by Paul Rix
He paused as he became aware of the three crewmates staring at him with looks of annoyance on their face. "Is this an inspection or a history lesson?" muttered O'Brien to no one in particular.
The hatch was hermetically sealed to prevent air or moisture from entering the storage bays. Maxwell wasn't willing to open it up, instead, using a digital monitor next to each hatch to perform a cursory inspection. "The equipment looks exactly as it did when it was loaded aboard," she said with some surprise.
O'Brien glanced at Garrett. "More museum pieces, I suppose."
Garret ignored the remark. "I recall the landing craft is behind this other hatch." He didn't really need to display his knowledge. There was ample signage and warnings in large letters to notify what the hatch was for.
"That's our way off Britannic. The craft can transport twenty colonists at a time, either to another PEA or to a planet's surface. I'm sure you know that all colonists and essential provisions have to be removed before a PEA makes final planetfall."
Garrett nodded. As a boy growing up on Lafayette, he had been fascinated by the Exodus landing craft that had shuttled the early colonists to their new homes. The craft were amazing pieces of technology for their era, able to make multiple return trips to and from planets. Although the PEAs had taken all the plaudits for carrying colonists to the Stellar Cluster, Garrett had always believed the landing craft to be the actual heroes. He didn't want to mention it now, but he had seen a genuine landing craft in a museum on Constance II. He had regretted not being able to touch it or go inside and secretly intended to rectify that situation before the rescue crew arrived.
They made their way back along the core, stopping again after one hundred meters to inspect the storage bays. It was becoming a routine exercise with all supplies having safely survived. After forty-five minutes, they were by two oversized hatched on either side of the corridor, labeled 'Consumables.'
"Behind these hatches are enough basic supplies to last twelve months," O'Brien said, as Maxwell conducted her visual inspection. "The meals are specially prepared to provide a balanced diet, with all the nutrients, proteins, carbs, and minerals to keep us healthy. At least until we're able to grow our own food."
"Yes, I read that you have stores filled with seeds and plants ready to grow self-sustaining crops."
"More than that. There are over eight thousand types of plant. We also carry insects, bees, lizards, birds, reptiles, fish, and mammals. These ships aren't called arks for nothing."
Garrett nodded. "I'm pleased to inform you that most of what was transported successfully survived. That's how you can have a coffee. But we also have horses and domestic pets such as cats and dogs. Unfortunately, not all animals could adapt and early settlers made mistakes. Perhaps you can give a second chance to some species that didn't make it. There could be an absolute treasure trove on board Britannic."
"Which is why we need to respect the old girl," said Maxwell, ruefully. "We may be late to the party, but I hope Britannic's importance has not diminished with time."
"I'm no expert, but what you have here is of immense value," Garrett said. "The Federation will take careful possession of everything here."
"Where to next?" asked Takahashi.
"The chambers," replied O'Brien quickly. "We've seen enough of the ship. It's time to check on the living."
"You don't need to come, Sakura," said Maxwell. "We totally understand."
"I'll be okay,' Takahashi replied, quietly. "I need to know if my family is safe. The answer is the same, regardless of whether I see it for myself."
Maxwell gave her a friendly hug. "In that case, let's find out."
This time the carts continued back along the track, past the hatch for the command center. After another one hundred meters, they came to a stop next to a sign that read 'Chamber One.' This time, it was O'Brien who was first to the hatch. Instead of looking at the monitor, he pressed a code into the adjacent keypad. The hatch was still slowly swinging open as he entered, followed by Garrett, Takahashi, and, bringing up the rear, Captain Maxwell.
Chapter 16
Frederick was fashionably late for his lunch appointment at The Scented Ivy, an exclusive and discreet restaurant situated on a small asteroid orbiting two thousand kilometers above Constance II. He hated waiting for others and had established a variety of tactics to ensure he was never on time for meetings. It was not as if anyone was going to object to the president's son being a bad timekeeper. He also found this approach a good way to judge the other person; their reactions often revealed more than any conversation.
As was the case now. The man he was meeting, Cam Boyd, had unexpectedly arranged this appointment. Although an old friend, the invitation had come out of the blue. Clearly, he must want something, and so would wait. But for how long?
Being last to arrive also provided an opportunity for Frederick's security team to sweep the location for anything that should not be there. The meeting room, the surrounding areas, and the connecting tunnel from his spaceship had to be clear of recording devices, weapons, and all electronic or biological sensors, however small. Although The Scented Ivy prided itself on absolute discretion, he could never be too careful; his mother had drilled into him that enemies were everywhere.
Cam Boyd was an old acquaintance from the Founders Academy, an elite and expensive place of learning reserved for high-ranking politicians and their families. Boyd had probably been the closest to what he could call a friend during those sometimes tough years. As is normal, life got in the way of their continued friendship and although they hadn't stayed in touch, Frederick was aware of his old friend's rise through the political ranks. To Frederick's regret, it was for one of the opposition parties.
Frederick was taken off guard by Boyd's genuine smile as he entered the room. Before he could say anything, Boyd took a large pace toward him and embraced him tightly. Feeling awkward by the show of intimacy, Frederick returned the embrace with only half the enthusiasm that his old friend was showing before pushing himself away.
"Why so serious, Freddie?" Even Boyd's boylike grin couldn't encourage Frederick to crack a smile.
"Maybe I'm not used to someone showing how pleased they are to see me. I'm so used to receiving cursory nods of heads. And we've not seen each other in over six years. I wasn't expecting you to be so…"
"Flamboyant?"
"Exactly," Frederick agreed, finally able to relax enough to smile.
"It's been too long. Come, take a seat. The first course has already been prepared and is ready to be served."
Frederick glanced at the table which the server had set for two people with three sets of knives and forks for each of them. He was glad he'd had the foresight to block out three hours in his schedule. The vintage bottle of the finest red wine was a good indicator that Boyd was looking for a big favor.
As soon as Frederick sat down, two waist-high serving droids appeared from recessed panels in the wall and placed a bowl of clear fish broth in front of each of the men.
As Frederick sniffed the appetizing aromas of the freshwater kingfish and local herbs, he knew it was more than a coincidence that this was one of his favorite starters. Boyd was blatantly pulling out all the stops to impress his old friend. The afternoon's conversation was going to be interesting.
***
Frederick took his time over his food, savoring every mouthful of broth while exchanging pleasantries. The conversation started off light as they superficially reminisced about their days at the academy and some of the more eccentric lecturers that had taught them.
This was all part of the game. Boyd seemed in no hurry to get to the point of the meeting. And Frederick was intrigued to see where the conversation would lead.
It was only as the bowls were being removed that Boyd made his first play. "Freddie, there are rumors that your sister is away on a covert mission."
"You know you should never listen to rumors. They're usually half-truths started by people who only want to stir thin
gs up."
"So she's in the palace with the president?"
"I didn't say that either. Why the interest in Delta?"
"It's more curiosity. Sources tell me she's joined a military exercise with her elite personal guard. It sounded unusual. And I wondered why you weren't also involved."
Frederick winced but maintained his relaxed posture. "We may be twins, but we're not joined at the hip. We each have our own lives and individual responsibilities."
"Ah, so it is true. It seems to be more regular that your mother chooses Delta for the more exciting roles. It's widely assumed she is being groomed by the president to one day lead the Federation?"
Frederick felt the first pangs of anger and resentment building inside him. Boyd's comments were too close to the mark to be comfortable, and it took all his willpower to remain calm. Boyd was trying to soften him up, although he still had no clue why. There was a way to go before the genuine approach was put on the table.
"My mother can choose whoever she wants to carry out specific missions in her name. I believe there is a fair split of responsibilities. And it is foolish to guess the president's plans for her role when it is parliament that ultimately decides her successor. Surely Deschamps has taught you that much."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. It was just my personal observation. I don't want a man of your caliber and skills to be dissatisfied by the cards he's being dealt."
"Thank you for your concern, but there really is no need. Anyway, where's the main course? That soup has awoken my taste buds." Turning his head, he saw the serving droids returning with his next dish. He hoped the interruption would enable him to change the conversation.
Neither man spoke as they began the meat dish, rack of lamb, which was another of Frederick's favorites though he couldn't enjoy it as much as he wanted. Cam's comments were bouncing around his head, reawakening thoughts and feelings that he often suppressed. There was no doubting that Delta was the favorite. However hard he tried to impress his mother, it was never enough.
Sometimes he hated himself for caring so much. He had a quality of life that most people could only dream of, with wealth and power unrivaled except for a handful of elite citizens. It should be enough. But it wasn't. He wanted more. He wanted to be exalted. He wanted his sister to know how it felt to be him.
"How's the lamb?" Boyd finally said, breaking the oppressive silence.
"Why did you ask to meet me, Cam? I know it wasn't to catch up with an old friend."
Boyd put down his cutlery and took a deep breath. "Advocate Deschamps wants to make you an offer."
The words were unexpected. Deschamps was one of President D’Angelo's most outspoken critics. There was no love lost between them, and they considered themselves as enemies who failed to agree on virtually every issue of significance. "You cannot be serious. We have nothing in common. What could he offer that I would find attractive?"
Boyd stared directly into Frederick's eyes. "Power?"
Frederick laughed. "I already have far more power than Advocate Deschamps. Does he take me for an idiot?"
"The president's time is drawing to a close. Her enemies have been circling, waiting to pounce. I think you know that. Deschamps wants to save you from the feeding frenzy and have you as part of the new governing elite."
"You're bluffing. My mother's position is as secure as ever. You have nothing against her, so you want to use me as a tool to bring her down. That reeks of desperation. I thought you were better than that. This meeting is over."
Angry at his time being wasted, Frederick quickly stood to leave.
But Boyd had other ideas. "Hear me out, Frederick. We know about the Project Exodus Ark."
Frederick froze. How was that possible? "I don't know what you're talking about."
"In that case, I am truly sorry for calling you here today. We believe your sister has gone to destroy the ark. Maybe our information isn't as reliable as we thought. It would make a fascinating story, though."
A cold bead of sweat ran down Frederick's temple as he considered what to say. Who could have leaked the information? It seemed unlikely Boyd was bluffing. The accusation was too specific. Leaving would be the best policy. Any other action would be a virtual admission that Boyd was correct.
He returned Boyd's stare, attempting to gauge the man's confidence. Boyd's blue eyes remained fixed on him with a look of quiet assurance, almost as if he could read Frederick's mind.
"You're crazy if you think threats will work against me," he said as he walked toward the exit.
"This is not a threat, Frederick. I'm offering you an olive branch. A way to escape the carnage that will descend on the current administration. Please sit down and hear me out. I'm not here to judge you. All I request is another ten minutes of your time and then you're free to decide whatever you want to do."
Frederick hesitated, torn with indecision. He would never be disloyal to his family, yet he had to discover how much Boyd knew. Curiosity got the better of him and he returned to the table. "Okay, ten minutes. But only so that I can determine how much you're being lied to."
"Thank you. I promise I'm not trying to incriminate you. This meeting is entirely off the record."
Frederick glanced at the remains of his meal, realizing he had lost his appetite.
"Deschamps and his inner circle have been watching you for some time. They see great potential in you that is overlooked by President D’Angelo. And, however much you may try to deny it, we regard your sister as the natural successor. We see that as a total waste of your talents as you would make a far better president."
"You're making many presumptions."
"Are you content for Delta to be president and to be sidelined for the rest of your life?"
"More presumptions."
Boyd found another angle. "You must have thought about your future. You must have ambitions and plans other than being a deputy in the family business."
Frederick shrugged, saying nothing.
"The discovery of another PEA could be a game changer in the balance of power. The president knows that, which is why she's sent your sister to destroy it before its existence can be proven. Isn't that true?"
Frederick allowed himself a smile. Boyd was merely fishing for information. He had no evidence of the PEA's whereabouts. All he had was hearsay. But he had revealed how important Deschamps thought the ark was.
"Again, all supposition. I'm surprised at you for listening to gossip. When I return to the palace, I will try to confirm what you're telling me. I can't fathom why you would make up such an insane story. If a PEA is out there, surely that would be good news for everyone."
"We both know that the president is doing her best to bury the past. She's spent decades suppressing any information related to Project Exodus. If not for brave advocates such as Deschamps, she would have made the subject a federal crime."
Boyd couldn't know how close he was to the truth. Frederick had, on more than one occasion, persuaded his mother from introducing harsh penalties for possession of any literature or information referencing Project Exodus.
"Suppose what you're saying is true. I still don't see what I can bring to Deschamps. What exactly is his offer?"
"Deschamps has been a political advocate for over fifty years. For most of that period he has opposed President D’Angelo and continues to push for a change in government. He's also a realist. He knows there is a vast chasm between his ideals and those of your mother. Ousting your mother could cause a bloodbath between the rival factions before they settle into a new regime. Nobody wants that. Deschamps envisions your role as a bridge between the two sides. If you and he can find some common ground, it would placate many who would otherwise seek a violent response."
"So what he wants is a peaceful revolution?"
"Exactly."
"What would I have to do? Other than betray my own family."
"Confirm the existence and location of the PEA. Allow us to intercept it and prevent its dest
ruction. The ark and its contents are our heritage and deserve to be shared with the masses. After all, their forebears arrived in similar vessels."
"I'll play along for a while, Cam. Assuming we have found an ark in the Stellar Cluster, my usefulness to Deschamps would appear to diminish as soon as I divulge its location. In fact, my life becomes forfeit. All sides would want me dead, either as a traitor or simply as a loose end."
"We know it's a huge request."
"Millions of people are going to hate me. Hardly a prized asset."
"Not when they understand the reasons. That you sacrificed your family for the wider community in the Federation. Millions of people will adore you. Seen as a hero and a man who isn't afraid to do the right thing. Everyone across the Stellar Cluster will be chanting your name. Your name will forever have a place in the history archives."
Frederick let his mind wander, allowing himself a moment to imagine what that could be like. It felt good.
"Deschamps would install you as the new president, a position you will never have without his support. Instead, your sister will be who people read about for centuries to come. I doubt you'd even be a footnote."
Frederick could see what Boyd was saying made sense. His mother and sister were close, and they increasingly sidelined him. Maybe Deschamps was offering a genuine opportunity to change his destiny. To be the great leader that he knew he could be.
"What assurances would I have from Deschamps? And what does he gain from this exercise? Assuming it was a success, President D’Angelo would still be in control."
"Good questions. What assurances would you want? Deschamps is pragmatic and recognizes the risks to which you would expose yourself. He will listen to all reasonable requests you feel necessary in order to ensure your safety. As for his own personal demands, he wants the presidency to be more democratic than the present regime. While you would be president, a council over which he would preside would discuss and agree key policy decisions."
