[h1]New Auslassia[/h1] [h2]North Brunswell[/h2] [h3]Broken Barrows Station[/h3] [i]A day after the last post[/i] The four-by-four rolled out through the shadow of an arched wooden gate in the fence-line, following a two-track through the bush land. Great fenced pastures flanked the road on either side holding great flocks of kuey Birds, dull gray or dusty brown, winds tipped in yellow or faces splashed with dull sandy yellow spots. As the car rolled passed, the flocks looked up from whatever they were doing and took a curiosity in the coming vehicle and all came running to the fence line. As high as their heads were tall, they couldn't jump the wooden and wire fence if they wanted, but they pressed themselves against it and ran parallel following the strange moving machine, and its occupants as it rolled past, their heads turning and twisting as they looked at it from different angles, all the while keeping perfect pace. The kuey bird caught the other day twitched and lurched impatiently in the bed of the truck as it fought against the tight grip of Baro Daro to rise out of the bed. He pulled down against it, holding the bound bird against the warm sand filled bed of the truck before it could throw itself out and hurt or kill itself in the fall. But as they drove on further than the pasture went, the other birds quickly lost interest and the captured bird immediately settled. From pens and fenced pasture came workshops, barns, and the many utility buildings for a ranching operation. From the shed for pumping water and down even to the slaughtering and processing house for the preparation and distribution of culled birds. At far end encircled by a ring of towering, red leafed rosatia trees was a tall white house in the middle of a well watered and manicured lawn. A wrap around front porch contained many seats to sit, and three now were occupied. Rising from one a man in a light tan suit stepped forward and rested his arms on the porch railing. Driving closer Roger could see he was smiling. He pulled to the edge of the dirt road that encircled the rancher's house and shut off the engine. Quickly a team of ranch hands, man and beast-man alike rushed forward and helped Baro Daro and Tracker bring down and escort off the large confused bird. “Good to see one back in one piece.” the man on the porch called down, “How was the trip, mate? How much brandy is it worth?” “Bloody hell, a good three rounds I reckon.” Roger said, walking down the flagstone path in the yard, “But she's done.” “Splendid!” the man exclaimed, before turning to the woman seated next to him, “Claire, would you mind fetching us some brandy? We need a toast to a job well done.” The woman rose and slipped inside the white screen door as Roger stepped up onto the porch. Sea-green floorboards creaked underfoot as he walked over to take a seat vacated by the ranch boss, now standing. At over six foot two, he was an imposing man with a broad elephantine frame. In his youth he may have been a sports man, perhaps wrestling by Roger's best guess. But in the intervening years he had packed on a gut to add to his physique. He turned back to his seat, and sat down; fanning his plump red face with an old bush hat. “Tell me, how were the hands that went with you?” he asked. “Those two? Lord, Kevin: that Baro nut sleeps like he's his own thunderstorm. And that Tracker lads top off his rails.” The rancher laughed, “Would've thought so. Tracker is a toppo.” “He got the job done though.” “Well said.” Kevin said with a sigh, “I'll be sure to throw an extra bottle of gin his way.” “With a head like his you think that's wise? He'll be off his cracker, never mind the rails.” “Psh, you now how the Alties are. They pack the good water away faster than you can blink. Pat themselves on the back for it, the rump too I would imagine. Blimey, you've seen the amount of bottles they hand up around their shacks. They brag about it!” “I've seen them rummage in the garbage for them too.” Roger said. “Pish-posh, they're trying to cover for themselves. Inflate the score!” The woman, Kevin's wife stepped back out onto the porch. While as old as he, Claire held a figure far better than the fat rancher next to Richard. Her features were sharp and pointed, and the green field shirt she wore hugged the narrow waist she managed to keep. She placed on the table between the two men a bottle of amber brandy, and several shot glasses. Kevin went to immediately pour, and offered one up to Richard. “To businesses done well!” he toasted. “To good business.” Richard agreed, and clinking glasses they down their shot. “By the way, I believe you met my son before.” Kevin said, turning to direct Richard's attention to the third individual on the porch. Half turning out of his seat Richard reached over to shake hands with the other. “Mathias, it's been a while. Out of the academy now I take it.” Richard said with a wide smile. Mathias, a tall athletic type smiled broadly. His wide cheeks glowed with pride as he met Richard's hand and took it. “Ay, just got done with it half past last month. Been travelin' a bit before I decided to come back to the old watering hole.” He wore an olive green dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to past the elbows. The short shorts he wore too made his white legs appear longer than they were. Long green socks made up the difference over his calves, and a pair of black boots adorned his feet. “Where you going to next then?” Richard asked as he sat back down. “They got me running security detail at the docks.” he said, “Not the most exciting thing in the world, at least not until another war kicks up.” “Let's not let that be bloody deadset.” Kevin interjected, “I would rather not have trouble.” He refilled the shot glasses. “But debrief me,” Kevin began, “how'd it go out there?” “Three days in, two days out.” Richard said, “Went a lot further than we thought, must of walked off for longer than you were told. We was coming in on The Shafts when we found 'er. Had to shoot off dingos.” “A walk about in tha' bush then.” Kevin said, drinking. Richard followed suit. “Would have been one if we had some amber!” Richard exclaimed. “Ay, indeed.” “Well,” Kevin said with a sigh, pouring a third and final shot, “Last for the day. Ya did good mate, here's to you.” they toasted, “Bonus on the next pay check.” [h1]Milbury[/h1] [i]Present day[/i] “My honorable companions in the chambers,” the speaker began as he stood before the towering cathedral windows of the chambers of the House of State. Sat atop a hill, the central legislative assembly held a commanding view of the capital city through the tall vaulted windows of its main hall. Stretching out before it in all varieties of shape and color the Auslassian capital of Milbury filled in its gentle valley on its march to the sea. The south-coast sky as clear as an unblemished sapphire. The sunlight shone bright off of the shooting arms of the legislative seat, twisting and undulating like ocean waves captured in pearly mortar and crushed lime. Radiating paved paths divided up a green garden lawn, and from the speaker's position one such path seemed to bisect the central window clear in half. “The words that have come out of this man's gabber are totally, conceivably, an admonished lie to pull the legs from our very bodies.” the speaker continued as he paced down away from the windows into the chamber's center. The chamber was a round central hall cozily seating forty-five in a circular seating arrangement that slowly fell to a central low dais. A man was seated there in a dark wood dining room chair, his arms folded in his lap as he waited with an irritated expression for the diatribe to end. “We have heard nothing from him but excuses and slander. His words are not worth more than the mud between a dingo's toes. There is nothing worse that has come from anyone's mouth in the name of the national good than from this man's.” While the chambers were made for forty-five, today's attendance was little more than eight. All primarily of the Committee of Public Oversight. Present too were reporters who stood above the seats looking down, leaning on a polished silver handrail as they danced their fingers across the transparent screens of personal notepads taking down notes as a camera-armed drone hovered nearby holding a constant frame on the mostly empty seats and the speaker and his victim down below. The scene in its loneliness was sad. The speaker spoke in a loud booming voice as if addressing a full house. But other than his speech the only other sound came from the hard knocking of his boots on the hard-wood floorboards, polished to reflect the white-wash walls of the chamber as they rose, morphed and came to a point in a representation of an old sailing ship's sails. The ship of state, as much as it was its house. Though it was only the galley. “The malfeasance carried out by your practices has perhaps jeopordized the lives and fortunes of millions across Auslassia.” the speaker continued, “And you seek to continue to sit here and continue to deny, despite three audits by this commission that your company has been acting in neglect towards this government.” The man seated rolled his eyes. Why the subject needed to be reminded felt unneeded. But the speaker, in his black suit and collar raised up around his neck continued along, “One-hundred millions missing from the health accounts of over two-hundred thousand of your healthcare consumers, money to pay for subsidies provided by the state missing and over two-thousand complaints received across the country on reimbursements promised to them having failed to be paid. Two-hundred fifty thousand potential AND qualifying new members denied their coverage, and many more! Master Thompson Brookridge, time and time in examining audited reports back seven years our investigators have found missing from use public funding. And when I stand before you and demand to know what happened all you can do is shrug, and say you do not know where it went?” “May I speak?” Thompson Brookridge asked, as the tirade settled. He was a handsome man in the mid-years of his life. His blonde hair was beginning to loose its luster though and beginning to fade to white. As well his defined chin was beginning to sag and soften. But when he went to the mirror still, he found that with the least effort he could still see himself presentable alongside the self-idealizing image of his own youth and skill. “You may.” the speaker said. Who was close to his opposite in physical build. While younger his dark brown hair was receding. He had a soft frame and was very round. He tried to hide it by holding in his gut, but it was a vein effort that only gave the impression of being a buffed up bird. “The errors in our financial reports are easily explained. My company has complied with your investigation requests and has turned over the insurance information for its entire two-hundred fifty seven clients enrolled into our plan. We have gone further to provide customer opinion data and Gold Beach Health Options is having its fifth platinum year alone. These charges that you insist you have found are baseless allegations. If you were to correctly read the budget data for the past sixteen quarters then you would have clearly seen that we have appropriately used the subsidy funds provided to us to provide low-cost coverage excellently. The stream bubbles clear, as it is said. There is nothing that is happening.” “My friend,” the speaker with a disciplining voice, “that information you have provided to us was edited this past week. And to back our claims we can provide, as evidence, the disassociation between your tax claims these past four years versus subsidy payouts from the treasury with the returns you surrendered to us for this investigation!” the speaker shouted. He reached into his pocket and produced a palm-size object, about the size of a round tuna can and turned it on. With a electrical buzz audible in the stillness of the chambers in activated and projected a hologram in the air ahead of the speaker. The projection moved based on how he manipulated the projector as he placed it on the floor. Waving his hands through the air the speaker touched his fingers to holographic panels and moved them around. Speaking as he did so. In the benches a man leaned in towards Kevin. “He's going to be yabbering for a while, I imagine.” the legislator said in a drained, tired voice. Kevin nodded, he rubbed his eyes with his fat hands and snorted in exhaustion. “Should've stayed home.” “Then he would have been on your arse.” the other said, “There's no two way around it, the waker likes his audience, no matter how small. I like to imagine he's practicing on live bait before we move onto the bigger fish. Don't you think? What do you think he'll pull out of his magic box later this month in the energy bill, master Whittaker?” “Empty gas is all.” Kevin said with a sigh, “All it'll end up being. It's remarkable he was able to put in head of any committee. How close again was he with his Honorable Wythall?” “I suppose he's something like a second cousin, or went to school with him.” the other man said in a feigned interested voice. The words rested there and sleepily leaving his tongue and taking all matter of respect with him revealing the faint barbs of disdain they covered behind. He smiled a little, it was no secret the speaker down below, Sydney Ashland was hardly well liked. A former lawyer, his speaking style was developed in the courts of the cities, written to move the sympathies of the merchant's wives or bankers' – out of hours – sympathies in any level of trial. The rural leaders, such as Kevin and his partner alongside him, carried the brutal bluntness in speeches that shed pretense or decorum to make drama as forged in the bush. Appealing to no morality but the terror of threatening to shoot men down should they threaten to strike. “Red Stone kids I guess always stick together.” Kevin said, referring to the premier academy in the country for boys in high-stations. “Have you heard the news?” the other asked Kevin, interested. “I've been too busy with business affairs. Someone's been letting birds loose.” “Shame, well I heard something right ripper from the papers.” “Oh?” “Suppose the imperial overlords had an encounter in orbit.” the other remarked, “Heard it from my brother. He was on trade over that side of the planet, some private business. One night he catches through his window an impossibly bright light, almost as if a second sun went off. Says he gets bloody startled but curious, and he goes to see what's what. Claims he sees a fire-ball somewhere in the sky as its dying out. Time later, someone says to him it was a nuke. A lot of military got scattered.” “Sounds about right for them.” Kevin said, sharing no sympathy with the Cindoyrai. Ever since their use of nuclear weapons in the War, there had been a simmering tension among many in government towards them. With all considered, one who is unafraid to use nuclear weapons is not unlike a dangerous wild dog. “It's got some talking about the Cyndies.” the other said, “There's some good talk around. Useful gabber.”