by Cyril Adams
The Peace Proxy: Part 1
The Peace Proxy: Part 1
Part 1
Midpoint
The Peace Proxy
Part 1
Cyril Adams
The Peace Proxy © 2014
Cover Art © 2015
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
2
For Jessica, Garrett, and Brandon
Thanks to Brian, Danielle, Dave, John, Debbie, Beverly, Leo, Dennis, Andy, Tanner, Andrew, and Mom. I could not have done it without your encouragement.
1
Garrett Richards brimmed with excitement over the impending confrontation as he waited in the plush lobby. Julie, the receptionist, offered him a warm smile. She held up her index finger to indicate she needed a moment as she returned to her conversation with the computer embedded in her large desk. Garrett briefly studied her. She appeared young, not even thirty by his guess, but who could tell these days? She had dark red hair with a touch of brown, and dark blue eyes. He wondered if they were her natural color before shifting his attention to the whole of the room. The floor was polished stone, marble or perhaps some ornate granite. The walls, lined with raised panels of light-colored wood, extended thirty feet to a domed ceiling. The dome was decorated with an intricate mural of some long forgotten hero with sword raised, ready to lead his legions to victory or death. Large vertical windows ushered in light from the weak southern sun as it reluctantly forced its way above the horizon. The entire room gave Garrett the open feeling of being outdoors.
Garrett’s attention waned, and his thoughts soon drifted to the upcoming encounter with Governor Frank Weller. Garrett’s career as an investigative reporter began thirteen years earlier. He had acquired a respectable measure of success in the interim, but Governor Weller was the highest-ranking government official he had investigated. Garrett smiled thinly, considering how, despite the unity of the world governments, human nature remained unchanged. That the occasionally corrupt public official believed ill-gotten wealth could be successfully hidden away for later use baffled Garrett. It was all too compelling for a disgruntled conspirator, even years after the crime, to find the hypocrisy of a prim and proper public image more than they could tolerate. So, out of spite, the nefarious behavior was exposed.
Charlie Cogburn, Garrett’s editor, was thrilled by the prospect of an exclusive covering the corruption of a high-level official. As for Garrett, he hoped this would finally put that ugly fiasco involving Senator Rimes behind him. Two years earlier, an errant tip sent him on an irretrievably misguided pursuit concerning a purported overly favorable real estate investment. Although he had published many notable investigative articles before and since, he was quite sure his professional ego was still bruised from the ordeal. He was reminded he would not have met Katherine if the events had unfolded differently but the consolation of that truth had become less effective as he came to realize his reputation may never be restored to the level of respect he had earned before the incident.
He broke from his reflections as Julie turned her attention from the computer. Garrett again offered a smile and made his introduction, “Garrett Richards with the Herald.”
Julie returned the smile. “Of course, Mr. Richards. Governor Weller will see you in a few minutes. Would you like some coffee?”
Garrett declined.
“You are welcome to use the holograph while you wait,” Julie added, indicating a set of controls in the arm of the chairs that lined the lobby.
Garrett considered the ostentatious chairs designed to make the Governor’s guests comfortable while they waited for an audience. He decided on one directly across from Julie that allowed him to observe the entrance to the Governor’s office and the entrance to the building with equal ease. He walked across the room to his chosen vantage point. Upon further inspection, he noted all the chairs were similarly equipped with a holographic device. Impressive and expensive, Garrett acknowledged. After today, the Governor would likely want to see Garrett in a different kind of chair, one equipped with a high voltage feed.
The chair actively conformed to support Garrett in exquisite comfort as he manipulated the controls to activate the holograph. He scanned the morning news programs, stopping briefly to sample the United Federation Senate debates over lifting the ban on the use of antimatter drive ships in the Earth’s atmosphere.
A woman who appeared to be in her late thirties was addressing the delegation. Clad in a dark pants suit, with preternatural black hair, and light skin, she was the image of competence and efficiency. Clearly the advocate, she stood in the center of the Senate floor behind a podium. Around her, the other senators resided in tiered alcoves embedded in the walls. The speaker resembled a refined gladiator in a honeycombed coliseum.
She highlighted both the technical and economic success of the three antimatter reactors that provided the world with electrical power, her Nordic accent framing each point nicely. Might as well say, all of Earth’s power, Garrett reflected. Every vehicle and structure on the planet was powered by electricity, save for the spaceships which, in the atmosphere, could only contain a conventional drive. She continued, stating how allowing antimatter ships to operate directly from Earth would eliminate the need for intermediate stops, significantly reducing the space travel infrastructure.
To travel beyond Earth, one had to leave the planet on a hydrogen drive-powered ship, and then dock with an orbital station, officially named Pericles Station, but commonly referred to as the “Wheel.” Once the conventional ship docked and deposited its occupants, they were free to board an antimatter-powered ship to continue to their intra-solar destination. For most that meant the moon’s only colony, Tycho City.
The woman continued advancing her position, stating the current infrastructure was constricting travel by twenty-seven percent. In five years, that number could be as high as seventy percent. Allowing antimatter ships in the atmosphere would immediately relieve the congestion.
“I find it difficult to believe travel to Pericles Station has already reached capacity,” a Senator challenged.
“It’s the water required to propel the antimatter ships that is limiting travel beyond the Wheel, Senator,” the speaker clarified.
“Water?” came the puzzled reply.
The woman advocating the change in policy visibly restrained her annoyance. Her counterpart’s lack of understanding of basic infrastructure she could forgive, the man’s lack of preparation she could not.
“Sir, if you or any of your staff had read the report on space travel that was prepared for this audience, the answer to your question would be obvious,” she admonished, before continuing the explanation. “An antimatter reaction makes one thing, heat, and lots of it. To propel an object, mass still has to be accelerated. Antimatter drives flash heat water to plasma, which expands rapidly and provides the accelerated mass required to produce force. Most of the cargo that we send to the Wheel is water for the antimatter drives. If antimatter ships were allowed in the atmosphere, the hundreds of tons of water we ship to the Wheel every day would no longer be necessary.”
Slim chance, Garrett reasoned. Two years ago there were four antimatter collectors operating in orbit when Vedas Two had a containment breach. The ensuing explosion gave Australia a false day for a few brilliant seconds. It had created quite a phobia against antimatter among the general populace. The only thing that kept the antimatter reactors on Earth from being shut down was the prospect of having to pay tremendous prices for electricity. Public phobia stopped just
short of the public pocketbook. The reactors’ remote locations such as northern Canada, Siberia, and Antarctica allayed concerns of a containment failure for all but the few who legitimately understood the extent of the devastation such an event would generate.
As if reading Garrett’s thoughts, a voice from one of the alcoves challenged the speaker. “What about the Vedas Two breach?”
Garrett switched to the next program where a thin, graying man was addressing four other persons in what appeared to be an open discussion on the former third-world countries. The man had an annoying habit of rubbing his hands together as he spoke. The group was discussing the view that these countries were being exploited by what was still referred to as the developed nations. Garrett quickly changed the channel. The constant debate surrounding the “underdeveloped countries” did not sit well with him. With almost free energy, the countries had quickly developed what, by all arguments, was an equal standard of living. The practical elimination of petroleum use had a profound effect on the world economic structure, with the consumer nations surprisingly experiencing the largest downturn. Although many speculated the shift from petroleum dependency over the past two decades would signal the end of the Middle East energy influence, those prognosticators were not tracking the source of funding for this recently viable renewable energy. The Arabian Gulf states held a controlling interest in the three remaining antimatter collectors and were entirely funding the replacement for Vedas Two.
The next channel was broadcasting a news report of an alleged alien craft observed by a Mars survey team. Garrett listened intently. Sightings of unidentified ships had increased dramatically in the past year as companies began to catalog Martian resources. The screen displayed a fuzzy image of a wedge-shaped vessel. The photo was taken at a considerable distance, and Garrett could not glean much from it. The image was replaced by a young anchorwoman. She reported an emergency session of the United Federation Senate erupted into chaos yesterday when the Chinese delegate threatened to end the thirty-one-year ban on all standing militia. The screen shifted to the emergency session of the United Federation Senate. The Senate floor appeared the same as in the previous broadcast, except the woman promoting antimatter had been replaced by the United Federation Chairman. His stature emanated the confidence of a predetermined outcome as the Chinese Senator addressed the delegation.
“This poses an immediate threat. China is calling for legislation supporting the creation of a standing army, for defense of course.”
“And dissolve the military ban that has been in effect for thirty-one years? Outrageous!” The Australian Senator countered, incredulously. A rumbling thunder of discord made its way through the chamber as dissenting murmurs filled the open space.
The Chairman addressed the forum, “All right, maintain order, my fellow statesmen. The Alien Research Center will make a statement concerning the sighting within the hour. No one here is suggesting we require anything more than the police forces we currently maintain.”
“On the contrary,” the Chinese Senator countered. “China is suggesting we need more, and if the Senate doesn't act, China will.”
The murmurs quickly grew into shouting as mayhem erupted throughout the assembly.
“Order! ORDER!” The Chairman demanded as he tried to regain control of the session.
With the bulk of the Senate drama concluded, the anchorwoman reappeared to announce the Alien Research Center had issued a statement explaining the sighting as a survey ship observed through the distortion of the Martian atmosphere. The center maintains the alien fleet will not reach our solar system for at least sixty-seven years. It continues to coordinate humanity’s research efforts, ensuring we are prepared to meet the impending threat.
Garrett was so intent on the news report, Julie had to tell him twice that the Governor would see him. Garrett thanked her as he moved toward the large double doors that led to the Governor’s office. As he reached out to open the door on the right, both doors opened inward, automatically. The Governor had a proclivity for the extravagant.
2
The Governor’s office was decorated similarly to the lobby, except for the wall behind his desk, which was entirely glass. Rumors of the Governor’s private garden, the most extravagant and criticized aspect of the recent Jersey State House renovation, had reached Garrett. The Governor had the complex gutted through the center to make room for his private oasis. Despite being locked in winter’s grip, the view of the manicured, snow-covered topiaries, merging seamlessly into a series of heated water features, was serenely captivating.
Governor Weller stood as Garrett approached the desk. He offered his hand and a forced smile. Seeing the smile, Garrett knew instantly Weller feared the reason for the visit, but he was playing along cordially, in the hope that Garrett’s target might be someone else. Garrett also assumed Weller knew Garrett’s specific professional niche, either by reputation or through a background check, which he was certain preceded any visit.
“Welcome, Mr. Richards. Please sit down,” he offered in a friendly manner. Garrett assessed him rather quickly. He was dressed in a suit of dark green. His collar was unbuttoned, and a tie lay on the desk. His mannerisms tended toward the naturally friendly. Knowing this short interview would bring Weller’s world crashing down evoked the briefest feeling of doubt. Here is a guy who just got in over his head, poor fellow. He noticed Weller’s skin and his suit hung loosely on his body, indicating recent liposuction. Weller’s physique trended toward the plump side. He must be unable to take metabolism stabilizers, Garrett thought. For the unfortunate Mr. Weller, this meant his metabolism could not be brought into equilibrium; he actually had to use activity and monitor his diet to maintain his physique. There was a small percentage of the populace that could not dip into the well that truly provided a better life through chemistry, but, in recent years, the ability to match an individual was almost taken for granted. Recognition of the Governor’s condition struck a deep chord of pity in some part of Garrett that he rarely found a use for, and the excitement of the impending conversation withered away. Under normal circumstances, Garrett lived for these moments, when the predator knows the prey has allowed the distance between them to irretrievably shrink, leading to only one possible outcome, and this aberrant feeling was ruining it for him. It was not that Garrett was an especially hard man, but years of investigative journalism had left him somewhat indifferent when it came to the human condition. Was he going soft? Garrett dismissed the notion. Focus, he chided. You are here for a story, not to dissect Mr. Weller’s trials and tribulations.
“Governor Weller, thank you for seeing me, particularly on a Saturday,” Garrett started.
The Governor nodded his head, but the smile left his face as he did. “Well you can’t stop the press, right?”
“Right,” Garrett agreed as he sat in the offered chair facing Weller’s desk.
“You said you wanted to speak to me concerning the State’s construction contract.”
“That is correct,” Garrett began. “It seems the state averted a strike by a matter of hours.” That’s the spirit. Now that the interview was underway, the old instincts were emerging through this haze of self-examination. “I’ve been following the contract renegotiations for the State’s infrastructure sustainment.” Garrett continued, “No one expected the impasse would be overcome so quickly.”
The Governor nodded his head in agreement. “Thank you. It is quite an accomplishment for the State of New Jersey.”
“Of course, your negotiating team must be second to none.”
“The best,” the Governor agreed.
“There is speculation that paying a penalty for the work that was erroneously authorized would have saved the state more money than renegotiating a contract that would expire in a year.”
The Governor shifted slightly in his chair before replying. “It depends on how you run the numbers. On the surface, it appears the settlement put the state at a disadvantage, but the out-of-scope wor
k was extensive. Due to a misunderstanding of the contract structure, much of the work had been completed. The Union made it clear anything short of a renegotiation would be countered with legal action. It is important for the residents of New Jersey to understand the cost of litigation would have been considerably more than negotiation. At least this way the residents of New Jersey are getting services for the expense.”
“Yes,” Garrett paused briefly, feigning contemplation over his next statement. “There are some rumors concerning the nature of the compensation.”
The Governor again shifted his bulk as if the subject had somehow rendered the conforming chair decidedly uncomfortable. “The terms of the agreement are public record,” he countered.
Garrett continued, “I am referring to rumors of personal compensation.”
“I assure you my staff’s ethics are impeccable,” the Governor replied coolly.
Garrett responded with a half-smile, knowing the interview was about to take an ugly turn. “No doubt. The rumors concern your involvement.”
The Governor straightened, scattering items across his desk. The reaction could not have been more dramatic if he had been struck by a stray bolt of lightning from the clear blue sky visible through the room’s decadent picture window.
“Mr. Richards, that accusation borders on slander,” he belted out with all the anger he could muster. “If you’ve come here to accuse me, you’re gravely mistaken.” His eyes narrowed as he continued with a sinister tone, “Do you think I don’t know how you ended up with that two-bit rag you write for now? How hard do you think it will be to discredit you?”
Garrett assessed Governor Weller for a moment before calmly replying, “Given my history, how sure do you think I would have to be to accuse you?”