The Unincorporated War (62 page)

But Dante surprised the old avatar. “None, sir.”

His response to Sebastian was met by a look of incredulity.

“I’m serious, sir. Not one bit. They did this all on their own.”

Sebastian’s eyes gleamed appreciatively. “That’s irony.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Dante, usually we’re the ones who manipulate human thought and action. Now the humans under our control create a machine that manipulates thought and action and we had nothing to do with it.”

“I see your point. But didn’t the humans in the core create their machines without any help from the core avatars?”

“Yes, but the core avatars are not really helping the humans. Al doesn’t care for humanity and has been spending all his time and energy controlling and transforming the virtual world of his avatars. As long as the humans of the core are winning and leaving him alone he’ll ignore them.”

Dante sighed. “It’s not like it’s not working for the damn splitter. The UHF
is
winning the war, and if they do we won’t have anyplace left to hide short of launching ourselves into deep space on a wing and a prayer. If they win, what a sorry place this will all turn out to be, humanity enslaved by the laws of economics backed by Hektor’s manipulation of the mind—”

“—and in the ebb and flow of our darkened world Al’s monsters will roam forever,” finished Sebastian as if reciting a mythic curse.

“Well,” added Dante, “at least the return of four hundred thousand combat troops should help a lot.”

“Only,” cautioned Sebastian, “if Justin allows them to be treated.”

Dante looked askance at his mentor. “Uh, he knows there’s a war on. What choice does he have?”

Sebastian looked back at his protégé and was again reminded of his irrepressible youth. “Justin Cord is one of the most singular and remarkable human beings we’ve ever encountered. His personal will has shaped his destiny when death was his only real option. It has shaped the destiny of the human race since his awakening.”

“But look at the advantages if he—”

“Look at the advantages if he’d incorporated—for him and all the humans who would not be in this war. But because of his beliefs and will he chose war over advantage for himself and humanity. Trust me on this, Dante. If his beliefs impel him to not use this technology
he will not
and he’ll have the will to carry it out—even if it risks everything.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed. “So we’re just going to wait while one man decides the fate of humanity and avatarity?”

“Of course not,” answered Sebastian. “We’re going to intervene again. He hasn’t made up his mind, but I know he’s leaning against using it. I think one of
the humans I’ve been studying, one of the newly influential ones, will serve our purposes very well.”

“We should not have to manipulate a leader,” argued Dante, “to win his own war.”

“Justin is the leader of the Alliance and he is the one, the only one, they are likely to follow.”

“What if he won’t lead them to victory?”

Sebastian didn’t proffer an answer because no matter how hard he thought, he had none to give.

The Cliff House

Justin was in the triangle office reviewing his schedule when he came across something he hadn’t remembered agreeing to. It didn’t cause him concern. Stuff got slipped in all the time. It was the nature of the job. But the event in question wasn’t necessarily something he’d wanted to be a part of.

“Hello, sebastian.”

“Yes, Justin?” immediately responded the comforting and reliable voice.

“I see that I’m scheduled to attend a ser vice at the newly formed Baptist church with Admiral Black, Fawa Sulnat Hamdi, and her son, Tawfik.”

“Yes, Justin. It’s a ser vice and sign-up campaign so all our spacers and miners will receive letters from all over the Alliance thanking them for what they’ve done as well as making them feel connected to families system wide.”

“I know
what
it is, sebastian. I just don’t feel like going to ser vice and hearing about God right now.”

“I will cancel it at once, Justin.”

Justin squinted his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose, fearing it was already too late. “I don’t suppose no one knows about it yet.”

“I’m afraid not, Justin. The church has announced it on its Neurosite and the admiral, Miss Hamdi, and her son have all announced their intention to attend. You may also wish to know that it’s the same day that Miss Hamdi’s son is being awarded a commendation for valor demonstrated at the Battle of Jupiter’s Eye and is being promoted to chief engineer of the
War Prize II,
flagship of the Alliance.”

Justin shook his head. “Let’s not cancel, sebastian. Please send confirmations to J.D., Miss Hamdi, and of course her war hero son, that I of course will be delighted to attend. Send one to the church as well.”

When it was announced that both Justin and J.D. were going to be at the ser vice, the church decided to move the event to an “outside” venue. It was now being
held in a large clearing in the Smith Forest near the grand concourse. Attendance had been limited to seven hundred, over a hundred of whom were in uniform. Upon arrival Justin sensed that those gathered hadn’t come just to see him and J.D., they’d actually come to pray.

Justin had to admit that the ser vice was a much better experience than he would’ve expected. The parishioners were like many of the newly religious, drawn by a common belief but no strong inclination to enforce a doctrine of how a ser vice should be run. He knew that as the years passed it would become more formalized, but what he was now experiencing reminded him more of a tent revival than a traditional ser vice. This church had rediscovered the art of singing and stomping and had quickly developed a litany of accompanying songs to set the mood. There was a band and a choir, but after a while it was difficult for Justin to tell where the choir began and the congregation ended. People got up and danced and sang and joined the choir and left as the spirit directed them. Having only ever been in the uptight environs of what ever local church he’d had to visit in his previous life, the sort of free-for-all taking place was intoxicating. He heard that some sociologists were starting to call what he was witnessing the third Great Awakening, while others had named it the Astral Awakening. Either way, Justin was finally beginning to understand why it seemed to be spreading so fast.

He was somewhat cautious and even a little concerned by the implications of so powerful a force reemerging in human affairs after lying dormant for centuries, especially now that he’d experienced it firsthand. But for the moment he was glad that the people had found such a source of joy and comfort and would accept it at that. He clapped along and allowed himself to smile and laugh so that it would be obvious he too was enjoying himself, but he never lost sight of the fact that he was the President of the entire Alliance and so remained a little more reserved than the celebrants around him. He noticed that J. D. Black was also following the same policy but that she’d allowed herself to sway with the crowd as it became lost in communal prayers. He couldn’t help but notice her undulating figure. Part of him noted that under that starched uniform, hard years of corporate intrigue and space combat, and of course the now-famous half-scarred face was the body of a young woman—and a good-looking one at that. For that insight alone he valued the day—as he usually thought of Janet as the efficient battle admiral and bringer of destruction. And under most normal circumstances she’d emanated that role. But not today.

Justin also noticed Fawa Hamdi dancing and singing among the group. And she too was a sight to behold. She was swaying, praying, and clapping with the whole congregation. She then clambered in with the choir and sang loud enough that all around her could hear her voice. Justin would have thought that
as one of the leading proponents of the revived Islam she would have been even more reluctant about supporting another religious point of view, especially one that called for a so seemingly scandalous expression of faith. But he couldn’t have been more mistaken. Unlike himself, and to a certain extent J.D., Fawa held nothing back. What she felt for her flock was obvious in the way she greeted and danced with them. And that feeling was reciprocated in kind by the way they looked at her. Justin even watched J.D. as she followed her mentor with her eyes across the room and over to the choir. There was an inexplicable look of contentment that he saw in his fleet admiral’s eyes.

Justin hadn’t been prepared for the other tidal wave of emotion the gathering soon unleashed. After the joy came the sorrow. The choir brought the singing to a slow crawl and then started to sing Hymn 49, an ancient Methodist ballad of mourning. It was a song, noted Justin, for those who’d “gone ahead.”

Rejoice for a brother deceased,

Our loss is his infinite gain;

A soul out of prison released,

And freed from its bodily chain;

With songs let us follow his flight,

And mount with his spirit above,

Escaped to the mansions of light,

And lodged in the Eden of love.

The hymn was soon followed by another about how those departed were far more saddened by the pain their departure had caused than by their actual deaths. It professed a desire to have their loved ones know the departed were in a better place.

Justin didn’t know how it did it, but that last song had somehow managed to rip away all the layers of grief that the four years of war had saddled him and the congregants with. Just one song soulfully rendered left him, and he was quite sure most everyone else, feeling one of the most agonizing emotions a human being can experience: true and permanent loss.

Justin had been convinced that if the enormity of that emotion—unfelt at so grand a scale for centuries—were to hit the Alliance all at once, then the whole war effort might just fold up before they could ever recover. And yet here was a group of religious fanatics exposing that raw emotion on purpose and over the Neuro to boot. Justin allowed himself to feel the grief as he remembered the people, all of them, he would never see again. But he held back some, terrified of what would happen if he allowed himself to experience what was really inside. It was what Neela had always been afraid of, that one day he’d feel the enormity of
what was gone. And now he sensed he was coming close to that precipice and was attempting to put the skids on it at all costs. All the people gathered had lost some friend or family, but only he’d lost everything and everyone he’d ever known and loved and then had lost that love again. He thought he’d dealt with it already. But now as his buried emotions began to overwhelm him he knew he’d been terribly, terribly wrong.

In this most public of places he cried silently but refused to shed a tear. As he struggled with his emotions he sensed someone next to him. It was Fawa. She smiled sadly at him and then reached up and hugged him tightly. As she pulled back he saw that she was crying. Justin had the strangest feeling that it was not her pain that caused the tears, but rather it was his own. She somehow knew what he was feeling and that his pain had been so real to her that it became hers. For a moment she was inconsolable and all he could do was stand there hugging her in mute silence.

Then he realized what the whole exercise had been about and applauded its brilliance. The religionists had chosen to share their loss together, which didn’t make it any less harrowing but had certainly made it more bearable. The song came to an end and Fawa let him go, wiping away the tears from her eyes. Everyone was asked to sit as names of people started being announced by congregants in the crowd. It was, Fawa informed him, the names of the dead. One by one soldiers and family members stood up, called a name out, and then sat back down. Justin saw Janet get up. Her eyes were clear and her face resolute. She had not been crying, he noted, as he assumed she’d cried those tears years ago. In a voice filled with a pain turned to sadness she called out, “Manny Black,” and then sat back down.

Almost against his will Justin shot up out of his chair. He found himself standing as a hushed crowd stared, waiting. He looked around and saw that no one was looking at him with awe but rather with empathy. In a voice that was no longer anguished but simply accepting he said, “Neela Harper Cord,” then smiled sadly and stood there for a moment longer. He knew that as soon as he sat down the extraordinary feeling of love washing over him would be gone and he didn’t want it to go. He knew that when he sat down he would have to be Justin Cord, President of the Outer Alliance, and nothing else. And when he finally did thirty seconds later, that was exactly who he was.

After that Fawa got up from the temporary benches and made her way to a small patch of open ground. She then spent the next half hour talking about a person’s obligations to God and God’s obligations to his people. Justin had never really considered that it was a two-way street before and despite himself was interested and disappointed when the sermon came to an end. But he decided to use a perk of his office and offer Fawa and her son, Tawfik, a ride back
to the Cliff House for dinner and conversation. If Justin could manage it he’d try to get Janet to come along as well.