Regan's Reach 2: Orbital Envy

by Mark G Brewer

  "And what of the Americans Andrei, and the Chinese, can we work with them?"

  "That is the beauty of this vasily," he giggled in excitement, unable to contain it any longer, and then shut off any comment with a stern look. "According to intelligence The Americans and Chinese have already space on the Hillary Step." He couldn't restrain himself and laughed again, clasping his hands and bending over in excitement as the implications of the timing hit him. "Don't you see? We can ask that as USA and China already have presence, in fact their own base in orbit, is it not logical that as the only other senior member of the Security Council, Russia is the obvious member to take on this oversight role of Hillary Station, on behalf of the world of course."

  The PM smiled. "Of course Andrei, that makes perfect sense." He stood and raised his glass. Sokolov reached for his own, topped it to the brim and they toasted good providence.

  * * *

  Prime Minister Michael Tremblay of Canada sat uncomfortably listening to the disingenuous discussion, both sides clearly with other agenda's, both sides clearly in no mind to help the other. President Sokolov preferred to remain silent allowing his senior aide to do the talking, occasionally leaning across to whisper comments in his assistant's ear. How good is his English really? Tremblay knew his own presence was a token gesture, something to give the veneer of unity and openness to discussions. He looked across at the Chinese representatives likewise, mostly silent and revealing very little of what they followed or didn't. Such a handy negotiation tactic, Tremblay mused to himself, to be able to pretend misunderstanding whenever it suits. He smiled wryly and noted the increasing tension displayed on Sokolov's face, the calm, slightly smug reasonableness of President Johnston and the blank, give nothing away demeanor of the Chinese. The surprise in the room was Kevin Stein. Not just his presence which came as a shock but his own calm demeanor. And his legal counsel, Marcus Jackson, poker faced and confident. Shouldn't these two be overawed? I would be . . . Shit, I am!

  "Gentlemen," Stein gestured with his hands, opening them wide, a picture of reason among this insanity. "I fail to see anything to debate here. STEIN is a New Zealand company and Hillary Station is a privately owned entity of that company. We are not for sale and we intend to continue our work with the now thirty five nations on station. Further, over the last four years we have become the most experienced group operating in space. To suggest that any other party has the ability to usurp our position is, well, ridiculous. We are open to contributions but with respect Mr. Sokolov," He turned and nodded in deference to the stern faced leader, "You have nothing that we need to continue our work. We totally reject any notion that there is a need for a New Zealand company to surrender control to any other nation or company. Not under any circumstance."

  The Russian leader whispered again to his aide.

  "President Sokolov points out that there is no debate Mr. Stein. Your presence is a courtesy and purely for information purposes. The UN Security Council acts in the interest of all nations and as senior members we are here to discuss the best means of transition . . ." The aide halted, noting the raised hand of President Johnston.

  "With respect sir," and Johnston nodded in Sokolov's direction, "and to you Andrei, nothing is decided. It seems to us STEIN is doing an excellent job in space development, and the United States is loathe to interfere in the workings of any private enterprise."

  Sokolov's face turned like thunder and he stood. "We have agreement!" He glared at the US President.

  "Andrei," Johnston appealed to him, "we had an understanding prior to the last meeting but events have transpired that make those earlier concerns moot. Surely you can see that. STEIN has offered to assist all our programs." He placed his hands palm down on the table as if bracing himself. It had a look of finality. "We will exercise our veto over any decision to interfere on Hillary Station, for the good all."

  Sokolov, still standing, leant forward aggressively on the table as if he wanted to jump across and throttle the US President. He turned his head toward the Chinese Foreign Minister. The minister and his entourage looked back blankly, giving neither support nor anything away. Slowly Sokolov drew himself up to his full one point seven meter stature.

  "Then there is nothing further to discuss." He turned and stalked from the room, more strut than stride.

  His aide stood slowly looking after the departing figure. For a moment he appeared ready to speak, and then thought better of it. He quickly gathered his papers and followed Sokolov to the door.

  Tremblay found he had been holding his breath and now let it out, almost in a whistle.

  It was Marcus Jackson who spoke first.

  "Hmm, that went well!"

  The Russians, along with security made their way to the lifts. Tight lipped, Sokolov stewed quietly, furious but not surprised. Earlier exchanges with the American President had already shown him the ground had shifted. The Americans were comfortable now, if not completely happy with their Hillary Step. They had their own smug foothold in space and using that bridge they would begin to consolidate their position. As for the Chinese, who knows the thinking of those people? They play a long game. This isn't over.

  He entered the lift then raised his hand, stopping his entourage at the doors. Without any word of explanation he entered alone before pressing for his floor. The doors closed behind him. He waited until the lift began to move then hit the emergency button. They would panic he knew but a few minutes grace would be enough. Sokolov quickly reached for his mobile and dialed.

  There were no introductions. "Are the dispatchers in place?"

  "In place and ready Andrei . . ."

  "It is as we expected . . . They will not leave us behind."

  "Your instructions?"

  "China Sea and Hillary."

  There was a click. The call ended.

  * * *

  The China Sea

  The sea appeared to boil as the massive nuclear sub neared the surface. Purpose built, not for speed or stealth this bulbous hull had an altogether different task, delivery of its deadly one time payload, all or nothing. Doors on the upper hull slid open, seawater spilling into the interior as the vessel continued to rise. Contiguous with this, smoke and steam could be seen billowing from the opening as the missile began its launch for freedom and death.

  Five minutes later the huge missile was already passing through the upper atmosphere, its journey moonward. No communications were possible as disguise of its origin was essential. News broadcasts were already reporting the launch of a Chinese ASAT anti-satellite missile.

  Whether it could or would reach its destination was immaterial. Its aims were more earth bound; those of fear, rumor, accusation and counteraccusation. The intention, purely destabilization and it would be well supported in that goal.

  * * *

  The STEIN Traveler

  In deep space the Sphere appeared to hang, suspended from nothing. In truth it continued on the same path, going nowhere, coasting fast. Path and distance travelled were an irrelevance in the wider scheme of things, at warp speeds they could be back in no time. For the moment as they raced further and further into the black they were effectively parked. Attentions were elsewhere, there was an operation to perform.

  Together they viewed the body as if from a distance. Regan found she had increasingly become quite detached from this form. Even when Ham performed the hemispherectomy she had felt it was someone else on the gurney, not her. Having determined that what remained of the left brain was severely compromised, that bone fragments, bleeding and clots rendered it non viable, Ham felt it best they start from scratch. The left brain would soon be gone.

  He pointed out helpfully, that although the operation he was about to perform was most often performed on children, there existed much evidence that the right brain does recover and often with no significant effect on memory, personality or humor. [You'll still be able to wind me up mercilessly] he offered to encourage her.

  They were both playing the game of
denial. The same information available to Ham she could also access. She knew full well that a child's brain has more neuroplasticity, but what was the point of focusing on that? What choice do I really have anyway?

  [What about language Ham?]

  [When resecting the left brain it's true that some higher language functions, grammar for example may be compromised for you but then, you never showed much aptitude there anyway]

  [Ha bloody ha. What are the other risks?]

  [Regan] He sounded desperate, even subbing [it's not worth going through them, the risks are almost too numerous to mention. However my confidence in doing the operation is total. What I will find after we begin I can't say. We play the hand we've been dealt, and we do it well, that's all I can promise. One thing is certain, if I can make a viable connection between the implants and the right brain then language and any other higher function will never be a problem for you again. Regan, are you comfortable with the power source?]

  [Well, I guess technically I won't ever be able to go home, we are supposed to be nuclear free, but the other advantages make it worth it. Anyway, you say the photoreceptor web is compromised so what are the other options anyway?]

  [There are none]

  [There you go then, I'm fine with it]

  [Then we should get onto this sooner rather than later. It's been two weeks already. I have the hardware, the knowledge, the plan of attack. Skin and bone culture is ready and Leah is prepared for her role. That only leaves your mother and Jared. Jean's getting Antsy but Jared is busy and happy with me. This only needs your 'go' now babe. I won't start without it]

  [You have it Ham, just let me have a few . . . last words, with them all. Then we can get into it. You can start getting ready]

  What on earth do I say to them?

  * * *

  The Saucer

  Marin was sleeping. Steph walked from the galley to control and sat with her coffee, curling her feet up under her, a picture so like Regan it annoyed Ham.

  "Quite comfortable I see. Nothing you'd like to know, learn, or do perhaps?"

  "Ham, I sense you have some problem with me. I don't get it. You need to give me a break"

  "Actually Stephanie, from the evidence you appear . . . pretty much unbreakable."

  "Sorry?" She looked confused for a second then, ". . . Oh! I am sorry; I tend to forget you're the unseen visitor in every room." She sounded annoyed.

  "Not every room. I can avoid those I don't want to share." His words conveyed the certainty that such rooms, at least at times, did exist.

  Neither spoke for some time. It was a standoff. Ham could stand it no longer.

  "How could you do this, she counts you as her best friend for goodness sake."

  "Do what?"

  "Seriously, you need to ask? How could you do this with Marin? In what universe would it be alright for you to just slip in like that?"

  Steph sat up straight in the chair. "You've lost me Ham, what are you talking about? Marin and Regan aren't an item. She told me herself it was ok, she just said to be careful."

  "Well what would she say; you'd already ridden the Marin!"

  "She told me, they're not monogamous."

  "Marin's people aren't, but anyway, that makes it ok, how?"

  Steph looked concerned. "What do you know Ham? Are you saying she's hurt about this? I'd never do anything to hurt her."

  "Well you didn't think too hard about that one did you?" He sighed "Look, I don't think she's hurt, it's more complicated than that, I just thought this would be ground no friend would explore, and explore, and explooore . . . do you ever tire?"

  "Now I'm getting embarrassed. Look, they're not exclusive, Marin told me all about it, that Jared wasn't his. Regan's had other partners too obviously. When she told me to go for it, well, what do I take from that?"

  "First, when she told you to go for it you'd already done the deed, it doesn't count. Second, what did Marin tell you?"

  "That Regan had been with others, that Jared wasn't his."

  "No, he wouldn't have said that, tell me exactly what Marin told you."

  She paused, looking concerned and thought for a moment. "I said he must be proud of his son. Then he told me that Jared wasn't his."

  "That's it?"

  "Yeah . . . that's it, why? Ham . . . what's going on here?"

  There followed a long pause. When Ham spoke again Stephanie was standing.

  His voice was leaden. "It's not for me to say Steph. Regan wouldn't be happy if I did. You need to talk to Marin."

  She looked behind her toward the small bunkroom where Marin was sleeping. She was about to move when Ham spoke again.

  "Stephanie . . . this isn't your fault, or Marin's. Sometimes things are hard to communicate, sometimes people don't communicate so well and sometimes . . . well, we hear what we want to hear."

  She reached the door and stood just looking at it, composing herself. A touch to the pad and it slid open. She could see Marin, curled in a tangled sheet, like a twisted pretzel. Quietly she stepped to the bunk. There was hardly room for one so she perched on the edge and regarded him for a moment, a wave of sadness passing through her. Something had changed, what she didn't know, but she could feel it already. It wouldn't be the same.

  "Marin . . ." She gently shook his shoulder.

  His eyes opened, ". . . Again?" and he smiled a sleepy smile.

  "No Marin, I need to talk."

  He shifted over to give her room so she sat at the base, facing him. "You said to me that Jared wasn't your son." Her look was intense and he shuffled back to sit against the wall.

  "That's right, I'm sad to say it. He isn't my son, he's a great child."

  "So . . . Regan had other lovers, on the orbital, that's right isn't it?"

  A look of intense pain came on his face. He took her hand. "No, I didn't say that. Only that Jared isn't my son."

  "I don't understand," she looked anxious, "Is pregnancy catching there or something, I thought she must have had a lover. Marin, what's going on?"

  Marin looked sideways desperately and said nothing. He was clearly thinking hard.

  She continued "Marin . . . You and I, I wouldn't have . . . Oh shit!" she paused, shaking her head. "I would have wanted to but I wouldn't have, if I'd known. What aren't you telling me?"

  He turned to face her, took both her hands and swallowed nervously. "Steph, Regan will kill me for saying anything, you need to understand that."

  "I need to know Marin. Something isn't right. I am her best friend."

  "She was raped Steph, by my step brothers."

  "The witches spawn!" Ham's voice boomed in the small room shocking them both.

  "Raped?" She looked away trying to gather her thoughts, a cold feeling settling over her.

  Marin continued. "When we got to the orbital I had to go into treatment for my injury. My mother . . ."

  "The witch!" Ham interrupted again.

  ". . . My mother put her in my brothers' custody. They raped and beat her."

  Stephanie looked ashen. The color and life seemed to drain from her body as the implications hit home. "She never said anything." Her voice was a whisper. She couldn't believe it and shook her head no!

  "She kept it to herself for Jared Steph, she didn't want anyone to know. She doesn't want it hanging over his head."

  Steph thought for a moment then stood and walked from the room. Outside she stopped desolate, desperate. "Where do I go in a fucking saucer?" She walked zombie like to the war room and curled up on the floor.

  Marin followed and she sensed rather than heard him at the door.

  She twisted and called, over her shoulder. "What happened to your fucking brothers?"

  Marin searched for the right words, picturing his brothers as he did so. He could still feel the anger and frustration churn his stomach. Bile rose into his throat.

  "She killed them." He didn't embellish.

  Steph groaned. It was utter despair and she rolled back into the corner.

/>   * * *

  Hillary Station

  "Butch, this is great!"

  "I'm not with you sir, what do you mean"

  "We've got our own man on Hillary, that's good enough for me. Lie low, don't make any waves, you know the drill. This could be very useful."

  "Uh-huh. Sir, you know the President seconded me here, as an advisor. There are no spies on Hillary, certainly not me." Rod looked at the ceiling and rolled his eyes.

  "Sure, sure . . . of course, just be ready when we need you, you savvy?"

  "I hear you sir, ready for what by the way."

  "I want you ready for anything, fuck it and I'm not sure I like your tone. Are we clear here?"

  "Yes sir, sorry sir, just a little space crazy I guess."

  "Ok then. You hear anything you think is important; you can contact us via The Step."

  A click signaled the call had ended. Rod sat for some time thinking until 'The Voice' intruded on his thinking.

  "You ok Rod?"

  "Honestly, I don't know what the fuck I am. That was my superiors superior Ham. They assume they have an inside man here. He may not have used the word but their expectations are spy for sure. And then on the other side I feel like if I'm on the team here . . . ah shit, I don't know who I'm working for."

  "Who's your Commander in Chief Rod?"

  "The President." There was no hesitation.

  "Then there's your answer. Just do what he's asked you to do. Represent him here on Hillary. We're your friends here, not the enemy. Regan allowed you here; she wants to be generous and welcoming. For the record though, don't cross her. Now, we have a two seated ADF to try out. Are you up for the co-pilots role, just for the moment?"