Ruap spread his hands. “It is hard to see how Indonesia can continue to work with its American partners on the Mass Driver Project, then. It is a great shame, given all the joint work and expenses that have been incurred to date. However, our friends in CoDevCo will help us bring the project to swift and successful completion.”
Sukhinin’s shoulders came forward sharply: “I can no longer sit here and watch this charade. This is not about UN preeminence, or a sixth bloc, or even your mass driver: this is an attempt to scare us into helping you improve Indonesia’s standing in the TOCIO bloc.”
The rapid change in topic disoriented Caine, but Ruap’s reaction told him that the Indonesian Finance Minister certainly felt the relevance of Sukhinin’s words. Ruap sat very erect, face impassive: “Mr. Sukhinin, your implications are an insult to my gov—”
Sukhinin waved his hand in the air as if he were brushing away a fly. “Gospodin Ruap, it is your government which insults us—by wasting our time and recruiting this vulture”—he jerked his head at Astor-Smath—“to help you in your petty bid for more power within the Trans-Oceanic Commercial and Industrial Organization. Let us speak plainly: Indonesia was disappointed when Japan acknowledged Brazil and India as its two most important partners in the TOCIO bloc. So here you are today, trying to prove them wrong by showing how much trouble you can make: leading your own bloc, getting access to CoDevCo’s big bank account and finishing the mass driver with their money. But tell me, if Tokyo called and said, ‘Oh, do not leave us: we were wrong not to recognize you as equal to Brazil and India,’ would you still be so eager to argue for a sixth bloc? It is all a farce, and the audience for whom you have staged it isn’t even here. They are sipping sake and, I hope, laughing at you. Bah.”
Ruap was still: his face had grown very dark. “Mr. Sukhinin, my nation shall remember your nation’s slander.”
Astor-Smath leaned into the space between them. “Gentlemen, please. These harsh words are unproductive and unbecoming. Let’s get back on track. Clearly, Admiral Corcoran and Mr. Sukhinin are not willing to recognize Indonesia’s leadership, or even the existence, of a sixth bloc. However, that doesn’t alter the fact that we have agreed to fund the completion of the Equatorial Mass Driver.”
Downing shrugged. “Mr. Astor-Smath, you might want to examine the history of the Mass Driver Project before you become overly sanguine about its completion. After talking about it for twenty years, Indonesia finally persuaded China to help with construction and funding. When Beijing withdrew from the project, America got involved. That was fourteen years ago, and it has now cost the Commonwealth’s governments and industrial investors about one hundred twelve billion c-dollars. I hope CoDevCo is prepared to take on that kind of job—and debt.”
“We are ready to do so—because we believe it is not only a good investment, but is an important step towards global economic and social equity. The mass driver will give Indonesia and its bloc a monopoly on low-cost, high-capacity launches to low Earth orbit.”
Caine watched Astor-Smath’s chin rise into his topic, recalled the bio: born in Wichita, then enrolled in private schools—from daycare onward—in Madrid, Rio, Hong Kong, Johannesburg. A thoroughly heterogeneous background: Anglo-American, Chinese, Indian, Afrikaans, Polish, Bantu. Astor-Smath was a man for all seasons—and a mercenary for all occasions.
“With the political leverage provided by the mass driver,” he was saying, “the Developing World can not only begin to compete in space commerce, but can pressure the Developed Nations to redress the imbalance of wealth throughout the globe.”
A different voice jumped into the pause in Astor-Smath’s speech: “I’m curious: at what point in the last twenty-four hours did you have a transforming moral epiphany?” Caine was somewhat surprised to find that the voice was his own.
“I beg your pardon?” Astor-Smath was not able to thoroughly mask his surprise. Nor was Nolan, who turned to look at Caine: his left eyebrow was raised, as well as the left corner of his mouth.
“Well, you see, just yesterday, I was listening to your apologetics for CoDevCo’s mistreatment of workers from the Developing and Undeveloped Nations. So I can’t help but wonder at what point in the last twenty-four hours you decided to become a crusader for those very same downtrodden peoples?”
“That is a separate matter. Those are isolated complaints—”
“Really? That doesn’t match up with what I’ve read recently. Your ghastly working conditions on gray worlds and asteroids are experienced almost solely by laborers from the Undeveloped World, whose contracts resemble letters of indentured servitude. You talk about the wonderful revenues they send back to their families, but thousands of those families have filed class-action suits complaining that the payments are already five years in arrears, and are reduced to pennies on the dollar after you subtract the life-support charges that were in the small—or would that be invisible?—print of the worker’s contract. So, since you don’t appear to have the money to pay your workers, I’m curious; how do you plan to finance the Mass Driver Project?”