The discussion continued. Ideas were broached, debated, discarded. The sense of frustration continued to grow. After an hour both the participants and their ideas were exhausted. At that point, the older of the two women on the council cleared her throat to gain the floor.
“No matter what route we choose, given the time remaining to us it’s likely we’ll only have one more opportunity to do what must be done. Therefore it cannot fail. Whatever avenue of pursuit we decide upon must be conclusive, irresistible, and infallible.”
Yukiko bowed—or possibly it was a polite nod—in her direction. “You don’t speak unless you have something significant to say, Millicent,” she said. “Please tell us you have come up with an idea that has not yet been proposed.”
“I think I have.” The other woman smiled; a most reassuring, pleasant expression. “Tell me what you think.” She proceeded to lay out the details of the plan she had concocted. As she spoke, the reaction among the other council members varied from astonishment to uncertainty to muted horror. There were hints of revulsion, but no one came out in forceful objection.
Downing the remainder of his brandy, Baron Ingleton licked his lips as he regarded the woman seated across from where he was standing. Unlike Yukiko, there was no mistaking the bow he executed.
“I can only commend your vision, Millicent. If it can be done, if it can be carried out as you describe, your proposal stands a better chance of stopping the colonization mission than anything we have yet tried.”
The youngest member of the group agreed, with a caveat. “If it goes too far, it will literally terminate the mission. I’m not sure killing everyone on board the ship is an acceptable price to pay.”
The matron turned to him. Her eyes were blue and remarkably steely. “If it works as intended, that result will be avoided. If not…” She let the implication hang in the air. “We will have to accept ending the lives of hundreds in exchange for the future of the human race. When extinction is at issue, there will be occasions when some collateral damage is to be expected. If the worst should come to pass, those colonists already on board will know and feel nothing.”
Her response did not fully mollify the young man. “There are dozens of children on board. The youngest colonists.” His lips tightened. “I know as well as any of you the issues that are at stake, but no matter how I try, I can’t find it in me to refer to dozens of dead children as ‘collateral damage.’” He shook his head. “We need to think of something else.”
“There is nothing else.” Pavel was in accord with the older woman’s strategy. “We’ve tried to think of something else… and we’ve failed.” He looked over at the woman who ought to have been offering chocolate biscuits to giggling neighborhood kids. “Millicent has come up with a plan that, if our people can pull it off, will accomplish everything we must do. If it works perfectly, only a handful of people will be sacrificed. If more have to die…” He shrugged his enormous shoulders, “better that the rest of mankind should survive. Oh-tee-bee-dee.”
“I know as well as you the nature of our goals.” Clearly upset now, his younger counterpart shifted in his chair to glare at the representative from Europe. “But there has to be another way.” He looked resolutely around the semicircle of colleagues. “I for one can’t sign off on a proposal that could potentially result in the death of hundreds of innocents.”
His eyes widened abruptly.
Behind him Baron Ingleton, calm and composed as ever, pulled the heirloom blade from the middle of the younger man’s back and stepped aside as the body—eyes still open in surprise—fell forward to tumble off the chair. Locating a cloth, the Baron proceeded to wipe the slender blade clean.
“We can relax in the knowledge that our former colleague’s conscience will remain forever clear, as he will not be required to sign off on Ms. Millicent’s proposal.” He sighed. “I regret that we will have to anoint a new representative from South America.”
“There will be time later.” An impatient Pavel turned back to the older woman. “We approve of your excellent plan. Have you considered the finer details?”
She nodded, the maternal smile back in place. “It’s relatively straightforward. Once successfully set in motion, it should prove impossible to stop.”
“What about military intervention?” Yukiko asked pointedly.
Millicent looked over at her. “That could certainly crimp our prospects for success, but the timeframe favors us. First the company would have to divine what is happening. Then they would have to inform the military, who would subsequently have to verify the details. Someone would have to reach a decision to intervene, orders would have to be given…” She sat back in her chair, which anticipated the movement and accepted her weight easily. “Our endeavor would be over and done with before the various corporate, political, and military entities could reach a decision.” Her smile widened. “Inertia is our friend.”
“And the Covenant mission would be finished.” Pavel looked entirely satisfied. “Or at the very least, postponed for many years.”
“Decades,” Yukiko put in. “Time we would have to spread the Prophet’s message. Time in which to build up our strength, to the point where the very notion of colonization would be unthinkable.”
Everyone looked to the representative from Africa. “Choma, Baron Ingleton can authorize the critical personnel from among our associates on the continent, but the execution will require the most adept work by people in your region. Are they up to it, do you think?”
The man in question considered, then nodded reassuringly. “Yes, we can handle our end if Baron Ingleton can supply the necessary specialists.” He looked around at his four colleagues. “I believe this can be done. I think it will work.”
Pavel heaved himself erect. “Then let us get to work. From this moment on, every hour is precious.”
They filed out. It was only on the way back to her own rooms that Yukiko thought to inform Dr. Bismala about the body in the meeting room, and the need to send in some people to clean it up.
XXII
“You should make your way back to the Covenant, old chum. I can expedite your transit.”
Lopé sat across the room from Bevridge and ignored the percussive, dirty rain that was rattling against the window of the security chief’s office. The city had never been truly pristine, not even in Roman times. Now living on Earth had become like living in a garbage pail, starting out clean until it gradually filled up. Soon the stains and the smell would become impossible to ignore, or remove. The problem with the planet was that humanity was running out of places to park its refuse. Some managed to get used to living with it.
Having been granted the option, he had chosen to leave it all behind. But not yet. There was business to take care of first. Personal business. That it coincided with company business made things simpler.
“They tried to kill me,” he asserted. “These fanatics.”
“Maybe you should’ve hired their applicant instead of Rosenthal.” When Lopé didn’t smile, Bevridge looked away. “All right, that was a bad attempt at lightening the atmosphere.”
“Hard to lighten the atmosphere,” the sergeant replied softly, “when assassination is the subject.”
“I have an entire team ready to go,” Bevridge told him. “We’ve mobilized a good chunk of our local Weyland-Yutani company security. We’ll take care of this exactly according to the CEO’s orders—quietly and with as little fuss as possible.” Leaning over his desk, he gazed evenly at the nearer of his two visitors. “We don’t need you, old boy.”