The Sails of Tau Ceti (28 page)

Despite the studied ordinariness of the embassy, one installation set it apart from its surroundings. The Phelan had built a large spherical structure on the roof of their tower where it loomed over the penthouse that served as their living quarters. Known colloquially as “The Egg,” the sphere was the one place on Earth where they could speak freely with a reasonable assurance of not being overheard.

Once each week the five conspirators shut themselves inside The Egg, activated six concentric layers of electromagnetic shielding, and discussed their progress toward completing the master plan.

“How go your lobbying efforts?” Faslorn asked Raalwin midway through the weekly conference.

The Phelan political scientist made a gesture Tory had yet to learn. “I believe we have been successful. Councilor Norris has confided to me that the council will probably offer us the Australian district for our colony.”

“Is that the wisest choice?” Neirton asked. “Would not the Antarctic site be more suitable to our needs?”

“Your advice, Tory?”

“I recommend against it. The climate is far more severe.”

“Climates can be modified. A suitably positioned light sail could provide Antarctica with an optimum environment within a few decades.”

“Not without melting the ice caps and raising sea level all over the world!” Tory said.

“There would be disruptions, certainly. The overall result would be a net gain for both our species. In exchange for a relatively narrow strip of marginal farmland on the edges of the continents, we would make the south pole the breadbasket of this world.”

“You forget that most Earth cities are located in those coastal strips.”

“I agree,” Faslorn said. “Even a hint that we plan to modify the Earth’s climate would wreck our cause. There will be no more such talk.”

“But the Third Fleet will need that land,” Raalwin persisted. “The southern continent is ice bound and largely sterile. Introducing our crops into such soil is far easier than competing with the terrestrial organisms that infest the rest of the planet.”

“For the same reason, there will be no talk of introducing our crops into the bare soil. We will rely on sealed domes to grow our food. The humans must be given plenty of time to get used to the idea of Phelan organisms loose in their biosphere.”

Raalwin was obviously not convinced, but averred to Faslorn’s authority.

“Are there any other objections to the Australian colony site? If not, let us move on. Tory, you have the last item on the agenda.”

She nodded and went on to recount what she had learned about the scientific conference looking into the mystery of the Tau Ceti nova.

“Do they suspect the nova was not a natural event, then?”

“How can they?” Maratel asked. “No, our arrival has merely caused renewed interest in the nova. It’s just another case of monkey curiosity.”

“Do you agree, Tory?”

“Sounds right.”

“Then we can safely ignore this conference.”

Faslorn’s gesture was sharply negative. “I think not. Remember that these scientists have a datum their predecessors lacked. They know Tau Ceti to be inhabited. If they can find no other explanation for our star’s destruction, might they not wonder if we are the cause?”

“So what do we do?”

“We follow Tory’s suggestion and sponsor this conference. We provide research grants to anyone who shows an interest in investigating the nova. That way we gain some control over events. If nothing else, an investigator is less likely to be suspicious of his benefactor than of a stranger. Faslorn turned to Tory. “You know these people. Will you set it up?”

“Gladly.”

“Very well. Is there anything else? If not, I declare this session adjourned. Raalwin, open the shields and transfer us back to external power.”

#

Boerk Hoffenzoller, first among equals, chief terrestrial delegate to the system council, and by a narrow plurality, the first councilor, stood with his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed out his office window. The window faced the manmade cliffs of Manhattan across a strip of green. The park that fronted council headquarters was a gathering place for lunchtime strollers. From Hoffenzoller’s vantage point the people sprawled on the grass or walking among the colorful beds of flowers all seemed diminutive dolls. Yet as powerless as they might appear individually, collectively they held the power of life and death.

They called it “The Will of the People.” He knew it for what it really was, a fickle, ravening beast. A politician might bask in the soft, purring embrace of public approval one moment, then find himself devoured in a carnivorous feeding frenzy of public outrage the next. Hoffenzoller had seen too many promising careers torn apart because of some trifling misstep. Yet, despite a lifetime spent studying the beast from which all real power flowed, he was no closer to understanding it than when he had been a young legislator from the Zunderdorp district of Amsterdam.

What, for instance, was the Will of the People with regard to the aliens? At the moment there seemed to be three basic opinions on the subject. A vocal minority strongly opposed allowing them to settle anywhere in the Solar System, let alone on Earth. The most extreme demanded that the Navy drive off the starship. A second group, equally passionate, lobbied strongly in favor of the alien request for sanctuary. Some of these came close to wetting themselves in their eagerness to gain access to Phelan technology.

Neither group particularly worried Boerk Hoffenzoller. After all, committed, passionate activists were a breed with which he had successfully dealt for decades. He understood them, and even more important, they were predictable. Their strengths were well matched, for a net sum of zero in the political equation.

The group he worried about was the largest by far. These were the people who professed no knowledge of, nor interest in, the aliens. The latest opinion polls showed fully 60% of the public unable to identify the word “Phelan” when asked, while another 25% knew who they were, but had no opinion regarding them. As usual, the masses were preoccupied with day-to-day living and too busy to worry about things that did not directly affect their lives.

The moment of danger would come when they decided that the Phelan had begun to affect them personally. The masses would stir themselves at the eleventh hour and fifty-ninth minute to demand why they had not been consulted. Posturing politicians would make thundering speeches demanding to know how things had gotten so far out of control, and a council investigation would be launched. This, too, was SOP — standard operating procedure. All that was required for political survival was to be on the side doing the investigating.

The danger lay in not knowing which side that was. Those who asked the questions and those who answered them would be determined solely by where the man and woman on the street came down with regard to the Phelan question. Would they buy the idealistic propaganda being pumped out by the Phelan embassy and demand a sanctuary for the noble refugees from the stars? Or would the raging monster of xenophobia be let loose in the land, devouring all that had ever said a kind word about the six limbed aliens?

Hoffenzoller noted that the political question had little to do with the facts. The fact was that the aliens were here to stay. The astronomers who tracked
Far Horizons
had been warning him for months that they had lost too much velocity to seek another star. At its current speed, the starship would take 10,000 years to cross the blackness to its next destination. Those who studied the reports sent back by the Starhopper Expedition estimated the starship would not support its passengers much more than another century. If they sought another star, the Phelan would be dead 99 centuries before they arrived.

So, whatever the outcome of the council vote to cede a tract of land to the aliens, the light sail would grow large in the night sky come late summer. The question was really
where
to settle them, not
whether
. How to tell that to the masses though?

The terrestrial media had lately been touting Mars or Luna as settlement sites. Not surprisingly, neither the Martian nor Lunarian governments were keen on the idea. Neither was Hoffenzoller. Not only would the cost of establishing a Phelan colony on either world be terrible, having the aliens settle somewhere other than Earth would give non-terrestrials the advantage in access to their technology. Boerk Hoffenzoller was the first councilor, but he was also the chief terrestrial delegate. He had learned forty years earlier which side his bread was buttered on.

No, for a variety of reasons, the Phelan must be given a home beneath the blue skies and fleecy clouds of Earth, but where? They themselves had provided a list of three possible sites. One was a tract midway between Alice Springs and Brisbane in Australia. Another was located in the Wilkes Basin of Antarctica, the third, and the al-Quatrun district in the southern Sahara Desert.

Hoffenzoller wondered how the aliens had chosen their colony sites. The Australian outback was the only one that was even marginally habitable. The other two would require nearly as great an effort as Mars or Luna. About the only common denominator was the total isolation of the three. Each was surrounded by millions of hectares of sparsely inhabited (or uninhabited) desert. Did 100,000 refugees require such vast tracts, or was there some factor at work of which he was unaware?

His reverie was cut off by the sudden sound of a chime. He turned away from the window in time to see his office door open to reveal Jesus de Pasqual, his minister for science.

“You’re late, Jess!”

“Sorry, First Councilor. I was delayed in data integration. The report was still coming off the printer.”

“Let’s have the recommendation.”

“Australia.”

Hoffenzoller sighed. “That’s just great. How am I going to explain to 300 million stiff necked Aussies that they have to share their continent with aliens?”

“That, sir,” de Pasqual said without any sign of regret, “is not my problem.”

“No, it’s mine. Why not another site?”

The science minister shook his head. “Too environmentally sensitive. If you give them the Wilkes Basin, half the councilors will be screaming about damage to the last true frontier on Earth. As for al-Quatrun, the Sahara reclamation project plans to turn that into farmland in another fifty years or so. The North Africans are counting on it.”

Hoffenzoller nodded. “And we need the North Africans to keep our coalition intact.”

“Whereas the Aussies are already in opposition…”

“You always were one to keep the important points in mind, Jess. Very well, Australia it is. When do we make the offer?”

“I propose to dangle it in front of them at next week’s regular negotiation session. We can raise our price at the same time.”

“What do you plan to ask for?”

“Some free samples as a token of good faith. Doctor Claridge says she witnessed some amazing medical procedures. Perhaps we can ask for those.”

The first councilor looked sourly at his science minister as he rubbed his stomach. “Do you think they have a cure for congenital heartburn?”

De Pasqual grinned. “It won’t hurt to ask.”

#

Praesert Sadibayan gazed at his aide and scowled. “I am unhappy with the quality of intelligence that has been coming out of the Phelan embassy, Ben.”

Ben Tallen scowled back. One good thing about being a synergist was that you did not have to take any crap off anyone. The worst Sadibayan could do was fire him, which meant that he would have another job — probably better paying — within twenty-four hours. Still, the boss had a point.

“I agree, but what the hell do you want me to do? Nobody in that damned place seems to know anything.”

“Someone does, but you handled her recruitment poorly.”

Tallen swallowed his anger, though his complexion reddened in response. The knowledge that Sadibayan was correct did nothing to soften his ire. He remembered the night he and Tory had spent in the environment tent on the side of a mountain. He had commented on the fact that she had matured since college. Yet, when she had returned from the starship, she had not looked a day older than when she had left (the result of two years in cold sleep). Subconsciously, he had thought of her as a kid, and had assumed she would do what he told her. As a result, he had lost the best opportunity to penetrate the Phelan ranks they would ever have.

“So what do you want me to do about it? She’s barely spoken to me these past two years.”

“Perhaps the time has come to try again.”

“How?”

“You might try apologizing for your behavior.”

“I did that last time. It didn’t help.”

“Perhaps if you mean it this time, it will. I know such things come hard to you, Ben, but sometimes in this life they are necessary.”

Tallen sighed. “I’ll apologize, but she’ll probably spit in my face.”

“Having observed her across the table for nearly two years now, I dare say that she will be civil. Besides, perhaps we can give you some bait for your hook.”

“Yes, sir. When should I make my approach?”

“The regularly scheduled meeting is tomorrow. Why not then?”

Tallen grew pensive, as though he was deep in thought or accessing his implant. After a few seconds, he smiled. “It’s worth a try!”

“It is worth far more than that,” Sadibayan warned. “We are getting down to the end of the negotiations. If we are to succeed, we need a better source of information. Unless you care to romance one of the Phelan, Victoria Bronson is our only hope.”

CHAPTER 22

The Headquarters Building of the System Council was a large airy pile of glass and steel constructed in the architectural style of the early twenty-second century. As such, Tory found it to be more than a little ugly. She was especially put off by its stark use of angles and overhanging upper tiers. Standing close to the building and looking up, one had the impression of a pyramid balanced on its point. It was easy for the mind to stray into thoughts of how well such a precarious structure would withstand an earthquake. In this one aspect, the building mirrored the organization that it housed. How well the council would withstand the discovery of the Phelan Third Fleet was also open to question.