The Unincorporated Future (20 page)

“I’ll need full control of my department.”

“How could you do your job otherwise?” agreed Sandra.

“Very well, Madam President, I accept.”

Cabinet room
The Cliff House
Ceres

Sandra scanned the faces of all those present. This was their third meeting in as many days with the newly appointed Secretaries of Technology and Security, and the dynamic of the meetings was still in flux. This was no longer Justin’s Cabinet, even if three of the officers were from the Unincorporated Man’s time. Those present served Sandra, and now everyone knew it—even if some were still having a difficult time coming to terms.

She turned her head toward the Treasury Secretary. “What’s the good word?”

Mosh wasn’t the only one to notice that Sandra was starting all the meetings with him the way she’d started them with Kirk; it was a mark of respect. But given what had happened to Mosh’s former adversary, the suspicious side of him was not particularly happy or thrilled with the honor.

“Wish I had a few, Madam President. Much as I hate to say it, the Outer Alliance can no longer be considered an industrial power. The combined loss of the asteroid belt and now Jupiter’s and Ceres’s industrial and shipbuilding capacity, has taken all our sources of manufactured goods out of play. We have some small operations past the Kuiper Belt, but they can barely produce enough to provide maintenance of their own basic needs, much less the rest of the Alliance. Given the lack of personnel and needs of the war, it’ll take years before they could seriously begin to export the manufactured goods in the quantities required to keep the war effort going.”

A deathly silence filled the room.

“Besides that,” riffed Sandra, “how was the play, Mrs. Lincoln?”

The comment was followed by grim laughter.

“But there is some good news,” said Eleanor, looking over to Mosh. “Right, dear?”

Her comment elicited a round of smiles except from Mosh. It was obvious he was used to a certain amount of insult and hectoring from the chair his wife currently occupied, but it would take him a while to accept endearments from it. “As
my wife
”—he pointedly glared at Eleanor—“the Security Secretary, has so helpfully pointed out”—Eleanor returned his glare with an infuriatingly cheerful wave—“ours is not a position of permanent loss. The vast majority of the Belt’s manufacturing capacity has been rescued and is beginning to arrive in orbit around Saturn. What’s survived is being integrated into the Saturnian supply and traffic control belt. But it’ll be six more months or more before all the asteroids from the Belt are brought in and up to full capacity, even longer for the asteroids heading for Uranus and Neptune. We’ve also gotten extremely lucky with the Jovian Shipyards. The physical structure was destroyed, but all the components and personnel were prudently saved. As soon as we can get them here and in new asteroids, we’ll have the Jovian Shipyards back up and running.”

“Shouldn’t they then be called the Saturnian Shipyards?” asked Sinclair, harking back to an earlier political imbroglio.

“As a fellow Saturnian,” interjected Ayon, rewarding Admiral Sinclair with a pointed look, “I can think of nothing more appropriate than keeping the honorable, well-earned, and appropriate name of Jovian Shipyards, no matter where it chooses to make its home.”

Sinclair’s mouth dropped open as if to speak, but he was interrupted by the President.

“I move that an executive order be issued stating that the Jovian Shipyards will remain so named regardless of location. All in favor, signify by saying, ‘aye.’”

The vote was unanimous, with Admiral Sinclair’s “aye” trailing last.

“Rabbi,” said Sandra, pushing forward, “how long till the Jovian refugees are safely around Saturn and, more important, reintegrated with the Alliance economy?”

“Three to four months, depending on if the Holy One Blessed Be He chooses to give us the opportunity to overcome any more difficulties.”

Sandra, along with a few others in the room, laughed. “Please elaborate.”

Rabbi nodded. “We’re going to take the plow Admiral Black used to get here and send it back to Saturn, then use it to tidy up the path to Jupiter. Then we’ll escort the Jovians in one large convoy back to Saturn. Like I said, three to four months.”

Sandra threw out the next question to the room. “Do we have any news on how long it’ll take Ceres to reach orbit around Saturn?”

“Yes, Madam President,” Ayon answered. “At present, we’ll arrive in approximately one and half months. Trang did a lot of damage to the surface infrastructure, but it’s kinda hard to stop a rock of this size once in motion. And any damage he did to the surface channels that were ionizing the ice were quickly repaired by the malleability of the nano-created channels themselves.”

“It’ll be good to be home,” added Sinclair, “but it was never the way I thought I’d get there.”

“Secretary McKenzie,” Padamir said.

“Yes,” both Eleanor and Mosh answered.

From the look on Padamir’s face, it was obvious he’d gotten the result he wanted. “Secretary Singh,” chastised Sandra through the thin wisp of a smile, “a Secretary of Information should be more precise.”

“Of course, Madam President,” he said without a hint of contrition. “My humblest apologies to the husband and wife. I had meant to address the newest McKenzie”—Padamir looked directly at Mosh—“as opposed to the old … er one.”

Mosh smiled amiably. “I can assure you, Padamir, in our marriage, there’s very little opposition.”

“And how may I be of assistance?” asked Eleanor, the hint of mirth in her eyes.

“We’re receiving numerous reports of atrocities in the Belt. I need to know if the reports are true.”

“Could it be propaganda?”

“Yes. Much of which I’ll admit to fanning the flames of, but not this. If what my sources are telling me is true, we might be in trouble.”

“How so?” asked Sandra.

“If the UHF is indeed committing these atrocities and we do nothing, while it will certainly cause rage against their government, it will also cause resentment against ours.”

“We can do nothing for those who stayed behind,” Sinclair said wearily. “They had their chance.”

“While that may be true for some,” Rabbi said evenly, “it is not true for all. Many were too close to UHF forces during the initial phases of Diaspora, and had they fled, they most certainly would have died. And of those settlements in a position to flee, not all had the maneuvering thrusters that could get them on the way to the outer planets in time.”

Sinclair gave the Secretary of Relocation a sidelong glance. “And there were plenty still, Rabbi, who refused to leave their precious orbital slots, no matter how great the danger or how persistent our warnings.”

“And for that,” asked Rabbi with an uncharacteristically raised voice, “they must be condemned to death?”

“And for that, Rabbi, we must risk our lives?”

“Rabbi, Admiral, enough!” demanded Sandra. “Padamir is correct. Your brief discussion alone is a reminder of the volatility of this situation.” Sandra then looked over to Eleanor. “If you please.”

“Madam President, based on the reports of carnage and near randomness of the atrocities, it would appear as if they are
trying
to start a revolt. I can think of no other reason.”

“It would appear, then, that from a strictly moral point of view, we’d need some sort of response, most likely a military one.”

Eleanor’s look was perfectly political: noncommittal but supportive.

“A little dose of reality, here,” said Sinclair, his patience clearly at an end. “We have neither the manpower, resources, nor time for such an excursion.”

“You don’t actually have to liberate the Belt, Joshua,” said Padamir, “just placate a people who’ve fought this war for six years and as of now have nothing but lost homes and destroyed lives to show for it.”

“The fleet must guard the Outer Planets, Padamir. At least till we can rebuild an industrial base that can
then
rebuild the fleet. We have barely two hundred and fifty combat-ready ships, and that’s
with
Suchitra’s flotilla. Trang has four hundred plus with more coming online every day. It will take them time to train the crews, but Trang has a solid core of three hundred ships to build his new fleet on. When he attacks, and he
always
attacks, we will have to be ready”—Sinclair made a pointed look toward Rabbi—“dalliances in the Belt notwithstanding.”

Rabbi’s face tightened. “Dalliances—notwithstanding—have, for my flock at least, resulted in pogroms, death marches, cattle cars, and gas chambers. Perhaps if you—”

“This is obviously a bigger discussion,” interrupted Sandra, making sure to give Rabbi a reassuring nod. “For the sake of brevity, let’s move on with the knowledge that our new Secretary of Intelligence will keep us abreast of the situation and that further discussion is warranted.”

Eleanor nodded while Rabbi and Sinclair agreed, at least across the table, to disagree.

*   *   *

After the meeting ended, Sandra asked Eleanor join her in the Triangle Office. After a brief respite and the pouring of tea, Eleanor finally asked, “So what
are
we going to do about the asteroid belt?”

“Depends. How many of Kirk’s deep-cover ops have you accessed?”

“All of ’em, I should think. But the truth is, I’ll never be one hundred percent certain.” Eleanor’s eyes narrowed as she shot Sandra a look over the rim of her teacup. “Why? How many have
you
accessed?”

“All of ’em—I think.”

Eleanor put down her teacup. “What did you have in mind?”

“Kirk rarely messed up, but we spent month after stressful month together.”

“Yes?”

“Part of me assumed his ‘accidental’ slipup was purposeful, make me think he was better at his job than he actually was.”

Eleanor listened intently.

“An assassin. Pretty sure it’s a woman—possibly close enough to Hektor to have a shot. It’s all I know,” said Sandra.

Eleanor McKenzie’s demeanor suddenly changed from the somewhat dowdy Congresswoman so familiar to the public and even Cabinet members to that of a woman who’d seen too much and was tired of it all. “He wasn’t lying,” she said, “not about any of it.”

“Good, then. Because Hektor needs to die.”

“I’m pretty sure that point is patently obvious to every citizen of the OA.”

“True, but you and I both know the advantages of keeping the enemy you know from being replaced by the enemy you don’t. Suffice it to say, I think we’re past that time. Every instinct I have tells me with Sambianco dead, the UHF will make a deal. With him alive, the war will continue even if it comes down to chucking spears.”

Eleanor nodded grimly. “Because it’s personal.”

“Yes. Frankly, it would be better if the UHF were battered some more for a deal to have the maximum chance of success, but I cannot order the deaths of more human beings, even if they’re the enemy, when there’s another way.”

“You do realize, Madam President, that we’ll lose one of the most productive sources of information and one of the best support elements we have in the UHF.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re really willing to sacrifice this source, knowing we’ll really get only one shot on goal?” Eleanor gave Sandra a hard look. “Madam President, I must ask this. Are you giving this order for the right reason?”

“You’re asking if the decision is based on my animus toward Hektor?”

Eleanor nodded.

“Then the answer is yes, it is.”

Eleanor shifted uncomfortably and was about to speak when Sandra, with a motion of her hand, indicated she was not finished.

“Is that a factor in wanting him dead
now
?” Sandra paused. “I honestly don’t know. But if I let my anger at him keep me from acting when I should, he’ll have been just as successful as if he got me to act on something when I shouldn’t have. The only thing I can say is this: I honestly believe if Hektor had never said a word, I would have come to this exact same conclusion for the reasons I gave earlier. Will I take a great deal more pleasure out of it than I should? Hell yes. But it’s still the right thing to do. Am I wrong, Eleanor?”

“No, I don’t think so, Madam President. But that doesn’t make it an easier order to follow.”

Sandra looked at the woman sitting across from her.
You turned the man you loved into something he was not to save his life,
thought Sandra
, and then you had to sit for year after year and smile at the same table with the woman who developed the process. And now you have to pull the trigger on the woman you considered a daughter.

“Kill the bastard,” she said without mercy.

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