The Victorious Opposition by Harry Turtledove Read Free Book Online Page B

came back into the room. Before Jake could ask, his head of communications said, “I think that went very well, Mr. President.”
    “Good.” Featherston nodded. “Me, too. Now they know what I think of ’em. Let’s see how much nerve they’ve got.”
    Ferdinand Koenig walked into the office. The attorney general was one of Featherston’s oldest comrades, and as close to a friend as he had these days. “You told ’em, Jake,” he said. “Now we find out how smart they are.”
    “They’re a pack of damn fools, Ferd,” Jake said scornfully. “You watch. The people who’ve been running this country
are
damn fools. All we need to do is give ’em the chance to prove it.”
    Koenig had got to the office faster than Vice President Willy Knight. Knight was tall and blond and good-looking and very much aware of how good-looking he was. He’d headed up the Redemption League till the Freedom Party swallowed it. One look at his face and you could see he still wished things had gone the other way.
Too bad,
Jake thought. Knight wasn’t so smart as he thought he was, either. He never would have taken the vice-presidential nomination if he were. The vice president of the Confederate States couldn’t even fart till he got permission from the president.
    Four months on the job, and Knight still hadn’t figured that out. He went right on laboring under the delusion that he amounted to something. “For God’s sake, Jake!” he burst out now. “What the hell did you go and rile the Supreme Court for?” A Texas twang filled his voice. “They’ll throw out the river bill for sure on account of that, just so as they can get their own back at you.”
    “Gosh, Willy, do you think so?” Jake sounded concerned. He watched Koenig hide a smile.
    Willy Knight, full of himself as usual, never noticed. “Think so? I’m sure of it. You did everything but wave a red cloth in their face.”
    Featherston shrugged. “It’s done now. We’ll just have to make the best of it. It may turn out all right.”
    “How can it?” Knight demanded. “Sure as the sun comes up tomorrow, somebody’s gonna sue. You can already hear the Whigs licking their chops, slobbering over the chance to make us look bad. Whatever district court gets the law’ll say it’s no goddamn good.”
    “Then we’ll take it to the Supreme Court,” Ferdinand Koenig said.
    “They’ll tell you it’s unconstitutional, too, just like that reporter fellow said they would,” Willy Knight predicted. “They’re looking for a chance to pin our ears back. Once they get those black robes on, Supreme Court justices think they’re little tin gods. And there’s not a Freedom Party man among ’em.”
    “I’m not too worried, Willy,” Jake said. “This here’s a popular bill. Not even the Whigs left in Congress voted against it. The country needs it bad. Folks won’t be happy if the court tosses it in the ashcan.”
    “I tell you, those fuckers don’t care,” the vice president insisted. “Why should they? They’re in there for life. . . .” He paused. His blue eyes widened. “Or are you saying they won’t live long if they try and smother this bill?”
    Featherston shook his head. “I didn’t say anything like that. I
won’t
say anything like that. We could get away with it if that damn Grady Calkins hadn’t shot President Wade goddamn Hampton V. Not now. We don’t want to get the name for a pack of lousy murderers.”
We’ve done plenty of murdering on the way up, and we’ll do as much more as we have to, but looks count. The Supreme Court justices aren’t the right targets for stalwarts. We’ve got other ways to deal with them.
    “If I were in your shoes, I’d put the fear of God in those sons of bitches,” Knight insisted.
    Jake Featherston spoke softly, but with unmistakable emphasis: “Willy, you aren’t in my shoes. You try and put yourself in my shoes, you’re just measuring yourself for a coffin. You got that?”
    Knight was not a