Deathstalker 04 - Deathstalker Honor

down from any other aristo. “Everyone has a right to stand for Parliament,” Grace said primly.
    “A democratic right. Isn’t that one of the things you claimed to be fighting for, sir Deathstalker, that everyone should be treated equally? Ex-aristocrats have as much a right to be heard as anyone else.
    After all, you yourself were once a Lord. Are you saying you should be banned too, your voice no longer heard? You are not the only member of a Family to understand the concepts of redemption and atonement.”
    Owen scowled. “I could have taken power. I chose not to.” “How very… noble of you. But who is to say you might not change your mind in the future? I really cannot see what all the fuss is about. We are talking about free elections, taking place under safeguards you yourself helped to set up, with people voting according to their own consciences. If some of them choose to place their trust in a member of a Family to represent them in Parliament, that is their business and no one else’s.”
    “It’s not as simple as that, and you know it.” Diana Vertue glared across the floor of the House at Grace
    Shreck, who smiled condescendingly back. Diana’s scowl deepened, but she kept her temper under control. “The espers will not again place themselves under the power of those who once treated them as property. Who mistreated, abused, and murdered them at will.” “The excesses of the past are deeply regretted,” said Grace calmly. “All the Families understand they have to prove their worth and place in the new order, and none of us are foolish enough to risk that place by resuming old and discredited practices. We must all learn to look to the future. The Families have much to offer. Everyone here understands the terrible events in your past, esper Vertue, that left you physically and mentally scarred, but we cannot allow one woman’s obsessions to stand in the way of progress.” Diana clung grimly to her self-control. This wasn’t the first time Grace had sought to undermine her arguments by referring to her past as Jenny Psycho, when her mental stability had been… somewhat changeable. She couldn’t respond to the accusation directly (All right, I was crazy then, but I’m better now didn’t exactly inspire confidence), so as always she ignored the insult and bulled on regardless.
    “The espers will never bow down to aristos again. We broke free of our chains through blood and suffering and the sacrifice of many; we will not be shackled again.”
    “Pretty rhetoric,” said Grace, “but essentially meaningless. This talk of masters and slaves is from the past; let it stay buried there. The rest of us have moved on. And, as I have pointed out in this House before, I dispute your claim to speak for all espers. You distanced yourself from the official underground leadership when you began speaking openly of your distrust of the Mater Mundi, and your following among the rank and file is not what it was. You speak only for yourself these days, esper Vertue.” “Then let’s talk about Blue Block,” said Finlay Campbell, and everyone’s head snapped around to look at him.
    Finlay didn’t often speak out in Parliament, but when he did everybody listened. The floating cameras overhead rushed to zoom in on him. Finlay smiled coldly across at BB Chojiro and her people. “How can we trust the Families when most of them are still under the influence of a once secret organization, Blue Block? Their motivations, like their background, remain largely unknown.”
    BB Chojiro stepped forward, her voice rising sweetly in the quiet. “The fact that we are no longer secret should put an end to most of those fears. Yes, in the past we were created to be the Clans’ personal assassins, deadly agents to be aimed at their enemies, but we have evolved beyond that. And you, of all people, have no right to criticize us. How much blood is there on your hands, sir Campbell? How many died under your blade?”
    “Not enough, apparently,” said Finlay, and everyone shuddered just a little at the bleakness in his voice.
    “I think we’ve taken this argument as far as we can go for the moment,” said Gutman. “Let us move on, please. We have a holomessage from her Holiness, Mother Superior Beatrice Christiana. She is too busy overseeing relief work on Lachrymae Christi to speak to us in person, but she recorded this message for us earlier.”
    He gave a sign, and a viewscreen appeared floating in