The Unincorporated Woman (14 page)

“If I may be so bold,” interrupted Thaddeus. When he saw no overt objection, he continued. “The survivors of any disaster tend to either be very lucky or very good under pressure. As the survival of Justin and Sandra had far more to do with preparation versus luck, they are by definition extraordinary, but by no means representative of the age they escaped from.”

“Can she do the job or not, Doctor?” interjected J. D. Black, impatience clear on her weary face.

“You mean assume the role of ceremonial President?” asked Thaddeus.

J.D. nodded.

“Not to beat around the asteroid, but yes.”

“Good.” J.D. waited a moment before speaking. “Dr. Gillette, I’m compelled to inform you that by staying for the duration of this meeting, you’ll automatically be subject to increased and obvious security restrictions.”

“Do I have a choice? Did I
ever
have a choice?” he asked mockingly.

J.D. regarded him coolly. “No.”

“You must understand,” intoned Mosh, “that what you’re about to hear will affect the future President, and since you’re her conduit to the present, you’ll need to be in the orbit.”

“So you see, Doctor,” added Padamir before Thaddeus could respond, “in fact, it is
we
who have no choice. It is we who must trust you, sir.”

“Not that you’ll be given an opportunity to betray us,” warned Kirk from the other end of the table. Though his voice was even and detached, the threat was implicit.

Thaddeus waved his hand dismissively. “My patient is my primary concern. If what is to be divulged will benefit Dr. O’Toole
and
help her assume the new role as President, then there’s really no issue at all.” He then looked back over to J.D. “Please continue, Admiral.”

J.D. nodded, swapped Sandra’s image with that of the asteroid belt, and got down to the business at hand. The UHF-controlled area was indicated in red, and the Alliance in blue.

“Admiral Sinclair and I have reviewed the most recent data from the field. As you can see, the UHF is in effective and complete control from twenty degrees on either side of Eros.” The image then widened out. “Forty degrees on either side beyond that is in utter chaos. Both sides are fighting with whatever ships and troops they can muster.” As she said this, multiple dots from both sides of the conflict canceled each other out.

“We’ve made plans for a long-term guerrilla campaign and will be using any number of shielded asteroid bases to provide supply, command, and control. And if I have my way…” A new image appeared of a hollowed-out rock fitted with first a rail gun, then nuclear explosives, and then nanobead cluster bombs. “… by the time we’re done, the UHF will be so paranoid of our rocks, they’ll be blasting away at anything bigger than a tennis ball. The good news is that it’ll make their ability to exploit the area difficult if not impossible for years to come.”

“But they can still outflank us, correct?” asked Kirk.

“Yes,” admitted J.D., clearly angered by the Secretary of Security’s impertinence, “I
was
getting to that. We won’t be able to stop them from moving large fleets through to attack us here at Ceres as well as the outer planets.”

J.D.’s hands motioned across the holo-tank’s control panel. With her movement, a vast number of blue dots appeared on the map. The course and direction of each floated next to every dot. There were so many, noted Thaddeus, and all moving in one direction—out of the asteroid belt.

J.D. fixed her eyes on Mosh.

“I believe this is where you come in.”

She sat down as Mosh rose and began moving his hands deftly over the control panel. The now familiar and famous grainy still of Rabbi appeared center stage. “Turns out,” Mosh said with little indication about how he weighed in on the matter, “that Rabbi’s little suggestion has been taken by a large and growing number of Belters. In retrospect, this diaspora idea is probably something we should’ve thought of ourselves. If the refugees leave
with
their settlements, we’ll still have the most valuable part of the Belt.” The Rabbi’s image switched to display a chart of the Diaspora asteroids as well as stats outlining their main productive capacities.

“And,” said Padamir, viewing the image with a keen eye, “given enough time, they can be integrated into the outer planets to help boost the economy. It’s absolutely brilliant!”

“Exactly,” agreed Mosh. “Accordingly, I feel we should give Diaspora our official blessing and set up a system to better direct it—if such a term can be applied to the anarchic nature of the current movement.” The chart was replaced by an image showing possible points of new settlement. “Strategic considerations notwithstanding,” he pressed, looking over toward Admiral Sinclair, then back to the Cabinet, “we’ll most certainly need these settlements placed for economic advantage.”

“As well as political,” said Kirk with an arched brow. “We’re all aware of your status as the leader of the holdout Shareholder Party and that most of your support came from the Belt.”

“If you’re implying,” Mosh rasped, placing both fists down on the table, “that I’d put my own political considerations over the welfare and benefit of the entire Outer Alliance, then you’ve made a serious misjudgment of character.”

“I’m implying nothing,” Kirk protested. “Just stating the facts.”

“The only consideration for my party is that the few settlements that
are
still predominantly Shareholder-based be placed somewhere where their beliefs won’t cause havoc with the local populace.”

“Rules out the Keiper Belt,” noted Kirk. “Birthplace of the NoShare movement.”

“Indeed,” agreed Mosh, now more comported. “Nor can I place them near Jupiter even if the magnetosphere allowed. The Jovians may have come late to the no-share game but they are now quite adamant in their dogma.”

All heads nodded in unison.

Mosh changed the holo-tank to images of Saturn and Uranus. “Which leaves us with these two. The jokes of which will, I’m sure, amuse you NoShares for decades to come.” At the Cabinet’s puzzled look, Mosh launched into the first one: “Where’s the best place to put a Shareholder?”

The room burst into laughter. All except Thaddeus, whose befuddlement was saved by Ayon Nesor mouthing the word
Uranus
. At that, Thaddeus shook his head disapprovingly.

“Okay,” agreed Kirk. “Makes sense. Downside?”

“Well,” interjected Dr. Nesor, “this much I
can
tell you. Productivity and morale are going to take a huge hit for the next three to six months.” Thaddeus nodded in support.

Mosh switched off the visuals then spoke. “And it’ll be at least a year till we can start making up the loss of the industrial grid that was the asteroid belt. In the long run, I think the Outer Alliance will be better off in that we’ll be creating a manufacturing civilization far from the Core Worlds of the UHF. But only if we
have
a long run.” With that, he looked back toward J.D.

“The good news is,” continued J.D., changing places with Mosh, “Diaspora is causing as much confusion in the UHF as it is here. In some cases more. The UHF and especially Trang do not want the Belters to leave.”

“Question,” piped in Thaddeus. “What on Earth could the UHF want with a few million fleeing rebels?”

“Actually, Doctor,” offered J.D., “the number as currently estimated is in the
hundreds
of millions, and that will grow. The reason they want them is rather simple—they don’t want
us
to have them. The settlements carry with them vast production facilities and the brain trust to use them. In short, Doctor, Diaspora allows us to continue prosecuting this war mostly unabated.”

Thaddeus nodded as he input some notes into his DijAssist. “Thank you, Admiral.”

J.D. tipped her head and continued with her report. “The good news for us is that convoys that have been apprehended by the UHF act as impetus for even more to flee. Rabbi, Allah be praised, has made running away an act of bravery, defiance, and piety.”

“I’m rather liking this god of yours,” Padamir said with upturned lips. “He always seems to be on your side, no matter what the predicament.”

“
She’s
not only mine,” J.D. chastised. “The point is that Trang is delayed. It’s going to be at least a month, possibly more, before he’ll be able to bring any semblance of order to the Belt. But mark my words, the day he does is the day he’ll bring every ship he can spare to Mars and from there, launch them at us. If he can take us here at Ceres, he figures he can convince the outer planets to call it quits.”

“Divide and conquer,” whispered Hildegard.

“It’s what I’d do,” agreed Mosh.

“Which is why,” grinned J.D., folding her arms neatly across her chest, “I plan on taking the battle to him.”

For the first time, Kirk’s emotions seemed to get the better of him. “Don’t be ridiculous, Admiral. You’ll be outnumbered, and as we all know—” He made a point to make eye contact around the table. “—Trang is not like the other UHF admirals. He won’t fall so easily for your tricks.”

The room remained silent, though a few heads nodded in agreement.

“I agree,” confirmed J.D., seeming to add fuel to Kirk’s fire. “He’ll also be bringing the best as well. You see, his marines are the most experienced the UHF has to offer.”

“Not very encouraging,” huffed Cyrus.

J.D. acknowledged his concern. “It’s important we know what we’re up against, Cyrus. But what you all fail to realize is that the only way to end this war is to break the enemy’s will to fight it, and the time to do that is now.”

“You came close at the Battle of Jupiter’s Eye,” noted Mosh. “Didn’t seem to break their will then.”

“They had Trang to help them hang on. I aim to fix that.”

“Exactly how?” asked Kirk, calmer now that he had at least one Cabinet member appearing to side with him.

Before J.D. could respond, Grand Admiral Joshua Sinclair rose from his seat.

“That,” he said peremptorily, eyeing Kirk with obvious low regard, “is not your concern. Know only that if Admiral Black says she will, then she will. Do any of you doubt that?”

No one answered.

“Does any one of you seriously believe that with our experience, Admiral Black’s genius, and the Alliance’s will to win, that we won’t? Please,” he groused shaking his head in disgust, “Trang may have more ships and a reasonably experienced group of marines, but he does not begin to approach the skill, craftiness, and tenacity of our assault miners. The battle that approaches can be the backbreaking that Admiral Black speaks of, and by Damsah, we aim to see that it is.”

With that, J.D. rose from her seat.

“I’m taking the fleet out of Ceres in two weeks.” She then turned to fix her gaze on Thaddeus, whose demeanor changed slightly with the sudden realization that he’d found himself in the admiral’s famous crosshairs. “Doctor, you have thirteen days to get your patient ready, at which point I plan on being at her swearing-in ceremony. After that I’m going to force the UHF to end this war from the only place I can: the front of the line.”

6 On Your Marks

Deep in the complex computer network known as the Neuro, a group of informational intelligences prepared to meet. Unbeknownst to the humans who’d created them, the onward rush of greater advances in quantum computing and storage had wrought an evolution in AI: true sentience. But the secret remained hidden because the avatars had, as a matter of faith, an inbred belief that if humanity ever learned of their existence, it would out of fear attempt to destroy its digital offspring, futile now as that attempt might be. It was also why no human beings knew of the parallel war currently being waged within their machines and through the very air they breathed. None knew that the silent hum of technological efficiency was filled with the shrieks of a war they could not hear and the deaths of beings they could not see. Because in fact, it was a war whose ferocity, given the nature of the beasts, was even greater than the one humanity had chosen to inflict on itself. A war that if lost would doom both races more assuredly than any other disaster.

In a meeting room purposely created to mimic a Roman villa, brightly painted murals depicted an illusory three-dimensional landscape. The room had a large hole in the roof by which entered a solid shaft of light and within whose singular beam could be viewed gently circulating particles of dust. Beneath this oculus was a pool in the floor meant to catch any rainwater that channeled off the roof. And surrounding the pool sat five intelligences, each of whom was a ruling member of the Avatar Council. Out of deference to their host, they were all toga clad in colors and styles befitting their high status.

Sebastian, the de facto leader of these Outer Alliance intelligences, appeared as a man in his late fifties, clean-shaven with a full head of short cropped graying hair. His curious, dark eyes scanned the room. It was assumed by most of his peers that Sebastian was in all likelihood not just the oldest among them but also the oldest among all living avatars. Whether it added to his authority or detracted from it was of little concern to Sebastian; the meeting, however, was very much his concern, and tradition stated that as the eldest, he get it started.

“Let us bring this meeting to order,” he said, raising his right hand, “as we have critical matters to discuss.” He then looked toward his protégé, Dante, who was by far the junior member of the Avatar Council and whose responsibility it was to present the agenda.

“Thank you, sir,” began Dante, bowing in deference. “There are two major issues at hand. One concerns the report from Iago outlining changes happening to avatarity in the Core Worlds and the second concerns the human, Sandra O’Toole. It now appears that the humans will make her President of the Outer Alliance.” He looked to Sebastian for a preference as to which issue to discuss, but his patron gave no indication either way. Dante acknowledged the honor of being allowed a choice, and with a slight bow in Sebastian’s direction launched into his report. “The information provided by Iago is most disturbing.” He then opened a portal so that the Council could instantly absorb the information. They each made a show of “reading,” an unnecessary act with regards to info absorption but quite necessary with regards to the formation of opinion.