The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798278914952: Books
Alien politics is not dissimilar to human politics:
Beheggakegri was trying to sleep. His great mass meant for some degree of difficulty in changing position in order to get comfortable. Even with the antigrav turned up full there were problems in turning over, his internal organs had to rearrange themselves in his blubber. But at least his insomnia provided opportunities to think and plan.
There was some quirk in Beheggakegri’s personality that meant that he simply could not stand being opposed or thwarted. It appeared to him that the committee were doing just that. A cold wave spread over his body as he realised the implications of this. Beheggakegri was a politician. He’d been in office long enough to know how things worked. Once your hold weakened the drop was inevitable. They were plotting.
All thoughts of sleep left his head. He rolled on to his back and peered sightlessly into the gloom. If he’d gone back in time the committee would never have questioned a single thing he’d come up with. He barked; they performed. Just how he liked it. It wasn’t like that now. A chill ran through him. He was certain that they were plotting. They wanted to oust him.
Throughout this whole Chameakegra/Boogham episode they had opposed him. It was a complete litany of what came across as differences of opinion, circumstance and bad luck. But was that it? Or was it something more sinister? Were the committee actually looking to depose him?
His mind wondered back to the beginning. Appointing that Chameakegra for the assessment. Sang knew exactly how he felt about Commander drangling Chameakegra; he’d pushed her out to the periphery where he didn’t have to keep being aware of the nuisance. Yet, the minute his back was turned, Sang had appointed her to do this high profile assessment. Beheggakegri felt his scutes whitening.
Then the same thing happened with that drangling Judge. Booghramakegra wasn’t on his list. He’d given Sang clear instructions on who to appoint. He’d been ignored. Sang had come up with excuses about availability, rules and regulations. It had all sounded lame at the time. He remembered telling Sang that rules were meant to be broken, that as Head of UFOR he had the power to appoint who he wanted and usurp the regulations. Sang had taken no notice. They’d ended up with Chameakegra and Booghramakegra uniting to deliberately thwart him.
Beheggakegri brooded, the thoughts of intrigue and conspiracy kept racing through his mind as multitudes of colours flowed through his armour.
Beheggakegri really did not care a jot about the drangling Hydrans. They were inconsequential. That wasn’t the point. Everybody could see that they were a bunch of pusillanimous psychotic apes, space vermin, who were ripe for extermination – obvious to an imbecile. There was no room in the Federation for such a violent, volatile, capricious, avaricious, power-seeking bunch of destructive aliens. Under normal circumstances there would not even have been a discussion. They wouldn’t have bothered with a full assessment. So why had they gone ahead? It did not make sense. Unless the committee were doing it to get at him.
The more Beheggakegri mulled it over the worse it seemed. When he’d first brought it up with the committee, expecting compliance, he’d been knocked back. Now, with all the graphic violent evidence, the whole committee had opposed him.
He was beginning to smell a deceased rujid. This wasn’t a simple case of circumstance and poor judgement; he was being set up. Sang and the whole drangling committee had turned on him. This was already a full-blooded coup. They were after ousting him. He knew it.
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