“Coo Hardy doesn’t seem that concerned about the supplies crisis Verdant is in the middle of,” Kris explained. “He’s no dummy, so he clearly knows how serious it is. He seems to be planning something… or he thinks he knows of something going on.”
Thompson did not have to ask how far she had gone to get more information. He knew full well that she would have slept with Hardy to find out whatever she could. Obviously it hadn’t worked. “Didn’t you get anything useful out of him?”
Kris searched the ceiling for a moment, recalling everything that had been discussed during dinner… afterward, at his apartment… later, in his bed. “I don’t think it’s anything illegal… or even seriously underhanded. He’s not acting as if he has some sort of data to blackmail someone with. But I don’t know what that leaves us with.”
Thompson idly scratched his temple. “It does seem unusual. Maybe they’ve made some deal with one of the freighter lines.”
“I couldn’t get a name out of him, so I can’t confirm that,” Kris told him. “I can say that he was… almost… smug about whatever it is.”
“Smug?” Thompson’s eyes popped, then narrowed as his forehead furrowed. “I don’t like the sound of that…”
“Frankly, sir,” Kris went on, “I’m not absolutely sure this is a good lead.”
After what she had just reported, Thompson was brought up short. “Why not?”
Kris paused before responding. “A feeling. I’m just not sure Hardy knows what he’s talking about. It just feels to me like someone’s fed him some story, and he’s just… accepted it. In fact, is thrilled by it. I said, Hardy isn’t stupid. But at the same time, he’s not very sophisticated, especially when it comes to people. I suspect someone’s playing him.”
Thompson considered Kris’ statement carefully. “If so, who? And why would they do that?”
“I don’t know,” Kris replied. “But if he’s being smoked, I doubt we’re going to get any useful information out of him.”
“I disagree,” Thompson said quickly. “There may be a good reason to smoke the Chief Operations Officer of Verdant… to keep him from discovering something going on under his nose. If we can find out what, it may turn out to be a bargaining chip for us.”
After a moment, Kris shook her head. “I don’t see how I—”
“Stick with him,” Thompson interrupted her. “You’ve done a good job getting close to him. Try to tease out of him the identity of whoever is feeding him this possible misinformation… and we’ll see if maybe it’s something we can use.”
Kris returned Thompson’s gaze, and didn’t bother to hide her disagreement with his orders. Still, she reflected, he was the boss. “Anything else?”
Thompson considered a moment. Kris had a good idea what he was considering… the look in his eye was very familiar. Finally he said, “I suppose not. That’s all.”
Kris nodded, got up, and left the Chief of Staff’s office (and walked very stiffly, knowing full well where Thompson’s eyes were lingering, as she left). She closed the door quietly behind her, and only when the door was closed, she allowed her displeasure of the man to show on her face. In her business, she had spent more than enough time with sexual predators, and honestly didn’t mind a man who simply enjoyed pursuing sex for sex’s sake. But Thompson’s kind of predator was the worst: He mercilessly lorded himself over women; physically and emotionally dominated them; and worst of all, made it clear that he was willing to use his power and influence to destroy the career of any woman who denied or displeased him. How his interns managed to tolerate such treatment, Kris would never understand… how much could those power-whores seriously expect to get out of him in the long run? Of anyone she had to deal with on Verdant, Enu Thompson was the one man who she just wanted to see off of the satellite as soon as possible.
And she now wondered if he was allowing his nature to cloud his intelligence. She thought she was clear when she told him that Hardy only thought he knew what was going on, and she couldn’t see how Thompson had missed that. Ordering her to spend more time with Hardy was putting her on a wild goose chase, she was sure of it. And not that she couldn’t stand Hardy—he was a wimp, but he wasn’t a bad person—but she didn’t want to waste her time for no good reason.
Kris descended the stairs to the diplomatic floor. As she did most of her work outside of the compound, she did not actually have a desk assigned to her, but she had access to a bank of workstations in a common room. She considered spending the time there for the morning, to see if she could possibly dig up some further info on the mysterious “secret” that Hardy thought he was carrying. But she didn’t know where to start… she was an under-the-covers spy, not a data miner. Maybe she could find someone else who could poke around for her, maybe one of Thompson’s interns…
And as her eyes roved around the room, they fell upon a familiar face that she rarely saw at the compound, except, she reflected, when the President was visiting. She smiled, and turned in that direction. It was only when she was close that the other person looked up from a datapad she was reading, noticed her, and returned her smile. “Well, hello, Kris. How are things?”
“Not bad,” Kris replied. “Nice to see you, Shay.”
“And you,” Shay said. “Working at the compound?”
“Just here to report in,” Kris told her. She didn’t need to ask what Shay was doing here: She supposed Lambert was presently busy with matters of state, leaving Shay with some free time until he was ready for a break, and maybe a romp.
Shay likewise didn’t need to ask too many questions about Kris’ work. They had encountered each other on many occasions, and they both knew each other very well. Although Lambert hadn’t given her many details, Shay could guess what Kris was involved in. The two women made quite a pair, an image not lost on many of those who passed by: Shay, with a lush body built for intense carnal pleasures; and Kris, much sleeker in build, but all the same possessing a magnetism that was easily as sexy as Shay’s raw fire. In many ways, they were the difference between a bullet and a scalpel; yet, both were equally efficient at their intended tasks. It was impossible to imagine the heterosexual male that wouldn’t be driven crazy by at least one of them, if not both.
Shay asked, “They have you trying to find some leverage over the immigration issue?”
Kris nodded. “I’m working CnC. Aaron Hardy.”
“Getting anywhere?”
Kris made a disgusted face. “I don’t think so.” She sat on the edge of the desk Shay was leaning on. “There’s maybe a lead, but Thompson has me working the wrong end of it.”
“Knowing him,” Shay said in a low voice, “the ass-end.”
Kris smiled. They both knew Thompson well. “Does Lambert have any better feeling about how this is going to work out?”
“No,” Shay replied. “His hands seem to be tied. He simply has no leverage to apply. They tried to get Geneva on their side, but it collapsed. And with the freight services grounded, they don’t have any bargaining chips. This Yellowstone thing has just screwed everybody royally.”
Kris shook her head sadly, and the two women exchanged glances. They didn’t need to voice what was going through both of their heads: This is way beyond the efforts of a couple of pieces of tail.
“What’s your lead?” Shay asked after a moment.
“Someone’s smoking Hardy,” Kris told her. “He thinks there’s something that will solve this problem and put a nice bow on it.”
“Hardy must be the one smoking,” Shay smirked. “Who could convince him of something like that?”
“That’s what I need to find out,” Kris said. “Then maybe I can figure out why… and if that why is something useful. I just doubt I’m going to get it from Hardy.”
“Well, at least Hardy gets you access to CnC,” Shay said. “If you can’t get it out of him… maybe someone else can cough it up through him.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.” Something else occurred to Kris, and she inclined her h
ead toward the upper floors. “Are they planning to stay here?”
Shay made sure no one was in earshot before she replied. “I think so. They clearly don’t want to hurry back. I’m pretty sure they think Yellowstone is the proverbial final nail in the coffin.”
~
On her way out of the compound, Kris considered Shay’s words carefully. It was one thing for the President to be negotiating improved conditions for the United States. But if he and Thompson were simply angling to stay on Verdant, their strategy was completely different… they were negotiating for themselves, which ultimately meant, to Hell with the country. It put everything in a different light. Including her assignment… and her priorities.
The compound resided on a particularly picturesque corner of the Southern Woods, not far from some very popular campgrounds and picnic areas. Southern Woods was situated in such a way as to afford its visitors an almost full view of Verdant’s “sky,” as it was referred to in popular circles: The entire interior of the satellite, right up to the hub; and beyond to the other side. Verdant’s interior included plenty of greenland, wooded areas (maybe not large enough to be considered forests, but woods, at least), grassy parks and farmed areas on the outermost Floor 20, and additional greenery and gardens on the many other exposed floors, all mixed in with airy living and work spaces and other commercial buildings, with balconies that gave every floor access to the outside air. The overall effect was that of an immense layout of variably-rotating structures draped with elaborate hanging gardens, all of which turned in upon themselves to create their own cathedral ceiling, thousands of feet overhead. It was a view that was hard to resist, the sight of a reversed world still being so relatively new to the average person, and with seemingly more greenery than most ground-dwellers would see from the highest peak.
As Kris exited the main gate and proceeded down the monitored trail that would bring her to the secondary gate—the closest an unauthorized visitor could get to the compound—she looked up into Verdant’s skies, and tried to picture the satellite as another dirty, overpopulated city on Earth… the kind of place Lambert and his administration would turn it into, if given the opportunity. Kris had lived on Verdant for six years, now, in a pleasant apartment in the upper northern floors. She could just imagine stepping out of her apartment, and over the bodies of the squatters that would be sleeping in her hallways, the assault on her senses by the sounds of snoring and the moans of the sleepless, the smell of the unwashed, the blight of ragged clothing and possessions in piles and boxes all around… she suppressed a shudder at the thought. No matter what, she wanted no part of that.
On the other hand… if Lambert planned to stop at establishing his own home on Verdant, it was possible nothing here would change. That was an idea Kris could support. In fact, she reflected, if there was a way for her to take matters into her own hands, to pull the few strings that were within her reach, to set up residence for Lambert alone… she would willingly do that. And she would only ask one thing for her trouble: To be retired from government “service,” finally independent, free to do whatever she pleased… to sleep with whomever she desired… to live the life she wanted. That was a deal worth making. And Kris was sure she would be willing to manipulate anyone she needed to, in order to make that deal.
Was Aaron Hardy the person to manipulate toward those ends? She doubted it. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced he was a tool. But she had to find out who was using him, before she could move on, to reach those strings she needed to pull. That could take time… and she wasn’t sure how much time she had.
10: Reading the Opposition
There was a different vibe when Kris walked into CnC (beyond the usual reactions that her arrival tended to create, that is): In one way, it was less tense, the novel pressures of the Yellowstone eruption now days behind them; but at the same time, there was a renewed tension caused by the continued flight restrictions, and the prospect of an extended period without regular flights. Kris could feel it the moment she walked in, could see it on the faces of the staffers. It was a clear apprehension over things to come.
And she was part of that apprehension. The Verdant staffers would look at her in terms of her role as U.S. government liaison, and would see the implied threat she posed. To them, she was nothing more than a spy, an interloper that ultimately intended to subvert them. And unfortunately, they were exactly right. So Kris had no intention of denying it… instead, she intended to play it openly, yes, I work for Uncle Sam, sorry for the intrusion, so let’s make the best of it, shall we? At least I’m easy on the eyes…
She saw Aaron across the room, speaking to a staffer in the logistics section. She got close enough to hear Aaron tell the staffer, “You let her know she does not have the luxury of time. She has her requested equipment, and we need results now…” before he noticed Kris, and his demeanor abruptly changed. To the staffer, he finished with, “Go. Get them on the stick.”
As the staffer moved away, Aaron turned to Kris and smiled expansively. Inwardly, she winced: Anyone who saw that smile of his would know exactly what she had done to earn it. Might as well show them videos… outwardly, she returned the smile, though slightly more subdued, hoping to telegraph to Aaron: Propriety, modesty, privacy…
“Good morning, Miss Fawkes,” Aaron greeted her. “Ah, I expect the President has had a chance to review our counter-report to Geneva by now.”
Clumsy, but quick on the uptake, Kris thought. Thank goodness. “Yes, he has,” she replied, glad to be able to get right down to business. “And he has some questions, of course. There may be areas where he thinks there is still room for compromise. I’d appreciate the CnC’s help in getting the information he’s looking for.”
“Of course,” Aaron nodded, maintaining friendly formality as best he could. Truth be told, he was not good at it. He had the look of a teen who, if given the opportunity, would grab her and duck into the nearest broom closet when he thought no one was looking. Well, he had been her first choice… it was her own fault. Nevertheless, she gamely allowed him to steer her toward one of the open workstations, where he began to outline its many functions and methods of data access, as well as its ability to draw information from or send information to the central workstation.
“That can be useful,” he explained, “because the central station can offer a more detailed display of raw data, or graphs and 3-D projections. It can also combine the data from multiple workstations. You can get a lot from looking at the big picture, but sometimes, you need that serious detail to work out what’s really going on.”
“I see,” Kris encouraged him, and listened patiently as he explained the controls of the station. She further prompted him with some opening questions, and Aaron showed her how to call that information up, how to display it in front of her, and how to send the more detailed projections to the central station. After awhile, Kris was calling up her own data, and asking further questions only when she needed clarification on something.
Many of her questions intentionally touched on the issue of supplies and deliveries, in an attempt to gauge his reaction to the subject. Not so much his actual answers, but the way he gave them… that was what Kris was paying attention to. And the more he said on the subject, the more Kris was convinced that he did not expect it to be an issue, or at least, not for very long.
So, she eventually reached a point where part of her research included calling up delivery schedules for the necessities Verdant needed to survive. Taking the opportunity by the reins, she said: “The satellites’ supply problems never seem to go away. I’m sure it’s always number one on your list of things to address.”
“Almost always,” Aaron replied casually.
Kris looked at him. “What about now?” Aaron returned her glance, but before he could reply, she added, “I got the impression that one of your pressing projects might have had something to do with supplies.”
Aaron replied, but after a noticeable pause, which Kris atta
ched significance to… he was measuring his response, making sure he did not say too much. “Yes, we have a research project in the works, down in the science section. We’re looking into some new freight delivery systems.”
“New?” Kris did not have to feign confusion, and she let it show. “You can fly supplies in freighters… and you can put them on guided rockets. What else is there?”
“That’s what we’re exploring,” Aaron said. “It’s all very experimental, though.”
“Oh. So this isn’t what you were talking to that other technician about,” Kris said. To Aaron’s reaction, she added, “You seemed to be telling him to get some results from something.”
“Oh,” Aaron nodded quickly. “Actually, same project. But they’re lagging behind. With everything else going on, I may have to postpone the project if they can’t give us some coherent results soon.”
This, Kris could tell, was an outright lie. Whatever the project was, he had no intention of postponing anything. “What kind of results?”
Aaron shrugged, his eyes blinked… he was looking for a way to tell her something that wouldn’t tell her anything. “Some equations that need to be confirmed,” he responded finally. He seemed about to add something, probably as empty as his first reply, when a staffer appeared at his side. After a brief exchange, Aaron turned back to Kris. “Please excuse me,” he said, and his relief was evident. “Some business I need to take care of elsewhere. I’ll leave you to your research, and I hope to see you later.”
Aaron left with the staffer. Kris watched him go with veiled disappointment at not being able to get more out of him, but she recovered quickly: It was a testament to her ability to work a crowd, that she was soon eliciting help from the other nearby staffers, not monopolizing their time by any means, but all the same receiving as much assistance as she needed. And using the central workstation turned out to be useful in another way: Her occasional forays to the center of the room, knowingly putting herself on display while she coquettishly examined a projection she had created, didn’t hurt to guarantee she had more than enough men around to help her if she asked.
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