“It was.” Doi walked on into the glass lounge. It was a bubble sticking out from the side of the Senate Hall, completely transparent from within, glossy black to anyone outside trying to look in, and protected by force fields should any sniper want to test their ability. She flopped down on one of the broad sofas, and let out a long breath of relief.
“You want something?” Patricia asked, walking over to an antique teak cocktail cabinet.
“Want, yes. Having, no. Give me a fruit juice. It’s going to be a long day.”
Patricia opened the door and took a can of orange and triffenberry from the shelf. The web of thin silver lines around her eyes were pulsing as her virtual vision clogged up with polling data. There were certain indicators she could always rely on, which she scanned with her usual efficiency. “The Hill-Collins unisphere poll gives you a seventy-two percent personal approval rating,” she said as the results streamed in. The can frosted over as she pulled the tab. “Fifty-three percent are still worried about the Primes—that’s down four from yesterday. Eighty-eight percent approve of you forming the navy. Stock market is up; analysts are predicting sharp increase in government spending to build the navy, which is correct. The finance sector is jittery about taxes to pay for it all. On balance, it’s favorable. Second term’s in the bag.”
“Not a chance,” Elaine said, taking the can from Patricia. “There’s a long way to go. And what happens if the Primes do invade?”
Patricia snorted. “Give me a break. I’ve been researching this. Populations flock to support their leadership in times of war. Historical fact. It’s after the war you’ve got to worry about. Churchill, Bush, Dolven, they all got dumped right after their victories.”
“I was always nervous about backing the Starflight Agency so publicly even if it was the price of getting Sheldon’s support. But by God it paid off today.” She drank some of the juice.
“Don’t bring God into this,” Patricia said quickly. “Too many voters are atheists these days.”
The President gave her a disapproving look. “You were always in favor of the Agency and its progression. Do you think there’s going to be a war?”
“I was in favor of the Agency for the options it gave us.”
“Do you think there’s going to be a war?”
“Honestly? I don’t know, Elaine. I can handle the Senate and the media for you. But this… it’s way out of my field. All I know is that finding the Primes are building a giant wormhole has frightened the bejesus out of half our tactical analysts. Did you see Leopoldovich’s report? There’s no logical reason for them to build something on that kind of scale; therefore their motives are unknown. That’s not good news, because all we know about them is what Bose told us. We have to assume the worst. Whoever put that barrier up, it’s starting to look like they had good reason.”
Elaine Doi let herself relax into the deep cushioning. “That never made sense right from the start. Every expert we have claims the effort which went into building the barrier was colossal; yet it gets switched off the minute we go sniffing around.”
“I told you, if you’re asking me, you’re asking the wrong person. Nobody has come up with a reason; all we’ve got is a bunch of half-assed theories and crank conspiracies like Johansson’s; even the SI is at a loss, or claims it is.”
“Claims?”
“You know I never trust it.”
“You’re a xenophobe.”
Patricia shrugged. “Somebody has to be.”
“All right,” Elaine said. “We don’t know why, but we do know we’re in a possible war situation—”
“That’s another word I’d like you not to use, please. War has too much historical baggage attached. Conflict, or the Prime situation, are preferable.”
“You’re developing a nasty habit yourself, there. People like some natural traits.”
“Traits I can manage, prohibited words I can’t.”
Elaine ran a hand through her hair, a gesture she always reverted to when she was irritated—as Patricia always pointed out. “All right, I’ll mind my language.”
“Thank you.”
“There’s something that Leopoldovich and everyone else seems to be avoiding.”
“What’s that?”
“The High Angel. I know siting Base One there was part of the Agency start-up deal, but if there is a possibility of conflict, is it going to hang around?”
“Actually, someone on Leopoldovich’s team did analyze that, it’s in one of the appendices. It has always assured us it will give notice before it leaves, so transferring Base One construction personnel to Kerensk won’t be a problem. They can still get to the assembly platforms through the wormhole; using High Angel as a dormitory was a political move to bring Chairwoman Gall on our side, and through her the African caucus. Physically, it’s nonessential. There’s also a proposal from Columbia’s staff on using it as our species’ lifeboat.”
“What?”
Patricia shrugged. “Basically, if it looks like we’re losing, we put as much of our culture and genetic template as possible on board, as well as a few million living humans, and ask the High Angel to take the survivors to a less hostile part of the universe. We’re pretty sure it has a transgalactic flight capability.”
“My God, you’re serious.”
“Columbia’s security office was, yes. The President would be classed as an essential component of the emergency evacuation. You’d be going.”
“No, I goddamn wouldn’t; and I want you personally to make very certain that this lunatic idea is never leaked to the media. They’d crucify us if they knew we were planning to escape.”
“Very well, I’ll see to it.”
Elaine let out a long breath. “You really do read all the appendices, don’t you?”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“Okay, then. What’s next?”
“Meeting with Thompson Burnelli and Crispin Goldreich. You’ve got to thrash out the navy’s first budgetary presentation for the Senate. Did you see the request from Kime?”
“Yes. I thought fantasy had gone out of style! Five more scoutships, twenty new ships with full attack capability, a Commonwealth-wide wormhole detection system, bringing that Natasha Kersley’s Directorate up to full active status, incorporating a dozen more government science departments. We’re looking at a percentage point increase on taxes. I can just see how the planetary governments will respond to that.”
“It might have had Kime’s name on it, but the request was drafted by the Sheldons and Halgarths. They’re already working on steering it through the Senate. With the Intersolar Dynasties and the Grand Families cooperating, it’ll sail through. The level of fallout dropping on you will be minimal.”
“I suppose so. Is the meeting here?”
“Yes. But we’re due home for lunch.”
“Good.” Elaine looked out through the lounge’s clear curving wall at Washington’s old Capitol building. The Commonwealth Senate Hall had been built here, and paid for out of UFN taxes by commissioners keen to keep Earth at the center of Commonwealth politics; but the Presidential Palace was on New Rio, as a gesture to the new worlds, along with a host of Directorates and departments that were spread out among phase one space in accordance with the Commonwealth policy of inclusion. She always felt more secure in the New Rio Palace, like any animal in its home territory.
As she looked out at the rain sweeping across the old city her virtual vision was displaying a simple star map. New Rio was on the other side of Earth from the Dyson Pair, over a thousand light-years away from the Primes. That also was a comfort.
…
Hoshe parked out on Fairfax, and walked a block back down Achaia. It was midday, and the heat had just about cleared every other pedestrian off the sidewalk. Hoshe took his jacket off as he walked, dabbing at the perspiration on his brow. Achaia was one of those narrow streets in the city grid that looked like it ran on forever, with the cracked concrete’s heat shimmer obscuring the far end as it slipped into the commercial district. The housing on both sides was mainly three-story apartment blocks, fronted by small yards that were filled with overgrown ornamental bushes and trees that had nearly reached roof level. Air-conditioning units hummed constantly above all the narrow balconies where their fins radiated away the excess heat. Cars came and went in front of him, turning out of ramps that led down to underground garages.