New Title 1 Read online

  She set three research nodes in action before her, two of which, there for the benefit of her many onlookers, were related to her studies for the President, and intended to draw the most attention. The third, displayed as an innocuous table in the near corner, was a trace of research being carried out in the science section related to supplies and deliveries. She looked for names, dates, resources, anything that might be connected to such a search, but in fact, she wasn’t sure she’d know what she was looking for if it came up out of the workstation and bit her. There was an automation study that had the theoretical mathematics department busy. There were numerous equipment requisitions—Kris had heard Aaron mention equipment, but without specifics—though they seemed to be for everything under the sun except something that might conceivably carry freight. She registered the fact that most of the entries she encountered listed Dr. Jacqueline Silver as its research head, but then, so did most of the research projects in the science section that she could see. That made sense, as Dr. Silver was the head of the department, and obviously wanted research projects kept under her close supervision. But for the life of her, Kris couldn’t see anything in there. She finally made a copy of the data on a private chip, with the intention of having someone at the Presidential compound examine it later.

  So intent was she on copying and concealing her chip that she almost didn’t notice someone appear alongside her. She looked up, perhaps too quickly, to find Julian Lenz standing next to her.

  Julian reacted to her surprise. “Oh, sorry… didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Kris responded by smiling and shaking her head. “Oh, that’s all right! I didn’t realize how absorbed I’d gotten in all this data.”

  Julian glanced over the open documents filling the workstation, and smiled. “You should get out more.” Kris chuckled lightly, just an exhalation through her nose, really, but it conveyed the desired effect. Julian was pleased to see that his joke had gone over. He leaned closer to see her data. “Looking for anything in particular?”

  “Some areas where there might be room for negotiation between your offices and ours,” Kris told him.

  “Ah,” Julian nodded and glanced away, but he did not give her the impression of being bothered by her assignment, or her admission. After a moment’s pause, he added: “Having any luck?”

  Kris stopped and looked up at the Ceo. That was probably the last thing she expected to hear him say… well, maybe second-to-last, after, “Sure, here’s one you missed.” Was he that confident in their situation? Or just underestimating her ability to find anything?

  Julian finally looked down at Kris and smiled. “I realize this is a bit awkward,” he said kindly. “However, we really are all on the same side. Believe me, Verdant wants the United States to thrive as much as we want to thrive. We all have to work together.”

  “In order to all live together,” Kris stated. “You’re right, of course: We’d all do better to be less adversarial in our negotiations.”

  “Discussions,” Julian stated. “I believe we’re still in the ‘discussions’ stage.”

  Kris was taken slightly aback by Julian’s correction, and despite herself, her smile faded. “Of course. Excuse me.”

  Julian shook his head. “No… excuse me. After what I just said, I didn’t mean to be so blunt.” He scratched his neck self-consciously, and shrugged. “Fact is, I’d welcome any areas where we can find useful common ground. Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure immigration quotas won’t be that ground.”

  “Yes,” Kris said, thinking furiously over what to say. “Maybe we have to consider that subject the… the opening serve of the match.” She immediately reconsidered. “No…”

  “Because that would imply a fault,” Julian finished for her.

  “Then… the opening gambit of our first hand,” Kris suggested.

  “Better,” Julian nodded after a moment. “Win or lose, we still have the rest of the game ahead of us.”

  “Exactly.” Kris smiled at his response, and Julian found himself smiling back. She had a way about her, an aura of confidence, which was hard not to acknowledge, or respond to. Julian had the distinct feeling that he would enjoy anything that would coax that smile from her, and especially if it was directed at him—

  At that moment, Julian realized that he had been lingering on her face for a split-second longer than propriety allowed. He blinked and looked a few degrees aside, not wanting to be too obvious about the fact that he was purposely averting his gaze from her.

  Kris saw his delayed reaction, and immediately suspected she had made a connection… but the shift of his eyes suggested he was either dismissing it, or being shy about it… she was not sure. She decided to prod him with a single word: “What?”

  Julian glanced back at her, his eyes forthright but still unreadable, and he smiled slightly. “Nothing… you just reminded me of someone I used to know.”

  Kris studied him closely… this man is so hard to read. “Who?”

  “I’ll tell you some other time,” Julian replied, casually, as if it was merely something he didn’t want to discuss in the openness of the CnC. Kris was relatively sure he was dodging the subject, but before she could push her advantage, he turned and stepped away. She watched him go for a moment, considering the difficulty she’d experienced in trying to read him, and whether there was a significance to that… before taking notice of other staffers noticing her watching him… and she dropped her eyes back to her displays.

  Julian moved casually to one of the weather workstations and examined a GOAA projection map. In fact, he was barely looking at it… he just needed the excuse to distance himself from Kris Fawkes. She was working for the United States government for the sole purpose of finding a way to take the upper hand with Verdant… despite his casual banter with her, he knew that. And more, she was an entrancing woman, and she had already proven her willingness to use her wiles on Aaron Hardy. Julian was simply not interested in being her next professional conquest.

  “Hmm. Still raining in Kilimanjaro.”

  Julian turned. He hadn’t seen Reya come up beside him… well, actually, she had come up from behind him. Inwardly, he sighed. He knew what was coming. “Yes, but it will probably let up tomorrow.”

  “That Miss Fawkes seems friendly towards you,” Reya said innocently.

  Julian nodded. “She’s very professional. Easy to work with.”

  “You should pump her.”

  Julian’s head spun around so fast, he felt his neck crack.

  Reya looked up at him mock-innocently. “For information.” She smiled briefly, exaggeratingly, then said, “What?”

  “Smart ass,” Julian finally said, looking back down at the display. But he could not keep the smile from his face.

  Reya watched him as he continued to pretend to read the display, barely suppressing her own mirth. Finally, she gathered enough composure to say, “What are you thinking about now?”

  “Making you walk the next orbit,” Julian said.

  Across the room, Kris wondered what the Ceo and his Eo were laughing at.

  Her attention soon shifted, however, to a commotion on the other side of the room. Various of the staffers at their workstations had become agitated. Julian and Reya picked up on the commotion in a few moments, and headed over to that side of CnC, their smiles slowly dissolving from their faces as they neared the workstations.

  “What is it, Paul?” Julian said as he neared the closest of the stations.

  “We’re getting reports of riots on Qing,” the staffer reported. He indicated his workstation, and various screens which showed scenes of crowds rushing about, altercations going on in enclosed spaces, and running text feeds of goings-on, some in Chinese with GLIS-supplied English translations. “Sounds like an altercation between security and residents that were being forcibly removed from their homes.”

  “Removed?” Reya repeated. “To be put where?”

  “Don’t know,” Paul told her. “I can’t get any offic
ial feeds. But there’s a lot of encrypted chatter between Qing and Beijing. And I can’t get exact numbers, but I think at least half a dozen ships are inbound to Qing from China.”

  “Ay, Madre,” Reya said. “They’re going to stuff the place with party members. Or refugees.”

  At this point, other staffers not involved with those stations began to stare, and the volume of chatter halted everywhere but at the workstations that were in communication with the other satellites. Kris had also stopped working, and watched them silently from her workstation.

  Paul was continuing, as he examined the multiple feeds on his workstation. “The residents are protesting being displaced, and they’re… they’re demanding, looks like, to send the incoming ships back. Here,” he said, pointing at a text feed, “this scientist is stating that Qing cannot handle the influx of—”

  He suddenly stopped speaking. The text feed had gone black, taking Paul by surprise, and he stared at it stupidly. Reya, also looking at the screen, said, “What happened to the feed?”

  “Cut off,” Julian said. “Probably by Chang.” Hirohito Chang was the Ceo of Qing. He had been essentially installed there by the Chinese government when they’d built Qing, independently of the U.N. But Chang knew the limitations of Qing as well as the other satellite Ceos did… he knew that he had already exceeded them, in fact, and that conditions on Qing had been deteriorating as a result. Julian could not help but wonder how Chang felt, knowing that by allowing Beijing to call the shots, he could be presiding over the final ruination of his satellite.

  Then one of the video feeds cut off, followed by another text feed, then another video feed… and abruptly, all of the rest went down at once. “Get them back!” Julian barked, and Paul’s hands flew over his workstation, but the feeds remained dark.

  “Sir!” came a cry from another workstation, a girl with a distinct French accent whose name was Eve. Julian and Reya instantly turned towards Eve’s workstation. “There are demonstrations happening on Fertile.”

  Julian and Reya moved in that direction. Reya asked, “How bad?”

  “Nothing violent, as far as I can tell,” Eve reported. “But it sounds like it’s getting ugly. There’s a lot of talk about demands from Earth to open themselves up to accept refugees. Apparently the A.U. is demanding access.”

  “Africa?” Reya goggled. “What a bunch of panicky… the serious levels of ash haven’t gotten anywhere near them yet!”

  “But they will,” Julian pointed out, “and they know it.”

  “Here,” Eve pointed to a text feed. “If this is actually from the A.U., they’re threatening military action if they are not allowed access…”

  “What the Hell’s going on?” Reya protested.

  “This is getting out of hand fast,” Julian muttered. “China must be spooking them. Not to mention all the doom-and-gloom scientists.” He looked over to another workstation. “Dana: Any word from Tranquil?”

  “Uh,” Dana started. She was obviously busy reading multiple feeds. “Uh, no riots or anything, but…” Her voice faded as she read her screens.

  “But what?” Reya strode over to Dana’s workstation, while Julian continued to examine the feeds from Fertile. Fertile was still considered a U.N. satellite, but as it was primarily financed by Middle Eastern Muslims in exchange for majority control, Fertile acted as an almost-independent entity. There was no telling how they might react to African threats, or if they had the ability to do anything about it…

  “Julian,” Reya got the Ceo’s attention. She indicated multiple feeds on Dana’s workstation, as Dana looked to Reya, her face a mask of shock. “Statements from RPI to Tranquil,” Reya said. She started to recite what was on the screen: “Due to the increasing sensitivity of freight activities caused by the current geologic crisis, and the political—”

  Then Reya stopped, read a moment silently, and finally looked up at Julian. “RPI is refusing to send ballistic freight deliveries to Tranquil.”

  Another staffer voiced what everyone else was thinking. “They’re cutting them off?”

  Julian’s mouth fell open, and he and Reya stared at each other across the room. CnC went silent, the only noises coming from a few low-volume audio feeds and the background chirps and beeps of the room’s workstation electronics. Kris watched the tableau unfold from her workstation, almost afraid to move, her eyes slowly widening as she looked from Julian to Reya, to the rest of the CnC staffers, and the awful implications of that message set in.

  Then, slowly, Julian turned to another workstation. “Hadj, do we have any incoming messages from RPI?”

  The young Indian at the workstation looked up from his board. His eyes were wide. “Sir… we have the same message incoming.”

  CnC was stunned into silence. Julian immediately surveyed the room and spoke up authoritatively. “All right, everyone, relax. We all know that, even in the event of a complete cutoff, it will be a minimum of five months before any of our supplies go critical. Tim,” he nodded at a staffer at another workstation, “we’re going to level three conservation restrictions. Get the word out.”

  Then Julian turned to Hadj. “Send a priority message to RPI, demanding a conference.”

  Hadj worked over his console for perhaps twenty seconds, then turned to look at Julian. “They are not responding to calls.”

  “Chickenshit bastards,” Reya muttered.

  Julian glared at Hadj’s workstation for a moment… then his head swiveled about, and found Kris, still seated at her workstation. He started for her, barely concealed anger roiling behind his eyes. Kris, partly in a desire to present a show of confidence, and partly out of a desire to run, stood up to meet Julian before he reached her. To his unspoken question, Kris said, “I’m pretty sure the President had nothing to do with this.”

  Julian finally reached her, and stood glaring down at her. She hadn’t realized before how much taller Julian was than she. And imposing. She involuntarily caught her breath and fought the urge to gulp it back.

  A rumble finally emanated from Julian’s throat. “Well, we’d better find out what he thinks about it… and if there’s anything he can do.”

  11: Embargo

  10Aug2229

  Verdant, like all of the orbital satellite habitats, had multiple access and egress point for its service ships, freighters and patrol craft to use, depending on the craft, its job, and the needs of the handling systems. Although most of the largest ships, such as the Cetacean and Theropod classes, generally docked in the hub area on the southern end of Verdant, where they could take advantage of microgravity to transfer their massive cargos, many of the smaller freighters and ships docked in the outer bays, allowing ease of access under gravity.

  Verdant, of course, rotated to maintain gravity within, which could have made it difficult for ships to dock into rotating bays on its skin. Therefore, the satellites were equipped with capture armatures that rode on tracks on the outside of the satellite, moving in counter-rotation, so as to provide a non-moving target for smaller ships to dock to. Once the ship was in position, the armatures would capture the ship, then slowly accelerate to begin to alter their rate of travel, to start the ship moving along the satellite’s skin. Eventually, the armature would roll around to a reception bay, which would open and receive the armature and the captured ship. Once the ship was in the bay, the armature would stop its travel, and the ship would be under a full gravity. The bay could then be closed underneath all but the largest such ships, acting as a floor and airlock to allow easy access. Launch was the opposite of this process, though frequently with one exception: The armature could simply release the ship, and allow centrifugal force to ease the ship out of the bay.

  One such bay was about to perform this operation, with a Nautilus class tug. The Nautilus class was a vessel designed to be operated by two to three persons, and it came equipped with an impressive set of multifunctional arms and articulated equipment mounted just under its nose. It was designed to ferry small objects
about in the local area, perform orbital repairs, and guide larger ships to their docking positions if need be. In this particular case, the Nautilus had a payload, about a meter in diameter, secured to one of its arms and cradled with another, waiting to be deployed.

  The pilots waiting within the Nautilus were likewise waiting to be given clearance to launch. They sat in the cockpit, one of them relaxed and calm, the other impatient, his leg bouncing off of his heel as if keeping tune to a driving rhythm.

  “Are they going to let us go, or what? Jesus Christ, what’s taking so long?”

  “Hunter, give it a rest, willya?” Goldie sighed a long-suffering sigh and rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “It’s not as if you have something else you need to do… is it?”

  “That’s beside the point,” Hunter grumbled. “They’re doing this just to screw with us. They’re having some fun with the guys who got chewed out by Luis…”

  “Well, let that be a lesson to you. Next time, don’t do anything that will get you chewed out by Luis.”

  “I was doing my job!—”

  “Oh, shut up. Before I put in my request to transfer the Hell away from you once and for all.”

  At that, Hunter grinned snidely. “And go where? Do what? You want to fly a freighter? Oop, sorry, no one’s flying freighters now!”

  “I’d fly one straight into Yellowstone if it meant I didn’t have to listen to this—”

  “Control to Naut-vee-four-three,” came a voice over their com. “Flight has been cleared. Stand by for auto drop in fifteen seconds.”

  “Thank you, Control,” Goldie responded. “Engines are hot. Waiting for your drop.” Hunter started to speak, but a cold look from Goldie convinced him to stay quiet this time. They both watched their control boards as a clock counted down, accompanied by a subtle beep upon each second. When the clock reached zero, there was an audible clunk from above them, the action of the armatures opening up and releasing them, and Hunter and Goldie experienced freefall as the tug dropped out of the bay.