New Title 1

by Jordan, Steven Lyle

  “Finish your packing,” Calvin admonished his daughter as he passed by her room. “If we’re fast, we can be out of here in—” He stopped speaking when he reached his bedroom. There, next to his half-finished backpack, was his wife’s pack, which had not been started. “Oh, jeez,” he whispered, then, in a louder voice, “Maria!”

  “Well, I had to finish getting the food together, didn’t I?” Maria was already at the door, stepping past her husband almost before he knew she was there, and opening the first dresser drawer on her side of the room. “Besides, it’s not as if that park is going anywhere, is it?”

  Calvin wisely avoided commenting, and set to work finishing his own packing.

  He had his pack about finished, when Erin, with her frighteningly larger pack, shuffled by the bedroom. “Mom, did you pack the hotdogs?”

  “Honey,” Maria protested gamely, “you have to eat more than hotdogs on this trip!”

  “We’re going camping, Mom!—”

  “They’re made of tofu and mushrooms, they’re hardly hotdogs at all,” Calvin muttered to himself, just as the com beeped on the nightstand. “Agh—” He stepped around the bed to reach for the com, thinking, that Clegg, he knows I’m going on vacation, if he wants the report tweaked, he knows he can give it to Bailey and she’ll polish it up… he bent over and hit the answer button. “Clegg, just give it to Bailey, she’ll take care of it—”

  “Dr. Rios? This is the Ceo’s office.”

  Calvin froze, then winced and pursed his lips. He looked down at the com’s screen, where it displayed the unmistakable ident of the CnC. After a pause, he said, “Sorry… yes, this is Dr. Rios.”

  “The Ceo urgently requests your presence at a meeting with the President of the United States this morning.”

  “This morning?” Calvin repeated.

  “At ten hundred,” the voice said. Calvin didn’t recognize the voice… but he knew no one would be crazy enough to spoof a call from the Ceo’s office. Not even the jokers he worked with. “The Ceo and the President will be discussing the situation on Earth caused by Yellowstone. He needs you as scientific advisor to represent Verdant’s position.”

  Calvin did not want to speak. A small sound alerted him to his daughter, standing in the bedroom threshold. He could see his wife standing behind her, almost but not quite hidden around the corner.

  Before he could reply, to the com or to his family, the com spoke again: “Is there a problem, Dr. Rios?”

  Calvin winced again, and said through clenched teeth, “No. No problem.” He allowed his face to relax, and allow the resignation to seep in. “I’ll be there at ten hundred.”

  “The Ceo requests you be there at least ten minutes sooner,” the com stated.

  “Of course,” Calvin said.

  “Thank you, Doctor.” The com went silent.

  Calvin keyed off the com, and straightened up. Slowly he turned, to face his wife and daughter. Erin’s face looked upset; Maria’s face was… something different… he sighed, hoping that it would effectively convey his displeasure of the situation. “Um… well, hopefully, it’ll just be a few hours’ delay. We can still get out of here by this afternoon.”

  Erin’s face screwed up. “We won’t have time for the hike!”

  Maria immediately stepped forward. “Now, honey, we’ll get some hiking in,” she said, draping her arms around her daughter’s shoulders. “It’s a fairly benign hike, as it is. We won’t miss much.” Erin’s face changed perceptively, her disappointment slowly changing to anger. She was about to turn on her mother, but before she could, Calvin stepped forward and took his daughter’s shoulders in his hands.

  He kissed his daughter on the forehead, and said, “Don’t fret, honey, we’ll just be late. It’ll be fine!” He reached over and gave his wife a peck on the cheek, and said, “I’d better get ready.” He gave them both a squeeze, then turned and opened his closet.

  Just let me get out of here in time—

  ~

  The tram deposited Calvin a floor below the CnC at fifteen minutes before ten. He’d almost missed that one, in the time it had taken him to change into more business-suited clothing, then attempt to soothe his daughter’s ruffled feathers before he left. Not that it would have helped, as he’d just left Erin and Maria alone to stew over another trip to the park, and that was not a good situation. It seemed that, as much as Erin loved spending weekends and overnights in the Verdant parks, Maria seemed to be developing a growing loathing for it. It had become a constant battle with her, even to get her to come… the parks were simply not good enough for her.

  “Not as good as Earth,” she would say.

  “What Earth? Where on Earth?” would be his inevitable retort. There simply were no more pristine or virgin forests, no places where the air wasn’t noticeably less than clear and blue, the temperature wasn’t a bit too hot to make even a forest’s shade comfortable, no coastlines that were fit to swim in. Unless, of course, you counted the pathetically few still-clean places that were now under governmental lock and key, to prevent wherever possible further damage being done to them by humans.

  “Find us a nice place to go,” he would say, “and we’ll go.” Anything to make her happy, translation, to stop her going on and on about it. And to her credit, Maria did look. But whatever she found always turned out, upon even a cursory inspection, to be restricted, submerged, fetid, or just plain gone. It had been decades since most of those places were habitable or even open… Calvin doubted even Maria had actually been to such a place in her childhood, though she always insisted that she had, no, I don’t remember the name, it was somewhere near Raleigh, or near the Ozarks, you know, that place…

  It was making their time together more and more difficult, and that was making Calvin more and more short-tempered by the day. And for a media personality, being short-tempered was decidedly not an asset. Even now, as he rushed up the stairs to the CnC floor and found a moving sidewalk to speed his progress, he could not stop thinking about what this crisis, this worldwide crisis he was being summoned to discuss with the leaders of Verdant and the United States, would ultimately do to his marriage…

  “Dr. Rios?”

  The voice of one of the CnC’s interns interrupted his reverie as he approached the CnC offices. “Oh, hi, Red. Have they started?”

  “Not yet, sir,” the intern replied, turning her body to the left. Her bright red pony-tailed hair invited him to follow. “They wanted me to bring you to conference room four when you arrived.”

  “Four?” That was one of the larger conference rooms. “Are we meeting with all of Congress, too?”

  The intern grinned slightly. “I don’t think it’s a large group, Doctor. It’s a security thing, I think.”

  Of course, Calvin mused: The President needed his security, and room four was best equipped with room for guards, cameras, and emergency exits. Dismissing that thought, then, his mind turned back to his own issues for a moment, and a new idea occurred to him. “Did anyone call Dr. Silver? I’d think she’d be more qualified than I to talk to the President about Verdant.”

  “I heard they couldn’t reach her… or she couldn’t get away in time, or something.” Red looked back at him apologetically. I’m just taking you where they told me to take you. She looked like she was considering offering to find out for him, though he knew that it was not really in her job description to cater to him.

  “S’okay,” he said simply, and shrugged it off.

  They arrived at the entrance to conference room four, where two healthy-looking men in black suits stood at either side of the double-door. When they saw him, one of them stepped forward with a hand scanner. “Dr. Rios?” Calvin nodded, extending his hand and placing his thumb upon the silvered oval of the scanner. After a second’s pause, a friendly-sounding series of beeps sounded, and the security man nodded. “Go on in.”

  Calvin was only partially surprised that the President was not already there when he opened the door. Inside, Ceo Julia
n Lenz, Eo Reya Luis and Coo Aaron Hardy were already seated at one side of the table, Lenz in the middle of the three. “Morning,” Calvin said, and walked over to that side of the table, pulling up a chair next to Reya Luis at the far side.

  “Good morning, Doctor,” Julian greeted him directly, while the other two nodded. They were all familiar with each other, Calvin being the Verdant Science Advisor… not really an official position, but a public and prestigious one. The Director of Science on Verdant was Dr. Jacqueline Silver, and Calvin was still amazed that she was not here … but lacking her availability, he was usually next to be called for public or policy issues. “I assume,” Julian said once Calvin was seated, “that you’re familiar with the goings-on on Earth?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Calvin replied sadly, mentally shifting into professional mode. “Things are going to be pretty rough for awhile. For everyone.”

  “Yes,” Julian agreed. “The President just got off-planet himself before air traffic was officially grounded over all of North America. He may be here for awhile, too. And while he is, we expect him to renew his efforts to increase immigration quotas to the satellites, especially this one and Tranquil.”

  “And ignore the facts?” Calvin asked. “Reputable scientists, the satellite GLISes, and every IS that has examined the issue say that the satellites are already above sustainable human capacity. Do they really think turning the sats into orbiting cattle-cars is going to help matters?”

  “Doctor,” Reya spoke up next to him, “as far as we can determine, Earth may be stacking up bodies like cordwood soon. I don’t think looking for any way out will be beyond their interest… even if it’s not an optimum one.”

  “We need to be firm,” Julian added. “We need to be able to give them the facts, and make clear why they must be followed… or we’ll be crash-landing this satellite on their doorstep, whether they like it or not.”

  “I think it’s fair to say they wouldn’t be pleased about that,” Calvin agreed.

  “So: You’re our Man of Reason today,” Julian said. “Be ready to be eloquent.”

  Calvin smiled. “What happened to Dr. Silver?”

  “Unavoidably detained,” Aaron volunteered. Apparently he felt he needed to supply more info, so he added: “She was sealed up in a clean room when we called. Hopefully she’ll be out soon enough to get here.”

  There was a commotion outside, felt more than heard through the conference walls. A moment later, the double-doors opened, and President Lambert walked into the room, followed closely by Enu Thompson and Harley, the staffer. On unspoken cue, everyone rose when the President entered. Two Verdant security guards followed them in, and took places at either side of the door, mirroring the American secret service men outside. Lambert started around the table, and Ceo Lenz met him halfway, the two leaders shaking hands warmly. Though the title Ceo, due to its commercial roots, was generally less officious-sounding than a state title, as far as the U.N. was concerned, a Ceo of the satellites, being sovereign territories, were equal in stature to the President or any other country’s ruler. Lambert and Julian exchanged the usual pleasantries, then Julian re-introduced Eo Luis and Coo Hardy to him. He concluded with an introduction to Calvin Rios.

  “Dr. Rios,” Lambert smiled, shaking Calvin’s hand after Aaron’s. “I’ve seen your news reports.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Calvin replied noncommittally to a matter-of-fact statement, but had not expected more, so he smiled graciously.

  In turn, the President re-introduced Thompson to the Verdant side of the table. Calvin was meeting Thompson for the first time, and he noted a strong handshake from the intense-looking African. Lambert then introduced the staffer, Harley, who seemed reasonably at-ease in the room full of political heavyweights… or perhaps just too preoccupied with the reason he was there to worry about matching his credentials against theirs. They all sat down, and by custom, the leaders poured water into glasses and exchanged them; each took a sip, then allowed the others to help themselves.

  “Are any of the latest ground reports encouraging?” Julian asked as an opening.

  “I’m afraid not so good,” Lambert replied. “The weather patterns are going crazy, all through North America. The ash has caused some freak storms, some of them with severe winds and lightning, and they’ve done a lot of spot damage. And the larger ash particles are already doing damage of their own. The Great Plains wind farms are trying to trim for extreme weather, but frankly, they weren’t built for volcanic bombardment. Even if this thing ended tomorrow, it would take us years to clean up some of the damage we’ve already had.”

  “And,” Calvin interrupted, “are geologists giving any idea yet when they think it might end?”

  “None,” Thompson replied. “Some of them suggest we may have been better off with one big eruption, instead of this constant stream. And you can’t get any of them to commit to an estimate of duration. They think the final effect will be much more widespread.”

  “And they are probably right,” Calvin confirmed. “Pre-existing weather patterns will have time to carry the ash further. A single eruption would create damage that was bad, but more localized. A constant outflow could potentially impact the entire planet.”

  “We’re all in a bind now,” the President said. “This is going to affect materials and goods transfer between the ground and the satellites.”

  “Our major economic engine,” Julian added. The importing of raw materials and supplies to the satellites, and the exporting of products that were most efficiently made in orbit, constituted the primary trade between the ground and the satellites, and played a major part in keeping their joint economies rolling. With curtailed trade, the economies of both satellites and ground nations were going to be problematic at best. “We’ve already made arrangements to scale back factory operations, in expectation of that. We’re also talking to vendors about ballistic deliveries, for the time being. Maybe you can help with that.”

  Lambert nodded. Sending shipments via ballistic rockets, essentially robotic guided missiles, was not as efficient, and they could not carry as much, as the big freighters, and everyone at the table knew this. It would suffice for small and emergency supplies, but not well, and not for long. “I’ll try to allocate additional resources to the ballistics manufacturers. Given the state of the atmosphere, we probably can’t expect those ballistics to last for more than a few flights. That’ll be tough, too.”

  “Perhaps,” Thompson said, “it would be a good idea to provide us with your list of priority items. That way, we can concentrate our efforts to bolster shipments where it will do you the most good.”

  “We can do that,” Aaron nodded. “And we’d be glad to prioritize our factory production towards your most critical needs … provided, of course, that we can get the raw materials.”

  “I foresee the need to balance our needs and your needs against the available cargo space on the ballistics,” Thompson stated. “That’s going to be difficult.” Here it comes, Calvin mused. “We might be able to help each other here, though… possibly an easing on expected product shipments from Verdant, in exchange for other concessions, to be named later.”

  “Maybe we should name them now,” Julian suggested coolly.

  Julian and Thompson locked eyes. Aaron, ever the stumbling diplomat, tried to help. “After all, we may need to start planning now for future changes to operations or resource allocation. We—”

  “We’d like to see an easing of immigration quotas,” Thompson cut Aaron off. “Effective as soon as the flight restrictions are over.”

  Julian continued to look at Thompson, and his expression lightened slightly, as if he was glad the real subject of the meeting was now out in the open. Aaron, already chastened by being interrupted, did not reply. Reya simply glanced expectantly at Calvin, and that was all the indication he needed that the ball was in his court.

  “Mister Thompson, you know the data as well as we do,” Calvin started. “Your ISs and ours have al
l come to the identical conclusions: Verdant, Tranquil, Fertile and Qing, being limited biospaces, and designed as independently unsustainable as it is, are already over designed occupational capacity. They are drawing more resources than they are designed to handle, and producing more waste than they are designed to reprocess, due to the overpopulation that already exists.”

  “Drawing those resources from us, I might add,” Thompson stated. “And we are accepting those waste products.”

  “Which you shouldn’t have to,” Calvin pointed out. “We should be able to reprocess and recycle our own waste products… it’s more efficient than shipping it down, and shipping more resources back. Yes, our present overpopulation means we are using more than our share of your resources, and sending you more trash besides. For all of us, it’s generating a net loss. And if we allow more people up here, it will only make things less efficient up here, which will mean more trash and less resources for you.”

  “The satellites are running in an ideal biospace situation,” Lambert pointed out. “Your use of materials and generation of waste are engineered according to that spec. But things are changing rapidly, Doctor. We can no longer afford the luxury of ideal living situations.”

  “There’s nothing ‘luxurious’ or ‘ideal’ about our living conditions,” Reya pointed out quickly, but before she could elaborate, Calvin went on.

  “Can we afford shutting down the satellites? Because they are simply not able to be retrofitted to be cattle cars.”

  “Who’s talking about cattle cars?” Thompson snapped. “We’re talking about maybe a five percent increase in immigration levels… probably just during the crisis.”

  “That would mean almost tripling our resident population within a year,” Aaron retorted quickly. If nothing else, Calvin thought, Aaron knows his numbers. “We couldn’t operate like that at all.”