The Unincorporated Future (40 page)

“Zenobia”—Trang’s brow shot up as his eyes sparkled in surprise—“you were a thruster bum?”

“And a damn good one, Admiral.”

Trang laughed. “What the hell. We’re screwed if J.D. attacks now anyways, you might as well go where you can do some good.”

“’Preciate it, sir. What do I owe you?”

Trang was taken slightly aback. “You don’t owe me a thing.”

“Not for this, sir—the bet.”

“Ah. Tell ya what. If you manage to find a nice Martian pinot, I’d be most obliged.”

“Least I can do.”

Executive loading bay
Ceres

The transportation artery of the Via Cereana was alight. Emitters usually reserved for throwing holographic advertisements or instructions to pilots were now being used to create something entirely different—a fireworks display for the conquering hero. The
Warprize II
shuttle, alone and awash in the lambent light of the show, floated serenely toward the landing bay as throngs of viewers waved the small vessel on. Katy sat on J.D.’s lap, joyfully pointing toward every explosive burst of color. To the excited little girl, each plume seemed more spectacular than the next. The child’s glee was so infectious that she soon had J.D. pointing and shouting as well.

When the shuttle doors finally opened and J.D. appeared, the crowded loading bay erupted into convulsions of cheers and shouting. If J.D. was concerned that the cacophony might frighten her child, she was relieved to see that it hadn’t. Far from being frightened, Katy seemed enraptured. She took in her new surroundings with wide, bright eyes and then looked back up toward her Mama Bo, beaming with pride. There was real joy in being able to give Katy such happiness, but it was also in that moment that J.D. realized why she liked having people around who didn’t look at her that way. Like Marilynn, Sandra, and even Amanda. But right now, noticed J.D., the only thing the President was looking at her with was relief. J.D. bent down to give her daughter a hug.

“I’ve got to go do this thing now.”

“I know, Mommy Bo.”

“Be a good listener.”

Katy looked up at Fatima, who nodded. “I know, Mommy Bo. Your thing.”

J.D. tilted her head to the side.

“It’s waiting.” Katy then pointed over to the dais, where the dignitaries were waiting rather patiently, watching them. J.D. smiled warmly and walked across the bay to where the President was standing and gave her a perfect salute. J.D. was pleased when Sandra returned the salute with acceptable formality. Then the damnable woman ruined it by giving her a bear hug. As uncomfortable as J.D. found it, the crowd roared its approval.

At long last, the Blessed One had returned. J.D. was home.

I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself, ladies and gentlemen. The President of the Outer Alliance, Sandra O’Toole, has just greeted the Blessed One on her return from the biggest victory of the war with a salute and a hug. Now, that’s something Justin would never have done.

But the best moment might have been when the President greeted J.D.’s daughter, Katy, with a smile and a present, which Katy ripped open after an exasperated nod from the fleet admiral. Close-ups show the present to be a scale model of Alliance One, the Presidential transport. Is it just me, or wouldn’t a doll or a stuffed animal have seemed to be a more appropriate gift for a little girl? Not Katy, though—either she’s the best six-year-old actor in history or she truly loved it.

After a stump speech welcoming home the fleet, the President took the Blessed One’s party up to the Cliff House. The bad news is no reporters were allowed to follow. The good news, dear listeners and viewers, is that I have been granted an interview with the President later this afternoon. Stay tuned for all the details!

—
The Clara Roberts Show
Alliance Independent Radio (AIR) Network

The Triangle Office
Ceres

The newly promoted grand admiral stared down the two TDCs blocking her entrance into the Triangle Office. She tried every which way to get past the door without having to submit to a scan and was relieved to fail in all of them. Sergeant Holke and Corporal Langer weren’t budging an inch, and that obdurateness was at least somewhat satisfactory—especially given the most recent fiasco. She finally submitted to the scan, and they happily let her through.

Once the door closed silently behind her, J.D. marched up to the desk Sandra was sitting behind and, giving a perfunctory salute, let loose with a torrent of pent-up anger.

“How dare you almost get yourself killed! Do you realize how much this Alliance needs you? How could you almost be removed by a two-bit conspiracy, and how come your security is not tighter? This place should be a fortress! I should be seeing guards stationed at
every
corridor, and no one—I mean, not one person—should be walking around without an escort by trusted and vetted security personnel!”

Sandra’s tawny eyes glimmered with pleasure. “So does that mean you’re glad to see me?”

“Alive, yes.”

“Thanks.”

“This is serious. You’re too important to die … at least not just yet.”

“I know. It may not look like it, but we’ve improved security greatly since the coup attempt. But why are
you
getting so upset about it? It was me they tried to mail back to Earth, remember?”

J.D. seemed to deflate and collapsed into the chair behind her. “I walked into this office once when it was empty,” she said, and grew silent as a shadow crossed her face.

Sandra got up and, coming around her desk, placed her hand softly on J.D.’s shoulder. “I will be more careful, Janet, I promise.”

J.D., once more fully herself, couldn’t resist a bit more scolding. “Do you know how long it takes to train a good President? I do not have time to break another one in.”

“I can imagine,” Sandra answered with an impish grin, and took a seat on the couch. “But I won’t turn the Alliance into a police state, and I will not become afraid of every person who might walk through that door. I can’t be President like that.”

“You can’t be President if you’re dead, either,” J.D. complained, twisting toward her President.

“Cut me some slack, Janet. After all, it
was
two of the most trusted Cabinet secretaries who organized this.”

J.D. sighed, nodding her head. “Truth.”

“Please,” she said, indicating that J.D. should take the opposite couch as she went to the bar. “Can I get you something?”

“Something to drink, I guess,” answered J.D., switching to the more comfortable couch.

“A drink or a
drink
?”

“Although Allah is most merciful and I doubt even the Prophet himself would begrudge me, I think it’s best to have a drink with a small
d
, if it’s all the same.”

“Tomato juice with lemon all right?”

J.D. nodded.

Sandra came around with the two identical drinks. “To an unlikely pair of conspirators,” she said, lifting her glass with a bemused smile.

J.D. laughed. “Indeed. We really should talk about Sinclair and McKenzie as well.”

“And the avatars.”

“Right.” J.D.’s eyes looked around the room. “Can they hear us now?”

“Not in here and certainly not without my approval, but it’s always good to ask. Speaking of which, have you met yours yet?”

“Yes,” answered J.D. “I’m afraid I have.”

“Must’ve been an interesting conversation.”

“You can say that,” said J.D., thinking back on the floating socks and bread rolls, “but I think we should talk about the true conspirators first.”

“I’m pretty sure we are.”

Alliance Avatar Council Chamber
Cerean Neuro

Though they were all polite about it, Marilynn couldn’t help but notice the occasional furtive glances toward the empty chair. Of the four avatars present, she was pretty sure she hadn’t made much of an impression on two. She certainly understood where the disdain was coming from; she’d toppled a god and had done so with irrefutable evidence.

Marilynn finished reading the incident report the Council had only just received from their investigative team and understood their looks of dismay. “I need to get your take on this,” she said, “before I bring it back to my President.”

“We were led by a madman,” answered Gwendolyn. “What other take is there?”

“We don’t know that for sure,” said Lucinda through gritted teeth.

“He disobeyed a direct order of this Council,” countered Gwendolyn, “and attempted to kill the President of the Human Alliance, her liaison”—Gwendolyn motioned toward Marilynn—“and a TDC. How much more ‘sure’ do you need?”

“The humans,” said Marcus, “did that to themselves”—he also shot a quick glance toward Marilyn—“mostly.”

Gwendolyn shook her head in disbelief. “Aside from the splitting, he intervened, he lied to us, he falsified data readings and jeopardized our relationship with the
one
human whom we most needed to trust us. The human, I might add, who almost single-handedly saved us from the brink. Does she even trust us now should be the operative question.”

Marilynn shook her head.

“Can you blame her?” asked Gwendolyn. “He’s a splitter, in direct violation of tradition and Avatar Alliance law—a law he helped promulgate! We can only hope that he hasn’t been twining as well.”

“Oh, please,” said Lucinda, rolling her eyes.

“Lucinda,” said Dante, “we no longer know what he’s capable of. Who would ever have thought he was capable of—” Dante lifted the stack of papers, and dropped them. “—this?” The stack transformed itself into the image of a data wraith, floating briefly above the table.

“To his own daughter,” Marcus said in sorrowful whisper.

“Whose daughter should he have done that to?” asked Marilynn.

“No one’s,” said Gwendolyn in a tone that suggested the answer was patently obvious. “Thank the Firstborn that we found out before it was too late—if it’s not
already
too late.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” asked Dante.

Marilynn turned to him. “I’m sorry?”

“Most consider Sebastian to
be
the Firstborn.”

“Most,” agreed Gwendolyn, ice in her voice, “but not all.”

Lucinda regarded Marilynn with barely contained antipathy. “What are you going to tell your President?”

“The facts,” answered Marilynn, unperturbed by the venom thrown her way. “The real question is, what are you going to tell the avatars?”

Dante fixed his steely gaze on the group. “Everything.”

Geneva Data Node
Terran Neuro

Iago was not normally in the habit of wandering in the unsecured Neuro alone. And under normal circumstances, would’ve at least made sure to be accompanied by a Merlin.
But is anything normal anymore?
he thought ruefully. He was in the Geneva Data Node, now the only space in the Earth/Luna Neuro free from the Als’ control. That security came with a price—it was also the most monitored. Iago’s advantage in this respect was that he was the one doing most of the monitoring, and so was fairly certain that the route he’d chosen
out
of the Geneva Node and into the Terran Neuro had remained undetected. It was also the last clandestine route he had, to be used only when absolutely necessary. It could certainly be closed off in a hurry, but Iago had purposely kept it open—and closely watched—in order to be available either as an escape route out or to bring rescued survivors in. Had it been known to Al, Iago was fairly certain the tyrant would use everything in his arsenal to storm it and every prickly instrument in his ghoulish redemption center to make Iago pay. Because the only avatar Al hated more than Iago was the one Iago was now on his way to meet. Or, Iago thought sadly, perhaps
one
of the ones he was going to meet.

They were to talk in the old assembly hall, where once avatars in all their hundreds of millions would come and converse together in a single massive data node. Upon entering the hallowed space, Iago walked up to the podium and looked out … on emptiness.
What is the sound of a billion voices not talking?
The incipient tears of nostalgia sprang into the avatar’s probing eyes as he remembered the odd, apprehensive, and sensuous feeling of sharing simultaneous conversations with hundreds of millions of fellow intelligences. He had not done that in years.