by D. A. Hill
“Cyrus you don’t have to do this,” Jen said when he explained it to her. “I’ve already gotten you in enough trouble. It’s all my fault; I talked you into accessing those documents. Please, leave me to deal with this mess on my own.”
“Jen I can’t do that,” Cyrus said as they turned off the interstate on to a minor road heading north. “I didn’t agree with you releasing the story but what’s done is done. You’re still my little sister and it’s still my job to look out for you.”
“I’m a grown woman Cyrus. I should take responsibility for my own actions,” she replied.
“Jen these are not normal times. There won’t be a trial in which you can argue the first amendment and all that. If you’re lucky they’ll just lock you up and throw away the key, but it’s more likely they’ll just shoot you as soon as they’ve finished parading you before the holo-cameras. I’m sorry but I can’t let that happen.”
“Alright Cyrus,” she conceded. “But where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe I hope. Somewhere you can hide until this blows over.”
—o—
Regina Lopez was surprised when Cyrus charged past, avoiding eye contact. She knew they were not exactly best friends, but this was more like the behavior of a man with something to hide. A person with something to hide was a security risk. Lopez was now officially Chief of Security so that made it her business. And at heart she was still a spy. There’s nothing a spy likes more than uncovering a secret and Cyrus Jones was acting like a man with a secret. She was left with no option, either professionally or personally, but to follow him.
Lopez exited the elevator at the parking garage just in time to see Cyrus Jones climb into James Newton’s car. That definitely counted as suspicious behavior—she had not seen him go anywhere beyond walking distance in the entire time she had been here. She ran to her car and started after him, making sure to follow from a discreet distance.
To her surprise he stopped at his apartment where a woman exited the building wheeling a suitcase. The woman quickly entered the vehicle—she was obviously expecting Cyrus—and they immediately headed off. Regina concluded they were on the run, but to where and from what? And who was the woman? As far as she knew Cyrus was single. Actually that was just a working assumption in the absence of any evidence to say otherwise. For a while she had suspected something with Dr. Ivanov but further observation did not seem to confirm it. She kicked herself for not looking into his background more closely, especially after she had already warned herself not to underestimate him.
As the traffic thinned she instructed her car to drop back further; it was painted in that distinctive shade of green that would make it impossible to mistake for anything other than an Army vehicle. If Cyrus Jones spotted it he would surely know it was her following him.
Lopez soon realized where they were heading. North-east out across the plains, taking the same route she had followed Newton on, a route that she now knew ended at the underground launch facility. When Newton’s vehicle turned off the main road on to the gravel track that lead to the missile silo, Lopez knew she could not follow without begin seen. She drove past the track and over a small crest before parking her car. It would be hidden from view here, assuming Cyrus left the same way he came. She had no reason to believe otherwise, but there was no other option anyway, out here on the plains where you could generally see for miles.
She ran quickly through the field of long grass to a position where she could observe the building. Newton’s vehicle was parked out front but there was no sign of Cyrus or the woman. Assuming they were inside the building, Regina moved in closer, hoping she could see or at least hear what was going on inside.
“I’ll get back as soon as I can Jen. In the meantime just try not to worry. There’s no reason for anyone to come out here.”
Regina Lopez heard the door opening. She pressed herself against the wall as she watched Cyrus Jones climb back in Newton’s car and drive off.
—o—
“Mr President, if we fail to honor our obligations to the Australians under Article V of the ANZUS Treaty we will be announcing to the world that our word as an ally is worthless,” Secretary of State John Hammond pleaded. “If we don’t act now this will only be the beginning. We’ll be declaring open season on our allies everywhere. The Iranians and Iraqis are already making threats against the Saudis, Pakistan and India are on the brink of another nuclear exchange and there are low-level border conflicts breaking out all over the place.”
“What would you have us do John?” Harry Branston asked. “The military is already stretched thin guarding our borders and maintaining law and order at home. We don’t have forces to spare, even if we wanted to risk starting a war with the Chinese or anyone else.”
“Which we don’t,” the President added.
“What do I tell the Australians?” Hammond pleaded.
“Tell them the United States is with them in spirit but cannot spare military forces to assist them at this time,” Carlson replied. He was bitterly disappointed that the United States could not fulfill its obligations to one of its most loyal allies, but he had no choice. Saving the American people, or at least some of them, had to be his first and only priority.
“Don’t worry John,” Branston said. “The Aussies will already be expecting that answer. Their government is simply going through the motions in order to have someone other than themselves to blame.”
“Jesus Harry, the Aussies might have had a chance,” Hammond said ruefully. “Once the Chinese are finished with them they’re screwed, just like everyone else.”
“Is there no country other than the United States that has a chance of putting together an effective survival strategy?” President Carlson asked. As much as he was committed to ensuring the survival of American civilization, he knew that ultimately it was the survival of the human race that mattered.
“Australia and Canada were the best chance Mr. President,” Branston replied.
“Based on?” Carlson asked.
“Based on their relatively small populations, large food surpluses, effective public institutions and geographical isolation. Argentina and South Africa have most of those characteristics but both have totally ineffective governments. If we’re struggling to make this work, I can’t imagine how they can.”
“What about Europe or Japan, Korea, Taiwan?” Carlson asked. “They’re wealthy, well run countries.”
“Too many people, too little food, too dependent on imported resources,” Harry Branston replied. “The Russians are already holding the Europeans hostage—insisting on food exports in exchange for continuing to maintain gas supplies. With winter approaching the Europeans don’t have much choice, which means any chance they had of accumulating any sort of food surplus goes out the window.”
“So we simply sit by and do nothing?” Hammond asked angrily. “If that is to be our strategy I believe you will no longer be requiring my services Mr. President. You will have my resignation on your desk within an hour.”
“John, don’t be rash. Take a day to think it over.”
“Mr. President with respect, time is running out. You have my best wishes in continuing to do the difficult task before you. But I can clearly do no further good here. I ought to spend whatever time is left with my family. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
“Let him go Paul,” Branston said as the President watched the Secretary of State leave the Oval Office. “He was right. He can do no further good. Diplomacy is of no use to us now.” Harry Branston was glad to see the back of John Hammond. He was just one more voice of weakness encouraging the President to indulge his idealism, distracting him from confronting the harsh realities of what needed to be done. The sooner the rest of the John Hammonds were gone the better.
—o—
Regina entered what had been a recreation room for the security crew assigned to the missile facility. “Hello Jen,” she said calling the woman by the name she had heard Cyrus use. “Who are you and
what have you done to deserve a vacation in this lovely place?”
The woman, who had been lying prone on the couch, sat bolt upright, startled by the sudden appearance of an imposing figure in uniform. She appeared unable to speak. “It’s OK,” Lopez said in a calming voice, “I work with Cyrus. Major Regina Lopez.”
Jenny was sufficiently reassured by that to find her voice. “I’m Jenny Ryan, his sister.”
“Oh,” Lopez said. She looked closer and could see the resemblance. Definitely related. “Cyrus didn’t mention you.” Lopez knew she should have been concerned that she had allowed Cyrus to keep his sister hidden from her for who knows how long; loved ones could be one of the best forms of leverage. If she could use that against him so could others, making him a major security risk. Instead she felt relieved to discover that the woman was his sister. It was less complicated than the alternatives she told herself.
“Nobody is supposed to know I’m here,” Jenny said. “Except Cyrus and James Newton. How did you know?”
“Military Intelligence,” she said pointing to the insignia on her lapel. “Once a spy always a spy I’m afraid. I followed you from Denver. Cyrus was behaving strangely. Well strangely in a different way to the way he normally behaves strangely.” That got a laugh from Jenny. “It aroused my suspicion.”
“So, you’re going to turn me in,” Jenny said. Her surprise had dissipated and turned to resignation. She knew she could not really hide from what she had done; she had only agreed to come here because she knew Cyrus would never forgive himself if he did not at least try to protect her. Jenny stood and placed her wrists together in front of her ready to be handcuffed. “I won’t give you any trouble. But please, I’m begging you to find a way to keep Cyrus out of it.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Regina said, signaling for Jenny to resume her place. Lopez could tell that whatever it was this woman had done, she was feeling very guilty about it. That would work to her advantage; guilt loosens a person’s tongue. “Why don’t you tell me what terrible thing it is you’ve done first, and then I’ll decide what to do about it.”
—o—
Jenny Ryan tried to put the discussion with Regina Lopez out of her mind. Her fate was in the hands of others now. She turned on her pad to check the fallout from her story, hoping to find something to make what she was going through worthwhile. There it was—a Presidential announcement.
She watched on her pad’s holo-projector—she suspected there were full size projectors somewhere in the underground facility but she had not had a chance to look for them. The President was not exactly being apologetic—in fact he was defending his decision to keep details of the asteroid and the government’s plan secret—but it seemed to Jenny he had at least accepted that the time for lies was over.
After describing the plan for the arks, and communicating his disappointment that they could not accommodate more people, the President turned to the most important issue. “I understand that the American people demand a fair and open process for selecting the ark occupants. Today I am announcing that process. There will be no favoritism, no special deals, no guaranteed places, even for myself and other government officials. Positions will be allocated strictly via a lottery for which every American will be eligible, subject to certain conditions,” the President said.
“First and foremost amongst those conditions is that you carry out all and any work you are directed to perform by authorized government personnel. Let me be absolutely clear. Should anyone fail to adhere to this condition they will become permanently ineligible for the lottery. Furthermore they will immediately lose all entitlement to food rations.”
Jenny was shocked at the harshness of the conditions—threatening people with starvation if they did not follow orders—but she could see the logic of it. Food and a possible place in the ark had now become the only currency anyone was interested in. There was no other way left to motivate people.
The President went on to describe how the lottery would work. It would be held in September 2047, three months before the asteroid was due—late enough to motivate people to continue working, but soon enough that the winners could travel to the ark and get settled in time. One ticket would be issued to each individual or to each nuclear family—married couples and their minor children. Jenny agreed that made sense. No point in breaking up families or taking small children without their parents. Everyone had six weeks to register and anyone found cheating—registering more than once for example—would be summarily executed.
As terrible as the President’s announcement was, Jenny knew that what he was proposing was much better than the previous situation where the majority of the population had no idea what was coming and a privileged few were likely to monopolize the arks. Cyrus and James Newton had predicted the worst if she released the story but it appeared to have achieved everything Jenny had hoped for. The government was finally being honest with the American people and putting in place a fair and open process for selecting those who would survive. Jenny Ryan felt vindicated. She knew this was only happening because of her story. Whatever was going to happen to her, tonight she would sleep better than she had slept in weeks.
—o—
As she drove back to Denver, Regina Lopez tried to decide what to do about Jenny Ryan. Maybe Ryan had been right to do what she had done, leaking the documents and exposing the administration’s lies, but that was not for Regina Lopez to decide. That was for a court and a judge and a jury. Except Lopez knew there would be no court, no trial, no due process. Maybe a military tribunal in which the outcome was as good as predetermined. Maybe not even that.
Then there was the bigger picture to consider. Newton would probably go down with Ryan. She thought his plan was crazy, but maybe, just maybe, Newton’s Ark really was the last hope for humanity. If that was the case and she destroyed it, her crime would make Jenny Ryan’s offense pale into insignificance.
And then there was her father. Would he be considered guilty by association? He was all she had in the world. She could not take that chance. Even if by some miracle he was not implicated, he believed in Newton’s Ark. Would he understand? She knew he would be gracious—tell her he knew she was only doing her duty—yet she knew he would still feel betrayed by his only child, and his insistence that he understood why would only make her guilt worse.
Finally there was Cyrus. He would surely be arrested with his sister. Regina would not be able to prevent that even though Jenny had begged her to keep him out of it. The authorities would quickly figure out that Jenny Ryan did not have the skills to access a top secret government system by herself; it was a very short leap from there to her computer genius brother. Regina had to admire Jenny Ryan’s courage and loyalty, and Cyrus’s as well. His sister had done exactly what he had warned her not to do, yet here he was risking everything to protect her. She had not credited Cyrus Jones with that much character. Once again she realized she had underestimated him.
Everything she thought she believed told Regina Lopez that she should turn Jenny Ryan in. Immediately. The longer she kept this to herself the more she became part of the conspiracy and the less tenable her position as an officer of the United States Army became. It should have been an easy decision. She pondered that as she drove. She did not have to drive very far before realizing it was a surprisingly easy decision—the decision to betray the oath she had taken to her country—and surprisingly liberating.
—o—
Throughout history repressive regimes had made a practice of not posting military personnel to their home territory or district—the purpose was to make conspiring with the local population to challenge the central authority much harder. The United States had never needed such a policy. So it had been no more than a curiosity that the two most senior military positions in South Carolina just happened to be held by native South Carolinians. But the United States had never been a repressive regime. Until now.
It had taken South Carolina Governor Sandra Hogan some time to set
up the meeting—she could not just invite the two most senior military personnel in South Carolina to the Governor’s Mansion without arousing suspicion. A reception to honor prominent South Carolinian military leaders provided the cover she needed.
Governor Hogan watched and waited. Waited until the two men were together and near enough to an exit that she could lead them out without attracting undue attention. As soon as she saw her opportunity she took it. “General Paul, General Rich, I’m so pleased you could come given the difficult environment we find ourselves in,” she said swooping in and greeting them warmly. Hogan hesitated for moment as she considered what it was she was about to propose. There would be no turning back if she went down this path. But what alternative did she have? She steeled herself. “I wonder if we might have a word privately?” she asked as she ushered them towards her office.
“Sorry to be so cloak and dagger,” she apologized as she closed the door. “But this is a very sensitive matter.” The two men waited for her to explain. “What’s your take on the President’s announcement?” she asked them.
Army Major-General Hayden Paul guessed immediately where this was leading. He gave an answer that was non-committal. “One in eight hundred is not good odds.”
“Not good at all,” Air Force Brigadier-General Gary Rich added. “But what’s the alternative?”
“I honestly don’t know, General,” the Governor replied untruthfully. It was not quite time to lay all her cards on the table. “But let me ask you a question, both of you. Do you believe we are going to be able to hold the country together in these circumstances?”
“What do you mean, Governor?” General Rich asked.
“To put it bluntly, General,” she replied, “how long do you think it will be before someone, somewhere decides that it’s every man for himself so to speak?”
“I don’t think it will be all that long,” General Paul replied. He was sure now where this was heading, but he was not going to be the one to go there first. Until he was sure the others were committed to the same drastic course of action, he was not going to stick his neck out only to have it chopped off by an executioner’s ax.