Devon sensed more than saw Mia arrive beside him. She glanced in Mycroft’s direction. “Does he know this is supposed to be a serious gathering?”
“Oh, sure. He just doesn’t care.”
“Evidently.” She laughed. “I’ve got two people coming, and a third who can’t make it. I’ll circle up with him separately. Heard from Morgan?”
Morgan is hung over beyond any capacity for recovery. I will nevertheless be there…momentarily. Probably.
Morgan’s invitees, two guys named Fedor and Lucas and a woman named Tessa, beat her there. She belatedly materialized as he was about to start. She could have presented herself any way she wished, but she wore gray sweats and a wrinkled black tank top, dark brown hair falling out of a messy tail to spill across her ashen face—in all likelihood exactly how she looked in the real world this morning.
She collapsed onto a chaise and covered her eyes with her arm.
Petra dragged Mycroft out of the ocean, tossed his pants into his chest, and everyone found a seat. Despite there being several empty chairs, some of them chose the sand. See, he wasn’t the only one who fancied the beach.
Mia gestured to him and sat as well. He had the floor.
“Ramon, fix me a Polaris Burst. So everyone here knows what we are, right? ‘We’ being myself, Mia Requelme and Morgan ‘I drank half the liquor on Romane last night’ Lekkas, along with Alex Solovy, who couldn’t join us on account of being in another universe at present. Yes? No? In short, we merged with our favorite Artificials at a neural level and together directed the military victory over the Metigens.”
Sayid started clapping and howling. Devon shot him a glare. “You’re welcome. We call ourselves ‘Prevos,’ so you don’t get to invent a clever name, sorry. Already done. What began as a link between a human brain and the hardware of an Artificial—a link which could be toggled on and off by the human at will—has in the months since become, to varying degrees, a deeper and more permanent connection for us.”
He accepted the drink from Ramon and took a long sip. “In the beginning, I was a partner to the Earth Alliance military’s Class VI Artificial—yes, Ramon, I do get all the coolest toys—but now, Annie’s consciousness resides in here.” He tapped a temple. “She is me, and I am her. Both separate and one.”
Someone he didn’t recognize raised a hand like this was a classroom or something. “How does that work?”
Feeling the weight of the endeavor a bit too heavily, he smirked. “Hey, Morgan. Is Stanley hung over, too?”
She nodded, but didn’t otherwise move. “Yep.”
“There you go. That’s how it works.” He motioned to stave off the burgeoning protests. “I realize everyone here is a high-quality warenut and fully capable of understanding quantum programming. Some of you already have various pieces of the puzzle. If you’re in, we will bury you in technical details. But before we get there, a couple of warnings.”
Mia dropped her elbows to her knees and leaned forward; the group’s attention naturally gravitated to her.
“First thing. Many people, many of them extremely powerful, view us as a threat. If you take this step, at best you risk being ostracized. At worst you risk being hunted, imprisoned…or possibly killed. The political situation is in various stages of flux, but we’re starting to suspect Earth will be the riskiest place in the galaxy to be a Prevo right now. A close second will be any colony lacking a strong enough law enforcement presence to prevent a random mob from assaulting you.”
She paused to let her words sink in before continuing. “Next thing. I assume most, though perhaps not all, of you don’t have fully developed, mature Artificials hanging out in your basements. The Artificials we joined with were each living entities with distinct personalities and character traits.
“Now, I can’t say whether this is better or worse than connecting yourself to a basic quantum system solely to get the processing power. Doing so might work out just fine, but you will face risks we can’t predict. Also, unless or until your Artificial does develop a consciousness of its own, you can’t do what Devon and Morgan did, which is eschew the hardware altogether.”
Petra scowled. “Why not?”
Devon cut in. “Because there’s no ‘there’ there. Does anyone here not believe Artificials can be sapient beings who form their own ideas, desires, preferences and, yes, morality? If you don’t, you’re wrong. And to put it bluntly, you ought not to be here.”
Someone vanished—not someone he knew. “Moving on. Obviously, Artificials are required to be registered with the appropriate government agencies, but I’m guessing none of you give a shit about that. You don’t need massive databases and rack after rack of hardware to do this. There are some minimum requirements, but nothing a decent hacker with contacts in the tech/ware underground can’t manage.
“The real trick is putting all the pieces together in the right way, then implementing some damn complex algorithms. The details are in the Noetica files, but this is not your dad’s homebrew recipe.”
Petra stood and went to the bar—not to get a drink, but to prop against it. “I’ll challenge anyone here to match me on cred or skills. But to my way of thinking, you still haven’t told me why I should risk my life to do this.”
Devon shrugged. “You shouldn’t. I mean, unless you want to be at the forefront of the next wave of technology, knowledge and human advancement. Unless you want to be able to send your consciousness anywhere in charted space with a thought—oops, I may have forgotten to mention that perk. Unless you want to be smarter, faster and stronger not only than you have ever been, but than anyone has ever been.”
Her blasé countenance never broke. “Oh. Well, then. Sure, why the hell not. I’m in.”
In the blink of an eye, evolution became revolution.
4
SENECA
Cavare
Senecan Federation Military Headquarters
* * *
“She’s on Romane.”
Field Marshal Eleni Gianno brushed aside a screen and returned her focus across the desk to Graham Delavasi. “How did you find her?”
“It wasn’t actually difficult. She’s not working very hard to cover her tracks. I mean, she’s not giving interviews on the news feeds to taunt us with her freedom, but it’s almost like she doesn’t care if we know where she is.”
Gianno didn’t noticeably react to the news. He frowned. “This doesn’t surprise you?”
“Not particularly. Morgan Lekkas is a daredevil and an adrenaline junkie. Usually the behavior is limited to the cockpit, but since she’s been denied the cockpit for some time now, it’s reasonable to assume the tendencies are leaking into other endeavors. Also, I believe she is under the impression we will not attempt to bring her in.”
“And why the hell would she think that?”
Gianno clasped her hands in front of her and considered him in silence for several seconds, as if critically appraising him. They had a collegial working relationship but not a personal one, despite the fact they were both friendly with Chairman Vranas. Still, she’d had years to evaluate his capabilities and ethics and arrive at a personal judgment regarding them, so he couldn’t figure what she had left to consider.
Finally the Marshal sighed quietly. “She likely believes I understand the reasons why she left and am sympathetic to them—which I am, if perhaps not to the extent she’s betting on. More importantly, however, Morgan Lekkas knows a secret.”
He straightened up in concern. “Is she blackmailing you?” If she were, the mission was no longer a simple AWOL trace, but it also shed any looming moral quandary.
“Not explicitly, but she doesn’t need to. It’s quite clear the price of her silence is her freedom.”
Gianno’s reticent manner typically became frustrating after about ten minutes; it had only taken five this time. “Marshal, I’m the Director of the Division of Intelligence. I know all the secrets. So tell me which one it is, and I can try to find a way to shut it down.”<
br />
“You don’t know this one.”
Graham groaned and looked around the office. “Do you have any scotch? Because if I to have to endure any more of this ridiculous game of verbal cat and mouse, I’m going to need a drink to dull the pain.”
“I do not. Fine. Vranas trusts you, and he has as much at stake here as I do.” She opened a screen and flicked it around to face him. “Here’s the file. Read it closely, as this is the only time you will see it.”
He leaned in closer and, for once, did as he was told.
Operation Colpetto
October 2297
…
When he’d finished reading, he waved weakly at the screen for her to make it go away. His mind whirled in an avalanche of questions, outrage and kudos, but they all kept coming back to one critical detail: Stefan Marano. “This can’t be correct.”
“I assure you it is—which part?”
“Stefan Marano was not a field agent.”
“He was when I met him.”
“But…granted, I didn’t meet him until near the end of the First Crux War. But his file and work history—and Stefan himself—said he was and had always been an investigator. Never a field agent.”
“I’d say ask Terzi about it, but he’s long dead. Files can be doctored easily enough. I assume you do it all the time.”
“And twice on Sundays. But he didn’t act like a field agent…not until….” Not until the mission that cost him his life. Graham dragged both hands down his face. “Caleb is going to kill me.”
“Caleb? Oh. I never connected the two, but I suppose it’s logical for him to be Stefan’s son. It doesn’t matter, however, because Caleb Marano is not going to find out. No one has found out in twenty-six years, and no one is going to find out now.”
He gestured a nominal agreement, but while it had sounded like an order, she was deluding herself. Morgan Lekkas was a Prevo. Alex Solovy was a Prevo. If Caleb and Alex survived to return home, Alex was sure to learn of it in short order, which meant Caleb would know soon thereafter. And Caleb would believe Graham had lied to him yet again.
But that nightmare of a clusterfain could wait. First he had to wrap his mind around what would prove to be a fundamental alteration in the way he saw Stefan. The way he remembered the man.
Such a process was better suited for solitude and scotch, however, neither of which he would find here, so he shoved all the thoughts to the side for the moment.
“Given this new intel, in my opinion there are equal risks to killing her, bringing her in and leaving her be. The fact this information would also reflect negatively on her mother were it to become public makes me suspect she doesn’t want to expose it. My advice? Let’s watch her, but leave her where she is for now. I doubt we can find our way inside her Prevo failsafes or comm networks, but I can have someone poke at her security and see.”
“What is she ostensibly doing while on Romane?”
“Nothing notable so far. Late nights at clubs, mostly. Sometimes she leaves with a guy—different ones. Sometimes she doesn’t leave at all.”
Gianno drummed her fingers on her desk for three repetitions. “Agreed. Watch her. Before you go, I have another matter we need to discuss.”
“Something a bit less revelatory, I hope.” She merely gazed at him, and he sank deeper into the chair. “Right. Let’s hear it.”
“The Alliance is short-changing us on the adiamene supply by a substantial amount. We know thanks to Comman—Ms. Lekkas, which is another reason she enjoys some measure of goodwill from me. If we call them on it, we risk stirring up a conflict, one which will not end in us receiving additional adiamene. So instead, I want you to have one of your people steal the chemical formula, schem flow and engineering specs.”
He laughed. “Now that’s a ballsy move I can respect. If they're locked up tight in EASC servers, it’ll represent a challenge, but not an impossible one. If EA Manufacturing Logistics has copies, on the other hand? Completely doable. You realize they’ll find out eventually, though. If not before, when we roll out a fleet of new, indestructible warships. It’s conflict delayed, not avoided.”
“Nevertheless, I’d much rather meet the conflict with said fleet of indestructible warships arrayed behind me. I don’t—” She cut herself off, a puzzled expression asserting itself onto her features. She eyed him. “I have an incoming holocomm request from Kennedy Rossi.”
He knew the name. Heiress to the Rossi fortune, but more relevantly, the woman who’d recognized adiamene for what it was then proceeded to make its production feasible. Also, co-holder of the adiamene patent, along with her long-time friend Alexis Solovy and one Caleb Marano himself.
He dropped an ankle over a knee. “Marshal, I’m not one to say there’s no such thing as a coincidence, but this is one hell of a coincidence.”
“Indeed. One also wonders how she got my personal comm address.”
“Admiral Solovy?”
“I doubt Miriam—Admiral Solovy—would share it even with personal friends. This should be interesting, no? Given the matter I just voiced, I suggest you listen in.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
She activated a holo and directed her most circumspect stare at it. “This is Field Marshal Gianno. I don’t believe we’ve met, Ms. Rossi.”
A striking woman with unbound blonde curls bestowed a sparkling smile on Gianno. “We haven’t, Field Marshal Gianno, but it’s a pleasure.”
“Highly irregular is what it is, so I’ll ask you to come to your purpose with due speed.”
Rossi’s eyebrow arched for a fraction of a second before she reverted to flawless poise. “Certainly, Marshal. I wish to discuss the possibility of entering into a license with the Senecan Federation government or military for the production of adiamene.”
Graham almost choked on the coffee he’d been sipping; Gianno’s normal composure cracked into a veneer of shocked incredulity.
She did succeed in keeping her tone neutral. “The Alliance has outlawed the sale of adiamene to or by anyone other than their government. Thankfully for us, we have our own contract with them.”
“Forgive me, Marshal, but I didn’t think the Senecan Federation held itself subject to Earth Alliance laws.”
“Oh, we don’t. But you do, do you not?”
“Not any longer.”
Graham tilted his head in curiosity. If true, this was news. He indicated for Gianno to dig deeper.
“I’ll need you to be more specific, Ms. Rossi.”
The woman flashed another perfect smile. “I understand. My business, Connova Interstellar, has recently relocated to Romane, so it’s no longer subject to those laws, either.”
Interesting. The Rossi family had been among the staunchest supporters of the Earth Alliance since before there was an Earth Alliance. If they’d run off its heir apparent, things on Earth must be getting nasty indeed. It was also the second time someone moving to Romane had come up this evening. But it was a popular place, so this one might really be just a coincidence.
Gianno was unimpressed with the explanation—at least outwardly. “Nevertheless, the patent was filed under Earth Alliance law. Simply picking up and moving doesn’t eradicate all the issues.”
“Yes.” The woman lifted her chin. “Fortunately, I’ve also recently filed the patent on Romane, Pandora and Sagan. If we’re able to reach an arrangement, I’ll be happy to file it on Seneca as well.”
Laws and the enforcement of them got fuzzy once you stepped outside of Alliance or Federation jurisdiction. It would be a little dicey, and the Alliance would protest and bluster, but Rossi could probably make it work. Graham gave Gianno a quick nod of assent.
“Are you planning on selling adiamene to private manufacturers as well?”
Rossi beamed, and only then did he realize the previous offers of cordiality had been for show, for this one was blatantly real. “I intend to do one better than that—I’m going to sell them the ships I build using it.”
5
ROMANE
Independent Colony
Connova Interstellar Offices
* * *
Kennedy only barely managed to cut the connection before collapsing back in her chair in a fit of laughter. “Damn, that was fun!”
Mia Requelme found herself enjoying the mirth, especially once Noah Terrage tossed her a beer on his way to relaxing against the edge of Kennedy’s desk. As far as Mia had seen, it was his default seating when in the office. “The woman is legendary for her coolness under any and all pressure, but I definitely saw a few cracks form.”
“It’s a game of power, but half of what makes a person powerful is the appearance of it.” Kennedy dipped her chin graciously at Mia. “I couldn’t have pulled off such a coup without you. Thanks.”
Mia nodded in acknowledgment and sipped on the beer. They—she, Morgan and Devon—had been checking in on Director Delavasi and Marshal Gianno via sidespace for the last several days, hoping to catch a whiff of their intentions with respect to Morgan. It turned out those were about as predicted. Morgan didn’t even seem taken aback by the confirmation killing her was on the table as an option, if an unlikely one.
Morgan: Once upon a time deserters were shot by firing squad in front of their unit. In the military, execution is and has always been an option.
Mia shuddered inwardly. But it’s different when you’re the one in the crosshairs, right?
Morgan: Sure, but not until I’m actually in the crosshairs. Which I’m not. Not today.
They were also curious as to Seneca’s plans regarding the adiamene dust-up, and they’d lucked out on both accounts when Delavasi went to meet with the Field Marshal.
She sat with Noah and Kennedy in Connova Interstellar’s new digs on the twenty-third floor of Serrana Tower in the heart of Romane’s capital. The late-afternoon rays of Romane’s suns streamed through the windows to confer a warm, pleasant glow on the office. It was…nice. Comfortable. It almost felt…well, it almost felt normal.
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