Quincy looked embarrassed and flustered but held his chin up and made a brave show. “I am a statistician working for the Deputy Under Secretary of Commerce for International Trade’s Texas office, tracking potential cross border trade that unfortunately doesn’t exist at the moment. At least not officially. Therefore, my superior felt I had time free to pursue this when requested by State. I’ll have the letter of request from State and my superior’s assignment among my credentials.”
“I’m sure that is well thought out to avoid an overly optimistic public appearance,” Nick said smoothly. Privately he figured this was their way of telling him they didn’t take it seriously. Oddly, his first fear was not for his career but for North America if Singh thought he was being treated with contempt.
“I have a video copy of the intercept that created this crisis,” Nick said. “I understand Singh, who commanded the action is releasing it to the public. I’ll give you a copy right now. I think you’ll find it worth taking the time to view.”
* * *
On Home, the three reporters were sitting around a table sharing a beer while their video techs were at another table trying to outdo each other with stories about the stupidest things they had ever seen their bosses do. The Australian was winning with a magnificent story about his reporter, Leo, standing with his back to the water recounting how a huge saltwater croc had dragged a local to his death. In the monitor, he could see two nostrils and eyeballs silently gliding closer and closer behind him.
“You didn’t warn him?” the Mouse cameraman asked.
“Would you? Think of what that would have done for my career for the great beast to leap out of the muddy water and drag the bloody idiot away screaming in the mic.”
They both smiled picturing what a great shot that would be.
“Come on,” his reporter said coming up to the video techs’ table. “We’re going to go get some man in the street reactions to this farce the North Americans are committing.”
“What farce?” the cameraman asked. The other reporters arrived to gather their cameramen too, so they’d all agreed to go do this.
“State is responding to the Hawaiian call for talks by sending over some nobody from Commerce. Some number pounder who has never held a press conference in his life and knows as much about high-level negotiations as the janitor.”
* * *
“Just what in the hell were you thinking?” The Secretary of State asked the Third Undersecretary of State.
“It seemed like as good a way as any to say we didn’t regard the invitation as serious. Perhaps I should have consulted with you first,” he admitted, “and maybe saying it after I had a three-drink lunch was unwise too. You can repudiate it now if you want before they meet.”
“That gives me the choice between looking like I’m an idiot with no control over my subordinates, or a snarky flaming jackass insulting the Homies with a vicious snubbing.”
“Number two sounds safer,” his subordinate said. “Nobody likes the Spacers.”
“Indeed. We’ll let them talk and then repudiate the deal, not the negotiator. What kind of an agreement can some nerdy number juggler come up with?”
* * *
There were three sets of the pain-in-the-butt Earthie news people spaced out along the main business corridor near the Old Cafeteria trying to interview genuine Spacers. Most of the people were just waving them off or making ruder gestures. Irwin Hall came out of the Bank headed to get a bit of lunch. He’d have waved the reporter away and kept walking except he was in kind of a foul mood today and ready to yell at someone. That’s one reason he’d decided to go to lunch, to avoid yelling at a valued employee and regretting it later.
“Sir, can I ask your opinion about the peace talks the Hawaiians are volunteering to hold between the USNA and Home?”
“You could, but you’ll never get it right,” Irwin told him. “You already don’t understand they are dealing with Central foremost, not Home. It’s the Sovereign of Central who laid down the law on the L1 limit. The Assembly here formally adopted that. I can assure you we all support it.”
“Alright, the Moon Queen then,” Bart for Disney said agreeably. “Do you think North America can get an agreement with her?”
Irwin grimaced at the oft-repeated Moon Queen title.
“I haven’t spoken to her or her partners, but I know them. I’d bet a solar at even odds she’ll send Jeffery Singh to negotiate. From what I saw on the news from down there this morning they are sending somebody so very junior to speak for them that they won’t have any trouble later rejecting any agreement he comes to. I think it obvious they are doing so in bad faith from the start. Earth diplomacy has always proved false. Diplomacy is just another way they wage war without actually shooting. Then, when they change their mind and want to start shooting again after a pause, their word is shown to be valueless.
“You don’t recognize me, I can tell. I’m the head of the Private Bank.” Irwin pointed back down the corridor at his offices. “I’m the fellow the North Americans recently imprisoned because I had the bad luck to have my transonic do an emergency landing in Miami. You picked a very bad person to interview. My experience with the North Americans is they are disorganized, hostile, liars. But all that doesn’t matter at the end of these negotiations.”
“That seems a contradictory statement to me,” Bart said.
Irwin shook his head no. “It doesn’t matter because he’s negotiating with Jeff Singh. If they come to an agreement with him and break it, the man will accept no excuse. Singh won’t care for their self-serving reasoning. Reality is, I’d just as soon slit my throat with a dull butter knife as break a contract with Singh.”
“Thank you for your take on it. I’m Bart Pollard for Disney News at Home. Cut. Let’s see who else will talk to us,” he told his cameraman.
Might as well have talked to a brick wall, Irwin thought as he walked away.
* * *
Jeff was impressed with the added security when he landed. There was a circle of massive concrete barriers fifty meters out from the SpaceX target. The only gap was filled with two armored vehicles side by side. They weren’t tanks, he doubted the North Americans left any of those behind, but they were much heavier than the personnel carrier he’d been assigned before.
There was a serious looking anti-air missile battery on a mobile launcher a couple of hundred meters away, and four more of the armored vehicles spaced in a big square at about the same distance. Johnson and he went down the hull rungs because they didn’t bring the cherry picker this time. Otis and Mackay rode the crane down armored up. The rungs were too small to descend easily in the armor, something they’d fix next refit.
Brockman and Friedman, senior partners from the same firm, stayed behind in the ship. Jeff had all the heavy hitters from the firm with him. The two would stay with the vessel, one in armor at all times, and protect it. They had sanitary facilities and basic food jammed in the hold with their acceleration couches. They were quite comfortable to sleep, but they didn’t expect this to drag on very long. While both of them were armored up Brockman and Friedman came down to meet their Hawaiian security.
Otis carried Jeff and Johnson’s soft luggage. It was easy in powered armor and left Mackay hands free to quickly deal with any threat. A government limo was waiting to take them to April’s house where Johnson would remain. His only job was to fly the ship out if something happened to Jeff. Having April in the same place as Jeff while dealing with North America seemed too much of a temptation. Johnson was picked because he was simply the best at taking ship or rover through impossible situations.
Jeff was happy to see the limo to take them to April’s was huge since the two in armor were rather bulky. Inside Nick Naito was waiting with the Prime Minister, John Tanaka. He surprised Jeff by not looking Japanese at all. Neither did he look particularly happy to see them.
“Naito here, blind-sided me with a fait accompli,” Tanaka said. “I don’t like who the North A
mericans are sending, and I think the whole thing smells to high heaven. I’m just hoping it isn’t set up to fail from your side too, and we don’t end up looking foolish. We have enough trouble with our new independence without North America deliberately laying a big fat failure here at our feet.
“On the other hand, if it succeeds, I can’t reasonably begrudge Naito a measure of glory for pulling it off if it makes us look good. He’s assured me in modesty that he isn’t doing this because he has any designs on my job, being twenty years younger. I take that as a polite way of saying he’ll patiently wait for me to retire rather than having no interest at all. Whatever else I think about him, Nick has never lied to me through all the years we were fellow revolutionaries - not that I could catch him at, and he’s one of two I can say that about.
“I’m still not sure how he pulled this off. He claims informal contacts at an unlikely level. I’d like to hear from you that you intend to negotiate in good faith, and aren’t here just to make the North Americans look bad for refusing to deal. I’m still not certain it wouldn’t be smarter to kick you both out to seek a different venue.”
“I’m a peer to my sovereign, and intimate with her as a friend, confidant, and business partner,” Jeff said. “I’ll tell you exactly what she instructed me to do. She said to get us the best deal possible. We are concerned there is talk and signs the Americans are foolish enough to make total war with us again if I fail.”
“So it is a matter of survival for you,” Tanaka said.
“Yes, but it’s a matter of survival for them too. They just may not believe it.”
“Convince me,” Tanaka said.
“Is it important to what happens that you believe?” Jeff asked.
“You are not the only one with whom I will speak,” Tanaka said sharply. “I have yet to speak to Mr. Love. He’s on his way here and I’ll take him to his hotel just like I’m receiving you. He may ask if I took the measure of you, having met you first, and ask me what my impressions were. I know Naito here favors you, but I’m frankly more neutral.”
“Fair enough. I will yield something. I don’t know what yet. But I just won’t let the North Americans or any Earthies freely roam the Solar System armed and in danger of bringing the constant war and strife of Earth to the heavens.
“If it comes to war, my Lady April, another peer, said she stands ready to devastate North America from the fiftieth parallel north to the end of the Baja and Key West. She cited a target of removing eighty percent of their population and seventy percent of their industry. We held back in the last war and what did it benefit us? This time she figures the Canadians and Texas would divvy up the remnants afterward and North America wouldn’t exist again as a whole in any reasonable time frame.”
“What of the vast stretch of Mexico? The Texans are surrounded,” Tanaka objected.
“My Lady dismisses the Mexicans as lost already to Texas and just oblivious to the fact they will be absorbed.”
Tanaka considered that thoughtfully. “Perhaps you should have brought this strategist along to advise you or even speak with Mr. Love.”
“Both April and I have survived assassination attempts. We are trying not to tempt the North Americans, or the Chinese for that matter, with too tempting a target.”
“Perhaps I should have greeted you by com,” Tanaka joked.
“Perhaps you with me makes a better target than myself alone,” Jeff said.
That didn’t make Tanaka look any happier.
Otis Duggan cleared his faceplate and looked at Jeff. “A question, My Lord. In the event we are attacked, should we save the Prime Minister and his party after seeing to your safety?”
“That is a duty any time one is a guest,” Jeff answered.
Otis just nodded and let his faceplate go back opaque.
The Prime Minister went back down the hill alone.
* * *
“Since when do you call me My Lord?”, Jeff asked Otis.
“Since we met a snippy little jerk of a Prime Minister who doesn’t respect you.”
“Thank you. I don’t know if it helps, but it can’t hurt,” Jeff said. “You notice he never asked who Johnson is or his function? That was dismissive. I’m not keen on social things but even I picked up on it that normal introductions and courtesies were missing.
“First things first. Have Nick show you the hidey-hole and the secret tunnel.”
“Secret tunnel? Oh, crisp,” Otis declared.
* * *
“You have no entourage?” Tanaka asked when he picked up Love at the airport.
“No, I’m traveling light. The plane is going back to the mainland too, until such a time as I’m done and recall it.”
“I can’t leave you unguarded,” Tanaka said. “I feel responsible for your safety as our guest. There is a car of National Police that follows me. I’ll have two of them assigned to sit guard outside your suite and to accompany you when you meet with Singh. Have you agreed with him on a meeting place or do you need us to provide a neutral site? These sorts of diplomatic conferences usually have months of lead time to arrange these things, not days, so there is so much unsaid and unplanned.”
“I thought I’d just get the use of a conference room from the hotel. They must have several available for business meetings. If Singh is in another hotel, he might have similar facilities available. Does he have a large… entourage that we’d need a bigger facility?”
“He’s staying in a private home a friend owns here. I just delivered him there not long ago. It’s up a high ridge looking over a forest preserve. He only has some sort of assistant and two bodyguards. He left everyone else with his ship.”
“Give me his number and I’ll call and arrange something with him,” Love said, holding out his pad to get the comlink.
Tanaka did feel vaguely uneasy over the informality of it. Yet it wasn’t his place to carry messages between them. Why didn’t the man at least have an aide to assist?
Love chatted directly with Singh. It seemed he answered his phone directly, so the fellow with him wasn’t a secretary. Tanaka was scandalized. Love sounded more like he was making a dinner date with a friend than a diplomat.
“Well that’s easier,” Love announced when he closed his phone. “You can take me right up the hill where you took Singh. He has a much nicer more comfortable place there any hotel conference room. He suggested I ask you to send a driver and car up the hill after so when I’m done, I can be taken to my hotel.”
“Do you want to give the home-court advantage to the man by meeting on his turf?” Tanaka asked. “Most diplomats spend the first days of a conference allowing their subordinates to argue over what shape table to sit around and who gets how many chairs and has to face the windows and such before they arrive at any substantive talks.”
“We’re not playing a basketball game. I’m rather short on a cheering section and audience, you may have noticed. If he thinks I’m giving a centimeter because it’s his room, he’s too big an idiot to have been trusted with this. Everybody thinks I’m a damn fool because I don’t have a fancy enough title. Let me tell you, I’ve worked for plenty of people with glorious titles too stupid to understand the plain numbers I laid out for them. I’ll take care of myself just fine,” Love said, “don’t you worry.”
Tanaka was shocked to silence. Where had all that come from? He thought Love was a quiet inoffensive little man and that Singh would eat him alive. Wow.
* * *
“Quincy Love,” he introduced himself and offered his hand.
“Jeff Singh.” He shook hands like it wasn’t an unknown or repulsive custom. Neither did he surreptitiously wipe it or hold it awkwardly like he didn’t know what to do with it now that it was defiled.
The armored-up pair, the other man, and Nick went off and left them alone. Love wondered if Nick would expect to sit in. The National Police conferred quietly with the armored security and one disappeared and one went out on the balcony overlooking the pool.
“Second-generation, but my dad lived here in Hawaii before we went up to M3, that is, Home. I’ve been back to India to meet aunts and uncles and visit, but I’m not culturally an Indian. My dad is, and even recently started wearing the bindi again to help him relate to others,” he said, touching himself between the eyebrows to illustrate. “My mother died here, that’s a long ugly story, but she didn’t go to Home with us. My dad remarried a Chinese lady after some time and remarried very well. How about you?”
“English on my Paternal side, various flavors of European for three generations. I’m not the sort to do genealogies. Great grandfather was well to do. It came back with my dad. He’s terribly disappointed I can’t stay excited about money. Culturally, I’m Midwest American. I’m a middle son so my father two has others to deflect his sole attention from me, thankfully. I really like numbers.”
“Your mom?” Jeff asks.
“She shops. Dad enables her. It seems to keep them both happy. That hasn’t encouraged me to get married. I’m still single,” Love said.
Jeff decided he owed a response. “I’m part of a triad,” he said watching Quincy’s face. “We’ve shared politics, business, and affections since we were tweens. Heather is the Sovereign of Central on the Moon and April and I are her peers but not the only ones. We have our own businesses and other things as well as shared, but declared a revolution together, which is a tremendous bonding event.”
“I’d expect so, if you survive it. It’s too far outside what is allowed to happen in North America to be able to imagine how different your life must be every day.”
“And yet, most of Home and Central are from North America. I just sold the Chinese colony on the Moon that I got as spoils of war from the Chinese. Their culture was so different I never did get a handle on it. I tried to alter things and got resistance to every change. I’m glad I finally unloaded it to somebody who speaks Mandarin. May he have the joy of it.”
A12 Who Can Own the Stars? Page 43
