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"A puking what?"

Chapter 11

July 1, 2394 AD

Sol System, Earth, Washington, D.C.

Friday, 12:31 PM, Earth Eastern Standard Time

"Ambassador Spellman, welcome to Washington D.C. I appreciate your joining us today," Alexander Moore stood from behind the Resolute desk and made his way across the Oval Office to meet the ambassador from Arcadia. The Ross 128 governor should have made the trip himself, but President Moore saw this as power posturing by the leader of that colony.

"Mr. President. It is an honor, sir. Please, call me Alonzo." The ambassador looked nervous to Moore. That was just the way that the president wanted him. Moore knew he had to convince the colonists to back down on this revolt against the tariffs. Without the money from those tariffs, there was just no way Congress would continue to fund the large military buildup and presence being planned for the U.S. colonies and territories. Without protection, they would be sitting ducks for the Separatists to move in and take them.

"Well, Alonzo, I know it is a damned hot July day, but why don't we take a walk through the Rose Garden and chat man-to-man before the press gets hold of us, huh?" Moore clapped the man on his shoulder with his right hand and pointed him toward the door with his left.

"Certainly, Mr. President. Whatever you would like."

"Thomas." Moore turned to his ever-present shadowing Secret Service agent. "We're gonna go for a little walk." The Secret Service man just nodded and followed.

Abigail, he thought to his AIC.

Yes, sir?

Is Sehera waiting for me out in the Garden?

Yes, Mr. President.

Good. We'll good-cop/bad-marine this flunky.

Amateurs.

My sentiments exactly, Abby.

Alexander and Sehera did their best to take turns charming and then threatening the ambassador at the same time. It was a First Family effort for the history books that applied both soft-spoken diplomacy as well as the big stick. Alexander thought at times that they were getting through to the thick-headed and dull-witted politician, but he wasn't sure.

"Alonzo, my good man, if the Separatists decide to bring their terrorism into your star system, there is very little that Governor Brown could do about it. The Arcadian Naval Guard is little more than a rescue service. You would be at their mercy." Alexander argued his point. "It takes a lot of resources to keep a defense force there, and how do you expect we'll pay for that?"

"Nevertheless, Mr. President, we have a major ground force. Do not forget that our planet has been inhabited for over a century and we have a million-man Armored Guard fully equipped with M3A16 transfigurable tank squadrons. Granted they are not the more modern version used by the U.S. Army, but they are still a considerable force. Governor Brown feels, and I concur, that we can take care of ourselves, sir."

"Even if you are blockaded from space?" Sehera asked. "We only have your protection and best interest in mind, Alonzo."

"Much appreciated, madam, but I'm not certain it is necessary. The governor would like to take steps to insure that no Seppy attack from space would occur, though." The ambassador seemed to be talking out of both sides of his mouth or in circles, and Alexander couldn't tell which. What the hell did he mean by that?

"What steps? The only steps on the table are to accept the tax structure as it is, at least temporarily." Sehera sounded puzzled and for damned good reason. Alexander was beginning to believe that the Arcadians had made a deal with somebody in Congress to hold over the president. But for what gain? He had yet to put his finger on it, but there was most definitely a rotten apple somewhere in this deal, and Alexander was afraid he was going to end up with it.

"Alonzo, Alonzo, my friend, you have got to make Governor Brown see reason on this issue. What little intel we are able to get from the Separatists is that they are conducting a major buildup. I'm not a warmonger. Hell, I've been there, and I hate, with a capital H, war of any type. But I fear it is coming, and we'd better be ready for it, all of us. And we'd better figure which side we're on before it is too damned late!" Alexander emphasized his concerns, though he had very little intel from Tau Ceti to tell them anything. He hadn't spoken to Ahmi in over six years. That was the last they had gotten intel from the CIA, also. Moore was partly bluffing and partly going on a gut feel. He wasn't sure which one he was going on the most.

"You must acknowledge the importance of protecting yourselves from space, Alonzo," Sehera added. "If the Separatists manage to jaunt or QMT in to Ross 128, the first thing they would do is bombard the technology centers and bases across the system. Millions could be killed from space before there was ever an enemy foot set on Arcadian soil."

"Perhaps, but it is merely speculation that there is something at Arcadia the Separatists want. We have no reason to believe this. To the Arcadian people, it sounds fabricated to impose improper taxation upon us." Alexander was incredulous. For some reason, the big stick of the U.S. Fleet didn't seem to have as much impact on the man as it should have. Either he truly didn't believe that the Seppies were a threat, in which case he was an idiot, or he didn't think the U.S. Fleet would do anything about it, in which case he was an idiot. But Alexander had a hard time believing the solution was that simple. Alonzo's visit seemed more calculated, more strategic, and a hell of a lot more obfuscated than it would have been if the man were simply the idiot bureaucrat he first appeared to be.

The three of them talked and talked for the next hour or so and seemed to keep going in circles and couldn't reach a conclusion. After tea in the Rose Garden and a tour of the White House led by the president and First Lady, and the occasional stop for photo ops, enough of their time had been wasted. It finally felt to the three that there could possibly be some conclusion and resolution between Earth and the Ross 128 system, but the president was going to have make good on promises to cut tariffs and have a Navy supercarrier in the system. And larger contracts would have to go to the manufacturers of Arcadia.

The larger contracts part only made sense after the secession of the Tau Ceti system, anyway. Tau Ceti and the Martian Reservation had been the primary manufacturing base for humanity. After the Exodus, all that had changed. Moore couldn't understand why the Arcadians weren't jumping for joy because of the prosperity this new arrangement was going to bring them.

The talks bogged completely down somewhere near the Kennedy Room, so that was when Moore finally called them to an end. He thought they had reached a logical stopping point for now, anyway, and the dead horse had been beaten, rebeaten, and then beaten again just for good measure. Also, they were slated for a public press conference on the outcome of the meeting around two in the afternoon, which was drawing pretty close.

"Next discussion, Alonzo, I want Governor Brown to be present. You should make that quite clear to him upon your return," Moore told him.

"Well, sir, I will take your proposal back to the governor, but he will not be happy with the tariffs still being in place. After all, my primary mission for this long trip was to have them at least temporarily suspended to enable our economy to catch up with the demands that the U.S. military buildup is putting on it. We are having to reinvest into our infrastructure at too great of a pace to afford these taxes, Mr. President."