sophomore in college, she was one of the charter members of the Economic Justice Association and her work on their Senate-sponsored mission to the Aphrodite colony—which provided the material for her master’s thesis on colonial policy—brought international attention to the problems with forced relocation.
“Today, on the eve of an historic tour of the star colonies, she has been asked to speak to this body on that same subject, in preparation for extensive hearings which will be conducted upon her return next year.” O’Keefe paused, a smile spreading across his face. “And beside all that, I’m proud to say that she’s my daughter. I now present to you Ms. Valerie O’Keefe.”
Val stood and walked up to the podium, pausing to kiss her father on the cheek.
“Knock ’em dead, honey,” he whispered, giving her arm a squeeze before he took his seat.
“Thank you.” Val nodded to the clapping audience, waiting for them to quiet down. When they did, she took a deep breath and plunged headlong into her address without preamble.
“Throughout human history,” she began, “technology has offered salvation to mankind in many different forms, from nuclear power to the current Eysselink stardrive. But scientific apples from the Tree of Knowledge often threaten to bring about a fall from the very Garden of Eden they promise.
“With the technology to produce nuclear and fusion power came the horrible weapons which very nearly destroyed us all at the opening of this century. With the space travel that offered us the resources and energy we so desperately needed in the last few decades came the competition for those resources which sparked the Sino- Russian War and the resultant, devastating nuclear exchange between the two power blocs.” Above her a hologram coalesced into the bodiless visages of Sergei Pavlovich Antonov and his Chinese counterpart, Xiang Li Peng. Xiang’s face was the chubby, pleasant countenance of a grandfather, hiding the xenophobic paranoia that led him to a confrontation with the Russian Republic. Antonov, conversely, had the classic features of a conqueror: the aquiline nose, the storm-grey eyes and the imperious mustache that befitted the self-described Napoleon of Eastern Europe.
“And now,” she continued as the images faded, “technology has offered us salvation yet again in the form of the Eysselink stardrive. It has truly given us the stars, and ensured that no single disaster will destroy the human race. But this technological rose, too, has its thorns. With the capacity to discover the hidden wonders of the universe, to harness incredible sources of energy and raw material for the advancement of the human race, we have instead turned the colonies into a dumping ground for the poor and politically undesirable.
“Unwilling to solve the problems which cause poverty and discontent, we choose instead to shove our problems out of sight, where they won’t bother our consciences. In the past ten years, over twenty million involuntary emigrants have been shipped to the least hospitable of the colony worlds by Southbloc and Eastbloc nations. They have not been shipped there for their own benefit, but for the benefit of these governments. They have been given no economic aid beyond a pitifully small emigration bonus, but they have been abandoned to the elements in places more extreme and alien than any on Earth.
“Two years ago, I travelled to the Aphrodite colony as a part of an Economic Justice Association mission to investigate the treatment of forced emigrants, and to research my master’s thesis on this issue. There, I was introduced to the Mendoza family, Jorge and Carmella, and their two children, Anna and Elisabeth.”
At this, another hologram snapped to life, high above the Senate floor, of a Hispanic couple and two small children, all dressed in little more than rags.
“Jorge and Carmella were forcibly relocated three years ago from El Salvador, where they had been living on welfare for the previous year due to the depressed economic conditions in that state, and the obsolescence of Jorge’s former occupation as a small farmer. Now that formerly proud and efficient farmer has been dumped on a hundred acres of the most desolate wasteland I have ever seen.”
The hologram panned out over an expanse of ruddy desert, baking under the white-hot rays of Tau Ceti, then returned to the shot of the Mendozas.
“When they were told they were being sent to Aphrodite, Jorge and Carmella immediately thought of the beautiful land of the travel holos, thought they had been most fortunate. But that paradise is restricted to the planet’s temperate southern hemisphere. The northern hemisphere is an arid wasteland, with an average temperature of thirty-five degrees Celsius and an annual rainfall of less than ten centimeters.
“To fortify them against this desert, the Mendozas were generously provided with two buildfoam huts and access to a public well five kilometers away. When I met them, Jorge and Carmella were barely eking out an existence, making only enough to buy a pitifully small quantity of seed each season.” She shot a glance at the hologram, a frown passing over her face.
“How old do they look to you? Forty-five? Fifty? They’re both twenty-five in this picture. This is what life in the hellish Aphrodite desert has done to them. And the tragedy is that they really are among the lucky ones. Aphrodite, north or south, is one of the more hospitable of the exile colonies. On other worlds, these political exiles are left, in effect, to die in environments barely habitable by humans.” A sob seemed to creep into her voice for just an instant. “The infant mortality rate on Loki alone is over forty percent!
“How can we, who consider ourselves civilized, who think of ourselves as the pinnacle of evolution, who call ourselves the most advanced culture in human history, allow this tragedy to occur? How can you, the trustees of our race, the representatives of all humanity, allow this to happen?
“During the research for my thesis, I also visited colonies in the Belt, on Mars and in the Jovians. Conditions there are also harsh, and death is an everyday reality, but there is a difference. The colonists in our Solar System are all volunteers, out of necessity—certain skills are required for admission to these colonies, and a trust is required to preserve the colony. But this natural restriction does not affect the star colonies, and certain members of our international community have taken advantage of this to rid themselves of political and economic embarrassments.” Her face and voice grew progressively sterner, like a fundamentalist preacher decrying the wages of sin.
“This crime against the most helpless members of the human race will not go unpunished. Already, we are reaping its rewards. The uprisings on Inferno and Loki have claimed countless innocent lives, staining the hands of our military with civilian blood.”
Oops, Glen thought, playing a little fast and loose with the facts there. Still, he’d done worse in a few speeches he’d written for the Senator.
“What will our response to this be?” Valerie continued. “Will we finally attempt to eliminate the root cause of the unrest, the unfair and inhuman policy of political and economic exile? Or will we merely repeat the mistakes of the past and use these instances of violence as an excuse to build up a military whose sole purpose is the repression of our fellow citizens?
“The choice is yours, ladies and gentlemen. You can be remembered as the generation that brought the human race to a new moral and ethical height, or you can be vilified as just another bunch of greedy, self-serving politicians. You have the power to make history.” She swept through the crowd with a piercing gaze, and Glen imagined that each one probably felt she was looking at them. “It is not a power to be taken lightly.
“Thank you very much for allowing me to come and address you today.”
Val turned and left the platform as abruptly as she’d begun.
The first one to stand, of course, was her father, but he was quickly joined by nearly everyone in the auditorium, with the notable exception of a few Eastbloc and Southbloc delegates. But even they applauded, and the thunderous ovation echoed off the auditorium’s dome like a cloudburst that washed over Val as she sat down next to Glen.
“You,” Glen mouthed to her, “are absolutely incredible.”
She kissed him, smiling gratefully. She seemed to be entertaining a good case of post-speech shakes, and Glen didn’t think she even noticed the proud smile on her father’s face—or Vice President Lopez quietly slipping out of the building’s rear exit.
Probably sneaking off to report to President Jameson, Glen snorted. Go ahead, Mulrooney taunted him silently. Go tell your boss his days are numbered.
A gentle spring rain fell quietly on the manicured grass of Senator O’Keefe’s country estate outside Calgary, Alberta. Daniel O’Keefe leaned against his porch railing and watched the night, silently nursing the last glass from the bottle of twenty-year-old Scotch he had broken out earlier that day to celebrate Val’s speech.
Val had gone to bed an hour ago, exhausted by her first bout with the Republic Senate, and Glen had joined her soon after, at Senator O’Keefe’s insistence. He chuckled quietly to himself. They’d been engaged for almost two
