John Barnes - Daybreak Zero

“You are throwing away everything we have worked for,” she said, now very quietly, rose to her feet, and opened the door. “You won’t need me this afternoon. I am going to take a nap.”

In the silence after she left, Norman McIntyre said, “Mister President, I think you’d better get the deal nailed down while she’s still gone and sulking. And it’s none of my business but I don’t think you should take her back.”

“I have to take her back to Olympia,” Graham said. “I can’t very well just abandon her here—”

“Not what I meant.”

“I know, but it was what I was ready to answer.”

As soon as they were seated, Cameron Nguyen-Peters said, “We found that your text was fine as is. I’ll send it out at the same time you send your version out. I suggest as a general principle that the restoration government should not have its hands tied. It’s going to be the legitimate Constitutional government. We’ve just been caretakers. The caretaker should not bind the real government.”

“I absolutely agree with that principle,” Graham said.

“Good,” Cameron said. “I’ll ask my staff to prepare a list of all the decisions we’ve made since the TNG was formed; we’ll send the list to the restoration governments so they can ratify, nullify, or whatever.”

“I’ll do the same for the PCG’s actions. What’s that leave from your list?”

Cameron looked down at his notepad and read aloud.

“Mechanics for the election

What to do about the New States—which overlaps

the election issue

merging the armed forces

hard line against the Castles, no recognition and no special position.

“Also we wanted to propose a joint military expedition into the Lost Quarter, which might overlap most of the other issues. We want to at least take down Castle Earthstone, and General Grayson has suggested that if the TNG and PCG cooperate fully, we could do a great deal more.”

Graham grinned. “Almost exactly my list, except for that last bit—which I like a lot.”

In the next few minutes, they delegated every complex issue to joint committees and resolved every simple one. Election procedure and military merger went to joint committees to be set up in Pueblo in the next month. The New States of New England, Chesapeake, and Allegheny, never having assembled governments, were void; the PCG would cease trying to organize them. The New States of Superior and Wabash, having now functioned for some time, would exist until the restoration government took power, would have electoral votes based on their seats in the Provi legislature, and would then be admitted, or not, at the discretion of the restoration government. Any former state could secede by majority vote from a New State until the restoration Congress provided otherwise. Regular, pre-Daybreak Army units, which mostly answered to Temper civilian control, would cooperate with New State governments in exactly the way they cooperated with older, pre-existing state governments.

Both governments agreed to accord no special legal status to any Castle, and that no government communications were to refer to any of the titles the freeholders gave themselves, “except internal reports for law enforcement,” Weisbrod added. “General Grayson, if I may suggest, why don’t you draft a list of options for dealing with Castle Earthstone, and with the Lost Quarter in general, and forward it to General McIntyre for comments? Assume you’ve got any resources we are not obviously using for immediate defense. Give Cameron and me some cheap options in case we have to be misers, but also give us a couple of Cadillac plans, the biggest and best things you think are within our grasp.”

“I’ll do that immediately, sir,” Grayson said.

Weisbrod smiled. “Now, if there’s nothing left on either list, should we, maybe, think about a declaration of principles at the end of the joint communiqué? Something to guide any future courts or our successors in what our thinking was?”

“The principle we’re after,” Cameron Nguyen-Peters said, “is to trust to the common sense of the people who are going to be elected, which also means to the common sense of the people electing them.”

McIntyre sighed. “I’d like that principle better if it didn’t sound like a complete abdication of responsibility.”

Graham Weisbrod peered at the general over his glasses; of the people in the room, only Heather knew he couldn’t see a thing that way, that it was purely an intimidation trick Graham had picked up decades ago. Graham waited two beats. “Well, General McIntyre, it’s appropriate to abdicate responsibility when you’ve made a mess and there’s someone else around who can clean it up better than you. As for the mess, look at my government, or at Cam’s. As for cleaning up, there are thousands of small towns, dozens of military units, tens of thousands of small businesses, community organizations, you name it, that are doing the cleanup right now. I assume we’ve both read the news from Wapakoneta in the Post-Times ?”

Fussing with exact words took a couple of hours, but the president and the NCCC seemed to enjoy it, and insisted on continuing over a late lunch. Long before dark, they were shaking hands for the camera. Sure hope we’ve got film that lasts now, Heather thought, because whoever publishes the history books is going to want that picture.

Allie had always wondered how she’d handle a serious defeat, because she’d never had one. Uncle Sam used to say I was his trifecta niece because even if I didn’t win, I always finished in the money. Wonder what he’d say now?

Sam and a big part of the family had chartered a wooden sailboat just after Daybreak and set off to the south, heading for “somewhere warm where the food won’t run out.” They had not been heard from since. Perhaps they’d been caught by the fringes of the big storm (but they should have been well south by then); perhaps they’d had a fire at sea from the EMP of the superbomb (but they should have found landfall by then); maybe they’d run into those first-wave pirates, the ones out of Florida and Bermuda, who had badly disrupted the southward exodus? (But they’d been well-enough armed and they should have been a match for anything roaming around.) In any case, she hadn’t heard from them since waving good-bye from the dock, and since her name was on the radio and in the Post-Times often enough, they should have been able to find her. Maybe they didn’t want to. You are a big success girl but you are not a wise girl or a patient girl and people do not like you, Papa had said.

Her thoughts went round and round; if she just had a friend to talk to, a friend who would have her back no matter what.

Sitting on the bed and looking out the window, she was amazed at how dark it was outside. She’d eaten nothing since breakfast, had moved only from armchair to bed to desk within her small room since she’d stormed out on Graham. That dick less sycophant McIntyre stayed. Why didn’t I—

There was a soft knock at the door. “Come in,” she said, expecting Graham Weisbrod, expecting a fight—

Not expecting that pudgy, balding little man who had taken over Arnie Yang’s job. His name was—some piece of obscure oldies trivia, they used to play trivia in the bars in college—“Mister Hendrix,” she said.

“Yes. May I come in and close the door? This room is secure, and there’s something vital we need to discuss.”

“Oh, sure,” she said. “Sit down. I’m amazed that anyone discusses anything with me.”