The conference hall bustled with anticipative busy work, secretaries and floor runners ferrying documents between politicians and officials.
There was a commotion by the entrance at the arrival of the recently elected president of the United States, a tall and leathery faced middle aged man whose PR smile needed work. The section of the floor dedicated to the North American Union went to a standstill until the president reached his seat behind the lone podium surrounded by his cabinet, and around them the leaders of the other countries under the NAU banner.
The Chinese prime minister sneered openly at the president’s fashionable lateness, a thinly veiled jealousy that America had sole control of the NAU’s podium while China shared theirs with India and Japan. The triumvirate they portrayed was a façade, China held nearly all of the power in the East Asian Confederation, but Japan had influence in the west that China lacked and India’s population could not be ignored, so China tolerated the presence of their leaders and entourage alongside them on the world stage, but only just.
The veneer was not so thin with the Eurasian Federation. Under the pretense of equality and tolerance, each sovereign nation carried equal legislative weight regardless of size or population. Despite being the smallest of the world powers with the second smallest population, their floor was most chaotic because each nation sent three or more representatives to these functions and no central consolidation of power existed to unite their ideas.
Juxtaposed to the chaos of the EAF was the Russian Annex. A small army of officials representing territories claimed by Russia and their armies sat rigid, operating their documents like soldiers disassembling firearms behind their prime minister, who couldn’t look more like a terminator if he peeled all his skin off and had a metal skeleton underneath.
Which left Commodore Conrad. His podium and chair stood along the aisle between the EAC and EAF floor seats on the EAC side, his was the only seat under the Corps’ falling star symbol. Only his secretary accompanied him, standing next to and behind his seat, clutching a tablet to her abdomen. They were the only bodies in the conference hall unbusied with tedium.
The commodore sat arms crossed as if dozing, but he was watching, listening, sizing up the climate of the room and people in it.
The nature of the politician shifted in the preceding decades. Hollow promises and empty accusations were the favored tools governors used to stay in power over a people whose worst hardships were behind them; few predicted how those tools dulled in the face of eminent extinction. A people preoccupied with their own survival are less susceptible to the aesthetic of a decision over its pragmatism, so when it came time for the generation born into those conditions to phase into politics, they brought their attitudes with them.
Remnants of the old guard and their sentiments lingered in every government, but they were on the verge of dying out. As far as the commodore was concerned, politicians would always suffer the critical failure of being comprised mostly of bureaucrats. Most of these people only see the world they govern through the lens of a camera or the elevation of a podium, he thought.
The notable exceptions proved the rule. The US president was a corporate executive, former navy, dishonorably discharged for shooting a superior officer in the foot, then exonerated when the officer was found to be selling equipment on the black market. The Japanese premier was ex JDF, mountain search and rescue, an Olympic athlete, and served as ambassador to Russia before she was appointed to the diet. Most notoriously was Russia, which had a sordid history of dredging its heads of state from the blackest ledgers of their special forces. Even if everyone beneath them were pencil pushers and bureaucrats, most heads of state had backgrounds outside the immediate political sphere, usually military.
It comforted the commodore. The consensus expectation for a head of state was one who could operate a firearm just as readily as sign a peace treaty. It meant he wasn’t dealing with idealistic children sitting on a gun safe so much as their grumpy parents holding the keys, which made them more tangible threats to be contested against, but it couldn’t be any other way if the commodore was to hold some modicum of respect for his fellow man.
The time was spared to allow a few more officials to arrive, then this session’s appointed speaker took the microphone and the conference hall hushed. “We all know the points of today’s summit, so let’s not waste more time than needed. The crashdown in North America marks the third this year. Mr. President.”
The podium for the NAU lit up and the US president took to it. “We all knew something like this was an eventuality, but we were prepared for it and lucky the venue meant the right people were where they needed to be. The next time a crashdown strikes within proximity to a populated zone, we should expect it to exceed our worst projections. In light of that, the Stargazer Project predicts a greater frequency of crashdowns moving forward. We have two potential solutions: exponential expansion of Corps support and assets to respond to the rise in crashdowns, or rapid acceleration of the Starcatcher project.”
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The Commodore subtly observed the reactions around the room. The Corps was already a global military super power unrestricted by borders and whose full extent of military might was not subject to greater scrutiny so long as they served their primary function. Lumping more power and authority on top of that would alleviate the pressure levied by the crashdowns, perhaps less than anyone would hope, but would tip the balance of power from the delightfully chaotic and pseudo-independent factions to an effective authoritarian state run by the corps, which was more authority than the commodore was willing to wield and more importantly, more than the other world powers were willing to give up.
This was clearly a ploy to draw favor toward the NAU’s pet project, the Starcatcher array, which would end crashdowns on earth in their entirety; effectively eliminating the need for the Corps, but also give the NAU the final say in what may exist in near-earth space as long as the array is up.
The light over the East Asian Coalition lit up and the speaker granted the Chinese prime minister control of the floor.
“I speak for the whole of the East Asian Coalition when I ask why you did not evacuate the city? You have sole control of the Stargazer project, the assets and results of which you refuse to share with the rest of the world. It seems to me that this crashdown landing on one of your cities is with great irony or perhaps justice.”
The speaker returned control to the US president.
“Stargazer is an NAU initiative, the results of which and how they inform our actions are frankly none of your business.”
“But it remains the sole method for predicting crashdowns!” said the English prime minister when he gained control of the floor. “Hoarding such an asset yourself is egregiously irresponsible!”
The German minister of foreign affairs rang in, sounding annoyed as if repeating himself. “Stargazer may be the best method available, but it has been demonstrably inconsistent in its reliability, and when it works as expected, the crashdowns still occur! Starcatcher would negate any reliance on Stargazer or its predictions!”
The Chinese Prime Minister rang in. “The Starcatcher project would not seem so necessary if the NAU were the least bit transparent with their projects!”
The speaker had to call order to the conference hall to silence the shouts of agreement. The US president rang in and waited for the speaker to acknowledge him. “Stargazer was never intended to be a solution. We brought forward a solution. For something as significant as the crashdown threat, it was never going to be a simple one. If another country produced the Starcatcher Array, their policy wouldn’t be any different.”
The speaker took visual cues from the others in the room. “The floor acknowledges this, but we must consider options which do not place the keys to such a venture in one hand.”
“You have three options: Put full faith in the Corps to respond to crashdowns as they happen- but they will still happen, back Starcatcher and trust we have a vested interest in using it responsibly, or stop waiting for us to solve your problems and find your own answer.”
Consensus was too mixed to end in any meaningful change. Some tried to call a vote to have the NAU relinquish control of the Stargazer project or at least mandate public releases of information, but the summit lacked the authority to force such an action.
The session ended half an hour later and for the first time since it started, the Commodore stirred from his seat. He crossed the floor and met the US president.
“Congratulations on the election, Mr. President,” the commodore coldly greeted.
“Commodore,” he amicably replied. “I believe this is the first time we’ve met.”
“The Corps and the NAU always shared transparent collaboration. I hope recent events don’t reflect future interactions with your administration.”
“You should know better than anyone in this room why Stargazer’s insight shouldn’t be flaunted for anyone to see.”
“Perhaps I do, but I’m not ‘anyone.’ My job becomes increasingly difficult without it.”
“I won’t disagree. You’ll have intel on crash sites before anyone else in the world, but as it stands, the locations of imminent crashdowns are a state secret constituting a threat to global security.”
“My people need to be on the ground before there’s time to feed,” the commodore said in a grave tone that made the secret service uneasy. “We can’t afford to let a crash site go unattended. Regardless of how useful–”
“Don’t,” the president coldly interjected, catching the commodore’s grim sentiment like clashing blades. He leaned in close and harshly whispered, “Those were my people. No amount of sympathy at this global farce could convince me to turn a blind eye and ring the dinner bell. You’ll get your information.”
Their gazes struggled against one another like crossed swords until they came to an understanding and ceased leaning into each other like wolves.
“We both stand in advantageous positions over our peers,” the president said, returning to his casual tone. “You have the luxury of being needed.”
“In a better world, I wouldn’t be.”
The commodore reached toward his face and withdrew a pair of spectacles. The conference hall depicted within the lenses dissipated into a blur of information and static. His secretary sitting across from him on the dropship removed her own VR glasses, folded them, and placed them in her blazer pocket.
“Every four fucking years,” the commodore muttered.
Their dropship descended over a choppy, grey ocean toward a dreadnaught of a ship. Like two aircraft carriers linked at the sides, the deck a cityscape of cannons as large as smokestacks pointed skyward.