Regan's Reach 2: Orbital Envy (11 page)

[Well I didn't expect this]

[Like I did!]

[So what are the options?]

[There are three as I see them. One, you could just give up. We switch you off, as in delete permanently . . . but just to be clear, you can completely forget that one because it
ain't
gonna happen!]

[So there are really only two options]

[Technically there are still three, it's just I'm not going to let you choose one]

[Uh-huh. So what are the other two?]

[Option two. I can rebuild that . . . bit. You know . . . the bit that's not there anymore. I salvage what can be saved of the left brain, although it might be best to remove it, replace all that with enhanced hardware and link up with the right brain which is intact. The new unit will house both of us, just like now, well, just like a few hours ago anyway and with a bit of luck that connection with the right brain will bring in all the raw emotion and creativity we both enjoy so much]

[So what's option three?]

[Option three is if all that fails, we both go on together like this, or . . . we both revisit option one]

[Really?]

[Really] . . . [Regan, before you decide anything, I need to show you something. You're going to think it's unfair, but it's important. We're going to Control]

And there, playing on the floor was Jared. Sat in front, in
her
seat was Jean. She looked comfortable cradling a coffee . . . The decision was obvious. Survive.

[God, I can't even cry]

[You will again Regan]

[Not out of that
left
eye]

Silence . . .

[What do they know Ham?]

[They don't know anything, only that there was a code red. They came without question. You can talk to them; in fact it might be good. I've been a bit evasive, Jean knows something's up but she's been good. And Leah's here too. I need to talk to her first. She saw everything Regan, and she got you in here, she's pretty shocked. I'll leave you to have a chat with them for a bit, you could lie if you need to. Tell them you've got high radiation readings or something which means you can't walk in there for a while. I'll talk to Leah and gather the things I need]

[You have everything? What about skin, skull, that sort of thing]

[You know the secret of success Regan? Prepare for opportunity when it comes]

[Uh . . . Huh]

She sensed he was gone, otherwise occupied. Turning her attention back to the two in control she considered how to approach things without alarming them. And of course there was the other practical matter.
How do I even do this, how do I talk?

* * *

". . . . Leah?"

Ham saw she was sitting now, on the edge of the bunk, arms pressed down beside her hips as if about to push herself up to stand. But she wasn't moving.

"Talk to me Leah, how are you feeling?"

"I'm getting there Ham, just shocked. I feel . . . empty, flat . . . what more can I say?"

"No one should have to see what you saw. You were magnificent in a terrible situation."

"You don't have to be kind Ham. I'm disappointed in myself really; I didn't handle things as well as I could have."

"Rubbish Leah, your first thought was to cover the injured. You had already won me over but with that action . . . Lets just say, you couldn't climb higher in my books."

"She's dead isn't she? I'm not blind, what I saw, no one could survive that." She wiped welling tears with her cuff, but retained control. "You can tell me Ham, don't spin me along. I'm not a child."

"You're no child to me, and I promise you I'll never string you along. I trust you Leah and that's a big call. I need your help but first we need to talk. What you hear I trust you to keep to yourself. Are you up to it?"

He could see her steeling herself."I don't let my friends down Ham."

"Nor me Leah. Ok, I'll explain the things you need to know first . . . then you can speak to Regan."

Ham could see her eyes widen, and then she crossed her arms tightly, rubbing them.

Goosebumps
he thought, and began to explain . . .

* * *

Moscow

The mood in the opulent room was buoyant. News of the attack on Regan Stein had swept the world quickly. All signs pointed to the Moon Graffiti activists as terrorist attackers, at least for now. Although there was no official word on her condition, information from eye witnesses, indicated serious impairment, if not fatal injuries.

Although this was a private meeting, President Andrei Sokolov and Prime Minister Vasily Popov nevertheless found it hard not to talk in obscure code, a career habit.

"So, we have sufficient distance?" Sokolov looked at his PM, eyebrows raised questioningly.

"There is no bridge that would bring them to us." Minister Popov smiled. "We can move on without concern of being overtaken.

"Make the call Vasily, A discussion sooner rather than later would be good. Clearly there is a vacuum that needs to be filled in this space." he laughed at his own joke.

"There are still concerns Andrei. No one knows where Stein is, and there has been no word on her actual condition as I have said. They will say there is no vacuum to be filled."

"Then we must act on this quickly Vasily, strike while there is hot iron. We know the truth. Call the bluff and demand Security Council to act in urgency." Sokolov stood; wringing his hands in anticipation, and began to pace the room.

"And what of the Americans Andrei, and the Chinese, can we work with them?"

"That is the beauty of this vasily," he giggled in excitement, unable to contain it any longer, and then shut off any comment with a stern look. "According to intelligence The Americans and Chinese have already space on the Hillary Step." He couldn't restrain himself and laughed again, clasping his hands and bending over in excitement as the implications of the timing hit him. "Don't you see? We can ask that as USA and China already have presence, in fact their own base in orbit, is it not logical that as the only other senior member of the Security Council, Russia is the obvious member to take on this oversight role of Hillary Station, on behalf of the world of course."

The PM smiled. "Of course Andrei, that makes perfect sense." He stood and raised his glass. Sokolov reached for his own, topped it to the brim and they toasted good providence.

* * *

Prime Minister Michael Tremblay of Canada sat uncomfortably listening to the disingenuous discussion, both sides clearly with other agenda's, both sides clearly in no mind to help the other. President Sokolov preferred to remain silent allowing his senior aide to do the talking, occasionally leaning across to whisper comments in his assistant's ear.
How good is his English really?
Tremblay knew his own presence was a token gesture, something to give the veneer of unity and openness to discussions. He looked across at the Chinese representatives likewise, mostly silent and revealing very little of what they followed or didn't.
Such a handy negotiation tactic,
Tremblay mused to himself,
to be able to pretend misunderstanding whenever it suits.
He smiled wryly and noted the increasing tension displayed on Sokolov's face, the calm, slightly smug reasonableness of President Johnston and the blank, give nothing away demeanor of the Chinese. The surprise in the room was Kevin Stein. Not just his presence which came as a shock but his own calm demeanor. And his legal counsel, Marcus Jackson, poker faced and confident.
Shouldn't these two be overawed? I would be . . . Shit, I am!

"Gentlemen," Stein gestured with his hands, opening them wide, a picture of reason among this insanity. "I fail to see anything to debate here. STEIN is a New Zealand company and Hillary Station is a privately owned entity of that company. We are not for sale and we intend to continue our work with the now thirty five nations on station. Further, over the last four years we have become the most experienced group operating in space. To suggest that any other party has the ability to usurp our position is, well, ridiculous. We are open to contributions but with respect Mr. Sokolov," He turned and nodded in deference to the stern faced leader, "You have nothing that we need to continue our work. We totally reject any notion that there is a need for a New Zealand company to surrender control to any other nation or company. Not under any circumstance."

The Russian leader whispered again to his aide.

"President Sokolov points out that there is no debate Mr. Stein. Your presence is a courtesy and purely for information purposes. The UN Security Council acts in the interest of all nations and as senior members we are here to discuss the best means of transition . . ." The aide halted, noting the raised hand of President Johnston.

"With respect sir," and Johnston nodded in Sokolov's direction, "and to you Andrei, nothing is decided. It seems to us STEIN is doing an excellent job in space development, and the United States is loathe to interfere in the workings of any private enterprise."

Sokolov's face turned like thunder and he stood. "We have agreement!" He glared at the US President.

"Andrei," Johnston appealed to him, "we had an understanding prior to the last meeting but events have transpired that make those earlier concerns moot. Surely you can see that. STEIN has offered to assist
all
our programs." He placed his hands palm down on the table as if bracing himself. It had a look of finality. "We will exercise our veto over any decision to interfere on Hillary Station, for the good all."

Sokolov, still standing, leant forward aggressively on the table as if he wanted to jump across and throttle the US President. He turned his head toward the Chinese Foreign Minister. The minister and his entourage looked back blankly, giving neither support nor anything away. Slowly Sokolov drew himself up to his full one point seven meter stature.

"Then there is nothing further to discuss." He turned and stalked from the room, more strut than stride.

His aide stood slowly looking after the departing figure. For a moment he appeared ready to speak, and then thought better of it. He quickly gathered his papers and followed Sokolov to the door.

Tremblay found he had been holding his breath and now let it out, almost in a whistle.

It was Marcus Jackson who spoke first.

"Hmm, that went well!"

The Russians, along with security made their way to the lifts. Tight lipped, Sokolov stewed quietly, furious but not surprised. Earlier exchanges with the American President had already shown him the ground had shifted. The Americans were comfortable now, if not completely happy with their Hillary Step. They had their own smug foothold in space and using that bridge they would begin to consolidate their position.
As for the Chinese, who knows the thinking of those people? They play a long game
.
This isn't over.

He entered the lift then raised his hand, stopping his entourage at the doors. Without any word of explanation he entered alone before pressing for his floor. The doors closed behind him. He waited until the lift began to move then hit the emergency button. They would panic he knew but a few minutes grace would be enough. Sokolov quickly reached for his mobile and dialed.

There were no introductions. "Are the dispatchers in place?"

"In place and ready Andrei . . ."

"It is as we expected . . . They will
not
leave us behind."

"Your instructions?"

"China Sea and Hillary."

There was a click. The call ended.

* * *

The China Sea

The sea appeared to boil as the massive nuclear sub neared the surface. Purpose built, not for speed or stealth this bulbous hull had an altogether different task, delivery of its deadly one time payload, all or nothing. Doors on the upper hull slid open, seawater spilling into the interior as the vessel continued to rise. Contiguous with this, smoke and steam could be seen billowing from the opening as the missile began its launch for freedom and death.

Five minutes later the huge missile was already passing through the upper atmosphere, its journey moonward. No communications were possible as disguise of its origin was essential. News broadcasts were already reporting the launch of a Chinese ASAT anti-satellite missile.

Whether it could or would reach its destination was immaterial. Its aims were more earth bound; those of fear, rumor, accusation and counteraccusation. The intention, purely destabilization and it would be well supported in that goal.

* * *

The STEIN Traveler

In deep space the Sphere appeared to hang, suspended from nothing. In truth it continued on the same path, going nowhere, coasting fast. Path and distance travelled were an irrelevance in the wider scheme of things, at warp speeds they could be back in no time. For the moment as they raced further and further into the black they were effectively parked. Attentions were elsewhere, there was an operation to perform.

Together they viewed the body as if from a distance. Regan found she had increasingly become quite detached from this form. Even when Ham performed the hemispherectomy she had felt it was someone else on the gurney, not her. Having determined that what remained of the left brain was severely compromised, that bone fragments, bleeding and clots rendered it non viable, Ham felt it best they start from scratch. The left brain would soon be gone.

He pointed out helpfully, that although the operation he was about to perform was most often performed on children, there existed much evidence that the right brain does recover and often with no significant effect on memory, personality or humor. [You'll still be able to wind me up mercilessly] he offered to encourage her.

They were both playing the game of denial. The same information available to Ham she could also access. She knew full well that a child's brain has more neuroplasticity, but what was the point of focusing on that?
What choice do I really have anyway?