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[From Captain Ya Istil Sperafin’s log. RBB]
The Eskorav and Medorin both hung in orbit above the swirls of an Atlantic hurricane, the vibrant colours of the land and sea almost hidden from sight except around the fringes of the storm and its attendant cloud masses. The freighter Medorin dwarfed the Eskorav. They both shared the green patchwork of colours which identified them as part of a Federation Enforcement fleet.
The Medorin had climbed out of the Sudanese gravity well, having shed its load of tens of thousands of tonnes of supplies to one of the Earth’s most serious regions of famine. The Eskorav had been in orbit throughout, overseeing the enormous aid project being undertaken by the Federation. Prior to the aid beginning, there had been a fleet of supply ships surrounding and dwarfing the Eskorav. If anyone had cared to look at the right area of sky, they would have been eminently visible. Secrecy wasn’t important to the Federation.
With the immediate aid programme complete, the two vessels were the only ships to remain in orbit and both skippers stood in the cockpit area of the Medorin, looking down upon the storm which was venting its fury upon the eastern Caribbean islands.
‘This world does have interesting weather patterns,’ said Ya Istil Sperafin, the skipper of the Eskorav, an egg-shaped mass of shimmering oyster coloured fluid which seemed to be held together by little more than surface tension.
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Yol Stirik Destrall, a huge powder blue gorilla-like creature, incongruously dressed in a neat, tight-fitting, green uniform.
‘It’s a severe tropical storm. They get them regularly,’ said Ya Istil. ‘No problems on the supply run?’
‘All went fine,’ said Yol Stirik. ‘The other freighters have left, but we still have considerable supplies on board, and we’ll be watching over the worst regions to see if the other nations make any effort to build upon our help.’
‘Such a beautiful world,’ said Ya Istil.
‘Do you think they’ll soon be invited into the Federation? Those people down there need help. Vast areas of the world are in poverty and other regions of the world are rich in financial terms as well as resources, although many of their resources seem to have been stolen from the poor.’
‘You’ve been watching their television.’
‘I have,’ said Yol Stirik. ‘They seem proud of their wealth and able to ignore the suffering of others. Their attitude towards poorer people, even those in their own economic areas, is lamentable. I heard a British politician saying that they should cut overseas development aid in order to put more aid into financing care for their own elderly, yet their elderly live in homes which are far and away more comfortable than the huts we have seen in, say, the north or the centre of Africa. They want to cut aid which is less than one per cent of their national wealth. Can such people ever be fit to join our community of nations?’
‘Don’t let it worry you, Stirik, it is out of our hands,’ said Ya Istil. ‘The ambassador will be here in a couple of days to assess progress. Other worlds soon adapt, and I guess the Federation believes Earth will change its ways too.’
‘It just frustrates me. They are so cruel and uncaring as a species.’
‘And violent,’ said Ya Istil. ‘Remember, they just blew up millions of their own people as a way of destroying our diplomatic team.’
‘Yes. Shocking.’
‘Have you seen the devastated area?’
‘Not specifically. Is it noticeable?’ said Yol Stirik.
‘Very much so. We’ll fly over it in a few minutes,’ said Ya Istil, shaking herself and causing her body to ripple and shimmer and give the impression it might explode any second.
Yol Stirik watched with some apprehension. ‘You okay?’ he asked.
‘Oh, yes. Just indigestion.’ She turned back to the window. ’We’re over central north America now. Keep watching.’
White cumulonimbus peppered the area south of the Great Lakes. Ya Istil was pleased to see that, far in the distance, the eastern seaboard of the continent was gradually entering the scene and was almost cloud free. The stunning patchwork of cobalt and navy ocean crept over the curvature of the world, the darker areas partially concealed by scattered pristine white clouds casting their patterned shade.
The coast displayed a pallet of juniper and moss with caramel fields showing areas being cultivated. It was broken by grey and pewter plaids, indicating residential areas of towns and cities. As the ships neared the coastal conurbations, the checks resolved into city blocks and roads.
Further north, Long Island pointed its accusing finger into the Atlantic and, to its western end was a ragged circle of ash, dove, cinnamon and tawny destruction centred on the once home of the United Nations building which had been on the East River. Charcoal wisps of smoke were rising from some areas where fires were still smouldering after the nuclear explosion.
‘That’s it?’ asked Yol Stirik.
Ya Istil gave her affirmative signal which involved a wave of beige liquid rising into view from the depths of her more pastel and grey normal body colour. ‘Yes,’ she said in Galactic Standard, in case the gorilla-like Stirik was unfamiliar with her species’ visual language.
‘There are still fires burning. I thought it happened a while ago.’
‘Yes,’ said Ya Istil. ‘A month ago, but the areas of the city closest to the explosion are highly radioactive.’
‘What’s that greeny-brown rectangle?’
‘They called it Central Park. The Ronoi was parked there.’
‘And they got away all right?’ asked Yol Stirik.
‘Only just. The ship was quite badly damaged but managed to get into orbit. A number of people on board were injured, I narrowly escaped death.’
‘You were on board?’ asked Yol Stirik.
‘I was first officer. Most of the deaths were the ambassadorial team there,’ Ya Istil said, materialising a tendril to point at the location of the United Nations building, ‘and crew who were sightseeing in the city.’
‘Awful.’
‘I’d better get back over to the Eskorav. I’ll set up a lunch in a couple of days’ time and invite your senior crew to come and meet ours. Perhaps you’ll join the ambassador and me for dinner. Not sure of his plans yet.’
‘That would be good,’ said Yol Stirik.
Ya Istil created a few colours on one side of her body, showed them to a mobile device she carried, and promptly vanished.
««o»»
[From Jim Collins’ records. RBB]
‘What’s the objective, Congressman Mayne?’ asked Dick Beech after shaking hands with the Democrat Leader.
For security and secrecy reasons, the meeting was taking place in a hotel room in Pittsburgh. General Beech was accompanied by Mike Henderson and the congressman was with Jim Collins.
‘I’m hoping you will provide the strategy, General,’ said Charles Mayne. ‘We think it is a priority to oust Slimbridge and the joint chiefs. They all seem to be in it together.’
‘I won’t be a party to swapping one dictatorship for another,’ said the general.
‘No. I wouldn’t want that. As soon as we’re in control, I’ll call for a presidential election. You have my word.’
‘I wouldn’t take kindly to being let down, sir. I will hold you to that promise.’
‘Please do,’ said Charles. ‘I’m an honourable American who supports the constitution.’
‘Okay,’ said the general. ‘It will not be easy. The joint chiefs are well protected, as is the president.’
‘Come up with a way. They must be removed from command,’ said Charles, trying to exert some of his own authority into the meeting.
‘What militia do you know of?’
‘Jim here will liaise with you,’ said Charles.
Jim said, ‘We are in touch with fifteen groups spread around the country. Six of those are within fifty miles of Washington.’
‘Right,’ said the general. ‘Colonel Mike Henderson here will be your liaison. He’s my right-hand man and he’ll keep in touch. He’ll always know where I am.’ He turned back to Charles Mayne. ‘Sir, I’ll need some time to work on this. I’ll return when we have a strategy. I’m assuming you are making me your military chief.’
‘Yes, I am. You come highly recommended and I’m told that you were an advisor to Jack Spence.’
‘Yes, sir. I was his army chief until I retired two years ago. His death was a great blow to our country.’
‘Indeed, it was,’ said Charles.
‘I’ll need absolute control over the militia. From this point on I am their commanding officer. You will understand that you cannot interfere with the chain of command.’
‘Of course, General, but I will need to know what is happening.’
‘That won’t always be possible. With covert operations, “need-to-know” is vital. You’ll need to trust my judgement. You might not become aware of operations until they are completed.’
‘As long as they follow the overall strategy.’
‘They will.’
‘How do you feel about the Federation, Congressman?’
‘President Spence was very much against them, but then called in a number of bipartisan advisors and they all disappeared on a familiarisation trip. When Harry McBride, our presidential candidate, returned he was convinced it was the best thing since sliced bread. President Spence seemed to be of the same mind and the others who were with them. Not Slimbridge though, he seemed a very dour passenger. What about yourself, General?’
‘Sceptical from what I’ve heard, but prepared to listen. It doesn’t bother me as much as the fact that our president was murdered, and the country usurped. That is my objective in this, Congressman, overthrowing Slimbridge and his regime and seeing the proper election of a president.’
‘We’re more or less on the same wavelength then,’ said Charles.
‘More or less,’ repeated the general. ‘Where is Congressman McBride?’
‘We don’t know. We believe he might have been in New York. We haven’t heard anything of or from him since.’
««o»»
[From Paula Wilson’s notes about the post of secretary general. RBB]
The Department of Homeland Security made Lara Horvat’s life very difficult over the application for one of the newly created exit visas for Paula Wilson. At last, she obtained one and it allowed Paula to leave the country with her. Lara had been worried that Paula might never be able to follow her if she hadn’t waited to ensure it was properly authorised.
It was a miserable, wet and windy day when they entered Dulles airport complex and things did not improve much after that.
‘Why have you singled us out for searches,’ asked Lara. ‘You do realise we are diplomatic visitors and that I am the secretary general of the United Nations?’
‘I’m sorry, madam,’ said the rather embarrassed young man who was rifling through the contents of the suitcase. ‘We were worried that you might be carrying important papers out of the country.’
‘Nonsense!’ Lara said, but could do nothing more than stand with Paula as three men pawed all of their clothes including make-up bags and Lara’s soiled washing. The women insisted on repacking themselves.
With no time to spare, they passed through departures and boarded a United flight to Boston before transferring to a flight to Ottawa. There they had a layover before taking a second flight into London. There had been no direct flights into London since Britain had closed the American embassy.
‘Dear God,’ said Lara, ‘that was ridiculous and obviously organised to cause us maximum inconvenience.
‘I’ve never heard of such an invasion of privacy “looking for papers”,’ said Paula as they took their seats on the left of the aircraft.
‘I hope we don’t have the same treatment at Boston,’ said Lara.
‘Shouldn’t do. We’re through customs now, so should be okay.’
Soon their flight was approaching New York and the extent of the destruction hit home. All of those friends and colleagues who had been killed by President Slimbridge. Secretary General Horvat didn’t believe, for a single moment, that terrorists were involved. Paula leaned across to look down at the devastation.
‘My apartment was near the Bronx Zoo. Can’t believe it’s all gone. My God, there’s still smoke coming from beside the East River, look!’ Paula said, pointing at the graphite coloured cloud rising into the air over the location of the UN building.
‘I was lucky,’ said Lara. ‘I was in Zimbabwe. My flight was delayed, or I’d have been arriving at Kennedy the morning of the bomb.’
‘I was at my sister’s wedding in Florida. That’s what saved me, otherwise I’d have been in the UN building. I suppose it would have been instant. They’d have had no idea it had even happened.’
’No. The only saving grace. A single instant of incineration. Poor Perfect. So many gone. What a waste,’ said the secretary general as Paula sat back in her seat. They’d lost so many friends and family.
They both enjoyed a sigh of relief when the plane crossed the Canadian border. There was a two hour layover in Ottawa before the flight to London Heathrow.