2075 - General Lin's Personal Quarters
Lin didn’t respond, and after a long silence, Harlow shrugged. “I understand we’ve had problems there, but that doesn’t warrant the removal of lawful settlers at the urging of a private corporation. I don’t think tensions escalated without reason, either. You used the term ‘organized crime,’ but the reports I heard mentioned gang activity, which is usually reactionary. You provoked them, didn’t you?”
There was a long pause as he waited for a reply.
When none came, he shifted in the chair again. “I don’t know if it was your idea, or simply done at Anders’ behest, but we’ve never had this much trouble there—not until those recent incursions.”
“You’re wrong, and I don’t feel like debating, so I won’t,” Lin replied. “There were no bribes; in fact, this partnership would benefit their community. They’re simply too violent and short-sighted to see it. And as for Anders, none of this is a conflict of interest. It’s simply a side effect of conducting war, so I agreed to it. The boundary lines will have to be redrawn anyway, so I thought we could invite them to the discussion.” He paused again, then slid the glass away. “And as for what they’ve offered, I won’t disclose the full terms, but it’s . . . substantial, to say the least. I could offer you fifteen percent of my cut in exchange for your cooperation.”
“That’s all?” Harlow asked.
Lin seemed taken aback—the first sign of genuine emotion he’d shown since Harlow arrived. “That’s a very generous offer. It would be more than enough to retire on and live quite well for the indefinite future. You could go somewhere more sympathetic to your . . . sort.” He motioned in Harlow’s direction with a vague wave of his hand. “I know you’ve experienced quite a bit of persecution here, and you could put all of that behind you.”
Harlow shrugged. “You’re right—I have experienced a fair bit of persecution, some of which came courtesy of you.”
Lin pursed his lips and looked away. “My commentary on your lifestyle choices aside, all I ask is that you commit the resources and personnel I’ve asked for and grant clearance to carry out operations there.”
Harlow stared at him intently. “I’m not simply referring to elevator chatter or the occasional slur every now and then. That’s just talk, and I can ignore it, but there are far more serious offenses in your repertoire. I’ve seen the signatures on those measures all those years ago, and I know who was behind the purging of our ranks. You sat on that committee, and you amended those bylaws. All of it took place with your express consent, approval, and dare I say, even your blessing. So please excuse me, General Lin, if I don’t trust you.”
Lin paused for a second, then shrugged. “You don’t trust me, and I understand why, but you should trust Anders. I think we can set our differences aside in pursuit of a common goal, don’t you? This isn’t based on empty promises or speculation, otherwise I would’ve never agreed to it. They’ve got incredible things in store, and it would be wise to entertain the idea of taking part, at the very least. I’m not even talking about financial returns—although those are quite promising as well—but the potential this venture has. It could fundamentally alter space exploration, and we could be at the forefront.”
Harlow briefly considered this. “Since when have you cared about space exploration, General Lin? You’ve spent your entire career trying to erase it from our mission. We’re primarily a ground-based entity now, and that shift in focus was almost entirely your doing.”
“Are you here to split hairs over my command style, or do you want answers?” Lin asked.
Harlow shrugged. “Fine—let’s just say I’m interested, then. I don’t care about any numbers you throw at me, because I’ve got no proof of financial solvency. What I care about is long-term success and viability. I want details.”
Lin returned a condescending smile. “Now, you know I can’t tell you everything. I have a feeling you’re fishing for information, but just to humor you . . .”
He took a long drink as Harlow waited, then studied the glass again as he continued. “As I hinted earlier, one of their most promising ventures includes plans for a large-scale asteroid mining project. The new methods they’re testing would give them the ability to strip an entire debris field of precious metals in just a few years. They’re incredibly optimistic about their timeline, too—they’ve got quite a few investors lined up, and they’re already discussing launch dates. That’s why they want to enter the environmental testing phase immediately. It’s one of the most profitable, scalable, and economically viable plans I’ve ever seen, and they’ve already demonstrated success in smaller trials.”
Harlow frowned. “What sets them apart from their competitors, though? Others have made similar claims, and a few even got off the ground, but all of them went bankrupt eventually. No one’s been able to sustain operations like that long-term.”
“This is different,” Lin said, “so much so, they’re already receiving unsolicited bids for partnerships. We’re not the only interested party, but we could become one of the first, which would give us a sizable stake in the company as well as preferred bidding on future contracts. And as for the mining operation, I’ve brokered an exclusive deal in which we’d be the sole provider for all of their transportation and security needs, as well as becoming a minority shareholder and retaining a seat on their board. And yes, before you ask, I negotiated all of this without your permission. Given how much you stand to gain, I didn’t think you’d have many complaints. You can thank me later.”
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Harlow considered these words. “Even with our help, I don’t see how they’d have the manpower, equipment, or transportation capacity to fully mine even a few asteroids, much less an entire debris field. The Soviets already tried, and they deemed it a losing venture. You know how they are—when they put their mind to something, it gets done, even at the expense of everything else. If they couldn’t do it with all of their resources and political capital, Anders won’t be able to either. It’s impossible, and I suspect you’ve been sold a pack of lies. The math simply doesn’t work—not with our current technology.”
“They’ve found a way.”
Harlow stared at him. “If you want my endorsement, you’re going to have to tell the truth.”
Lin hesitated for a second, as if debating whether to disclose more, and finally nodded. “Previous ventures may have failed, but it was always for the same reason—automation. The proprietary robots and drones their competitors developed were faulty and unreliable. It cost more to repair them than it did to replace them, and they were already prohibitively expensive. They had too many limitations—their design made sense for remote, autonomous operations, but led to lower yields, and as a result, they could never generate a profit. Their specifications were so narrow, and their performance so poor, they barely worked outside of testing scenarios. However, Anders has found a way around that.”
“How?”
“For starters, they won’t be focusing on medium-sized asteroids, as their competitors did. They’ll only be selecting the very smallest, with the reason being that they’ll be towed to a fixed location and processed using existing technology, with workers on-site. That’s the other thing—all of their bases will be manned. They’ve abandoned the idea of fully automated outposts.”
“Human labor?” Harlow asked.
Lin smiled. “A novel idea in this day and age, isn’t it?”
Harlow frowned. “What sort of technology will they be utilizing, then? I assume they’ll be operating complex machinery, unless they’re sending someone to an asteroid with a pickaxe.”
Lin shrugged. “It wouldn’t be quite that crude. They’ll have digging equipment and modern processing facilities. But yes, in a manner of speaking—in all of their simulations, the fastest and cheapest model was simply to adapt existing mining operations for space rather than develop new technology. And since many terrestrial mines still rely heavily on human labor, that meant sending humans out there.”
“Is it really cheaper, though?” Harlow asked. “That’s dangerous, difficult work. Robots can operate around the clock without the need for breaks, and if I recall correctly, in similar industries, each piece of autonomous machinery replaced five or six human laborers. The staff required to operate a facility like that would likely number in the hundreds. Those workers are going to want a salary, and a fairly large one, at that.”
Lin flashed a wicked grin. “I’m sure they will.”
He must’ve seen the look on Harlow’s face, because that smile widened. “That’s the beauty of it—we’re partnering with Polaris Correctional Facilities. They’ll be supplying contracted labor to fill those positions.”
Harlow stared at him. “This is going to be a prison colony?”
“I prefer their choice of terminology. It’s a corrective establishment.”
As these words settled in, Harlow shifted in his chair. “What are they supposed to be correcting, exactly, aside from your cheap labor problem?”
Lin shrugged. “That’s not my concern.”
“That’s awfully convenient, isn’t it?” Harlow said. “You don’t have to worry about safety regulations, bad press, or lawsuits, because no one cares if a prisoner dies.”
Lin studied him closely. “Maybe not, but something tells me you do.”
Harlow nodded. “You know my history. I could never agree to something like this with a clear conscience.”
“Something tells me you never planned to agree to it at all.”
Harlow shrugged. “You knew that, though, and you chose to tell me anyway.”
They stared at each other for a long time.
“So what happens, then, if I choose not to support this venture?” Harlow finally asked.
Lin leaned back in his chair, reached for the glass, and took another sip. “Well, for starters, Anders will be very disappointed.”
“I’d imagine they already are,” Harlow replied. “That last string of losses must’ve been particularly embarrassing for you. They’re not happy, are they?”
Lin glanced at him, and Harlow met his eyes. “They thought you’d do better, and you probably did too. That’s why you’ve been so stubborn about this. You’re worried they’re going to walk away from whatever deal you’ve negotiated in light of your recent performance, and you’re itching for a chance to redeem yourself. Why would they give you anything if you can’t deliver the one thing you’ve promised? They think you’re unreliable, and you’re desperate to prove otherwise. Let me guess—you pledged our full support, but neglected to mention that you did it without your chief’s approval, so my fierce opposition came as an unpleasant surprise. They wanted you to clear territory for them as proof of intent, and they were probably shocked that you had to go rogue in order to do so.”
There was no reply, and he held Lin’s gaze as he continued. “Unethical dealings are the norm in those industries, but that’s incredibly brazen, even by their standards. Now your options are either to depose our leadership again, for the second time in a year, or to effectively split an entire branch of the military in order to carry on, and I doubt they find either of those choices appealing. They’re scientists, not saboteurs.”
Lin frowned, but Harlow persisted. “And on that note, I’ve read enough about Anders to know this partnership with Polaris probably wasn’t their idea, either. Once again, you’re trying to pass blame for your actions. That was all you, General Lin, and you’ll never convince me otherwise. You must’ve pitched it to them using the most palatable language possible while scheming to fill prisons in the name of profit.”
A long, telling silence followed.
“This little plot of yours didn’t go as planned, though, did it?” Harlow asked. “You faced far more resistance than you thought you would, both from the locals and from senior command. It’s in danger of falling through, and Anders is considering pulling out. You’re backed into a corner now, and your time is running short.”
Once again, there was no reply.
“As I said, General Lin, if you want out, it’s not too late,” Harlow continued. “If you renege on whatever deals you’ve made, I’ll handle all future negotiations with Anders, and you’ll never have to speak to them again. If you fear for your safety, we can handle that too. This is your last opportunity to walk away, and I suggest you take it.”
Lin scowled as he set the glass aside. “Do you think I lacked agency in this?” he asked. “You’re right about one thing—I set the terms, and I won’t walk away from anything I’ve negotiated.” He motioned across the small gap between them. “You should, though. You’re out of your league, and you know it.”
“Are you rescinding your prior offer, then?” Harlow asked.
Lin shrugged. “Not if you choose to play nice.”
They glanced at each other again, and Lin was just drunk enough now that the mask of civility slipped away, and when their eyes met, Harlow finally saw him as he truly was.