“You mean having it on Earth Station,” Egan said.
“Right,” Rigney said. “It’d be better to have it here at Phoenix Station.”
“Because there’s no environment the Earthlings will find less intimidating than the single largest object humanity’s ever built,” Egan said. “Which incidentally will also serve to remind them just how bottled up we’ve kept them for the last two hundred years or so.” She stuffed pasta into her mouth.
“You may have a point,” Rigney said, after a second of consideration.
“I may,” Egan said, around her pasta, and then swallowed. “We can’t have the summit here, for the reasons I just enumerated. We can’t have the summit on Earth because there’s nowhere on the planet short of the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station where there wouldn’t be riots, either by the people who hate the Colonial Union or by the people who want us to get them off that rock. The Conclave, of all people, offered to host the summit as a quote unquote neutral third party at their own administrative rock, which I will remind you is an order of magnitude or two larger than Phoenix Station. We definitely don’t want the Earthlings to make any inferences off of that. So what are we left with?”
“Earth Station,” Rigney said.
“Earth Station indeed,” Egan said. “Which we own, even though it’s above Earth. And that is in fact going to be a negotiating point.”
Rigney furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?” he said.
“We’re offering to lease it,” Egan said. “The lease strategy was approved this morning, in fact.”
“No one told me about it,” Rigney said.
“No offense, Abel, but why would anyone tell you?” Egan said. “You’re a colonel, not a general.”
Rigney pulled at the collar of his uniform. “Stab me again, why don’t you, Liz,” he said.
“That’s not what I meant,” Egan said. “I wouldn’t know about it, either, except that I’m the liaison, and State needed the CDF to sign off on this. This is an agreement far above both of our pay grades. But it really is a masterstroke, if you think about it.”
“Us losing our sole outpost above Earth is a masterstroke?” Rigney said.
“We’re not going to lose it,” Egan said. “We’ll still own it, and mooring rights will be part of any deal. It’s a masterstroke because it changes the nature of the game. Right now Earth has no egress into space. We locked up the planet for so long that there’s no infrastructure for space travel. They have no stations. They have no spaceports. They hardly have spaceships, for God’s sake. It will take them years and a few multiples of their yearly global output to gear up. Now we’re offering up the one way into space that’s already there. Whoever controls it will control trade, will control space travel, will control the destiny of Earth, at least until everyone else on the planet gets their act together. And you know what that means.”
“It means we make someone else the target and take the heat off of us,” Rigney said.
“For starters,” Egan said. “And in the immediate time frame also disrupts any united front they may have had going. You said it yourself, Abel. The nations of Earth can’t agree about anything except being angry with us. In a single stroke we look apologetic and reasonable, they start fighting among themselves and scrambling to make alliances and deals-”
“And we can pick and choose among the players, play them off against each other and work deals to our advantage,” Rigney finished.
“Exactly so,” Egan said. “It changes the entire dynamic of the summit.”
“Unless they all decide to put aside their petty differences and focus in on us,” Rigney said.
“Seems unlikely,” Egan said. “I know you and I left Earth fifteen years ago, but I don’t think planetary international relations on Earth have reached the ‘join hands and sing songs’ stage in that time, do you?”
“I guess the right answer here is, ‘Let’s hope not,’” Rigney said.
Egan nodded. “So now you see why Earth Station is in fact the very best place for the summit to take place,” she said. “We’re not just discussing Earth and Colonial Union issues, we’ll also be walking the showroom with the floor model.”
“Do your diplomats know they’ve been reassigned to be salespeople?” Rigney asked.
“I believe they’re finding out right about now,” Egan said. She speared some more pasta.
“They’re going to hate this,” Rae Sarles said, at the hastily-convened diplomatic staff meeting on the Clarke. “We were supposed to be here to have a frank discussion about other matters entirely, and we’re changing the agenda literally hours before we’re supposed to be under way. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be done.”
Wilson, standing in the back, glanced over to Abumwe and wondered just how the ambassador would step on this particular recalcitrant underling’s head.
“I see,” Abumwe said. “And will you be making that observation to the secretary herself? Or the leadership of the Colonial Defense Forces, who signed off on this plan? Or to the heads of every other Colonial Union department involved in this policy change?”
“No, ma’am,” Sarles began.
“No,” Abumwe said. “Well, then I would suggest that you don’t spend any additional time on how things are supposed to be done, and spend a little more time on what we have to do now. The representatives from the various Earth governments may indeed be surprised that we are now open to leasing Earth Station. But our job, Ms. Sarles, is to make them be happy by the change of events. I trust you might be able to manage this.”
“Yes, Ambassador,” Sarles said.
Wilson smiled. Head squished, he thought.
“Beyond this, fundamentally, our role has not changed,” Abumwe continued. “We have been assigned a series of discussions with smaller and non-aligned countries on Earth. These are third-tier nations in terms of power and influence on Earth, but the Colonial Union is not in a position to ignore or discount any of them, and there is some potential for significant advantages for us…” Abumwe picked up her PDA to send her underlings their updated mission roles. Each of them picked up their own PDAs as if they were in church, following the lead of their pastor.
Half an hour later, the room emptied of underlings, leaving Abumwe and Wilson. “I have a special assignment for you,” Abumwe said.
“Will I be meeting with Micronesia?” Wilson said.
“No, I will,” Abumwe said. “As it happens, I am supposed to speak with them about the possibility of establishing a base on Kapingamarangi. It’s a negotiation of no small importance, or so I have been assured by the secretary herself. So if you’re done condescending to me and my team regarding our assignments, let’s continue.”
“Sorry,” Wilson said.
“Since the Perry incident, the Earth has demanded that no Colonial Union military ships or personnel come to or be stationed on Earth Station or on the planet,” Abumwe said. “Outside of an occasional high-ranking individual or two, the Colonial Union has honored that request.”
“Oh, boy,” Wilson said. “This is where you tell me that my assignment is to guard the Clarke’s rivets, isn’t it.”
“Keep interrupting me and it will be,” Abumwe said.
“Sorry,” Wilson said again.
“And no,” Abumwe said. “Leaving aside anything else, it would be cruel to bring you this close to Earth and keep you confined to the ship. And beyond that, you continue to prove yourself useful.”
“Thank you, Ambassador.” Wilson said.
“You’re still a pain in my ass,” Abumwe said.
“Understood,” Wilson said.
“The CDF continues to have no formal role in these negotiations,” Abumwe said. “However, it also sees your presence as an opportunity to reach out to military organizations on Earth. In particular, we know that the United States will have a small military unit present at the summit. We’ve alerted them to your presence, and they are receptive to meeting with you. So your assignment has two parts. The first part is simply to make yourself available to them.”