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  “Julian—”

  “And why shouldn’t you think it’s safe?” Julian continued over him. “I mean, look at it!” He swept his hand outward at the interior of the satellite. “It’s so clean, and fresh, and green, and healthy… it’s perfect. It’s a new world, hovering out here, an everlasting haven from the rigors of Earth. At least… it sure looks that way.

  “But people have limited vision. They think that what they see in front of them is everything there is that’s important. And so they act according to what’s happening right in front of them, whether or not that makes sense against the big picture. It’s that thinking that’s created an overpopulated, over-polluted and undernourished planet below us… and even after those problems became obvious, if those things weren’t happening right in front of someone’s nose, they had no trouble ignoring those problems, or even denying that the problems were there.

  “People also have short memories. They don’t learn from past events, from disasters. When an earthquake happens, everybody wails to the skies at how horrible the loss of life and property is. Once it stops, the very next thing people do… is rebuild the same earthquake-prone homes over the same fault-lines. Then they act surprised when the earthquake comes back, and again no one is prepared for the latest loss of life and property.

  “Verdant looks like a stable, healthy environment,” Julian continued. “But that’s only because we work hard to make it look that way. In fact, we are incredibly unstable… we are literally constructed to be dependent on the planet Earth for the bulk of our supplies… the chemicals and raw materials we need to create and sustain life here. None of the satellites are independent! If we stop getting our supplies from Earth, we’ll eventually choke to death… assuming we don’t starve first… or freeze. And those supplies have to be carefully balanced against the number of people contained in the satellite. The more people you have, the shorter period your supplies last. The sooner we choke, or starve, or freeze.”

  Julian pointed a finger at Gordon. “But you don’t see that. The grass is always greener in the other guys’ lawn, and all you see outside is grass. And you, and seven billion others, feel you have a personal right to that grass, no matter what the consequences, because after all, everything looks great, and how bad could things possibly get up here?”

  Throughout Julian’s comments, Gordon sat still and quiet. He watched Julian carefully, taking notice that at no point did Julian raise his voice, gesture animatedly, or pace about like an enraged animal. He was trying to be cool and rational as he explained the situation on Verdant… which, in fact, he just wasn’t buying. Verdant was huge… there was plenty of fresh air… cold water from a chilled tap… they didn’t need for anything. Lenz was cooking up all of this “we are unstable” crap just to scare him. And he was about to say so, when Julian suddenly turned and approached him, leaning forward and putting his face right up into his own. Gordon could feel Julian’s hot breath on his face. He looked mad enough to literally bite Gordon’s nose off, and Gordon pushed back on the sofa cushions as far as he could, to put some space between him and Julian’s fierce visage.

  “If I thought for one minute,” Julian growled menacingly, “that your selfish shenanigans designed to con me into giving you space here was going to result in the loss of just one life already on this satellite… I’d throw you off this balcony with my own two hands, right now.”

  Julian continued to glare at Gordon for another few seconds, before finally straightening up and slowly walking back towards the balcony. Gordon sat there, genuinely rattled for the first time since he’d gotten off the Aztlan. His mouth worked, but he could not think of anything to say to counter Julian’s unexpected attack.

  Julian reached the balcony and turned back to face Gordon, just in time to see him give up on attempting a retort and close his mouth. “Walter, I allowed you to come here for one reason, and one reason only: To straighten out your freight deliveries. But I’m going to tell you this, and I’ll tell you only once… if you can’t straighten out this problem… that’s it. RPI is cut off. Verdant doesn’t need you… there are plenty of other freight companies we can do business with. And we both know exactly how lucrative that business is.

  “Now,” Julian continued, “if you want to keep this very lucrative business relationship going, you will work out your problems up here forthwith. And if you can manage it particularly well, I might even see my way clear to… scratch your back, as well. But I am guaranteeing you nothing, Walter! And if I think for one minute that you’re trying to pull a fast one on me, I’ll put you back on that jet, and pitch it back at Earth, whether it’s flight-worthy or not!”

  Julian drained his glass, and put it down on a side table. Then he started for the door. “You have some unpacking… and some thinking… to do. I’d suggest you not waste any time doing either.” Without a backward glance, Julian walked out the door, leaving it open to the hallway.

  17: Assaults

  12Aug2229

  Julian was awakened about an hour earlier than usual, by the com on his bedstand. It took a moment for him to register the significance of the strange buzzing noise that was keeping him from sleeping, then to find the switch to the com. “Yes?”

  “It’s Reya. You’re needed in CnC, sir.”

  Anytime Reya Luis used the title “sir” when addressing him, he knew, it meant something serious was indeed going on. “Be there as soon as I can.”

  ~

  There was a lot of background noise in CnC when Julian arrived. However, little of it came from the people manning the workstations. Julian could tell that most of it was coming from audio feeds, from multiple sources, all around the room.

  Reya looked up from the workstation she was standing by, when he arrived. With a look, she signaled him to join her. Julian came around to the workstation and stood on the opposite side of the technician seated there. On his board was a video feed that showed a violent clash of forces, large crowds against armed police. A few glances at the background shots confirmed that the feed was coming from inside one of the satellites. “Where is this?”

  “On board Fertile,” Reya replied. “About an hour and a half ago, a ballistic rocket that was supposed to be full of supplies arrived there. Instead, it was stuffed to the gills with people. They overwhelmed the workers in Fertile’s bays and spilled out into the satellite.”

  “They were boarded?” Julian said incredulously. It sounded like something out of an old pirate movie. “Do they know how many?”

  “We’ve heard estimates of anywhere between five hundred and a few thousand,” Reya told him. “Nothing certain. Ceo Khaldun has ordered the boarders to be rounded up, to be sent back to Earth. Police engaged the boarders about an hour ago. I called you when they started firing on them.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Julian muttered.

  “That’s not the worst of it,” Reya said. “Another ballistic approached Qing soon afterward. But someone knew it was full of refugees, Beijing was alerted, and Chang was ordered to repel them. The ballistic was attacked by Qing’s fighters before it docked, and it was forced to de-orbit.”

  Julian saw the rest on Reya’s face. “Oh, no…”

  Reya nodded. “They’d suffered damage from the attack, and they didn’t have enough fuel for a controlled re-entry. It’s just reported by the media to have crash-landed. No chance of survivors.”

  “Holy Mother of God.” Julian took a step back from the workstation, with his eyes still on the rioting on the screen. Then he stepped to another workstation, which showed a media team at the site of the crashed ballistic. It had apparently impacted in a forest, and columns of black smoke rose into the sky, to mix with the reddish ash at the top of the screen. Julian could see emergency crews intent on putting out the fires, but no evidence of life-saving crews. There was obviously no point.

  Abruptly, he said, “What about Tranquil?”

  As he headed for the workstations that monitored activity at the Tranquil satellite, Reya
followed. “Nothing yet. They are at systems normal, level three conservation, just like us. Ah,” she added when they reached the workstation. “This is new.”

  They both examined the data coming through the workstation: Ceo Volov on Tranquil had ordered a full lockdown on all scheduled incoming flights, including ballistics. A short statement that accompanied the data indicated that it was a precautionary measure.

  When Julian saw it, he nodded. “Lock us down too, Reya. No incoming ballistics until further notice, effective immediately. No flights at all, including outgoing.”

  “Baldur,” Reya called out to one of the workstation technicians, who immediately began to issue the order. Reya turned back to Julian. “What about anything already out there?”

  Julian considered only a moment. “Scramble three squads. We’ll do a field check of anything on its way up. If not satisfied, it gets de-orbited. Send that info to the ground, immediately.”

  Julian started to move away, to check another workstation, when Reya said, “I can’t believe it’s come to this.”

  Julian turned. “Afraid we don’t get the reality where they politely ask to invade.”

  ~

  “Are they kidding?” Lem Carter goggled at his communications officer, who had pulled him aside and out of earshot of the passengers that were already aboard the passenger liner Lincoln. “Tell me they’re kidding. We’re supposed to leave in less than two hours, Ricky!”

  “They’re not kidding, Captain,” Enrique Valentino shrugged. He handed the datapad over, with the message still on its display. “The order just came from CnC. Everything’s grounded, incoming and outgoing, until further notice.”

  “Sweet Jesus,” Lem spat, but softly, so as not to alert any nearby passengers, and glanced around the blended-winged liner’s deck with a practiced air of calm. Some of them had come on board early, in order to settle into their coaches. A modern passenger liner coach could be as comfortable, though obviously not as large, as many of the simpler hotels and hostels on Verdant, and passengers often liked to come in early to beat the crowds, and take a nap, or break out some of their working or entertainment gear. Enrique had caught up to Lem on deck two, where he had been checking up on the final adjustments to a coach wallscreen that had been due for replacement, and had finally shown up the day before. A few of the passengers had also been watching the work on the screen, people often being fascinated by watching other people work, and Lem had been engaged in casual conversation with some of them when Enrique had arrived.

  Now, in the corridor between coaches, Lem’s eyes searched the bulkheads, as if hoping to find an answer scrawled somewhere on the walls. Then he handed the datapad back to Enrique and put his hands on his hips. “Fine,” he sighed. “You call Global and inform them we’re locked down. After you’re done with Global, send out a general textcast to everyone on our passenger list. Inform them that our scheduled flight has been cancelled due to… uh… complications caused by the Yellowstone Caldera. While you’re doing that, I’ll inform the passengers that are here.”

  “Yessir,” Enrique nodded, and headed back for the communications hub of the Lincoln.

  Lem, in turn, headed back to the bridge, muttering, “Something tells me this day is not going to go well.”

  ~

  Calvin was awakened about an hour earlier than usual, by his wife. Erin had poked her head into the master bedroom and awakened Maria, who in turn awoke Calvin.

  “You guys have to hear the news,” Erin was saying. “There’s fighting and shooting on Fertile, and Qing forced an incoming ship full of refugees to return to Earth, where they crashed!”

  “What!” Calvin was awake instantly. “Fighting…” He stumbled out of bed, almost tripping over the blanket and sprawling across the floor.

  “Honey, slow down!” Maria cautioned him. Then, to Erin, “Have they said anything about Verdant?”

  “Well, nothing about fighting,” Erin replied. “But they’ve suspended all air traffic until further notice. I guess so no ships full of refugees can get in.”

  “What about Tranquil?” Calvin asked, grabbing a pair of trousers, and some fresh underwear, and heading for the bathroom.

  “Same as Verdant, I think,” Erin replied.

  “Good…” Calvin was thinking furiously as he dressed, half-considering the urge to shave, and dismissing it as quickly. The research and calculations he’d obtained regarding the laser-spiked defensive field (not quite a “force field,” even he had to admit, but as close as anyone was likely to get), with Valeria and Leon’s help, had gotten off to a good start, but still needed a lot of development. Unfortunately, now it sounded like they may be out of time, and Calvin did not want to have to approach Ceo Lenz when it was all over, only then to present him with what might turn out to be a defensive solution. Finished or not, he had to tell him now.

  He realized at that moment that Maria had appeared in the bathroom doorway. “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “Have to go to CnC,” Calvin told her. “And tell Lenz about the defensive field—”

  “I don’t think you should go,” Maria said quickly. “What if people come aboard Verdant they way they did on Fertile? What if there’s fighting?”

  “CnC has suspended traffic,” Calvin replied. “No one can get in.”

  “Well… what if they force their way aboard? What if they’re armed?”

  “Then we have bigger problems than I can handle,” Calvin said grimly. “Where’s my case?”

  He charged out of the bedroom, past his wife and his wide-eyed daughter. Erin watched him as he darted into the study, then turned back to Maria. “Mom?”

  “It’s okay, baby,” Maria said, just as Calvin came out of the study.

  “Don’t worry… Verdant is still safe!” he called back to them. “I’ll be back as soon as I can!”

  “Daddy—”

  “Don’t worry! I’ll see you soon!” Calvin whipped the door open, and pulled it shut as he ran out. After a moment, Maria moved forward and locked the door.

  Then she turned to her daughter. “Let’s see what else the news says.”

  ~

  Hunter and Goldie were the third and fourth of the Wasps that dropped out of the Verdant’s bays, followed not long afterward by two more. The first two were already angling sunward, to take up their defensive positions along the trailing side of Verdant’s orbit. The last two would be moving to the leading side of Verdant’s orbit. Hunter and Goldie headed Earthward, to stand between the planet and Verdant.

  “Judging by my scanners,” Goldie announced, “it looks like Tranquil has also deployed Wasps.”

  “Good thing for them,” Hunter stated. “Probably the only thing that will keep us both from getting boarded so easily. But it won’t last.”

  Goldie looked over her shoulder, as if she could see her partner in his Wasp. “You really think we’ll end up in a shooting match up here?”

  “I can’t see how we won’t,” Hunter replied. “Sooner or later, they’re gonna decide that they want to be up here. And sooner or later, they’re gonna figure out that the only way to do it will be to take us out. That means fighter escorts. That means a shooting match.”

  Goldie did not respond. She knew that, in a one-on-one match, the Wasp crews would have the distinct advantage of familiarity with orbital combat in orbit-optimized fighters that the ground-based pilots would lack. Still, that didn’t mean she expected they’d have no losses. And there was no reason to expect the ground to send only enough fighters for one-on-one matching.

  Instead, she examined her scanners. “I read no incoming traffic,” she said.

  Hunter nodded. “Let’s hope it stays that way, then.”

  “Check that,” Goldie said suddenly, as she was resetting her scanners to view a wider area. “I have a Nautilus inbound for Verdant. It’s coming down from outer orbit, though.”

  “Double-check their ID,” Hunter said, switching his scanners as well. “Tronic and verbal.�
� He saw the short-range ship on his monitors, too, and his data included a broadcast registry code that indicated it had come from Verdant. He got busy querying Verdant for flight data, while over the com Goldie challenged the ship verbally.

  They both heard the response. “This is Naut-vee-three-six, pilot Lexy Carras, ident UNAF-449437245 assigned to Verdant satellite. Our flight is on the schedule for this morning.”

  “I confirm pilot identity,” Goldie said over the com.

  “And I confirm the assignment,” Hunter stated. “Proceed straight to the bays, Naut-vee-three-six… do not stop for sightseeing. Confirm.”

  “Confirmed,” came the reply. “Have a good shift.”

  “If I don’t have to shoot at anybody,” Hunter commented drily.

  As the Nautilus proceeded for the docking bays, Goldie examined its heading, and used her scanners to backtrack it. After a moment, she said, “Hunter, Lexy just took that tug out to the same heading we used to drop off and pick up that test-bed the other day.”

  “Another test? What about it?”

  “I just scanned back on Lexy’s projected return course. I don’t see any sign of a test-bed up there.”

  “So she’s coming back with it,” Hunter suggested.

  “Not according to my scans. They indicate the Naut wasn’t carrying.”

  Hunter considered a moment. Then he changed his frequency. “Control: Wasp three requesting verbal confirmation of scheduled run of Naut-vee-three-six. What is its payload and mission?”

  There was a perceptible delay before the response came in. “Wasp three, Control: Naut-vee-three-six’s mission is classified com silence. Do not discuss over the air.”

  “Control, Wasp three requests override, code two priority.” Code two was a suspicion of a military threat.

  “Hunter—” Goldie started, but Control came back on the line.

  “Request denied, Wasp three. Naut-vee-three-six is in sight of the bay, and systems are nominal.”

  That was supposed to mean that someone at the bay could see the tug, and was declaring that there was nothing visually unusual about it. That would include a payload in its arms that wasn’t supposed to be there, or a missing payload where one was expected. Hunter imagined a number of possibilities: The Nautilus was returning with the right payload, and Goldie’s scanners hadn’t picked it up; it was returning with a dummy payload; or it had no payload, and somehow Goldie’s scanners couldn’t pick up the payload it had dropped off. It was a bit of a mystery… but Hunter wasn’t really getting the vibe that it was a threat. And after the last few days of reprimands and lousy assignments, he decided finally not to press his luck.