Risk Analysis (Draft 04 -- Reading Script)

by David Collins-Rivera

  "It would be a storm whether I was involved or not," I countered. "Nothing will ever be the same from now on."

  Those words got dismissive mutterings and condescending looks all down the line, but I didn't proceed. This was their circus, and I was just one clown who'd stepped out of a miniature car.

  "Could you elaborate?" Emaross asked, after a time.

  "Well, I know that Fleet had a few technical people go over the ship after we arrived. Do you know if they were able to identify the systems inside?"

  "That vessel has been under lock and key since you were rescued," a lawyer for UH put in promptly. "If anyone other than the emergency responders has gone near it, they are in violation of International Quarantine Statutes, as well as universal salvage laws, IP privacy agreements..."

  The guy looked like he was just getting started, so I held up my hand.

  "Four techs went inside that ship as soon as we were extracted by the rescue unit. Not all at once, of course -- you can't fit more than two people at a time in there."

  "There's no record of..."

  "I know what I saw. And I know what they saw: something they couldn't put a name to."

  Emaross' eyes narrowed as he watched me, face almost pained in concentration.

  "But you can?" he asked after a moment.

  "Yes. Though, I won't."

  "You are refusing to answer our questions?" a lawyer on the other side demanded.

  "I'm privy to certain classified information I signed NDA's and other agreements regarding, over in Corporatespace. If I say to you that I can't answer a question, you need to respect it."

  "You were in no position to take on that kind of responsibility," the first lawyer barked.

  "It was an emergency, so...yes, I was; in life-and-death situations, crew members aboard commercial vessels may take any actions they deem necessary to safeguard life and limb. That's nearly an exact quote of the licensing statute," I said to the guy, who must have been sucking on lemons when I wasn't looking.

  "Your vessel had been damaged?" Annia asked, writing something down on a datapad.

  "Yes, but we felt in fear of our lives should we call for help."

  "This mission was exercised under a legal contract," Emaross underscored severely, and the lawyer types all nodded. "What made you think you couldn't ask for assistance?"

  I just looked at him like he was joking.

  "Because they attacked us?"

  This got even more shaking of heads, and out-of-hand disregard. Eventually, Annia spoke up again, trying a different tack.

  "Your claims about that hostile vessel...I'm sorry, but they seem preposterous, Mr. Dosantos."

  She appeared confused but sincere. The others looked much the same over this point, though tinged with annoyance.

  "Okay," I shrugged.

  They all waited for more, then got visibly exasperated when they didn't get any.

  OOOOOOOOOO

  ten

  * * *

  "Nothing has changed," I found myself saying. "Our situation is no different than before, so our approach shouldn't be."

  "Everything has changed!" Christmas cried, his excitement and enthusiasm plainly evident, though far from infectious, as far as I was concerned. He looked around for support. John seemed to be warming up to the idea, while Stinna was quiet. Dieter listened, looking deceptively half-baked and barely functional, as usual.

  Mavis was in her bunk, asleep for the first time since she'd thawed out from cold passage. The strain and concentration of that perfect flight had taken its toll. She made a point of telling us all that she was shutting off her visual and auditory senses, fully intending to remain unconscious for fifteen hours at the least. If we needed her, we could shake her awake. Her last order was for us to do nothing. Just sit, relax, have another party maybe; or watch and listen to the station and its routines. No major decisions until she was back on duty.

  "We have an incredible opportunity here!" the ML continued. "We have a chance to return to the Alliance with hard data about this technology. Not just long range scans, not just cryptic vid and simulations -- real information. I say we make an effort to obtain it. Even technical plans, if at all possible."

  "That's intellectual property theft," I stated, shaking my head. "I don't care what kind of breakthroughs they've had here, or what the implications are for the wider galaxy...I did not sign aboard this ship to be a pirate."

  Chris laughed, waving my concerns away. "A pirate?! Oh, drop the drama, Ejoq! Please!"

  "We just fly in, steal their property off their own vessels, and fly out again? What else can you call it? What would Fleet call it, back home?"

  "In AINspace," John offered, "a charge like that is actionable in civil court, not criminal court. The Montaro Corporation could sue us when we got back home, but that's about it -- and their technology would be entered into the public record as primary evidence. I doubt they'd want that."

  "How do you know this?" I asked, guessing the answer.

  "Well, I've been involved in some...ventures over here," he replied, looking self-amused.

  "The normal rules don't apply," Chris argued, still chuckling at me, as if the grand opportunity he was expounding should have been obvious to us all.

  "I think they do," Stinna replied, sounding unsure. Or crampy. Or something.

  "Look, as Mission Leader..." Chris began, but I held up a hand.

  "As Mission Leader, you were to see that we accomplished the goals set forth by our client, United Humanity, which you have. The mission parameters are complete, save for reporting back with what we've learned. That's the next order of business. I will not take your orders beyond that scope."

  "Then, until we are home," he countered, looking at me, suddenly very pissed-off, "this mission is very much uncompleted, and you will follow them."

  "You show me our mandate to return with new technology. Show me the contract where I agreed to do that, and I'll shut up!"

  "We have to steal from them anyway, just to get home."

  "That's different, and you know it!" I replied, my own anger starting to rise. "It bears directly on our mission, and it's a probable survival issue. It doesn't compare at all with stealing the most advanced starjump technology in the galaxy!"

  "You sit there, Ejoq, spouting words like pirate and theft as if the implications of this tech aren't clear to you -- as if they don't even matter."

  "Can we call this what it is, already?" I demanded, flanking his argument. "It's money. It's all about hard credit. How much of a bonus you'll get for bringing back a fish this big!"

  "How dare you...!"

  "How dare you?! How can you order your team to put themselves at risk for your own personal gain?!"

  He lunged at me across the table then, grabbing at the lapels of my flight suit. I pushed forward and caught at his collar with one hand, trying to punch his head with the other. Dieter jumped in immediately -- once again putting the lie to his apparent disinterest -- throwing us apart. I flew backwards with enough force to fall off the chair, and I banged my lip on the textured deck. I came up slowly, bleeding, and a little dizzy. Chris was on his feet already, dark with fury, but the engineer was between us now, arms outstretched.

  "You are such a fool!" the ML muttered venomously.

  "It's not our job!" I shouted at him, then spit bloody phlegm on the deck. "It's not who we are!"

  "What...is going on...here?"

  Captain Singleton's voice was slow, and filled with the steel of authority. She stood at the entrance to the Common Room in her underwear, blue cyborg arms on hips, blue cyborg legs planted firmly, blue, unblinking cyborg eyes stabbing us all with a severity I felt as a physical sting. Stinna was behind, still at Mavis' bunk, where she'd gone and revived her.

  "Minor disagreement," Dieter supplied, though he didn't move from between us.

  Chris pushed away his hand, and started stalking back and forth in the limited space, just three or four steps at a time behind John, who wa
s still seated and looking around with quick, tense eyes.

  "We're the only ones who can force this technology to get out!"

  "That's the measured business of nations," I said lowly, dabbing at my lip, "not the improvised business of spies."

  "Oh-ho, now we're spies!" He burst out, still pacing, still pacing, but gesticulating angrily. "First we're pirates, now we're spies! Next we'll be wizards, or cowboys. Grow up, Ejoq, and turn off the vid for a change!"

  "That's enough," the captain pronounced, the gravity of her voice anchoring the mood from open hostility to one of a harsh, vibrating cease fire. I held off further commentary, and Chris just flashed me daggers while he paced.

  "Ejoq," Mavis ordered, "go to your station, and cool off."

  Nodding, and feeling my lip swelling already, I turned and stalked back toward Gunnery, a sudden and desperate need for a closed door between the universe and myself. Brushing past the captain, I muttered, "Sorry for the noise."

  Stinna pressed out of the way as if I was going to barrel into her, even though there was plenty of room to pass. The violence had frightened her, I guess, though she still wore the same blank face as always.

  "You shouldn't hit people," she said to my retreating back.

  * * *

  Mavis came in to see me about an hour later. She was now showered and dressed in her same black clothes, freshly laundered in the ship's small automatic cleaner. It only emphasized those parts of her that were not flesh. Arms folded, she eyed me critically, standing in front of the closed hatch behind her.

  I refrained from saying that he started it, but I'm not sure I acted much like a grown-up beyond that.

  "I won't do it," I began. It was the first thing I'd said aloud since the fight, and my lip was pretty swollen and sore now. I must have sounded foolish to her...and looked even worse.

  "I've already talked to Chris," she responded quietly, "but you tell me, in your own words, what you think he wants."

  "He wants the freejump tech! He wants us to steal it, and bring it back so he can sell it to the highest bidder. I'm not a that kind of spacer, Mavis!"

  "I'm not sure what kind of spacer you are, Ejoq." Her voice was appraising, which I suddenly found much harder to bear than if she were yelling at me. "I can't even take my first sleep shift in weeks without you getting into a fight. Even if you disagree with him, what excuse is there for brawling? You could have smiled to his face, then come to me with your concerns once I was up. I won't have this chaos on my ship. The fact that it's a small crew only exacerbates any personal problems between us. You two still have to work together, and you still have to keep the peace. If I can't trust you to do it, I'll put you both back on ice. Am I clear?"

  "Mavis, look, I'm sorry we woke you up, but..."

  "Am I clear to you, Mr. Dosantos?" Her bright crystalline eyes were boring into my own, and it was not a thing I enjoyed, but neither could I look away.

  "Yes! Yes, Captain, you are clear."

  Her gaze was unwavering for a few moments longer, maybe to assure herself of my commitment to the word of her law. Then she relaxed a bit, and turned about to look at the little circular room filled with densely-packed equipment.

  "I don't know how you keep any of this straight," she said at last, sounding, for all the world, impressed.

  "Practice and enthusiasm," I replied a little late, maybe a little off-balance.

  "You should consider getting an NI," she said, tapping the port above her right temple. "You wouldn't need half of this stuff, I bet."

  "Neural interfaces are actually illegal for civilian gunners," I explained, happy for some banality. "Safety concerns, they say, though I understand Fleet is starting to use them for their gunners now. Groundpounder artillery grunts have had access to NI's for decades, so I guess someone, somewhere, is making money off the status quo."

  She looked at me again in that assessing sort of way, cocking her head to one side.

  "You're quite a cynic, Ejoq. Why is that?"

  "I prefer to think of it as realism," I countered, seeing too late that there was, in fact, no banality to be had with this woman.

  "And you believe Christmas Giordano is also looking to make money out of this, above and beyond his contracted compensations and bonuses?" She kept looking at me, unblinking, unmoving.

  "Yes, I do."

  "He claims that the paradigm shift this technology represents is so potentially disruptive to the rest of the galaxy, that we would be horribly negligent to ignore it...especially now that we're so physically close to its source."

  "And he's suddenly a qualified expert in the field of Techno-Social Evolution? He's been endowed with omniscience, and can see the future? He now gets to make judgement calls that affect humanity?!"

  "Don't shout," she spoke, quietly, warningly.

  So, I took a breath and obeyed.

  "Mavis, look...I'm no angel. I've done things in the past that, if the truth were known, well...they'd do me no credit. But I've never engaged in piracy. If it's your intent to pursue this with him, then you need to log my objections, and put me back into cold sleep. I'll have nothing to do with it."

  She kept watching, kept thinking. There was no change in expression, and no movement of any kind, except short, slow breaths that made her breasts rise and fall in a very regular pattern. I realized then that her lungs were probably artificial too.

  "And yet you're also an incredible idealist," she concluded at last. "How do I reconcile these two traits of yours? How do I understand you, Ejoq?"

  I humphed at that, and busied myself looking over a sub-sim readout that had just bleeped its completion. It was one of several in progress, generated from recent traffic data.

  I didn't know how to express it to her then. How I thought that a person can be -- must be -- many things all at once, in order to qualify as such. How a woman could rebuild herself into something inhuman, but remain humane and worthy of loyalty; how a well-heeled Mission Leader can believe he's saving the galaxy, while still looking for a payout; how a solitary spacer can see the worst in people, and in the horrific comedies they enact, while yet hoping for the very best of all possible worlds.

  "For what it's worth," I offered, "I'm happy Dieter got between us. Chris can pin back my ears, I'm thinking."

  "He certainly can, considering his training...and, no offense, your physique. Though the testosterone might have been enough, either way, who knows? Boys..." And she shook her stately, cable-receptive head with a smile.

  "Sexism, Captain? Really?"

  This brought out a short, earthy chortle.

  "I'm not allowing my crew to engage in industrial espionage," she stated, matter-of-factly. "I've informed Chris of that, and no, he doesn't like it. Understand, though, that Shady Lady's crew complement does not expressly include him. I can forbid stolen or illicit goods from coming aboard, and take every measure I see fit to ensure that they don't, but I have no legal say over his conduct outside the confines of the ship."

  "But, it's not that cut-and-dried, Mavis..."

  "It is if it ever gets before a judge." She looked to the floor then, and, suddenly, shockingly, seemed to drop her captain's armor, and even the professional aloofness of a spacer-for-hire. She glanced up at me with a troubled expression, and I had the sense of a confidence.

  "This isn't the mission we signed up for, Ejoq, but that's immaterial now. I think Chris has a strong argument, I really do. But what happens to us next, to everyone, is simply unpredictable. If we stick to our contract, if we stick to the rules, I think we can deflect most of the fallout that comes our way -- and a lot probably will."

  "Then you really believe this technology, this freejump thing, will bring on war?"

  "I have no idea! No one does! No one could! The first people to look at a new thing, and say they know where it's leading, are the first people who've gotten it wrong. I'm playing this one conservatively, Ejoq, because, frankly, I'm scared witless."

  "Then put him on, ice, Mavis!
If for no other reason than your own peace of mind. If he gets a chance, Chris will go for it. He'll try to steal that information. You know it."

  "He can't do it alone," she pointed out, hooking a thumb back toward the fore. "He'd need their help -- John and Stinna's. They're the only ones here who'd have a chance to crack this place's digital security. They seem to like him. If I put him back in the freeze, then I've alienated half the people aboard."

  "Well, they don't need to like you. And if it comes to it, you can ensure their loyalty through...persuasion." I waved vaguely at her arms and legs.

  "Do you hear yourself?!" she exclaimed, throwing up her blue hands in exasperation. "You want me to be the robot monster, and start knocking heads? That's not what these are for! I've made myself into what I am as a statement of who I want to be: a better person over all, inside and out. And better people don't force their authority with bio-plastic and titanium. They do it by example. By commanding respect."

  "Was that your thesis at the Civilian Command Academy? Sounds like a good one."

  "Don't get dismissive with me -- you're in this too! The entire mission went to the fresher, and now my ship is damaged, my crew is at each other's throats, and I have the destiny of the mother-loving galaxy to consider! You're the only one aboard I can bounce this off of, so don't start acting like a little baby."