Starcorp 1: Escape from Sol

“I asked all of you here because I wanted you to be the first to see this,” Eckhart explained in a pleasant delivery.

The eight men seated in Edward Eckhart’s study were the heads of their respective governments. Out of the ninety-seven United Front member states, their nine states represented thirty percent of their combined industrial might. The eight leaders were perusing through documents in file folders that were assembled just for them. Each of them examined the documents inside with great interest in what was written on them.

“This is too much,” Chrisfield insisted. “They will never agree to this.”

Trent Chrisfield’s affinity for the starcorps was well known by all. His only reason for signing the United Front Pact was to appease the political pressure he was getting from his constituents and their representatives.

“They’re not supposed to,” James Repasky gruffly corrected.

Repasky’s hatred for the starcorps exceeded Eckhart’s animosity for them. But this was achieved with less provocation. Antipathy was Repasky’s default disposition towards anyone new. This feeling invariably expanded to hate if he perceived this person or persons to be in opposition in with him.

Seth Jacobson had no love for the starcorps either, but he, unlike Repasky, was willing to overlook much if it reinforced his political career and added to his personal wealth. Repasky’s nonsensical remark was quick to annoy him. This was due to a desperate need to know what position he should take in this. He was quick to put a question to Repasky that he was counting on to give him this clarification.

“What does that mean?”

“We should be demanding their repatriation with Earth,” Repasky continued without consideration for Jacobson’s question.

“We might as well declare ourselves at war with the starcorps behind a resolution like that.” Paul Quillin retaliated without hesitation.

Quillin had no dislike for the starcorps, but he was always careful not to show this. Few people knew of his true inclinations towards them. This fact was a testimony to his adeptness as a politician. His signing onto the United Front Pact was simply the act of a politician that was trying to hold on to his constituents’ favor. However, he was keenly aware that this anti-starcorp movement could go too far. The last thing he wanted to be blamed for was a sudden downfall in the fortunes of his state, and he had no doubt that a violent conflict with starcorps would bring about some extreme hardship.

“How would we divide up all of this off-world property?” Jacobson queried with cunning. “Who gets what? We’d likely ignite wars between ourselves.”

Jacobson anticipated that this point would make apparent to everyone the inherent flaw in this line of thinking. The others did not miss its validity, but they were reluctant to say so.

“No, there doesn’t have to be a war,” Repasky argued after a pause. “We can come to an agreement.”

Repasky’s thinking was not misunderstood by anyone there. They knew he was talking about standing together and forcing the starcorps to come to terms with them. This was a regular theme of his. However, the others, minus Eckhart, were dubious that the states could come to an agreement about the division of the property and wealth of the starcorps among the states of Earth. Jacobson was the first to vocalize this doubt, and he did so in no uncertain terms.

“In your dreams, maybe…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Quillin interceded ahead of a Repasky response. “The starcorps will fight.”

“Then we fight,” Repasky returned with heated vigor.

“A bombardment from space would destroy us,” Quillin insisted in his retort. “We dare not threaten the existence of the starcorps. We don’t know how they will react.”

This statement was an echo of an argument that had been made several thousand times over the past century and in every capital around the world. In these past arguments, no one disputed this conclusion. They all knew that the post-Third World War Earth was incapable of defending itself against an attack from space. Their numerical advantage afforded them no defense against a relatively minuscule force of military spaceplanes in Earth orbit. The politically fragmented planet lacked the ability to extend its might into Earth space to any substantial degree. It was this weakness, above all others, that perpetuated the starcorps authoritarian footing.

“I agree,” Shin Lin declared resolutely. “Eckhart, we need to bring this down to a reasonable number. We have an opportunity here. We have leverage. The starcorps will make concessions to us if we make our demands realistic.”

Shin had been reluctant to express his views ahead of knowing what the others were thinking. It was his nature to learn the plans and gauge the disposition of others before revealing his own. He was still unsure where Eckhart was going with this. But he was convinced at that moment that he was plotting to go far beyond what was prudent.

“Realistic!” Eckhart challenged in a word. “The starcorps spent the past hundred years getting fat off equipment and resources that belong to the people of Earth. To ask for less would be a concession.”

“We have benefitted from their success,” Chrisfield argued back. “Without the starcorps, a billion more people would have died within the first three years after the war. And god knows how many more between then and now.”

“And how many more could they have saved if they weren’t devoting the bulk of those resources to their own comfort?” Eckhart questioned an instant behind.

It was this argument, more so than any other, that propelled anti-starcorp animosity. There were many on the Earth that believed that all the resources of the starcorps should have been directed towards Earth’s relief. This position was held more fiercely by those that had suffered the most.

“When the starcorps broke away from Earth they began to grow and prosper,” Chrisfield defended. “If they hadn’t have done that Earth’s geopolitical strife could very well have brought the industrialization of space to a halt.”

“That’s their justification,” Eckhart responded calmly. “And I don’t believe it for a minute. We would have come together to make it work.”

“At best, we would have stripped the starcorps down to off world factories that did nothing but produce survival rations for Earth,” Chrisfield disputed with a shake of his head. “Growth…, expansion—the economic boom that they experienced after their separation from Earth authority—none of this would have happened. I know you hate the starcorps, Eckhart. I have no love for them either. But we need to be reasonable. We are not without some debt to them.”

“We owe them nothing,” Eckhart roared back.

“I agree,” Repasky supported, strongly. “Everything they did for the Earth they were obliged to do. We shouldn’t be making excuses for them. They—owe—us! We have no debt to them.”

“But this,” Chrisfield challenged with a shocked expression. “This is outrageous.”

“I’m in agreement with Chrisfield,” Shin declared in a passive tone of speech. “We have to make this more palatable to them if we’re going to do it all.”

“We have to draft some sort of resolution that the starcorps will at least consider,” Bessinger spoke out as though he was saying the obvious. “We’re all on record as supporters of this.”

Darryl Bessinger was almost indifferent to this entire debate. He neither favored nor hated the starcorps. To him, they were simply a reality of the times. All the events that were swirling around him were either a political asset or liability that he had to negotiate his way around or through. He took nothing personally.

“This is way over the top, Eckhart,” Herzfeld offered behind Bessinger’s comment. “We have to be smarter than this.”

For Alan Herzfeld, everything that affected his political standing was personal. He did not take threats to his political wellbeing lightly, and he was capable of being unscrupulous in his method of dealing with them.

“I agree with you, Eckhart,” Wegener spoke up softly. “They should pay us what they owe us.”

Karl Wegener was nothing if not the ultimate political opportunist. When it came to risky political positions, he was notorious for remaining noncommittal until the last moment, and he regularly chose the winning side when he did. The only exception to this was when there was an upside to being on the losing side. This was just such an occasion. He agreed with what Chrisfield and Shin were saying, but he knew that Eckhart was a potential threat to him. He could see that Eckhart was about to lose this debate and the winners would, in turn, lose his support. By Wegener’s reasoning, this was the safest position to take.

“I’m not signing my name to this, Eckhart,” Chrisfield insisted with a definitive expression.

“Neither will I,” Shin declared a second behind.

Chrisfield sat forward in his chair and gave Eckhart a stern look before emphasizing his refusal with a final remark.

“You have to see, Eckhart, this is never going to get the votes in a general assembly that it needs to be adopted.”

Chrisfield was confident that the majority of the signees to the United Front Pact would follow the lead of the majority in this room. And he had no doubt that he and Shin had that majority. Eckhart was aware of this too. It was for this reason that he invited the eight of them there. It was his intention to win their support at this meeting.

“I do not have to convince a general assembly,” Eckhart explained with a casual delivery. “I only have to convince you. A general assembly will follow our lead.”

“I’m telling you, Eckhart,” Chrisfield countered with more defiance. “We won’t agree to this.”

Eckhart appeared unaffected by Chrisfield’s declaration. After a pause to examine the eight faces that were looking at him, Eckhart retrieved a stack of papers from the interior of a file folder that was situated on the end table next to him. He calmly separated them into two stacks and extended them to the person seated to his immediate left and right. Quillin and Herzfeld took the papers, noted that they were identical and extended the copies to the person seated to the side opposite to Eckhart.

“What’s this?” Chrisfield inquired as he took the paper.

“That is a report that was given to me by my Minister of Defense,” Eckhart reported with a point.

For nearly a minute, the group read the report in their hands without speaking a word. It was Repasky that broke the silence with a gruffly spoken declarative.

“This is incredible.”

What Repasky was declaring to be incredible was a one-page report on starcorp RG01. Everyone, there was aware of this newest starcorp. Its distant location was enough to give it notoriety among the heads of states on Earth. The official report that they received from BX01 regarding it was that RG01 was a spacecraft manufacturing plant that moonlighted as a Titan exploratory expedition. This made little sense to anyone that understood the logistics of space industries. It was commonly known that location was paramount when it came to large space factories. This is why all the other starcorp manufacturing plants were situated next to their greatest source of raw material, the asteroid belt. And since all starcorps were both merchant and patron to each other they consistently remained relatively close together. It was also well known that exploratory missions were conducted by spaceships. This was due to the enormous expense associated with sustaining the populace of a single starship.

Despite this deviation from the norm, few people on Earth gave any attention to this distant starcorp. However, this disinterest did not extend into space. The inhabitants of the starcorps were slow in their suspicions about this distant enterprise. But the quantity of people intrigued with it increased exponentially each year out from the first day of its conception. Nearly all the intelligence that Eckhart acquired came from casual conversations with starcorp personnel.

“This is conjecture,” Chrisfield disputed a second behind as he flagged the paper in front of him.

Chrisfield was referring to the hearsay nature of the report and the absences of any verified evidence.

“Do you have a better explanation for what’s going on out there?” Eckhart challenged softly.

Chrisfield had no ready response for this question. He knew, just as well as the others, that this starcorp had not made any sense until that moment. His hesitance was all that the others needed to give weight to Eckhart’s allegation. They all lowered their papers and looked to Eckhart with mildly astounded expression.

“The starcorps have no need to build a large space force,” Chrisfield argued after a brief silence. “They could easily render us militarily impotent with a first strike surprise bombardment from a small force of military spaceplanes. We have nothing in orbit to give us sufficient warning of an attack like that.”

“I have to agree with that,” Quillin supported with a flag of his hand. “A military buildup is unnecessary.”

“Then explain to me what this phantom starcorp around Titan is doing?” Repasky waved the report in front of him as he argued back with a look of incredulity.

“Just because we don’t know what RG01 is about that does not make this any less speculative,” Chrisfield countered with a shake of his head.

“This speculation fits like a glove,” Eckhart fired back.

“Just the same, it’s inconclusive,” Chrisfield insisted.

“The starcorps are engaged in a secret military buildup,” Eckhart retorted angrily. “There is no other explanation for the investment of so much money, material and manpower into an enterprise that has not produced any goods since its inception three years earlier.”

The logic in Eckhart’s remark was beyond the thinking of anyone there to challenge. For several seconds, they reflected inward on this idea that the starcorps were arming themselves for war with Earth. At the end of this time, Wegener spoke up with a question.

“But why Titan?”

“I’ll tell you why,” Eckhart spoke up calmly. “To keep it hidden from their own people. Because that’s the only way to keep it hidden from us.”

“Well, according to this,” Jacobson announced as he flagged his report over his head. “This is too much work for a bombing raid.”

“Their plan is not to bomb us,” Eckhart lectured with a glance about the room. “They don’t want to go back to a post-Third World War situation. Their plan is to control us.”

“You’re talking about an invasion,” Herzfeld surmised.

“Yes, that’s it,” Repasky insisted loudly. “They have to be constructing drop-ships, armored transports and whatever else they would need to support an incursion into Earth atmosphere. What else could they be doing?”

“This is all guesswork,” Chrisfield disputed with a wave of his hand.

“An invasion is the only thing that makes sense,” Repasky argued defensively. “They destroy our ground forces, bases and ports with a bombardment from space. And then they send in their ground forces in to secure the capitals.”

Everyone there understood the argument that Eckhart and Repasky were making. A war of annihilation would be a simple and cheap act for the starcorps to perform. A war of conquest would be decidedly more complex and expensive. This argument was a viable explanation for a secret military installation. This was made all the more valid by the fact that the States of Earth had no appreciable space force capable of threatening the starcorps.

“Precisely,” Eckhart supported an instant behind. “And if we’re going to prevent this from happening, then we’re going to need the means to take the fight to them—in space.”

“You’re talking about building up our own Space Forces,” Bessinger stated blandly.

“If we did that he starcorps will see us as a threat,” Quillin pointed out with a slight shake of his head.

“They already see us as a threat,” Repasky promptly corrected.

“This resolution of yours, Eckhart, is beginning to look more and more like a pretext for war.” Herzfeld pondered aloud with an inquisitive expression.

Eckhart took some offense to the accusation that he was pushing for war, but he kept this emotion in check, for the most part. After a hesitation, he looked towards Herzfeld with a slight scowl and gave his reply with a stern delivery.

“This resolution is our common cause. We need this to unite us.”

“This resolution may very well provoke the starcorps into attacking us,” Shin insisted.

“They won’t attack until they’re ready,” Eckhart countered. “And that report suggests that they won’t be ready for a further two years.”

Eckhart was referring to reports, from multiple sources, of orders and timetables that extended two years into the future.

“And what do you think they will do between now and then if we hit them with this resolution?” Quillin challenged.

“They will argue—they will negotiate, but that’s about it,” Eckhart predicted with a shrug. “They won’t attack us as long as they believe that we’re not a military threat.”

“I have no military experience, but I do believe a sudden buildup in weapons of war will look very threatening,” Shin retorted with an inflection of sarcasm.

“Not if we keep it a secret from them,” Eckhart countered with a hint of a smile.

Eckhart’s eight guests had mixtures of surprised and confused looks on their faces after hearing this idea from him. It was common knowledge to everyone on Earth, which was capable of mature thinking, that there was little they could keep secret from the starcorps. This perception was fixed into their mindset by the century-long practice of being spied upon from space by the starcorps. There were no large movements that the states could make that the starcorps could not detect from Earth orbit. The starcorps justified their continuous observation of the planet by declaring it a necessary utensil for maintaining peace on the planet. The Earth states had no reason to dispute this since their presence there did just that. No state was capable of launching a surprise attack against another while the starcorps were watching.

“And how do we do that?” Shin questioned back without the sarcasm.

“We do that, President Shin, by taking control of Earth Space,” Eckhart explained in a surprisingly casual manner.

Earth Space was defined as all space around the planet inside of High Earth Orbit. This easily included the orbit of the Moon.

“What makes you think that the starcorps will surrender control of Earth Space to us?” Chrisfield queried with nearly an expression of shock on his face.

All eyes were fixed on Eckhart in anticipation of his answer to that question. He paused to give gravity to the moment and then he spoke his answer with emphasized calm.

“Because they are obliged to.”

Everyone in the room knew that Earth Space, along with the moon and all space stations and satellites within it, were the property of the States of Earth. This point was agreed upon by the starcorps when they moved in to manage the Planetary System on the behalf of Earth. This they did shortly after the end of the Third World War. As part of their agreement to take control of all works in the planetary system, the starcorps agreed to surrender same to a United Earth Alliance or an association of one or more Earth Governments representing the majority of the planet’s population.

This agreement came into existence out of necessity. The Earth was in too much disarray politically, socially and economically to manage its affairs in space after the Third World War. This was made all the more problematic by the fact that the states of the newly fragmented world could not agree on who owned what. Eckhart knew that the United Front Pact brought the majority of Earth’s population under a single alliance and that he only needed to get them to agree to a joint plan of ownership. One-hundred years earlier this was a bone of extreme contention. Eckhart and the others in his study knew that this would probably be a minor issue to negotiate now, under this circumstance.

“Eckhart is right,” Repasky loudly endorsed. “They can’t refuse us. It’s in the agreement.”

It was already known to everyone there that the starcorps were be obliged to comply with this request from them. They were, as of the signing of the United Front Pact, an alliance that represented the majority of the Earth’s population. This fact made Eckhart’s military build-up doable as long as the starcorps complied with the terms of the agreement. But in the back of their minds, there was the concern that the starcorps would not do this. Not if they were truly plotting against them.

“I can’t agree to this,” Chrisfield declared after a pause.

“Nor can I,” Shin supported with a shake of his head. “The starcorps may be developing a military out there, but I don’t believe they’re planning an invasion. But by doing this, we could end up provoking a war.”

“We must normalize our relationship with the starcorps,” Chrisfield stressed as he directed his speech to all within the room. “And to do this, we must produce a resolution that the starcorps can live with. Their obligation to us does not end when we stand up on our feet. The resources—the knowledge—the skill that they have accrued over the past one-hundred plus years are rightfully ours as well, in part. I do not believe that they want a conflict with us. Sure, we have a right to take full control of Earth space. But is that the smart thing to do in light of this report. Gentlemen, we are at a fork in the road here. If we do what Eckhart wants, the starcorps will likely become distrustful of us. And this could lead to a disastrous end.”

Eckhart was unfazed by Chrisfield’s speech and he showed this in his expression. He took a brief pause to gauge the others. He noted that they had their reservations as well and would likely follow Chrisfield’s and Shin’s lead. At that moment, he came to the realization that he had to win the two of them to his side or lose all. At the end of his measure of the room, Eckhart focused his attention onto Chrisfield with a steely-eyed stare. And then he spoke in a soft, and menacing, tone of voice.

“You do know that if you don’t sign this we will be at odds.”

“We don’t have to be at odds,” Shin countered defensively. “We just have to come up with a softer resolution that we all can agree upon.”

“This is the resolution,” Eckhart dictated in a defiant voice. “I will not compromise on one word of it.”

“Eckhart,” Chrisfield implored with a hint of desperation in his tone. “It’s a lost cause. If we don’t sign on to this resolution, then no one will. You’ve got nothing.”

“Just the same, gentlemen,” Eckhart retorted with an earnest delivery. “I will pursue this resolution and you will pay a penalty for its failure.”

Eckhart paused to give gravity to this statement. However, this was not necessary. Everyone there knew that he carried more clout than all of them combined. The anti-starcorp movement was at a fever pitch since Hagerman’s resignation as the Prime Minister of Thames and his subsequent migration into a starcorp. As the most stalwart leader of the anti-starcorp community, and its most eloquent spokesperson, Eckhart was instantly elevated to the standing of the most powerful person on Earth. Politicians around the world could rise or fall with his approval or disapproval. His coattail enveloped the planet and everyone in this room knew it.

“I anticipate that a large percentage of your constituents will not be pleased by your refusal to support this resolution,” Eckhart continued while directing fierce glances about the room. “And I will make it my mission to end the political career any person in this room that does not sign on to this. And if you think I can’t do it then think about this—How do you think your constituents to act when they learn of this secret starcorp military buildup going on around Titan?”

Eckhart paused to allow that question time to sink into their thoughts. At the end of this period, he made one final comment.

“I will do everything within my power to destroy you.”

For the next thirty seconds, there was silence.