citizenry. “I have studied and practiced interplanetary law for many years. I shall demand justice for our planet and for all our people. We will not be slaves to the imperialists of the Inner Region.”

The new President organized a brotherhood with like morals, and bestowed on them ministries of great personal influence and profit. A bureaucracy rose and flourished; the spoils systems and corruption matched those of ancient Earth.

Reen Narval, President of Planet Pluto, was caught in a dilemma.

Slingshot construction was approaching completion. The Terminals and Planet Pluto would come to a parting of the ways before the end of the century. Employment and extortionate profits from Slingshot services and industries would plummet as Planet Pluto continued outbound along its eccentric orbit into interstellar space. The economy would wither, and the inhabitants move elsewhere.