Caroline Renleigh keyed manual codes into her console. Will Sandaleros spoke on a closed link to Sanctuary internal security, a group so seldom used that most people had forgotten it existed—which had allowed Will free rein in building it up. On every comlink in Sanctuary, and every comlink on Earth turned to the five serious donkey newsgrids, there appeared an image of the decaying habitat Sanctuary had purchased from the Japanese, Kagura Orbital, whose name meant “god music.”
Jennifer’s voice spoke over the image. “This is the Sanctuary Council. The United States government has announced an invasion of Sanctuary tomorrow morning, in the form of a so-called peace-keeping delegation. But there can be no true peace where there is physical and economic coercion. We have not agreed to host this delegation. We are a peace-loving people who wish to be left alone. If the United States does not honor this wish, it in effect will be launching the first attack. We will not permit Sanctuary to be attacked.
“For the purpose of deterring this attack, and as a demonstration of the lengths to which we will go to protect our home, Sanctuary offers the following demonstration. The United States press has speculated on what weapons Sanctuary could possibly bring to bear to defend itself. We don’t want this to be a speculative question. We don’t want our secession from the United States to be tarred with any imputation of withholding vital information. We do want to avoid war by the illustration of how terrible such a war would be.
“This is Kagura Orbital, which Sanctuary now owns. There are no humans left on the orbital. Animal life does remain here: domestic livestock, insects used for pollination, birds and reptiles used for ecological balance, and miscellaneous rodents.”
Each holostage or comlink screen showed the interior of Kagura, first in a long pan and then in close-ups of grazing goatows and bicattle. The Japanese had fewer restraints on genetic engineering than the United States; the meat stock was thick, slow, juicy, contented, and stupid. The robot cameras followed the flight of a bird, the scuttle of an insect on a leaf.
“In a single hidden packet on this orbital is an organism developed by Sanctuary genetic engineers. It is wind-borne. Its genetic code includes a built-in seventy-two-hour destruct from the time it is released. This packet will now be released by remote from Sanctuary.”
The view of the orbital showed no change in sound or light. A gentle breeze created by maintenance ruffled some leaves. The meat animal munching them, a bicow, rolled its eyes. It made a single anguished, painful sound and crumpled.
Birds fell from the skies. The drone of insects stopped. Within two minutes nothing moved except the leaves, rustling in the lethal breeze.
Jennifer’s voice said quietly, “Kagura Orbital is open to any scientific expedition that wishes to verify this phenomenon. Wear full contamination suits if you arrive before seventy-two hours have passed, and exercise utmost caution. We advise you to wait until after that time.
“There are similar packets, in multiples, throughout the cities of New York, Washington, Chicago, and Los Angeles.
“Do not attempt to dock any delegation at Sanctuary tomorrow, or to fire upon Sanctuary in any way. If you do so, we will consider ourselves justified in retaliating. The retaliation will take the form you’ve just seen.
“We in Sanctuary leave you with a thought from one of your own great statesmen, Thomas Paine: ‘We fight not to enslave, but to set a country free, and to make room for honest men to live.’ ”
Caroline Renleigh terminated the broadcast.
Immediately the Council screens filled with scenes from inside Sanctuary. People streamed into the central park where Remembrance Day speeches were held. The lattices had not been put up over the growing plants and Jennifer, watching intently, thought it a good sign that no one trampled any plants. Her people were angry, but not destructive. She looked from face to face, cataloging the anger.
No one in Sanctuary had been told about the Kagura demonstration except the Council, which had voted for it, the carefully-chosen graduate students who had planted the packets on Earth, and Will Sandaleros’s equally-carefully chosen security force. The secrecy had been a hard fight for Jennifer. The elected councilors, fiercely committed to their community, had wanted to discuss the weapon with their constituents. Jennifer had invoked her own trial, when someone inside the old Sanctuary in Cattaraugus County, someone never identified, had mailed the Sanctuary Oath to Leisha Camden before the Council was ready to release it. The same thing could happen again. And Richard Keller—Najla looked fiercely out the window, Ricky at his feet—had taken information about their operations to that same Leisha Camden, imperiling them all. The same thing could happen again. The Council had finally, reluctantly, agreed to secrecy.
“Sanctuary is not a military machine!” a face now shouted into the comlink. It was Douglas Wagner, an original settler, in his youth a peace activist. He had formidable organizational skills; he could be very powerful.
Will said, “I’ll sequester him and later I’ll talk to him myself.”
“Take him quietly,” Jennifer said, so softly that no one but Will heard. “Don’t create a rallying point.” She tried to watch all the screens at once.
“We should have been told!” a woman cried. “How is Sanctuary different from the beggars’ society if decisions are made for us, about us, without our knowledge or consent? We aren’t dependents, and we aren’t killers! This was no part of the independence plan we were told about!” A small crowd gathered to listen to the woman.
“I know her,” Councilor Barcheski said. “Will, have her brought here to a meeting room. I’ll talk to her.”
A face on Will’s security comlink said, “All quiet in B section, Will. People seem to agree that the demonstration was necessary, if distasteful.”
“Good,” Will said.
Councilor Dey said, “Here they come.”
A group of citizens stalked purposefully toward the Council dome, which had been opaqued. The surveillance screen showed the citizens try the door, try again, and realize that the dome was locked. A computer voice said smoothly, “The Council wants to hear all your opinions on the controversial demonstration of Sanctuary power, but right now we must concentrate on the reactions from Earth. Please come back later.” The Sleepless looked at each other: Indignation. Resignation. Anger. Fear. Jennifer studied their faces.
After ten minutes of loud protests, they went away.
The broadcasts from Earth began.
“…unprecedented terrorist threat from a quarter long suspected by many to be not only disloyal but dangerous…”
“Instant crisis in the developing standoff between the Sanctuary Orbital and the United States government from which it is trying to secede…”
“…dangerous panic in the four cities allegedly mined with deadly viruses, although officials are…”
“…a mistake to believe that just because a threat has been made the capability to carry out that threat necessarily exists. American genemod expert Dr. Stanley Kassenbaum is here with us now to…”
“Ladies and gentlemen, the president of the United States!”
The donkey grids were fast. Jennifer would give them that. She wondered if the other grids would continue their inane jokes about Oregon.
President Meyerhoff spoke in his slow, rich, reassuring voice, reassuring in part because it was heard so seldom and had therefore taken on the value of a scarce luxury, like three-carat natural diamonds.