Chapter 6 - Telling the Family

ESED Headquarters - Luxembourg

Three days in the elevator trains wasn't really enough to reacclimatise the body from zero gee to one gee, so Cho and his team were all very wobbly when they alighted at Low Point Station.  The hypersonic flight back to Luxembourg, with its attendant period in weightlessness didn't help, and they were all definitely feeling the effects when the HST touched down.  Pride forbade the use of wheelchairs, as the flight attendant undiplomatically suggested, and they staggered off the transport in Luxembourg, and settled gratefully into the luxurious faux leather seats in the back of the extended town car sent to pick them up. 

The news vid feed available on his quadplex was innocent of any startling revelations about the Anubis’ nuclear arsenal, but there was an item on a legal action being launched by the Anubis Mining Company, or rather La Société Minière d'Anubis to give it its formal French name.  The company still existed, albeit in much diminished circumstances since the end of the war.  The company’s directors had hired a prestigious Paris law firm to press the company’s legal claim to the Anubis.  Cho hoped that Clark’s prediction that the lawyers could sort it out would come to pass.

There was, of course, the other small matter of the horde of rampaging paparazzi and other journalist wannabes hanging around the airport exit.  Earthgov Security struggled hard to hold the exit road open, and progress was slow.  Eventually they arrived at their hotel, and took a much needed few hours to rest and get ready for their meeting at the President’s office.  As it turned out, the President had other business to attend to that morning, and was represented by the Vice-President, Klaus von Mackensen.  He hailed from the Germanic Federation, a political entity which encompassed former German states, and the German speaking areas of what had been Switzerland. 

Kessler, Winkel, Clark, Detroit, and a small number of very senior Defence Force officers and officials also attended. 

The news of the nuclear arsenal on the Anubis came as a considerable surprise to those attendees not previously notified.  Winkel, in particular, was much aggrieved at their presence.  It was then that Cho realised how much of his own political capital was tied up in the Anubis project.  For something like this to potentially jeopardise the great project which would crown his career with ESED miust have come as a terrible blow.  Winkel had been a serving officer in the Western Alliance’s Strategic Forces at the end of the war, and had reputedly spent much of his post war career doing his best making up his part in the carnage which had ended the fighting.  But the key argument, as Cho had predicted, was what to do with the unexpected nukes, and the political impacts of announcing their existence.

‘The issue, as I see it,’ von Mackensen started, is removing the weapons from the Anubis, and making a general admission to the public that we erred in not dealing with these weapons at the time of the armistice.’

‘With respect Mr Vice President,’ Kessler replied, ‘We have already made a very public commitment that we have located and dismantled the last nuclear weapons.  The whole planet is a declared nuclear weapons free zone.  I for one, and the peace movement in toto, would undoubtedly like to keep it that way.  To ensure we meet the dismantling criteria to everyone’s satisfaction, we will have to remove them from the Anubis, transport them back to Earth down the space elevator, and convey them to a safe location where we can take them apart under the gaze of the reconstituted Nuclear Weapons Regulatory Commission.  The political and security implications of doing that are enormous.’

‘So what do you suggest then,’ von Mackensen replied, ‘leaving them up there, waiting for someone to eventually leak their existence, and the knowledge that we have known about them for all that time?  That really would rattle the Treaty.’

‘Mr Vice President,’ Winkel broke in, ‘it is conceivable that they, or at least their fissionable components, will be of considerable value in the course of the Anubis’ journey to the stars. We need to provision the ship for every possible contingency, including ones that we believe inconceivable today.’

‘So you are suggesting just leaving them there, and making the ship’s commander a nuclear armed dictator.  No gentlemen, this will not do,’ von Mackensen replied loudly.  ‘Placing that much power in the hands of anyone, not matter how reliable or honourable, is too great a burden for anyone to bear.  General Cho, your record is exemplary, and I don’t wish to cast aspersions on you.  Furthermore, I know, as the commander designate of the Anubis mission, you must be wondering what you would do if confronted with the need for their use.  So I want us to be clear on this point.  Earthgov is sending a peaceful mission to the stars.  We are not signalling our future intent to our colony worlds by sending a nuclear armed warship.  That will be my recommendation to the President.  Gentlemen, thank you for your input today.’

And with that the meeting ended, and von Mackensen’s aides ushered them out.  Outside, Kessler called an immediate after-meeting.  This meant his private office.  Cho, like virtually every other general in Defence Force, had never seen it.  Meetings invariably happened in the outer office meeting room.  So, with considerable interest, he was ushered in.  What he found surprised him.  Louis XVIII furniture was definitely not what he expected.  Kessler’s family was old military, but it was clear that fighting was not the only thing that the Kessler’s family did.  Collecting, or maybe looting, with taste, clearly came as part of the family package.

Kessler ushered him and the others in, and ordered his aide to get some coffee.  It was not often that a full colonel went for coffee, but today one did.  Of course, this meant that nearest more junior officer was actually sent on the errand.  A few minutes later, steaming hot coffee and some local pastries turned up, and Kessler and Winkel started airing their differences on the nuclear weapon dilemma.  Cho found the exchanges fascinating.  It was precisely the opposite of what he would have guessed.  In a turnabout from the normal stereotypes, Kessler was the dove, and Winkel the hawk.

After several minutes of them rehashing the arguments they had put to Mackensen, Cho broke in.

‘Gentlemen, the bombs could be disassembled on the Anubis under international supervision.  The fissile components are an issue, as they are too enriched for use in the Anubis’ fission reactors, but could be further reprocessed on board for use as fuel rods.’

Kessler turned away from his confrontation with Winkel, and said, ‘I had forgotten the Anubis has fission reactors.  While they are onboard, you or any future commander could build your own weapons.’

‘They are an integral component of the ship’s power system.  They are not coming out,’ Cho replied in a stiff tone.  ‘Anyway, building fission bombs requires uranium enriching equipment which I doubt the Anubis has.’

‘You don’t know that for certain, do you, and plutonium is a normal by product of a fission reactor.’

Cho was forced to concede this point.  ‘I am awaiting the report of the survey team, so I can’t be certain yet, and yes, ongoing use of the fission reactors would create a stockpile of plutonium, after a while.’

Before Kessler could press this point, there was a sharp knocking on the door, and then Kessler’s aide entered carrying a printout, which he handed to Kessler.  He spent a moment reading it, and then took a tissue from his desk drawer, and wiped his suddenly drenched brow.

‘We will have to put this discussion on hold, and await the verdict of the court of public opinion,’ he said gravely.  ‘The news about the Anubis nukes has been leaked.  Every news service on the planet is carrying the story.’

‘What will you do,’ Winkel asked?

‘Institute a full internal inquiry,’ Kessler replied, ‘and ensure when the President’s Office demands an inquiry I can prove that it wasn’t a member of my staff.  In turn, the President can do the same.  However, there is little doubt where the leak came from,’ he said, turning his gaze on Cho.

‘None of my staff would do such a thing,’ he said, with some heat in his tone.

‘I know,’ Kessler said, as if backing down from the unexpected response.  ‘I am sure it was from the Vice-President’s Office.  He and the President have a difficult working relationship at best, and this type of news, with the appropriate slant, is ideal for him and his backers.  Whoever controls the President’s Office controls the flow of public money being doled out for pork barrel projects.  Applying pressure on the President is one way of doing it, or using the scandal to force her out.’

‘What are you going to do,’ Winkel asked again?

‘Provide whatever our duly elected officials require, within the law, of course,’ Kessler responded with a slight wink.  ‘There is little point in keeping you both here.  Best you should continue with your respective projects.  We will reconvene when all the shouting dies down.  General Cho, a moment, if you please.’

Winkel made his exit, and Cho awaited whatever Kessler had to say.

‘Richard,’ Kessler began in a friendlier tone than Cho had expected, ‘I don’t want today’s issues to affect the overall Anubis project.  We still aim to have the ship ready for launch in a year, the nuclear weapons discovery notwithstanding.  We will have a storm to weather for a time.  But it will pass.  I want you to proceed with the overall programme and don’t accept any delays this current crisis may create.  In the interim, be prepared for some searching media inquiries regarding your parents.  I have no doubt that the more extreme media and political entities will do all they can to smear you.  Don’t be drawn into their games.  Say what you want to say, and say it as often as you need to.’

Kessler’s support in a time of crisis was much appreciated, and Cho’s face reflected his appreciation. ‘Thank you Sir,’ Cho replied.  ‘I’ll do that.’ 

‘Before you go, I understand you are taking a few days leave.  The usual arrangements apply while you’re away.  If anything urgent comes up, we will be in touch.  Have a good time at home.’

‘Thanks, I will,’ Cho replied.  With that, Kessler’s phone rang, and Cho exited as he answered it.

Returning to his temporary office in the ESED building, he found his personal press officer, a young ESED officer named Gina Brinkman, dealing with a multitude of quadplex, vidphone, and webmail inquiries.  She turned to him as he walked past,

‘General,’ she said in a shrill, rather harassed, voice, ‘there have been some interview requests for you.’

‘Really,’ Cho replied.  ‘How many?’

‘About fifteen hundred, and still counting, Sir,’ she replied.

‘I see.  Okay, accept half a dozen, as geographically spread as you can make them, with the widest possible coverage, and ask the interviewers to submit questions beforehand.  Also, make it clear to them that I am not interested in answering personal questions unrelated to the Anubis command.  I will respond to questions related to the nuclear weapons discovered on the ship, although you will liaise with the President and Kessler’s press officers over the line they wish to take on them.  Anything else?

‘Yes Sir, there have been requests for you to front regular vidscreen presentations by the project publicity officer over the course of the project.  We can have them holo-ghosted for you if you prefer.’

‘Did they state any particular duration in these presentations?’

‘About three minutes or so - anything longer tends to put the average viewer to sleep.’

Cho laughed.  ‘We can’t have that,’ he replied.  ‘Tell the publicity officer I will be happy to appear on them.  Ask him to provide a schedule for when they due.’

Cho then carried on to his office.  One of the larger corner offices in the ESED building had been requisitioned for him, and the Anubis project team was rapidly expanding to other floors in the building.  There he found his new personal assistant, a Lieutenant Adam Farmer, seconded from Kessler’s office for the duration.  Farmer was of English origin.  His parents were high up in the 3^rd British Empire’s government, with his mother a lady in waiting to Queen Sophia, while his father was a senior administrator in the Empire’s intra-solar colonial administration.  Farmer’s plum filled accent was beginning to grate, but Earthgov relied on the Empire’s support, and it would be diplomatically inappropriate to send him back to Kessler’s office.

‘They’re in your office Sir,’ Farmer began.  ‘But before you go, there is an urgent communication from the President’s Office for you to look at.’

‘Thanks,’ Cho replied.  Cho pulled his personal datapad from his briefcase, tapped in the ID code and held his thumb to the biometric reader, and quickly read the message on his personal mail server.  The news was hardly surprising.   He walked into his office, to find Clark, Detroit, and their respective aides.  The latter, including Farmer, took notes, while Cho, Clark, and Detroit did the talking.

Their report covered the viability of the Anubis’ current power and control systems, and a preliminary report from the survey team still on board was attached as an appendix. 

The gist of the reports were that ship’s internal systems were in better shape than expected,  Despite the use of the ship by the Western Alliance for over seven decades, its presence on the ship had been largely benign, albeit with system installations not originally designed for the ship, such as the axial mass driver.  The extra power generation and distribution systems now snaking their way through the ship which supported the axial mass driver had markedly improved the ability of the ship to transit interstellar space.

Externally, though, things were very different.  The exterior pods were largely destroyed, and what was left was highly radioactive.  Some kind of laser ablation and gas collection system was considered the most likely way of removing the hot sections of hull.  The ship’s hangars had been hit by the attacks, but the thick doors had largely spared the hangars significant damage.  However, the doors had been warped and holed and were no longer airtight, and required replacement.  Because the doors had been closed automatically prior to the attacks, the hangars themselves were only mildly radioactive, and decontamination would involve stripping the interior linings back to native iron ore, and refitting the spaces. 

The skin of the ship had borne the brunt of the Eastern attacks, and much of the ship’s external systems, such as the sensor arrays and the laser and defensive missile turrets, were either gone entirely, melted, or otherwise rendered non-operational. 

Most worryingly, hundreds of the thousand or so nuclear missile silos had had their external doors damaged and required repair.  While the external doors had absorbed much of the near miss heat and radiation, they had been flash welded to their silos.  This meant that the status of the missile inside those silos was very difficult to assess.  Radiation incursion into the internal access tunnels beneath the silos, and the effects of the explosions EMP was so considerable as to render on-site and remote assessment difficult to impossible to achieve.  It seemed that the Eastern Federation had had very good targeting information because while the axial mass driver had been attacked and temporarily put out of action, much of the missile damage was on or around the nuclear tipped missile silos.  Presumably the Easterners had been determined to put the Anubis’ secondary attack systems out of action as well.  To make it worse, they had employed some extremely dirty bombs for the job.

The net result, which took a while to get too, was that while it was possible to remove the nuclear weapons, actually doing so for over eighty per cent of the arsenal was nigh on impossible in the near term.

‘That’s not what the powers that be have in mind,’ Cho reminded his team.

‘Sorry, Sir, but extracting those warheads is going to be a nightmarish job.  The surface around the silos is too hot for astronauts, and anything but the most heavily shielded robots.  Frankly, it would be easier to report them as destroyed, and leave them where they are.’

‘How long before the surface is safe enough for astronauts to work on the surface?’

‘Another hundred and twenty years ought to do it,’ Clark replied.

‘I see.  So once we are deep space I can order my crew to fix the missiles, and turn the ship into a Death Star.’

‘Something like that Sir,’ Clark responded with a slight grin.

‘I doubt that that position is going to be acceptable.  We will need independent verification of the access problems, otherwise Earthgov and ESED will be accused of a cover up, or worse.’

Cho turned to the next section of the report.  It was the list of equipment required to refurbish the ship to 24^th century standards. He scanning through the long list and the accompanying explanations, and he hoped and prayed these were only preliminary cost estimates.  They seemed to total to the national gross domestic products  of the North American states.  In his whole career he had never expected to be requesting a budget with that many zeroes in it.

‘I take it these are the preliminary estimates,’ he said, as the cold sweat cooled on his suddenly feverish brow.

Detroit looked mildly sheepish, but not nearly enough so when he replied, ‘Yes Sir.  It will take at least another two months to refine the list of items required.’

‘So the project budget is going to rise then,’ Cho asked?

‘Undoubtedly,’ Detroit pointed out.

‘Okay, but I am going to have to justify these enormous sums with the oversight committee.

‘What oversight committee,’ Clark asked?  ‘I thought we reported directly to the President’s office on this project.’

‘We did, until about half an hour ago.  Now we report to a panel chaired by the Vice-President.  It appears that turn-about is fair play in the upper reaches of government, because he is now personally responsible for oversight of the Anubis project, including the risk of failure.’

Does that mean that he will be responsible for allocating fit out and provisioning contracts.’

‘Oddly no,’ Cho replied.  ‘The President holds the final approval of where the contracts go, based on the recommendation of the project’s managers.  I head the project management committee, so I guess it will be my head on the line if things don’t go the way the higher ups want them.’

‘So what are you planning to do to make this project go somewhere,’ Clark asked, her tone of voice betraying a level of worry, and bewilderment about the machinations of high office holders that Cho found refreshing.  For once she didn’t have an answer?

‘Don’t worry Doctor, Between us all we will make the bird fly.  Now, before we end this, as you are aware, I am taking the rest of this week off, and will be back on Monday.  If anything urgent comes up in the interim, let me know, otherwise it can wait until my return.’ 

The meeting ended, and Cho spent the rest of the day drafting his first project report for the new oversight committee.  It included all the current developments, and he carefully held nothing back.  He had learned from his long experience in the military bureaucracy that a ‘no surprises’ and as little speculation as possible about the success or failure of future developments were the two best policies when it came to dealing with civilian politicians.  He then circulated it among the section heads for comments.  What came back over the next day or so was fascinating.  Each was clearly already captured by their respective project teams, and the comments generally reflected the need for more concentration of resources to their objectives than should be allocated to other project teams, not to mention the freedom to comment adversely on the necessity or otherwise of projects unrelated to their specialties.  The wisdom of Solomon was as nothing to what Cho needed to have to manage the project. 

Meanwhile, his first public broadcast interview was coming up in ten days, and over the intervening period he needed to understand the project as much as possible.  But first, he needed to do something else.  The Defence Force Transportation Department had found him and Harrington space on a SST going in the right direction and he was going to take a few anonymous days off, because he had to go home, a trip he had been putting for some time.

New Zealand

A day later, the SST landed at the military terminal at Mangere Airport, once on the outskirts, but now deep within the former mega city that was Auckland.  At its height, it had stretched from the Waikato River to deep into Northland but now was retreating back to the Isthmus, with demolition contractors furiously tearing up abandoned subdivisions, and restoring them into farms and native forest.  From the airport he and Harrington, and two Earthgov Security bodyguards required to accompany him, would take the brand new commuter rail connection from the airport into the city, that had finally been constructed after centuries of complaints about the abysmal public transport system in the city. 

The New Zealand Government had been notified of the visit, and there was the usual, and unusually discreet, security presence in the public areas of the airport Cho and his entourage had to move through to get to the commuter rail station.  What was unusual as far as Harrington and his bodyguards were concerned was that there was none of the pointing and crowding onlookers and requests for autographs that would typify a transit through, say, the rebuilt Greater Angeles airport for the suddenly famous.  Instead, there was the occasional rather more dignified raised eyebrow of recognition that Cho as a public figure would expect to get while in New Zealand.

Once they boarded, the train took off, making a series of stops at commuter stations down the line.  None of the other passengers appeared interested in the party, and Cho read from his rather battered personal datapad while the others observed the other passengers or looked out the window as the urban scene passed their windows.  The roads visible from the train were choked, as usual, with commuters struggling to negotiate the spaghetti network that centuries of unregulated road construction had left.  Auckland had achieved an unparalleled record in cities  Over sixty per cent of the city was now roadway.

The commuter train ultimately stopped at the central transport terminal buried beneath the historic Banks building near the waterfront.  Here there were a few people waiting for them.  In line with the low key theme, the Lord Mayor of Auckland, flanked by a number of over dressed city managers, waited to be recorded in the presence of a Kiwi lad who had done good, and a couple of official photographers.  Cho kept this part of the trip to as short a time as decency permitted, but found himself agreeing through gritted teeth to a parade up Queen Street from the waterfront to the Town Hall at some unspecified time in the future.

The official pleasantries over, he and the rest boarded the Auckland-Wellington maglev train and travelled south to Rotorua, allowing Harrington and the security detail the opportunity to see some of the most beautiful countryside New Zealand had to offer.  An hour later, at the Rotorua railway station, only a few people were waiting to meet them.  Cho noticed that Harrington was looking around apprehensively for the journalists.  There were none to be seen.

Stepping out of the air conditioned carriage, Harrington remarked, ‘What the hell is that goddamn smell, Sir?’

Cho laughed.  ‘That, Captain, is hydrogen sulphide, the smell of home.  Don’t worry, you will get used to it. The city is built on a geothermal zone, in the volcanic heartland of the North Island.’

‘You mean those are volcanoes,’ she said with a hint of nervousness as she pointed at some of the more interesting peaks in the vicinity.  ‘Are they likely to go off.’

‘We generally hope not.  Anyway, that is not so important.  I want you to meet some people.’  Cho walked down to the small group of people.  They were clustered around an elderly Asian woman in a wheelchair.  The others affected the typical untidy Kiwi appearance.  A medium sized, balding, and red faced European man and a Chinese woman, both a little younger than Cho, and two teenage girls of mixed heritage.  The latter rushed over and hugged Cho.

‘You’ve put weight on, boy,’ the old woman said, in a surprisingly strong tone.’

‘Nana, you’ve lost some,’ he replied as he leaned down, and hugged her.  Standing up, he did the introductions.

‘Captain, I want you to meet my grandmother, Cho Ang, my sister, Cicely, and her husband Gerald Hope, and these two young ladies are Amanda and Sharon   Everyone, this is my aide, Captain Judith Harrington, and these,’ he said, pointing at the two burly men in their unfamiliar casual clothes, ‘ are Agents Able and Baker, our bodyguards.’

The others laughed, and everyone bundled into the two waiting cars, which zipped them through to the Hope family home, which was located on a promontory overlooking Lake Tikitapu and Lake Rotokakahi.  The Hope’s lived in a six bedroom house with a guest bungalow, where the two bodyguards bedded down.  There the Americans took in the views of the green and blue lakes set in a sea of native forest.  All around them the humid air was filled with birdsong.

A day of fishing on Lake Tarawera later, Cho assembled his family after a sumptuous trout dinner to have the conversation.  They knew of his appointment, but this was a first hand opportunity to hear its impact.  As Cho spoke, he realised that for, this was merely the first of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of similar conversations as people explained to families and friends that they would forsake them forever.  To their credit, they had clearly already considered the implications of his appointment as commander of the expedition, and they had been waiting this opportunity to hear him out.

‘So, you’re going to leave, and not come back.  At least not any time soon,’ Cho Ang slowly enunciated.  ‘Not even in our lifetimes, or even that of my great, great, grand children.’

‘Yes Nana, that’s exactly what I mean,’ Cho replied.

‘I don’t want to live the rest of my life never seeing you again boy,’ she said with a sob, tears running down her cheeks.  She buried her face in her hands.

‘Don’t cry Nana,’ was all Cho could make himself say.  Tears started running down his cheeks as well, as he took her hands in his.  ‘This is an important job, and I want to do it,’ he added ineffectually.  The tension of the occasion was felt around the room, because Cicely and the two girls were overcome too.  Even Harrington’s poker face showed traces of emotion.

‘Then you should go, and when you are gone, we will grieve for your loss to us, your family,’ Cho Ang replied sullenly.  With that, she demanded that she be wheeled back to her room, which Cicely did. 

Gerald, and the two girls remained.  They were far more interested in the mission, and what Cho would encounter out in the vastnesses of space, and Cho did his best to answer them.  Rather more alarmingly for Gerald, as his face obviously reddened at the time, was the inquiry his daughters Amanda and Sharon pitched to Cho about places for them on the crew.  It was only when they did so that Cho gained some sort of insight into the romanticism that they attached to the exploration of space.  The impact of all the old space movies and television shows suddenly hit him in the stomach.  They thought he was going on some great adventure, and wanted to come too.

‘Girls, I don’t think you have realised just how dangerous this mission is going to be.  There is a pretty good chance that no one who goes will ever see Earth again.  And, should they somehow make it back, it will be a very different place to what they left.’

‘If you can go uncle, then why can’t we,’ said Amanda, at seventeen the oldest of the pair by three years?

‘Because I say you can’t,’ Gerald chimed in. 

‘Dad, please,’ Sharon said, in the cloying tone every father of daughters knew well, designed by nature to cause their resistance to whatever the daughter wants to melt like butter on a hot day.  Even as he watched, Cho could see Gerald weakening.  It wasn’t that he a bad father, he just tended to indulge his two girls, rather too much in Cho’s opinion.

‘I have final say on the crew complement, girls, and there is no way you are going,’ Cho broke in, with the air of finality that went with his command voice.  That silenced the girls, and Gerald signalled his thanks in the traditional Kiwi fashion, by offering everyone old enough a beer.  The girls disappeared to their rooms in a huff, leaving the adults, now rejoined by Cicely, to discuss the mission that Cho was now apparently destined to go on, and never come back.

‘So when are you leaving,’ Gerald asked?

‘About a year from now.  I will be back before then.  Mission personnel are going to be required to spend as much time with family and friends as they can before departure.  There will be limited opportunities for contact in the first year after departure too, depending on the cold sleep schedule.’

‘So you’re not going to be awake during the whole trip,’ Gerald asked politely, although his tone made it clear that he knew the answer already?  There had been worldwide coverage of the mission, and every commentator who knew anything about space flight had spent long hours discussing every known mission implication in exhaustive and tedious detail.  Of the thousands of vid channels, a disturbing percentage had talked about nothing else.  It was if the whole world had been desperate for some real news.  Much to Cho’s initial surprise he had found himself at the centre of the whole thing.  Now he found himself being questioned by people he cared about, so he tried to not come off as condescending.

‘No.  No one will be awake for all of any of the voyages.  One of the problems we are working on is how to manage the people who will have to be awake more than other members of the crew.  One of my colleagues made some pretty frightening predictions about the specialist crew members who will age at a relatively faster rate than everyone one else, and need replacement that much faster as well.’

‘Do you think you will make it back to Earth,’ Cicely asked, a note of hope in her voice?

‘I will try to, but there are so many unknowns.  We are scheduled to look at seven primary systems we know the colonist ships were headed too, and as many of the alternates.  If we cut the time in each system to an absolute minimum, and maximise people’s time in the cold sleep chambers, there is a reasonable chance that some of the younger crew members will make it back.  If we have to remain in any of the systems for any length of time, then it will be their descendants who report back.’

That revelation deadened the room.  Everyone looked at him as if he was deliberately going to his doom.

‘Will we have any news of you,’ Cicely demanded, an angry note in her voice.

‘We plan to send back updates to Earthgov every three months or so.  We can accelerate data modules back to this system at near light speed, so there will be a constant stream of progress reports over the course of the mission.  Each module will have the capacity to carry all the previous reports plus the new one, so if any get lost along the way, the next one will fill in the gap.’

‘If those things are zooming through the system at near light speed, how will ESED catch them,’ Gerald asked?

‘ESED won’t.  Each module will broadcast its data, and then continue through the system.  To minimise the risk of in-system collisions, they will be coming through Earth’s system either through or above the orbital plane.’

‘But how much time will go by before you come back,’ Gerald asked?

‘It is hard to say, but if all goes well, the ship and its crew should be back sometime within the next thousand years, Earth time.’

Even though they must have known this from the relentless coverage, hearing him say it seemed to make it more real for them.  Tears started dripping down Cicely’s face, and she got up and left.  Cho started to stand up and go after her, but Gerald beat him to it.

‘I’ll look after her,’ he said, as he hurried from the room.  Cho couldn’t stand the atmosphere in there any longer, and retreated to the deck overlooking Lake Tikitapu.  In the distance it steamed in the sunlight, as he tried to collect his thoughts.  He had known this would be hard, but it wasn’t until this moment he had realised how hard.  It wasn’t just that he would leave behind his loved ones forever, but it was also because his leaving would bring pain into their lives.  For the first time he thought about resigning, and getting someone else to go in his stead.  There was no shortage of other people who could do it.

Then his mind turned to all the others who be coming with him.  The pain he and his family felt would be felt by millions more around the globe.  Then tears coursed down his own cheeks.  What the hell would he do with a massive crew suffering from the grief of eternal loss of everyone they had left behind?  And more disturbingly, what sort of people would volunteer for that kind of duty?  There had to be a better way.

He felt a hand grip his left shoulder.

‘Sir, are you alright,’ Harrington brayed into his ear, her Texas accent jolting him back to a sense of reality?

He pulled himself together.  ‘I am fine, Captain.  I wouldn’t mind some time alone.  Why don’t you and the security team go have some coffee in the kitchen?  I’ll be fine here.’

Harrington shook her head, but she and the minders left him to his thoughts.

Cho stood on the deck staring out into the beautiful evening view.  The sun had just set, and the lake was a mass of darkness in the distance.  The first stars were just visible, when he realised that he was no longer alone.  His grandmother had silently wheeled her wheelchair onto the deck next to him, and was holding his right hand in her left.  She too looked out into the distance.  They stood like that for a time, and then she spoke.  As she did, new tears poured down his face.  As he held her hand he could feel the strength that she had brought to mothering an orphaned child.

‘I have thought on what you said boy,’ Cho Ang said.  ‘I know you want to go to the stars.  I know that is your destiny.  You’re a restless spirit.  All your adult life you have never called a place home.  Even this place, where your family lives, is only somewhere you visit.’

‘What are you saying Nana,’ he replied, as he sat down on a bench, and then looked deep into her eyes?

‘There is a word in English that comes to me whenever I think of you,’ she said, her face crinkling like a sea of wrinkles.  It’s ‘wanderlust’, it is what I see you having.  You spend your days wandering this world, but I think you have set your heart on wandering the stars.  I envy you that, because everywhere you go out there, it will be for the first time.  Your world renewed, all the time.  I think it is that which takes you away from us.  It is your nature, and it will never change.’

‘So you’re prepared for me to go, and never see you again,’ he said, a choke of sadness in his throat.

‘I am resigned to it,’ she replied, her heartfelt sadness reaching into his body and gripping his heart.  ‘I am deeply wounded by the prospect.’  Then she half sobbed and half chuckled.  ‘ Boy, I have known you your entire life.  It would be wrong of me to work against your nature.  I cannot ask you to stay when you are offered such a choice.  That would be true death for you, and for me, because you would resent your choice forever.  I don’t want to hold back your dreams, because it is through accomplishing them that you truly live.’

‘Then I will do my best to live up to your confidence in me, Nana’ Cho replied.

‘When you go, I will never see you again, but my love with be with you always,’ boy,’ she said, her voice choking again with emotion. 

‘As will mine for you Nana,’ he said in return.

A subtle knock at the sliding door behind them caused Cho to turn around.  Standing at the door was Harrington.  Clutched in her hand, and proffered towards him was Cho’s quadplex.  He usually tried to not to wear it behind when he visited his family, so Harrington was carrying it for him.  He also knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t interrupt him if it wasn’t important.

‘What is it Captain,’ he inquired?

‘Urgent call from ESED,’ she replied.

Walking to the door, he took the quadplex from Harrington.  On the unit’s tri-D display panel, Winkel’s face peered disturbingly out at him.  Moving into the main living room, he extracted the built-in headphones and plugged them in.  This dimmed the unit’s speakers, and transferred all the audio output to the headset.

‘What can I do for you, Doctor Winkel,’ Cho began.

‘General, we have a problem,’ Winkel responded.  ‘The AMC has launched a recovery action against ESED and Earthgov for return of the Anubis.  The complaint has been lodged with the Luxembourg Central Court that Earthgov has retained unlawful possession of the Anubis, and the Court has appointed a magistrate to investigate the company’s claim.’

‘I thought Earthgov had outright ownership of the ship,’ Cho replied.

‘That’s where things are misty,’ Winkel said, his face pursing in the appearance of concern.

‘You mean foggy,’ Cho replied.  Winkel’s New English was fluent, but Cho, a native New English speaker, had noticed some of Winkel’s expressions weren’t always right.

‘’Quite so,’ Winkel responded.  ‘The Western Alliance acquired the ship under war emergency powers early in the war.  That meant during the war the Alliance government leased the ship.  The lease payments apparently ended when the ship was reported destroyed.’

‘Did the Alliance government recompense the company for the ship’s loss,’ Cho asked?

‘As far as I know, the answer to that question is no.  By then the lease had run for decades, and I know damn well that the Alliance government hadn’t paid a centime for years before the war ended.  The AMC was wiped out by the war, and had no means to pursue Earthgov for the Alliances unpaid lease payments, or the loss of the ship.’

‘But now it has,’ Cho replied darkly.  ‘Who’s funding the action?’

‘I don’t know.  I’ll talk to Earthgov Security about that.  I’ll also try and find the files relating to the acquisition under the war emergency powers.  Finding it could be a problem.’

‘How much of that paperwork is actually going to be found in the old Alliance files,’ Cho wearily replied?

‘I have no idea,’ Winkel responded rather too quickly.  ‘But you can bet the AMC still has its copies in its Grenoble headquarters.’

‘Has it always been located in Grenoble,’ Cho asked.

‘As far as I know, yes.’  Winkel paused for an instant, and then added, ‘I know what you are thinking; did they survive the nuclear strike on the city?’

‘That question does spring to mind,’ Cho remarked.

‘The company headquarters were famously located in one of the nearby mountains.  I think you can assume its copies of the agreements survived the attack.’

‘I don’t see what’s so mysterious about the situation then.  Even if the Western Alliance files can’t be located, then the company’s own files should prove its case,’ Cho responded.

‘You’re being sanguine about this.  If the AMC gets the ship back, it could ruin the project.’

‘I don’t see why.  The AMC probably wants its fair dues.  That should be our negotiating position when we sit down with them.  Is there some urgency to get me back to Luxembourg early?’

‘Yes, I suppose there is.  As the head of the project, we are going to need you to manage the ESED end of the investigation, and deal with the political fallout.’

‘I can deal with media inquiries from this end, if necessary.  Ask the investigating magistrate to call me if he or she has any queries.  Otherwise, ask my staff to schedule a meeting with the company’s representatives for when I return in four days.  Going back early would indicate that there is a unwarranted level of panic.  Our message from here on is that this is a problem to work through.  It will not derail the project.  That ship is going to the stars as promised.’

‘Okay, I’ll pass the message on.  I’m glad you being so calm about this.  The President’s Office has been on my back for the past day demanding constant updates.  The President appears to be very nervous about the whole thing.’

‘Tell her office we aim to resolve this amicably.  If it that if it has any further problems tell it to call me directly.’

‘I’ll do that.  Enjoy the rest of your holiday.’

‘Thanks, I will.’

Cho handed the quadplex back to Harrington, who had spent the conversation sidling up to him, and then said, ‘I think it is time for some drinks.’

‘Planning to get hammered Sir,’ Harrington asked?

“No Captain.  I don’t want to find myself out of a job before I have barely started.  You won’t be doing much drinking either.  You can expect some further calls over the next few hours.  Just pass the important ones to me when they come in.  For everything else, just take a message.’ 

As he said that, the phone lit up as another call arrived.  Harrington took a message.

The following two days passed in a blur.  Cho anchored a three person conference call between Winkel and the Vice President’s office, which achieved nothing as far as anyone could tell, gave a number of bland responses to media inquiries about the AMC legal action, added some sound bites to ESED press releases, and got in some fishing.  The only time he seemed to get some peace was when he was cleaning trout, because Harrington was squeamish about blood and dead things, something that wasn’t mentioned in her personnel file.  She was also reluctant to spend time on Gerald’s boat, because she got seasick.  Cho knew she was rated for operations in freefall, but apparently her cast iron stomach couldn’t cope with a lake’s chop in an aluminium dinghy.

Then the holiday ended, and after a last night’s celebration, during which Gerald and Cicely took the opportunity to invite their friends around, much to the consternation of Cho’s minders, Cho and his entourage were ready to leave.  The party had gone well, and it gave Cho an opportunity to gauge the reaction of civilians to the Project.  He had spent most of the party fielding questions, most of which appeared to relate to the sense of wonder at what he would see out in the stars.  The dangers and the risks of long duration space travel hardly came up at all.  Cho found that mildly reassuring.  The only jarring note was the inevitable questions of the cost of the venture, and whether there was any point to it.  A few naysayers argued that the huge sums required for the mission would be better spent on Earth.

That last was not a new argument, having been trotted out ever since the US-Russia space race of the 1960’s.  As Cho pointed out in response, space programme budgets were cut back for six decades after the Moon landings for precisely that reason, seriously stifling developments thereafter, including the first landing on Mars, which should have happened in the 20^th century, not the mid 21^st. 

A few wiser heads noted the extra spending on the mission would have to be paid for by borrowing, which implied some tricky Earthgov financial problems in the future.  The collapse of the United States of America because of rampant state and federal borrowing and spending was mentioned as well.  Cho didn’t feel the need to respond to that argument, especially if someone was surreptiously recording the conversations.  The last thing he needed was someone reporting an ill chosen comment.

Cho woke up the following morning feeling the effects of over indulgence, but was still fit enough to go for a final walk down to the lake and back before he and the entourage readied for the trip back to Europe.

Over breakfast, Cho reflected that the trip home had seemed to calm his family, as if his presence had reassured them somehow about the future.  He had promised to come back as often as he could over the year to come, but they knew he would be busy for most of that time.

The morning departure at Rotorua’s railway station was more difficult.  Word had got around, and the press was definitely more present than it had been when he arrived.  This time his minders had things to do, and were backed up by the local police, who had their hands full with the media, and curious citizens, who were always interested in a good show.

Cho also had to endure a speech from the local mayor, who seemed miffed that Cho hadn’t taken the time to shed some of his limelight in his direction with a video opportunity, before he said his last goodbyes, to Cho An, Gerald, Cicely, and the girls, and climbed back on the maglev train.  Cho’s office had notified him that there would be some sort of public event in Auckland before he departed New Zealand, but the rapidity of the planning had meant that the details were rather sketchy.  Fortunately he had brought a dress uniform with him for just such an emergency, as had his aide.  His minders had to make do with their usual black suits.

The trip back to Auckland was quick and uneventful, unlike the circus awaiting them when they had to change trains at the central railway station.  This time there was a national level delegation awaiting the train’s arrival, with the country’s Prime Minister, a large number of Cabinet ministers, and a huge press posse awaiting them.  Never one to pass up the opportunity for some positive publicity, the politicians ushered them into limousines, and drove them up Queen Street to the Auckland Council complex.  The complex’s central skyscraper grew out of the northern flank of Mount Aotea, and was now the tallest building in Auckland, replicating in some ways the historic Sky Tower which had dominated the city’s skyline until the volcanic disaster in the early 22^nd century which created Mount Aotea demolished it. 

There, in the replica of the 20^th century Auckland Town Hall, Cho and his mission was feted by his countrymen, and had to listen to many speeches praising his contribution to well, everything the speechwriters thought he had contributed to.  Eventually Cho got up to respond in kind.  Working his way up to the podium, he took in the beaming faces of his countrymen clapping.  After shaking the hand of the Auckland Mayor again, who had spent the event officiating, Cho turned to take in the sea of faces in the great hall.

‘Prime Minister, ladies and gentlemen,’ he began, ‘I want to take this opportunity to thank you for today.  I have lived outside New Zealand for a long time, but it has been a constant reassurance to me, no matter where on Earth I am, or even when I am not, that I can always return home, and again be part of the extended family that is New Zealand.  Soon our expedition will be embarking on a voyage of discovery.  Wherever we go the essential qualities of all Kiwis travels with us too.  We will take the kindness, the generosity, the willingness to help,  the common sense, and the down to earth values that make New Zealand what it is.  No matter what my crew and I encounter out there, be assured that we will apply those wonderful qualities to every situation.  They have carried me far in my career, now we have the chance to carry them to the stars.  What you have shaped will in turn shape our friendship with the exo-colonies.  I can think of no better gift to take on our expedition.  Thank you.’

Weighty applause drowned out whatever the Auckland Mayor said to him, so Cho slowly made his way back to his seat, shaking out stretched hands.  The speeches over, the function concluded with Cho working the room before quietly slipping out to catch his Earthgov SST, whose departure had been delayed for far longer than anyone expected.  His lasting impression was that the people there were genuinely sad to see him go.

‘That seemed to go okay,’ he remarked as he sat down on the SST.

‘Yes Sir,’ remarked Harrington, her poker face once again resumed, as she sat in the seat next to him.  Cho’s two minders stretched out behind them, their seats pushed all the way back.

‘You know Sir,’ she began, ‘in all the time I have worked for you, I have seen you do a lot of those impromptu speeches, yet I have never seen you prepare for them.  How do you do them so well.’

‘I don’t know.  It’s a gift I suppose.  My father was apparently quite good at them, so maybe I inherited it from him.  When I make those speeches, I just think of what the audience wants to hear, and say that.  People like reassurance, and that’s generally what those short speeches are, reassuring ones.  For the really serious speeches, where I am saying stuff that people don’t want to hear; I really have to work on them, and they don’t come naturally.’

‘I am surprised that you didn’t go into politics Sir,’ she replied.  ‘You sure have the gift of the gab.’

‘How do you know I didn’t, Captain,’ he replied with a guffaw.  ‘As you rise in the service, you will discover that all we ever do is politics.  As Clausewitz might have said, only some of it by other means.  The fiercest battles I have ever fought have been over board tables, arguing with my superiors, or the elected officials, over budgets.  Soldiers generally fight to make things better.  That’s what keeps our hearts in the fight.  It when the soldiers forget that that things turn nasty.’

‘Did you mean what you said back there, Sir,’ she said in a serious tone.  ‘About those values we will take with us.’

‘Of course, Captain.  I couldn’t go if we weren’t.  If we aren’t going out there to help, then we shouldn’t go at all.  That’s what started this thing.  Someone called for help.  Now we are going out there to do just that.  Now, wake me when they serve breakfast. Thanks.’ 

With that he pulled the eye shades down from his brows, adjusted the little inflatable pillow, and tried to get some sleep.