by PP Corcoran
Memories of long past history lectures flooded back to Rebecca. Of course. The Marshall Plan. An American economic aid plan, which pumped billions of dollars into the war-weary economies of not only Western Europe but Asia. Within seven years, the countries receiving aid not only reached prewar economic production, but exceeded it. The plan was seen as a great success, not only did it reinvigorate the world’s economy, it had the added effect of bringing former enemies together in a common goal. That cunning old dog’s knowledge of human history never ceased to amaze her.
Tarrov forced himself to his feet and ever so slowly walked around the table until he stood beside the Garundan. "The Persai will follow where Garunda leads in this matter."
Rebecca looked across at Representative Hoolas, who was yet to comment. "Representative?"
Hoolas looked from Rebecca to Tarrov and Bezled before she spoke, "I cannot claim to have as deep an understanding of human history as Chairman Tarrov, nor have my people suffered the loss of so many of our people as other member planets of the Commonwealth during its struggle against the Others. Furthermore, we have no culture of Yolva like our Garundan allies. However, I do understand the Garundan position in this matter and I find myself inclined to agree with Chairman Tarrov. What gives us the right to stand idly by and watch the remaining members of a race, even one as inherently evil as the Others, simply die?"
Rebecca had been a politician long enough to see when she was on the losing side. She said, "It seems I find myself outnumbered, Prime Minister. May I inquire how you propose to fulfill your duties under Yolva?" Rebecca sat back with her best game face on. If you cannot win by sound argument, then tie them up in technical details.
Unfortunately, Bezled was prepared. He reached into his jacket and produced three more PADs, which he passed to each delegate. "Phase One is the expansion of our current prisoner-of-war facilities on a suitable planet. By ‘suitable,’ I mean a planet that is capable of supporting sufficient food production now and in the future, and has adequate natural resources for a minimal level of industrialization. We believe we have identified such a planet: Planet IV in star system 84137. Phase Two. The transportation of all POWs from their current location to Planet IV..."
Rebecca saw her chance and jumped at it. "There are a lot of POWs to move, Prime Minister and I’m not sure when the shipping vehicles would become available to transport them."
The Prime Minister went on, completely unperturbed. "If adequate transport is not immediately available, then Garunda is willing to suspend its colonization program in its entirety to make the hulls available to complete the movement of the POWs."
This comment took the whole room by surprise. The drive to colonize as many planets as possible as quickly as possible had become not only a political but economical imperative for the entire Commonwealth, and here were the Garundans willing to put it all on hold in their need to satisfy Yolva. Rebecca's next statement was made with newfound respect. "Excuse my interruption, Prime Minister, please continue."
"Phase Three. Security. We understand that not all the peoples of the Commonwealth may be happy with our need to honor Yolva and as long as the Others exist then they could be deemed to be a threat, so as part of the project we intend to build a series of secure compounds. These compounds will house adequate medical facilities to see to the wellbeing of the POWs and they will also contain sufficient military forces to subdue any localized uprisings by the POWs. In orbit will be a single space station based on the planned orbital fortress design and a network of surveillance satellites. This station will be equipped with a number of assault and cargo shuttles. The station will also house an army brigade, which will be on call to support the compounds as required. A flotilla of destroyers will patrol the system at all times."
"That’s a significant military presence, Prime Minister," commented Hoolas.
"Garunda is willing to provide all the necessary naval ships and army personnel," stated Bezled matter-of-factly.
The Garundans have certainly thought this through, Rebecca thought.
"Phase Four. De-programming. I think I speak for all of us gathered here that we are all of the opinion the Others were simply puppets being controlled by some unseen puppet master."
There was a mumbled agreement from all present. “A puppet master whom we have yet to meet, and I fear such a meeting will be an unpleasant affair," said Tarrov.
After a moment’s reflection, Rebecca realized a consensus was reached. "It will be a hard sell for me to get it passed in the Senate Prime Minister, but I think I can do it."
"The Persai Council will not allow your honor to be besmirched, Prime Minister," growled Tarrov.
Hoolas stood and stretched her long arm across the table to touch Bezled's arm in a very human gesture. "The Benii agree to your proposal."
Bezled sat back, relieved the proposal had won their support. Now all they had to do was make the proposal a reality.
#
Rebecca Coston entered the underground rail car with her small entourage and security detail for the short journey back to her offices on the far side of Lake Geneva, her thoughts a mix of the Garundan proposal, the Earth First movement, and repeated images of the aging Tarrov. The Garundan decision to invoke Yolva on behalf of the Others was going to cause her a big political headache and it could only provide more ammunition, if any was needed, to the Earth First movement. She could already imagine the news vids full of strutting, self-centered senators, airing their opinions. A faint sickly feeling entered her stomach at the thought of them, preaching their isolationist views to all and sundry. Had these people never bothered to read human history? Isolationism didn’t work! The Earth First advocates asserted Earth’s interests were best served by keeping the affairs of other planets at a distance. One possible motivation for limiting inter-planetary involvement was to avoid being drawn into dangerous and otherwise undesirable conflicts. There was also a perceived benefit from avoiding inter-planetary trade agreements or other mutual assistance pacts. Rebecca suspected the real reason behind the growing Earth First movement was the pressure being put on certain political representatives by big business, who thought being outside the Commonwealth economic and trade treaties would give them more bargaining power, as well as allowing them a free hand when it came to exploiting mining and colonization rights. It always comes down to money, thought Rebecca, shaking her head.
"Jacob,” she addressed her aide, “could you reach out to Secretary Helsett and Secretary Manning and ask them to make themselves available for a meeting with me this afternoon?"
"Certainly, Madam President." The young aide began tapping away furiously on his PAD as he sent requests off to the staffs of Secretary of Defense and the Secretary of Finance, warning them the president required their presence at a time to be confirmed. Then he began shuffling through Rebecca's appointments for the day, in an effort to find the most convenient time in her schedule for the meeting. No mean feat.
Rebecca allowed herself a small moment of amusement as she reflected on how much mayhem she had now caused two cabinet secretaries and a presidential aide. The moment evaporated when the carriage slowed as it passed through the blast doors before coming to a smooth stop adjacent to the platform deep below the skyscraper housing the offices of the president. The doors slid silently apart and Rebecca stood as her security detail formed its protective bubble around her. Oh well, back to work.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Awakenings
SLIVINO VALLEY - NORTHERN ITALY - EARTH - SOL SYSTEM
Seaton Anderson urged his horse up the steep path as the loose rocks slipped from under its hooves, cascading down the bluff and into the valley below. The rider behind him let out a half-concealed curse as his own horse sensed the doubt of the lead horse, but a quick prod with his spurs and the horse moved up. Reaching the top of the bluff, Seaton reined in his mount and got down from the saddle to watch his companion cover the last few meters of the path.
A sweating and out o
f breath Bryer Anderson dismounted and joined his uncle, who was staring out over the valley. Bryer went to say something but for some reason he hesitated and instead cast his eyes over the breathtaking beauty of summer in Northern Italy. Here and there, you could just make out the roofs of the ultramodern hunting lodges used by Seaton's guests poking up through the trees, but even those stylish lodges were put to shame by the massive edifice, which sat at the far end of the valley. Rising like a rock outcropping from the green forest sea that was the valley floor stood the imposing five-story mock-medieval castle that was Seaton Anderson's home and, since his indictment, prison. A magnificent prison, but a prison all the same.
Since his arrival on the estate two days before, Bryer had attempted to speak to his uncle of his plans for the future, but each time Seaton avoided the question and instead engaged in mundane conversation. However, over breakfast this morning, he had invited Bryer to go riding with him.
Bryer hated riding and had only learned at the insistence of his father, who firmly believed that every gentleman should know how to handle a horse. However, Bryer caught the unspoken order in his uncle's request. He changed into the riding clothes the servants laid out for him and joined his uncle on what turned out to be a more arduous ride than he ever imagined. After three hours, they reached the top of the bluff. It seemed Seaton was at last ready to take a break.
"Isn’t the view spectacular, Bryer?"
"Yes it is, Uncle," Bryer answered, struggling to keep the exasperation from his voice.
Seaton turned to face his nephew and saw that the tone of Bryer's voice was reflected in the obvious frustration on his face. "Bryer. As you know, because of this infuriating court business, I am restricted to living on this estate and even more annoyingly I’m no longer in direct control of the company I spent my life building. All that ends today."
Bryer's frustration left him only to be replaced by a strong sense of occasion, a forthcoming announcement of momentous proportions, he thought.
"This evening, we are having dinner with my chief legal adviser, who will bring with him papers for me to sign. Those papers will transfer my stock in Zurich Lines to you. With it, you will have complete control of the company and once more an Anderson will be at the helm."
Bryer’s breath caught in his throat and he actually took a step backwards at his uncle's news. He knew Seaton must have something up his sleeve when the old goat somehow managed to release him from his naval service. Bryer had had his suspicions. He had dared to dream. Now, Seaton had confirmed that he was indeed handing him control of the single biggest shipping line in Commonwealth space. A company worth billions.
Seaton gave his nephew a few moments to take in the news before he went on. "Bryer, our family has a great many enemies both in business and in government who would like nothing more than to see my life’s work destroyed before my eyes. With this court ruling, they’ve effectively sidelined me and think they have a free hand, but with you in charge, we can stop them. I, of course, cannot take any active part in company affairs..." A sly smile creased the older man’s face. "But I'm sure you’ll be open to taking a little friendly advice from your uncle now and then?"
Bryer snorted with laughter. "Your advice is always welcome, Uncle."
"I believe our first order of business must be to insulate the company from the financial madness of the Coston government. It’s too late to stop her from signing the independence of Janus into law, but it’s not too late to ensure that our investments in future colonies are protected."
Seaton paused, waiting to see if Bryer could envisage the plan the older Anderson had formulated on the long, lonely nights spent in his gilded cage. A spark of understanding came to Bryer's eyes.
"Coston may be retiring after the next election, but we need to prevent her successor from granting the same loan moratoriums to more colonies potentially wanting independence. We would have to radically change government policy..."
Seaton waited patiently, letting Bryer work through the problem.
"And the best way to change government policy is from within... We would need a president who thinks the same way we do."
"Exactly, Bryer. A president who believes any colony Earth establishes should remain the property of Earth, no matter what those damn Commonwealth idealists have to say. A president who is willing to stand up to the Commonwealth and whom puts Earth and Earth’s businesses first and if the Commonwealth doesn’t like the idea, then the president must be willing to tell them to go to hell. Pull out of the Commonwealth and go it alone. Let’s see how well they would do without the industrial might of Earth propping them up, eh?"
Bryer warmed to the subject. For his uncle, this may all be about securing the future of Zurich Lines, but with the power that control of the company would bring him, combined with a friendly president, there would be nothing to stop Bryer from settling some very personal scores. First things first, though. Business, then pleasure.
"I take it, Uncle, you have a man in mind for the job?"
Seaton turned away from the view of the lush valley and remounted his horse. "I do, Bryer. But first I have something to show you which may give us the leverage we need to ensure our man gets elected."
Bryer, reinvigorated, swung himself up onto his own steed. "Would it have anything to do with how you managed to release me from my naval duties so easily?"
Seaton tapped the side of his nose with a finger as he led the laughing Bryer off down the trail and into a heavily wooded area.
#
2287 LIGHT YEARS FROM EARTH
The faint, regular rhythm of his beating heart came to him as his brain fought to disperse the fog of his long sleep and he struggled to full consciousness. The tingling sensation all over his body, like static electricity, slowly dissipated. His breath passes over chilled lips. Voices, faint to begin with, but now becoming clearer, come to his ears.
"Supreme Leader. Supreme Leader, can you hear me?"
With effort, he forces his eyes open and squints in the harsh artificial light. He tries to speak but only a crackling croak escapes him.
"Water for the Supreme Leader. And be quick about it!" He hears the insistent voice clearly now.
Focusing his vision, he turns his head on its stiff neck in the direction of the speaker, who slowly swims into vision.
"Stop fussing like an old woman, Lorai. I just need a moment."
"Of course, Supreme Leader, excuse my unprofessional outburst. It is just that we have waited so long for your return and now the time is at hand I find myself overawed by the moment."
Lorai's comment brought a burning question to the Supreme Leader’s lips. "How long have I been in cryogenic sleep, Lorai?"
"According to the master AIs clock, you have been sleeping for 1132 years."
The Supreme Leader let the enormity of the number sink in. He and his followers had known that by selecting the lesser half-breed race they had stumbled upon while fleeing from the Elders, it would ensure they bought the requisite time to allow Lorai and her fellow geneticists to produce the tools to achieve his goal of his people becoming the true inheritors of the stars. Not those filthy, inferior half-breeds to whom the Elders were willing to sacrifice their own people’s place in the stars.
Time had been the key. Time for the automated shipyards to build the required number of warships but, more importantly, time to build an army of faithful followers to operate those ships.
But 1132 years. How the universe must have changed while he and his followers slept, watched over by the master AI. Bracing himself against the sides of the cryogenic cylinder, he sat up. His head was dizzy and his limbs weak.
"Assist me, Lorai."
Lorai and one of her team immediately moved to the Supreme Leader’s side, lifting him clear of the cylinder and into the waiting chair. Once his brain cleared again, he was ready to ask his next question.
"And what of the others, Lorai? Have they all survived?"
The slightest hesitation in he
r voice suggested the answer might not be to his liking. "As per programming, the master AI awoke myself and the medical team first. I am happy to report that ninety-three percent of all those placed into cryogenic sleep survived."
"Who did we lose, Lorai?"
When she failed to reply, he went to ask the question again but he held his tongue instead, looking deep into her eyes. "Harama?"
Lorai did not trust her voice to reply. She cast her eyes downward and nodded slowly.
The Supreme Leader and his wife Harama, along with all the others, knew the risk of such a long cryogenic sleep. Nevertheless, it had seemed the only way to ensure enough time passed for the leader’s plans to come to fruition. His mind brought to him the final view of Harama’s warm, loving eyes looking back at him as the cylinders sealed closed. His eyes screwed tightly shut as he repelled his grief and locked it away until he could find the time to mourn properly. Another martyr to the cause whose life would be celebrated after the ultimate victory was achieved.
"Anyone else?"
"A few officers and other ranks but all the senior officers and scientific staff have survived remarkably well."
"And what of the breeding program?"
"If I may, Supreme Leader?" At his nod of consent, Lorai approached the seat and with the tap of a small control, the chair raised itself a few inches off the metal floor on its repulsors, allowing Lorai to move it easily with one hand until she stopped it in front of an innocuous-looking metal wall. The touch of another key and the seemingly solid wall seemed to shimmer in front of his eyes until it became clear as the highest quality glass. The Supreme Leader’s breath caught in his chest. Laid out before him were curving green fields. Farm buildings surrounded by crops interlaced with streams and rivers. In the distance, he saw larger settlements, their buildings low and spread out on the edge of where the rivers flowed into a shimmering rich blue sea, upon which he could barely make out the sails of tall ships. Light, fluffy clouds moved slowly in the sky. And there, hovering so close you thought you might reach out and touch it, was a pale red star.
