| |
The video hotline between Chairman Markis and President McKenna hummed faintly but seemed otherwise clear. With new satellites finally being orbited now, worldwide communications once again had become a reality, at least for the rich or well connected.
After the pleasantries, McKenna opened the conversation. “I want to apologize, Daniel, about that Septagon business. You passed me the information and warned me about its possible uses, but I was too timid. Just as you suggested, it’s blown up in the Russians’ faces.” He looked tired and haggard on the screen.
Not sure exactly what he meant, Markis fished. “No apologies needed, Nathan. You made the best call you could, and it happened to not work out, but that’s all any of us can do. But...what specifically do you mean, blown up? As I recall, there were several potential scenarios my people thought were likely enough to mention...”
“You identified the location of the Septagon research facility, and pointed out that these Shadow Men – these cyborgs – could be more than just super-soldiers. That unlike other weapons, they could only be controlled by those who could program them, and that meant Jenkins and Prandra, not Russia’s leaders.”
“Ah.” Markis realized McKenna had conflated several possibilities into one, but he saw no reason to dissuade the President, since he seemed to be feeling contrite. “Well, Nathan,” he said magnanimously, “I’m just glad to be of service to what is still the most important single nation on Earth.”
Stretching the truth a bit, but...not too far.
“You’re too kind, but I know the real score. I’m directing my people to pass on a summary to you of what we know, but damned if I know how to handle it.”
“Perhaps if you could explain in a few sentences?”
“Yes, yes, sorry.”
The man seemed rattled, and not for the first time Markis wondered whether he was really the right person for the job. He might win the upcoming first election since the nukes fell, but probably not the second. A good man, but just not up to it. He made a note to get in touch with Travis Tyler.
“Basically,” McKenna went on, “the Septagon people seem to have staged a near-bloodless coup. Only a few reported deaths, and most of the Cabinet, where all the real power resides in the Russian government, now have cyborgs as minders that go with them everywhere. At the very least, the ministers are being coerced. As soon as I get off the line with you, I’ll be calling the Neutral States Assembly High Commissioner and lobby for sanctions, and I hope you’ll ask the Free Communities for the same.”
Markis thought for a moment. “I’ll certainly call a council meeting and tell them what you propose, but it’s not as simple as that. Russia is an enormous country. They have gotten on board and supplied a lot of weaponry and support to the EarthFleet program – top-notch scientists, rare earths and minerals, their molten-salts reactors. Hell, they’re ahead of everyone on fusion research, while we’re all relying on the cloned Meme engines.”
McKenna sat back as if shocked. “You want to let it go? Allow these people to run an entire country?”
“No. I’m just not sure sanctions are the right call. They take a long time to bite, and it’s the survival of the world we’re talking about. I’d rather explore other options. They won’t have the Russian people or bureaucracy on their side. They might simply be marginalized. We can work on helping that happen, with media, and clandestine support to the opposition, things like that.”
McKenna stood up to pace in front of the camera. “I already sat on my ass when you gave me the warning, and now look what’s happened. Now you want us to sit around on our asses again, and go slow? No way, Daniel, no way. I need your support on this. Like you said, the Russian people need to see we are on their side.”
“Ruining their economy will just drive the people into the arms of the authoritarians. It’s inevitable.” Markis crossed his arms and stared at the screen.
“Well, if the Neutral States go along with it, will you too?”
Reluctantly Markis answered. “If the NS do it first, I will recommend we support a limited set of sanctions – targeted, not general.”
McKenna sighed. “All right. It’ll have to do. I’ll have my National Security Adviser get in touch with your people and discuss the details. Talk to you later.”
“Goodbye, Mr. President.”
McKenna cut the link without responding.
* * *
In the Oval Office, President McKenna looked over at Travis Tyler, who sat sipping Scotch. “You think he bought it? That we’re not going to do anything covert?”
“Don’t ask me,” replied the retired general. “Mister Muzik?”
Roger Muzik rattled the ice in his glass, staring at it as if its emptiness had betrayed him. “I think so, sir. You struck the right note of, of being rattled, casting about for easy solutions. As disinformation, it should work very well.” He still didn’t meet the other men’s eyes.
“But?” asked the President.
“But the man is my friend. I don’t like lying to him.”
“You didn’t. I did. And lying is probably too strong a word. I just...gave him the wrong impression. Just like that file he gave me was designed to do. It was sheer bad luck that his outrageous warning – that the Septagon people would try to take over the Russian Government for themselves – turned out to be true.” Now it was McKenna that looked down, avoiding Muzik’s gaze.
“I hate all this,” Muzik replied. “This feeding each other bullshit, hoping it will be believed, expecting it not to be, and all the while destroying the trust between us. I’d never have believed Edens could be this dishonest.”
That brought silence for a moment, then Tyler spoke. “People think being an Eden means we can’t kill, either, but we know that’s not true. I executed my own son, because it was the right thing to do, and had to be done. We believe this to be the right thing to do, and it has to be done. Right?”
“To keep the operation secret? Yes it has to be done. That’s my call. Your consciences are clear.”
“Sorry, sir, ‘just following orders’ is still the thinnest defense of all.” Muzik held up a forestalling hand. “Don’t worry. I’m on board. After all, it’s my ass on the operation too. And I’d rather if Repeth didn’t know anything about this part of it. Shit, I wish I didn’t either.” He stood up and walked toward the door.
Tyler stood as well. “Colonel...covert ops is often a dirty business. We’ll try not to cross any hard lines here, but if a bit of lying is all we have to do to keep Earth safe, I’d say, be thankful.”
Muzik turned back as the Secret Service agent opened the door for him. “I’ll bet it won’t stay secret anyway, which will make all this an exercise in futility. You’d both have done better to just talk to...to the key personnel. Green Door Syndrome has often done more damage than a potential leak.”
The three men stared at each other for a moment in strained silence before Muzik made his exit.
