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that gravitated to men of his powerful position, mentally catalogued the rest of the staffers, as their now-unintentionally-risqué appearance would give him something to look forward to—and take full advantage of—later that day.
    To one of those women in particular, he caught with an eye and motioned her over. The staffer walked over smartly, her skirt shifting back and forth with the cadence of her long legs. She moved close enough to Thompson for him to catch a whiff of her cologne, and said, “Yes, sir?”
    “Gail, make yourself available for debriefing tonight,” Thompson said casually. “And put in a call for the President. See if Miss Vaughn is aboard.” Gail nodded and smiled knowingly, turned and started to walk away, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Thompson, looking past her at the other staffers, said, “Tell Meryl to join us at debriefing, too.” Gail’s expression barely shifted, but she proceeded away a bit more briskly when he finally released her shoulder.
    While he had spoken to Gail, the first of the Presidential transports had arrived outside of the reception area. It was a tram car much like others in Verdant, but reserved for High House staff only and built a bit more heavily in deference to protecting the President. The secret service agents quickly checked the vehicle, and then signaled for the President and the Chief of Staff to enter. Lambert and Thompson climbed into the vehicle, and before the door closed, another of the male staffers stepped up to the vehicle. “I have the report on the present state of Verdant.” Thompson motioned him inside with them. Once he was inside, the door was closed, and the tram moved off for the Presidential Compound. Other trams pulled up to ferry the rest of the staff along with them.
    As they moved through subsurface railways, heading for the open air beyond the bays, the staffer took an electronic tablet from his breast pocket, a government-issue model with a brushed nickel case. He brought his tablet up and waited for a sign that the President and Thompson were ready for his report, then began: “Just as we were arriving, Verdant CnC declared Level four conservation restrictions satellite-wide. That’s basically minor rationing of water and staples, and temporary shutdown or cutbacks in select energy use. The number of already-cancelled freight deliveries means they are going to have to shut down at least three full manufacturing plants, and sections of a few others, possibly for the duration of the crisis. U.N. reports of their stores suggest they can go without supplies from Earth for at least a month, then they’ll have to go to Level three restrictions. All senior personnel are aboard, and they are not listing a shortage of required personnel in any area.”
    “How are the people taking the news?” Lambert asked.
    “A few grumbles,” the staffer replied. “No one likes even Level four restrictions. You’ll hear some howling when they go to three, but mostly from the upper-level executives.”
    After a moment, Lambert nodded, and the staffer lowered his tablet. Lambert glanced at Thompson. “Along with everything else, as long as the satellites can’t get raw stocks, we’ll be losing the goods they ship down. That’s an extra hit on our economy.”
    “We might want to keep that in mind, if we need leverage for anything,” Thompson agreed. “We might need to stay here for awhile. And given the conditions of things on the ground, we can expect to be involved in some serious negotiations in the near future.” He glanced over to the staffer, who was poised ready to bring his tablet back up if needed. Thompson shook his head, and the staffer lowered the tablet.
    Meanwhile, Lambert was nodding. “The immigration restrictions,” he intoned. “This is going to qualify as a crisis mode. It will be impossible for the U.N. to deny us the right to negotiate higher quotas for the satellites. We’ll need them as sanctuaries for as