★ The Council ★

  “Alright,” Harlow began, his tired eyes surveying the generals assembled before him. “I’m calling this meeting to order. You all know the rules, so I won’t bother repeating them. Victor, state the time and date please.”

  “Monday, January 20th, 2087, 08:02.”

  “Thank you. It’s a new year, we’re back from our break, and we're assembled here for the first briefing of 2087. My creativity ran out long ago, so Victor, say something inspirational.”

  Victor leaned back in his chair and looked at them with his smirk of a smile. “Happy new year, and welcome back, you godless heathens.”

  “Perfect,” Harlow replied. “Let’s get right into it. The first topic on our agenda is one of espionage. The Utopia colonies are kicking up trouble again; rumor has it they’ve even tried to insert a spy here.”

  He was met by rounds of stifled laughter from around the table, but his expression remained solemn.

  “I know some of you might find that amusing, but we need to take this seriously,” he continued. “Their leadership is still classified as ‘disputed,’ and last I checked, there were no less than a dozen local officials vying for control of the region. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve done it, and we’ve always thwarted them with relative ease, but for all we know they’ve learned from the past, and they won’t make the same mistakes again. After last year’s incident, we can’t be too careful. Now, General Moore, this is your time to shine. Find them.”

  “Understood. I assume I’ll be briefed on leads?” Moore asked as he crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair.

  “No, you won’t, because there aren’t any. We only received one report of suspicious activity, and it came from an anonymous tip to Headquarters back in December. After that, their source went quiet.”

  Moore frowned. “I didn’t realize they’d been sitting on it that long. Why wasn’t I notified immediately?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m not happy about that either. They marked it as a matter of ‘minimal concern,’ so it wasn’t addressed until after their holiday break, and since theirs lasts a week longer than ours does, we’re just now getting a flood of delayed briefings. But regardless, I expect you to assign this case to one of your best counterintelligence teams so they can piece together all relevant information, then find and remove the agent, if one exists.”

  “Absolutely, but we’ve already lost valuable time. If we go back that far there will be hundreds of hours of security footage, stacks of audio recordings, and thousands of documents. It’s unrealistic to expect us to go through all of it. What I might suggest instead is that we—”

  “That’s exactly how we’re going to do it,“ Harlow interrupted. “This is going to be a long, tedious process that will keep you very busy over the next few weeks, so you’d better get started as soon as possible. And maybe, just maybe, this project will keep you focused on productive pursuits rather than some of your more… recent activities.”

  General Moore’s expression darkened.

  “Are we clear?” Harlow asked, looking him directly in the eye.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. Moving on. General Thomas, I know you have a history of avoiding tough assignments, but I’ve got something that might actually be a challenge for you. The settlers at the Olympus Mons Terminal requested an envoy to moderate their border dispute—you know, the one stemming from their recent expansion project. They’ve been stalled for months, and this situation has the potential to turn ugly if things deteriorate further, so I’d like you to personally lead that team and handle all of their negotiations.”

  The woman with graying hair drawn into a tight bun cast a sideways glance in their direction. “Pardon the interruption, Sir, but do we really need a Council member on that? I know of several captains who need the experience and would jump at the opportunity.”

  “I appreciate your concern, General Miller, but unfortunately, I believe it’s necessary. We’ve tried sending officers there on diplomacy missions before, but it produced very little in the way of long-term progress. My hope is that if we send a general, they’ll realize we’re serious this time, and that concessions need to be made.”

  “But… isn’t that part of Mars dangerous?” Thomas replied in a voice that was as nondescript as his features. “There are sandstorms that block out natural light for days at a time, and I've heard reports of organized groups of raiders that will attack convoys on sight.”

  Harlow looked as if he was about to reply, but General Moore spoke first. “Every single one of those groups would skin me alive if given the chance, and I’ve still made several trips out there. What’s your excuse?”

  Thomas shrugged. “I know this may come as a bit of a shock to you, but some of us care if we live or die.”

  General Moore leaned forward, stared at him intently, and folded his hands on the table in front of him. “Then maybe you don’t deserve a seat on this Council.”

  “Moore!” Harlow shouted. “Don’t you dare ever question my Council appointments. And Thomas, prove that this rank isn’t wasted on you. You’re going.”

  “Yes, Sir,” General Thomas said, shrinking even lower in his chair.

  Harlow stared at them for a moment, then resumed speaking. “Now, if we’re done with insubordination, let’s proceed. Howard, how are things at the Academy, and what’s your impression of our incoming class?”

  Howard spent a few moments deep in thought. “As disappointing as ever, Sir,” he finally said. “The Academy might as well be a home for wayward delinquents with the quality of cadets we’ve had. The last few years have had such a dearth of talent, I fear for the future of the Corps.”

  The fidgety general appeared to be stifling a laugh at these words, and Howard cast a sharp glance in his direction. “Do you find that amusing?”

  “Yes. They’re not getting worse, Howard; you’re just getting old.”

  “Fitting, coming from one of my worst former students. Based on your performance in the classroom, I’m amazed you can stay in your seat for the duration of these briefings.”

  “Gentlemen, enough,” Harlow said. “Is it too much to ask that you remain professional for five minutes? And Howard, I’ve got a hard time believing that the newest Academy class is truly as bleak as you describe, especially since you’ve only had a few weeks to evaluate their performance. Are there really no standouts? None at all?”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “Other than my newest assistant, no. Even my combat tactics class is filled with abysmal little cretins. Might as well toss them. Toss the whole lot. Toss them right into space, if I had my way.”

  “Howard!”

  The sharp-featured man smirked in their direction. “Ignore him.”

  Harlow glanced at him with an expression that said he was losing his patience. “Do you have something to say, General Kimura?”

  “Oh, come on, Sir, I think we all wish the connection between his brain and his mouth had a few more stops along the way.”

  “Well, since you’re so comfortable speaking for the room, maybe you can speak for yourself too. How are Consortium relations going?”

  “Fine.”

  “You’ve got nothing further to report than that?”

  “Nothing’s happened this week.”

  “I don’t like that,” Harlow said. “Based on the number of Consortium files that have flown across my desk recently, there’s never ‘nothing happening.’ Next week I expect that if you have something to say, it’ll be something of substance. Same goes for you, Howard.” He scrutinized them for a second, then resumed his slow, methodical pacing. “Now, moving on to everyone’s favorite topic: mining relations. Valencia, since you’re in such a hurry to talk, what’s the latest?”

  “Well, Sir, the Titanium venture’s still ongoing,” General Valencia replied in a voice that contained as much frantic energy as his nervous fidgeting. “It’s received strong opposition from the locals, but it’s set to proceed as scheduled.”

  “I take it the colonists aren’t leaving?”

  “No.”

  “And they’ve been offered compensation?”

  “Many times.”

  “Are there any terms they’d accept?”

  “Doubtful. There’s only one thing they want, and that’s to stay on the land that was lawfully ceded to them. Some of the newer groups of settlers might take the buyout, but not this one. They don't respond to escalate to escalation or intimidation tactics. The colonists out there are an especially tough lot; they’re willing to die fighting for their land, right down to the last one of them. Chief Warner’s the main voice of opposition; he’s been behind most of the resistance within the past year or so.”

  “Chief Warner? I thought he was taken into custody after he blew up an abandoned mining outpost.”

  “That was the plan, but he’s dodged every attempt they’ve made. He’s an expert at evading arrest, and local authorities have been extremely uncooperative. No matter how hard the federation tries, they just can’t seem to flush him out of that God-forsaken minefield he’s fighting so hard to defend. And it’s not just them, either—some of the other colonies put a bounty on him, and I won’t even discuss what methods the mining companies proposed. I swear, the man’s willed himself into immortality through pure spite.”

  Up in the gallery, West shifted at these words. “Sounds like he’d get along with my Gran,” he whispered.

  “What?” Evelyn hissed.

  “Nothing.”

  “Well, Valencia,” Harlow continued, “I assume we can expect more trouble from Warner if the Titanium venture proceeds?”

  “Without a doubt. The mining expeditions are expanding rapidly, and they keep encroaching on the colonies.”

  Harlow sighed. “Which means more messes for us to clean up, and more uprisings to put down.”

  “I’m afraid so, but I’m confident we’ve got a decent handle on the situation.”

  “I’m sure we do, but I’m worried this is a false calm that could be dangerously close to spiraling out of control. It seems I need to schedule another meeting between myself, President Benjamin, and the board of directors, and remind them that our mission is one of peacekeeping and exploration, not serving as private enforcers for a mining company. Oh, and on a related note, General Kimura—I assume the Consortium’s already been to the mining site and conducted whatever surveys they need before digging starts?”

  All he received in reply was a shrug.

  “Kimura!”

  “Yes—yes Sir, they have.”

  “Good. Got anything else for me, Valencia?”

  “Not this week.”

  Harlow nodded. “Alright, then. Moving on. Diaz, what’s new?”

  “I was contacted by the Peace Force this week,” she said. “They've invited us to participate in a joint venture involving large-scale weapons testing on Ceres.”

  “Weapons testing? On Ceres? We’ve got a whole asteroid field designated for that. Why are they going there?”

  “The reason I was given is that they want to gauge the effects of the new large-scale ordnance they’re developing on stable environments.”

  “I see. I assume they’ve asked us to provide transportation and security?”

  “Yes, and they’re also requesting permission to blow up one of our decommissioned shuttles.”

  Harlow sighed. “I hope they’ve requested permission to pay for it, given that bloated budget of theirs.”

  “I’ve been assured by three different officers that the funding is in order.”

  “Well, if their history is anything to go by, that’s code for ‘severe accounting errors,’ so we should triple check that before signing off on it.”

  “Agreed, Sir.”

  He nodded. “And now that the word ‘budget’ has been mentioned, it’s embedded itself in my mind, and I won’t be able to breathe easy until it’s gone, so let’s talk about that. Wallace, how’s our financial situation looking?”

  “Two words: never enough. But I assume you want to hear more than that, so I’ll keep talking.”

  Harlow stopped pacing. “You’re about to tell me something I don’t want to hear, aren’t you?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Harlow stared at him with tired, unblinking eyes. “Out with it, then.”

  Wallace took a deep breath. “I received word yesterday that our funding is being cut. We’ll have to decide which classes of crew transport shuttles we want to keep in operation, because one of them is being defunded.”

  “We’ve already gone from five classes to three, and now they want us to drop from three to two? Who told you that?”

  Wallace inhaled sharply, looked away, and spoke quietly. “That order came directly from the President, Sir.”

  Harlow stared at him for a long time, and even though he remained composed, his jaw clenched slightly.

  “They gave that order to you, without going through me first?”

  Wallace nodded. “Indeed, they did.”

  Harlow closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. “I have so much I could say about that, but I won’t. Not in here. I’m sure you’ve already thought of everything I could possibly come up with.”

  Wallace nodded again.

  “Did they at least give you reason so we have a justification for this stupidity?” Harlow asked.

  “The reason I was given is that the President traveled in one of our shuttles to a meeting with the mining board of directors this past Saturday, and he was very impressed. Too impressed, because he said, and I quote, ‘This looks expensive.’ Then I got the call that our funding was being cut.”

  The room fell very quiet.

  “Why do we even bother, if they’re going to hang us out to dry every time?” Diaz whispered.

  Harlow glanced at her, and she shifted in her seat. “I’m sorry to speak out of turn.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

  General Miller shook her head. “Can you imagine Richard’s reaction if he’d been present to hear this? He’d have stormed out and called Headquarters right away, and then we’d spend a week doing damage control to clean up the aftermath of his tantrum.” She glanced pointedly at Minerva.

  Minerva stared right back at her. “Well, he’s not here, so you won’t have to worry about it, will you?”

  “Alright, that’s enough,” Harlow said. “We’ve heard more than enough commentary on the situation. We should move on, and Victor, let’s strike that last bit from the transcript. Anything else, Wallace?”

  “No—at least, nothing that’s important enough to demand the Council’s attention, or that you don’t already know. And I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

  “It’s not your fault. Now, let’s talk about something a bit more uplifting. Novikov, how are the research teams doing?”

  [continued in part 2]