New Title 1 (43 page)

Finally, everyone sat down, Julian and Lambert at opposite ends of the table… already an unfortunate and adversarial beginning to the conversation, but at this stage, considered to be the most effective way to get things started.

“Thank you for coming, Mister President,” Julian started as they settled in. “Let me begin by making it clear why we are here. This meeting is not about discussing terms of conflict between us. Rather, we want to discuss the details of returning Americans, as well as other citizens of Earth currently on Verdant, to their homes, and recovering our citizens presently on Earth.”

“Are Americans to be considered political refugees, then? To be shipped off when it’s inconvenient to have us around?” Lambert asked.

“Not at all,” Julian stated. “We are simply giving them a free trip home during our present emergency. We don’t want to see them inconvenienced by our situation any more than they have to be.”

“So, sending Americans home is doing them a favor,” Thompson stated wryly.

Julian shrugged. “I suppose, given the current situation at home, that we’re not doing them any favors. However, we are acting in accordance with international law. According to our U.N. charter, we are bound to provide outgoing transportation to all visitors and visiting officials when conditions aboard the satellite threaten their safety.”

“With all due respect,” Thompson said, “things don’t look so dangerous around here.”

“We are currently orbiting a planet that is not Earth,” Julian pointed out needlessly. “That means our usual supply lines, the materials we need to survive, are for the moment severed. We are presently operating at level three restrictions, and until we return to Earth, we may need to move to level two restrictions soon.”

“And there aren’t too many levels beyond that,” Reya added.

“The point is,” Julian continued, throwing his executive officer a cooling look, “just because we’re all calmly sitting here, that doesn’t mean our situation isn’t serious.”

“You did suggest,” Lambert said, “that you can return this satellite to Earth orbit.”

“Yes, I did, and we can,” Julian nodded. He glanced at Dr. Silver, who did not contradict him. “However, I’m hesitant to do so unless I have a reasonable assurance that we will not be attacked when we get back. I’m sure you understand my position.”

Lambert asked, “What are you proposing?”

“To begin with,” Julian replied, “a simple show of good faith. The very first thing we will do will be to return the leader of the United States, his staff, and all American citizens, to their country… plus any residents of other countries that there is room for, on that first flight.”

“Flight?” Thompson interrupted.

“We’re preparing a ship,” Dr. Silver responded at once. “It will take everyone back to Earth, while Verdant stays here.”

Julian nodded to Lambert. “Once we’ve demonstrated that we have no interest in keeping Earth’s citizens here against their will, as political hostages, we’ll use that good faith demonstration to ask the U.N. for protection from an aggressor state.”

“But,” Kris spoke up, “we’re already getting off of the essential subject: The transfer.”

“Quite right, thank you,” Julian nodded to Kris, and pointedly ignored the look he saw in Aaron’s eyes. “Politics aside, this is about getting you all home.”

On cue, Reya lifted her datapad. “We’ve selected the freighter
Makalu
, in bay fifteen-west-A. It’s a Fargo-class freighter, fairly new and in excellent condition, and designed for variable cargo configurations. We plan to retrofit it with temporary seating for three hundred in its two forward bays. That, in addition for its existing seating capacity for twenty, in addition to its crew, is enough to get every American and most other Earth citizens on that first flight home.”

“You’re taking that ship?” Thompson asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Julian replied. “It’s owned by the Lusterne Corporation, an organization with which we’ve had a profitable past relationship… and as it so happens, its owner, Walter Gordon, is aboard. We’re in negotiations right now to provide mutually-agreeable compensation for his ship. Gordon is naturally upset about our commandeering his vessel, but these are the steps we had to take under the circumstances. As it is, we’re sure our compensation, plus his own insurance, will cover him.”

“That’s crazy,” Thompson complained. “We have Aerospace Force One here! We have passenger liners here! Why can’t we retrofit one of those?”

“Mainly,” Julian replied, “because we want to have it return with cargo, and it will be less work to fit it with temporary seating, than to rip out the bulkheads after the first leg to provide cargo space. And Aerospace Force One is simply too small to bring that many people back.”

Julian glanced at Reya, who continued. “We’ll send a message to Earth when we have a schedule set, giving them time to respond with alternate flight plans or course corrections, then again a few minutes before the ship is ready to leave. We’ll wait out the approximately fifteen minutes it will take for our message to get to Earth, add a minute or two, then jump back to Earth.”

“Jump?” Lambert repeated. “What does that mean? How does the process work? What will it be like on the passengers?”

Julian glanced over to Dr. Rios, who so far had shown no inclination to contribute to the conversation. He knew that his wife had returned home from the hospital, and from what Rios had told him, had suffered no ill-effects from her “irregular heart incident.” But Rios had been distant and distracted all morning, and Julian suspected his wife’s state was still heavy on his mind.

In the meantime, Dr. Silver addressed Lambert’s question. “In response to what it will be like, keep in mind that we’ve already done it once, and no one even realized it happened. There are no ill-effects caused by the process.” She pointedly stopped there, and turned to Julian.

“As far as the process itself,” Julian picked up, “I’m sure you’ll understand that we’re keeping that to ourselves at the moment, in the interest of self-protection.” Lambert and Thompson exchanged unhappy glances, but said nothing. “However, we are actively considering making the system available to other countries, in one form or another, down the line.”

Thompson immediately perked up. “You’re going to sell the process?”

“We haven’t decided on the particulars yet,” Julian told him. “There are a number of options that we’re evaluating. For now… consider it a bargaining chip, commensurate on a show of good faith to us.”

“I see,” Lambert nodded.

Reya lifted her datapad again. “We’ll be sending out messages to all visitors who will be assigned to the ship. We want to have your signatures accompany ours, so everyone is aware that this is a collaborative effort. And in order to put people’s minds at-ease, we’ll make sure we mention that you, Mister President, will be flying with them.”

Lambert seemed to bristle at her remark, though he did not say anything. Thompson, on the other hand, snorted his derision. “Doesn’t matter if you tell them you’ll have naked stewardesses aboard. Most of them won’t want to leave. Are you prepared to arrest non-Verdant citizens and force them onto the ship?”

“Frankly, yes,” Julian replied. “Especially after you issue a presidential order to all American citizens, and we explain why this is required.”

“You are assuming a lot, Ceo,” Lambert stated.

“And you are assuming on our hospitality, and our patience!” Julian snapped back. “Two things that we can no longer afford, thanks to you. Mister President, you and your people are going home, whether you like it or not. Better get used to the idea.”

~

The message went out that afternoon, amidst consternation throughout Verdant: Residents were concerned that those being ordered to leave would retaliate against them; and those being told to leave were concerned that they would not be able to find a way around it.

Many of them attempted pre-emptive strikes, calling the Presidential compound or CnC and pleading their cases. In the case of those who called President Lambert, they were quite often told, “We’re doing everything we can,” but promised nothing. Those who called CnC were told “No” in no uncertain terms. The single exception was a citizen of Turkey who had come to Verdant’s low-gravity hospital ward with a heart-related ailment, and whose doctor provided ample documentation and a recommendation that he not be removed from the low-gravity ward.

Every other non-resident was told they would have to go. Most of them would fit on the freighter’s first trip, including every American aboard Verdant. A few citizens of other countries were told they would be sent back on a subsequent trip, but if they desired to leave sooner, they could make arrangements with any American who expressed a willingness to wait. CnC had no doubt that a non-American wishing to go home would have no trouble finding an American willing to trade places with them.

There was also the issue of taking things with them. Being that the
Makalu
was a freighter, there was room for the luggage of all visitors. However, some had spent considerably more time on Verdant, and had amassed more goods. There was also the matter of the thankfully few non-Verdant businesspeople being told they would have to leave and, fearing their goods would be looted while they were away, subsequently wanted to bring their business property with them. The most significant group, in that case, was the American compound… they refused to leave a stick of furniture behind. Kris Fawkes and her counterpart, Anton Lavary, had sequestered themselves for hours to discuss the situation, and considering the more obvious physical attributes of the both of them, a few outsiders were left wondering exactly which weapons of negotiation they might have been using on each other. But when they finally emerged, neither of them looking as if they’d done anything more than share a coffee, it was clear that Kris had prevailed, leaving the American compound with a weight limit for their property that would just allow them to take their worksystems and databanks with them, and leave everything else for later trips.

Anton Lavary, serene in his defeat, had a brief discussion with Enu Thompson. Afterward, he left CnC visibly shaken. And that turned out to be the last anyone in CnC saw of him.

~

“Are you telling me that I’m supposed to leave this station, and leave Aerospace Force One behind?” Col. Emily Stearns rose up to her full height, which put her over a head higher than Reya Luis, and waved an arm at Aerospace Force One in her bay. Nevertheless, Reya did not shrink back from the enraged officer. “That’s an illegal order! I refuse to leave my ship!”

“You have no choice in the matter, Colonel,” Reya told her calmly, shaking her head in sympathy. “All Americans are being sent home. Unfortunately, we don’t have the means of sending every American ship home yet. So it’s going to have to stay here until we return to Earth… at which time, you’ll be allowed to retrieve it.”

“And when will that be?” Stearns demanded.

“We don’t know yet,” Reya replied. “That will depend on negotiations with the U.N. and other governments, and when it is established that we can return home safely—”

“This is
bullshit!
” Stearns cut her off, and drawing glances from around the bay. “You can’t just commandeer Aerospace Force One! You said yourself, we’re not at war!”

“We’re not ‘commandeering’ anything!” Reya snapped back. “We don’t even want the damned thing!” Stearns’ eyes popped, as if she’d been slapped in the face. “It’s just going to sit there, just like that, until we can return and let you have the damned thing back!”

“That ‘damned thing’,” Stearns retorted, “is one of the most sophisticated and secure craft in the United States’ possession!”

“So lock the door when you get out!” Reya threw out her arm at the craft, and the datapad she gripped in her hand almost flew free. If it had left her hand, Reya realized grimly, it would certainly have struck AF1, and Stearns and her crew would probably have been torn between trying to arrest her, and repairing the paint job. “I don’t care what you do with it… but I can assure you, if you bobby-trap that ship and it harms a single Verdant resident, you will be held accountable! So do what you have to do. End of discussion!”

With that, Reya turned and strode away, heading for the next ship’s Captain she’d have to talk to, and muttering to herself in Spanish: “God help me, if they’re all like this, I’m going to strangle someone
within the hour
…”

Stearns stood there, plainly fuming, prompting the crew and mechanics working around Aerospace Force One to move quietly to other areas of the bay. Then she turned and strode off, headed for the Presidential compound.

~

Aaron Hardy entered CnC and looked about the room, examining the activity at each workstation. Those who knew the organization of CnC well enough eventually reached a point where they could take note of which workstations indicated the most activity, put the combinations together, and come to a reasonably accurate guess as to what was going on in Verdant. After sweeping the room, he stepped over to Julian, who was hovering over one of the stations. Kris was nearby, at another workstation, and noted Aaron’s approach without reacting.

“Getting some missing persons reports?”

Kris looked up at Aaron’s question, surprise evident on her face. Aaron did not react to her directly, but a smug look came to his face.
Maybe you were a bit fast giving up on me...

Julian looked at Aaron too, and nodded. “Mostly Americans who aren’t showing up at expected meetings, lunches, that kind of thing.”

“And we haven’t even told them when they’re leaving. I suppose we’ll be seeing more of that when it comes time.”

“How is Dr. Silver doing on that?”

“She says it’s going well,” Aaron replied. “She expects to be done in three to five days, depending on the breaks. Calibrating the system, and writing the translation equations, is apparently a sticky job.”

Julian nodded. “Keep me posted. I want to know as soon as we can set a date and time for launch.”

“Of course.” Aaron turned and left CnC, headed for his office.