New Title 1

by Jordan, Steven Lyle

  “That your Chief Operations Officer and your Chief Scientist are doing something behind your back,” Kris stated plainly. “Something that may or may not be good for Verdant… but that is probably not good for you, one way or the other, if it is being kept from you.”

  “Just a few days ago,” Julian said, “you seemed to be more concerned with what was good for my Chief Operations Officer.”

  “Don’t confuse professionalism for feelings,” Kris said. “I was trying to get information from Aaron… that’s my job.”

  “And are you still on the job?”

  “Yes, I am,” Kris replied evenly. “And it is my professional opinion that you, the Chief Executive Officer of Verdant, should keep an eye on whatever your Coo and Dr. Silver are doing behind your back. I can only tell you that whatever it is, is not being coordinated with the President’s staff… so it doesn’t bode well for America. And if it isn’t being done for America, and it isn’t being done for you—”

  “Okay, I get the picture,” Julian said. “I’ll… try to be a little more vigilant about the activities of my staff,” he said with a touch of sarcasm. Then, more seriously, he added, “Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

  “I’m just doing my job,” Kris stated. Then she laid a hand on Julian’s arm. “Despite the name of the person who signs my paycheck, I don’t want to see Verdant ruined. That won’t be good for anybody. Please believe that.”

  Julian and Kris regarded each other silently; for a brief moment, all of the barriers dropped between them, and they were sure they were reading each other clearly and honestly. Then there was a ping, and the lift doors opened before them, allowing the rest of the world to flood back in. Abruptly, the barriers were back up, and each of them assumed their professional demeanors again. Julian started out of the lift, angling towards the flight bays.

  Kris stayed in the lift, and called out, “Thank you for your time, Ceo.”

  Julian paused long enough to turn back her way. “Thank you, Miss Fawkes.” Then he proceeded on to the bays. Kris let the lift doors close on her, and take her back up to the main floors.

  As Julian proceeded on, he found his mind to be split: On one hand, he was considering Kris’ warning that Aaron and Jacqueline Silver were involved in some clandestine project of their own… and Kris had been right in her suspicion that he himself was unaware of the project, whatever it was. Of course, there were a lot of projects that Julian wasn’t directly aware of… that was why he had a Coo to handle those things, so he could run the satellite. But none of the projects in the sciences sections were supposed to be classified, or even politically sensitive, so he couldn’t think of a reason why Aaron couldn’t tell Kris about one of them. It may have been a simple misunderstanding on Kris or Aaron’s part, possibly prompted by the current political situation, and may in fact have been nothing at all. Nonetheless, that needed looking into.

  And on the other hand, there was that last moment in the lift. Julian had gotten much more than a professional vibe from Kris at that moment: The message she had clearly sent to him was, “I want to help you.”

  “I want to help you.” Yes, he’d heard it in the timbre of her voice, had felt it in her hand on his arm, had seen it in her eyes. And he was sure that, at the moment he’d seen it, he’d suddenly let his own guard down, and allowed her to see a side of him that had wanted that help.

  That had wanted her.

  He hadn’t intended to do that, for reasons that, if he wanted to, he could probably catalog for hours. First and foremost would probably be the old axiom about “sleeping with the enemy.” But maybe more to the point was the operative of that axiom, “sleeping with.” Since Mariel had passed away, Julian had steadfastly avoided any actions or activities that might have invited women to him, and he had politely or occasionally impolitely rebuffed any advances he received. And so far, he had never felt as if he was denying himself something he wanted or needed, or could do without. He was not interested in a relationship, and did not consider that he needed female companionship or sex. Most importantly, he did not want those feelings to cloud his judgment, or to affect his ability to function as Ceo. He’d simply channeled his energy into his job, ignored the encouraging entreaties of people like Reya Luis and his daughter, and allowed the idea of companionship to be locked away and forgotten.

  So why, now, of all times, did he suddenly find himself thinking about Kris Fawkes as if she was the first woman he’d seen in decades? Could she possibly be that sexy and alluring? Were the circumstances of the Yellowstone crisis sowing doubt and confusion in him, leaving him unexpectedly open to female attraction? Or was it something that had changed in himself, something that left him needful of a woman’s hand? Of her hand?

  Why now?

  So absorbed was he in his train of thought, that Julian almost missed the right turn he needed to make to reach the bay holding the Aztlan. He corrected his path at the last moment, glancing around with a touch of embarrassment to see if anyone had noticed. Then he zeroed in on the proper bay, and made for the RPI ship.

  In truth, the Aztlan was not hard to find: Not only did its battered appearance match the camera footage he’d seen from CnC; but the crowd on onlookers that gawked and pointed at the ash-scoured ship was enough to get anyone’s passing attention. As Julian approached, a few of the members of the crowd noticed him coming and stood aside to give him room to pass. The crowd thus parted like a reluctant wave, slowing him only slightly, as he approached two people who didn’t seem to take notice of his arrival. One of those people was dressed in the distinctive uniform of an RPI pilot, and he was busy pointing out areas of the jet’s fuselage and discussing the damage with the other man.

  The other man was Walter Gordon, head of RPI. Gordon was tall and thin, not the overall build of an imposing man… in fact, with his suitcoat thrown casually over his shoulder, he looked more like a lanky engineer collaborating with the pilot on the progression of needed repairs. But Julian knew of the man’s intensity, the quality that had propelled him to the top of his corporation in a relatively short span of years. This knowledge helped to focus Julian on the task at hand, the job of negotiating the renewal of freight deliveries, whilst dealing with Gordon’s unspoken actual agenda: Permanent residence on Verdant. With little effort, he managed to push any errant thoughts about Kris Fawkes into a dark corner and forget about them.

  It was Gordon’s pilot who saw Julian first; and with a flicker of his eyes, alerted Gordon to his presence. Gordon turned, and smiled grimly when he saw Julian. He extended his hand first. “Ceo Lenz. Good to see you again.”

  “Hello, Walter,” Julian shook his hand, and as he did so, took in the sight of the Aztlan. Unsurprisingly, it looked even worse in person than it had on camera. “Glad you made it here in one piece. Is it still flyable?”

  “Yes,” Gordon’s pilot replied, “but just barely. The control systems are a mess… I wouldn’t want to take it back into atmo like this. And the rockets took a beating from the extended climb we had to execute.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Julian said. “As always, you have access to our repair facilities as needed. We’ll get you ship-shape again.”

  “Thanks,” the pilot said, and almost immediately, started to fade into the shadow of his employer, who had put his suitcoat back on. With the jacket, added to his characteristic intensity, Gordon looked noticeably more impressive as a business leader. He was good at putting on airs, Julian knew from past experience; but he was equally determined not to allow Gordon’s appearance to cow him; so he let Gordon put on his show, for all the good it would do him.

  “We have a lot to talk about, Walter,” Julian began, pressing the dominant role. “Why don’t we go someplace where you can take a load off first? Have you booked a room anywhere?”

  “Not yet,” Gordon replied. “Figured I’d wait until I knew I’d be here. Think there’s a room available in the Cumulus?”

  “I’d bet on it,” Julian replied, alrea
dy well aware that many of Verdant’s hotels had been caught without full occupation when Yellowstone had erupted. “Come on.”

  Gordon lifted a wrist, on which he wore a luggage bracelet, and tapped a control button. Nearby, a wheeled suitcase a meter tall and a half-meter on each hexagonal side, erupted with an attention-getting double-beep, a small amber light began flashing on its top, and it began to roll along, homing after Gordon’s bracelet. As they walked along, the case trundling close behind, Julian mentioned almost off-hand, “By the way, we were monitoring the progress of the El Capitan at the same time we were monitoring you. Sounds like they took a bit of a beating from the ash layer, too, but they made it down okay.”

  “Yes, we were checking up on them, too,” Gordon nodded. “We ended up passing relatively close to each other along the way. I may—” he paused for a split-second, because he had been about to make a comment about following up on and possibly disciplining the pilot of that freighter, who had strayed from her established course and thereby endangered the Aztlan by that close pass… and as the words were coming out of his mouth, remembered that the El Cap’s pilot just happened to be Lenz’ daughter, Anise… so he mentally edited himself: “—have to take the El Cap out of service for awhile, if it suffered the same kind of damage we had on the way up. But it may be a few days before I see a full report.”

  “Of course.” Julian noted the pause in Gordon’s comment, but gave no indication that it had made an impression on him. “Under the circumstances, grounding your piloted fleet only makes sense.”

  “Mm,” Gordon nodded, pointedly not reacting to Julian’s specifying of his piloted ships, as opposed to his ballistic craft.

  They reached a lift and took it to the main floor, debarking not far from the lobby of the Cumulus Hotel. From their vantage point, much of Verdant’s interior stretched out before them, and Gordon took it in with a thin smile. “Well,” he said presently, “it certainly looks peaceful enough in here. Lucky for you.”

  “We’ve had to place Verdant residents and staff on level three conservation levels,” Julian told him. “Things tend to quiet down at level three… less overt activity, limited transportation usage. Not that that compares to having a volcano erupt in your back yard. But for a satellite, it’s significant.” He motioned towards the Cumulus entrance. “Let’s get you settled in.”

  The Cumulus had an old-fashioned human concierge’s desk in the lobby, though when things were busy, the desk could be bypassed. At the time, though, there were no other visitors at the desk, so Julian and Gordon walked right up and arranged for a suite for Gordon. He was issued a room, which was programmed to his personal key, and the two men headed for the lifts to his floor.

  “Do you want some time to settle in before we start our discussions?” Julian asked as the lift door opened.

  “Tell you what,” Gordon said. “Why don’t you come on up. We’ll get things started right now.”

  Julian nodded his acceptance, and joined Gordon and his autonomic luggage in the lift. They only went up two floors, before the lift opened. A distinct glowing line appeared on the floor, leading towards Gordon’s room, and they proceeded to follow it. The line ended at the door, and Gordon used his personal key to unlock the door. Julian allowed Gordon and his luggage to enter first, before following him in.

  The suite, like most of the suites in Cumulus, was almost as large as most apartments in Verdant, and larger than many. It included a sitting room, a bedroom, bathroom, and a mini-kitchen complete with cooktop, stove, and cooler. In addition, the room sported a balcony that afforded an excellent view of Verdant’s vast interior… one of Cumulus’ most famous features. Gordon took it all in quickly, then continued on to the bedroom, removing his luggage bracelet and leaving it on a tabletop. The luggage rolled in after him, and parked itself near the bracelet, gave a double-beep, and extinguished its flashing light. Gordon left the bedroom and closed the door behind him, and crossed to the mini-kitchen, opening a cupboard and extracting two glasses.

  “Water?” Gordon invited, as he filled one glass from a chilled dispenser.

  “Thank you,” Julian replied, and Gordon handed him the first glass. He filled the second one, then stepped out of the mini-kitchen and over to the sofa that faced the balcony, and the incredible view. As he sat down on the sofa, Julian sat in a chair adjacent to him, allowing him to see Gordon to his left, and the view to his right.

  For a moment, Gordon seemed happy to simply admire the view, glass in hand, legs crossed casually. He sighed lightly, a sign of contentment, and took a slow draught of the cold water. Then he looked at Julian, who was regarding him silently. At length, he said, “Do you realize what’s going on down there, right now?”

  “We’ve all seen the news feeds,” Julian said simply.

  “Of course,” Gordon shrugged. “But the newsfeeds don’t communicate the desperation down there… the panic. The sense that everything you knew, everything you had, is now over. And some that aren’t sure if they’re going to survive the night.” Julian wisely refrained from commenting, and instead took a draught from his water glass, and waited. After a moment, Gordon continued. “And that’s just in North America, right now. The ash cloud is reaching Europe now, and Africa, and they’re just starting to feel how we’ve felt for the past week.”

  “It’s tragic,” Julian finally said. “And there was no way to predict it.”

  “No, there wasn’t.” Gordon shook his head sadly. “It means we’re all going to have to change how we do things. In fact, to change what we do.”

  “Up here,” Julian pointed out, “we’re already doing that.”

  Gordon fixed him with a look. “Are you? Well, I have to say that things don’t look too chaotic from here. Actually, they look… quite calm. Like Verdant isn’t even slightly inconvenienced by the goings-on back on Earth.”

  “Looks are deceiving,” Julian stated. “It ‘looks calm’ because people are cutting back on extraneous activities… conserving their resources. Resources we need to get from Earth, in order to survive. We’ve had restriction periods before. Residents here are very experienced in cutting back, using less, and avoiding unnecessary waste.” Lessons that would have served Earth well a few times in the past, he thought, but had the presence of mind not to say aloud. “That’s how we survive the lean times.”

  “We were really hoping the ash cloud would not turn out to be this hard to penetrate,” Gordon said, effectively taking the conversation in another direction. “But after what my jet went through, and the El Capitan… it’s obviously worse than we thought. Much worse. Our preliminary reports on the ballistic crash came through before I left.”

  He paused for effect, prompting Julian to say, “Yes?”

  “Flying through the ash is causing a lot of static electricity buildup,” Gordon explained. “The ballistic was hit by at least one lightning bolt. Some of our boys think as many as three direct strikes. Between that, and the blinding caused by the sensor bombardment, the thing went runaway before it reached five thousand meters. We’re lucky it didn’t kill somebody.”

  He took another draught. “Julian, that means we’re going to have to harden the nav and control cores against lightning surges, as well as adding shielding to the sensors. That’s going to take time. And money.”

  “You’ll be raising your rates,” Julian said, not phrasing it as a question.

  “To an extent… we’ll have no choice,” Gordon replied with a shrug. “We’ll try to absorb some of it in other areas, but we have to cover our costs. That’s one of the reasons we need to improve our logistics operations at this end, you see.” (And he finally gets to the object of his pretense, Julian thought wryly.) “We’ve identified problems at our offices here, but without direct examination, I can’t possibly take effective action. I’m going to get into their systems, and straighten things out… however I need to do it.”

  “Very conscientious,” Julian commented. “I’ll give you two weeks to get done.”r />
  “I can’t guarantee I’ll have the problem straightened out in two weeks,” Gordon said plainly. “I don’t know how extensive they are, yet. Depending on the circumstances, I may have to do some personnel manipulation to get everything running properly. And we’ll probably have to hold deliveries until we get all of that straightened out.”

  “Well, then, two weeks better be enough time to retrain your existing personnel to run your office, or hire new people from Verdant’s workforce, because I’m not authorizing any new citizenships in the meantime.”

  “Julian, come on, even if I set up an I-V drip in the office and worked 24-7 to get it functioning—”

  “No new citizenships includes you, by the way,” Julian interrupted him.

  “Now, look!” Gordon blustered. “I’m trying to help you here! If I can’t get these problems fixed, we can’t resume deliveries!”

  “Well, since Verdant manufactures a lot of the goods that Earth needs, I’ll make sure they are all well aware what company is preventing me from getting those goods to them.”

  “Oh, so, you’re threatening me now?” Gordon tried to take on an indignant tone, which, from him, didn’t work at all. “You don’t think Earth will sympathize with me for having trouble flying through that ash?”

  “They might not, when I tell them what’s really holding up their deliveries. Or do you expect them to react favorably to your obvious efforts to blackmail me?”

  Gordon’s indignant look quickly shifted then, to be replaced with a knowing and calculated regard. “Hey, that’s just business. It’s called ‘scratching your back’. And you know what they say about my scratching your back…”

  Gordon left the sentence hanging there, and took a drink. Julian nodded, and after a moment, stood up and walked over to the balcony.

  “Yes, Walter, I know what you want,” Julian said slowly. “In short, you want what billions of other human beings want right now: To be up here, instead of down there. Where you seem to think it’s safe.”