Skyship is a money-making machine for Billy Jeeling.
The only question is, where is he hiding all of his ill-gotten treasure?
—Connor Luxor, formerly a trusted Jeeling adviser, now considered a traitor by the JeeJees
It was a clear, sunny day, with the sky the prettiest shade of blue that Maureen Stuart had ever seen. Wearing a black helmet with a golden emblem, she stood by a rocket cycle outside Imperial City, waiting to board it as a passenger, while its pilot went through a safety check. They were at one of Jonathan Racker’s many industrial sites, a private landing field for company executives. Her sprained wrist was feeling better, but she had not removed the wrap from it yet.
The rocket cycle was long, bright blue and sleek, with black, swept-back wings, tight by the frame, and two seats, one in front of the other. It was one of the larger models. Each seat had a storage compartment underneath, containing capsules filled with anti-Jeeling leaflets. The cycle’s canopy was swung open now, and the pilot—a young Asian man in a rumpled gray suit and blue helmet—was examining it closely, checking the locking devices. She’d been wanting to go up in the air on one of these machines for some time now, because she liked to experience all aspects of the campaign against Billy Jeeling, so that she could offer more reasoned opinions on everything to her superiors.
Maureen did not particularly enjoy working against the man who had created Skyship. In her mid-forties now, she recalled being a child and admiring him and his exploits, and she had family members who had been saved by his amazing environmental actions. At least that was what her Uncle Eddie had told her, based upon having lost two brothers and his mother to environmentally-caused cancers, in the time before Billy restored the ozone layer, removed pollutants, and made other atmospheric improvements. Her family, with roots tracing back to Ireland and Scotland, were all fair-skinned, with reddish hair—traits that were said to make them more susceptible to sunburns and serious skin conditions. Maureen had lost her favorite little cousin, Sandy, to melanoma.
In her teens Maureen had even fantasized about marrying Billy one day, just one of millions of girls and women who’d felt that way. He was so handsome, and such a gallant, heroic figure. But all that changed when Maureen was hired by Jonathan Racker and Paul Paulo to analyze the contracts Jeeling had entered into with the AmEarth government, granting him a monopoly on all skymining and atmospheric restoration work. It was then, upon digging into the legalese and into other details about Billy’s business dealings, that she began to share the same feelings as his detractors. Any good the man had ever done in his life was not worth the monopoly he held, a dynasty in effect, as his son Devv was slated to take over after Billy was gone.
Growing up, she’d only been able to see the good in Billy, even though she vaguely remembered criticisms of him, even then. Now it was the exact opposite; she couldn’t see much, if anything, good about him—at least not the way he was behaving now—and she was convinced that he had exploited a good cause to advance himself and his family, at the expense of the citizens of AmEarth. He was not the first to hide behind a good cause for personal gain; there had been many historical examples. But he seemed like the worst of all.
“It’s safe to board now, ma’am,” the pilot said, after introducing himself as Hiroki Iwakuma. He was quite good looking, with light brown skin, alert eyes, and a nice smile. Knowing it was her first time on a rocket cycle, he helped her into the seat behind his own, showed her how the safety restraints worked as he connected them into place. Not that they would do much good if this thing crashed, she thought. But she wasn’t in the least bit afraid. He looked attentive and competent, the machine was almost new, and she enjoyed adventure. He closed the visor of her helmet over her face, secured it in place, and smiled confidently.
There were missionaries like Iwakuma all over the world, dispatched on rocket cycles to spread negative information about Billy Jeeling and everything he did, business or personal. Admittedly, some of the material involved distortions and innuendos, even some outright lies—but Maureen had vetted everything legally, and given her blessings. Let him sue the organizers of the campaign, one of her bosses had said to her, Jonathan Racker. The uber-wealthy industrialist actually seemed to welcome legal action, saying it would only increase the amount of bad publicity against Jeeling—because most of what they had been saying about him was true, or based on truth, and Jeeling wouldn’t win that battle for his reputation. Even if he recovered monetary damages for libel or slander, he would lose in the end, because so much of the truth would come out, and he would not look good in the bright light being cast on him. Without any doubt, Billy had fabricated his family history, and had probably lied about his education and early work experience as well.
Iwakuma was in his seat ahead of hers now, and he fired up the twin jet engines, producing a smooth, powerful purr. The canopy clicked shut over them.
“Hang on,” he said across a speaker inside her helmet. He glanced back over his shoulder, around his high seat back. “You ready for this?”
“Of course,” she said. “Don’t hold anything back on account of me.”
“Knowing you’re a lawyer, maybe I should have had you sign a legal release,” he quipped. But he didn’t wait for her reply, and hit the jets.
Maureen’s head jerked back against her seat, and for several seconds she closed her eyes. The sensation of speed was more sudden and extreme than anything she’d ever experienced before.
Feeling invigorated, she shouted into her helmet, “Can’t you make this thing go any faster?”
“You’re kidding, ma’am. We’re at top acceleration now, and from the look on your face that I see on my screen, you’re more than a little scared.”
She didn’t reply, held onto a bar in front of her as the cycle banked right and left, then shot almost straight up and then abruptly down, as the pilot was apparently trying to get her to scream out in fear.
Maureen grinned, hoped he was looking at her on the screen now. She might have felt a little trepidation moments ago, but she didn’t feel any at all now, and was confident that her facial expression showed this.
“You’ve got a lot of guts, ma’am. Have to give that to you.” Iwakuma chuckled as the craft settled into steady flight at a more moderate speed, skimming over the rooftops of apartment buildings below. “I wouldn’t want to be a passenger if you were at the controls, though. Pardon me for saying so, but you might be a little bit crazy.”
“You’ve got me figured out perfectly,” she said. “A thrill seeker, that’s what I am.” She wasn’t really that, at least not to an extreme. But it amused Maureen to say it. She touched a button in front of her, as he’d told her to do when she wanted, and watched one of the canisters shoot out of the side of the craft. Looking down, she saw it open in midair and spread leaflets over the neighborhood below.
The message was yet another demand for Billy Jeeling to turn the operation of Skyship over to the Imperial government—quotes from leading officials saying this, including Prime Minister Renaldo Yhatt. Public opinion against Billy was mounting rapidly, and if it kept going like this, his detractors would soon be in the majority. Now it was still a slim majority in Billy’s favor, but not so long ago his approval rating had been more than 90%. That was before the concerted campaign to get him to quit, a campaign that was producing good results.
Admittedly, it was an ugly smear campaign, and might not be totally fair to the man. She’d used that term to her superiors, and they’d said that was exactly what they wanted. Take him from beloved hero to despised goat, from point A to point B as quickly as possible. That’s how they projected the end of Billy’s career, calling it “an unfortunate necessity.” Already his popularity was plummeting, and soon it would crash.
She and Iwakuma released the rest of their canisters. Then the pilot turned around in a sharp u-turn, and headed back to the landing field.