New Title 1

by Jordan, Steven Lyle

  “Maybe not ideally,” Thompson admitted. “But under emergency conditions, we believe you can do it.”

  “Do you?” Julian cocked an eyebrow. “And how many satellites do you run, Mister Thompson?”

  “The United States provided the lion’s share of the funds to build Verdant and Tranquil,” Lambert stated.

  “Under U.N. guidance and supervision,” Julian countered. “It was not a U.S. project.”

  “We know something about how these satellites are put together,” Lambert insisted lightly, and inclined his head to Harley. Harley, in turn, held out a memory chip. “This is an emergency protocol outline that would allow Verdant to operate with as much as five times the current population.”

  Reya allowed a rude noise to escape her lips, and looked at Harley’s chip with clear disdain. Aaron simply said, “Preposterous.” Julian and Lambert regarded each other stonily for a moment, and Calvin finally took the opportunity to accept the chip that Harley held out. Reya actually threw a mean glance at him, as if even accepting the chip somehow indicated their acceptance of its implication, or their willingness to discuss anything on it. But Calvin knew the only way to refute the evidence, was to look at it in the first place.

  “We’ve taken the liberty of forwarding this to Geneva,” Thompson said.

  Reya’s eyes snapped back to Thompson, and were now noticeably cold. She was managing to live up to the embodiment of the “fiery Latin temperament,” and Calvin idly considered whether there might be some good-cop-bad-cop staging at work here. Julian, clearly the good cop in this scenario, shrugged. “Just because the U.N. has a copy, doesn’t mean we will be overridden. The satellites are sovereign territory. The U.N. does not have the right to tell us to accept larger immigration quotas.”

  “No,” Lambert agreed. “But they will know the facts. And if the U.S. finds it can no longer supply the resources we have in the past under current agreements, they will understand both sides of this story.”

  “America’s usual side of the story,” Reya cut in. “You want, we won’t give, so you invent a justification to take anyway—”

  Julian put out a hand in Reya’s direction, palm down. Reya subsided instantly, and looked to her superior, but her expression was not apologetic. “Mister President, it won’t be in either of our interests to fight over our joint resources and needs. We’ll need to work together to survive this crisis. But I’m afraid moving more people to the satellites is not the answer. Obviously I can’t speak for the other sats, but as for Verdant, we extend every desire to provide what tools, equipment and manufactured goods you need to help you get through this. But we cannot extend to compromising our safety and sustainability. After all, it won’t do to wreck our biosystem and have to bring everyone here back down there… will it?”

  Lambert regarded him evenly. “Ceo Lenz, the United States, and the world, is in a crisis situation. We need to use every means at our disposal to get us all through this crisis… and you should be aware that that will mean changes to business as usual. We will all have to sacrifice a lot… to get through this,” he finished, making a point to emphasize Julian’s words to him.

  Lambert stood up, and the rest of the table stood with him. “I’ll talk to our ballistics producers and suppliers,” he said. “I’d like to suggest you consider the data on that chip. It may go a long way towards smoothing out the rough spots.”

  “We’ll look at it,” Julian said flatly.

  ~

  At the end of the meeting, there was no shaking of hands on the way out. Lambert simply rose, nodded, turned, and headed for the door. Thompson and Harley followed him, only Harley sparing a glance behind him, which mostly rested on Calvin, before he left the room. The Verdant security guards stepped out of the room with them, and at Julian’s nonverbal cue, the last one closed the door behind him.

  The four of them sat back down at the table. Aaron was the first to speak: “Well, we knew it was coming, and there it is. They plan to blackmail us with immigrants for our supplies.”

  “Five times the population!” Reya sneered.

  Calvin shrugged at her. “They know that number’s ridiculous. They’re just hoping to get us to settle for something in the middle… like two to three times the population.”

  “Not even twice,” Aaron said. “We simply can’t manage it.” Julian looked at Calvin for a response.

  “I agree,” Calvin said without hesitation. “We couldn’t produce enough clean air for twice the population, much less run anything else. If we don’t starve first, or drown in our own sewage, it’ll only be because we asphyxiated first.”

  “They must know that,” Reya muttered. “They have the same data we have! How can they not know that?”

  “They’re desperate,” Julian stated.

  “And they don’t live in such a closed system as this,” Aaron added. “They can’t comprehend the difficulties… the delicate balances involved… because they have a whole planet to absorb their messes.”

  “Not anymore,” Reya muttered when Aaron paused. He continued on as if she hadn’t spoken.

  “They think, if they can just ship up a few extra oxygen bottles, and more shovels to clean up the crap, we’ll be all right.” Calvin did a double-take… he hadn’t expected even such a mild expletive as that to come out of Aaron’s mouth. He generally wasn’t the type to use colorful language.

  “Well, how are we going to make it clear to them?” Reya asked.

  “The only way we can,” Julian replied. “We’ll make it clear that we can’t produce goods they need without the supplies we need. If pressed, we can get supplies from other countries.”

  “But at much higher cost,” Aaron reminded him. “Few countries other than the U.S. are financially equipped to provide resources, in quantity, at a reasonable cost.”

  “Cost is cost,” Julian said. “Everyone’s going to be scrambling. If the biggest result of this global crisis is that we spend more money to get what we need… we can count ourselves damned lucky.”

  “I don’t think any of us will get off that lucky,” Calvin stated.

  The room went silent for a moment. “Probably not,” Julian finally admitted. After another moment’s pause, he turned to Calvin. “Doctor, we’re going to need to put together an official response to Geneva about that report.” He pointed at the chip in Calvin’s hand. “Specific refutations of whatever points in there that would compromise our position with the U.N. Go through it, use the GLIS to pull whatever hard data you need for your counter-report. Dr. Silver should be able to help you, so I’d advise getting to her ASAP—wherever she is,” he added, casting an impatient look at Aaron. Back to Calvin, he said, “I want at least a preliminary by tomorrow morning.”

  Calvin pursed his lips tightly. There goes the camping trip. Goodbye, family harmony. Hello, doghouse. Julian picked up on his obvious discomfort. “Yes?”

  Calvin shook his head. “Nothing, sir, just some other plans I have to break. But I understand why this takes precedence.”

  Julian nodded, and with that, the four of them rose to leave the conference room. As they walked out, Julian paused a step in order to drop a comforting hand on Calvin’s shoulder. “I’m sure your ‘other plans’ will appreciate the gravity of the situation.”

  Calvin glanced at the older man, and smiled wryly. “Been a while since you were married, hasn’t it?”

  Julian chuckled, and patted Calvin’s shoulder, allowing him to leave the room first and take a right turn that would take him away from the CnC. Once Calvin had moved off, Julian stopped, and his grin faded. Then he turned, stone-faced, and headed for CnC.

  4: Politics

  When Julian had returned to CnC, he saw Reya conferring with a small cluster of staffers in one corner, by their workstations. That group monitored Earth-based general news and communications channels… Verdant’s eyes and ears on the world below. When Reya saw Julian enter the room, she exchanged a few last words with the staffers, then met him at the
central workstation.

  “Problems?” Julian asked when she was close. He quickly amended his question: “Other than the obvious?”

  “General coms are registering a lot of talk about the satellites,” Reya explained. “Much more than usual. Talk about emigration, before it’s too late. About forcing the sats to provide aid and take on refugees. About cutting us off if we don’t.”

  “Wonderful,” Julian said, keeping his voice down and his concern muted. “Isn’t anybody down there on our side?”

  “Maybe the U.N.,” Reya replied. “But that’s just judging by their noticeable lack of response to the rest of this chatter.” Reya and Julian exchanged wry looks. “Keep in mind, these are civilians, and they don’t know anything about anything. But if they get organized enough to influence their governments…”

  Julian nodded in understanding. “Tell them to keep an eye on it,” he indicated the com staffers. “But re-assign one of them to monitoring the official traffic. Have them watch for any increased activity. Or… or a noticeable cessation of activity.”

  Reya knew what that implied: Blackouts and major changes in official com traffic often indicated an effort to hide something, like covert activities. “On a lighter note,” she continued, “there’s an indication that weather patterns are allowing an occasional negotiable hole in the atmo, large enough to get ships through. If they’re timed properly.”

  “Really?” Julian perked up a bit. “A sign that the caldera is lightening up?”

  “Don’t think so,” Reya shook her head. “We think it’s just random weather, and a little good luck, providing an air pocket or two. They may not last.”

  “Coordinate with the GAA,” Julian ordered. “Maybe we can get a little bit of traffic going. And get me a secure channel to CnC Tranquil. I’ll take it in my office.”

  By the time Julian reached his desk, an indicator blinked its readiness to make his connection. He tapped the indicator, and a screen lit up under the glass surface of the desk. A kind and familiar face looked back at him, and smiled.

  “Good morning, Lynn,” Julian greeted her. Evelyn Volov was the Ceo of Tranquil, Verdant’s sister-satellite. She was an old friend—Julian had recommended her for the position on Tranquil, and she had promptly assumed it upon the retirement of its former Ceo.

  “Morning, Jules. How are things in the north?” She opened with a familiar exchange of theirs, a running joke that extended all the way back to college, when they had been more than just friends.

  “About as well as can be expected,” Julian replied. “And how are things in the south?”

  “Could be better...” That was a different response than usual, which told Julian all he needed to know about the seriousness of the situation. “I understand President Lambert made it up to you before the flight restrictions grounded everyone.”

  “I just got out of a meeting with him, as a matter of fact,” Julian admitted. “Nice guy. Wouldn’t want to be in his shoes right now.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be in yours, hosting him. I bet I know what you talked about.”

  “You’d win the bet,” Julian nodded. The subject of satellite immigration quotas never seemed to go away, even in relatively good times—though Julian was not so sure they’d actually had any of those since the first sats had been finished—and were not likely to go away now. “Have you been getting any renewed pressure from the ground lately?”

  On the screen, Evelyn nodded sadly. “For the past two days… from seven countries and too many vendors to count. Mostly leaders and Ceos, arguing for ‘their people,’ but you can tell it’s mainly for themselves. We’re monitoring a lot of ground talk about coming up here, whether we like it or not.”

  “We’re hearing that, too,” Julian said.

  “You’re not giving in, are you?” The concern in Evelyn’s voice was genuine, but it was not simply concern for Verdant: If Verdant admitted more immigrants, others would use it as precedent to force the issue with the other sats.

  “We’re standing firm,” Julian told her. “My people are preparing reports to present to the U.N., to counter a report the U.S. sent to them arguing for increased quotas…”

  “They didn’t.”

  “Oh, yes, they did. There’s nothing to it, of course… it’s a PR document. But we have some good PR people up here, too… like Calvin Rios.”

  “The Universe 3 host?” Evelyn’s mouth opened in surprise. “I wondered what happened to that guy! He’s been on Verdant?”

  “He and his family moved here in ‘21,” Julian replied. “We’ve had him on retainer as science advisor since ‘26. He’s working on the counter-report with our Dr. Silver. I’ll be glad to send you a copy when it’s done.”

  “Please,” Evelyn nodded. “Every little bit helps. I don’t know about you, Jules… but I don’t expect this to turn out well.”

  “Right now,” Julian admitted, “I’m not optimistic, either.”

  “Have you seen the latest data from Qing? Their air quality is down to 88 percent already. But they can’t stop the Mainland from sending people up there.”

  “They’re insane,” Julian said, referring to their host country, China, as opposed to the satellite. Qing, Chinese for “Lush,” was the third satellite, commissioned and built strictly by the Chinese, for the Chinese. Unlike Verdant and Tranquil, which were constructed under a U.N. charter, Qing was considered property of China, essentially an orbital nation-state of their own. And despite data that told them otherwise, the Chinese government was well on its way to packing its citizens in there as tightly as they were packed on the ground. No one could see any outcome for Qing other than disaster… Julian did not look forward to the day he woke up and heard that the population of that sat had suffocated overnight.

  “Nothing new from Fertile?” Fertile was the fourth satellite, the last that Earth could afford, financed primarily by the last riches of the Arab oil barons, and populated mostly by Africans and Middle-Easterners. “I understand they’re still holding their own.”

  “As far as we can tell… we don’t get much news from them.” Neither did Verdant, Qing, nor the U.N.; Julian hoped that was not a bad sign of their future. As high as the international hopes for the satellite project had been originally, it was disappointing to see where reality had taken them.

  As Julian mused, Evelyn went on: “Does Verdant have any defensive capabilities?”

  “You know we don’t,” Julian replied. “It’s against the treaty.”

  “So is invasion,” Evelyn pointed out. “But I sincerely doubt most countries will let a little treaty stand in their way. As long as we’re sending documents back and forth, I’ll send you one… a study our people have prepared on this situation. Perhaps it’ll help.”

  “Every little bit,” Julian smiled. He caught something in Evelyn’s eye… something that perhaps only an old friend would have seen. “Do me a favor, and send it encrypted to me. I wouldn’t want any civilians intercepting it to be concerned.”

  “No problem,” Evelyn replied, and smiled a confident smile. They knew each other well. Perhaps there was hope after all. “Let me know if your situation changes, Jules.”

  “And you,” Julian said. “Keep us posted. Watch your back, Lynn.”

  “Don’t turn your back on the south,” Evelyn told him. “‘Bye, Jules.”

  “‘Bye.” She allowed him to break the connection. For a moment, Julian could clearly see the ghost of Evelyn’s image on the screen. Despite the fact that the years had not been as kind to her as they had perhaps been to him, part of him wished he had the luxury of staring at her face all day… maybe in another reality, he did exactly that. But in this reality, they were separated by their jobs, almost thirty years, and a few thousand miles of empty space… and he simply did not have the time to dwell on it.

  A beep on his desktop signaled the intercom. Reya’s voice spoke: “We have a document coming in from Tranquil, encrypted to you.”

  “Yeah,” Julian said
, “send it to this station.” The intercom clicked off, and a moment later, the document icon appeared on his desktop. Julian used his thumbprint on the desk’s scanner to open the document, and began reading. His eyes narrowed perceptively. Lynn was right to encrypt this.

  The question is: What can I do with it?

  ~

  There were various ways one could use to get from CnC to Dr. Silver’s office. When faced with multiple choices like that, Aaron Hardy often allowed the fates to decide which route he would take. Today, fate stepped up in the guise of a girl, one of the scientists in his department, stepping out of an adjacent office ahead of him and heading for the sciences sections. Aaron sighted in on her, his eyes locking in on her rear end, and automatically altered his course to follow hers as long as he could.

  Although he was behind her, Aaron was almost sure he knew who she was. This was because he generally took careful note of the female form, and he’d seen this one before: Medium height, with a wonderfully-sculpted ass and sinfully-curvaceous legs (as quite intentionally displayed by her close-fitting slacks and tall heels); narrow waist and wide hips, which she was very good at switching left and right as she walked; and a chest that would cause men’s knees to sag in their presence (which he’d caught a glimpse of as she’d exited the office earlier, and every time she took a corner ahead of him); and topped off with a shoulder-length cut that danced playfully as she moved. Her walk was a bit exaggerated to capture men’s attention, but with her equipment, she had a right to strut.

  Beverly Deely, from the solar monitoring department. Single, beautiful, and popular. I mean, look at her… how could she not be popular? Aaron knew her well—at least, knew of her well—and would’ve given anything to spend a night with her in his arms. Hell, he’d pay good money just to watch that walk all day. But he had never been able to muster the courage to speak to her in anything but an official capacity, much less ask her out.