by Lee Correy
Don Tomason piped up, “What’s their bid?”
“Far below anything we can match,” Sinclair reported, “but their terms may give us leverage.”
“Let me guess,” young Tonol Kokat of ComBank said. “The Soviets own the powersats and lease them to China.”
“You’re close,” Trip replied. “Leaseback.”
“Very interesting!” Kariander Dok mused. “The Soviets build the powersats and China pays for them. China then leases the powersats back to the Soviets and receives monthly rentals from the Soviets. But, in the meantime, China pays delivered power charges from powersats it already owns. Why? What advantages are mere for both parties in that arrangement?”
“The only one I can see is that SovBank may loan China the up-front money at their usual percentage so China doesn’t tie up capital it could use for other purposes,” Tonal Kokat observed.
“There’s also a military reason,” I interrupted because I was the military advisor and felt I should. “China may own the powersats, but the Soviets will control them. This makes the powersats unavailable to China for military use. Soviet thinking always considers military implications. But don’t worry; the Chinese won’t take the Soviet offer. They distrust the Russians—not the Soviets, but the Russians. There’s a difference. The Russians took the Amur Penninsula away from them and China hasn’t forgotten; China wants it back. And China hasn’t forgotten that the Soviets came out on top of Space War One.”
“Space War One?” Kariander asked.
“The Sino-Soviet Incident,” I corrected myself.
Trip Sinclair went on, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Soviet offer is only one reaction to our powersat ploy. Rockland/Incomp/ Philips/Offenhauser ConsortCorp, resurfaced yesterday as the conglomerated Tripartite tool. Good old Rip-Off is back in business. The Word on the Street and in the Club indicates that Rip-Off intends to offer China a package of coal-fired plants.”
“China hasn’t got easily-mined coal,” Shaiko Stoak said.
“But the United States does,” Trip reminded him. “Scrape it off the western desert, pump it as a slurry through a pipe to a tanker on the West Coast, then ship it across the Pacific. It’s the modern version of the Orient trade that’s obsessed Americans for two hundred years.”
“I’m not worried about American competition,” Don Tomason scoffed. “We offer non-polluting solar power without stack residues or problems with foreign resource allocations.”
“Worry about it,” Sinclair advised him. “What’s the design life of a powersat?”
“Thirty years nominal; fifty years with up-dating.”
“I understand a coal plant has the same,” the Houston attorney told him. “And in thirty years, the whole situation will change—politically, technologically, and economically. Rip-Off will offer a powersat follow-on option. Knowing them, it will be a refurbished powersat now on-line but life-cycled and uneconomical in hi-tech by twenty-seventy. Worry about the Rip-Off proposal, Don. The Tripartite has the financial clout to make it attractive to the Yellow Peril.”
“And the Tripartite would just love to get the Yellow Peril locked into an OPEC-style coalcartel, wouldn’t it?” Shaiko Stoak of Commonwealth Glaser muttered.
“So what are your plans?” Trip wanted to know.
“Ladies and gentlemen, any suggested change resulting from this information?” Rayo asked the convocation.
“No,” Don Tomason put in quickly. “We’ve thought this through carefully. This is no time to make changes.”
“I don’t like any financial arrangement that bypasses ComBank and Chiawuli International,” Tonol Kokat objected.
Vaya Delkot snapped back, “Tonol, you’re using scarcity-economics thinking again! Don’t worry about your share. A dozen other low-tech countries will step up to get delivery positions on Commonwealth powersats when the word gets out, and you’ll be involved.”
I stood up to get and hold attention, a trick I’d learned in conducting Aerospace Force briefings. “Maybe I’m too locked into scarcity-economics thinking, but so are our adversaries. So I don’t understand why you’ve convinced yourselves that the Tri-partite or the Hegemony, real or not, would come head-to-head with you and not try to win by any means at their disposal.”
I started to walk around the table as I spoke, passing behind each of them and forcing them to turn in their chairs to follow me. “Thus far, we’re doing very well fighting an energy war.”
I stopped, put my hands on my hips, and stated, “But that doesn’t mean we’ll win. The Tripartite powersat companies can’t continue to pull plugs on small countries to whip them into line. When they see what we’re doing, they’ll shift to other forms of warfare. Let’s look at their possible responses and our vulnerabilities. How about economic warfare?”
“We’re not vulnerable,” Rayo Vamori countered. “We’re self-sufficient. We may lose some foreign trade with Tripartite organizations, but we’ll pick up others who’ve never liked being Tripartite underlings. We’ll survive. South Africa did. So did Nicaragua, Chile, the Philippines, Pakistan, and a few more.”
“The Tripartite knows that,” I said. “Your adversaries aren’t stupid. Don’t fall into that trap. You’re may be underestimating their next move. They discovered we won’t knuckle under, so they’ll start to play rough. Are we ready to play rough, too?”
Rayo Vamori coughed. “Sandy, we anticipate the possibility of military action against the Commonwealth. Defense plans and programs have considered all possible assaults that could be mounted against us from our four neighbors.”
“Or from space,” Ali added.
“There won’t be any military activity for some time yet. The Tripartite hasn’t exhausted its non-military options,” Vaivan insisted.
“Suppose the Tripartite decides the options are invalid because of our response to date? Suppose they resort to armed conflict next?” I walked back around the table and resumed my seat, telling them as I did so, “They’ll choose the time, place, and method, but they’ll need a pretext. What do your plans say about where they’ll create an incident?”
“They’ll do it in space with powersats so it appears to be a military threat from the Commonwealth.” Ali said firmly.
I shook my head. “No, that won’t suit their purposes. It’s remote from people. Forget any space incident. It will happen here on the ground where people will get killed and property damaged or destroyed, where telenews can cover it in all its gore. And they’ll make it look like you started it.”
Kariander Dok laughed. “That’s incredible! Why would we attack any Tripartite interests? How could we attack them? We have an old folk story about a brave mouse and a lion…”
“Spare me,” I told him. “All cultures have folk stories and most of them are misleading because they’re intended to teach only the young. I know we wouldn’t attack; it’s contrary to the Commonwealth’s basic principles. But the rest of the world doesn’t know because the rest of the world doesn’t understand abundancy-economics. The next move of the Tripartite will be armed conflict fought on our territory to occupy the time and effort of our leadership and drain our resources away from any competitive powersat programs.”
There was again silence throughout the group in the underground conference room.
Finally, Kariander Dok asked Shaiko, “What does General Vamori have to say about this?”
I was growing to dislike this big, fat man with his pudgy little face and supercilious manner. “The General’s still recovering from his burns,” I answered. “I’m his deputy.”
“Why didn’t The General deputize you, Alichin?” Tonol Kokat asked pointedly.
“Because Sandy’s an educated professional military man whereas I’ve served only a three-year hitch in the Airlmpy. Sandy’s a pro; I’m not,” Ali told him. “My expertise is in marketing and operating space activities, not war.”
“Your grandfather was no military man when he beat Chase,” Tonol pointed out.
“
He had no alternative. He didn’t have a man like Sandy Baldwin. I do.”
“This man could be another Chase.” Tonol Kokat kept the pressure on.
Alichin came to his feet, his hand on the hilt of his still-scabbarded iklawa.
I knew a bit more about Commonwealth customs. I was on my feet, too, my hand grasping my own iklawa. I didn’t draw it. I reached out and laid my left hand on Ali’s shoulder.
“Please, Ali. He didn’t refer to you.”
Ali shook his head. “No!” he spat out. There was fire in his eyes and I barely detected him shaking slightly.
I was trembling too, but it was from adrenalin pumping through me. This was my first encounter in the Commonwealth, the first time someone had insulted me in public. It had been done at a very high level, so I had to follow through.
“Sandy, he implied that Landlimo Corporation—myself, in particular—brought you to the Commonwealth to lead a coup!” Alichin went on, breathing hard. “The privilege is mine!”
Kokat had risen slowly to his feet, but his hand didn’t drop to his iklawa. He was older than I. He would have been easy to take, but I hoped I wouldn’t be forced to fight. I had to maintain a front, so I growled at him, “Tonol Kokat, I came to the Commonwealth in response to a call for help.”
“Chase came as a mercenary,” Kokat reminded me.
“Chase was a looter, a man on horseback, a modern Attila.” Alichin put in. “He came to help our forefathers put our own house in order. Sandy didn’t. You don’t know American military philosophy. Sandy’s trained to take orders from civilians. He’s doing the job we asked him to do. Retract your words, Kokat!”
Heinrich von Undine reached up and touched Kokat. “Tonol, my friend, the time isn’t right. You have great responsibilities…”
“Yes, Tonol,” Kariander Dok added. “And how long has it been since you’ve drawn? An apology wouldn’t wound you as severely as Baldwin’s iklawa. I believe you were reacting only to the possibility of someone repeating our great national trauma of fifty years past.”
Kariander Dok was a soothing arbitrator.
Ali was reluctant to disengage. “Kokat, you’ve also insinuated that my grandfather did wrong because he appointed Sandy as his deputy. Defend yourself or retract your words!”
The banker looked around. His hand still hadn’t touched his iklawa which was primarily ornamental and decorative. Around the room, nobody moved. It was obvious he didn’t have the support of those present, although the rules probably kept them from interfering.
Kariander Dok may have acted on the very edge of propriety, but perhaps an attempt at arbitration was allowed.
It was Rayo Vamori who broke the impasse. “Tonol, we have more important things to attend to. Our families and our nation are at stake. They take precedence. Would you withdraw your remark?” Rayo Sabinos Vamori could well have taken issue himself.
Everyone knew it was the Rayo’s father and his son who were part of Kokat’s insinuation.
Tonol Kokat looked directly at me and, with a total absence of emotion in his voice, said, “I withdraw my remark but reserve the right to hold a private opinion until events either prove me right or wrong. If right, I’ll take action to protect our families and our nation. If wrong, I’ll apologize then.” And he sat down.
I sat down, too, as did Ali.
I was astounded at my own actions. I’d never believed what my father believed. I’d let it all hang out as far as possible in the air and in space, and I’d even burned a Soviet. I didn’t like one-on-one hand-to-hand. Yet I’d reacted to a personal challenge, had almost drawn my iklawa, and was strangely happy that nothing had happened. At twenty-eight years of age, was I beginning to show the inevitable signs of an aging tiger?
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve received some new information here today and discussed some new possibilities,” Rayo Vamori remarked. “Any comments?”
“Bid the Hong Kong deal,” Vaya Delkot said.
“As low as possible,” Wahak added.
“Underbid if we have to,” Shaiko put in.
“Underbid it? We can’t stay in business doing that!” Don Tomason objected. “We’ll lose money, and it can’t be made up in volume.”
“Yes, it can,” Wahak reminded him. “Our low bid will attract those who lose Tripartite space power. If we build twenty low-cost powersats to satisfy demand, that’s cheaper thanbuilding five because we can spread fixed costs. Run the numbers.”
“You may be right,” Don admitted.
Emika Kom of the Pitoika Drydock and Ship Company looked at me. “Rayo, in view of what Sandy told us, I’d like to have him get together with Defense Commissioner Hannu Abiku and his staff.”
“Yes,” Kohatu Tatri of CommTrans agreed, “our deputy military advisor has some points well taken.”
I never got out of the mountain that day. Alichin made a call from the meeting room, and the next thing I knew he was guiding me through rock-lined corridors in an electric car to yet another excavated cavern.
This one bore a sign over its entrance, “Commonwealth Defense Commission, Vershatets Redoubt Headquarters.”
“It’s about time,” I said to Ali.
“Why?”
“I should have come here earlier.”
“When would that have been, Sandy?” Ali asked. “We took The General to Ell-Five the same day you arrived here, you’ve been on Earth once since on a down-and-back packet run, and we got here only hours ago.”
Sometimes when things happen fast, I tend to forget simple sequences, to say nothing of time periods. It seemed that I’d been on Earth for days.
Again, another conference room, but this one with a decidedly military feel. There was no round table where everyone sat as equals. There were six console desks facing a wall which had situation display screens and another console desk in front of it.
“War room,” Ali said curtly.
Six people followed us into the room. Five wore the first Commonwealth military uniforms I’d seen, and these were obviously Type B Garrison or its equivalent because they were plain, working clothes with only small badges of rank. Each uniform was slightly different.
Alichin performed the introductions, and more names got thrown at me, some of which I didn’t fully recall at the time although I knew Commonwealth people considered all three of their names important because it indicated family linkages and lines.
Hannu Chuili Abiku wasn’t in uniform because he was the Defense Commissioner directly responsible to President Conobabi Nogal.
The others were the commanders of the five impys or military services: Airlmpy Induno Tanana Pinala Dati must have been a fighter pilot because of her small size.
Landlmipy Induno Nenana Husila Pahtu’s necklace medallion told me she was an armor weaponeer. Coastlmpy Induno Naco Yumi Shokutu with classical naval shoulder boards of rank framing his otherwise broad shoulders; his sword didn’t look out of place with his white naval uniform.
The uniform of Spaclmpy Induno Eloy Minto Chervit followed the old tradition that military dress derives from battle gear; his white drop suit was well-tailored.
Induno Kivalina Soldata Moti was an older woman in charge of something new to my military experience: the Commonwealth’s citizen reserve, the Citlmpy of more than a million people.
Alichin gave me a promotion in introducing me. “Deputy Induno Sandy Baldwin, formerly of the United States Aerospace Force Academy Class of Forty-One.” I didn’t know what my new rank was.
The introductory greetings of each were polite but curt. It was obvious they’d been called from their daily work for this impromptu meeting. Ali had undoubtedly used the considerable political clout of his grandfather.
They didn’t waste any time but sat down behind their console desks. The Commissioner motioned Ali and I to the lectern in front of the wall display screens. “Alichin, this is your request. Please proceed.”
Ali stepped to the lectern. “Thank you for taking the time from your schedule
s to meet with us. Induno Baldwin’s vitae are available at your consoles. General Vamori has appointed him his deputy for the duration of the former’s rehabilitation. We’ve just come from a meeting of the C-Cubed Directors, and here’s the current situation.”
Without visual aids, Alichin outlined the powersat and commercial-financial situation.
The people responsible for the defense of the Commonwealth listened carefully. Some took notes on their desk keypads. Others called up various items of data on their VDTs.
There was a VDT next to the offstage chair in which I sat. I queried the library computer.
The rank of “induno” was that of a general officer, but there was only one General in the Commonwealth, the title now being the highest possible national honor. Ali had booted me up several ranks in one sentence. I hoped he had the authority, but I wasn’t going to argue.
“Induno Baldwin has analyzed the economic and military situation. As a recently naturalized Commonwealth citizen, he brings us a fresh, objective viewpoint based on his expertise in military science,” Ali went on following his situation briefing. “He believes we’re faced with military action sooner than anticipated and in a different manner than previously considered. The C-Cubed Directors believe this, too, which is why we’re here. Sandy, take over and tell them what you told C-Cubed.”
Ali found a chair at one side of the room, leaving me the lectern.
I had no notes, no prepared briefing, and no visual aids.
One of my most valuable Academy courses had been a required three-credit seminar called “Briefings 301.” It was known to be a nut-buster, but I’d loved it! At each class session, one cadet was chosen at random and given a situation whose data he could call up on his VDT. He had ten minutes to acquaint himself with the situation. Then he had to present a thirty-minute briefing to the class. Following this, he had to open the briefing to questions. To the rest of the cadets in the classroom, it was a grand game of playing generals out to poke as many holes as possible in the briefing by asking questions. If the class wasn’t rough on the briefer, the instructor would break in to make it rough. If the briefer bobbled it, or if the class could find critical data that hadn’t been included in the verbal briefing, the briefer “crashed and burned” for the day but had the opportunity to try again later. The course taught me to think fast, talk convincingly, and never use the old advice, “If you can’t convince them, confuse them.”
