by Aer-ki Jyr
Greg met the Tranquility security detachment at the other side of the umbilical, sizing them up. There were four guards, armed with little more than cuffs and a baton, wearing the uniforms of British policemen. They parted respectfully as he walked out a few steps ahead of Davis to where the newly minted Regent and several other personnel were waiting for them.
Greg nodded his respect to the elderly man, but said nothing, waiting for Davis to emerge, flanked by the two Knights which reflexively drew all eyes wide and upwards.
“Regent Windsor,” Davis greeted, extending his hand.
“Director,” Nevil said graciously, returning the man’s firm grip. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance once again.”
“Oh?” Davis said, taking a second glance at the slightly taller man. “I wasn’t aware that we’d met before.”
Nevil waved off his concern. “A lifetime ago, at some conference I can’t even remember the name of. Though I must say, you’re looking fitter now than then.”
“Thank you,” Davis said, accepting the compliment without offering an explanation. Rumors surrounding his longevity had taken up far too much of his time in idle conversations for his liking. “I understand this colony has become something of a retirement home itself?”
“This way, please,” Nevil insisted as the group began to walk, with Greg nosing in front of Davis while the Knights brought up the rear. “We’ve found that the low gravity considerably extends one’s useful years. As a result, more than a third of our population is over the age of 60, but productive they still are. We’ve accumulated a bit of a brain trust that I’m thankful for, now that we no longer have the resources of Earth to fall back upon.”
“Speaking of which, how are you faring in way of supplies?” Davis asked as they were escorted into a tram terminal with the door to an empty car open and waiting.
“We’re good for the next three months, minimum,” Nevil assured him as the group stepped aboard the bus-sized monorail, which had also been designed and built by Star Force engineers as a means of both personnel and cargo hauling to and from the landing pads. Once inside and the doors sealed, the tram took off through a pressurized tunnel that would lead directly to the understructure of the central tower.
“Though we’ll obviously need a means of resupply after that. I’ve already struck a preliminary deal with Brazil for foodstuffs and other basic items that we can’t currently produce on our own, which was one of the things I was hoping to speak with you about. We’d like to expand our infrastructure as much as we can afford, with an eye towards self-sufficiency.”
“What are you looking at as far as GDP?” Davis asked, already having run some basic guestimates.
“An improvement, actually, now that we don’t have to pay any more bloody national taxes,” Nevil said with obvious enthusiasm. “Conservative estimates say we’ll be running around 32 billion pounds, though if we can centralize our industry with a few key facilities I think we’ll be pushing 40 within two years. Now that we no longer have any red tape to work around, we’ve been getting initial inquiries from a number of corporations wishing to set up business ventures. I haven’t made any decisions as of yet, because I knew we needed to square things away first.”
“I appreciate the gesture, knowing how critical it is for you to get your economic foothold established as soon as possible.”
Nevil waved off the comment with a downward thrust of his right hand, upon which he now wore a sizeable ring on his index finger. “It is no gesture, I assure you, but rather a necessity of function. You corner the space economy, and as such set the playing field all others have to work out of, though some do try to work things out to the contrary, don’t they? That is not a complaint on my part. You’ve been even handed and notoriously fair since you began this grand corporation…or is it nation by now? Neither seems to fit Star Force these days, and I suppose it’s all really semantics. Star Force is what you make it to be, and we’re all better off for it.”
“Nice to have a fan,” Davis acknowledged as the tram came to a stop and opened up beneath the tower onto a promenade filled with kiosks circling a small park.
“Not as grand as your designs, but this is our one aesthetic indulgence,” Nevil said, raising his hands theatrically towards the park that was filled with trees and small artificial creeks, all of which were crisscrossed by paths and patios used for both transit and recreation. Davis could barely make out a few cracks of infrastructure on the far side of through greenery, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to guess at the size of the area, save for mentally calculating the arc of the circular perimeter.
Four massive support columns rose up out of the forest and intersected with a milky, crystalline ceiling back lit for illumination and giving a decent imitation of sky. The columns, however, didn’t fit with the motif and stuck out like a sore thumb, but had to be placed there for engineering reasons to support the tower above.
“The rest of the city is economically designed,” Nevil continued. “Not claustrophobic by any stretch of the imagination, but new arrivals from Earth sometimes have a hard time adjusting to the completely urban feel. This plaza often helps them breathe during those first few weeks, after which they adapt quickly enough. This way,” he said, motioning to an elevator annex built into the outer wall.
Nevil waved his staff ahead of him, while he and Davis took the next available elevator. Greg went with them, telling the bulky Knights to follow them up to level 62 after Nevil realized that the five of them weren’t going to fit in together and offered directions in lieu of an escort that he’d already sent on ahead.
The trio got off three levels shy of the top of the tower which fortunately, from an engineering standpoint, didn’t have the height limitations of those on Earth, thanks to the lesser gravity. As a result the builders, who were not Star Force, were able to pack a lot of living space into a very small footprint, extending the reach of the tower well above the rest of the surrounding buildings, some of which rose up above 20 stories in their own right.
“Here we are,” Nevil said, gesturing the two men towards a set of large, ornate doors that had been propped open by two security guards that stood at attention. Inside was a long, wood rimmed, glass centered conference table with a third of the chairs already taken by Nevil’s staff. Davis sat down at the head of the table opposite the taller chair where the Regent was obviously intended to sit while Greg waited in the hall momentarily for the Knights to arrive, then ordered them to stand guard outside next to Tranquility’s own guards…which fared poorly in all comparisons.
Greg took a seat cattycorner on Davis’s left as the Director leaned forward on his elbows. “Before we get down to details, there is a matter of which I need to inform you,” he said, no emotion whatsoever in his voice.
Nevil nodded for him to proceed, curious with a hint of apprehension.
“The ban of services imposed on the United Kingdom also falls upon Tranquility. You cannot escape it by declaring independence.”
The Regent frowned deeply. “I thought by coming here you were signaling your readiness to support our declaration of sovereignty?”
“I am and do so. As far as Star Force is concerned Tranquility is an independent nation, equal to all others in stature. You are also welcome to open an embassy in Atlantis at your convenience, the costs of which Star Force covers, of course, as all ambassadorial staff are considered our guests.”
“I’ll be pleased to take you up on that offer, but I don’t understand how Britain’s ban can affect us if you consider us sovereign?”
“As of now, the UK has a minimum ban of 35 years. That number will increase dramatically as this war continues to progress. We’re holding all the nations involved accountable for their actions, and as they continue to misbehave their penalties will likewise increase. What they do from this point on will not affect you, but what they did in the past does, for you were them at the time.”
“Tranquility did not participate in the
war effort,” Nevil argued. “It seems unfair to penalize us for it, especially considering our unique circumstances and needs.”
“If we had not acted,” Greg answered in Davis’s place, “and the UK had won this war, Tranquility, along with every other British colony, would have gained from the spoils. Participation in the war effort isn’t the issue. You were part of the UK. You gain from their success, therefore you pay for their failures. We will not allow pieces of a nation to escape our ban by breaking off, even if that isn’t your intent in this case. You were British, and their black mark carried with you into your independence.”
Nevil sighed. “Logical, I’ll give you that, but it also seems excessively harsh.”
“This decision was made long before the war started,” Davis explained, “dating back to the brief war we fought with the Chinese. Up until now it hasn’t had cause to be implemented, but it has always been our policy.”
“However,” he added, holding up a hand for emphasis, “the way in which you broke ties with your home country is not irrelevant. Had this been an amicable split, you would have carried with you the same penalty in full, but since your reasons for independence put you at odds with the war that has caused the penalties to be applied, the ban upon you will be mitigated.”
“How much?” Nevil asked, a glint of hope returning to his eyes.
“Seeing as how you also acted for the protection of your people rather than for political aims, the 35 year ban is being reduced down to a single year, effective beginning with your declaration of independence.”
Nevil sat back in his chair and audibly sighed, his formerly taught body relaxing as he sagged back against the thick cushions. “Now that is the justice I’ve come to expect from Star Force. You leave just enough of the punishment in place to remind us of the seriousness of the offense and that past actions cannot, and should not be ignored, but reserve your full wrath for those more deeply involved in the crimes.”
Davis exchanged a glance with Greg. “Best compliment I’ve had in years.”
Greg smiled back, then turned to look at the Regent. “Though you have the right to construct your own military for defensive purposes, I suggest that you don’t. I can promise you the protection of our fleet so long as you hold to our rules, same as every other nation. Given your limited finances, creation of a military would be counterproductive to your country’s long term development.”
“I had hoped you’d say that. That also means you’ll prevent any militaristic move on the part of London to reacquire this territory? On that point, by the way, are you recognizing our claim to this entire territorial region as well or just the city?”
“The entire region goes with you, given that there are no nearby adjacent British territories to claim ownership,” Greg explained.
“Excellent,” Nevil said, wringing his hands together with joy. “May we then discuss future projects, to be commenced after the 1 year ban has run its course?”
“Discuss, yes,” Davis answered. “Order no. That will have to take place day 1, but there’s no reason we can’t get all your ducks in a row beforehand.”
“Ah, good! First of which I’d like to ask your advice on a foodstuff production facility. I know you offer several varieties for sale, and given that we’re going to need to be producing our own down the line rather than having to pay the expenses of importing, what sort of setup would you envision for a colony…excuse me, nation of our size?”
“I was looking over the parameters of that challenge during my trip here,” Davis said, not missing a beat, “and I recommend buying all foodstuffs from our Lunar market during your first year. That way you can experiment with the various types of foodstuffs we produce, ironing out what your population actually needs, and then begin constructing your own facilities to make those very same products. If you start with generic factories at the onset, you’ll be dictating to your people what to eat, rather than producing what they want.”
“I see your point, Director. Patience and planning will serve us better than haste. I hadn’t realized your facilities were so specific.”
“They’re modular, but it’s costly to swap out the default equipment, so it’s more economical to adjust your demands prior to construction.”
“To maximize our limited finances, yes, I agree. Let me back the question up a bit further then. What do you suggest we start with, in terms of acquiring new infrastructure?”
Davis smiled. “An excellent question. If I were you, I’d begin with a class-3 mining substation, positioned approximately 50 miles to the southwest, adjacent to several of your existing mining sites…”
From there the discussion continued for hours, with Davis pouring out a host of recommendations and the two leaders coming to terms on a variety of matters, all of which would insure a close and productive relationship between the two men and their respective economies well past the Regent’s reign. The ‘Tranqs,’ as their people would come to be called, would take their place as one of Star Force’s closest allies in the years to come and set an example for other colonies that Earth was no longer the key to their future. Their destiny was in their own hands now, if they so chose to embrace it.
And many more would do so in the coming days.
5
May 15, 2109
Archon Kelly-522 checked the report handed to her by one of the techs Star Force had assisting the South Africans with the dismantling of the weaponry on their orbital capitol station. The datapad had a list of items removed and work estimates on the remainders, coupled with personnel assignments with holes in some of the schedules due to a lack of sufficient manpower. She’d hoped to have gotten the mission accomplished within a week, but since the South Africans hadn’t supplied half of the techs they’d promised, her people were having to handle the majority of the dismantlement on the large habitat station.
“Reshuffle team 3 over to the PDLs. They’re a pain to get to, but once they’re finished it’ll free up a work skiff to help with the dorsal cannons,” she said, mentally reworking the schedule to shave off a few hours. Their SR had been parked outside the large space station for four days, with a fully armored Kelly and a handful of security officers boarding the station along with the techs to insure everything went smoothly.
Three weeks previously the South Africans, feeling the pressure of the Lunar blockade and seeing the seizure of a few more isolated warships, had solicited Star Force for terms of surrender, hoping to maintain some of their space infrastructure before it was all confiscated away. The agreement that Davis struck with them included a 30 year ban on services, reduction of their Lunar territories to four, a permanent ban on any Mars activity, and complete disarmament of their space forces, including the defensive weaponry on their stations.
Kelly and other Archons were leading tech teams to assist with the dismantling, and to keep the South Africans from stalling or rethinking their surrender agreement. In exchange Star Force had guaranteed to protect them against reprisals from the others still fighting the war, contingent on the disarmament. Removal of their ground troops from Luna was already underway, with a Star Force assisted retreat from their few occupied territories, but until every single spacebound weapon in South Africa’s possession was secured, the agreement wasn’t sealed and the clock on the ban wouldn’t start to count down.
What South African warships had survived the war to date had already been surrendered, leaving the rest of the ground troops and the station and cargo ship weapons dismantlement as the final steps to full compliance, which would take the warring nations down from 7 to 6, though those that still remained at odds were fervently pushing their offensives, seeming to want to take as much territory as they could before the blockade really sunk its teeth into their supply levels.
Naval warfare throughout the Earth micro-system had escalated as well, with the American side faring poorly. The fleet they’d lost at Mars had seriously hurt their numbers, and the recent influx of Japanese small scale capital ships, fresh
off their shipyards, had begun to swing the tide to their side. The Americans hadn’t fielded a new warship since the initial attack on their shipbuilding infrastructure, and the Germans and West Africans had only added a few to theirs, with the latter making purchases from corporate suppliers in lieu of building their own.
The ground war had likewise swung the other way after a key victory by an allied German/West African assault force that took out one of the pesky Japanese strongholds. With it eliminated, the threat to three nearby American territories was lifted, allowing a redistribution of personnel that gave the impetus back to the Americans who put the screws to the British in retaliation for their orbital gains.
One of those gains was the total capture of Habitat Block 18. Once it fell, the other four complete blocks followed quickly enough, given that the Americans had pulled some troops out of the others to reinforce more critical fronts. That left the British in control of more than 90% of the orbital State of Nimbus and nearly 1 million American civilians being taken as British prisoners. The 54th state had been reclaimed by the Americans’ historical sovereign, jokingly referred to in the British press as payback for the 13 colonies they’d taken away from England during the Revolutionary War.
“Hold on,” Kelly said, raising an armored hand up at the tech, indicating that he should stay put while she received a signal via her armor’s comm system.
“Archon, we’ve just received a warning from fleet command,” the Captain of the SR relayed to her. “They report that a West African battle fleet is headed our way, four hours out.”
Kelly closed her eyes for a moment. “Please tell me we have reinforcements enroute?”
“Yes, but only one will arrive prior to the intercept window. Two more are mathematically calculated to arrive 3 minutes after the West Africans.”
“Fleet composition?”
“12 warships, frigate up to cruiser in tonnage, but staggered arrival. Apparently they disguised their approach vectors on tracks to current hot zones, then broke off towards us to get the jump on the fleet. We’ll have one cutter and SR-119 to deal with at least a pair of cruisers before our own frigate and destroyer arrive. We’ve got other ships heading our way, but hours behind.”