I choked down the bile.
“It’s more what I can do for you,” I replied, my ears flushed with anger.
“Well, from your little press statement, it looked like you wanted to cause no end of trouble. How is that working out for you?” he said. “Oh be quick, my time is short.”
“You win,” I replied, and his tone changed from one of smirking superiority to shock.
“Excuse me?” he said, curious.
“Look, I know we have had our differences, but it’s a nightmare out there. If we work together, we might be able to avoid martial law and you might be able to salvage the last few months you have in office,” I said, pressing the point home, playing it as diplomatically as I could.
“What do you think you can do to calm them down?” Rusch replied. I had piqued his interest. He might have been a sniveling creep, but he was a sniveling creep that had attained the highest levels of power.
“You force me to register, and I make a statement about how colonization is the only clear way forward. You make a deal with parliament and agree to keep me on as ambassador and you let the leaders of the morphic community out of lock up. You know as well as I that these are the actions of a few that don’t even consider themselves part of the greater community.”
“We have the upper hand. Why should I give a damn about what happens to you and your precious morphic community at all?” His grin reminded me of something demonic, as he sat up straighter in his chair, looking down his nose at me. The awful son of a bitch was enjoying watching me grovel.
Rage sparked at the edges, as a burst of tinnitus rocketed through me, and I wavered, briefly, steadying myself against the desk.
“Our world is only sixty years out of the last world war. People have a longer memory now for atrocity, and make no mistake, this is an atrocity. However, the longer it remains, violent and bloody in the public memory, the more of a chance your friends in Earth First have of losing the will of the people. It’s happened before. What’s ending tonight is the most peaceful period the world has known in its history. Do you really want to risk being remembered as the chancellor that helped the world return to its bloody past?” I said, appealing to his ego and his drive to maintain his legacy.
“It appears you have learned much in your time as an ambassador to those damn snakes,” he said, showing his full contempt for the Mendians.
“Politics is a messy business, and I’ve learned how to work with pigs,” I spat as his look turned briefly sour.
“We will try your plan, but I have my doubts. If this fails, I will personally ensure it all lands on you. Rusch- out.” His instincts for being a self-serving bastard were apparently working in my interest.
“Fuck Boss, what did you just do?” Jill said, breaking her silence.
“I think I just made a deal with the devil,” I replied.
Chapter 15
I was certain Rusch was enjoying the show from his comfortable office in the Hague. Jill and I were on a UEA prison transport; my normal voice collar had been replaced with one that was made of steel and locked around my neck. Jill was bound at her wrists in traditional shackles, taking she was a more normally shaped biped. I was attached to a ring in the floor. Two armed soldiers sat beside Jill and myself as the craft lowered to Earth.
There was a loud thud as it hit the tarmac a little too hard, jerking me forward and down. It caused a brief pain, but nothing was really damaged other than my pride. I felt a slow building terror as the ramp lowered and the soldiers rose to unshackle me from the floor.
They paraded us out in front of the gathered throngs, which included a world press contingent.
We were the first morphics being forced to register for colonization.
The scene was chaotic and betrayed the controversy of the act. Half the crowd was throwing things, and shouting anti-morphic slurs. A glass bottle zipped by, narrowly missing Jill's head. Some people had signs that read "Death to Genetic Traitors."
To my left though, were throngs of humans, all carrying signs and banners in solidarity with the morphic community. One even said, "We Love you Snow, Hero of Apocalypse Day." They were clashing loudly with the detractors to my right.
A large security detail from the registration building joined the two guards and formed up around us. They were clad in full riot gear, their shields covering us with an impromptu roof as more objects rained down.
The building was the regular disappointing blend of low budget design and ruthless government efficiency, looking more like a licensing office than anything else. The room was pristine and empty, and overly bright thanks to buzzing fluorescent tubes just above.
I moved to the station and it read my genetic algorithm number located in my nanitic systems, interfacing as soon as I set my paw on the pad.
Genetic algorithm number confirmed. Please state name and societal identification number.
“Dawkins, Snow, 488-9292-6516”
Confirmed, registration complete, status upgraded, colonial citizen, Snow Dawkins.
“Upgraded,” I scoffed. Jill was finishing up right next to me.
The soldiers removed our chains, but kept us under guard, as they moved us to another room to address the press. Rusch, for now, was keeping his word, but I knew it wasn’t for my sake, or because he believed in basic common goodness.
“Snow Dawkins, just days ago you came out strongly against the Farthest Star Act, but today you willingly registered. What kind of message does this send to morphics that perceive you as a leader among your people?” said a reporter, wearing a Space News wind breaker.
“It should send the message that I will refuse to be treated as livestock by the world I was born on, when freedom waits for me just beyond the farthest star,” I said, and at the mention of that phrase, the press went nuts. The flashes of the photography temporarily blinded me.
“I have worked as a servant of the people for the last ten years, and have been proud of my time representing the UEA. The Treaty of Song I consider my crowning achievement, but when parliament passed the Farthest Star Act, they sent a clear message.”
“Yes ma’am, and what do you feel is that message?”
“That we are fundamentally unwelcome regardless of our value or worth. That morphics, no matter how hard we fight, how many of us die, how dearly we pay in blood and pain, no matter what we achieve, will never be given the status that non-morphics enjoy in UEA society. This is not a failure of morphics, but a failure of our government to lead all peoples in the oft professed ideas of tolerance and equality. It has been made painfully clear that we are not welcome, and not wanted.”
“Initially, my first instinct was to fight. I was raised to believe in the UEA charter, to believe that rights extended to everyone, no matter their race, color, creed or appearance. I believed that the UEA and her people shared those values. I realize now that I was mistaken,” I said. I had never spoken so frankly.
“I realize now that we only have one opportunity to recapture the lost freedom and dignity we have suffered under the rule of the UEA and that is, we take whatever ships we can, and we leave Earth in an exodus to start our own colonies, our own worlds and live apart from the people that have rejected us and stripped us of our rights.”
“Are you saying that you consider the UEA your enemy? Are you siding with the Transgenic Resistance?”
"Morphics have never been the enemy of the UEA. The UEA has always been its own worst enemy. The Earth may be my home, but I can no longer stand by as my personhood is violated, as my dignity is sold wholesale, as the rights and freedoms of those I care about are ground into the dirt in the name of social harmony. There is a better future for us, there is a better life than the one we could have here, a life free of chains, out amongst the stars. That is our only hope for dignity and freedom. The UEA has shown its true colors and we stand united as one million against the stated will of twelve billion. As much as you may wish to fight, and it is natural that you want to do so, our future lies in
another battle. A battle to build our own world, not sullied by the ashes of this world's tyrannies.
“Are you advocating for morphic secession?”
“According to the Farthest Star Act, the only rights we have codified into law are those we establish on our own once we reach the colonies. No, I am not talking about secession; I am speaking only about the opportunity to start a society based on universal equality where we can raise our children without the fear of bombs in our clinics or of government black teams in the middle of the night. I am talking about a chance for our people to live in peace without fear, living amongst humans that want to accept us for who we are.
“I have been a member of the diplomatic community for ten years now as ambassador. I have fought hard to represent humans and morphics, and in spite of my best efforts, it has come to this. Truly, I regard the passage of the Farthest Star Act as an insult to the work that I and many others have contributed to, since the Treaty of Gates, to build a truly equitable society. Its passage is a failure that reaches back to the Age of Nations, and wakes the sleeping demons of societal oppression and fascism I had hoped we as a people had left behind. Now, for the first time I address you, no longer as a citizen of my own government, but as a cast away, a lone voice crying out in the darkness, and I have a message for my people, the Morphic people, and the humans that have not sold out to fear.
"My fellow morphics, my family, join with me, unite with me, let us forge our own path in the heavens towards the farthest star, and leave this time of darkness and fear behind us forever. Thank you; that will be my only statement,” I said, and I was led off the stage by the guards, back to the prison transport. The press snapped pictures as Jill and I walked with our heads held high up the ramp. We both stopped at the top of the ramp and I raised my paw. The crowd fell completely silent as the ramp retracted and closed.
Chapter 16
We returned to the UEA space station in orbit, and back to the diplomatic quarters. Harper was there waiting for me.
“I think you might have done it,” he said, as he motioned to the monitor on the wall, displaying the Sol News Network.
“Today, under heavy guard, Snow Dawkins registered as a UEA Colonial citizen, along with her assistant, Jill Saito. Once registered, she was released from her bonds and made a stunning call for colonization that has been heard around the globe.”
I felt a shiver race through my spine as I saw the impact of my words.
“The response has been enormous. Registration centers around the globe are seeing lines around the block, not just from morphics, but from humans that have heard her message of universal equality and the promise of a fresh start. Chancellor Rusch called for calm after her statement, saying, “I have stated from the beginning that the best chance for the morphics lies out amongst the stars.”
“His office has come under criticism for his response to the world wide protests of the Farthest Star Act, and this has only continued as one of the morphic community’s leading citizens quantified the rage of the community and the hope for a brighter dawn apart from a world that has rejected them. There are many that are insisting that she be appointed as the lead coordinator of the morphic relocation."
“Rusch responded that while he could have done without the rhetoric, he is eager to work with the burgeoning colonies as they begin their relocation off world."
“In other news, there has been outcry from our allies. Sources close to the government indicate that both the Mendians and the Corvaldians are both incensed by the removal of Snow Dawkins from her ambassadorial post, following passage of the Farthest Star Act. Etrana, Corvalidan ambassador to earth had this to say, from aboard the Danube.
“Most dim! Not shiny. Snow Dawkins is gleaming as ambassador, radiant! UEA must restore. Yes! Yes?”
It seems there is mounting pressure on the Hague for action, as the world steps back from the brink. These final months of Rusch’s chancellery may prove to be the most shaping of his legacy.
A programming note: we hope you will join us tonight for an in-depth investigation, The World of the Transgenic. These shadowy groups of morphics have only emerged in the last ten years; as we have grown to a greater understanding of the Mendian bio-technology, these two stage morphics are unique in a world of difference and generally come from insular, tight knit communities known simply as collectives. Access the program, available 8 pm tonight from your local streaming service.
“I’m gonna have to watch that,” Harper said, slouched on the couch in our quarters watching the broadcast.
“It’s probably all outdated intel anyway,” I said sourly, still feeling bitter about what I had to do.
“Yeah but the only bad intel is the intel you don’t have. Even the bullshit normally tells you something,” he said. He had a point.
“So, what do you think our chances are?” Pushing back towards the issue that loomed large before us.
“Never been one to quote numbers when fate has the dice, but I do think that you at least have a shot. Doubt they’ll ever let you near the Mendians or Corvaldians again as ambassador though,” Harper replied, in his calm gentle manner. The way he just meandered through conversations was disarming, which may have been the entire point.
“I made a deal. I kept my word and I expect Rusch to keep his,” I shot back testily, and Harper just grinned.
He straightened, suddenly taking on the full air and importance of his rank. His eyes met mine and I saw all at once, the authority he normally kept hidden. “Yeah, because politicians always keep their word. Snow, you are lucky a “rogue shooter” didn’t make an example out of you after that. You still think you are working on a level playing field, you best get over that idea real quick if you ever want to lead a colony.”
The reality and the danger of the situation hit me like a stone. “You have a point.”
He softened at my words, resuming again his easy façade. “Still, colonial coordinator, that should keep you busy.”
Harper passed a tablet over to Jill.
“What’s this?” she replied, looking at it.
“Schematics on one of the forgotten programs of the UEA,” Harper replied, cryptically.
I hopped over and Jill showed me the schematic on the tablet’s screen. “What’s a Gemini Class ship?”
“An incomplete prototype. You want a history lesson?” Harper said casually.
“I got the idea the other day looking for a ship for our new bird friends,” Harper continued.
“Do you know that each of the four boneyards the UEA uses has a name?” he asked, weaving his story instead of coming directly to the point.
“What do you mean?” I replied, curious.
“Boneyards Zeus, Poseidon, Demeter and Hestia. Each named for one of these old colony ships that never were completed,” Harper replied, I perked up my ears listening intently.
“Boss, these schematics are dated back to 2032. These are from the reconstruction period!” Jill said, shocked.
“Bingo. These were to be the recipients of the cleared mark one- near light drive prototypes. That’s if the Far Horizon Project didn’t mysteriously boom in space.”
“The Far Horizon? I learned about that in middle school! In the early days following the third world war, the then UESA, United Earth Space Agency launched the first near light drive prototype probe, called the Far Horizion, for the edge of our solar system. As it crossed into the Ort Cloud, some form of external detonation was registered and the ship was lost. It was considered to be one of the great mysteries and the founding event towards Earth Central Command,” I replied, reciting from memory
“Someone was a real nerd in school,” Harper shot back, cutting me off from my victory.
I shot him a sour look.
"The broken hull of the probe is mounted in front of Jerusalem Fleet Academy." My tone was almost a growl.
"Yeah, but you just had to go and tell us all," he coaxed, his grin growing bigger.
"It was for Jill's ben
efit," My tone grew more clipped, as he held up his hands.
“Um... I went to school too, Boss,” Jill chided.
I huffed in annoyance, and stomped my front hind paws.
“Hey there, you can cancel general quarters, I was just making an observation,” he said jovially.
“You were being an asshole,” I replied, and he grinned.
“Maybe. Just call it as I see it. Anyway. Those ships have been freezing in space for years, but with a little upgrading, maybe park a maintenance ship or two out there, and you might have something,” he said.
“This could actually work,” I said, as I moved near to Jill, looking over the blueprints.
“If you can, get them space worthy. Still, they weren’t designed for Gates. That could get interesting. Remember, the Gen 1s and Gen 2s all had to be retrofitted to handle the stress,” Harper said, and I saw my opening.
“Now who's being the nerd?” I shot back his own insult.
“Guilty,” Harper answered, and grinned.
Chapter 17
My post had not been restored and I knew; aside from my freedom, I had been screwed. The morphic leaders remained confined, and in spite of objections from both the Corvaldians and the Mendians, the Hague stood firm in its refusal to address the matter of a designated representative.
I had taken up residence on the Zulfiqar, which had been towed into orbit. I was overseeing the installation of her engines and the activation of her core systems, just as I would soon be doing on the Gemini Class ships. I had four colonies to plan, and we had to get moving.
We may have had two years, but I doubted the patience of the Hague would last that long. Jill appeared, walking through the open door of my quarters. We were still working on getting the electronic door systems online so for the moment, it was always open.
“God Boss, this is still a mess,” Jill said. I had been here almost a week, with little evidence of real progress.
“Actually, things are right on schedule,” I replied, my tone defensive.
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