B00BKLL1XI EBOK (12 page)

“You know about the Shadow Nation of course.”

“Yeah, hard to miss it. They’re all over the news.”

Gene sat down in front of Newman’s desk and stole a glance at the opulent office around him. Brushed aluminum, light wood and a set of three sumptuous leather chairs stood in the back of the office. The big window took up most of the wall on his right side, ending at a bookcase behind him which displayed countless plaques, statuettes and other awards. Since all books were now on reusable plastic sheets linked to the ubiquitous internet, holding decorations and awards was the only job a bookcase could do now.

“So what’s the problem Councilor?” asked Gene. “You were on the panel that made the trade agreement with the Nation, soon we’ll be flooded with alien goodies from across the galaxy and all we have to do is send them some heavy water and cattle. I can’t find anything not to like about this.”

“Well it’s what you don’t hear on TV,” replied Newman. “They also asked us for human blood.”

“Oh?” incredulously shook his head Gene.

“Human blood. Asked us to keep this little payment arrangement confidential.”

“Yes, I caught that. Why would they want human blood?”

“They say it’s for some sort of research.”

“Into what?”

“They wouldn’t specify but they said that they’ll share any new discoveries with us. Even put a clause in the agreement for it.”

“Maybe they’re just going to sell medicine to us.”

“Wait. I’m not done yet. They don’t want just any old humans to give them a few pints of blood. They want blood cells from kids.”

“Makes perfect sense to me.”

It was Newman’s turn to be surprised.

“How does that make sense to you?” he jumped.

“Everybody knows that you need undamaged DNA for research. We have a lot of damage to our DNA by adulthood. They just want a batch of fresh genetic material for study.”

“Ah that’s what they want you to believe,” said Newman with an insane grin on his face. He hit his desk with open palms and jumped up, darting around the desk. “I have an idea what they really want to do with that DNA.”

“And what do they want with it?” Gene rolled his eyes.

Newman turned to Gene with an even more insane grin.

“They want to create humans subservient to them, then place them on Earth and get them into the power system. That way, they’ll have complete control of the planet in just a few generations. Soon, every kid on Earth is going to be chanting their pledge of allegiance. Our system will be destroyed, we’ll be silenced and these subservient agents of the Nation will surrender us to the aliens.”

Gene looked at Newman with the corner of his mouth twitching. He heard plenty of conspiracy theories in his day but not from one of his highest profile clients.

“Umm... Councilor Newman,” cautiously started Gene, “I think you’re overreacting just a little bit here...”

“Why are they so interested in Earth?” demanded Newman.

“Well as long as we make money who gives a shit?”

“I give a shit. Apparently I’m the only one who does.”

“You don’t know anything about these aliens...” tried Gene.

“Exactly!” bellowed Newman. “But I do know that instead of coming back to Earth, they had to start shit out in space and put us out there for target practice. They’re reckless, senseless, and they’re either going to sacrifice the Earth or they’re going to try and rule us. I don’t buy this ‘mutual economic benefit’ and ‘we’re here to defend the Earth’ bullshit for a second.”

Gene tried to reason with Newman again.

“I think...” was all he managed to let out.

“I don’t pay you to think. I’m not going to retire. Get me a brand new platform. Threatened tradition, our kids in danger, you know the usual sentimental bullshit. Just keep me on that fucking Council of Drooling Morons.”

Gene sighed and took out his PDA. He started jotting notes on it while he shook his head. This was the first time he felt compelled to say something, but Newman’s checks were too fat to refuse.

“Well ok... I’ll see what I can get working. How much time do I have to get this wrapped up?”

Newman took his glass and went to the book case. He tapped a cabinet and it opened displaying an assortment of hard liquor. With a deft and practiced move, Newman poured himself more whisky and took a swig. He made a sour face and exhaled with an odd quacking noise. He turned around to the window and looked out at the city.

“They’ll take a little while to finish their war with those Rexx things. You have two months.”

“Got it,” confirmed Gene.

He turned off his PDA and left the office with an uneasy feeling. He thought that this feeling must be the conscience those Janes and Joes mention so often. But never mind. He had a job to do.

Across town, Councilor Grey ate supper with his friend and advisor, Tina. They ate at one of the nine apartments slated for Councilors, this one occupied by Grey for decades. It occupied some 5,000 square feet with large rooms, wide hallways and big windows looking at the city that was some 30 stories below, decorated with lots of light wood and brushed metal as was the current trend. Abstract artwork hung on the walls with a very special piece hanging in the dining room. It depicted an alien solar system, a favorite topic for pop artists of the 25th century.

Grey sat in front of this drawing eating broiled fish from a square plate. The table itself was made out of a thick plastic that looked like glass suspended over thin, twisting metal legs which ended in a wide, short, cone shaped foot.

“So here’s your angle,” Tina was saying as she took a bite of her vegetable medley. “You secured advanced alien technology for all of humankind. Your trade agreement will propel Earth into a new era.”

“Yeah, that sounds pretty good,” nodded Grey. “What about my long standing as Senior Councilor? Somebody’s bound to whip out a ‘we need fresh blood’ campaign to mute my endorsements.”

“Experience is everything. Do you really trust amateurs to deal with a little known alien race?”

“Not bad... But they’re technically humans. I’m sure that people would be far more comfortable knowing that we’re working with very advanced humans rather than alien monsters who might do God knows what out of the blue.”

“I think that should work. Now as for the public image part...”

“Is something wrong with my public image?”

“No, no... Not yet. But I would rather try to keep Ace out of the public’s view.”

Grey frowned and put down his fork.

“Tina! I can’t do that! You might as well have me stick Hertz in the closet while you’re at it. He looks like a mutant toad, but he has an important job. Looks is not a valid reason to start offending a trading partner.”

“What role does he play in his government?” asked Tina.

“You know,” started Grey, “I’m not quite sure. I know that he’s an advisor to the Children of the Stars and he’s got to be pretty damn high on the food chain if they’re letting him make first contact.”

“Wasn’t he one of the founders of the Shadow Nation?”

“Yeah he was, but you know how founders are. In a hundred years’ time they become nothing more than symbolic figureheads and someone younger and more ambitious does all the work.”

“Well if he’s immortal, that changes the power dynamics,” noted Tina, meaningfully raising her brow.

Grey listed through his plastic sheets until he found the right one. He looked at it intently and turned to Tina.

“That was a classified report so what I’m going tell you now it not to leave this room, got it?” warned Grey.

“Yeah, of course,” agreed Tina.

“I don’t know Ace’s official title, but he definitely runs things. He may talk about the High Council of this and the High Command of that, but he’s the head honcho and everybody dances to his tune either because they’re scared of him or because his word is law across the Nation. Notice how everything he says he’ll ‘bring up with the Councilors and Commanders gets done right away.”

Tina paused for a minute.

“I see what you’re talking about Councilor,” she finally said. “I certainly don’t want the aliens’ head honcho pissed off at you...”

“Cyborg head honcho,” corrected Grey.

“People are going to refer to them as aliens anyway.”

“Well we don’t need that.”

“Councilor, all I wanted to say is that the traditionalists are going to look at him and say that he’s demonic. They’re going to hammer that adjective until its fused to his forehead.”

“Well then Tina, we could counter-attack with something noble. Say... ancient warrior.”

Tina thought about it for a moment.

“Yeah... Yeah, that might work,” she agreed.

“Now then,” continued Grey, “what other credentials should I be working on?”

“I’d say defense. Secure some big guns, something like that. It’ll get the hawks’ votes.”

“There are limits on what I can and can’t do there.”

“Well, if you get one of those IGFs...”

“Will not happen,” frowned Grey.

“Why not?”

“They’re not going to sell us IGFs. Those things have a lower bound of 10 gigaton. That’s ten billion tons of high explosives. We could easily wipe out a major hyper-city by accident and crack the planet’s crust. I know that the hawks get mad every time we say that there’s a weapon too powerful for us, but in the interests of sanity, I’d rather leave those with Ace.”

“I’ll think about how to frame it properly on talk shows.”

Grey finished his fish just as Tina finished her vegetables. They took their deserts and went into the vast, sparsely decorated living room, sat down at the opposite ends of a large couch and continued their strategy session.

“I’m worried that Newman won’t retire,” said Grey. “I know that he’s probably scheming something.”

“How do you figure?” asked Tina.

“He almost flipped out during the negotiations. He hated Nelson. I heard him call the man a traitor to one of his cronies.”

“Well that’s not good.”

“I need him out of the way. If Ace turns Earth into the promised land, I could relax for the next twenty years or so and retire in peace, doing some consulting work on the side. If Newman manages to tear the trade deal apart and antagonize Ace by getting reelected and replacing my partners, the biggest accomplishment of my career will be flushed down the toilet because some old twit feels threatened by change and new technology.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Tina finished her small desert and looked at her watch.

“Well Councilor, I’ll let you know what I can come up with. But in the meantime, I must be going,” she said.

“Working late tonight?”

“Duty calls.”

Grey walked her out and returned to the living room. He plopped on the couch and snapped his fingers. A holographic TV screen rose out of the floor. It was tuned to a news channel where the trade deal was being dissected for the tenth hour by now. Grey listened for any critiques, trying to find the latest keywords for future talking points. By the time he became Senior Councilor he knew how this game was played and he played it very well.

The next day, Tina was sitting in an outdoor café, waiting for her lunch date to show up. He was fifteen minutes late. Odd. It wasn’t like him to be late. She looked around and noticed him crossing the street. He jogged over to her with an apologetic look on his face and sat down in the chair she was saving for him.

“So sorry Tina,” apologized Gene as he sat down. “I hate it when those meetings run over like this.”

“It’s all right, it’s just fifteen minutes,” accepted Tina. “So what got you so worked up lately?”

“Ah that old nut job, Newman,” frowned Gene. “He’s convinced that it’s ‘his duty to protect humanity from the Shadow Nation.’”

“Oh really?” laughed Tina.

“Yeah. My diagnosis – paranoid schizophrenia.”

“He’s not the only one who’s paranoid.”

“Oh? Don’t tell me Grey feels threatened. The guy could survive a nuclear blast. He’s been on the Council for what? A billion years?”

“Believe it or not, he’s not fond of Newman.”

“Nobody’s fond of Newman.”

“Well, he wants Newman out of the way. Says that the trade deal could make him rich and famous and if Newman tries to poison it... and so on and so forth.”

Gene considered her words for a minute. Grey is a heavyweight, always was. If he decided to block Newman, Gene would have a real fight on his hands. Newman couldn’t survive a round with a political equivalent of a 900 pound gorilla.

As Gene thought, their sandwiches and drinks arrived. He raised his glass of soda. Tina raised her glass as well.

“This is going to be a very interesting election season. Newman, the crusader for neo-traditionalists of the Traditional Values Group and Grey, the luminary of the Progressive Global Movement...” purred Gene with a sadistic note in his voice. “This is going to be a match-up for the history books.”

“Definitely,” agreed Tina.

“May the craftiest strategist win.”

“Cheers Gene.”

“Cheers.”

The soda glasses clanked and the strategists ate their sandwiches, focusing on small talk. In their minds they were no longer concerned about their clients. They were concerned about each other. To every seasoned political strategist of the 36th century, even the most powerful politicians were just tools, no different than the public they regarded as little more than voting machines.

The real and only opponent of a political strategist was a fellow political strategist. The heated insults their clients would hurl at each other and at them during the campaign were nothing personal, just a standard part of the business.

[ chapter _ 011 ]

As Christine and Steve went to their quarters and Dot decided to go for a stroll with Nelson, Ace made his way towards one of the claw shaped high rises. Behind him, flying pods zoomed through the city. In just ten hours, the fleet would leave on a monthlong journey deep into Rexx territory. Everything had to be checked and rechecked, fueled, loaded and tested. Everyone was preparing for war and so was Ace.