Colony, page 43
Evelyn opened her eyes. “Is he gone?” she whispered.
Surprised, Bahjat stared down at her. “Yes,” she said.
“We’ve got to get away from him,” Evelyn said in a harsh whisper. She propped herself up on one elbow.
“But, how?” Bahjat asked. “The airlock hatch is shut and it will not open. We can’t get a radio message back to the rest of the colony.”
Evelyn sat up, squinting with the pain of her effort. “David... he’s sealed us in here, hasn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Then we’ve got to get to him—before Hamoud finds him and kills him. David’s our only hope....”
“No,” Bahjat said, her voice hardening. “We will stay here.”
“So that you can threaten to kill me if David doesn’t surrender to you?”
“Exactly.”
Evelyn started to laugh, but it ended in a cough. Rasping, she said, “It’s not me whom Hamoud will threaten to kill. It’s you.”
Bahjat shook her head slowly.
“Believe me,” Evelyn said, “he’s already done it. He threatened to slice you into pieces.... That’s why David told him where he was hiding.”
“You’re lying,” Bahjat said.
“Who would David care about more—me or you?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
Evelyn struggled to her feet. Watching her, Bahjat slipped her hand down to the butt of her pistol.
“You’re such a bloody fool!” Evelyn said, swaying slightly as she stood. “David loves you. And Hamoud is better off dead.”
“You would like to destroy the PRU, wouldn’t you?” Bahjat countered. “That would be the biggest news story you could imagine.”
“Don’t be silly. You’ve already destroyed yourselves. When you were a bunch of romantic silly rebels popping up here and there, no one cared enough to swat you down. But now you’ve terrified the whole world, and the world will crush you. You’ve become too strong, too successful.”
“Have we?”
“Of course. It was you—Scheherazade and Hamoud and Leo—who forced El Libertador into the arms of the World Government. Can’t you see that? For every action of yours there’s been a reaction, equal in force and opposite in direction.”
“But we have Island One.”
“Not for long, you don’t. David’s taking it away from you. He’ll beat Hamoud out there, you know. Why do you think he’s stayed out there and waited for us to come to him? If he can beat Leo, he’ll easily beat Hamoud.”
Bahjat’s eyes flared. Then she dashed for the door in two long, low-gravity, cat-like leaps.
She fired her pistol up into the air. The roar echoed off the pod’s curving walls and the tangled jungle of equipment below them.
“Hamoud!” Bahjat yelled in Arabic. “Come back! Come back!”
Evelyn stared out the window. Sure enough, the dark, stocky figure of Hamoud appeared from behind a metal cylinder. He certainly didn’t go far, she thought.
“Come back!” Bahjat called to him. “Quickly!”
“You fool,” Evelyn said to her. “He’ll kill the two of us to get what he wants.”
Turning back toward her, Bahjat said, “Hamoud is a fanatic, yes. But he would never hurt me. He loves me.”
“Yes, of course,” Evelyn snapped. “He loves you so much that he murdered your architect for you.”
Bahjat’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
“He wouldn’t hurt you? He murdered your lover. He told me so. He boasted about it one night in Naples when he was so drunk that he vomited in bed. Your father may have ordered the killing, but Hamoud set up the helicopter explosion. It was his doing.”
“You’re lying.” Bahjat’s voice was an ice-cold knife blade.
“Ask him. He even arranged it so that you would see it happen. Ask him.”
Bahjat turned and saw Hamoud working his way cautiously along the catwalk, heading back toward them. She glanced back at Evelyn and for a split-second her hand tightened on the pistol she was holding.
“I don’t believe you,” she hissed at Evelyn. But she could see in the expression of the Englishwoman’s face that it was the truth. That is Hamoud’s way, she knew. He destroys whatever stands in his way and takes pleasure in it.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a blur of movement. Turning, she saw David swooping through midair, dropping in slow motion from the top of a maze of pipes to the catwalk, landing on the balls of his feet behind Hamoud.
Leo’s assault rifle was in David’s hands as he called out, “Tiger! Turn around!”
Hamoud spun to face him, gun in hand, and froze. For a timeless instant they faced each other, perhaps twenty meters apart.
“Bahjat!” Hamoud called, his voice a strained snarl. “Bring the English to the door and hold your gun to her head.”
Bahjat stood at the doorway. She could see only Hamoud’s back and, beyond him, David’s grim, tight-lipped face.
“It won’t do any good,” David said. “I told you that you were going to die, and I meant it.”
“She will die, too,” Hamoud countered. “Both of them. You can’t shoot me without my killing you, too. And then they will both die of the disease that you gave them.”
Evelyn had come to the door. Bahjat had her gun up in the air, where David could clearly see it.
“Put your rifle down,” Hamoud ordered, “or we will all die—the Englishwoman and Bahjat, as well. And you will have killed them.”
Bahjat couldn’t see the expression on Hamoud’s face, but she heard the triumph in his voice. David looked at her, his eyes questioning, pleading with her. Then he lowered his rifle and let it drop to the steel flooring.
Hamoud laughed and straightened his arm, pointing his gun precisely at David’s head.
Bahjat fired four times before she realized she had pulled the trigger. Hamoud’s body jerked, danced like an insane puppet, hit the railing, and collapsed in a blood-spattered heap.
~~~
... and now the news.
World Government authorities have still not released details of the abortive attempt by the Peoples’ Revolutionary Underground to seize the Island One space colony.
Other than reporting that casualties were “light,” and that none of the World Government or other dignitaries who were visiting the colony have been hurt or killed, no information about the incident has been forthcoming.
The Island One Corporation has maintained a similar silence on the matter, other than to report that a “general uprising” among the colony's residents overcame the handful of terrorists who had tried to seize Island One.
Microwave energy from the Solar Power Satellites was restored to full power earlier today, ending the crisis that virtually paralyzed much of Europe and North America and caused at least seven thousand deaths over a forty-eight-hour span.
World Government Acting Director Kowie Boweto and the revolutionary leader El Libertador were unhurt and plan to continue their negotiations aboard the space colony—
—Evening news broadcast, International News Syndicate, 10 December 2028
~~~
FORTY-THREE
So this is how politics works, David thought.
He was sitting at a small round table, representing the host—Island One—while Dr. Cobb recuperated from his dose of the respiratory infection David had carried. On David’s right sat Kowie Boweto, on his left, El Libertador. Jamil al-Hashimi was the fourth man at the table, sitting opposite David.
Boweto spread his big hands. “My staff has gone over the problem several times in the past week, since we’ve been here. Our position has not been rigid.”
Villanova smiled a calculated, gray-eyed smile. “But not quite as flexible as my people would like.”
“We are granting local autonomy.”
“In return for allegiance to the World Government.”
“That seems only fair,” said Boweto.
“Only if local autonomy includes the power to make necessary adjustments in the local economy.”
“But you can’t tinker with the economy of one nation without disrupting the economy of your neighbors and the rest of the world. The next thing you’ll demand is a return to local currencies.”
Villanova raised his hands in protest. “No, no... the World currency is perfectly suitable. Your monetary policies have been admirable, for the most part.”
“For the most part,” Boweto echoed in a frowning mumble.
“Gentlemen,” David interrupted, “as your host, I must remind you that your conference is due to end today, and the world expects a communique of some sort from you. Perhaps you should emphasize the things you’ve agreed on and continue this dialogue at future meetings.”
Boweto grumbled something, but Villanova chuckled. “Out of the mouths of babes,” he said.
“What have we agreed upon?” al-Hashimi asked rhetorically.
David answered, ticking off on his fingers, “First, there will be a general amnesty, worldwide, for all members of the Peoples’ Revolutionary Underground... no further prosecution of them, anywhere.”
“But any future guerrilla activities from this date onward will be stamped out without mercy,” Boweto added.
“Agreed,” said El Libertador. “The time for fighting is ended—if we can achieve justice without force.”
Before they could start arguing again, David went on: “Two: Argentina, Chile, and South Africa will rejoin the World Government. And three,” he added quickly, “the World Government will restructure its Legislature and regional structure in a way to give more local autonomy to the member nations.”
“The details must still be ironed out,” Villanova said. Boweto nodded.
“Fourth,” David continued, “all clandestine support of the PRU by private agencies”—they all stared at al-Hashimi—”will immediately cease. Future support to terrorists will be regarded as an act of terrorism in and of itself, and will be treated as such.”
“Agreed.” Al-Hashimi sighed.
“I would like to add a final point,” David said, “one that hasn’t been brought up in your discussions, but one that we here in Island One feel is vitally important.”
They turned toward him.
“Dr. Cobb has suggested that we begin to turn as much of Island One’s profit as possible into new space communities, which will move outward through the Solar System to develop new raw materials, natural resources, and space industries. Our preliminary calculations have shown that for an investment of seventy-five percent of our incoming profit, we could return to Earth something on the order of a fifty-billion-dollar-per-year increase in Gross Global Product.”
“Seventy-five percent of the profits!” al-Hashimi gasped.
Nodding, David said, “We will be able to speed up production of Solar Power Satellites, to beam energy to the Southern Hemisphere nations, as well as construct new space communities. Our aim is to bring the riches of the entire Solar System to all of the Earth’s people.”
“But the Board will never agree to investing so much of their profits.”
“They will have to agree,” David said, “or Island One will declare itself an independent nation and apply to the World Government for membership. Just the way the lunar settlers did at Selene.”
Al-Hashimi half-rose from his seat, then sat down again, his face a bitter mask of displeasure. “This is blackmail.”
David smiled at him. “The Board will still be making a good profit from Island One. But the people of Island One want more than profit. Our objective is to make our fellow human beings on Earth as rich—and secure—as we are.”
“That is Cobb’s objective,” al-Hashimi snapped. “The people of the colony don’t even know about this yet.”
“But they will soon,” David countered. “How do you think they’ll vote on the question?”
Al-Hashimi didn’t answer.
El Libertador broke in. “As you said, my young friend, we must bring this conference to an end. I think we have accomplished much, although much remains to be done.”
Boweto got to his feet and extended a hand to Villanova. “I suppose you’ll have to become a member of our Executive Council,” he said.
Taking the African’s hand, El Libertador smiled ruefully. “Do you think there is any way I can quietly disappear? I really don’t like politics.”
Boweto grinned back. “Not likely. You’re in politics for life, Colonel, whether you like it or not. You’ll probably take my Chairman’s seat away from me, sooner or later.”
Villanova looked aghast. “I wouldn’t dream of it!”
“No,” Boweto said, “but your supporters will. And in the end, you will do what must be done.”
Sagging back in his chair, El Libertador ran a hand through his iron-gray hair. “Then let us hope at least that we can disagree with each other in peace.”
Boweto nodded. “In peace,” he repeated.
David fled the small, private conference chamber gladly and hurried down to Dr. Cobb’s office, which he had made his own headquarters while the old man was hospitalized.
He avoided the inner observation chamber. Cobb could spend all day in his all-seeing insect’s eye, but not David. He simply wanted to finish the business at hand and get outdoors, away from offices and reports and politics. He knew how El Libertador felt. Will I be tied to this for the rest of my life, too? he wondered.
Evelyn was in the outer office waiting for him, sitting on one of the low-slung couches in the quiet, warmly carpeted room.
He had expected her. “It’s finished,” David said, letting the door click shut behind him. “The conference is over. They haven’t really agreed to very much—except to put an end to the violence.”
“It’s a good beginning,” she said.
“Maybe it’s enough,” he said as he sat on the couch beside her. “Maybe...”
Evelyn was wearing a frock of Island One silk, a shimmering sea-green dress that brought out her natural coloring. Already the lines and tensions of the past months were easing out of her face.
She smiled at David, but then her reporter’s curiosity took command. “Will they be releasing some kind of statement for the media, do you think?”
“They plan to. But if you want, I’m sure I can get you private interviews with Boweto and El Libertador before they leave.”
“If I want to!”
“You’re in a good position, you know,” David told her. “You have the only firsthand experience of the PRU’s takeover here.”
Her face clouded over momentarily. “There’s not going to be any legal trouble about me being with the PRU, is there?”
“None at all,” he answered. “Libertador got the World Government to agree to a general amnesty.”
“That is news! If I weren’t blacklisted....”
“You’re not blacklisted in Island One. You can file your story from here. Every news desk on Earth will pick it up. You’ll be very famous.”
Clasping her hands together, “My God, David, that’s fantastic!”
“And your reports on the PRU and the conference here will break the blacklist, anyway. But, why bother? Why don’t you stay here in Island One?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I can’t.”
“Cobb only sent you away so that I’d go chasing after you,” David explained. “He won’t...”
“But while you were chasing after me, you found Scheherazade.”
He hesitated. Then, “Yes, I did.”
“And you’re in love with her.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t be,” David admitted, “but I am.”
Evelyn was trying to control her face, but not quite succeeding. David felt his own insides wrench as he watched her.
“Island One is a big place,” he said. “There’s no reason why you can’t stay here if...”
“Yes, there is,” she interrupted quietly. “For me there is a reason. This colony isn’t big enough for all of us, I’m afraid.”
David didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault—not anyone’s fault.” She forced herself to brighten. “Besides, I don’t think I’d ever feel comfortable in a world that’s inside-out. I want to see a proper sky over my head, and a real horizon.”
He nodded mutely.
“You don’t suppose,” Evelyn asked, “that you could arrange for me to fly back to Messina on the same shuttle that the politicians are taking? Could that be done?”
He grinned at her. “I’ll see.”
They chatted for a few moments more, but Evelyn cut the conversation short. David felt grateful. She got to her feet and he stood and walked her to the office door. For an awkward moment he didn’t know what to do. Should he shake hands, embrace her, avoid contact altogether? She settled it by reaching up and pecking at his lips.
“Good-bye, David.”
“Good-bye,” he echoed.
She left, dry-eyed, striding strongly down the corridor, never glancing back at him. David stood at the door and watched her for several moments.
The insistent buzzing of the phone finally pulled him back from the door. He flopped on a couch and touched the phone console’s ON button. A life-sized wall screen lit up and Dr. Cobb’s face glared out from his hospital bed.
“What’s this bull-dingy about handing out seventy-five percent of the corporation’s profits to build new space communities?”
David had thought he’d be immune to surprise, but the old man had fooled him again. “How did you... that was supposed to be a private conference!”
Cobb chuckled at him. “Nothing’s private from me, son. Now, where do you get off telling them that it was my idea?”
“But it was,” David said. “I just put the numbers to it.”
“Seventy-five percent of our profits?”
“That’s what it’ll take to do the job in a reasonable time.”
“Reasonable? That’s backbreaking! Wait ’til Garrison and the rest of the Board hear about it.”
