The Phoenix Project (13 page)

    
“The closest of the three domes,” Joshua
replied.

    
“Why do we need three boobs for this
thing?” Madison
asked using the nickname she preferred for the generic bases that dotted the
Colonized Sphere.

    
“More to appreciate,” Joshua said with a
smile.

    
“You and your cleavage fixation.”

    
“The Senate felt we need three base
structures. One for the warhead, one for tactical operations, and one for crew
quarters,” Elliot said.

    
“Looks good,” Joshua said.

    
“Shut up!” Madison replied with elongated vowels. “When
do we take off?” she directed at Elliot.

    
“We’re nearly finished off—loading from
Endeavour
,” Elliot replied. “We’ll be
back up in orbit in about two hours.”

    
“Good. I need a cup of coffee,” Madison said with repulsion
for the vista and turned to their waiting shuttle.

    
Joshua stood with his arms crossed in the
cool morning air. “When will it be ready?”

    
“Less than a month,” Elliot said with a
coil of visible breath, “then we’re really in deep.”

    
“Come on, I’m cold. The coffee’s on me,”
Joshua said and headed back for the shuttle to join Madison in its heated compartment.

    
“When I told you we would have a response
for you in a matter of hours General, I didn’t mean two.” Mary’s skin showed
the glistening of sweat even through the old monitor’s limited resolution.

    
“I am aware of that, Mary.”

    
“Call me Ambassador,” Mary said, retracting
her friendly nature.

    
“Ambassador, my superiors have modified
their demands in answer to your slow response. With the threat of a possible
impending attack, they have demanded an immediate reply.”

    
“The matter is up for debate in the Senate
within a few minutes. You may have a further three hour wait at most.”

    
“That’s not good enough. You may need this
to be brought to the attention of your Prime Ministers instead,” Nadine said.

    
“We only circumvent the Senate in times of
emergency.”

    
“Then I’ll give you a reason: My superiors
have advocated that, in the absence of an immediate response, they will
transmit orders to take Outpost Fourteen by force.”

    
Mary pursed her lips before responding.
“You realize General, that such an act would be a declaration of war.”

    
Nadine saw and felt the honest concern of
Mary Bourgeois. With a thoughtful glance to the floor, she responded. “I know.
Believe me, this wasn’t my idea. I’m only voicing the orders of the Council.”

    
“I should have known it came directly from
them. I will tell the Senate of the state of affairs and reply as soon as I
can.”

    
“Thank—you, Missus Bourgeois.”

    
“I think that maybe you should call me Mary
after all.”

    
“Maybe you should call me Nadine under the
circumstances. I’d rather this be done in a more friendly manner than for any
personal problems impede our ability to resolve this peacefully,” Nadine said.

    
“Do you think that the Council wants this
to be resolved peacefully?”

    
“If you know anything about the Council,
then you know that I can’t answer that,” Nadine replied, “but I will tell you
this: You really do have to act quickly here. The Council is dead serious about
this.”

    
“I’ll take care of it immediately, Nadine.
Thank—you for being honest with me.”

    
“It’s the least I could do,” Nadine said
before Mary deactivated the communications link and hurried to her difficult
task.

    
Maria sat in a black chair at the center of
the
Excalibur’s
bridge.

    
“Admiral Peterson, I’ve got new orders from
the Brass,” a Lieutenant—Commander at the communications station said. Maria
straightened herself in her chair and nodded.

    
The main screen occupying the front wall
changed from the view of Earth and its materializing silver ring to a view of
Admiral Nelson’s furrowed brow. The Fleet Admiral’s coffee colored skin showed
even greater wear than usual.

    
“Admiral,” Ronald Nelson said.

    
“What do you have for me Ronnie?”

    
“How are your space legs?”

    
“I found them a few hours ago. Where do you
need me?”

    
“I need you to relocate the battle group to
the outer defense grid.”

    
“Are we expecting an attack out there?”
Maria asked.

    
“The Coalition is demanding the possession
of Outpost Fourteen.”

    
“Really?” she asked. “I’m sure you told
them to go to hell in your own charming way.”

    
“Not yet. The official word is that the
Senate and the Prime Ministers are still debating the request.”

    
“What if the Coalition decides to start
pushing?” Maria asked.

    
“Then you push back.”

    
“How hard?” Maria inquired.

    
“Only to the limits of peacetime policy.
Understood?”

    
“That leaves me in a bad position, Ronnie.
You’re asking me to do nothing more than yell really loud at the enemy.”

    
“You yell pretty well, Maria. I’m sure you’ll
think of something. Just make sure our task force looks intimidating out
there.”

    
“Thanks. I’ll do my best to scowl.”

    
“I’ll follow up with more information as
soon as I can,” Nelson said.

    
“I’ll talk to you then.”

    
Nelson nodded and deactivated the communications
link. Maria let out a long breath and stared at the back of the helmsman’s
head.

    
“Sub—lieutenant, can you spare the time to
set a course?”

    
“Yes, Ma’am. I think I can manage it,” he
said.

    
“Good, Lieutenant. Take us to Outpost
Fourteen and ensure the rest of the battle group follows us.”

    
Forty warships exited the orbit of Earth.
They resembled a large flock of grey birds ranging in sizes from eight hundred
to over three thousand feet in length. Their sub—light engines glowed a bright
blue as they accelerated towards the edges of the solar system.

    
Chaos erupted on the floor of the Senate
building in London
as Mary Bourgeois announced the Council’s demands. The gibbering of a thousand
senators housed within the two century old building increased as Mary concluded
the official announcement from the Council. The lower portion of the palatial
room was adorned with mahogany fittings and benches. All of the senators wore
robes of black and grey with the occasional splotch of deep red or blue at the
collars where personal dress showed through. The speaker had the one unique
costume out of the thousand. His black robe with dark grey hem had a flare of
gold leaf piping from the collar, down the shoulders and to the end of the
cuffs. A unique platinum broach hung at his left breast bearing the Alliance coat of arms depicting
two lions guarding a shield.

    
The Senators stared up at Mary’s bright
image on one of the great screens embedded in the curved ceiling over the
Senate Chambers.

    
“And!” she exclaimed and raised her voice
over the discourse. “And as such, we the governing Council of Twelve have no
choice but to resort to extraordinary measures.”

    
“Are you saying that this is an immediate
threat, Ambassador?”

    
“Yes.”

    
The Senate began to murmur and soon became
a roar before the Speaker quieted them with an electronic buzzer he used far
too often.

    
“Ambassador Bourgeois, does the Senate have
the time to address this issue?”

    
“My counterpart indicated that this was an
issue to be addressed immediately. She specifically told me the Prime Ministers
should be involved and I don’t doubt her urgency on this issue.”

    
The Senate fell silent and all of their
eyes fell on the Speaker.

    
“Do you believe such a measure is
warranted?” his thin face seemed to retract even further into his skull at the
idea of circumventing the Senate.

    
“The message I got was one that required
haste. I believe that the Council wants direct communication with the Prime
Ministers or they will settle things on their own. As you know, their way of
resolving issues with us has not been pleasant in the past.”

    
“Thank—you for your report, Ambassador,”
the Speaker of the House said. Mary nodded as her image faded from the screen.

    
“Senators, I propose a vote to raise this
issue for a Prime Minister’s Bill to be received and voted on by our elected
leaders.”

    
The majority of the Senate applauded in
agreement, and all sat down in silence for the Speaker to continue.

    
“I designate this Prime Minister’s Bill
Zero One for the ninety—ninth year of the twenty—third century. The bill in
question is for the Prime Ministers’ to hold an immediate emergency session
with the Coalition governing body, the Council of Twelve. All in favor?”

    
The senators in favor stood one at a time
to indicate their support around the chamber. The process took several minutes
to complete.

    
“All opposed?” the individuals each stood
in opposition, taking slightly less time than the first round. The speaker gave
the official numbers once the vote had finished.

    
“At a vote of five hundred and thirty—two
to four hundred and fifty—nine, the motion is passed.”

    
A number of Senators emitted a few low
murmurs of discontent before moving on to the next issue.

    
All five Prime Ministers sat in the same
room for their daily meetings. They were discussing an adjustment to military
funding when word of the vote reached them by way of an out of breath courier
from the Senate. He wordlessly gave the link to one of the Prime Ministers and
left the small room which smelled of well kept antique wood. In the warm light
of ornate lamps, Mathis Laurier accessed the link. His dark eyes took a quick
look at the title and then he read the bill for his four equals. They listened
intently, the military budget forgotten, as the depth of what was read sank into
their aristocratic bodies.

    
Mathis finished his recital to the
engrossed gazes of his counterparts. As Prime Ministers, the two women and
three men had all dressed in professional, yet simple, attire as befitted their
positions.

    
“When was the last time a Prime Minister
actually spoke to a Council member?” Prime Minister Linda Simon asked. Her
pearl earrings complimented her necklace of the same make and reflected some of
the soft yellow light. They stood out on a black blouse and the jaw length hair
she had kept in the same style since the last election as confirmation of her
true and steady election slogan.

    
“About ten years ago,” another Prime
Minister, Desmond Green said in a British accent. His rough textured clothes
always seemed ill fitting on the friendly old man. As always, he fiddled with a
small wood pipe for Tobaccette. “And only then because of what happened with
the
Norfolk
.”

    
“Mathis, you have a Doctorate in history.
Do they want our attention because of the lunar crisis?” Linda asked.

    
“I don’t think so,” Mathis replied in his
Parisian accent. “They would have called on us earlier.”

    
“Do we talk to them? I say yes,” Ahmed
said.

    
“Me as well,” Mathis said.

    
“I agree,” Desmond said.

    
“I as well,” Kim stated.