Rick Partlow: Duty, Honor, Planet

Glen shook his head clear of such unworthy thoughts as the limo pulled up to the steps of the capital. The press were there in force, mobbing the three of them as they exited the car, pointing an arsenal of holocams their way. They reminded Glen of vultures hovering over a fresh kill.

The press are our friends, Glen reminded himself dutifully, fixing a smile on his face as Senator O’Keefe called for one question at a time.

“Senator O’Keefe,” asked a reporter Glen recognized as Maggie Wescott from Republic HoloNet, elbowing her way forward, cameraman in tow. “Are you worried about your daughter’s upcoming factfinding tour of the star colonies?”

“It’s President Jameson and his friends in the Southbloc who should be worrying,” O’Keefe shot back. “Val’s mission will prove to the world that Jameson is using Republic colonial policies as a giant slum clearance project to throw a bone to his political cronies.”

“But what about the recent unrest on Loki and Inferno?” another reporter prompted. “Aren’t you concerned about her being in the middle of all that?”

“As a father, I am, of course, constantly concerned with the welfare of my only child,” the senator responded. “But she’s a grown woman, and quite capable of taking care of herself. Now, if you don’t mind, unless you have some questions for my daughter, I’d like to find a good seat.”

Laughter at that, of course, as he’d intended.

“Ms. O’Keefe,” another journalist asked, waving his hand. “If you’re correct about conditions in the colonies, do you seriously believe that the local governments will allow you to collect proof of it?”

“That could present an obstacle,” Val acknowledged. “But I’ve got a master’s degree in overcoming obstacles.” She smiled broadly. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, waving off further questions, “I’ve got a speech to give.”

The Senator hid a smile from the cameras as he led them up the steps. She was, he thought warmly, an O’Keefe.

“If I may bring this special session to order,” the Majority Leader said, pounding her gavel. The buzz of conversation from the floor died slowly away as the Senators took their seats. From his chair behind the podium, Glen could see vice-president Lopez in the crowd, representing the Executive branch. The man was such a pawn, Glen thought to himself, shaking his head slightly. He was, as the Senator had said, a bone thrown to the Southbloc, just like the Colonial Guard and the emigration policies.

The Majority Leader looked over the quieted crowd. “Now here to introduce our special speaker is Senator Daniel O’Keefe, Libertarian, Canada.”

O’Keefe rose to loud applause, shook hands with the Majority Leader and took the podium.

“Thank you.” He acknowledged the applause with a nod, then waved it off. “Fellow senators, distinguished guests, Mr. Vice President, it is my distinct honor to present to you today a young woman who has accomplished more in her twenty-five years than I have in my sixty-three. She holds a bachelor’s degree in political science from Georgetown, a master’s in international relations from Harvard, and is a dissertation away from her doctorate. As a sophomore in college, she was one of the charter members of the Economic Justice Association and her work on their Senate-sponsored mission to the Aphrodite colony—which provided the material for her master’s thesis on colonial policy—brought international attention to the problems with forced relocation.

“Today, on the eve of an historic tour of the star colonies, she has been asked to speak to this body on that same subject, in preparation for extensive hearings which will be conducted upon her return next year.” O’Keefe paused, a smile spreading across his face. “And beside all that, I’m proud to say that she’s my daughter. I now present to you Ms. Valerie O’Keefe.”

Val stood and walked up to the podium, pausing to kiss her father on the cheek.

“Knock ’em dead, honey,” he whispered, giving her arm a squeeze before he took his seat.

“Thank you.” Val nodded to the clapping audience, waiting for them to quiet down. When they did, she took a deep breath and plunged headlong into her address without preamble.

“Throughout human history,” she began, “technology has offered salvation to mankind in many different forms, from nuclear power to the current Eysselink stardrive. But scientific apples from the Tree of Knowledge often threaten to bring about a fall from the very Garden of Eden they promise.

“With the technology to produce nuclear and fusion power came the horrible weapons which very nearly destroyed us all at the opening of this century. With the space travel that offered us the resources and energy we so desperately needed in the last few decades came the competition for those resources which sparked the Sino-Russian War and the resultant, devastating nuclear exchange between the two power blocs.” Above her a hologram coalesced into the bodiless visages of Sergei Pavlovich Antonov and his Chinese counterpart, Xiang Li Peng. Xiang’s face was the chubby, pleasant countenance of a grandfather, hiding the xenophobic paranoia that led him to a confrontation with the Russian Republic. Antonov, conversely, had the classic features of a conqueror: the aquiline nose, the storm-grey eyes and the imperious mustache that befitted the self-described Napoleon of Eastern Europe.

“And now,” she continued as the images faded, “technology has offered us salvation yet again in the form of the Eysselink stardrive. It has truly given us the stars, and ensured that no single disaster will destroy the human race. But this technological rose, too, has its thorns. With the capacity to discover the hidden wonders of the universe, to harness incredible sources of energy and raw material for the advancement of the human race, we have instead turned the colonies into a dumping ground for the poor and politically undesirable.

“Unwilling to solve the problems which cause poverty and discontent, we choose instead to shove our problems out of sight, where they won’t bother our consciences. In the past ten years, over twenty million involuntary emigrants have been shipped to the least hospitable of the colony worlds by Southbloc and Eastbloc nations. They have not been shipped there for their own benefit, but for the benefit of these governments. They have been given no economic aid beyond a pitifully small emigration bonus, but they have been abandoned to the elements in places more extreme and alien than any on Earth.

“Two years ago, I travelled to the Aphrodite colony as a part of an Economic Justice Association mission to investigate the treatment of forced emigrants, and to research my master’s thesis on this issue. There, I was introduced to the Mendoza family, Jorge and Carmella, and their two children, Anna and Elisabeth.”

At this, another hologram snapped to life, high above the Senate floor, of a Hispanic couple and two small children, all dressed in little more than rags.

“Jorge and Carmella were forcibly relocated three years ago from El Salvador, where they had been living on welfare for the previous year due to the depressed economic conditions in that state, and the obsolescence of Jorge’s former occupation as a small farmer. Now that formerly proud and efficient farmer has been dumped on a hundred acres of the most desolate wasteland I have ever seen.”

The hologram panned out over an expanse of ruddy desert, baking under the white-hot rays of Tau Ceti, then returned to the shot of the Mendozas.

“When they were told they were being sent to Aphrodite, Jorge and Carmella immediately thought of the beautiful land of the travel holos, thought they had been most fortunate. But that paradise is restricted to the planet’s temperate southern hemisphere. The northern hemisphere is an arid wasteland, with an average temperature of thirty-five degrees Celsius and an annual rainfall of less than ten centimeters.