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The honeymoon period is over. Tinaya and Arqut have to set aside the fact
that they’re married now, and focus on the new age that is hopefully
dawning. She has completed her proposal for a new official form of
government. It’s not going to be a radical departure from the way things
already are, but it’s a pretty big change from what’s currently in the law
books. No more First Chair, no more Second Chair. The line that separates
the civilian passengers from the crew is going to be blurred, with each
branch working together to support each other’s needs, and to work towards
the betterment of the ship. Most vessels do it more like this, which is
understandable thanks to their short trip times. There’s no reason for a
full government when the journey is going to take a week or two. At that
point, only the safety of everyone on board matters, and the crew is there
for that. Extremus is going to be here for a total of 216 years, so it made
sense to do it differently. But it doesn’t have to be that way, and if the
others in charge start to listen to Tinaya, it won’t be for much longer.
She has distributed the new plan, and given everyone a week to look it over
by themselves. The council members, high government offices, and executive
crew members were strongly discouraged from discussing it with each other in
the meantime, so everyone can be on the same page during the official
discussions, but they surely broke this unwritten rule. They’re all here in
the meeting room today, listening to Tinaya speak on it herself, and then
they’ll go from here. She doesn’t just rehash what’s already in the written
proposal. She gets into why they should do this, and how it would make
things better and easier for everyone. They have some concerns. One of them
is secrets and compartmentalization, and the other is the balance of power.
The current council leader is named Millaray Addison. “This is a quick
timeline. You want us to change everything about how we run things in only
three years? Forgive me, under three years, since we’re already in the
middle of Year 70.”
“I felt it was important to begin the transition before I have the chance to
run again for my final term. It would be very easy for someone in power to
make a plan to abolish their own position when they won’t be holding onto it
much longer anyway. That is why I will be stepping down at the end of my
third term. I mean that no matter what. To show you how deeply passionate I
am in favor of this change, I will not have a fourth term, regardless of
what we decide about our future in the coming months.”
Lataran stands. “And what of me and my position? Would you have me step down
as well?”
“The captaincy does not go away in my proposal,” Tinaya assures her.
“This is true,” Millaray agrees. “Why is that? Why lose the Chairs, but keep
the Captain and Lieutenant? Is it because she is your friend?”
“In order for the crew to run smoothly,” Tinaya begins, “it must be at least
partially militaristic in nature. No military in the universe could survive
as a democracy. Someone must be in charge; at the top of the chain of
command. The civilian government, on the other hand, would work just fine
with a council. It already is. You make more decisions than I do on a
regular basis. All this proposal does is make that official.”
“Well, it does more than that,” Council Leader Addison contends. “There are
virtually no procedures for passing legislation.”
“Yes, there are,” Tinaya argues. “Everything will be a referendum.”
“Right.” Millaray quite nearly rolls her eyes. “Referendums, where everyone
votes. Would that not become tedious and overly complex? There’s a reason
why we have a representative government. You vote for the people who make
decisions for you. That is how the common man’s voice is heard, not
literally one by one. What you describe here would be cumbersome. How do you
expect to pull it off?”
“I don’t expect to pull anything off. I will not be involved,” Tinaya
promises. “It’s very important that I lose all semblance of power here, or
it will appear selfish and self-serving. I’m afraid, if you agree to this,
you would have to deal with everything yourselves. The way I see it, drawing
up these plans is how I contribute, and now that it’s done, my part should
be too. I don’t mean to sound like I’m abandoning you, but I really think
that this won’t work if there is any hint of impropriety. Lots of great
First Chairs have served fewer than four terms. Well, I suppose there have
not been lots of us at all, but you know what I mean.”
Consul Abdastartus Sievert is a quiet man; one of those people who only
speaks when it’s necessary, and when he feels that it is indeed the case,
he’s always right. When it looks like he’s about to say something, most
people know to shut up and let him do it. He’s been leaning back in his
chair, but he sits up straight now. The room falls silent. “I appreciate the
sentiment, First Chair Leithe. I think we all do. However, you will forgive
us for finding the prospect of losing your input permanently to
be...unsettling. You have birthed this project, now you must raise it.”
“Now, hold on,” Millaray interrupts. “We’ve not agreed to anything...”
Consul Sievert holds up a hand to quiet her. “Everyone has been discussing
this plan since she first sent it to us. Don’t think I’ve not heard. We all
have questions, comments, and concerns. The plan needs tweaking, and then no
matter what, we will decide upon it by referendum. The Extremusians will
have their chance to speak, and we’ll hear anyone who wishes to vocalize
their opinion before the vote. Referendums are not difficult these days.
We’re not going to use paper, for heaven’s sake. A more fair democracy is
well within our reach on a logistical level. But there is one major thing
that needs to be changed before we get to that point. Someone needs to be in
charge of making sure it works. They need to keep up with the maintenance.”
Some people wear watches, while others were wristbands. The former is good
enough in most cases, but for those who deal with documents, like the
consul, they prefer to have a large screen, especially since their documents
are sensitive, and holograms would not be appropriate in mixed company.
Consul Sievert swipes up on his to cast a document onto the main screen for
all to see. Addendum Two Forty-Nine, Reinstatement of the Superintendent.”
The Superintendent is the so-called god of this universe, and if he exists,
he has nothing to do with this. The Superintendent of Extremus, on the other
hand, was a short-lived position given to a man who turned out to be a
traitor. The ship did not launch with a superintendent, and it has not had
one since, but it remains an option. Tinaya considered including it in her
original proposal, but she was pretty sure that they would ask her to do it,
so she intentionally left it out. Now it seems there’s no way around it. “I
don’t think that’s necessary,” she claims. “The system is based on the
greatest number of voices for the greatest common good. No one needs to be
at the top.”
“That’s not what a superintendent does,” Lataran reminds her. She’s right,
and Tinaya knows that. Like the superintendent of an apartment building, her
job would be to fix issues as they come up, not to make decisions. But
that’s not really what happened when Calixte Salmon held the responsibility.
Not only did he actively endanger the safety of the crew and passengers, but
he was found to have abused his power on a regular basis. There is a lot of
historical stigma attached to it now. “I second the Consul’s motion. The
proposal outlines what we need to do to make the transition. It doesn’t account
for everything. It can’t.”
“If everyone feels that way,” Tinaya begins, “then give me another month.
I’ll add whatever needs to be added to make it work on its own. It should be
a well-oiled machine. That’s the whole point. If anyone’s going to be
superintendent, then why change anything at all? Why not just redefine the
First Chair’s purview?”
“Because that’s a different meeting,” Council Leader Addison says. “I didn’t
spend all this time reading the document you prepared, only to have most of
it erased in favor of simply rewriting your job description.”
“So you believe in this proposal?” Lataran asks her.
“I never said that I didn’t,” Addison replies. “I just want to make sure we
get it right. This is a good start, First Chair Leithe. It needs work.”
“I agree.” Well, Tinaya does agree, but maybe not to as high of a degree as
the Council Leader is implying with her tone.
“Is that what we’re doing here today?” Lataran questions. “Are we just
deciding whether we should work on this further? If that’s what’s happening,
then let’s stop arguing, and actually get to it. Nothing we do with the
framework has to have any bearing on how the ship is actually run, because
nothing’s happening yet. We’re just sharing a document.” She’s right about
this too. This is only the beginning.
“I suppose we’re here to discuss whether we even want to keep discussing it
or not,” Addison determines.
“Anyone who is adamant that we should put the kibosh on this project right
now without any further discussion, run to the other side of the room, and
tap the back wall with your left hand,” Lataran suggests.
Addison sighs. “That is not how we do things here, Captain.”
“That’s the way I do it,” Lataran jokes under her breath.
Tinaya can’t help but smirk at the remark.
“All right. Here’s how we’ll move forward,” Addison continues. “You’ve all
had time to look over the proposal, but you’ve not necessarily put down any
notes. Everyone here will do that over the course of the next...shall we
say, two weeks. Submit your input to First Chair Leithe, who will take our
suggestions under advisement, and draft a new version. She’ll then resubmit
it back to us, and we’ll take another week to look over the improvements.
That is when we will reconvene, and discuss any persistent issues. Also at
that meeting, we’ll talk about how we’ll continue on from there. Everything
make sense? Good, let’s go to lunch,” she says before anyone has a chance to
respond.
The next couple of months are grueling. Everyone on the council picks apart
every word Tinaya wrote in her proposal, and tries to come up with something
better. Whenever she starts to think that maybe they’re happy enough with
it, they find something else to change. They go through this a few more
times until the final document resembles the original one more closely than
it does any of the other versions. Her first ideas turn out to be the best.
Except for the superintendent part. They do end up putting that in there. It
doesn’t specifically say that Tinaya has to be the one to do it, but the
whole population of the ship is going to vote on it next year, so she fully
expects them to ask her. She needs to find them an alternative. She’s about
ready to retire.
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