Sentience 1: Storm Clouds Gathering (23 page)

“Noreen, calm down,” Hardwick advised. “I know you hate it when Ted treats you like a gofer, but the title Senior Vice President doesn’t really carry very much weight to a guy with Chairman of the Board and Chief Executive Officer, on his business card.”

“I know that, Bill,” Noreen replied. “You know I love working for Ted, it’s just...” Noreen stopped her pacing and shook her head sadly. “I just really
hate
having anything to do with those Consortium zombies. They give me the creeps. I gave them that presentation that I’d put my heart and soul into and I even told them about my trip to Socar and about all the anger and suffering that I’d personally observed down there. Do you know what their reaction was?

“Nothing. No visible reaction at all! Even the women were totally cold fish. I bet they’d react stronger to a broken nail than they do to the plight of those people down South. They don’t give a diddly-damn about people suffering, as long as they’re making money.”

“That’s what they’re in business to do, Noreen. They have a responsibility to their stockholders...”

“Don’t talk to me about the stockholders! I know all about stockholders. Yes, of course they have to earn profits for their stockholders, but that doesn’t give them free license to rape and plunder a dozen planets, does it?”

“Rape and plunder? Now you’re exaggerating just because you’re upset.”

“You’re damned right I’m upset! I’ve seen more business ethics in a swarm of locusts than in those Consortium bastards. Why aren’t a lot more people upset?”

“They are. They’re just all down South, that’s all.”

After all of the other Executive Board members had left the lounge, Aline McCauley and J.P. Aneke sat alone. “So, in the interests of having a long-term, alternative Plan-B,” asked McCauley, “what do we do if the chickens really do come home to roost and those shit-sticks down South end up seceding from the Alliance?”

“If the chickens do come home to roost,” replied Aneke, “we definitely will have to have something prepared to greet them with.

“And?”

“Which do you think would be less expensive... a new hen house, or a frying pan?”

“Ted’s not like them. I don’t understand why he associates with those people.”

“It’s more than just mere association, Noreen. Ted is on the Consortium’s Executive Board, remember?”

“Yes, and I hate it. Why did we slash salaries by 20 percent after we took over those three Southern mining companies we bought out for peanuts four years ago?”

Bill Harwick rolled his eyes. “Noreen, those companies were all on the verge of bankruptcy and would have been liquidated, if we hadn’t snapped them up. Those people would have been out of jobs altogether, if we hadn’t intervened. They should be grateful they have jobs at all.”

“So we cut salaries 20 percent to make the locals grateful that we had them over a barrel? And just
why
were those companies we bought up on the verge of bankruptcy, Bill?”

“That’s immaterial. The fact is, they were and we saved their ass.”

“Immaterial? The fact is they were all prospering until congress passed the
Alliance First Act
in ’54. And it’s all over the South. That bill bankrupted multiple planets.”

“So now we’re to blame for what Congress did over five years ago?”

“Goddamnit, Bill, don’t play dumb with me. You know damned good and well
who
pressured Congress to enact the
Alliance First
bill.”

“Look, Noreen, you didn’t hurt those people down there, and I didn’t hurt those people down there. Neither did Linda at the front desk in the lobby. You may be a Senior Vice President of a thriving major corporation, but we’re all just minor cogs in the great machine called
industry
. Congress passed the
Alliance First
law, regardless of who might have been exerting influence on the decision. They could have said no, but they didn’t. Congress made it law, so it’s Congress who’s responsible for the consequences of that law. “

“So you really think I should just wash my hands of the whole sorry mess, and go on like everything is just dandy?”

“You can’t save the universe. That’s all in the past. It happened. Let it go. I’d really hate to see you jeopardize your career, which WILL happen, if the wrong people hear you blowing off like this.”

As they say around the Texas Legislature, if you can't drink their whiskey, screw their women, take their money, and vote against ’em anyway, you don't belong in office.
-- Molly Ivins

The Planet Sextus, City of Astin

June, 3860

“Mr. President,” intoned Chief of Staff Andrew William Smith, “I have here an urgent communiqué from President James Buchwald of the United Stellar Alliance, requesting that you come to Waston on a state visit as soon as it can be arranged into your schedule. He says it’s an urgent matter and he needs to have direct discussions with you privately.”

Wyatt Eugene Cargill, president of the independent planet of Sextus, turned to his chief of staff and said, “What’s that you say, Andy Bill? Jimmy Buchwald wants to see me?” Wyatt Cargill was using his homespun drawl that endeared him to a majority of Sextuns and generally disarmed his political opponents, as it had a tendency to make them unconsciously consider him a buffoon. But President Cargill was nobody’s fool. Many of his political opponents had learned that lesson the hard way, as they found themselves squirming on the barbs of his homespun wit.

“Yes, Mr. President.” Smith handed Cargill the communiqué.

“Old Jimmy certainly has his tit stuck in the wringer, fer sure. The Alliance is falling to pieces around his ears and thar’s not a damned thing he kin do about it. Maybe ah’d better go see the boy and see what’s on his mind.” Cargill glanced up from the communiqué in his hand and looked at Smith. “What’s on tap for next week, Andy?”

“Just routine, Mr. President. Nothing I can’t push back until after your return.”

“Okay, good,” said Cargill. “Contact the Alliance Embassy and inform them I will be delighted to come see my old friend, President Buchwald, and that I’ll be arriving next Tuesday. Then call Admiral McCoy and tell him ta gas up ma travilin’ rig and give me a schedule that’ll put me into Waston on Tuesday morning.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. President. I’ll see to it immediately.”

The Planetoid Discol, City of Waston

June, 3860

Wyatt Cargill sat in the Presidential Suite in the Sextus Embassy, wondering “why” Jim Buchwald had asked him to come all the way to Waston just to discuss a currency transaction normally handled by their respective treasury departments. Yes, it was a considerable amount of money they’d discussed. Jimmy wanted to buy $3 trillion US dollars' worth of Sextus’ gold bullion as a “hedge against inflation.”

After a couple of hours of “haggling,” they’d finally agreed to a price of $1,500.00 US, per ounce of Sextus gold. That worked out to about 8,620 tons of gold. Yes, $3 trillion was a very large amount of money, but nothing that couldn’t have been handled through normal Treasury Department channels. Odd that Jimmy asked for the gold to be delivered by a Sextus military transport under Sextus Fleet escort to the US Federal Reserve Depository in Norlans on Lusia, Sextus’ closest inhabited neighbor.

That annexation idea the Consortium was pushing had royally pissed him off for sure, just as Jimmy Buchwald knew it would. But, even that didn’t explain exactly
why
Cargill had been asked to come to Waston personally. Could it be that Jimmy didn’t trust his own Treasury Department and was afraid an informant would go running off to his Consortium masters, who would yank the strings on some congressional oversight committee and put the kibosh on the whole deal?
Something damned odd going on here.

An hour later, Cargill’s valet knocked gently on the president’s door. “Mr. President, Fleet Admiral Roger Kalis of the Alliance Fleet is waiting downstairs and would like to speak with you.”

Ah, the gravy thickens,
thought Cargill. “Send him up, Carl.”

“Good evening, Mr. President.” Fleet Admiral Roger Kalis stepped through the door and approached the president of Sextus.

President Wyatt Cargill stood and reaching out, pumped Kalis’ hand lustily. “Real nice ta see y’all again, Admiral. How long’s it been, 12-13 years now?”

“Yes sir, I think it was ’48, just we were finishing up with that little issue you had going on with your southern neighbors.”

Little issue,
thought Cargill.
Kalis was always a master of understatement
.

A well-armed major cartel from the Central European Compact had been setting up outposts within Sextus’ space, to use as bases for smuggling operations into Sextus and the southern Alliance. The Sextus Fleet dealt with the outposts as they sprang up, but finally tiring of the constant intrusions and the distinct lack of action by the Compact after repeated diplomatic protests, Sextus had launched a major military strike, obliterating the cartel’s main base of operations on one of the Compact’s primary planets. Sextus was never one to put up with bullshit for very long.

The Central European Compact used this Sextus strike against the cartel as an excuse to declare war on Sextus, hoping to bring the planet’s riches, for which it was well known, under their control. The well-armed, but small, Sextus Fleet mauled the initial Compact invasion force, but at a 5-1 disadvantage, all of Sextus knew it needed help if the war drew into a long, protracted struggle. As Sextus pioneers had come from the same stock as those of the Alliance back on old Earth, ties had remained strong, even though Sextus chose to remain independent when the Alliance was formed. The Central Europeans had dreadfully miscalculated if they thought the Alliance would sit idly by and do nothing while Sextus was fighting for her life.

Admiral Roger Kalis had been in command of the Alliance 2nd Fleet, when Alliance President Lawrence K. Pollack ordered him to reinforce Sextus against further Compact attacks. Afterwards came a brutal yet successful mauling of the Compact’s second, significantly larger, invasion attempt, during which Kalis lost 20 percent of his fleet. The Compact Fleet and accompanying spacefighters were virtually all of Russian design, so while slightly inferior to the Alliance equipment, they were still deadly and accounted for the surprising number of Alliance losses to a “supposedly” inferior foe.

The Alliance congress then declared war on the Compact and President Pollack sent the Alliance 3rd Fleet under Admiral George Hudson to Sextus to begin formulating offensive operations with Kalis in overall command. Kalis’ losses were made up by reinforcements from 1st Fleet. With the elite, battle-hardened, squadrons of the Sextus Fleet also at his disposal, Kalis commanded a considerable force. Parts of the Alliance 4th Fleet under Vice Admiral Carl Bonner were also relocated to Louisa to provide support for Kalis’ offensive operations, as necessary.

Kalis spent most of three years on Sextus in coordination with the senior officers of the Sextus Fleet and top leadership of the Sextus civilian government. He conducted a brilliant offensive campaign, beginning with the first actual combat assault drop of Alliance Fleet Marines against an aggressive planetary defense in Alliance history, in the taking of the Compact planet of Hungar, in early 3847. Kalis, never one to sit behind a desk, directed combat operations personally and was awarded his fifth star, making him the first and only Fleet Admiral in Alliance history, at the surprisingly young age of fifty-six.

While Kalis was engaged at Hungar, Admiral Hudson conducted operations against the Compact planet, Bulgar. Bulgar was a bit of a tougher nut to crack, as it had orbital forts in place. Hudson was forced to fight off a heavy Compact counter attack, that arrived from Romani, during his assault on the forts. Hudson suffered heavy losses, but managed to drive off the Compact fleet, and after reduction of the forts, Bulgar surrendered without further resistance.

One Alliance fighter pilot who was of Russian descent and fluent in the Russian language swore he heard the “Central European” pilots speaking Russian — utterly confident it wasn’t one of the other Slavic languages he’d heard over his comm. This gave rise to the belief that it was the Russians who were really the instigators behind the Compact’s attempt to take over Sextus, while using the Central Europeans as a blind.

Kalis ordered reinforcements from Vice Admiral Bonner’s 4th Fleet units at Louisa, to bolster the remnants of Hudson’s 3rd Fleet at Bulgar, while his 2nd Fleet awaited resupply from Sextus and conducted repair operations at Hungar. In late 3847, occupation forces arrived at Hungar from 4th Fleet, allowing Kalis’ rested and rejuvenated 2nd Fleet to move on to capture the Compact Capital at Romani, which surrendered after a relatively short but nasty fight with the remnants of the Compact Fleet. Forewarned against the possibility of Russian involvement, Kalis again found evidence of their participation during the
Battle of Romani
.

In early 3848, the Central European Compact formally surrendered and under the terms of the ensuing peace treaty, agreed to relinquish their claims to the barely habitable, but uncolonized planets of Nemex, Ariz, Uta, Neva and their sparsely settled planet of Cali to the Alliance, in exchange for $4.6 trillion. All became Alliance territories, except for Cali which officially joined the Union as the 31st official Alliance member planet in 3850. The Russians of course, vigorously denied all of the “unsubstantiated” rumors of their having had any involvement in the war.

Sextus owed the Alliance in general, and Fleet Admiral Roger Kalis in particular a great debt, and had owed it for some time. Cargill wondered if Kalis was here to collect.

“Have a seat, Admiral. Can I get you anything? A brandy perhaps?” Cargill offered.

“A brandy sounds delightful, Mr. President, but only if you’ll join me,” Kalis replied.

Cargill’s right eyebrow rose slightly in surprise. He hadn’t really expected Kalis to accept his offer of the drink.
Hmm… now this is highly unusual.
“Now Rog, when did you ever hear of old Wyatt Cargill saying ‘no’ to the opportunity to have a drink with an old friend?”