“I can’t imagine why,” Stephanie said drolly. “A couple of times a week the President of Iran calls for their nuclear obliteration, swearing he’s going kill every last Jew on the planet, right after he finishes turning Israel into a radioactive parking lot. A few months ago Iran dropped an ICBM into the water just off of Cyprus, having over-flown Saudi Arabia, Jordan and Israel and the Greek portion of Cyprus.
“They fired that missile from as far to the southeast in Iran as they could get. That missile can strike any city in Europe including all the Scandinavian capitals, London and Dublin. Shooting in other directions, they could hit anywhere in the industrial heartland of Russia, including Moscow and St. Petersburg, and all the major cities in India.
“Now, the UAE, Tunisia, Morocco, Saudi Arabia, Algeria, Egypt and Turkey are developing nuclear weapons; so is Greece. Isn’t that just wonderful! I can’t imagine why the Israelis are looking for some place to move to!”
She finished, realizing belatedly that the President had expected her outburst. “Oh,” she said softly. “Now?”
“No, not quite just yet. Robot probes are robot probes.”
The President turned to Captain Gilly. “I’m still of two minds about cutting you in on this thing of Professor Kinsella’s. It’s one hundred percent political and you’re one hundred percent not, just like her. Still, you’re not a stupid man, and there are some concepts that require as many intelligent people as possible to look them over in advance to reduce the chance of mistakes.”
“If it’s political, sir, then I’d just as soon pass.”
“Well, it is definitely political. Tell me, Captain Gilly, what should the rules be when someone discovers a habitable planet? Does full ownership go to whoever orbits it first? To whoever lands first, flag in hand? Some other criteria? What happens if someone claims a planet, leaves, and someone comes along behind them with fifty thousand colonists? Possession is nine-tenths of the law and all that.”
“You’re right about that being political, sir. I’d say you should consult Congress, consult our international partners and maybe the UN.”
“Captain Gilly, the last time the US seriously consulted with the UN was on North Korea, Iran and Darfur, during the last half of the previous decade. The UN, the Europeans, Russians and Chinese dithered or obstructed right up until the Iranians tested their first weapon, two and a half years before anyone expected them to. There are no more black Muslims in southern Darfur; the people there were all slaughtered or expelled. The World Court trials for ‘crimes against humanity’ are expected to start in the next few years, and will go for ten to twenty years after that. As usual, most of the defendants will die of old age before any of those trials conclude.
“The UN and our so-called allies said, ‘Oops! Can’t do anything about Iran’s nuclear weapons now! Overkill, Mutually Assured Destruction and all that. Containment worked on the Soviet Union, it will work on Iran. Pity about those black Muslims in the Sudan.’ Now, every self-respecting country in the Middle East, the Balkans and Northern Africa have nuclear weapons programs. Need I go on, Captain?”
“No, sir, you don’t. The UN is an empty, corrupt husk.”
“Professor Kinsella has another idea entirely. As you may have noticed, she has a different way of looking at things. She sees problems in advance and works to deal with them in ways that politicians could never dream up themselves. The sovereignty thing bothered her from almost the first. So she made a proposal to me about that.
“Quite frankly, I have no intention of allowing colonial beachheads by any of a number of nations. Iran, Syria, North Korea, Libya, Cuba, Venezuela, to name the ones at the top of the list. I have already issued an Executive Order. We will have a vehicle that is interstellar capable in a month or so. It will be followed by others. If we detect a colonial attempt by any of the nations on that list, I have given orders that they are to be intercepted and the colonial vehicle destroyed.”
John Gilly’s jaw dropped. “You’d kill hundreds of innocent people?”
“Yes. Hundreds, or thousands or perhaps even tens of thousands. Those nations are cancers; they are blights on the body politic. They cannot be permitted to metastasize off this planet under any circumstance... at least if they are under the thumb of the government that sent them.”
“Give such an order and you’d be impeached. I’m not sure but what they’d be right.”
“I know. Still, we believe it’s a while away. The only sort of people who are likely to be successful colonists are their best and brightest... and who are the most likely the most disloyal. So, for the time being, we go about spreading misinformation — even resorting to old-fashioned sabotage of their Benko-Chang research.”
John turned to Stephanie. “And you had a hand in this?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “John, I have no more desire to engage in mass murder than you do. I came up with my plan with the intention of avoiding as much of that as possible. But frankly, it’s only a matter of time before one of the moonbat governments fires off something nuclear, just to show how big and tough they are.
“John, the President and I were slightly remiss in our description of that Iranian missile a while ago. I described the trajectory as it flew. Move the launch site twelve hundred miles northwest, still in Iran, along the same great circle path the missile followed and that missile would have come down on Paris.”
“That’s our thinking about what will be their first target,” the President told John. “The country least likely to retaliate... from their point of view.”
“That’s insane! The French just talk about multiculturalism and multilateralism. But when the rubber hits the road, they are like any other nation state. If the Iranians drop a nuke on Paris, the French will turn two dozen Iranian cities into glowing craters thirty minutes later.”
“Faith!” Stephanie said sarcastically. “Can you imagine that? A country that mistakes their enemy’s resolve! That’s never happened before!”
Which, of course, was the usual reason wars started.
“And Stephanie has a plan?”
“Yes, a two-fold plan. First, of course, in defense of the basic patent. Where we threaten to shoot down any Benko-Chang powered vehicle attempting to leave a country on the ban list — that is those countries we feel are cheating on license fees.”
“Those would likely be civilian vehicles, or at least claimed to be civilian.”
“And more likely they would be at least quasi-military. After the first time we shoot one down, the number of non-military passengers on such trips will decline greatly. Somebody over at MIT has come up with a gravity wave detector that detects Benko-Chang turbines out to about a thousand miles with sufficient resolution; they are improving those detectors just about every day.”
“Still, I don’t believe anyone has ever enforced a patent with lethal force before.”
“The news release of the shoot-down order will contain pictures of the aircraft impacting the World Trade Center towers, the day they came down. I do believe that people will understand. At least the Americans will. Perhaps we’ll throw in a few pictures of blown-up subway cars, getting the Spanish, the British, the Indians and the Japanese on our side.”
“Stephanie?”
“John, I said once before that I thought we should use police armed with weapons commensurate with the risk. There is no purpose for those weapons unless there is a credible belief they will be employed. Actually employing them will make for a very credible threat.”
“Mr. President, I’m not a bleeding heart liberal, or progressive or whatever they are calling themselves this year. But this will cause a lot of trouble,” John told his boss.
“So?” the President said, his voice bitter. “The threat of nuclear weapons carried on Benko-Chang platforms are an existential threat for countries like Israel. They are a dire threat to the cities of the rest of the world’s democracies. To the cities and people of the United States. I took an oath to defend them and
I intend to abide by that oath.
“It’s taken ten years more or less, for the rest of the western world to come to its senses about the jihadis, and even then, it’s still not everyone,” the President added. “But, as usual, Professor Kinsella has an idea. An attractive idea, once again coming from an angle that will take everyone by surprise.”
“What angle?” Captain Gilly asked.
“We go back to off-planet sovereignty. Let’s face it; the colonial nations back in the pre-twentieth century deserved their bad rap. They were exploitive; they were oppressive.
“The United States and our new partner, Australia, are the main western countries who were founded as colonies, and who prospered anyway.”
“I’m not sure I’d call Australia a new ally,” John observed.
“Partner, not ally.”
“The fifty-first state? That would go over like a dull thud, both here and down there in Oz.”
“Partner,” the President repeated acidly. “Three days after Ad Astra returns we’ll call an international conference. An RSVP, invitation only, conference. The US will convene the conference; the Australians will host it. Only democracies get an invitation. First thing on the agenda will be the formation of a ‘Federation of Democracies.’”
“Another UN?”
“Well, sort of. Except dictatorships, oligarchies and kleptocracies need not apply. Singapore, for instance, won’t be on the list. The People’s Republic of China won’t be, but Taiwan will be. Russia hasn’t had a fair election in ten years — they won’t make the list, either.”
“That’ll be a major can of worms, right there!” Captain Gilly exclaimed.
“Yep. So what? We’ll take a few leaves, not many, from the EU. A voluntary association of countries that meet certain criteria. Do you remember how fast Eastern Europe rushed their transitions to democracy after the Wall came down, when the Europeans announced they could join the EU if they met the criteria?”
John nodded. “And this is about off-world colonial sovereignty?”
“Yes. Stephanie is a very clever young lady. There will be no off-planet sovereignties tied back to Earth nations. They’ll be tied to the ‘Federation of Democracies’ which will be extra-territorial, everywhere.”
“How does that work?”
“If Del Webb goes out into the desert near Phoenix, Arizona and builds Sun City, Sun City isn’t under Del Webb’s sovereignty. It belongs to the US. If the Joe Dokes Company builds a city off-planet, it won’t belong to Joe Dokes, who isn’t sovereign, it’ll belong to whatever government this Federation of Democracies recognizes on the planet. There will be rules for forming representative governments that the Federation will recognize. We won’t care what sort of parliament or congress gets elected, or what the structure is, so long as the legislative branches are elected, freely and fairly in monitored elections, pass all the laws, approve executive appointments and above all, control the purse strings and taxes. Executive and judicial branch structures are optional, on the election thing, to fit the parliamentary folks.
“We provide all sorts of carrots for those who go the democratic route and sticks ranging up to quarantine for those that don’t.”
The President nodded at Stephanie. “Professor Kinsella even included a draft constitution. It’s two hundred and forty-five words shorter than the US Constitution and its current amendments... and about three percent of the hopeless European Union Constitution that they’ve tried three times to pass. Tried and failed.”
John Gilly laughed, and turned to Stephanie. “Tell me everyone is term-limited.”
“Twelve years for chief executives and senators, eight years for representatives and MPs,” Stephanie told him.
“Finestkind!”
The President looked up as his Chief of Staff returned to the room. “The others are ready in the Cabinet Room, sir.”
“Fine, we’ll be there in a moment.”
The man turned and left. John Gilly turned to the President. “And the purpose for filling me in on this?”
“Because, Captain, in a moment I’ll be in the Temple of the Pharisees, smiting the heathen priests hip and thigh. I want you to understand the subtext; the words that don’t get said... not yet anyway.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And, Captain, I expect you to roll with the punches. Between now and when Ad Astra lifts off, I have a job I want you to do, and then, twice over when you get back.”
“Whatever you want, sir. What job?”
“Oh, I think I want to surprise you,” the President told John.
Stephanie turned to John. “I apologize, John, I thought the Skunk Works thing was your idea.”
“It was, but,” the captain nodded at the President, “someone we know ran with the idea.”
“Well, I hope you like this as much as I liked that.”
“As I recall, you weren’t that thrilled.”
Stephanie beamed and stood up. “And as I recall, all’s well that ends well.”
John stood up as well and the President laughed. “Don’t you know, you’re supposed to stay seated until after I leave?”
“Life is full of unexpected surprises,” Stephanie told him with a grin. “I was six the first time my parents told me that people don’t get everything they expect.”
A few minutes later they walked into the cabinet room. This time, they were in the right order. Stephanie and Captain Gilly went in and stood behind their chairs, then, three or four minutes later, the President came in and everyone sat down.
“Normally I say a few words about the purpose of the meeting,” the President told those gathered. “Today, I’m not a happy camper. General Harrison.”
The Chief of Staff of the Air Force leaned forward. “Sir?”
“A few moments ago I rescinded your nomination to the Senate for Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. You sir, are relieved. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. Take your two deputies and the puerile idiot you put in charge of the Space Service with you, along with any Air Force officer above the rank of major in the room. Every last one of you stands relieved.”
General Harrison stood, unsure what had just happened. “Sir, I’ll obey your orders, of course, but may I know why?”
“If you don’t know why, I’ll have you court-martialed for failure to command. Tell me, General, why might I decide to cashier everyone in the Air Force chain of command of the Space Service?”
“I’m sorry about the recent failures, sir. But space is a dangerous place.”
“And the pilots who attempted the last rescue mission. In particular the pilot who went EVA. How many EVAs did that officer have under his belt?”
“I have no idea.”
“Like him, you get a goose egg. How long had that officer been in the Space Service?”
“He was one of the first Air Force pilots transferred, sir. He was quite competent.”
“He may or may not have been a competent pilot, but he was certainly wasted, General Harrison. He had zero EVAs. Can you begin to explain to any of us how a man could be assigned a mission like that with no experience? Can you explain how a man with that much time in the Space Service had no training in EVA?”
“Sir, we’re still working on procedures and policies. We’re working as fast as we can.”
“You are a simple moron, General. I’ve commanded squadrons; I’ve led pilots in battle. Every man who flew with me was well trained and competent. I planned air battles over Iraq the first time we went in. Every one of the pilots who flew those missions had thousands of hours of training. They flew missions they had practiced dozens to hundreds of times.
“And after nearly two years you’re telling me you haven’t figured out so much as that pilots might need to go outside their spacecraft? Like I said, you’re incompetent. If you don’t move your ass out the door now, I won’t care about the political fall-out for court-martialing you. What I’ll do is offer you and your deputies up as scapegoats for all the Spa
ce Service failures to date. And, if you’re convicted, you can kiss your pension goodbye. Or you can get out of my sight before I lose my temper.”
The four-star general stood and without a word walked out the door, followed by a string of minions.
The President looked down the table. “Admiral Forrester, I had also forwarded Admiral Delgado’s name for CINCPAC. I’ve also rescinded that nomination. Please, have him report to us as quickly as possible; I’ll resubmit his name for Chief of Space Operations as soon as I sit down at my desk.”
“Mr. President, Admiral Delgado is currently assigned to the Pentagon. Because of the ongoing crisis in the Middle East I asked him to prepare a briefing on assets we can switch from the Pacific to the Indian Ocean. He’s just outside, sir.”
“The next time I ask you to do something, cut the crap and just say, ‘Yes, sir!’”
The Chief of Naval Operations grimaced. “Aye, aye, sir. He’s on his way, sir.”
A few moments later Admiral Delgado entered the room. Stephanie watched him carefully, wondering if he’d notice there were no longer any Air Force blue suits in the room. Probably — he looked at the CNO and appeared to lift an eyebrow minutely. The CNO’s reply looked like a shrug. Stephanie wasn’t sure if the President was going to down-check the Navy’s boss for the idiotic response a few moments before or for being clueless now.
“Admiral Delgado, I’ve decided to change your orders,” the President said, getting right down to it. “As of this moment you’re Chief of Space Operations-designate. You’ll want to think of some names of people for your chief deputies; I’d like those names by this evening. Tomorrow morning at the latest.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” the admiral replied.
“I want your absolute top priority to be a training syllabus and its immediate implementation.”
“Yes, sir.”
Stephanie thought it was interesting that Admiral Delgado never once looked at Captain Gilly, theretofore the highest-ranking naval officer in the Space Service.
Kinsella (Kinsella Universe Book 1) Page 16
