Authors: Mackey Chandler
"No Sir. We have no assets at all. Anything we would get would be from a person of unknown loyalty and unresolved issues. We could assign no confidence level to it."
"Have you thought perhaps just knowing what they
claim
the situation is might be better than nothing at all? Even allowing reservations, that it may be expressed to influence us?"
"Respectfully Sir. Intelligence can't work with such uncertainty at all."
"No I'm sure it can't. Sit here with me," he indicated a seat. He pivoted a flat screen around so they could both see it and punched a key. "Cheryl," he instructed his secretary, "the satellite station up in orbit, Mitsubishi 3. There is a traffic control there, which tells spacecraft where to dock and so forth. You can use the switchboard, or call Space Command in Colorado and get us the telephone number, or net address of the actual desk were the men sit and work."
"If you can't find it, have Space Command call on the radios they use to coordinate traffic and ask them for a number or address to call. We'll wait for it." He checked the clock in the corner of his screen. The CIA chief looked sternly disapproving.
It was almost five minutes before he had an address posted to his screen. It was quite an unaccustomed delay, but it wasn't often a President completely surprised them. A great many people worked to anticipate what he would need or want and have it ready. It was a computer address for a personal pad, [email protected]
President Hadley clicked on the address, getting a perverse pleasure from watching his guest squirm.
The screen showed a young Hispanic man of about thirty. He had a deep bronzed complexion with wavy dark hair and almost feminine dark eyebrows. He was dressed in a deep green hooded T, covered in intricate Boutis Provencal, with the hood thrown back and a gold chain showing at a his neck. He had on very conservative plain gold hoops in his ears and looked at the screen with a frown.
"You're President Hadley?" he asked with visible skepticism.
"Yes Mr. Martinez. I am. Why such a frown and doubting look?"
"Well, I'm not used to having the President of the USNA calling me up at work. However, I did just get a call from Earthside Traffic Control asking for my address, so I suppose it is possible."
"Who else would it possibly be other than who you are looking at on the screen?"
"You don't have kids do you?" Martinez asked, seemingly an abrupt topic switch.
"No," he admitted. "It's a matter of public record and I thought common knowledge."
"Well I have two little hellions, one eleven and one nine. I have to be constantly alert for their practical jokes. They would think it the height of comedy to call their old man up, with a program spoofing Hadley on their computer, translating his image, voice and mannerisms. They'd net broadcast the fun to their friends, to share how far they could jolly me along before I wise up. If you sprout horns, or ask me to undertake a secret mission to Jupiter to save the human race, the jig will be up. Only reason I'm halfway believing it's you, is your image is not all prettied up like when you do a speech. You look like a real person today."
So, thought Hadley, people aren't all fooled by improving his appearance. "The kids are really that good so young?" Hadley was rather amused at the idea.
"If they spoofed you your own mother wouldn't know. If they spoofed you on the moon and you got up and walked, they'd have the exact amount of clumsiness in your walk as you'd have as a newbie in low gravity. They could mask your image and drop you scaled properly in the middle of another scene being transmitted real time even. Technically they are very good. But their sense of humor and what they use it for are still at the eleven and nine year old level. Gross humor, fart jokes and fad heroes. I'm leaning to believing it is you more and more, because they'd have morphed you into a pig or a dragon by now. They don't have the
patience
for a long joke at their age, if it's not really cooking for them."
"Well, assuming for a moment you might truly be talking to me, would you be willing to let me ask you a couple questions about what's happening on the station?" The CIA chief looked like he was going to explode. There was a vein standing out on his forehead, which might pop any second.
"Sure, like I'd tell my boys, play it straight, tell the truth and it doesn't matter who is listening; Lie and eventually it will circle around and bit you on the butt."
It was almost too much for the CIA man. A refutation of everything he lived by.
"We lost contact with the force we sent to your station. Frankly we don't know anyone there to ask about the matter. Do you know if they've ran into some difficulties?"
"Mr. President," Ed looked sad. "I'm sorry to tell you there was fighting. I know the pilots and a couple of troopers, survived in the shuttle. But the ones who came on station - I think they all were killed. Nobody mentioned any survivors. I'm sorry if they were friends of yours."
The casualness of it shook Hadley. Even the CIA man when he glanced at him, had gone from beet red to a sickly pallor in seconds. The condolences even seemed sincere. They had expected verbal fencing, or avoidance. Not this blunt acknowledgment of slaughter. It gave it a ring of truth and no matter what he just said, the CIA chief looked like he believed it.
"Could you recount as much as you know to us. Please?"
"Mr. President I was working when the
Cincinnati
arrived. They did a fly around at a distance. They were very wary with their laser mast up and missile bays open. They informed me they were docking at the South hub and they asked me what the situation was inside M3. I was offended at being put on the spot, but I told them we had a pressure emergency warning announced because of them docking and many people, including my family had put on pressure suits."
"They were aware the
Happy Lewis
is present at M3 and they might experience resistance. Shortly after they docked there was a huge explosion and the shuttle was folded in half and blown clear of the station. We heard it here - felt it through the floor. So I know that much is not just a story. As dispatcher I called for medical services and an ambulance went to see if they could render any help. The troopers surviving on the shuttle forced the medics off their ambulance at gun point and left the injured and the medics near the damaged shuttle and took the stolen ambulance to the North hub, where they entered pressure. There was a tug dispatched to bring the wreck back in, so they had to be the ones to rescue the medics and the survivors."
"In our town meeting yesterday, they said one of the troopers was still in danger, as his mates left him behind when they stole the ambulance, so he didn't get to the infirmary for almost two hours. The ones who came in through the North they said got as far as the Holiday Inn, before they were killed. From what my friends told me, there are bullet holes and laser burns in the industrial corridors half way across the station from the fight. Housekeeping will be doing repairs for a week. I haven't seen it myself because I live near the South end where I work. The people who told me about it I do trust. I personally believe them, just haven't seen it. That's all I really know."
"Do you know what happened to the prisoners?"
Ed looked at him funny. "You mean the pilots? The troopers are in the infirmary. Where the pilots went I don't know. I saw one sitting, observing the town meeting in the cafeteria yesterday. He looked bruised up pretty good. He was limping when he came in. The Holiday Inn was all shot up. They probably got a room in the Ramada. It's the only other full service hotel. The rest are either housekeeping units, or hot slots for shift sleeping. I can't imagine the militia people would worry about the pilots since they didn't come in armed and looking to take the place over. They're probably just stranded until they can get connections home. Why would they lock them up if they're not a danger? When people were told the dockage is damaged, nobody seemed to in any big rush to bring a shuttle in today. I'm sure there will be a few hire private shuttle runs to go Earthside through another station, by folks scared there will be more fighting, but nobody has called for traffic clearance yet this morning. I'm assuming you've cut off direct flights because there is usually a UPS shuttle today and it hasn't lifted even though the freight dockage is OK."
The President looked a question at the CIA head and he nodded yes.
"Yes, my man here just told me that is correct."
"Up to you," Ed shrugged with indifference. "I don't know how it helps either side to cut off travel. It just inconveniences a bunch of civilians and may panic them if they feel stranded. I mean, we're obviously not going to invade you."
The reasonableness of it was infuriating.
"Do you know who is behind this militia and resisting martial law? We intend to move to make an example of them quickly. This has gone way beyond criminal, it's treasonous. Surely most of the people on the station there are still loyal to their country!"
"Nobody ever told us there was any martial law to resist. But loyalty and to whom we owe it is what the town meeting was all about - whether to stay USNA or leave. Folks are discussing what they should do with each other all over the station. We agreed we'll all have a vote later today, to decide if we want to be our own nation. The way all my friends and neighbors were talking last night, the vote doesn't look very good for you. I expect Jon, the Security Head will be holding a press conference or something later today and making it official. They could surprise me," he admitted, "but I think the most of them will go for it."
"This is ridiculous." Hadley told him. "We settled this back in the Civil War. Nobody leaves the Union. Look what happened when they tried. And it was the whole South then, not just a couple thousand people living in a big tin can. It would be as silly and pointless, as if just the city of Atlanta had seceded and declared war on the North. You don't support this crazy idea yourself, do you man?"
For the first time Ed looked irritated. "You might have a little respect for the fact you guys are down five spacecraft to zero and your troopers were totally defeated. So far you have been the ones each time that decided to resort to violence and had it turn about and bite you on your own ass. Well the way things are going, you don't look like you're making an example of anyone. Nam-Kah and her husband made a pretty strong case to everyone, that they have new technologies to hurt you on Earth, as badly as you've been whipped in orbit."
"If I were you Sir, I would think real hard about what you should do. I'd sure hate to be in your spot, with this bunch overhead ready to really start getting rough, if you want to keep escalating this disagreement.
I
certainly wouldn't cross the Lewis or Singh clans after what I've heard, let me tell you."
"You can talk about the American Civil War all you want. I studied history too. I bet there were a lot of the winners after the War of Rebellion, who would have said, 'Let the damn Southerners go,' if they had known the full cost beforehand. But consider this. What would it have been like, if the South had atomic bombs and aircraft, against the muskets and cannon of the North? How many dead do
you
want on your conscience
man
?" he tossed the usage back in his face, growing angry.
"We are not down five to zero," the President growled at him. "Two of those ships were Chinese and
we
damn well nailed one of them, not you!"
The controller gave a haughty shrug of indifference. "Damn Earthies all look alike, when they're shooting at you," he snapped back.
"I want a clear statement from you Mr. Martinez," Hadley told him past clutched teeth. "Are you a loyal citizen of North America, or have you thrown in with these rebels? Your statements go over the line in condoning and praising their acts. I think you're just begging to be counted one of them."
"Well isn't this the way you guys always do business?" Ed asked. "If somebody has questions or reservations and don't suck up and fawn on you, they go on the shit list. I hadn't made up my mind if I'd vote myself in today, or sit it out and see what happened, but I can see I'm screwed with you for just telling you the truth. My family didn't resist when you guys forced Mexico in. We said –
'Hey, how much worse can they be than the Federales?'
Shit, if we'd only known,
lots
worse. I won't make the same mistake twice," he said and stabbed the disconnect.
He called up his fellow Mexican, Muños and told him about the conversation and sent a copy of the file with the video and conversation to him. "Go ahead and play it for everybody when we convene today if you want. I don't have anything to lose and it just shows what an ass the man really is."
Chapter 32
Genji Akira considered the news articles about M3 carefully. He felt a building worry, while his colleges were all dismissive of the crisis. None he spoke to could imagine this was more than a passing irritant to the North American Giant and an embarrassment to the Chinese. The frames of video from the BBC were laying on his desk, with a print of April standing outside the elevator, as he had seen her on M3. The Kashira on the end of the short sword was not visible in sufficient detail, but he was fairly sure from the Tsuba, it was the same one thrust through the Chinese officer in the BBC video. He wished he had remained on M3, instead of returning as he had been scheduled, but he had failed to see things were coming to a cusp of change rapidly, before he left. The Mainichi - Times Group might approve a quick return, for he was a star of the service, but he doubted if he could move quickly enough now to be there for anything of importance. Events were moving too fast. He was a little jealous of the stringer, who had sent him the other pix on his desk. He remembered the early exciting times he had covered action in the field and heard the bullets snap past, but he had to admit the young lady Adzusa, who had taken these pix, was particularly audacious.
Irritating in person he remembered, but brave. The images he had brought back and hers would blend together, for an important article. He'd have to give her a byline on it, which didn't bother him at all. Indeed, perhaps she would prove to be the fitting successor to him in time, that he had been seeking. He was very aware how much a change it had required in his culture, to be able to entertain such a thought across the gender barrier. He wrote for both print and web. This piece should run in both unabbreviated.