Forge of War (Jack of Harts) (39 page)

“My God,” Malcolm whispered in shock, his eyes glittering with the idea of just how much money he could make.  Charles smiled.  He truly had the man.  Then Malcolm shook his head to clear it and let out a long breath.  “How long have you been planning this?”

Charles shrugged.  “Honestly, my entire adult life.  Contact made
all
of us look at the worlds differently.  I have spent the last
century
planning and helping people into positions where they could be ready when it came time to pull the trigger.”

Malcolm frowned and looked at Charles for several seconds.  “So why do you need
me
to be in charge?  Why aren’t
you
doing this?  Why did you…why are you
fighting
?” he finished in a tone that showed he really
did
want to know.

Charles sighed again.  “Because, no matter how much I planned, there were still some contacts I needed to make the plan possible.”

Charles turned to Dorothy and swallowed.  A part of him had hoped that Malcolm wouldn’t ask that question, but he’d known it was a possibility.  And whatever the cost, he wouldn’t lie.  He gritted his teeth in anticipation of her displeasure and spoke.  “I have studied Aneerin, Dorothy.  Anyone else would stop my plan if they discovered it.  I needed to contact him, to get his support, but he does not trust my family and would not meet me.  So I had to take…extraordinary measures to contact him,” he finished, keeping his gaze on her, and waited for her response.

He did not have to wait long.  She smiled.  “I know.”

Charles blinked in confusion.  He had expected…anger…
something
…for
using
her.  Not…
that
.  “What?”

Dorothy pulled in a deep breath and gave him a proud look.  “My mother studied you extensively before she chose you.”  Dorothy spread her hands out wide and her smile grew.  “I was born to help you.”

Charles felt his mouth fall open in surprise as he wondered just how much they knew.

“I love you.”

The words broke Charles out of his confusion and he turned to see Malcolm beaming at Dorothy, his face showing he meant all three words.  Charles’ eyes narrowed.

“Excuse me?” he growled.

Malcolm turned back to him with a smile.  “Seriously, do you know how long I’ve waited for someone to outthink you so profoundly that you’re
speechless
?” the man asked in an amused tone.  He turned back to Dorothy and waved a hand at her in a debonair manner.  “
Thank
you, my lady, for such an
amazing
sight.”

Charles saw Dorothy straighten in her seat and smile at Malcolm.  “You are welcome.”

Malcolm pulled in a long breath and sobered as he looked back to Charles.  He nodded in understanding.  “So…you’re willing to risk your own life to make this plan work?”

Charles swallowed before nodding back.  “Yes,” he said, keeping his response short and to the point.  Nothing more really needed to be said after all.

Malcolm nodded slowly, deep in thought.  “Then I’m in.  What do you need?”

Charles smiled at his old friend and collected his thoughts.  “I need freighters and transports, rugged ones that can take a hit and keep on flying.  They have to be at
least
first generation gravtech.  Rockets will not fly where they are going.”

Malcolm nodded in understanding.  “Got it.”

“I also need supplies.  At least one full class one colonization package.  No cutting corners on that regard.”

Malcolm nodded in agreement.  “Yeah.”

“I need man portable small arms, security AIs, and fighters.  Maybe even some combat ships if we can find them.  Most systems have old patrol boats that they were looking to unload on some private corporation back before Yosemite.  I honestly do not know if any still are.  I do have contact information for the places I was planning on purchasing from though.  Some may still be willing.”

Malcolm nodded and gave him a sly smile.  “I might be able to find something.  Weapons are going to be tough now of course.  How…aggressive do you want to be about getting them?”

Charles shook his head, recognizing the real question.  “We can not afford to hurt The War effort.  Nothing that is going to the military can be touched.”

Malcolm nodded.  “Understood.  We can’t get top line equipment then.  The best I can manage with that restriction is old surplus stuff that nobody wants anymore.”

Charles smiled.  “I guess that makes me nobody then.”

Malcolm laughed at the joke.  Then he paused and tapped his chin for a few moments as his eyes flickered back and forth in thought.  “I remember some old first generation gravtech fighters that were up for sale a few months back.  I think they were Blackhawks.  I can see if the seller has more he’d like to unload.”

“Please do.”

Malcolm nodded slowly and considered Charles for a long moment.  “Knowing you, you have plans in very complete detail saying what you need and where you need it.”

Charles smiled.  “I do.”  Then he shrugged.  “Of course, I never planned for Yosemite though, which makes things…difficult.”

Malcolm pursed his lips.  “Maybe not.”

Charles cocked his head to side.  “What do you mean?”

Malcolm shrugged.  “It’ll be harder to get the equipment, what with The War, but it will be easier to hide what we’re doing from your father.”

Charles smiled in approval at how Malcolm’s mind worked.  “Very true.”

Malcolm held a hand out.  “Well, if you’ll give your files, I can get started working on this.”

Charles turned back to Dorothy with a smile.  “Dorothy?”

Dorothy gave him a curious look.  “Yes?”

Charles let out a long breath.  “Could you send him the appropriate files?”

Dorothy blinked and cocked her head to the side, examining him for several seconds.  “I am afraid I have never accessed those files, Charles.  They are behind a wall.”

Charles smiled.  “Well then, I suppose you will just have to go through the wall.”

One of Dorothy’s eyebrows rose.  “Are you certain?”

Charles nodded.  “Yes.”

Dorothy pulled in a long breath and her holoform flickered for a moment.  “Wow,” she whispered, her tone impressed.  “You had a good AI running your privacy screen.”

Charles frowned.  “Had?” he asked in a concerned tone.

Dorothy shrugged.  “Well, she actually trapped me and then began trying to shred my code.  I really could
not
allow that.”

“Oops,” Charles whispered with a wince.  “I forgot she was supposed to do that.”

Dorothy smiled and brought a hand up to pat the pocket of his jacket that held his private personal computer.  “Well, no worries.  That instance of her program will never get another chance to do
anything
.  I took the liberty of replacing her with more secure privacy code.  I hope you do not mind?”

Charles shook his head rubbed his temple in amazement.  “You realize that was the best privacy AI my family has ever written?”

Dorothy’s smile took on a proud look.  “Yes.  I do.”  Then she blinked in surprise.  “Charles.  There are millions of folders here, each one named a different random number.”

Charles chuckled.  “Well then.  Maybe you should not have destroyed that privacy AI.  She had the algorithm.  Now you will just have to scan every folder the old fashioned way,” he said with a wicked grin.

Dorothy gave him a disapproving frown.  “Am I going to find any nasty surprises in there?”

Charles sighed.  “Well, my diary is there.”  He smiled at her.  “I may have admitted my true feelings for you in there.”

Dorothy’s eyes narrowed.  “Fine,” she finally whispered.  Then her holoform flickered again and she stepped back from him in alarm.  “Ouch!  There are
data
mines on that thing!”

“Oops,” Charles repeated and let out a sigh.  “I suppose you should hurry then.  If you activated one of
them
, the automatic
scram
program would have kicked in.  You only have seconds to save the data before it is
all
gone.”

“Do not look so smug,” she returned in a tart tone.  “I have already disabled that program.”

Charles shook his head in surprise.  “Well, I guess that proves I was right.  I always thought it was stupid not to hire a cyber to encrypt our information.  Now I
know
it was.”

Dorothy gave him another smug smile.  “I have found the files.”  She pointed an arm at Malcolm.  “Transmitting now.”

Malcolm’s suit beeped and he looked at the display on the inside of one sleeve.  He pressed a button, accepting the file transfer, and nodded.  “Thank you, my lady,” he said, came to his feet, and smiled towards Dorothy.  “I think I’ll take my leave now and let you two talk.  I detect a need to,” he finished with a wicked grin and turned to leave, his long legs taking him back to the flower lined footpath with meter-consuming strides.

“Thank you,” Charles called out to the retreating figure.

Malcolm waved back at them, stepped over the flowers, and strode down the footpath to pass through the gate onto Upper Baker Street.  Silence filled the space between Charles and Dorothy, and Charles breathed in and out.

Dorothy broke the silence.  “You could have just told me which files to send him,” she whispered.  “You could have sent them
yourself
.  You could have kept your secrets.”

Charles smiled.  “Yes.  I
could
have,” he answered in a serene tone.  He held a hand up between them, palm up, and looked at her.

She returned his look, smiled, and brought her hand up to lay in his, an intrigued expression on her face.

Charles squeezed her hand, pleased at the feeling of solidity it had here.  “But secrets are kept from those we do not trust.”

Dorothy’s smile grew soft and she squeezed his hand in response.  “And the things you said in your diary?”

Charles sighed.  “All true.”

“Good,” Dorothy said with a swift nod.  “I would hate to see you lying to yourself.”

Charles smiled and came to his feet, still holding her hand.  “Would you care to walk?”

“I would love to,” Dorothy answered and came to her feet with a graceful motion.

Charles pulled in a deep breath as they turned and began to walk through the flower gardens of 221 Upper Baker Street, four centuries in the past.  It was amazing to be considering the future of the human race in that scene with a beautiful lady his side.  It was a very pleasing way to walk.

Jack looked out on the well-dressed college students filling the Pav with their expectant looks.  They weren’t friends, he doubted they ever
would
be, but they were friendly.  That had surprised him.  He’d expected them to dislike him after what he did to their fellow student.  He’d underestimated the decency of the student body in general though, as they’d left their fellow student a pariah for his attempted drugging and welcomed Jack to their parties ever since.

He really hadn’t expected to play in public again, and yet here he sat on a chair on stage, at their request.  It wasn’t a secret that the fleet was leaving soon, and Samantha had bragged about his singing far more than he really liked.  But that left him no real choice.  He strummed the acoustic guitar, hearing the sound echoing off the bar’s far walls.  The sound of fingers on strings monopolized their attention, and the whispered murmurs faded away into near silence as he began to play a familiar tune.  On New Earth, it was a popular drinking song.  Back home in Minnesota, it had different words.

The words he knew tumbled out, the song one of joy and celebration and fun.  He sang of a beach on a lake, moonlight glinting off the waves.  He sang of a bonfire, friends singing and dancing and drinking around it.  He sang about dancing with girls, and fighting with jealous boyfriends.  He sang about karaoke girls, and drinking way too much.  He sang about fistfights, and howling at the moon.

Through it all, he strummed the guitar, holding onto it like an old friend, and used its familiar sound to pull him through the song.  The song had been popular for many years back home, sung in celebration of life.  Jack sung it as a memorial to his friends who weren’t around anymore, closing his eyes part way through the song, and the melancholy in his voice took it over.  His mourning filled the room through to the final strum of the guitar.

Silence ruled the room and Jack opened his eyes to see young men and women staring at him.  New Earth had seen nothing like Yosemite, but in that moment he saw they understood the loss.  A silence filled the Pav, and he’d seen enough of them to know that this was one of the good ones.  It stretched on, the audience reliving the emotions of the song, and Jack came to his feet in the thunderous silence.  He hung the guitar in the place reserved for it and stepped away, each fall of his boots echoing across the room.

Jack stepped off the stage with a tip of his cowboy hat and ambled into the well-dressed crowd as they began to murmur.  He chose not to focus on their words, granting them the privacy their hushed voices craved, and cut through the crowd to sit down at the table he shared with Samantha.

Samantha smiled and patted the arm he laid on the table in a proud manner.  “I
said
you could do it,” she whispered low enough that it barely carried to his ears over the growing murmurs.

Jack shrugged.  “Never said I couldn’t.  Just that I don’t like singing for strangers.”

Samantha held his hand.  “And who are all of
these
people?”

Jack sighed.  “Not strangers anymore, suppose. 
Your
friends.  So I suppose they’re somewhere in between for me.”

Samantha cocked her head to the side and chewed her lip.  “Is it really that simple?”

Jack nodded.  “Nothing simple about it really.  But New Churchill College is the world you live in.  If I can’t be comfortable in it, I don’t have any place in it,” he finished with a reassuring smile.

Samantha stretched a hand out and grasped his with an approving smile.  “You always say the right thing,” she whispered.

Jack patted her hand with his free one.  “I try.”

Samantha pulled in a long breath, gave him an examining look, and one side of her mouth curled upward.  “Would you like to continue trying on the way home?”

Jack’s eyes widened in interest.  “Why, Ma’am, I thought you’d never ask,” he said as he rose to his feet with all the grace he could muster in New Earth’s heavy gravity, and offered to help her to her feet.

She accepted his help, not he was certain because she needed it, but because it gave him an excuse to rest his hand on the waist of her simple black dress.  A shock ran through both of them as his hand touched her and her smile turned flirtatious.  “Well, lead on, Sir,” she returned and leaned into him.

They made their way towards the door like that, the crowd filling the Pav making way for them without protest.  They stepped into the night and Jack looked up to see that even the second sun was beginning to fall towards the horizon.  They’d been in the Pav for many hours this evening.  Considering how long it took Samantha to talk him into finally performing, he supposed that wasn’t a big surprise.

Jack bestowed his best charming smile on her.  “Would my Lady prefer a ride in a car or a walk through the city?”

She raised her eyebrows and looked up through her red bangs at him.  “Well, I’m thinking it would take longer to walk home, right?” she asked with a pat on his arm.

Jack’s every hair stood on end with anticipation and he realized that getting her home was foremost on his mind.  He bent down to whisper in her ear.  “Excruciatingly longer.”  He felt a shiver run through her body and gave her a beaming smile. 

She patted his arm again, sending his heart jumping into his throat.  “I vote for a walk then,” she said with a sly smile.  She truly had the ability to throw him for a loop whenever she wanted to.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he answered with all the air of a gentleman, pulled in a deep breath, and turned to escort her towards home.  They walked down the sidewalk, his arm wrapped around her body, hand resting on her waist in a very familiar way that was decidedly
un
gentlemanly.  She didn’t protest.

They made some small talk on their way, about the trees lining the streets, the architecture of the buildings on either side, and even the cars that swooped down out of the sky to park in front of the stores outside the college campus.  They talked about people and dogs too, pointing out the old dogs from the new dogs.  Sometimes it was easy to see the intelligence behind their eyes, sometimes they did a perfect job of acting like an old dog, even fooling the other dogs.  Watching them, he understood why they did that.  It was their way of keeping in touch with their world, so they wouldn’t forget where they came from.

And that was it.  He blinked at the realization that he really didn’t have any choice anymore.  He’d lost his anchor to his world when Yosemite fell, when his home died.  He
had
to put down new roots or he would forget…everything that mattered.  For the first time, he truly understood why cybers did what they did, and that understanding filled him with determination.  He let out a long breath and examined Samantha again.

She recognized the shift in his feel and her emerald eyes lifted to return his gaze.  “Yes?”

Jack smiled at her.  “Well, there’s been something I’ve been thinking about for a while,” he finally said.

She smiled back, mischievous glint in her eyes.  “I know,” was her only answer.

Jack sighed.  She could be difficult when she knew she had the upper hand.  Which as it happened was most of the time.  “First, I need to ask you…if you could be in two places at once…if you could follow both your duty and your…well…the rest of you…would you?”

Samantha blinked before resting her head against his chest again.  “I don’t know.  Could you be clearer about the situation?”

Jack glared at her.  “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

Samantha chuckled and shook her head.  “If easy’s what you want, you’re taking the wrong walk.”

Jack sighed and nodded.  “True” he whispered and pulled in a long breath.  He let it out again, set his jaw, and met her gaze.  “Look, I’m leaving and there’s nothing I can do to stop that.”  Then he smiled as words came to mind.  “If there was no War, I would stay right here though.”

Samantha shook her head.  “If there was no War, you never would have
come
here.”

Jack nodded and squeezed her in a comforting manner.  “True.”  She was completely correct.  He would still be at home without Yosemite, still just enjoying life on the lake.  He’d never felt an urge to leave Earth before.  Not even Minnesota.  After all, what reason
was
there to leave paradise?

After nearly a minute of silence, Samantha sighed again, pushing herself against his body.  “What’s your
real
question, Jack?”

Jack smiled and let out a long breath.  “Do you want me to stay, Sam?”

Samantha sighed and he felt the helplessness in her posture.  “Yes.  And no.”

Jack squeezed her again.  “Why?”

Samantha shrugged and shook her head.  “I…I don’t want you to go, Jack.  But…I don’t want you…abandoning your brothers either.”

Jack let out another long breath and patted her waist.  It was the answer he’d been hoping for.  “What if I could stay here…
and
go too?”

Samantha stiffened in his arm for a moment before her eyes lifted to meet his again, confusing on her face.  “How?” was the only word that slipped from her lips.

Jack just smiled.  “Betty?”

A hologram of Jack appeared, walking on the other side of her.

Samantha looked at the hologram, then turned to Jack with a raised eyebrow and an unamused expression.  “You’re going to fly off to war and leave me with a
hologram
?” she asked in a very pointed manner that
demanded
an explanation quickly.

Jack cleared his throat.  “Um…no.  Though I see where that came from.”  He let out a long breath and bit the bullet.  “There’s this Peloran technology that…well…you know how good they are at analyzing brain waves?  Finding parts of the brain that don’t work right and fixing them?”

Samantha nodded.  “One of my classmates was born…brain damaged.  He gets straight As now.”

Jack nodded.  “Exactly.  Well, reading and fixing isn’t all they can do.”  He pulled in a deep breath.  “They can also
save
them.”

Samantha blinked and cocked her head to the side again.  “
Save
them?”

Jack smiled.  “Every memory, every emotion, everything that makes us human, they can save it all.  Just like a cyber.”

Samantha’s eyes flicked back and forth as she considered that idea.  “Why haven’t I heard of this before?” she finally asked.

Jack shrugged.  “Because the main thing they use it for is to restore the memories of soldiers who’ve suffered brain damage in battle.”

“And we’ve never seen them fight until now,” Samantha whispered with a frown.

“Exactly.”  Jack cleared his throat then.  “The thing is, a long time ago, they actually made cybernetic copies of people.  They stopped because of …
difficulties
.”

Samantha stopped walking and looked up at Jack with wide emerald eyes.  “Why are you telling me this, Jack?”

Jack swallowed and cleared his throat again.  “Well, I
might
be able to get someone to rethink the reasons they don’t do it.”  He licked his lips, betraying his nerves.  “If I could, would you be interested?”

She studied him carefully and placed her free hand on his chest.  It felt like electricity running over his skin and his heart raced.  All of his attention was focused on her, she was the only point of existence in all the worlds that meant anything in that moment, and she was all he saw.

She smiled and opened her mouth.

A cry of shock escaped it as somebody ripped her away from him.  Jack felt his focus shift back to normal, then far
beyond
normal, and everything snapped into existence.  In a moment, he scanned the shadows on the edge of the sidewalk and determined them empty of any other souls.  He ran the last few seconds through his mind, sight and smells and sound, and only the ragged hearts of three individuals existed.  He could differentiate the smells of three bodies and assorted nearby animals.  And rain.  It was going to rain soon.  The important part was that the heartbeat had no backup.  His mistake.

Jack focused on the mugger, still moving back with a hand wrapped around Samantha’s neck and the other bringing a gun around towards her.  A pistol.  Jack reached down to grab the man’s rising wrist with one hand, taking control of the gun, and lashed up with the palm of his other hand, shattering the mugger’s nose.  The mugger uttered a muffled cry of pain as he released Samantha, cut off when Jack struck his throat.  The mugger gasped in pain, desperate for a clear breath, blinking his eyes against the stars in them.  Jack brought his knee up into the man’s groin, forcing a silent cry of pain from the man’s tortured throat.  Jack stepped back, kicked him in the knee, and watched the man fall to the ground in a gurgling, bleeding mess.

Jack pulled the man’s fingers away from the gun, being careful not to touch it with his fingers.  He really didn’t want to leave fingerprints after all.  A swift kick of his boot sent the pistol skittering away in a safe direction, away from everybody involved.

The threat ended, he stepped over to where Samantha had fallen on the sidewalk and went down on one knee.  “Are you alright?” he asked, moving a hand to touch her.