The board was determined to return to space as their space station was the only commercial facility off planet. Every day the station was idle and uninhabited represented millions of dollars in lost opportunity.
It wasn’t hard to figure out that General Archer intended to use the DS500s to try to either disable or destroy the colonists’ ships, probably even their space station as well.
Surprisingly, of the five GST board members serving when the embargo began, four were still on the board; American Beauregard Templeton died from a stroke several years after the Jove Mission returned to Earth. He was replaced by his stepson Jefferson Templeton, who, along with Kenji Sakamoto of Japan, Bridget Manchester from Britain, Nathan Simon, also from the U.S., and Leo Cho, who held both American and Chinese citizenship comprised the board.
Currently, they were meeting in one of the shielded conference rooms at GST’s headquarters in Geneva, Switzerland to discuss the ramifications of General Archer’s order.
“So glad everyone could make it, it’s very good to see all of you,” said Manchester. Both Cho and Sakamoto inclined their heads as Templeton and Simon also nodded in Manchester’s direction. “Nathan, why don’t you bring us all up to speed, you said we may be walking into the lion’s den?”
Simon cleared his throat, “I got word from our U.S. military liaison, Ted Franks, that the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs essentially wants us to drop all current production on the DS100s and build him twenty-five of the DS500 railguns under the table.”
“And he has the funding to pay for them?” asked Sakamoto.
“We do not believe so,” Simon replied. “Jeff and I ran the numbers on the way here and finding funding for the hardware, and the increase in the support contract, would completely deplete the general’s discretionary funding, and then some. That’s not what worries me. I’m extremely worried about the political fallout if word gets out.”
“Plus, we think Archer is going to be going after the colonists’ ships, maybe even their space station,” Templeton added.
“You were wise to bring this to the board. To allow him to do so would be a disaster for us,” Sakamoto quietly said.
“Indeed,” Cho added.
“What’s the downside if we just say no, make an excuse about retooling, and such?” Manchester asked.
“That’s the question. It’s not like he can go somewhere else for mature railgun tech,” Templeton pointed out.
“But railgun weapons are not the only technology we sell to the United States government and specifically, the military. We would do well not to—how do you say it—cut off our noses to spite our faces,” Sakamoto reminded them. “The United States was responsible for four hundred billion in goods and another one hundred eighty in services last year alone. Should General Archer create a problem for the expected revenue from the U.S. for the short term, it would not bode well for our bottom line.”
“Yes, it might even hurt our continued business with the United States for quite some time if Archer gets his nose out of joint, or if the general public blames us for an attack on the colonists. It’s hard to tell how the world will regard GST if Archer uses our hardware to attack the colonists. Russia still hasn’t recovered from the crash in their economy when the world turned against it for trying to destroy the colony with the missile attack, as well as using illegal nukes in space to attack the colonist’s ships. We simply can’t take that chance,” Manchester declared.
The room was silent as they all thought about their predicament.
“Where did the general leave things with Mr. Franks?” Cho asked Simon.
“Franks said Archer was waiting for a hard schedule for us to deliver the units. Franks told him that for the next two years all our production was focused on the 100 series weapons. Franks called me specifically because of the damned if we do and damned if we don’t situation. Templeton and I dove deep into the current contracts, production schedules at all the plants, and the procurement delivery schedules for the vendors. Then we looked at the time needed to tool up for the DS500s once we did fulfillment for all the DS100 orders and Franks was right, we still need about a year and a half before we can convert all the plants from the 100s to the 500s,” Simon explained.
“Let’s put aside the logistics of delivery for the moment. What I want to know is does anyone have any idea if the DS500s can do any damage to either the ships or their orbital station?” Manchester asked. “If they’re ineffective, we could suffer something as bad as the Russians merely because GST supplied the general with the weapons. I don’t think we can take that chance. They already stole our space station, what if they decide to take out one or more of our facilities here at home?”
“We dare not be the source of attack against those people,” said Cho. “We have already suffered great financial hardship because of their actions, and we can ill afford another direct action taken against our interests. We must proceed very carefully.”
“I must concur with Cho. Nathan, would you please have an in-depth discussion with Mr. Franks. We need to fully understand what General Archer’s intentions are, not just his expectations. If he is determined to attack a colonist spacecraft or space station, we cannot allow our equipment to be a part of such an act, nor can we jeopardize the possibility of any further financial hardship where it can be avoided,” Sakamoto said, looking at each board member, getting a nod of agreement.
“Done. It appears we have some leeway before we would have to tool up for the 500s. I’ll make sure Ted gets back to Archer as soon as possible,” Simon replied.
“Very well. Is there anything else we need to discuss?” asked Manchester.
The rest of the conversation consisted of mostly social items, what functions they were attending in the near term, scheduled travel around the world, and an upcoming anniversary or two. About an hour later the meeting broke up, with the members dispersing to their next ports of call.
* * *
President Wilcox was reading the preliminary report from the C.I.A. detailing the assets they had in Iceland. They only had two operatives attached to the embassy working undercover as low-level clerks. The director was sending a half dozen additional support agents disguised as a church tour group to look around the lake where the ships landed.
Wilcox was one of many people convinced that the colonists couldn’t have achieved all their accomplishments without someone else having helped them, and in the back of her mind, someone probably white. And even though her Chief of Staff was black and as much a friend, she was unable to escape ingrained cultural norms than most anyone else. The difference was that she did her level best to fight those racist notions.
She called Slade into her office. When he arrived, she motioned to one of the couches.
“Coffee?” she asked.
“I’m good. What’s up?”
She handed him the folder from the C.I.A. “You really think they’ll find anything?”
“I have no idea, Nate. One of the challenges I have concerning the whole separatists’ issue is trying to formulate policy that’s not driven by some ingrained prejudice I may personally harbor. I can’t help but believe that they’re getting some sort of material support from someone on Earth. At first, I assumed that it was some group in this country; that wasn’t far-fetched at all. But seeing them land in Iceland? Frankly I don’t know what to think now. Let me ask you a serious question, Nate, and I want the truth.”
“Sure.”
“Am I a racist?” she asked, looking unflinchingly in his eye.
The question surprised Slade. He paused a moment, thinking about how to answer. “Frankly, I would say that if you are, you either hide it well, or you don’t let it run your life. If I thought it was a problem, we wouldn’t be friends, nor would I have this job. What brought this on?”
“Because I think the colonists have help on Earth. I can’t shake the notion no matter how hard I try. It’s too incredible to me that a mere handful of
people beat us to the moon, built a city under the surface, populated it with a couple of thousand residents without our knowing, and then launched that same underground city out toward the asteroid belt! It’s just too fantastic, even though the evidence is clear. What do you think? Do they have help? Did they have help in the beginning?”
“I read the entire file. I also read the analysis done on each member listed in the roster of their fuck you message, and the list read like a who’s who of top scientists, engineers and general research fellows. It wasn’t hard to believe that as a group they were capable of nearly anything. The proof is their very existence. Those spaceships are amazing, the speed, the shields that protect them, and no conventional fuel that we know of. The detector we have shows gravitational displacement, so I’m certain that they can go anywhere in the solar system. The only caveat is what kind of energy it takes for them to manipulate the force and direction of gravitational—power, I guess for lack of a better term. So, do I think they have some benefactor left behind on Earth? It’s unlikely. One thing I think does bring them back here is picking up supplies they either lack, or are too problematic to produce locally,” Slade summed up.
Wilcox was silent for a few moments, digesting everything Slade said. “Okay, with my personal paranoia out of the way, what’s your take on those ships landing in Iceland?”
Slade tossed the folder on the couch next to the president, “I have no idea. Their presence raises a bucket load of questions with absolutely no answers forthcoming. The C.I.A. has no clue. I can’t even begin to guess. But they couldn’t have picked a place to visit much farther away from our military except the interior of Africa. Now that wouldn’t have surprised me a bit. By the way, I hear rumblings about General Archer being frustrated with your lack of engagement with the colonists. No real details, but it’s no secret at the Pentagon that you’re not his favorite person.”
“No shit! I wouldn’t be surprised if he followed right along in the shoes of that bastard Kaminski,” she said bitterly. “You think I’m going to have to shitcan the son of a bitch?”
“Too early to tell. But I’ll keep my ear to the ground,” he promised.
Still Waters
“Take a look at this,” Christopher said, breezing into Chuck’s office. “Genesis, please display the latest images from Europa that I marked this morning.”
Chuck’s wall display came to life with a matrix of nine images tiled on screen.
“Zoom number four,” said Christopher. The screen cleared except for the image Christopher noted.
“What am I looking at?” Chuck asked, seeing a planetary body.
“That’s Europa. Look at the smear at eleven o’clock.”
“Dust?”
Christopher moved over to the screen and tapped his finger over the smear. “No, Astronomy believes that’s a water plume!”
“Genesis, zoom in and enhance please,” Chuck requested.
A few moments later, Chuck asked, “Who’s seen this?”
“Just the guys in Astronomy, you and me. I asked them to keep a lid on it until you have a chance to inform the mission team,” said Christopher, grinning broadly.
“Gotta run!” Chuck jumped up to leave. “Genesis, please transfer those images to my storage. And call all the Jupiter Mission staff and have them meet me in the Astrophysics conference room. Thanks, man, catch you later,” he said, hugging Christopher on the way out of the office.
When he dashed into the conference room, Chuck was greeted by three of the mission planning staff, one of whom was Angela.
“What’s up? That’s a shit-eating grin if there ever was one!” she asked.
“Let’s wait for everyone to get here so we don’t have to backtrack,” Chuck replied, grinning like a fool.
Once the entire team had all arrived, the chit-chat died down as everyone focused their attention on Chuck.
“You’re probably wondering why I called you all here today,” he began, as several members of the team groaned. “Okay, all kidding aside. Genesis?”
“Yes Chuck. How may I be of assistance?”
“Please display the images Chris gave me,” he requested as the wall screen came to life. “These are the latest images Astro took of Europa. Genesis, display image four and enhance the same area as before.”
When the image zoomed in on the area, Chuck said, “Take a good look, folks! According to Astronomy, this dirty smudge here is most likely a water plume.”
The room broke out into excited chatter as they crowded around the screen and had the image transferred to their personal Datapads.
“Okay, settle down people. If this is what Astronomy thinks it is, part of our mission, at least to Europa, has just become a hell of a lot easier. On the way over I asked that a high-res scope be tasked to observe Europa over the next few days to try to locate the source of the plumes, if that’s what they are. Obviously, if water from the interior is being vented to the surface, not only can we get samples for the labs, but there may be a path into the interior. You know our jumpers work perfectly well as submersibles and the pressure shouldn’t be anywhere near what we experienced in our trip into Jupiter’s Red Spot. If we can get into the interior, the exploration possibilities are endless!” Chuck said excitedly.
“Yeah, but I’m more worried about getting out,” Angela said, eliciting laughter from the others. “If these plumes are cracks that go on down to the ocean under the crust, they could go through freeze/thaw cycles that could slam the door shut once we get down there. I have no idea how we will locate an exit. I’m still presuming we’ll be under thousands of meters of ice. We need to do a lot more investigating before I’ll authorize any entry into the moon’s interior,” she said, looking at Chuck.
“I’d never get the mission signed off on without a foolproof means of preventing us from getting sealed in the core. Chris wouldn’t let us even start out for Jupiter unless we have every contingency, every possible base covered,” Wallace reminded them.
“In any case, if these are vents from the interior of the moon, we can at least count on safely getting some good samples,” Angela said. “And that’s what this mission is all about.”
Chuck held up his hand for silence. “I’m not here to mess with the mission parameters. I’m just here to bring you all the latest data on one of your objectives. Use it wisely!” he said.
“While we’re here, let’s look at all the images in the set. Maybe we can mark out some areas on Europa that we want the folks over in Astronomy to focus on,” suggested Lee, one of the biologists.
“Good enough. I’m out, I have to jet over to the hab and get some quality work in,” Chuck announced. “I’ll check with you all later. Anything important, leave me a note in the mission status folder. Later, people.”
Chuck made his way to Operations. Once there he checked the delivery schedule for equipment transfers to the new hab. When he saw who was next up to ferry materials to the new installation, he chuckled.
“Genesis, please connect me with Iris.”
“Hey, honey. What’s up?” she replied.
“I may be late getting back from the new hab. Just letting you know not to hold up dinner, waiting for me.”
“You have a lot to do today?” she asked.
“Maybe. I’ll know more when I get there. I’ll call you, all right?”
“No problem, Hon. If you see Chris or Peanut, tell them it’s way past time we got together,” she said.
“No problem. Gotta run. I have to run the full checkout on my suit before the next load leaves.”
“Talk to you later.”
Chuck hurried to the spacesuit storage locker room and began the process of inspecting his personal suit. When he arrived, there were a couple of maintenance techs working on other suits. One offered to help, but Chuck was determined to complete the inspection on his own. But he did accept the offer for the tech to help once Chuck had his suit on.
Once he w
as checked out, Chuck hurried to the colony’s massive hanger and quickly found the jumper taking the next load to the new hab.
Walking up behind the pilot, Chuck tapped him on the shoulder. The pilot turned around and when he saw who it was, jumped into Chuck’s arms and joyfully clapped him on the back.
“Uncle Chuck! It’s great to see you! What are you doing here all dressed up?” Ben excitedly asked.
“I wanted to see how bachelor living was treating you. Gettin’ busy every night?”
The surprised look on Ben’s face quickly turned to one of embarrassment.
“Just pokin’ you, my man. Now that I’m with Iris, and getting old, I have to live vicariously through your experiences. But to answer your question, I need a lift over to the hab, saw your name on the pilot roster in Ops and decided to catch a ride with my favorite nephew.”
“Aw man, that would be great. You want to drive?” asked Ben.
“No way. It’s all yours. How long before we leave?”
“Probably about ten minutes.”
“Cool. What’s going over today?” Chuck inquired.
“A couple of dozen G-waves for internal gravity, and some control panels to be installed in Ops.”
Peanut entered the hanger followed by a floater piled high with equipment. As soon as he saw Ben and Chuck, he headed in their direction, followed by the floater.
Chuck grabbed Peanut, his hug lifting the smaller man off his feet.
“My man! Good seeing you,” Chuck said, as he lowered Peanut to the floor.
“Hey, Uncle Peanut,” said Ben, giving Peanut an awkward hug through his spacesuit.
“Hey, Ben. How’s bachelor living?” Peanut asked.
“So far it’s all right. Different. I don’t have home cooked meals made when I get in at night. Been eating at the commissary almost all the time. And, I’m spending a lot more time with my friends,” he explained.
“And girls?” Peanut asked.
Quarantine Page 11
