Multireal by David Louis Edelman

gasping, eking out the last fifteen minutes of his life on a Council
stretcher with Council dartguns aimed at his head and Council hoverbirds whirring in the background. Denied access to the soothing balms
of the Dr. Plugenpatch databases, lest someone discover he had not
perished instantly in the wreckage. Cursing Len Borda to the very end.
    "He should have compromised," muttered the high executive,
gripping tightly onto the railing. Whether he was speaking to Magan
or to himself was unclear. "He didn't have to come to such an end. But
these Surinas, they're all the same. Too full of pride, too nearsighted to
see what's right in front of their noses. I tell you, it must be something
in the curry." He leaned on the railing and peered out to the sea, but
his attention was not on anything visible there. The British sloop
began to pick up speed, causing the few remaining hairs on Borda's
head to flap in the wind.
    Magan stood his ground, icy silent, and made no reply.

    "It was a choice I had to make!" yelled Len Borda suddenly, snapping his fingers and wheeling on his lieutenant executive. "What
should I have done? Let Surina hand out teleportation to every man,
woman, and child? Assassins zapping onto the floor of the Prime Committee! People teleporting into walls! Millions dead! Would you have
that blood on your hands?" The high executive aimed one finger
straight at Magan's chest. His voice was a thunderbolt, a primal and
electric force of nature. "Consequences? Yes! There were consequences,
Magan. Strong actions always have them. A new TeleCo board willing
to listen to reason. A board smart enough to apply the appropriate safeguards. It was a necessary change. And if such a change required a-a
market adjustment ... then ..."
    Len Borda slipped into a troubled silence, which Magan Kai Lee
made no effort to fill. The high executive was not blind. He had seen
the millions wandering the streets for years with nothing but worthless TeleCo stock to their name. He had seen teleportation technology
crawl back into the marketplace a stunted and crippled thing, too
expensive for the masses to afford, too unreliable for the moneyed to
trust.
    And now Len Borda stood on the prow of his SeeNaRee ship, not
just the most powerful man in the world, not just the master of the
Council's invincible armies-but an old man with a fractured mind, a
man who had sacrificed some crucial chunk of his mortality fifty years
ago in a shuttle explosion on Furtoid.
    Short-term plans, long-term problems.
    Magan Kai Lee pressed his advantage. "You made a mistake," he
said. "I can't allow you to make the same mistake again."
    The high executive's voice was a croak. "And what say do you have
in the matter?"
    Magan steeled his spine and summoned all the repressed rage
buried in his soul. "You gave me your word, Borda, and I intend to see
that you keep it. You will announce your retirement from the Defense and Wellness Council in four days, and turn this crisis over to me. As
we agreed two years ago." When I stood here in this office with a loaded gun
pressed to the back of your neck. When I swore to you that I would not be stung
by an assassin's dart like the other lieutenant executives before me. When you
convinced me that it would be better to take your seat as a chosen successor and
not a mutineer.

    "You don't have the experience to handle this," scoffed Borda quietly. "Marcus Surina-"
    "Marcus Surina was a buffoon. He hid behind his family name and
his reputation with the drudges. But this man, this Natch-he has no
family to lose. He has no reputation to uphold. This man will outthink
and outplot your armies until the end, Borda. No, there is only one
person capable of defeating Natch."
    "And who is that?"
    "Himself."
    Len Borda slumped perceptibly and turned back to the sea, looking
old and careworn-but not before Magan caught the briefest shimmer
in the high executive's eye.
    Magan felt a sudden nibble of doubt