My hands wouldn't stop shaking. I had kept them flat against the table so that congress wouldn't notice, but now I felt as if I was somehow out in the earthstorm, being blown about like the dirt and rock. Other members of congress returned to their work; I waited for Levi to gather his crutches and head back to his new office.
"You didn't tell me about that video," he mentioned.
He sounded a little upset and I put my hand on his arm.
"It was still playing when I put you in bed," I replied. "I didn't want to wake you."
"I could have used it against him, Dylan," Levi said. "Dashiell would have let me go so he could stay captain."
"But we needed him out of that position," I argued. "Who knew what he was going to do next? This way we can fight him in congress; he's out of power."
"I didn't want to be in congress, Dylan," he said. "We didn't win today."
"And we can solve that tomorrow," I promised, squeezing his arm. "This is a good thing; I promise."
Levi stopped in the hallway and took a step away from me. I dropped my arm, worried that he was truly upset with me. His brown eyes were red rimmed as if he was about to cry, but no tears fell.
"Not for me," he replied firmly. "Not for Anatoly. You saw the vote; congress won't let me go. Now Alcott is stuck with Tyson until something changes and..."
He stopped to glance up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. I didn't know what to do. I thought Levi would be happy that we had ousted Dashiell and that we would be able to shape the base for the better. Of course I was upset that he had been locked into the position in the archives, but at least some good had come from it.
"We can talk about this later," he said finally. "I'm really upset and I don't want to yell at you. Pas mal?"
He walked off before I had a chance to say anything in my defense. I stared after him, bewildered at his reaction. We would talk later; I needed to tell my papa the news.
"Dylan."
Dashiell approached me with a faint smile on his face.
"You sure showed me," he remarked. "I can freely admit that you surprise the hell out of me."
"Do you read much Shakespeare?" I inquired.
"Um, not in my free time, no. Why?"
"There's a scene from Pericles that's perfect for occasions like this," I told him.
"The blind mole casts Copp'd hills towards heaven, to tell the earth is throng'd
By man's oppression; and the poor worm doth die for't.
Kings are earth's gods; in vice their law's their will;
And if Jove stray, who dares say Jove doth ill?"
"Okay," Dashiell said, not understanding. "I guess I really didn't pay attention in my English classes."
"You aren't a god, Dashiell Turner," I clarified. "And you don't have control of me or my life."
"Oh, I have received that message loud and clear," he replied with a smirk. "But remember, Vertov is only interim captain. The people still have to vote on it. And the moment we have a constitution, what then? You've now made rules that mean anyone can contest captain at basically any time. Vertov is the right pick for now, but after we find some iron ore, what then? What does Vertov know about running a colony?"
"What do you?" I countered. "I'm not going away, Dashiell. I'm not letting you bully congress and shape this base in a facsimile of Earth. We don't live there."
"I suppose," he mused. "And when the next crisis hits and you turn into a husk of yourself, what then? Your partner didn't seem very happy with you. What happens when Alcott finds out you're responsible for her being stuck with Tyson? Are you willing to lose all your friends for this crusade?"
"None of us will survive with you as captain," I told him. "And I'd rather my friends be upset with me than the base be torn apart by your whims and fancy."
I stood my ground, even though his words did sting. I had shut down and abandoned my friends and partner to my depression. But I wouldn't let it happen again. Those responsible had been punished. I had to be better, both for myself and for the base.
"I look forward to our next bout then," Dashiell replied. "Don't get comfortable Dylan. This is far from over."
"Rot in hell, Turner," I replied, repeating the last words from the video log.
My words had the desired effect and I walked down the hall back to environmental. I messaged Tyson on my way back, thanking him for the information he had provided me with this morning. Dashiell knew so much more about politics, but I was determined to do what I could to bridge the gap. My papa was waiting in his office, sitting at his desk. He looked up when I came in.
"Vertov is interim captain," I said.
My papa beamed at me, rising from his seat to give me a hug. I hugged him back, glad that our early morning's work at paid off.
"Thank the seasons," he sighed. "He was a good pick, Dylan. So did everything go to plan?"
"I wasn't able to stop the vote on Levi's position," I admitted. "And Dashiell brought up another potential crisis; apparently we're running out of genetic strangers? I don't know. But I got it back on track and we voted in less than a half hour."
"Will you run for captain next?" my papa joked, releasing me. "You seemed to enjoy this sort of thing."
"Maybe," I allowed. "Later. I'm contented in environmental. And I want to understand the other departments better before I even think about that."
He laughed. "I'm sure we'll see Vertov in a minute or two. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone about the iron shortage."
"Oh, he mentioned that," I agreed. "So what do we have on our schedule?"
"I need you to sit down with Whitman and Julius and set up a priority print list," he said. "And then we need to work with Narayan to get anything we can recycle to prints so we can build. I want to send a base-wide message about recycling once I've talked to Vertov about it.
"What about me?" said Vertov himself, stepping through the sliding door.
"Congratulations?" my papa offered.
"Oh, save it, you rotated man. It's a good thing your daughter is so charming or I would have declined captain altogether."
Vertov didn't look as unhappy as he was making out to be. I hid a smile.
"We need to recycle," my papa said, returning to the previous conversation. "We could offer people credit for turning in things that we could use to print; it's not like we won't be able to reprint items later on; we just are running low now."
"True," Vertov admitted. "I'll have Lully draft something for me and then send it along to Cameron. I worry that we won't be able to wake anyone new from cryo until we have more materials; we can't print any bed frames or anything right now."
"There are extra beds all over this place," I suggested. "My papa has two in his berth, I'm sure others do too. Take extra chairs from the meeting hall; ask neighbors if they would lend dishes. We need to be more of a community anyway, this would be a good way to do so."
"I like this version of Dylan," Vertov remarked to my father. "She makes me feel far less panicky about being out of materials. You are just like your mother, dear."
I smiled, hoping that my mother could be proud of me. I missed her desperately, but I couldn't mourn her loss anymore. That didn't help anyone. She had brought both Aeneid and Canary members together, and I had hidden myself away from my problems.
"I'll send out a message to the other department heads and see if we can't bring this up at the next congress meeting. Oh, Walsh, I wasn't aware that you had stepped down."
"We voted on it this morning," my papa said. "I didn't want to give Dashiell any reason to deny Dylan access to the congress meeting. I would have just punched him, and he'd still be captain."
"Then I'm glad you're in charge, Dylan," Vertov laughed.
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Just a touch of the conniving going on in the background. I'm sure Dashiell and Dylan will battle again, but hopefully with less at stake (I doubt it) Thanks for reading!