Fall of the Core: Netcast 02 (The Frontiers Saga Book 3)

by Ryk Brown

  “The twenty-five percent ready-state has always been a requirement for the majority of our government transportation contracts,” Miss Patane added, “in order to ensure an immediate response to increased shipping needs due to unexpected events, like the current crisis.”

  “And yet, you are about to commit a large portion of your reserve fleet to this evacuation project.”

  “We prefer to call it an emergency colonization effort,” Miss Patane countered.

  “Either way, your ability to respond to an increased need in shipping here, in the Sol sector, will be reduced.”

  “As it would be if we were being asked to add those same ships to the current fleet servicing the shipping needs of the Sol sector today,” Miss Patane replied.

  “Were you requested to do so?” Hanna asked. “By any government on Earth, or by any private interests?”

  “No, this was our idea. Stellar Express is betting on the human race, and we’re betting trillions of credits.”

  “You’re betting an aged fleet that is no longer cost-effective to operate due to increased maintenance costs and slower transit speeds. One that you are contractually required to retain,” Hanna pointed out, thinking she was taking the fire out of their position.

  “We never claimed there was no profit motive involved,” Miss Patane stated.

  Hanna looked surprised by her statement.

  “We said there was no immediate profit involved. The truth is that, eventually, no matter how many of us succumb to this plague, the human race will bounce back. And when it does, Stellar Express will be there to keep all the human-inhabited worlds connected. By assisting in the colonization of hospitable worlds well beyond the Sol sector, we are ensuring that the human race will survive. The worst-case scenario is that everyone here on Earth dies, as well as everyone in the Sol sector. In that case, those who depart on our ships now may be the only ones who survive. Is that not a good enough reason to donate our entire reserve fleet to this emergency colonization effort?”

  Hanna thought for a moment. She did not want the interview to turn into an image-boosting PR grab for Stellar Express, even if their motive was purely humanitarian in nature. “Mister Morra,” Hanna began, turning her attention to the older gentleman. “The ships in your reserve fleet are the Benda-class ships, are they not?”

  “Thirty Benda-class, and twelve Norris-class.”

  “Aren’t the Benda-class ships known for hull maintenance issues?”

  “They were, prior to the invention of multi-layered EM shielding, yes. The Benda-class ships used an outer hull that was soft, and was designed to absorb the smaller particles that the single-layered EM shielding was unable to deflect. The outer layer of these hulls, especially their leading surfaces, had to be regularly changed, as their panels became saturated with space debris, thus increasing the overall mass of the ships and making them less efficient.”

  “Then the hulls were not as safe as, say, the Orion-class ships in your primary fleet?” Hanna asked, fishing for something.

  “They were perfectly safe,” Mister Morra insisted, perturbed by her insinuation. “They just required additional maintenance because of their soft outer hulls.”

  “Why design the ships with such expensive hulls?”

  “When the Benda-class ships were built, multi-layered EM shielding had not even been theorized. In addition, the demand for interstellar transport was much lower, since there were only the five core worlds of Earth at the time.”

  “If the ships were safe, why were they taken out of frontline service?” Hanna asked.

  “It was less expensive to downgrade the ships to reserve status and replace them, than to refit them with multi-layered EM shielding and newer FTL systems. As reserve ships, they would only be asked to operate for limited time periods.”

  “Some of the destination worlds listed are easily a hundred light years away,” Hanna replied. “That’s hardly a limited time.”

  “The most wearing portions of any interstellar transit are the transitions out of the departure system, and into the destination system,” Miss Patane explained.

  “All of our Benda-class ships have had their outer hulls replaced,” Mister Morra assured Hanna. “Which means they are in better condition than when they were making regular runs between core worlds a century ago. In fact, they are in better condition now than they were during their last colonization contract, when they transported the colonists to the 72 Herculis system, more than forty-seven light years away. There are several of them still in service, on their way to the Patoray system, which I believe is sixty-three light years away. There is nothing unsafe about them. They are simply not as cost-effective to operate on higher-demand, higher-transit speed routes, because of the additional hull-maintenance needs. Hence, since we began replacing them more than twenty years ago, each of them has been retired to reserve status upon its return.”

  Hanna sighed a little, realizing she was chasing a dead end. Even if the reserve ships were not as safe as the newer ships, she was never going to get them to admit that on camera. “Getting back to the issue of cost of passage,” Hanna said, changing direction. “Many are saying that Stellar Express could easily afford to absorb the cost of putting the ships back into service, as well as the cost of the propellant to complete the proposed transits, and that Stellar Express is taking advantage of the current crisis, knowing they will have no problem selling out every suspended animation chamber on all forty-two ships.”

  “If you look at the prices for each destination, you’ll see they are way below standard rates when you compare them against previous transport missions, and adjust for distance and equipment costs,” Miss Patane defended. “In fact, Stellar Express is not even charging enough to recover the loss of each ship dispatched. Remember, none of them would be returning.”

  “It also relieves your company of their contractual obligation to maintain the reserve fleet,” Hanna countered, “which, by your own admission, is expensive to maintain.”

  “Not to maintain, only to continually operate,” Miss Patane corrected before Mister Morra could respond, a move that did not go unnoticed by Hanna. “Admittedly, there are financial advantages available to Stellar Express for donating our reserve fleet to this emergency evacuation effort. But again, to donate our propellant reserves would put the other worlds of the core at risk.”

  “But if those worlds are also hit by the Klaria virus, just as Mars and Kent have been, then the demand for your services will decrease there, as well,” Hanna surmised.

  “Commercial private sector shipping will undoubtedly decrease,” Miss Patane admitted. “Earth exports have already decreased, as have imports of Mars grain. But that could easily be replaced by requests to transport refugees from one world to another, or aid between worlds. By purchasing the needed consumables, propellant, and colonization equipment and supplies, we are helping to keep the Earth’s economy alive. And by asking for payment from those wishing to relocate, we are ensuring our own company’s continued operation, in order to provide whatever shipping requirements the worlds of the Sol sector may have during this crisis.”

  “But what if the crisis demands transportation services that Stellar Express cannot meet without its reserve fleet?” Hanna asked.

  “No one can truly anticipate future needs,” Miss Patane replied. “However, based on current trends, our analysts are confident that our current fleet of Orion-class ships, with their faster speeds and quicker turnaround times, will be more than adequate. Using the reserve fleet in this way only helps to support that outcome, as well as get more people out of harm’s way.”

  Out of harm’s way, Hanna thought, amused. “Hurtling across the galaxy at twenty times the speed of light while in a comatose state, toward an uncertain future at best, is hardly ‘out of harm’s way’.”

  Miss Patane appe
ared uncomfortable for the first time since she had walked into the room. It was a slip that Hanna was sure she would not have made, had she been as experienced as she wanted everyone to believe. It was at that point Hanna realized who she really was. All corporate public relations spokespersons were young, attractive, and intelligent looking, with trusting faces. While Nicolette Patane was somewhat attractive, and quite well spoken, there was something off about her. Something that didn’t quite fit the usual corporate PR spokesperson image. That’s when Hanna realized Miss Patane was probably filling the shoes of someone, or several someones, who had succumbed to the Klaria virus. “Especially in ships that your organization would likely have sold off, or completely dismantled, had it not been for contractual obligations to the contrary,” Hanna added without missing a beat.

  Miss Patane placed her hand on the small pendant hanging from her neck.

  “What the hell?” Graham said, looking at his control panel. He looked at Arielle. “She just killed all our camera feeds.”

  “This interview is over,” Miss Patane announced in a huff, immediately rising to her feet. “You will not be airing anything,” she added confidently.

  “Or what?” Hanna challenged.

  “Or nothing,” Miss Patane replied smugly. “You have nothing to air.”

  Hanna quickly turned and looked at Graham.

  “I don’t know how the hell she did it, but everything is gone…the entire data stream. It’s like the cameras were never even on.” Graham looked at Arielle. “I’m sorry, I should have…”

  “We still have your statements, Miss Patane,” Arielle said, ignoring Graham’s apology for the time being. “If you refuse to continue the interview, then we will simply report what you said.”

  “Without any collaboration, we’ll accuse you of reporting false information. We’ll sue you and your…”

  “In what court?” Hanna laughed. “Haven’t you heard? Half the population is dead. Do you really think the courts have time for your silly lawsuits?”

  “You were way off script, Miss Bohl,” Miss Patane accused.

  “You gave me permission to go off script,” Hanna countered. “I believe your words were ‘wing it’. Well, that’s exactly what I was doing. We’re a news team, remember? Not your personal PR department. We’re here to get the truth, not your chosen spin of it.”

  “I was giving you the truth. It was you who were doing the spinning, Miss Bohl. You were trying to turn an attempt to help humanity into a trick to get out of expensive contractual obligations…”

  “Isn’t that what you’re doing?” Hanna insisted. “At the cost of those booking passage?”

  “Aren’t we allowed to at least offset our losses?” Miss Patane argued. “We’re trying to survive just like everyone else, you know.”

  “You’re right,” Hanna agreed.

  “She is?” Graham wondered.

  “You do have a right to try to survive,” Hanna continued, “but the people selling everything they own to book passage on those ships you’re trying to get rid of also have a right to know why you’re really doing so.”

  “Since when do corporations have to explain their motives to the general public?” Miss Patane demanded.

  “When half the world has died in only two weeks’ time! That’s when! And this was your chance to do just that. This was your chance to show humanity that we can help one another, even while we’re all barely holding on.”

  Nicolette Patane stared at Hanna for several seconds before replying. Hanna sensed she had pushed the woman as far as she could, and that she had neither the experience nor the authority to make any further decisions.

  “I will speak to Mister Cassan, and I will get back to you,” Miss Patane finally said. “Meanwhile, I strongly recommend you do not report anything discussed today until you hear from me. We may not be able to file suit at this time, but we can certainly discredit you, and NCN World, to the point that you will lose most of your advertisers.”

  Hanna laughed outright. “Lady, you really are disconnected from reality, aren’t you. NCN World doesn’t have any advertisers. No one does. Hell, we’ve barely even got any competition any more. Humanity is dropping like flies out there. When’s the last time you left this building? When’s the last time you’ve been down to street level? When’s the last time you’ve breathed the acrid smoke of burning bodies?”

  Miss Patane did not respond, rather she turned and left the room without another word, followed by her two assistants.

  Hanna watched the lady depart, her mouth agape. “Not exactly the response I was hoping for,” Hanna finally said.

  Simon Morra rose from his seat. For the first time since he had entered the room, he didn’t look uncomfortable. “It’s been a real pleasure, Miss Bohl,” he said, extending his hand. “And for the record, every one of those ships is safe. I’d put my own family in them.”

  “Are you?” Hanna asked.

  “No, I’m not,” he admitted. “But not because I don’t believe they are safe. I just don’t believe that running away is the answer. Someone has to stay and rebuild the cradle of humanity. With God’s grace, I hope to be one of them. Good day to all of you,” he added before departing.

  Hanna sighed, watching him leave. She turned to Arielle. “Well, I guess I screwed that up,” she admitted in frustration.

  “Actually, I thought you were doing pretty well,” Arielle assured her.

  “Well, what do we do now?” Hanna wondered.

  “We get back to the production shuttle as quickly as possible,” Graham said under his breath as he commanded his camera orbs to float across the room and return to the docking case. He bent over and pulled out a small data core from its receptacle, showing it to Arielle and smiling.

  Arielle looked at the display on the core. It didn’t read empty. In fact, it was nearly ten percent full. She looked at Graham in disbelief.

  “I’ve been doing this a long time,” Graham snickered.

  “She’s right,” Arielle said, “you are making it difficult to not like you.”

  * * *

  Hanna sat next to Arielle and Graham as the backup recording of the interview played on the view screen in the production shuttle.

  “What made you think to run a live backup?” Hanna wondered.

  “I always run a live backup,” Graham explained. “Any good videographer does.”

  “Why didn’t their erasure field wipe your backup?” Arielle asked as they watched the interview.

  “That is a trick that only the best videographers use,” Graham boasted, leaning back in his chair, an arrogant smile on his face. “I started doing it years ago, when I was working the Congo wars with Jassar Etherman.”

  Hanna turned to look at him in surprise. “You worked with Jassar Etherman?”

  “Etherman, Binday, Theile…all of them. Actually, it was Sesson Binday who taught me how to shield my backup drive from erasure fields.”

  “I didn’t even know that was possible,” Hanna said.

  “Not many people do. If it were public knowledge, someone would figure out a way to get past it. That girl knew quite a few tricks. Did you know she was a videographer before she became a reporter?”

  “Really?”

  “Yup. Her reporter took a round in the head just before she started rolling. Sesson knew that if they didn’t get the report, they wouldn’t get paid, and she’d be stuck in the middle of a war zone with no way out. So, she stepped in and did the report herself. It was the last time she ran a vid-rig.”

  “I had no idea,” Hanna admitted.

  “That’s what made her so good on camera. She knew where the orbs would be at all times and played to them, always getting the best angles and the best shadows. That’s what makes a dramatic shot, you know. Shadows and angles.”r />
  “She keeps speaking before he can,” Arielle said, her concentration on the view screen.

  “Yeah, I noticed that, as well,” Hanna said.

  “Maybe they didn’t get a chance to brief him?” Arielle suggested.

  “I got the impression that she was the one who wasn’t prepared,” Hanna insisted. “I’m thinking she isn’t their usual spokesperson. She wasn’t polished enough, not for a company like Stellar Express.”

  “You may be right,” Arielle agreed. “Look. That’s the third time she’s shifted in her seat since the interview started. She’s definitely nervous. The question is, about what?”

  “That they’re gouging the public,” Hanna insisted, as if it were obvious.

  “No, that’s not it,” Arielle argued. “She had all the right answers for that. She even made it look like they were discounting their fares as much as possible while taking trillions in losses, and donating a healthy cut to the GDCO.”

  “That was a bunch of bullshit,” Graham insisted. “The GDCO is taxpayer funded. Every nation on Earth contributes to their budget. They don’t need their fucking money.”

  “Then where is that twenty percent going?” Hanna wondered.

  “That’s their profit,” Graham insisted. “Granted, not a huge margin by normal standards, but still, hardly the humanitarians they’re trying to convince us they are.”

  “That’s illegal,” Hanna declared.

  Graham laughed. “More crimes have been committed in the last two weeks than in the last two centuries!”

  “He’s right, Hanna,” Arielle agreed. “This isn’t about legal or illegal. It isn’t even about right or wrong. They’re lying to cover their profit margin. What I don’t understand is why.”

  “To make more money,” Graham stated.

  “But they don’t need to lie,” Arielle pointed out. “They’re the biggest interstellar transportation company around. They have sixty percent of the market. All things being equal, most people would choose them over any other provider just because of their name and reputation. A lot of people would be willing to pay more because of it. And don’t forget, their fare-pricing model doesn’t include compensation for the loss of those ships.”