Between frequent replays of the Starfish Prime video, Various Blitz News pundits used their own terms to discuss the hypothetical but apparently inevitable structure that social media users had already come to know simply as The Shield; such names ranged from “defensive space platform” and “anti-asteroid cascade” to “military space station” and “orbital warship”.
The names seemed to get increasingly aggressive as the day went on, but “space nuke” troubled Dan most of all.
* * *
President Slater’s sit-down interview with Marian de Clerk aired at 7pm, subtly but heavily edited. The broadcast began with a brief mea culpa in which Slater spoke of the “personal and professional embarrassment” she felt for failing to spot Richard Walker’s lie.
Once this was out of the way, de Clerk began as she would continue, performing her role in a perfunctory and detached manner. Her first question was clear cut: “What do you make of the political response to these revelations?”
Slater acknowledged and praised the “restrained and measured response” from her political opponents and insisted that all decisions going forward would be made in a nonpartisan environment. What she didn’t say but knew perfectly well was that the opposing party — once Richard’s party — had no room to crow.
“And what do you make of claims that the cost of developing a so-called “Shield” would be prohibitive?” de Clerk asked, soft-balling another agreed upon question.
Dan was disappointed that de Clerk conducted the interview in this way, but Emma told him that Slater’s team pre-approving the questions and having final say on what aired would have been an iron-clad condition of the interview. Anything the President said would be a calculated step in moving towards enacting whatever plans had already been decided, Emma said; Slater wouldn’t suggest anything that hadn’t already been discussed with Godfrey and the other main players.
“Cost is no great concern,” Slater answered. “The International Space Station cost a total of 150 billion dollars. There or thereabouts, anyway. That might sound a lot, but our current level of national military expenditure could pay for four such stations each year. That station’s first module, Zarya, cost only 220 million dollars. We have nuclear submarines in service that cost ten times that amount, each.”
The camera cut to de Clerk nodding slightly and rubbing her chin, as though deep in thought.
“But more to the point,” Slater continued, “if we can find 700 billion dollars to bail out the banks, we can find whatever it takes to protect our citizens.”
“And as for timescales…” de Clerk began.
“Fortunately we already have extensive research findings on asteroid interception, and a highly sophisticated orbital laboratory — our successor to the ISS — is well into its advanced planning stages. Further afield, we all know that the Chinese are preparing to launch their own space station in a matter of months, and the Russians are looking to do the same in a few years. Together, with our backs against the same wall, we can act quickly.”
“How quickly?” de Clerk asked. “Is it too optimistic to think in years rather than decades?”
Dan sighed audibly. “She literally just said China are launching their thing in a few months,” he moaned. “Where the hell did decades come from?”
“Shut up,” Clark said.
President Slater appeared to consider the question. “Months rather than years,” she said after a few seconds. “For tangible action, that is. An international summit will take place next week in New York, within existing United Nations framework. All being well, a decision will be made following formal discussions on Tuesday. So when you look at it like that, it’s not just weeks rather than months but actually days rather than weeks.”
“A decision will be made?” de Clerk echoed, curious. “By who, exactly?”
“The Security Council,” Slater said. “And I want to make clear that the United States will not obstruct the discussion and will not merely participate; we will lead. Because as true as it as that an American government official hid this lie for so long, it is equally true that an American citizen brought this truth to light. These revelations did not begin in Austria or Argentina, they began in Birchwood, Colorado. This began with Dan McCarthy.”
Leave me the hell out of it, Dan thought to himself.
“And Dan showed great spirit,” Slater continued, “sticking to his guns in the face of strong opposition from all angles. I regret taking the word of Richard Walker over Dan McCarthy, but in my position I think everyone would have done the same. Like everyone else, I always considered Mr Walker an upstanding public servant.”
“I was sceptical myself,” de Clerk said. “But once I’d spoken to Mr McCarthy for a few minutes, I saw something in his eyes. I heard something in his voice.”
“Great strength,” Slater said, coming across to Dan as nothing but patronising. “And now that his single-minded pursuit of the truth has been vindicated, we all owe him a debt of gratitude.”
“She’s got some fucking nerve,” Clark said, standing up and pacing the room. “She sends the Feds to look for evidence and smash the place up — well after she knew it was all true — and now she’s thanking you? Nah.” He walked in front of the couch and looked at Emma. “You still have the audio of her threatening us, right?”
“Forget it,” Dan said, saving Emma from answering. “We’ve got bigger things to worry about now. It’s just like with countries: old grudges are yesterday’s problem.”
“She’s a liar,” Clark said.
“They’re all liars,” Emma said. “That’s what makes it so sweet when the truth catches up with them.”
The trio had missed Slater’s last few sentences during their own discussion, so Dan skipped back thirty seconds with the remote. “Everyone shut up,” he said, “I want to hear the end.”
As it went, the interview lasted only another minute or so. Slater thanked her political opponents again for their restraint in refusing to use the revelations as a points-scoring opportunity, then reiterated that she looked forward to discussing the issues with other heads of government and ushering in “a new and essential era of global cooperation”. These words sent chills down the spines of Joe Crabbe and his listeners but appeased the vast majority who heard them.
After thanking the President for granting the interview, Marian de Clerk asked if she had “a final message for the nation and indeed the world”.
“To quote Prime Minister Godfrey,” Slater said, forcing a cringeworthily unnatural chuckle, “keep calm and carry on, everyone. Your governments are working, together, to protect our planet. And as I said: we should be able to make a firm commitment to action on Tuesday.”
As the TV cut to commercials, Clark was lost amidst a lack of work or any other kind of meaningful schedule. “What day is it now?” he asked.
“Wednesday,” Emma said. “So not long.”
Dan stayed quiet. If recent weeks had taught him anything, it was that a lot could happen in six days.
THURSDAY
D plus 13
McCarthy Residence
Birchwood, Colorado
While the rest of the country spent Thursday digesting President Slater’s comments and anticipating the imminent formal discussions over how the world’s most powerful nations would react to the common threat they faced, Dan and Clark were busy reacting to another piece of news: Emma was moving to Birchwood, permanently.
The topic came up in the early afternoon when Clark mentioned in passing that Mrs Naylor, a recent widow who had lived next door since before Dan was born, would be moving in with her daughter in Denver in a matter of weeks.
“Is the house up for sale?” Emma asked.
“Why?” Dan butted in. “Do you think some media weirdos might try to move in and spy on us?”
“Uh, maybe,” Emma said, “but I was asking more because I need a place.”
“Oh,” Dan said. He smiled slightly.
“Hold up,” Clark said
. “You could live anywhere in the world, and you’re picking Birchwood?”
“What’s wrong with Birchwood?” Dan asked, defending his home town.
“Yeah,” Emma said. “The people are nice and the air is clean, for one thing. Or two, I guess.”
Clark started laughing heartily. “When one of the only two pros on your pros and cons list is that the air is clean, you know you’re talking about Birchwood.”
“I just want somewhere quiet,” she said.
“So you’re choosing the house next door to Dan McCarthy, the world’s most famous idiot?”
“It’s still quiet,” Emma insisted. “People respect your boundaries here, and life moves slow.”
“No arguments on that one,” Clark grinned.
Emma looked at him sternly.
“Listen,” Clark said, “I’m not trying to put you off. It would be kind of cool having you there. I just think you should think about it. What could you do for work if you were based out of Birchwood?”
“I’ve been working seventy-hour weeks for fifty weeks a year since I was 23, Emma replied, “and it wasn’t the kind of work I could leave in the office, either. When I look back to when I first met Jack and started at XPR, it’s like everything since then has just flashed by; I don’t know where my life went. I feel like I need to check out.”
“I know I always joke about you being older than me,” Clark smiled, “but I don’t think it’s quite time for you to retire yet…”
Now it was Emma’s turn to laugh. “It’s not like I’m going to buy ten cats and yell at kids for going by too fast on their skateboards,” she said. “I just like it here, okay? I like the mountains, I like the pace, I like the people. Well, half of them, anyway.”
“You got enough cash to buy the place?” Clark asked. “Because you won’t get a mortgage with no job.”
Emma looked over at Dan. “Money won’t be a problem,” she told Clark. “Someone owes me a favour.”
* * *
Emma received an interesting phone call on Thursday afternoon, from the manager of the RMXT studio complex in Amarillo where Dan’s Focus 20/20 appearance had been filmed.
Sunday’s upcoming episode of Focus 20/20 was going to discuss everything surrounding The Shield, the woman said, and Dan was invited.
When Emma held the phone to her chest and passed the message to Dan, he shook his head immediately. Emma relayed his response.
“What about you?” the studio head asked her.
“What about me?”
“Will you sit on the panel?”
Emma looked at Dan and called him over with her hand. “They want me to do it,” she whispered. “What do you think?”
Dan didn’t like this kind of role reversal. “Who else is doing it?” he asked.
Emma passed on the question and Dan was now close enough to hear the answer directly through her phone. The list of names was a veritable who’s who of public figures who had been embroiled in the IDA leak in one way or another, each name more impressive than the last.
“Timor Fiore via satellite,” the woman said. “In the studio we’ll have Billy Kendrick and Joe Crabbe, together in the same room for the first time in a long time.”
Dan’s eyes widened.
“Plus Jan Gellar and Jack Neal.”
“Jesus,” Emma muttered under her breath. She knew that Kendrick and Crabbe had their own history of antagonism, but the genuine hatred between Jack Neal and Jan Gellar that stemmed from Jack’s days at XPR was on another level. “That is some panel.”
“There’s one more in-studio panellist, aside from Dan or yourself. We invited Ben Gold, but he declined. Naturally we would love to invite Richard Walker if only we could get hold of him.”
“So who’s the last panellist?” Emma asked.
“William Godfrey.”
“No way.”
“He’s going to be in New York for Monday’s summit, anyway,” the woman explained. “His people reached out to us. He’s very much looking forward to speaking with Dan.”
Emma and Dan shared an uneasy look. “I’ll call you back,” Emma said, hanging up.
“Who are the panellists, then?” Clark called from the couch, having heard only what Emma relayed to Dan before he joined her by the phone.
Dan listed the names.
“You can’t do it,” Clark said. “With people like that who talk for a living, they could rip you apart. Especially when it’s live.”
Dan didn’t argue; he didn’t want to do it, anyway.
“I’m only worried about Jan,” Emma said. “She might be sitting on something I don’t know about. But then I have to weigh that against how much money I’d get for forty minutes work. With the ratings they’ll get, the money will be ridiculous.”
“Would you do it for free?” Dan asked.
“Why would I do it for free?”
“Then don’t do it,” he said. “I can do the ads. Will we still get good money for them even now that the aliens aren’t a feel-good fluff story?”
“What ads?” Clark interjected. No one seemed to hear him.
“People still see you as a hero,” Emma said, “so yeah. You can literally name a price.”
“A million dollars?” Dan said, expecting to be shot down.
“Easily.”
Clark stood up. “Are you serious? This idiot is worth a million dollars?” Had Clark been a cartoon character, the dollar signs would have already been spinning in his eyes.
Emma nodded. “If this was still a business deal, I would have Dan’s face everywhere by now.”
“But she knows I don’t want that,” Dan said.
“Right,” Clark said. “But you’ll do some ads, right?”
“I promised I would. We made a deal, way back before you even got home. Emma’s firm were trying to get her to give up and go back to New York because I wouldn’t do any promotional stuff to make them money, but I promised to do three ads once Slater admitted that aliens were real.”
“I might have overstated how hard the firm were pushing,” Emma admitted. “But that was when we were strictly business.”
“I can’t believe no one told me about this,” Clark said. “With money like that we could fix up Dad’s room and bring him home as soon as the hospital okays it.”
An awkward silence circled the room for a few seconds.
Dan broke it first. “Uh,” he stammered, “I promised Emma that she could keep—”
“We’ll work something out,” she interrupted, giving Dan a look that oddly struck him as warm and stern at the same time. “I better tell the studio that I’m not doing the show.”
As Emma walked into the kitchen to make the call, Clark was still smiling like his lottery numbers had just come up. “What are the ads, anyway?”
“Lexington Cola and Beanstox Coffee,” Dan said. “Plus some big and tall clothes place.”
Clark couldn’t help but laugh at Dan’s evident discomfort. “At least it’s not erection pills,” he grinned.
“They’d probably taste better than Lexington,” Dan quipped.
“Probably,” Clark said, glad to finally see a smile on Dan’s face.
FRIDAY
D plus 14
McCarthy Residence
Birchwood, Colorado
Friday progressed in a similar vein to Thursday, with Dan waiting impatiently and passively for the next week to arrive so that the international summit could begin. The passivity was his choice now, but that didn’t make it any easier. He at least had Sunday’s potentially explosive Focus 20/20 panel to look forward to, which shortened the wait slightly.
Blitz News, which the trio now watched almost exclusively, discussed the irony of Argentina currently holding the Security Council’s revolving presidency. Blitz also put out a special report on key moments in the Security Council’s history, surprising many viewers with a graphic which showed that the US had vetoed more resolutions over the last three decades than everyone else combined.
/> There were no mass demonstrations in major cities; if not placated by the promise of action, citizens were at least willing to wait and see what their governments came up with. It remained to be seen whether this peace was a sign of things to come or merely the calm before the storm.
Again, the day’s main event within the house was a phone call. Emma was the initiator this time, having noticed an intriguing message while bored enough to pore through a mass of transcribed voice messages from low-priority and unapproved callers. The message that caught her eye came from an unrecognised number and contained just two words: “It’s Jack.”
Emma walked outside and tentatively pressed the button to return the call. She was somewhat surprised to hear the familiar voice on the other end of the line.
“Finally,” he said.
This was the first time Emma had heard Jack Neal’s voice in almost nine days, when Emma had been at the lake in Italy and President Slater made her thinly veiled threat. “Don’t finally me,” she said. “What the hell happened to your phone?”
“They took it,” Jack said.
“Who?”
“I’m not exactly sure. The Feds questioned me for three days, but I don’t know who’s actually in charge.”
“Of what?”
“The investigation.”
“What investigation?” Emma pressed, quickly getting frustrated at having to extract everything out of Jack with question after question.
“The investigation into the cover-up,” he said. “A lot of people don’t believe that only Kloster and Walker knew.”
“And what do you think?”
“Nah,” Jack said, almost casually dismissive of the notion. “If anyone else knew, it would have come out.”
Emma agreed. “So did they believe you?”
“Well, they let us go.”
“Us?”
“They questioned Valerie, too. Why do you think we didn’t say anything for so long? Straight after the Disclosure announcement came through from Argentina and Valerie read it out, they took us in.”
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