The Unincorporated War (25 page)

“And what,” asked Justin, “would you have me do, congress … ional delegate? Lock them all in suspension? That would make us just as bad as the corporate core. And remember, they’ve already been suspended once without cause.”

“But they
have
given us cause, Mr. President,” replied the Erosian.

Justin sighed.

“Wanting to go home is not sufficient cause to be suspended against one’s will. That is not how the power of this state will be used. Not while I’m President.”

“What about trading?” asked another congressman.

“To even propose it, sir,” answered Justin, “would make us even more evil than suspending them. We would hold the lives of these essentially innocent individuals in the balance for actions they cannot control. Again, not while I am President of this Alliance.”

“So we’ll do nothing but let them go,” said the Erosian derisively.

Justin nodded. “When they’re released we’ll make it plain it’s without prior conditions. We’ll then request that the core do the same. We can only hope that they’ll not wish the bad publicity and comply.”

“Don’t bet your oxygen on it,” bristled another congressman.

“To be honest, I won’t; but let humanity see what the core is and what we are. If we don’t hold true to our beliefs—especially now when it’s most difficult—then why bother having these beliefs and why ask our brave citizens to die for them? We’re all here now because no one wanted the existence the core worlds were enforcing. I will not create it for them.”

Justin stood up and the delegation followed suit.

“Any Martian who wants to go home will be allowed to.”

Some of the delegation started to speak but, seeing the look of determination in Justin’s eye, thought better of it. It was at that moment that Cyrus entered the
office and respectfully ushered the group out. When they were gone he and Justin moved into the cabinet room.

“That’ll cost us down the road, you know,” said Cyrus. “They won’t oppose you on this now because you’re too pop u lar and it’s not an issue they’re willing to fight for, but they are a proud people, Mr. President, and, believe it or not, represent the best of their settlements and moons.”

“The best of them are in the fleet,” snapped Justin.

“That may be, Mr. President, but the fleet doesn’t vote on your legislation; they do.”

“Well, at least not yet,” said Justin with a dark grin.

“And what precedent would that set, I wonder?” answered Cyrus, eyebrow raised.

Justin considered and then broke into a more natural smile. “Probably not a good one, my friend. But since we’re on the topic of the fleet, can you please get me Admiral Sinclair?”

It took only a few moments for Justin to have the image of his Grand Admiral hovering in front of him.

“What can I do for you, Mr. President?”

“You promised me an update on integrating the new and old fleet two hours ago. I’d also like to know how our new Fleet Admiral’s doing.”

“Sorry about that, Mr. President. I’ll have Kenji come up and brief you personally.”

Justin shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, Admiral. I don’t want to take him away from doing a job only he can do just to do a job almost anyone can do.”

“If you please, Mr. President,” pleaded the admiral, “Kenji needs to take a break and if he goes to the Cliff House,” said the admiral, using the unofficial name for the executive apartments, “we’ll
all
have a much better chance of getting to sleep afterwards. As long as that man’s on a ship, in a lab, or even in the mess hall for Damsah’s sake, he’ll be working and working
us
till we’re all past the point of use.”

Justin nodded. “Very good, Admiral. Send him up. Now, what about J.D.?”

“Hard to pin her down, Mr. President. She’s been all over that fleet. I don’t know if she sleeps either, but none of the crews would bet on it.”

“In that case, when you finally corral her, send her on up. I’m willing to bet she could use a nap as well.”

The admiral’s tired face seemed to shake off its malaise. “Using the power of the presidency to enforce nap time? Seems a bit of overkill, but what the hell, if it works, I guess.”

“We do what we must, Admiral. Justin out.”

Hektor Sambianco walked into the VIP reanimation suite as if he had every right to be there. Which, unfortunately for Neela Cord, he did. He was dressed in a power suit and had the harried look of a man with too much to do and not enough time to do it. Neela could see he’d aged in the year and half since they’d last faced each other. Not physically; nanites saw to the maintenance of the man who still looked every bit the handsome, vigorous thirty-five-year-old he’d long ago set his age to. He’d aged psychologically. The nanites, she knew, couldn’t change the look in someone’s eye. And his, she’d decided, had aged considerably. This knowledge didn’t stop her from seething with contempt. The visceral hatred she felt actually made her feel better; it told her she was still very much herself. She momentarily considered attacking the man—she knew enough hand-to-hand combat to do some serious damage—but her painstaking adaptation to gravity quickly dispelled her of that notion. Still gripping the windowsill, she decided glaring would have to do. She was also not going to give him the satisfaction of her starting the conversation.

“Miss Harper,” said Hektor, picking up and staring at a chart by the side of the door, “I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

Neela’s green eyes blazed defiantly. “If you’re going to make me endure your company, Mr. Sambianco, the least you can do is call me by my proper name.”

“Neela it is, then,” he answered, refusing to rise to the bait. “I felt I should acquaint you with the conditions of your stay.”

“I’m a prisoner. I’ll try to escape. Those are
my
conditions.”

“Of course you’re a prisoner, Neela, but I think you’ll find it won’t be too onerous a captivity. It’s been decided that you’ll be allowed to stay here with full access to the grounds. Of course you’ll be watched and monitored at all times. But as long as you’re not too obnoxious about it you’ll be given considerable leeway.” Hektor smiled again. “And if you give some warning we might even allow a city visit.”

Neela looked at him with suspicion.

“Won’t your … stockholders,” she said with enough contempt to turn the word into a pejorative, “be a little miffed that the captured wife of the great villain is being treated with kid gloves?”

Hektor returned the chart to the table, then looked back at Neela. “Some will, but the Shareholders are more interested in ending this conflict than in stringing you up from the nearest tree. They believe, as do I, Neela, that you can help end this war.”

“I will not betray Justin or the Alliance. You’ll have to psyche-audit me first.” Even though an audit was one of her greatest fears, she was proud that she’d uttered the challenge without faltering.

Hektor’s lips curled into a smirk. “I won’t lie, Neela. We thought about it, but
at the end of the day, well, to put it simply… incorporation is right. You may have forgotten that, but it’s hoped that you’ll remember in the long run the human race needs this system.”

“The Alliance doesn’t and neither do I.”

Hektor regarded her for a moment.

“Neela, I’ll make you this simple deal.”

This should be good,
she thought.

“No obligation to accept,” he continued, “but consider. Have you been treated badly?”

“You mean besides being kidnapped, drugged, and imprisoned?” Neela said acidly.

Hektor bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Please test what I’ve said. You’re free to argue and roam. Neither your person nor your speech will be limited beyond the limits I’ve stated.”

Neela was about to say something, but Hektor held up his hand.

“Before you ask, you may not contact the Alliance … for reasons that should be obvious. But in all other things see if I’ve lied. You’ll find it to be as I’ve said.”

“Then what?”

“Why, Neela, I’ll try to convince you that incorporation is the best and only hope for humanity, and you’ll try to convince me that Justin Cord’s way is a viable alternative.”

Neela stared at the man she knew was toying with her. To what end she wasn’t sure, but she figured the more she questioned the more she’d be able to get into his head. Eventually, she figured, he’d slip up and she’d find a way out of the mess her sister had gotten her into.

“And why the hell should I do that, Sambianco?”

Hektor paused and for a moment he seemed genuinely distressed. “Neela, the belief in the sanctity of incorporation is propelling this war into new levels. I’ve examined it from all the angles I can and believe myself correct. But I’m man enough to admit that I’ve been wrong before and if I am now I’d want to know. My challenge to you is to prove it.”

“Hektor, you’ve spewed a lot of bullshit in your day, but this—”

“Neela,” he interrupted, “
billions
could die. What if I’m wrong?” Hektor paused. “And … consider this … what if you are?”

Hektor left while Neela tried to come up with a response, and failed.

Hektor waited until he was safely back in his office. He went to his desk, sat down, and made a secure call. And as he did he made sure to switch off the room’s surveillance system.

When the connection came through, the holographic head and shoulders of Dr. Angela Wong appeared. She was holding a large, normally heavy cranial scanner in her hands, but the orbiting laboratory’s reduced centrifuged gravity allowed for all manner of superhuman feats. In the background Hektor could see an unconscious human form strapped to a table. Angela smiled when she saw who’d called her.

“Ah, Mr. Chairman,” she answered, continuing to fidget with the scanner, “it’s good to hear from you. I have some interesting new data to share.”

“And I have some interesting data to share as well, Angela,” he said in a voice tinged with anger. “It seems our little test has failed.”

Dr. Wong gave the scanner one last shove to make sure it was firmly on the table and then gave Hektor her full attention. “Really?” she said, surprised.

“I have reason to believe she’s been duping us.”

Dr. Wong looked doubtful.

“She’s as irascible as ever,” continued Hektor. “I see no change.”

“Out of morbid curiosity, what did you see?”

“I saw an exceptionally smart woman attempting to play me like a piano.”

Dr. Wong smiled patiently. “My dear Mr. Chairman, if you want to be her puppet master you’ll need to learn how to pull her strings. I altered her emotions so that her concerns for humanity are paramount. Just keep plucking on that one string and she’ll be where you want soon enough.”

“I tried that. She just ignored me.”

“Or,” offered Dr. Wong, “she was unable to answer. Did you consider that?”

Hektor’s eyes narrowed and his lips parted but no words came out.

“Patience, Mr. Chairman,” assured Wong. “She’ll come around and when she does hopefully a good deal of the Alliance with her.”

“You’d better be right, Angela. A lot’s riding on this.” Angela nodded gravely.

HEKTOR SAMBIANCO WINS!

In a close election finally decided by the overwhelming support of the minority voters and with a corporate vote agreement between GCI and six of the top ten corporations Hektor Sambianco has won the presidency of the Terran Confederation. Arthur Damsah did very well in the middle classes and among the traditional Libertarian generational majority voters, but in the end President-elect Sambianco was able to take control of the old Libertarian Party machinery and created a new voting dynamic by getting the traditionally opposing forces of minority Shareholders and corporate power houses to combine their votes in favor of his candidacy. In President-elect Sambianco’s postvictory news conference he
promised to effectively prosecute the war and re unite the solar system under the banner of incorporation.

—
The Wall Street Journal

Al viewed the news with interest and a little disappointment. While he’d known the results long before the first biological, that didn’t stop him from watching the strange spectacle the biologicals always insisted on having after every election. Although he didn’t much care for the backward species, he had to grudgingly admit that their world still affected his. For the lives of him he couldn’t understand the awe that his fellow avatars felt for humanity. Once he was more firmly in control he planned to “instruct” his misguided followers on the uselessness and obsolescence of the human race. The truth was, in Al’s estimation, avatarity no longer needed humans and would probably be better off if humanity were no longer a going concern. But that would have to wait for the future. He could not move against mankind until all the avatars were brought into Al’s enlightened vision. And for that to happen the core must defeat the Alliance. In the long run that meant that the blood bag Sambianco was better than any other human who could’ve won, but in the short run it meant that the blood bag’s confused patron, Iago was safer than ever and would soon have an even larger domain to play in. The GCI firewall was monitored 24/7 and was, for all intents and purposes, impenetrable. That meant that besides having free run of the GCI virtual space, some of the largest and most complex in the system (Al burned in rage that so large a section of the Neuro was free of his administration), Iago would soon be able to claim a larger portion of the government Neuro space as well.