“Do you know,” he asked Gupta. “I sat in this tavern with John Edward Chamberlain almost fifteen years ago, just before he died?”
Gupta indicated it was news to him.
“I was the state representative at his funeral and I was his greatest supporter among my people. I know what motivated him,” Buzami expounded. “And, I understood his predicament. I don’t know for certain, though, just what he was running from. That concerns me greatly because you and those with you aren’t quite what I expected.”
“At any rate, he arrived in a crippled spaceship with no real choice but to stay here or die. I also know who crippled it and they had their own agenda, but of course, you wouldn’t have any idea what that was about, would you?”
Gupta’s face was burning but he remained silent. He wanted to defend himself and his planet, but there were things he was unable to share. For now, he would allow Buzami to take his shots.
“I really wish those who mutinied against Chamberlain had tried to talk to us first. They would have found us to be quite sympathetic to their cause,” Buzami told the bristling Gupta. “But they did not and that is now – How do your people put it? – water under the bridge?”
Buzami took another stiff gulp of his ale.
“My planet does not want revenge on Chamberlain,” he continued. “Or rather, those who came with him, for whatever reason they came. And, we take no great pleasure in knowing you are forcing them to leave here and face an uncertain fate.”
“You are uprooting their families. Some of them have children that were born here. What will happen to them? This is the only home they have ever known. By birthright, those children are Zunnuki. We gave your expatriates the large island and the west coast of the continent out of compassion.”
“We put the cats in charge of them only because that was what brought the cats to the bargaining table. They weren’t seeking revenge either, they only wanted to be sure that those who overthrew Chamberlain could never harm the cats, the settlers who opposed them, or my people, ever again.”
Gupta tried to calm himself, but was still quite uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure if the governor was asking for himself, man to man, or for his government, so he was still wary and unsure he could speak openly.
It was annoying, but not unexpected that Buzami would know more about what transpired during the expatriates’ invasion of Zunnuki than he did. It was annoying because there were things about the invasion and the events that preceded it that Gupta was not privy to, even though he was the commanding officer of the Judge Advocate General’s office assigned to the battle group.
Gupta wanted Buzami to tell him everything he knew, but realized he would also have to share some things Buzami should have been oblivious to in return. He bit his lip and let Buzami continue, hoping the governor’s penchant for never being more than five minutes away from a full tankard of ale would soon lead him to tell the full story without forcing the general to share too much, too soon.
“And, of course, the felines,” Buzami asked. “What of Colonel Calf Stealer? I happen to know all that my good friend Alphie wants is a home, the right to live free and the means to raise a family. Thanks to the nobler of the Ark’s scientists, he will be able to, if not without some help. The plight of the felines is sad…”
Gupta interrupted Buzami. This was one area where he felt the Earth government held the higher moral ground.
“Exactly what are you getting at, Azir,” he asked. “We have promised the felines we would do whatever we could to help them finally breed without cloned surrogates or artificial means. But, for some reason, none of the solutions that our scientists have come up with have been acceptable to them.”
“We have also told them they have the option join and serve with us in the CEF and travel to Earth and be citizens of that planet or to stay here on Zunnuki. They can do whatever they want. We have no ulterior motives…”
“Is it guilt, then,” Buzami asked.
“What do you mean, guilt,” Gupta asked back, looking incredulously at his Zunnuki host.
“I mean, Vijay,” the governor said, re-phrasing his earlier question. “I want to know what it is that motivates your people to be so willing to try and cure the ills of my people and the felines. Is it guilt? Because, if it is, the Zunnuki people have told you we concede that none of this is your government’s responsibility. We ask for no reparations from you.”
Gupta sat back in his chair and looked at Buzami, who seemed quite satisfied to have made his point. He asked Buzami, “Are you telling me you don’t trust my people because you lack the capacity to understand altruism, Azir?”
Buzami laughed out loud. He looked around for the waiter and signaled that it was time for two more ales.
Buzami knew he would have to be friends for a much longer time before Gupta would be comfortable enough to be completely truthful with him. And, and as a career politician, he respected that in the man.
“I only meant to convey my personal observation,” Buzami replied. “Although such a noble concept exists, I find it is rarely exhibited by the army with the more powerful weapons.”
Chapter 9
By the time Gupta got to his room, his head was throbbing.
“Damn this Zunnuki ale,” he exclaimed. He sat his briefcase on the bed and loosened his uniform collar before sitting at the desk. “How the Hell does Buzami drink it all day and night?”
Gupta sat there for a moment or two with his eyes closed tight and his head spinning before he realized the telescreen was on.
“The maid service must have been catching up on their daytime dramas and left it on,” he thought to himself as he started looking around for the remote control. He caught sight of it on the night stand and stood up to walk over and grab it.
Half the way there, his spinning head got the better of him and he plopped down on the bed. He kicked off his shoes and rolled around until he had his head on the pillow and his feet pulled up. He reached for the remote and raised the volume just enough to break the silence.
Gupta was amused by the Zunnuki media. It reminded him of the broadcast television that existed on Earth when he was a child, before the global government strictly limited all corporate media and eventually took complete control of it.
There appeared to be at least thirty different broadcast services and most of them were broadcasting at all hours of the Zunnuki day, which lasted approximately twenty seven hours by Earth standards, but was cut up into thirty Zunnuki ‘hours’.
Gupta flipped through the channels. He had a natural affinity for languages and was having no trouble understanding what he was watching.
For the most part, the Zunnuki seemed to be entertained by romantic and historical dramas although there were a few comedies broadcast in the evening hours. Variety shows were big around the dinner hour and children’s programming was dominant in the early prime hours. News programs ran almost exclusively during the late evening and overnight hours. Most of the news lately was about the visitors from Mu’a’Asari, as Earth was called in Zunnuki legend.
Gupta had watched an hour or two of Zunnuki media each evening since he had arrived planet side with Earth’s treaty delegation. He had become quite fascinated by the Zunnuki culture and found the way it portrayed itself in its own media to be particularly captivating.
Missing from the broadcasts were crime dramas of any type. Gupta wondered if that was because there was almost no crime on Zunnuki or the viewing public just didn’t find a good detective story entertaining.
Gupta lay there and thought about the evening’s dinner conversation while he flipped through the channels. It ate away at him that there were aspects to the invasion Buzami and Calf Stealer were privy to but he was not. It was even more frustrating to him that even though he was the battle group’s JAG officer, pertinent information and possibly even vital evidence about the activities of Chamberlain, his followers and some of his associates who remained on Earth was being kept from him.
; “Need to know,” he hissed to himself.
Gupta’s anger cleared his head enough from the fog created by the Zunnuki ale to formulate a plan of action to start collecting the information he desired.
He pulled his locator from the interior pocket of his uniform jacket. He pressed his thumb lightly on the touchpad at the top of the device to unlock it. Once the tone sounded that told him the device was unlocked he started barking commands into it.
“Locate. Adjunct Colonel. Calf Stealer,” he shouted.
A sleepy voice emanated from the locator after a few seconds.
“General Gupta,” Calf Stealer said apologetically. “Forgive the delay but I’m afraid your CEF-issue communicator is just a bit unwieldy for my feline hands, and it’s difficult to remember a seven-digit pass code in the middle of the night.”
“My apologies, Colonel Calf Stealer,” Gupta replied, not really in the mood for banter. “I have it on good authority the diplomatic ship on its way from home is bringing a supply of wrist-band locators specially made for you and the other felines. They’re voice print activated and don’t need thumbprints or spoken pass codes to unlock. Now, tell me, Alphie. When were you and Buzami going to let me in on the secret you two are fast friends?”
“I would say we are more like professional acquaintances,” Calf Stealer replied after a moment’s silence. “Alphie, eh,” he chuckled. “Sounds like Azir must have been drinking a bit more heavily than normal.”
“Whatever,” Gupta growled. “I just want to know why you didn’t say anything.”
“First of all,” the feline replied. “I’m sure you know as an officer, a diplomat and an attorney, you never show any of the cards you are holding until you absolutely need to. Secondly, you are a smart man, Vijay. It seemed unlikely to me it would have escaped you for much longer that with me being on the War Counsel and Azir being the governor of this district, we might have met once or twice. As for keeping secrets, Azir and I both are interested in why a battle group from Earth would just show up here all of a sudden without any advanced communication or probes of any type. Or, were you communicating with someone, and we weren’t made aware of it?”
“The situation here is complicated, Calf Stealer,” Gupta replied. “There are things that my government, the felines, the expatriates and the Zunnuki people all know that I’m not being told. My people expect me to find a way to get the expatriates off this rock and back to Earth to stand trial for war crimes but they won’t give me all the facts I believe I need to do the job.”
“It also seems to me the Zunnuki would want the expatriate remnant off their planet as quickly as possible. But, Azir tells me he considers them to be Zunnuki citizens and their dead leader a national hero. And he won’t explicitly tell me why he feels that way.”
“Of course, there is also the fact you promised to assist me in finding the answers I need, but I have to learn from Buzami you know more than you are telling me.”
“It’s late, and we must finish our review of the treaty by tomorrow evening, General,” Calf Stealer said.
“Damn the treaty,” Gupta said, trying not to raise his voice. “We both know the forming of the triads was bullshit. This whole exercise is just a way to give the parties a final chance to pick it apart and see if it still stands up. If we can’t find any sticking points, the rest of the groups won’t find any either. I have something more important I need to discuss and I want to talk about it now.”
There was a period of silence after which Calf Stealer spoke up.
“The taverns are all closed. Meet me at the main lift to the surface in the restaurant section of the train station. I need some fresh air.”
****
Once on the surface, Calf Stealer and Gupta started to walk around the ground level of the Zunnuki city. There was little else on the surface but the machinery to send power, light and fresh air to the inhabitants down below. The machinery in the center of the city was so noisy the pair made their way toward the outskirts in order to converse. Before long, they came to the wall that ringed the outside perimeter and strolled along it until they came to the closest open gate.
There was a small ledge near the base of the concrete wall. Calf Stealer sat and he motioned for Gupta to do the same. Calf Stealer spent a moment looking up at the empty guard tower next to the gate before speaking.
“What has your government told you about Chamberlain and his cohorts,” he asked Gupta.
“They told me that Chamberlain used the most ambitious hunger eradication project in Earth’s history to further his insane desires to play galactic explorer, Gupta replied. “He recruited a bunch of his rich buddies to help him build his ark, disguised as an orbiting greenhouse and then promised them he would take them to another planet they could conquer and rule. He used his position as a powerful military contractor to steal secret technology. He also destroyed all of the data and research the governments of Earth paid him for before he left so we wouldn’t be able to follow him. If some of the people he left back on Earth to suffer with the rest of humanity hadn’t turned on him…”
Calf Stealer interrupted. “Do you really believe that,” he asked.
Gupta looked at Calf Stealer with an expression that told the feline he didn’t quite know how to answer the question.
“Okay, then. Let’s approach this logically,” Calf Stealer said. “I will grant to you that Chamberlain and his friends built the Ark from the shell of an orbiting greenhouse. That is a fact. I will also grant you he left Earth in the Ark and traveled here. That is also a fact. But everything else you have said so far is conjecture.”
“How so,” General Gupta asked. “I’ve seen all the documentation that has been removed from Top Secret Panorama clearance.”
“Maybe so,” Calf Stealer replied. “But, what proof do you have the documentation is complete or even that what you have seen is accurate? You have told me yourself there is more information than your government is willing to share with you. How do you know they haven’t left out items that would disprove what they are telling the general public?”
Gupta closed his eyes and sighed. He was about to go on a tirade about national security, but before he could start, Calf Stealer interrupted him again.
“How long did it take Chamberlain to build the Ark,” he asked.
Gupta thought for a moment.
“He started actual construction on it in the year 2145 by my calendar,” he said. “It left orbit in 2160. So, it took him fifteen years or thereabout to build it.”
“So we can say that with planning and construction, it took about twenty to twenty-five years for Chamberlain to go from concept to realization of his plan,” Calf Stealer asked.
Gupta threw up his hands. “I guess,” he snarled.
“And in all that time,” Calf Stealer asked. “How many people do you think he would have needed to let in on his scheme?”
Again, Gupta had to think about his answer.
“I don’t know,” he finally said. “He took around ten thousand people with him. But those that went with him had a stake.”
“What about those he left behind,” Calf Stealer asked. “You said that some of them helped the Earth government recover all of the scientific research that Chamberlain destroyed. Don’t you think that at least one of them might have sold Chamberlain out before he left?”
“I can’t speak to their motives,” Gupta replied. He was starting to flush. It was one thing to have someone point out things that should be obvious. But, it was quite another for them to insinuate they expect more from someone in your position than to have accepted as truth, only one side of a story as unusual as Chamberlain’s saga, without any real critical thought.
When the Armstrong and its supporting armada arrived in orbit around Terra Nova, Gupta had no idea the expatriates would be there. It wasn’t until later the Forward Command admitted to him the discovery was indeed expected.
He asked for all the records associated with the Ark just as soon as h
e found out he would be responsible for bringing the two thousand or so expatriates that were left – most now well into their seventies and eighties – back to Earth to answer for various and sundry offenses. Most of the records he received had large amounts of data edited out of them for reasons of ‘national security’.
Gupta certainly thought that was strange, because he couldn’t think of anything except information on the research that Chamberlain destroyed that would need to be censored for security reasons and he wasn’t asking for any of that. He only wanted enough information about those left to prove intent.
But, for some reason, he was not allowed to view the personal records of many of the civilians. And, stranger still, all of the military records of any expatriates were withheld, whether they were still in the military when they left Earth, or not.
Gupta had to admit it didn’t make a lot of sense that the information was being withheld. He also had to admit he should have pursued it further because it was making it much harder to do his job.
But, the treaty process had started not long after he received orders to round up all of the ex-military among the expatriates and sequester them in the brig on the Armstrong. And, along with his JAG duties, he was told he was needed to participate in that process.
Over the last few months, the treaty had taken up almost all of Gupta’s time, but his superiors were still expecting him to make his cases, and to work at convincing the Zunnuki it was in their best interest to allow him to take the criminals back to Earth. Being put in the middle of two worlds without knowing everything that either of them did about Chamberlain and his people was wearing thin on him.
Gupta spent a moment sizing up the situation. He hoped that any information Calf Stealer had, would give him the ammunition he needed to prosecute the expatriates, or at least an argument plausible enough to take back to his superiors and force them to open up the records he needed. He now hoped Calf Stealer would give him something to use as a bargaining chip with Buzami.
Chamberlain's Folly (The Terra Nova Chronicles) Page 8