Postmortem
© 2025 by Walter Reimer



Anulka-Mei Balakrishnan sat down behind her desk, quietly seething. She had always hated being manipulated and having to follow the instructions given by the unseen operators who were threatening to reveal her possible (hah!) treasonous behavior made her bare her teeth like a feral dog.

Well, many people had called her a bitch. May as well turn the insult back on them and be a bitch.

The Dhole-Akita’s switch from opposing to supporting the increase in military spending had caused a stir among the legislators and some of her fellow ministers, who now felt their positions undermined by the Foreign Minister’s about-face. Balakrishnan was expecting trouble and made certain that her security detail knew it.
Her ears twitched as the intercom chimed. “Yes?” she asked.

“The Trade and Economic Ministers are here, Ma’am,” Marcus said. The musk deer sounded distressed, if the slight increase in his lisp was any indication.

“Send them in, please,” the canine said, and sat back as two mels, a mouse and a feline, stepped into the room and advanced on her desk. “Jorj, Grigor,” she said evenly.

Jorj, the mouse, looked about ready to go over the desk at her. Well, let him try. “What the hell are you up to, Anulka?” the Trade Minister demanded. Beside him, Grigor just glowered at her.

“I had my reasons, Jorj.”

“Reasons,” Grigor spat. “Investments, you mean.”

Anulka sneered, “No more than you – both of you.” She flicked a fingertip against the desktop and a display lit up to show them what she knew about the way they were lining their pockets using inside information. “I don’t plan on telling anything about this, but if pushed I will send this all to Intelligence.” The Intelligence Ministry had a directorate for economic crimes.

The cat and the mouse glanced at each other and Jorj subsided as Grigor asked, “Why? You know better than anyone that this will stir up the Colonies, not to mention the Kashlani.”

“It may – probably will,” the canine nodded, “but we can explain it as part of an economic plan to stimulate certain key industries. True, we’re disarming in accordance with the terms imposed on us by the Kashlani, but we still need to have people working.”

Grigor glared at her as Jorj put a paw to his chin in thought. “That’s a fine line to walk,” the feline said.

“The Colonial Ambassador will have questions,” Anulka said, “but I’ll deal with her. The Kashlani . . . will take more effort, but I think I can allay their fears.”

“You’d better be sure of that,” Jorj said, the mouse’s whiskers quivering.

“Or we’re all in shit up to our necks,” Grigor added.

Anulka kept a straight face. “If that’s all, get out of my office before I have you thrown out.” The two gave her contemptuous looks, but left.

Marcus came in. “Is everything all right, Minister?” the deer asked.

“Not quite,” came the reply. He left at her gesture and as soon as the door was closed the Dhole-Akita sagged in her chair, letting her façade drop and grinding her teeth as her fear rose like bile in her throat.

She found herself hoping that ‘M’ would find the people blackmailing her, and that the roebuck would let her know.