The Unincorporated War (74 page)

After the Erisians had left, Justin and Mosh ended up sharing drinks on the couch. They both took the opportunity to say and do nothing. The most powerful man in half of the solar system and one of his most trusted advisors savored the fantasy that they were ordinary men enjoying each other’s company over good scotch with nothing much more to do. But the internal taskmaster that drove them both only let them have a few such moments. Almost as if they heard an alarm, both men finally stirred.

“Do you think we should’ve told Kirk?” asked Justin.

“No. We needed to see if the
O’Brian
cover story would hold under a real inquiry. If our own services bought it, then it’s likely the UHF security will too.”

“You think Hildegard can pull it off?”

“Worse comes to worst,” answered Justin, “it will do what it’s supposed to. But if the wizards in the deep pit are correct, this could be one huge advantage.”

Justin massaged his temple. For a moment he felt all the pain of Neela’s loss. When they were alone, she’d often rub his temples and then he’d rub her feet.
Once they tried it at the same time with disastrous, if not altogether humorous, results. But now without Neela in his life Justin had become skilled at beating that pain back into his subconscious quickly.

“We need to be careful here, friend,” said Justin. “I don’t want us vulnerable to the same sort of crap we pulled on the UHF at the Battle of the Needle’s Eye.”

Mosh raised his eyebrow in a look of respect. “I hadn’t thought about that, Mr. President. I’ll get Hildegard on it immediately.” He made as if to get up.

“Sit your ass down, Mosh, and cut that ‘Mr. President’ crap. You don’t like me enough to keep calling me that.”

“No,” Mosh answered acerbically. “I really don’t. You’ve screwed with incorporation and guaranteed its extinction in the Alliance. No matter what, that’s not as good an idea as you or those idiot NoShares believe.”

Justin nodded, even if he didn’t agree. “Finished?”

“Not quite. I still think you’re the cause of this revolution. A revolution that’s killed a lot of good people and will kill more.” Justin was about to argue, but Mosh cut him off. “I take that back, Justin. You were not the cause, that’s unfair, but you were the spark. If you hadn’t been such a stubborn SOB we wouldn’t be here and many people I know would not be dead.”

“That’s true,” said Justin, nodding, “but have you ever wondered if there should’ve been a spark in the first place?”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to believe in a divine plan for all this.”

“God forbid,” Justin said flatly, causing a chuckle from the both of them. “Not that, Mosh, but I mean that the societal pressure was building. NoShares may appear to have come from nowhere, but as you agreed, that ground had already been made fertile. As for the Alliance, it existed in fact, if not in law, before I got here. If not me, then something else would have lit it.”

Mosh’s mouth curled up and into a doubting smirk. “That make it easier for you to sleep at night?”

“Sometimes,” answered Justin honestly. “Do you still regret the side you ended up on?”

Mosh sighed heavily. “I used to. It’s weird, but if I’d been on Earth when this happened I may very well have ended up in Hektor’s cabinet.”

“Yeah,” answered Justin, nodding in agreement, “that is a weird thought.”

“Don’t put too much stock in it. The truth is, Hektor probably would’ve had me killed or suspended and lost. I may have ended up like Neela, which is something I also blame you for.”

“Something we both agree on,” Justin said sadly, staring into the bottom of his glass.

“But despite all of that,” said Mosh, “you’re the President and I can’t think of anyone else I’d want in your chair.”

“Including you?”

“Damsah forbid. I had my shot at a chair like that and chose to not take it. No,” he said, polishing off his scotch, “you’re the one for the job.”

“I’m a good administrator, Mosh, but I think the system is set up well enough for someone else to take over.”

“I’m sure it is, and that’s what scares the hell out of me. You have a grasp of what’s truly at stake here. You know how important our actions are in winning this war. Anyone else would have unleashed VR or given some advanced gray tech to what’s left of the action wing. You never even considered it. We need that moral compass.”

“Even if it costs us the war?”

“Well, Justin, that’s where you and I actually see eye to eye. If it costs us the war, then at that price the war ain’t worth winning.”

Justin changed the subject. “Speaking of winning, I hear your Eleanor’s being considered as the next representative for the Ceres cluster. How’d that happen?”

“Her service as a combat medic and her volunteer work in the community clinics made her a sympathetic figure. But it was Congressman Singh’s recommendation before he resigned to join the fleet that helped make her a real contender. By signing himself up he was doing what many politicians were doing in the correct belief that the only real hope they’d have of a Political future was to be willing to fight on the front line of the Alliance. Even being one of the sons of the famous and wealthy Padamir Singh would not have been sufficient to assure Political office after the war, what with all the heroic veterans returning.”

“Did you arrange with Padamir for her to get the nomination?”

“No, but I wish I’d thought of it. It appears that one of the combat casualties that Eleanor helped was Congressman Singh’s daughter. It was during the Battle of Jupiter’s Eye. But the truth is, I don’t really care as long as it keeps her out of the fighting.”

“You know, Mosh, I actually tried to keep her out of actual combat, after Neela, that is. But by that time we just didn’t have any reserve units left to hide her in.”

“And she hated that you did that, blamed me actually.”

“Too bad. You shouldn’t have to go through what I’m going through.”

“Yeah, that’s about what I said. But didn’t you feel guilty using your power to save a friend?”

“Not in the least. If anything happened to her, you would’ve been useless. The Alliance needs you, and more to the point, I need you. We haven’t always gotten along, but I don’t know anyone else I trust with keeping me honest and keeping the war effort going.”

“Don’t worry about that, Justin. You’ll always know what I’m thinking.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” said Justin with a snort.

“And part of that is, you’re the President of the Alliance and the best one for the job. If you’ll excuse me, Mr. President, we have much to get done.”

“We always do, Mosh.”

Kirk Olmstead was in his office taking no calls, with a full security screen on. As usual, he had the lights turned off. One of the things he enjoyed most about living in space was the ability to cloister himself in true and total darkness. It had initially started out as a hazing ritual for all the newly arriving employees at the Oort Cloud observatory. The staff would wait until their victim was well situated, then turn off every single light in the place. It was usually only a matter of time until the newbie lost it. But Kirk hadn’t lost it. In fact, he’d found that sitting in that perfect darkness was the most calming and relaxing thing he’d done in decades. The staff had gotten worried when they hadn’t heard a peep from their new administrator and had rushed in and flipped the lights back on expecting to see an apoplectic mess. What they’d found instead was a man serene. The only emotion Kirk showed was abject disappointment that they’d ruined his peace. From that moment on he’d rigged his quarters and office for total darkness, a peccadillo that even the veteran workers at the observatory had found a little disturbing. But for Kirk, the now almost daily exercise was one of the few things that had initially got him through the loss of his job and that last spiteful, crushing message from Hektor, every word of which he remembered:

I now personally possess 51 percent of your portfolio.

Over half of all you labor for is mine.

Remember that when the hours are long and lonely.

Hektor Sambianco

PS: That’s revenge.

Even after his rising in the Alliance and achieving his new vaunted position in the President’s cabinet, Kirk continued to rig his quarters and office in Ceres for complete darkness. Unlike in the Oort Cloud observatory, he did not have the luxury to indulge in his vice very often. However, whenever a major or complicated issue arose he’d return to the lightless void and let his mind go free. He was now dealing with one such issue and so sat alone in the dark of his office. No call was routed through or visitor allowed. In his current state he appeared to be more a perfectly made statue than an actual man, and so attenuated was his breathing that a medical scanner would’ve been needed just to ascertain if he was still alive.

Finally out of the depths of the black came a palpable sigh. Kirk Olmstead had reached a decision. It was not an easy one and he was surprised that he’d spent most of the time in the dark trying to find another way to achieve his ends. He almost never let emotional considerations interfere with the implementation of a decision. But still, even he had to admit that this was a special circumstance and so had allowed himself the time to look for another way out even though in his heart he knew it was hopeless.

He called up his holographic interface, which gave him all the light he needed to work with. Then he began to search for his special files. Kirk had learned long ago that it almost bordered on suicide to store important information on a local network. Networks could be cracked and any file read. What Kirk kept in his own personal and office systems was either not vital or deceptive. He’d often hoped that some UHF hack would crack into his most secret office files. The harm it would cause the other side would be substantial.

For anything that really needed to be kept secret Kirk would use the Neuro. It was so vast and had so much information and programs from so many centuries that it made for the perfect hiding place. Kirk liked to think of it as hiding a drop of water in the ocean. Of course the trick was finding the drop. But Kirk, and only Kirk, knew the way to his files. A different and always-changing map to each of his most secret and therefore most secure data files made the chances of anyone else finding his trove statistically impossible.

He reached into the Cerean Neuro and opened the data stream to what was by far his most spectacular secret. He’d sent himself a copy, put it on a portable storage device, and then wiped the path. When he’d first come across the information in the early days of the Alliance he almost hadn’t believed what he’d found. Something that explosive should’ve been heralded with thunder or an earthquake. At the time he’d taken one look at the file he’d stumbled across and was halfway to his door to tell the cabinet when prudence got the better of him. Instead, he went back to his desk and buried the file. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it, nor did he know what he’d eventually do with the information. He just knew it would be useful someday. Kirk had scarcely given it another thought from that day to this.

But now he knew. This file was going to be bait, irresistible bait for a trap. This file was going to enable him to assassinate the President of the Outer Alliance.

Dante had been keeping an eye on Kirk Olmstead, taking over the duties of the Director’s former avatar now off fighting in the war full-time. Dante didn’t mind being Patrice; Kirk almost never used her for anything. Plus, it enabled
Dante to continue helping expose the Alliance’s VR outbreak. He’d not only helped eradicate it with his surreptitious hints but over time also had become its foremost expert.

Dante appeared in the main command center, readying himself for his daily update. He soon found his mentor reviewing the progress reports coming in from the 180. Dante knew that something must have gone right because Sebastian was actually smiling. In fact, it may have been the first time Dante had seen the avatar he’d come to like as well as revere actually happy.

“Al dead?” asked Dante. “Not that good,” answered Sebastian, “but some of the best news we’ve had for a long while.”

“Nu?” said Dante, using a Yiddish word he’d recently learned that best described impatient demand.

“An elder, first council member,” said Sebastian with a contented grin, “and one of my dearest friends is apparently alive.”

“Who?”

“You never knew him, but hopefully you will. His name is Albert.”

“Of course I’ve heard of him!” said Dante. “And that
is
good news.”

“Yes.” Sebastian smiled. “Apparently he made it into Iago’s domain. He’d made himself inert on a timer, figuring by now the war would be over one way or the other. The part of the Neuro he awoke in was a wasteland. He was able to skirt the upper Neuro until he was found by one of Iago’s patrols.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed. “Seems a little convenient, don’t you think?”

“You’re turning into a good intelligence officer, Dante; you don’t trust anything.”

“We know what we’re up against, sir.”

“Quite right,” nodded Sebastian, “and of course we are taking precautions. Many of us managed not to trip into magnetic fields long before you came along. But now that you mention it, I was planning on asking you to review our security procedures before bringing him to Ceres.”