Chapter 2: Who Goes First?
It was an agonizing decision. There were several parts of the decision. Not only who would go first but who would be the ones to choose. The decision was loaded with emotion and politics. It was starting to get tight. With the exception of a few NGO organized evacuations that the Marshal and the Queen had allowed; no one had been evacuated since the bombing, only people from other star nations had been allowed to leave and the few hundred souls with the Roustabout. Maybe another ten thousand who had legitimate off world contracts had gotten off world. People were beginning to think that they would die on the planet. It didn’t help that the opposition news media was making it sound that the rich would get off first. The news conferences were becoming a nightmare of endurance.
“Good morning, it is now impact minus five months two weeks and three days.” Pete said in what had become the evacuation command’s press center. A combination of tents and mobile trucks parked outside the north gate of the palace. “I am, here to brief you on today’s activities.”
“When are you going to start evacuating,” Someone yelled.
Pete just glared at the man.
“Is it true that your evacuation plan calls for the nobles to get off world first,” Another yelled.
“What is this I hear about all the art in the museums being taken off world and sold,” A woman in the back yelled.
Pete remained quiet. He had tried every trick he knew to bring order to these conferences. He finally decided that the only way to regain control at these conferences was to stay on his program, not to answer questions until he was ready to, and more importantly to remain silent until everyone got the message. He let them yell questions at him for fifteen minutes he looked at his watch then said, “Good day folks. The next briefing will be at 1400.”
He gathered up his papers and left the podium. His professor was standing just out sight of the press. The man slapped him on the shoulder as he joined him. Pete turned to his secretary and said. “Put these releases out on the system. Make sure that they are not mailed to anyone who was in that meeting today. You pass the word that press passes will be pulled on anyone who doesn’t start showing some respect.”
“It was mostly the opposition press that was doing the yelling.” his professor commented.
“I know,” Pete said, “I know. But if I keep doing what I am doing the others who don’t want to have their time wasted will start beating up on the ones causing problems. It may take a meeting or two. But it will work.”
At the 14:00 news briefing the opposition reporters started to throw questions before Pete even got to the podium. The Trena press was like any press corps anywhere. If there was a story they wanted to beat everyone to it. When the subject didn’t want to talk they figured the subject was hiding something. They were in a feeding frenzy. They knew the crown was ready to announce who would be the first 25,000 evacuees to make the first lift to Home. They knew it was politically charged and they knew that the evacuation command had to make the list public and how they came about their decision. The opposition was ready to pounce and make the Marshal justify every name on the list. But they had loaded the deck. The marshal had not made the decision nor had anyone one his staff. He and his staff had sat down and made a manpower staffing document for the first lift. They had determined what trades and professions were needed to make the lift work. They included every trade or profession imaginable from robot programmers to doctors and lawyers. Once they had determined the mix they had instructed the census expert system to randomly choose twenty five thousand souls that fit their manpower bill from those who had already volunteered to be part of the first wave.
Although Wilson wanted to eliminate potential trouble makers, like when Lord West’s name had popped up; but he had told the expert system that anyone who had more than a minor traffic infraction was not to be on the list. He didn’t want troublemakers or people who couldn’t get along in society to be part of the first lift. Although those folks, the ones who didn’t normally conform to the society they lived in, usually made the best pioneers and explorers. They also could cause all of the problems that a young world didn’t need. Not on this lift. They needed hearty souls, people who could work together to get things done. These first 25,000 souls had a little over three weeks to get ready for a massive influx of people. There would be on average 25,000 souls arrive every couple of days from here on out until they got everyone off world. These had to be people who knew how to work together and were the best they could be.
The news media didn’t have any idea what the marshal had done. Because of the opposition news media they hadn’t been able to make the announcement. They had even held off sending the announcements to the people who were going to be the first to go. Everything was set. Jonesy was ready to start dropping shipping containers at the homes of the first people who would be the first to go. There was an attack carrier that had just made orbit. It was stripped. No weapons. Its flight decks were empty. The usual thirty thousand complement of an attack carrier which included a marine expeditionary force with all its equipment was missing. Its crew of two thousand starmen needed to run the ship were the only people presently aboard. It could handle 45 thousand containers, and thirty thousand souls, more so since it didn’t have to be combat ready. They didn’t have to be able to make a combat drop so they could scrimp on the things they normally wouldn’t.
It was all set to go but they wouldn’t make the announcement until the media started to be behave themselves. Pete was going to be stubborn one more time. He was all set to start pulling press credentials. As he stepped down from the podium he noticed a couple of reporters surround one of the more ardent reporters.
“Look!” one of the more respected veteran reporters buried a finger in a woman’s chest. “Unless you shut your mouth you are not going to learn anything. I also have it on good authority that unless you shut the fuck up; all of us are going to have our press credentials pulled. If I get my press credentials pulled I don’t have a job. If I lose my job guess what cutie pie your boss is going to hear of it. So the next time shut up or I’ll shut you up.”
“How dare you!” the woman pulled the man’s finger out of her chest, “If you don’t get your finger out of my boobs I’m going to sue!”
“Tough shit.” the man said hooking his finger in her bra. As the woman pulled his hand out of her chest it pulled on the bra, his fingers released suddenly. The snapping sound was heard clear across the tent. More than one reporter snickered. The man had made his point. “If I can’t work I can’t make money. If I can’t make money you can’t get any of it! So go ahead sue! I don’t care!”
That was all it took.
“Good morning,” Pete said the next morning. He was mildly surprised when the reporters settled down quickly. He had asked that the protective service to post a couple of units just out of sight just in case he had to gain order that way. But he was not going to play around with these guys this morning. They had already lost twenty four hours because of these clowns. He was determined not to lose another day. “I have an announcement to make concerning the first evacuees to Home,” He paused waiting to see if anyone would make an outburst. When none happened he continued, “Based on a manning schedule put together in cooperation with the ministry of labor, the justice department, the Royal College of Physicians and other professions and trades, we have compiled a lists of applicable professions, and trades needed for the first lift to Home. A list of names meeting the criteria that the Marshal’s staff came up with was fed to an expert system and those whose survey stated they would be interested in becoming part of a pioneer party or an initial colonizing up team that met the criteria have been selected. As I speak, notices are being sent to those selected. By midnight tonight those selected will have been notified. All those selected have until midnight tomorrow to acknowledge their selections. Should they not answer the summons, they will be given another twenty four hours to acknowledge,
should they not acknowledge by that time the AI will go down the list until it has 25,000 individuals for the first lift. Once they acknowledge the summons they will receive information on how to proceed. They shouldn’t just start for the space port. The names will be posted on Evac Net by the end of the week with the first lifts to the newly commissioned Outta Here some time Sunday or Monday.”
“I will entertain a few questions,” Pete said.
“How many families does this entail,” Someone asked.
“I think and these numbers will change,” Pete answered looking at the notes the AI projected on his podium screen. “It lists some fifteen thousand families.”
“What are you calling families,” Another person asked after being acknowledged by Pete.
“Our typical family. You know how our people wed and make families. The lift will also include people about to retire, or have retired. People who can pass their trades on or help take care of others as needed. The idea was to mix old with new, and diversity of skills and knowledge. For instance one family is the owners of a bakery. But not everyone in the family is a baker, one of the daughters is a police officer married to a warehousemen. Another of the sons is a school teacher. Another of the daughter in laws is a therapist. We need all those talents and we don’t want to break up a family if we don’t have too. So far the AIs been able to find those families whose skills we need without breaking up a family. You have to understand that this first lift will be the people who will be setting up facilities for the rest of us. They need not only carpenters, and masons, but doctors, nurses. But they also need someone to watch over the children, and someone to cook for them. To fix their machinery and the other support people needed so they can work. That is our plan. Every lift we send out will have that type of mix.”
“Are any nobles included with this list?” Someone asked from the back.
“Yes there a couple but they have not been notified yet so I am not at liberty to give you their names.” Pete said.
“Will their entire business or estate be transported with them?” Someone asked.
“Only those people who want to be on the initial pioneer parties,” Pete said.
“Will they be given lands comparable to those they now have?” Another reported asked.
“No,” Pete said, "Some of their people will be transported with them, but they have no noble status on Home. Although there will later be a dispersal of lands, at the present time none of our people will be given much more than an acre or so. The details haven’t been worked out at this time. But suffice to say that nobles who own large estates here on Trena will not own large estates on Home.”
“When will the Marshal and his family be evacuated,” someone asked.
“The Marshal and his family will be the very last persons to be lifted from this planet, or nearly the last. The Queen has made it clear that she will not leave until every last mother’s child has been safely evacuated from Trena. The Marshal has stated that he will insure that the Queen’s statement is fulfilled.”
“What about some of the art and precious works in our museums when will they be shipped?” an arts reporter for the Trena Post asked.
“We plan to ship a little bit of it out with each lift.” Pete said, “Currently there is no place to display it on Home. Some of this art must be kept in climate controlled environments. So it will remain in storage until we have such a facility to display it. It our intention as towns and villages are created and populated to put a lot of the art in traveling exhibits. But that is a few years in the future.”
“What about the Marshal,” another opposition reporter asked, “Will he be given an estate on Home?”
“No sir, he won’t be given anything on Home,” Pete stated, this is what he and the Marshal had come up with. “His family owns this world he has ceded certain areas of it to the people of Trena. Areas not ceded to the people of Trena will remain the property of Jill Wilson.”
“Does she truly own it,” Someone asked.
“Yes,” Pete said, “His daughter is the heir to the Estate of Margo Hazelton Wilson, who was the great, great granddaughter of the original Ebio founder Dr. Leonard Jenks. When Lord Wilson left earth with Lady Wilson he assigned his shares in Ebio to his daughter in a trust to be voted by his step mother, Admiral Wilson and Princess Carol of Earth. To make a long story short, Jill Wilson owns the world as part of her estate.
“What do the Wilson’s get out of it? Will they be our new monarchy?” someone asked.
“They don’t get much out of it,” Pete said, “It is the Marshal’s intention to retire to the estate they are going to build on Home, and let the people of Home run their affairs without his or his daughter’s intercession.”
“What’s the Queen’s position on this? And the House of Lords,” a reporter asked.
“The Queen has not discussed any of this with me or anyone from the parliament,” Pete said not telling the full truth. The Queen had discussed it him but not how she felt about it.
“Thank you sir,” one of Pete’s assistants called from the back of the room after Pete had signaled that it was time. He didn’t want to go any further on this issue. It was filled with land mines and not small ones. He knew Wilson’s history better than Marshal Wilson did himself and knew that were some things that should not be discussed with others quite yet. Pete left the podium. As he did the first notices were being received by those selected to go first.
Every Last Mother's Child Page 84