Earth Below, Sky Above

IV

“You wanted to see me,” Abumwe said to Coloma.

“Yes,” Coloma said. “I’m sorry to take you away from your commitments.”

“You didn’t,” Abumwe said. “I had scheduled an hour to eat and relax. This is it. And after forty minutes of a delegate from Kenya explaining to me how that country should be given Earth Station, on account of the space elevator having its base in Nairobi, anything you have to say to me will be a stream of clear rationality by comparison.”

“I’ve been drafted,” Coloma said.

“I withdraw my previous assertion,” Abumwe said. “What do you mean, drafted?”

Coloma showed Abumwe her PDA, open to the order from the CDF. “The Colonial Defense Forces, with permission from the Department of State, has at least temporarily classified the Clarke as a CDF ship, and has at least temporarily drafted me into the service. Same rank, and I share a joint designation as captain with the Colonial Union’s civilian service, so none of my crew has to be drafted to follow my orders. I’ve also been ordered to keep this drafting, and the new designation for the Clarke, in strict secrecy.”

“You’re telling me,” Abumwe observed.

“No, I’m not,” Coloma said.

“Understood,” Abumwe said.

“Whatever this is involves you and your people,” Coloma said. “Orders or not, you need to know.”

“Why do you think the CDF has done this?” Abumwe asked.

“Because I think they expect something,” Coloma said. “We sacrificed the Clarke at Danavar-the former Clarke-when someone set a trap for the Utche. We don’t know who. This ship was used by the CDF to try to ferret out a spy in their own ranks, unsuccessfully. When the Earth delegation came onto the ship, one of their own murdered another of their own, and tried to frame us for it, for reasons that have never been made clear to us. And then there was the Urse Damay, which fired on us when we were meeting with the Conclave, and controlled by forces unknown.”

“We’re not to blame for any of those,” Abumwe said. “Those weren’t about us in particular.”

“No, of course not,” Coloma agreed. “We’ve been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But in each case some outside, unknown group has been manipulating events for their own purpose. The same group? Separate groups? If separate, working together or apart? And to what end? And now we’re here, meeting with representatives from Earth. We know there’s still a spy within the CDF. We know that on Earth, someone is also pulling strings.”

“And if either is going to make a statement or an action, this would be the time and the place,” Abumwe concluded.

Coloma nodded. “Even more so because the Colonial Defense Forces have no ships at Earth Station and no personnel, other than Lieutenant Wilson.”

“And now you,” Abumwe said.

“Right,” Coloma said. “My primary orders are to pay close attention to any incoming ships. They’ve given me a schedule of every ship, from the Colonial Union or elsewhere, that is expected at Earth Station in the next ninety-six hours. They’ve also given me access to Earth Station’s flight control systems, so I can track ship communications. If anything looks suspicious, I’m to alert Earth Station and ping a drone they’ve placed at skip distance, which will immediately skip back to Phoenix Station.”

“There’s the possibility that the threat might come from Earth, not outside of it,” Abumwe said. “The beanstalk to Earth Station has been bombed before. There are riots happening on Earth right now because of this summit and the CDF. Any of that could be cover for an event.”

“It’s possible, but I don’t think that’s the CDF’s main concern. I think whoever it is that’s modeling this over there thinks an attack from a ship is the likely play,” Coloma said.

“What makes you sure?” Abumwe asked.

“Because the CDF gave me something else besides orders,” Coloma said.

“So what the hell is the Colonial Union really up to?” Lowen asked Wilson. They, Schmidt and Hirsch were on their third round together at the bar.

Wilson smiled and leaned back in his chair. “This is the place where I’m supposed to feign surprise and exclaim that the Colonial Union is acting only from the best and purest motives, right?”

“Smart-ass,” Lowen said.

Wilson raised his glass to her. “You know me so well,” he said.

“It’s a serious question, though,” Lowen said.

“I know,” Wilson said. “And my serious answer is that you know as much about it as I do.” He motioned to Schmidt. “As either of us does.”

“We got our new directives about an hour before we set foot on Earth Station,” Schmidt said. “We were taken as much by surprise on this as you folks were.”

“Why would you do it that way?” Hirsch asked. “I’m not a diplomat, so I might be missing out on some deep-level chess moves, but it seems like you guys are flying by the seat of your pants, here.”

“That’s what it’s supposed to look like,” Lowen said. “Spring the idea of leasing the station here on the delegations from Earth to disrupt their plans to act in concert addressing legitimate grievances they have with the Colonial Union. Spring it on the actual diplomats from the Colonial Union so they don’t have any real authority to do anything other than listen to the Earth delegations grovel for a shot at the station lease. Change the conversation and change the direction of how Earth sees the Colonial Union. No, David, it’s supposed to look like confusion. But I’d bet you long odds that the Colonial Union’s been planning this little strategy for a long time. And for right now it’s working exactly how they wanted it to.” She drank from her beer.

“Sorry,” Wilson said.

“I don’t blame you,” Lowen said. “You’re just a tool like all the rest of us are. Although you seem to be having more fun than most at this point.”

“He’s been drinking beer and beating up people,” Schmidt said. “What’s not to like?”

“This from a man who hid at the bar while I was taking on four guys at once,” Wilson said.

“You told me to go,” Schmidt said. “I was just following orders.”

“And anyway, Captain Hirsch here and I will be doing some very important business tomorrow,” Wilson said.

“That’s right,” Hirsch agreed. “Come fourteen hundred hours, Lieutenant Wilson and I will jump out of a perfectly good space station.”

“It’s the first step that gets you,” Wilson said.

“I’m not worried about the stepping,” Hirsch said. “I’m mildly concerned about the landing.”

“Well, leave that to me,” Wilson said.

“I have to leave it to you,” Hirsch pointed out. “You’re the one with the computer in your head.”

“What does that mean?” Lowen said.

“The suits we’ll be inside of are controlled by a BrainPal,” Wilson said, tapping his temple. “Unfortunately your cousin lacks one, and doesn’t seem likely to get one between now and the jump. So I’ll be controlling the deployment of both suits.”

Lowen looked at her cousin and then back at Wilson. “Is that safe?” she asked.

“We’re dropping to the Earth from the darkness of space,” Wilson said. “What about this is safe?”

Hirsch cleared his throat, loudly and obviously.

“What I meant to say is, of course it’s safe,” Wilson said. “Couldn’t be safer. Safer than going to the bathroom. Lots of people die pooping, you know. Happens every day.”

Lowen narrowed her eyes at Wilson. “I’m not supposed to say this, but David is my favorite cousin,” she said.

“I’m telling Rachel,” Hirsch said.

“Your sister owes me money,” Lowen said. “Now shut up. I’m threatening Harry, here.” Hirsch grinned and shut up. “As I was saying, David’s my favorite cousin. If something happens to him, I’m going to have to come for you, Harry. And I won’t be as easy on you as those four soldiers were. I will, and this is a promise, kick your ass.”

“Have you ever kicked anyone’s ass?” Hirsch asked. “Ever? You were always kind of a girly-girl.”

Lowen slugged Hirsch in the arm. “I’ve been saving my kick-assery up for a special occasion,” she said. “This could be it. You should feel honored.”

“Oh, I do feel honored,” Hirsch said.

“If you’re so honored, you can get the next round,” Lowen said.

“I’m not sure I’m that honored,” Hirsch said.

Lowen looked shocked. “I threaten a Colonial Defense Forces soldier for you, and you won’t even get me a beer? That’s it, you no longer have official favorite cousin status. Rachel is back on top.”

“I thought she owed you money,” Hirsch said.

“Yes, but you owe me a beer,” Lowen said.

“Family,” Hirsch said, to Wilson and Schmidt, and then got up. “Anything for you two?”

“I’ll get Harry’s,” Schmidt said, getting up. “Come on, David. Walk you to the bar.” The two of them made their way through the crowd toward the beer taps.

“He seems like a good guy,” Wilson said, to Lowen.

“He is,” Lowen said. “And I’m serious, Harry. Don’t let anything happen to him.”

Wilson held up his hand, as if pledging. “I swear I will not let anything happen to your cousin. Or at the very least, if anything happens to him, it will happen to me, too,” he said.

“That last part doesn’t inspire me with confidence,” Lowen said.

“It will be fine, I promise,” Wilson said. “The last time I did this, people were shooting at me on my way down. I missed having a leg blown off by millimeters. This will be a cakewalk compared to that.”

“I still don’t like it,” Lowen said.

“I sympathize entirely,” Wilson said. “This wasn’t exactly my idea, you know. But, look. David and I will have to get together tomorrow before the jump anyway in order to go over dive protocols and to walk him through what we’ll be doing. In your ample spare time, why don’t you tag along with him? I’ll give the impression I know what I’m talking about, I swear.”

Lowen pulled out her PDA and scrolled through her schedule. “Can you do it at eleven?” she asked. “I have a fifteen-minute hole in my schedule then. I was going to use it to pee, but I can do this instead.”

“I’m not responsible for your bladder,” Wilson said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lowen said. She put her PDA away. “At least I have time to pee. There are some people I know who have so many meetings now that they’re positively at risk for peritonitis.”

“Busy schedules,” Wilson said.

“Yes, well,” Lowen said. “This is what happens when one party drops a bomb onto everyone’s schedule and turns what was going to be an orderly summit into a goddamned mess, Harry.”

“Sorry,” Wilson said again.

“This goes back to that arrogance thing,” Lowen said. “You remember. You and I talked about this before. The Colonial Union’s biggest problem is its arrogance. This is a perfect example. Rather than sit down with the nations of the Earth to discuss the ramifications of keeping us bottled up for centuries, it’s attempting a sleight-of-hand maneuver, distracting us with this station lease.”

“I remember also saying to you that if you wanted someone to defend the Colonial Union’s practices, you came to the wrong shop,” Wilson said. “Although I’ll note, strictly as a matter of observation, that the Colonial Union’s plan seems to be working perfectly.”

“It’s working now,” Lowen said. “I’m willing to concede it’s a reasonable short-term solution. But as a long-term solution it has problems.”

“Such as,” Wilson said.

“Such as what is the Colonial Union going to do when the United States, China and Europe all say that as a matter of restitution, the Colonial Union should give us Earth Station?” Lowen said. “Forget all this leasing crap. The cost of one space station is a substantial discount on the profits accrued from two centuries of essentially free labor and security for the Colonial Union. You’d be getting off cheap.”

“I’m not sure the Colonial Union will agree with that theory,” Wilson said.

“We don’t need you to agree,” Lowen said. “All we really have to do is wait. The Colonial Union is unsustainable without new colonists and soldiers. I’m sure your economists and military planners have figured this one out already. You need us more than we need you.”

“I would imagine the natural response to this would be that you wouldn’t like what happens to Earth if the Colonial Union fails,” Wilson said.

“If it was just the Earth, you’d be right,” Lowen said. “But there’s option B.”

“You mean joining the Conclave,” Wilson said.

“Yep,” Lowen said.

“The Earth would have to get itself a lot more organized than it is at the moment,” Wilson said. “The Conclave doesn’t like having to deal with fractions of a planet.”

“I think we could be sufficiently motivated,” Lowen said. “If the alternatives were either a forced alliance with former oppressors, or being collateral damage when that former oppressor falls.”

“But then humanity is divided,” Wilson said. “That’s not going to be good.”

“For whom?” Lowen countered. “For humanity? Or for the Colonial Union? They’re not the same thing, you know. If there is a human division, in the end, who will be to blame for it? Not us, Harry. Not Earth.”

“You don’t have to sell me, Dani,” Wilson said. “So, how is this line of argument going with the U.S. delegation?” Wilson asked.

Lowen frowned.

“Ah,” Wilson said.

“You would think nepotism would help me out here,” Lowen said. “Being the daughter of the U.S. secretary of state should have a perk or two, especially when I’m right. But there’s the minor problem that Dad is under orders to tell us here to try to hammer out a deal before the end of the summit. He says my points will make a fine ‘backup plan’ if we don’t end up getting the lease outright.”

“Does he mean it?” Wilson asked.

Lowen frowned again.

“Ah,” Wilson said once more.

“Oh, good, our drinks are here,” Lowen said, motioning to Hirsch and Schmidt, who were navigating back, beers in hand. “Just in time to drown my sorrows.”

“Did we miss anything?” Hirsch asked, handing his cousin a beer.

“I was just talking about how hard it is to be right all the time,” Lowen said.

“You were talking to the right guy about that,” Schmidt said, sitting down. “Harry has the same problem. Just ask him.”

“Well, then,” Lowen said, and raised her glass. “I propose a toast. Here’s to being right all the time. May God and history forgive us.”

They all clinked glasses to that.