by Aaron Hubble
After several years, Africa had become rich and prosperous. While the rest of the world was fighting among themselves, Africa had been busy building up infrastructure. It had become plain to him Africans would need to provide for themselves and not rely upon the handouts which had become the staple of the continent’s diet for decades. This was finally the freedom he’d wanted for his people. Factories, farms, and industry sprang up around the land, and for once, goods flowed out of Africa in exchange for natural resources and cash. The dark continent had become the world’s dominant power. He still felt a thrill inside of him when he thought about it. They’d joined forces with the scientists of the Continental Peace Federation, those who’d been working on a cure for the virus, and had formed the entity that now ruled the globe, a political, cultural and scientific monolith that put its stamp not just on Africa, but on every habitable piece of land on Earth.
Then they’d begun to prepare for what they knew was coming.
What was left of the old nations, those who still had some military machinery, formed their own confederation and launched an all-out assault on the African continent.
It didn’t last long.
Africa was prepared and had the most able-bodied soldiers by far. Idi often wondered if they’d won the war because they’d simply been able to stand up the longest. With the swift disintegration of the last vestiges of the old-world nations and their military, the Continental Peace Federation had claimed their lands and began the process of shaping and reforming Earth into what existed today.
As he admired the stylized portrait of himself being sworn in as the lead governor of the CPF, he tried once again to understand why there were those who fought against the CPF and all the good it had done on this planet. Hadn’t they stopped the rapid spread of the virus? Hadn’t the initiation of the CPF’s global reach quelled the unrest and war which had plagued mankind since the dawn of time? All one had to do was look at this city and the others the CPF had rebuilt around the world in the last twenty-five years to see the progress and the blessing this organization had become. Anyone was welcome here. He truly meant that. If a person would lay down their weapons, pledge allegiance to the CPF and be tagged for their own protection, the CPF would take care of them, feed them, give them a job and a purpose and count them among those who were willing to work with him and the governors to build a better future.
Unfortunately, there were those who couldn’t live with those simple rules. The people in R3 were misguided and an increasing threat. Wasn’t security and having your needs met worth the simple concession of having a tiny chip implanted behind your ear? He absently rubbed the tiny bump behind his left ear. It was such a shame. There were obviously very talented and dedicated people in the resistance. People who would no doubt be an asset to the CPF and humanity as a whole. People who probably deserved to be on one of the transports who would carry the best and brightest to HP-397.
He turned in a slow circle and took in the office. There were a lot of memories in this room. Many plans had been born out of late nights and long meetings. It was a shame he would be leaving it behind soon.
After he was gone, what would happen to his mementos?
He felt a twinge of regret that not everyone would be making the trip to the new homeland. It just didn’t make sense to start a civilization over with those who weren’t the best among them. It was mercy, really. Most people knew where they stood; it was easy to compare themselves with others, and, if they were honest with themselves, people knew who excelled at life and who simply performed their duties and muddled through their existence. Yes, it would be a mercy to them and the human race to simply let them die out, let the plague consume them. The best were needed elsewhere.
The incoming message signal chimed from his desk. Moving with purpose, he crossed the office and answered.
“Yes?”
“The other governors are here. Shall I escort them in, sir?”
“Yes, please. Thank you, Ming Li.”
Idi gave himself one last appraisal in the reflection of the windows. The large conference table had been set with five places instead of six. His Australian counterpart, Charles Dumas, was currently unaccounted for after losing control of the continent he’d been tasked with defending. It wasn’t shocking, really. The man had always been more about what he could gain from the position. Dumas had been extremely short sighted. Idi had learned long ago that you needed to at least show concern for those whom you led even if you didn’t feel it. So much more could be gained through feigned interest in someone’s wellbeing than outright dismissal of their welfare. Still, the loss of Australia loomed large.
The large mahogany doors swung open and the willowy Ming Li, impeccably dressed in her dark green CPF issued civil servant dress, stepped into the room leading a group of four people.
“Sir, your governors,” Ming Li said.
“Our governors, Ming Li,” he corrected.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” She bowed slightly at the waist in a show of deference. “Will there be anything else before I leave you to your business, sir?”
“No, thank you. I believe we have everything we need. Please alert us when lunch is ready.”
“Very good, sir.” Ming Li bowed once again and backed out of the doors, closing them behind her.
The doors clicked shut, leaving the group alone for their discussion. The two men and two women, along with Idi, made up the Continental Peace Federation’s Unity Council. These were the most powerful and influential people on the globe. Typically, they met virtually due to the great distances separating them. This, however, was a time when they needed to meet in person. Those shaping the next step in human history needed to be of one mind.
“Please, ladies and gentlemen, if you will follow me to the table, we shall get started.” He led them to the dark wood table, inlaid with the logo of the Continental Peace Federation. “There is coffee, tea, and water available. Please help yourselves.”
He gave the group several minutes to talk amongst themselves and catch up with each other. It had been quite a long time since they’d all been physically within the same room. It was good to have them here. Idi was a solitary man; his position dictated he remain removed from those he governed. Only these four could understand the weight of the decisions he made every day.
Walking toward him, Olivia Laurent, the governor over what had been Europe, carried two steaming cups of coffee. He accepted the mug from her and flashed the young woman a smile.
“I think I remember how you like your coffee,” she said.
“Thank you,” he said, blowing across the rim, and then took a sip. “Mmmm, you got it right. Black.”
“It’s hard to mess up,” she said.
“One should never add anything to a good cup of Ethiopian beans. They have their own sweetness, don’t you think?”
Olivia shrugged and looked at him over the rim of her mug as she took her first sip and closed her eyes, savoring the flavor. “This is really good. Idi, if you would just lower the price on coffee to a reasonable level, I guarantee Paris would buy you out. We’re starving for good coffee.”
“My dear,” he smiled. “It will all be inconsequential soon. The price of coffee, taxes, tariffs, and who controls what. It will all be a thing of the past.”
She nodded, a look of concern growing on her face. Idi noted the look and patted her upper arm. “Trust me, this meeting will put all your fears to rest. Sit on my right. It’s where you belong.”
Olivia brightened and returned his smile. “You honor me. Thank you.”
They moved to their chairs and sat, which prompted the others to break off from their conversation and take seats. Idi looked around the table and took in the men and women who made up the unity council. Joseph Campbell was from North America. He liked to boast about his land holdings, when in reality, he controlled the least amount of territory. Not only that, but it produced the smallest amount of usable goods and resources. The continent was dependent on
assistance from the rest of the world in order to survive. Usable land was sparse. Campbell’s people lived within a thin tract of land that had formerly been the upper Midwest of the United States as well as Canada. The population was small and weak and many suffered from the effects of residual radiation poisoning.
Yǎ Dé Zhōu was a quiet man with a broad, cruel streak. Next to Idi, he held the most land. Idi was sure Zhōu harbored plans to usurp him as lead governor and move the capital to Asia, but Idi didn’t plan on letting it get that far. There were men in Zhōu’s cabinet whom he considered to be trusted advisers but had been planted there by Idi to keep a close watch on the governor. Once they were on the planet, his leash would be even tighter, and Idi foresaw the day when this man would have an unfortunate accident.
Claudia Leon was a vivacious Latino. She represented her people well. Like Africa, her continent had not been as hard-hit by the Resource War. As a result, industry had thrived in her holdings. Natural resources like oil, timber and textiles flowed out of South America like the lifeblood being pumped out of a heart. While Claudia did not harbor the same level of ambition as Zhōu, she was someone to watch. Idi knew success and wealth often bred an over-inflated sense of self-worth. She was talented, and he wanted to keep her a part of this group. Perhaps all she needed was a reminder of where she really belonged and who was in charge. That merited further consideration.
And then there was Olivia. The young, beautiful Parisian. She’d stepped into power in Europe after her father, the previous governor, had died while in office. In reality, Europe was inconsequential. Like North America, much of its land was a toxic dump. Its people produced very little. Olivia was the perfect woman to hold the job. Easily swayed, she always fell into line behind him. That’s what he needed out of her, someone who didn’t cause waves. He had enough trouble with Claudia and Zhōu.
He looked up and found them all looking at him. Idi cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?” He lightly touched several glowing spaces on the tabletop and a holo-projector rose from the center of the table.
“Let’s start with an update on the progress of the Farpointe Initiative.” A statistical report was projected in front of them. “As you know, we’ve been in control of HP 397 since the first day of the invasion. While communication is delayed a week and still remains unreliable, the last report indicated nothing had changed and the extraction program was up and running. The doctors should be preparing the first batch of anti-viral, as we speak, readying it for our arrival.”
“Sir,” Claudia said when he paused. “I’m still a bit troubled by the plan to leave so many behind. Shouldn’t they have the same chance as everyone else?”
Idi nodded, acknowledging her concern. He’d expected this from her. Claudia was a compassionate person, believing in the equity of every man and woman. The struggle showed in her face. What she lacked was the steel that made a truly exceptional leader.
“I understand your feelings. I harbor the same sentiments. Unfortunately, the sad truth is not all are equipped to be a part of this new path we’re taking. It’s simply a matter of natural selection. In human history, those who haven’t been strong enough have died out, while those who possessed the necessary skills and strength to continue living have survived and passed on those traits. Often we’ve been the ones who have perpetuated weakness in our species. We’ve helped those who can’t help themselves, in essence weakening and tainting our own bloodline with inferior genes. The Farpointe Initiative is our way of making atonement for the weakness of our past. Those who aren’t the best of us will be the sacrifice for the betterment of our people. Do you understand?”
Claudia nodded and cast her eyes down to the table, resigned and silent. The struggle still showed on her face.
Good girl, he thought. This is what I require of you. Nothing more and nothing less.
Idi tapped several touch keys on the screen. “I haven’t shared these with you yet. I wanted to wait until this moment to show you what your new home looks like. This should wipe away any doubts you may have about the planet.”
The first picture that came up was from orbit. It showed a blue and green planet much like Earth. The next was of an expansive grassland; in the distance mountains peaks thrust into the sky. Then a large inland lake appeared on the screen with an emerald island in the middle. Buildings and roads could be seen on the island, giving away the presence of a city. The pictures cycled by: forests, rivers, cities, glaciers, and a vast ocean dotted with small islands.
“I assure you it’s as beautiful as the pictures make it out to be. This isn’t a sales brochure. The planet is a treasure trove of natural resources with fertile ground capable of producing abundant crops.”
He closed the window which had been projecting the pictures. “Let’s move on to…”
“I have a question about the list.” Campbell had raised his hand at the far end of the table.
“Yes, Joseph. What’s your question?”
Campbell paused, presumably for effect. “I have several very wealthy patrons who have given generously to our cause. They were under the assumption, because of their loyalty to the CPF, they’d be included on the list of those making the long trip. My question is, why aren’t they on the list?”
“I have a question for you, Joseph.” Idi paused for his own effect. “How did they come to this assumption? Perhaps promises were made that cannot be fulfilled? Were certain pockets lined with credits for tickets on the ship?”
Campbell was silent for a moment. “These are powerful people with a lot of firepower, if you know what I mean. They may become hostile if their names don’t show up on the list.”
Turning his cup of coffee, Idi looked up at Campbell and smiled. “You could always give up your seat, Joseph. It would be a gesture of goodwill which would accomplish two things. First, no blood would be shed, and secondly, it would remove your genetic material from the annals of humankind.”
Campbell glowered in his seat and stared at the glossy tabletop.
“It would be my recommendation that you not return to your home. Cut your losses and make your way to Antarctica, or there will most definitely be a vacant seat. In the future, refrain from making promises that your…position does not allow you to fulfill. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” Campbell said. To Idi, it seemed the man had deflated in size, the chair he sat in engulfing him. Exactly what the man needed. Campbell thought himself much more important than he truly was in global affairs. Perhaps it made sense he would also meet with an unfortunate accident once they arrived on Aereas. Something to consider.
Claudia spoke next. “Has our position been compromised due to the loss of the engine facility in Zhōu’s territory?”
Idi saw Zhōu bristle at the meaning behind Claudia’s words. The two knew they held the most prominent positions on the Unity Council and verbal sparring for prominence had become their preferred method of competition. Idi quickly jumped in to head off any possibility that this could get ugly.
“The loss of the engine facility is unfortunate and regrettable, but a minor matter in the grand scheme of things,” Idi said.
“How is the loss of a highly advanced piece of technology a small loss?” Claudia retorted.
“Zhōu’s people made sure there was no information anywhere in the facility as to where any of the engines would be taken after completion. No one in the building knew where the actual ships were located, and the engine seized by the dissidents was actually a new prototype, an upgraded model of the engines in the actual ships. As you can see, my dear, our plans have not been compromised in any way. Those who have been selected will not know they are leaving until the day a transport arrives to take them away. Those piloting the transports will not know who they’re picking up or where they’re taking the selected ones until they receive their orders on that day. This group of five are the only ones on the planet who have all the details of the plan. I am assuming our dear Dumas took that information with him to his grav
e. We’re still a go to make our trip in a matter of days. The resistance will chase their own tails in a circle trying to figure out what the engine belongs to and where the ships may be located. In the meantime, we will be traveling through space on the way to our new home, never needing to worry about the thorn called R3 ever again.”
His governors seemed to be satisfied with his assurances and they moved on to other matters, making sure that all was set for the departure from Earth. If he had had any doubts, they had been assuaged.
Sometimes the best thing was to tear the existing structure down and start all over again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Aereas - Alam, Ma’Ha’Nae city under Lake Keali
Calier wiped a tear from his eye and tried to control his laughter. Maltoki, his arm in a sling, was regaling the group with a story from his days as an incorrigible teen.
“I know this will shock you,” Maltoki said, soaking up the laughter. “The scheme to make money from homemade fireworks ended badly. We burned down my father’s shed, I lost most of the hair on one side of my head, and my father made my brothers and me work on his friend’s farm for the rest of the summer to pay for a new shed.”
“I suppose you learned your lesson after that, didn’t you, lad?” Ibris said, wiping at his own eyes.
Maltoki shook his head. “We were right back out there the next year trying to make fireworks we could sell to our friends. We were a bit smarter the second time around. Dad always wondered how I got the money to buy that new computer.”
The table erupted into laughter again. After regaining his composure, Calier leaned back in his chair and surveyed those gathered around the table. The whole group was here. Ibris, Rohab and their two boys, Maltoki and the teenager Anoki, Oyeb, Emura, Denar, and himself, all those who had survived the trip across the grasslands and through Sho’el Forest. They did this once a week, all the ger’ana, the sojourners, as they’d called themselves. There was a standing date on everyone’s calendar that on the first day of the week they would join together for a dinner in the courtyard of Ibris and Rohab’s apartment. Everyone brought something to share, something they had prepared or, in Maltoki’s case, charmed or bribed someone else to fix for him.
