by Patty Jansen
I’d heard about Earth’s newest sea. The region had always been well below sea level, and a combination of volcanic activity and rising sea levels had caused water to start seeping into the basin from the Red Sea. It had started about fifteen years ago, but had only been brought to the public attention in the last ten years. The basin was still filling up and had a long way yet to go.
Dekker said, “This is the Afar region of eastern Ethiopia. In case you’re unfamiliar with this area, it’s the hottest place on Earth. There used to be nomads trekking across this area, but the region is largely abandoned these days, because not many humans are happy at those temperatures, never mind their livestock.”
His expression said, but it’s perfect for Coldi. I was starting to get a Kazakhstan feeling about this, another episode we did not want to repeat.
“This area is wildland, pretty much abandoned by local government because there is nothing of value to protect, and it’s too hot to enforce laws, and the local governments are too poor to supply services, if ever there were any in the first place.”
He enlarged the image still further, so that I could detect individual hills and goat tracks through the sand. Several tracks joined into a dirt road where there was a small dark speck.
“Is that a car?”
“A truck,” he said, and scrolled to another part of this huge, never-ending image. He pointed a slender finger. “Here is another one. And another one over here. As you can see, this area is a bit of a local highway.” He flicked across to the next screen. “This is the place where they’re all going.”
I peered at the image, a pattern of geometric lines that were either dug in the sand or made from dark stone. It was hard to tell which. There were some clusters of heavy vehicles and a couple of sheds, which stood out because of their light-coloured roofs. “I’m not quite sure what I’m looking at. A building site?”
“Yes, a building site, and what they’re building looks a hell of a lot like this, don’t you think?”
The document that appeared on the screen over the top of the photo was more familiar to me than I cared to remember: the blueprints for large Coldi settlements in the Sahara. And yes, it did look that whatever was being built in the desert used the same building plan. The lines matched perfectly.
I met Dekker’s eyes. I wondered if he’d been chosen to deal with this because he had a good deal of African heritage, or if he was just a part-African who happened to get this job.
“Mr Wilson, I assume you don’t need my help to reach the same conclusion as we have. I do not need to spell it out. Last year, when you barged into the president’s office with that dressed-up suit and your gorillas, you assured me that this settlement plan for offworlders in the Sahara, this colony, whatever you want to call it, was dead. Somehow, I don’t think so.”
“Well, this is truly the first I’ve seen of this project—”
“Mr Wilson, I’m not saying that you were lying, but obviously someone was lying. The aliens are here and they’re building this settlement right now. They’ve even designed weapons especially for us so that, as is my guess, they can pass them to local officials and militias as bribes to make sure they keep their mouth shut about the presence of these aliens.”
“Well . . . that’s a bit far-fetched. I don’t know how you come to that conclusion based simply on these images.”
“What other conclusion can we draw? Is your memory capacity too small to have retained the name ‘Kazakhstan’?”
I was now getting very annoyed. “Look, why don’t you simply tell me what the problem is. I’ve just travelled for hours, and I’m not in the mood to be dicked about. I’m going home tomorrow, and I’m highly tempted to walk out that door.” I could almost hear Thayu and Nicha cheering.
His expression closed. “I’m trying to.”
“Without making false accusations based on nothing.”
He pressed his lips together. A thick silence hung in the room. My contract had been brokered by Sirkonen, but ever since Danziger had ‘inherited’ me with the presidency, he’d made no secret of the fact that he never agreed with the appointment. I was almost at the point of hoping that Dekker would tell me that I was relieved of my duties.
He didn’t.
I made an effort to get the discussion back on topic. “What do the local authorities have to say about this?”
“Nothing. They’re up to their ears in trouble: refugees, overcrowding, lack of food, lack of money, disease, no water. They don’t have any time to worry about this. It might be the reason why those people are in that spot. It’s also likely to be a problem, if left to fester, that will eclipse everything else they’re already facing.”
I couldn’t help but agree with him.
“We asked Lucius Brown about this development.” That was the president of PanAf. “He said he was unaware of it, and would make investigations. A few days later he came back with the news that it was a tourist development to be the first on the shore of Earth’s newest sea. A fucking tourist development.” Dekker’s dark eyes met mine in a hard look. “Do you know how hot fifty degrees Celsius is, Mr Wilson? And why anyone would attract tourists to a place like that, unless you want to attract alien tourists? And I suspect that maybe someone in his chain of information got the words ‘tourist’ and ‘terrorist’ mixed up.”
“I can assure you that from the point of view of gamra, the plan is dead.”
He gestured at the screen. “This does not look like a dead plan to me. This looks pretty damn real.”
I couldn’t say anything to dispute that. It looked real to me, too.
“I want this investigated. I want this gone. I want these weapons out of that region. I want construction to stop and I want this trade of weapons—whoever they’re trading with—to stop.”
Everyone wanted it to stop, but since Nations of Earth wouldn’t come to the table to talk about accepting gamra law, there were no legal mechanisms for anyone to do so. They were still getting hung up about the rumour that gamra prohibited religion, which was false, by the way. Welcome to the Wild West.
“I’m not sure there is all that much I can do. I will raise it with the assembly and Asto’s Chief Coordinator—”
Dekker was shaking his head. “No, Mr Wilson.”
What did he mean, no?
“You may raise it with the assembly, but any kind of action they will take is going to be too little, too late.”
Unfortunately, I agreed with him. Gamra had very little interest in Earth because, you know, there were no laws.
I didn’t know in how many languages they needed me to shout Sign the fucking agreement before they understood that they actually needed to, you know, sign the fucking agreement before gamra would be able to do anything about stuff like this. It was the standard agreement that no other gamra entities had any kind of trouble with. The one that said that no people should be systematically discriminated against and that original inhabitants should have the highest priority in people claiming use of a particular part of land. And if they signed it, people could get citizenship cards, and they could travel, the restriction on the Exchange could be lifted, and gamra laws regarding offworld citizens would apply on Earth, and any criminals that were caught could be formally extradited.
Dog, meet tail. “The longer we let this problem fester, the more it will start to look like Kazakhstan. Once these weapons are distributed all through the population, it will be virtually impossible to retrieve them all. We need to act swiftly and decisively.”
“I agree. I’m sending you out there to investigate.”
What? Like those guys were just going to invite me for a cup of tea and if I asked them to stop building, they’d smile at me and simply do it? “Sure, I can investigate, but there will need to be some formal structures in pla
ce before—”
“Good. The plane leaves in an hour.”
What? “But—”
“You always complained that people who were familiar with Coldi customs were never involved in the Kazakhstan case, that they should have been consulted and that they could have prevented a lot of the trouble. I’m listening, and so I’m involving you now. Do your thing. Talk to all the important people. Here is your moment to shine. Prevent another Kazakhstan. You seem to know how this is done.”
I could almost believe that I heard a joking tone in his voice. “Do I get any choice in the matter?”
“Yes. Chicken or fish?”
Ha, ha, ha. “How long is this for? I’ve got arrangements in Barresh—”
“I don’t care, Mr Wilson. You are still in our employ until the end of the month and I’ve already got approval from the security council to extend it for whatever length of time it takes you to get these people out of there. If your new boss has any inkling of how we work, then he should respect that.”
CHAPTER 5
* * *
THAT WAS ALL Dekker was going to say about it. He didn’t mention where I was going, nor whom I was to meet or what he wanted me to talk about. My brief would be on the plane, he said, and it included all the details I was going to need.
He briefly discussed money. “You’ll be paid a standard Nations of Earth stipend pro rata for the length of time you end up working on this problem. I trust that you’re familiar with the rates and in case you want more, I’d like to inform you that I have zero flexibility in offering increased rates, including danger allowances, remote area allowances, overtime allowances, insurance, medical expenses and any other cushy nonsense.”
That cushy nonsense was outlined in our work contracts, in case he’d forgotten.
“I will be your go-to person for any questions or problems you may encounter. The president is on the campaign trail and is not to be disturbed under any circumstances. Can I have a confirmation that you’ve understood this?”
“Any particular reason?” Not that I wanted to talk to Danziger anyway. The shrivelled old toad wasn’t just blunt like this guy. He was vindictive as well.
“None that needs to be known.”
“Any that I need to know?”
He gave me a cocky bastard look. “No, except that the press needs to be kept out of this.”
“The press?”
“Yes, Mr Wilson. I know that you are an expert at turning the press against the president, but one word to them and you’ll find yourself a persona non grata.”
“I have to say that I’m really impressed by these threats.”
“Good, because I’d hate to have to carry them out.”
“I was joking.”
“I was not.” His face remained unemotional. He nodded stiffly. “You can go. The plane is waiting.”
There were a thousand things I wanted to say. That I wasn’t anyone’s lackey. That I objected to being treated like this. That he could stick the last few weeks of my contract in an uncomfortable place, and that I didn’t need the job.
But that would be ignoring the fact that I could see that this could become a very nasty problem indeed, and that I couldn’t think of anyone else that Nations of Earth had access to who would handle this sensibly.
So I made some sort of lame greeting and left.
Outside the room, I caught up with Thayu and Nicha. They fell into step with me and said nothing while we were accompanied down the hallway by two Nations of Earth guards. I was glad that they were too cautious to speak, because they would surely scold me. I felt like a naughty boy being taken for rubbish pickup duty after a scolding by the headmaster.
“I’ve contacted the hotel,” Nicha said. “Let’s go and have breakfast.” We usually stayed at the Central.
The steel doors to the underground entrance opened. The vehicle was still waiting in the concrete bunker. One of the guards rushed to open the door.
Nicha wanted to take the front seat, but a guard told him not to, so all three of us got into the back seat, the guard shut the door and got into the front seat. I shut the glass partition behind the front and back benches.
I said in a low voice, “We’re not going to the hotel.”
They both gave me sharp looks.
“We’re going straight Africa.” And when they said nothing, I added, “How much did you hear?”
“Not much. The door was shut most of the time. Feeders don’t work in that bunker.” Nicha had lived in London and understood Isla. “So I can’t say that I understand the issue or why we should become involved.”
The car started moving.
Nicha spread his hands. “I mean, this weapon-smuggling business has been going on for so long, Asto would have gotten the smugglers long ago if Nations of Earth had shown any interest in meeting them halfway about their conditions for entering member status.”
That old chestnut again. I said, “Yes, it has gone on for so long, and you’re right about the agreement, but it looks like we’ve got a new brand of arms smuggler active on Earth. That weapon he showed you was part of a haul that was intercepted accidentally in Djibouti.”
“So. People are smuggling weapons. What’s new?” He sounded seriously cranky. I guessed he’d been looking forward to a nice breakfast at the hotel.
“They don’t want this to become another Kazakhstan.” I explained in a few sentences what Dekker had told me.
Both of them listened but remained oddly quiet. No, I knew that they didn’t want me to become involved. Heck, I didn’t want to become involved, or at least not under the conditions—or lack of them—outlined by Dekker.
“We have to do something. What do you know about Coldi involvement in Kazakhstan?”
“That the whole rebellion was fed by the Zhori clan of Asto and that they sold weapons that outperformed anything the local rebel groups had,” said Nicha. “And that this made the conflict particularly hard to contain. None of the troops sent to quash the rebellion were prepared for what they were fighting.”
The doors to the bunker opened. The car went through and slowly moved down the side alley. Guards on either side of the entrance greeted the car’s driver.
I thought of the reports that came out of Kazakhstan at the height of the trouble. I’d been studying on Mars so only the most important headlines made it through, but I remember the one that said, Is this another world war? It would have been fairly clear-cut if the Zhori hadn’t decided that they weren’t getting enough money and started selling arms to the troops who came to fight the rebellion as well. Except the rebels always seemed to have slightly better weapons. The conflict was endless, marked by regular raids by Nations of Earth troops to clean the area of alien armaments, which were always incomplete, and hurt the soldiers of whichever country had drawn the short straw in providing the peacekeeping troops. And some of those countries, in turn, decided to put an end to the conflict. And the Zhori sold weapons to all of them. Far too many countries got involved and burned their fingers.
“We don’t want another Kazakhstan,” I said in a low voice. “We don’t want another block on the Exchange as happened after Sirkonen’s murder. That’s why we have to be involved.”
He shrugged. “You’re the diplomat.” As if it was all my fault.
“Nich’, I don’t want to do this either, but if I don’t help the current acting president, he will send his own clowns and that is sure to lead to fireworks.”
Nicha blew out a breath. He leaned forward on his knees and shook his head. Then he reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “Just my luck, to be teamed with the most impressionable sook in all of gamra.”
Coming from Nicha, that was a compliment. Coldi and most other gamra people w
ere baffled and fascinated by Earth people and their propensity to do things for other people without obvious gain to themselves.
Nicha’s remark dissolved the tension between us. I was an impressionable sook and, apparently, that was OK.
“Why did we have to see him in that shelter?” Thayu asked a bit later.
I shrugged. I wasn’t sure myself. “Because Danziger was upstairs and was not to be disturbed? Or maybe a more mundane reason, such as that upstairs was being cleaned and was therefore not secure.”
“Where was the president?” Nicha asked.
“In bed, Dekker said.”
Nicha snorted. A Coldi leader would never let important things be done by assistants. Ezhya would have been there himself, bedtime or not. “Maybe Danziger is scared of us.”
We chuckled at that, remembering when we’d barged into his office, with Ezhya posing as a security guard, to go through his files. That had been glorious. Stupid, but very satisfying.
Nicha asked further, “Does the president know about the meeting you just had with his aide?”
I was going to say Of course he does because that was protocol, wasn’t it? “I presume he does. I can’t see why he wouldn’t.” But damn it, did he know? Dekker had made me promise specifically that I wouldn’t contact Danziger. I’d assumed that it was because he was busy with the election campaign, but it might be because he didn’t know about this problem. That was a disturbing thought.
Thayu voiced my worry. “Why wouldn’t he know about it? Because, as I understand this election thing, his job depends on how many people like him. Let’s just say that he was a nice person and treated people fairly, which far too many people seem to believe that he does. Then he’d try to make sure that he continues to be seen as a nice person. That means he can’t get involved with wars where people get killed and where, whatever he does, many people will always think that he’s done the wrong thing. Well, I’m just judging by the mess that went on with this Kazakhstan place. If a conflict or scandal breaks out just before the election, he’ll lose popularity and people won’t vote for him. So his subordinates use you to fix up the mess behind his back. That means in case it all blows up in their faces, and in your face, your president knew nothing.”
