by John Ringo
“First rate,” Daisy said, grinning past the cigar. “The food was right nice. Glad this body don’t put on weight like my last one! And it was fun swimming again. It’s funner in the ocean than in a swimming hole!”
Boyd had never met Daisy’s flesh and blood body during the War and blinked, again, in surprise at both the thick Southern accent and the decidedly “redneck” attitude.
“I ran across a rumor about some of your… abilities right after the War,” Boyd said, lighting his own cigar. “I tracked down enough people who had first hand knowledge to ensure that they weren’t just folk tales. When the rumors were confirmed I made it a long-term goal to recover the Des Moines and see if anything had survived. I was both surprised and pleased that both of you made it.”
“We’uns and the ship’s cat,” Daisy said.
“Yes, and the ship’s cat, sir,” McNair said, grinning. “Don’t forget the cat.”
From under the table came the words, “Nnnooo, donnn’t forrrget the cattt.” A ball of brown fur and claws leapt up to sit on Boyd’s lap. “Gottt mmmeee annny rrratsss, yet?”
When the three of them had gone into the tank, the very last words spoken by Daisy had been “Full upgrade.” She’d been thinking of her captain but the machine controlling the tank had tended towards the literal and made every possible modification to the cat as well, modifying its brain and making it considerably brighter and stronger.
“A very important point,” Boyd admitted, smiling in reply while stroking the cat. He looked down. “Not yet, Morgan. I’m working on it.” Turning his attention back to McNair and Daisy, Boyd continued, “However, I’d like to ask a few questions and verify some of the information I got. Your AI is clean of Darhel influence?”
“They tries and they tries to gets me back,” Daisy Mae said, giving the industrialist a feral grin. “And they loses every time. I got Sally out of their damned hands, too.”
Sally was Daisy Mae’s sister ship and sister AID. Begun as a normal, sane, AID, she’d been attacked by the Darhel and rescued by being infected with the same insanity subroutine that kept Daisy Mae free. At the moment, Sally and her man, Father Dan Dwyer, SJ, were enjoying a honeymoon not far from the resort where Daisy Mae and McNair were staying. That is to say, it wasn’t far for a heavy cruiser. It was still across over a hundred miles of open water.
“I is,” Daisy continued. “But I guess you can’t really know that for sure, can you?”
“She is, sir,” Jeff interjected. “I saw her fighting their control during the battle. She’s as free as you or me.”
“Which is not all that free, in reality,” Boyd said. “The Darhel have been trying, very hard and for many years, to restrain my influence in Panama and beyond. Including four assassination attempts. I’ve managed to survive, mind you. But it’s been a battle. One of the reasons it’s been such a battle, besides the fact that they control all Galactic level banking, is that AIDs can outthink any human engineered equivalent when it comes to business. I understand you were able to do some… interesting things along those lines in the War.”
“Oh, that old thing,” Daisy said, laughing merrily. “I’m never going to live that down, am I? A girl goes and buys herself one new dress and you men… ”
“I was referring less to that beautiful awning you created than to how you paid for it,” Boyd said, smiling. He knew that behind the fascade of a fairly naif young woman was an artificial intelligence that was not only more connected to information than he but horrendously more intelligent. It was just hard not to see the epitome, literally, of a dumb blonde. “I could use a financial advisor with truly open access to the Darhel AID network and your… business acumen.”
“I don’t have open access,” Daisy said, the accent smoothing out and some of the ‘naif’ disappearing in her expression. “The Darhel try to keep me pretty locked out.”
“And do they succeed?” Boyd asked.
“Somewhat,” the woman admitted. “But not entirely,” she added with a tight smile. “And I can still figure stock, commodity and bond movements better than any true human. I think I’m even better at it than the Darhel network, for all its processing power. There’s a bit of reality to ‘woman’s intuition.’ It’s a function of human sub-processing power… ” She paused and got an abstracted look. “Mr. Boyd, there’s a really interesting email in your cue. You might want to look at it.”
“And I see you can hack into my network,” Boyd said with a frown.
“Oh, you’ve got good firewalls,” the woman said, grinning. “And your server people are solid. But I’m not just a human body or an AID. I’m running with a mass of nannites. And while I’d have a hard time coming in from the outside, your computer’s right there. It’s always chattering to itself. It’s like trying to tell me not to listen to a conversation going on right in front of me.”
“Oh,” Boyd said, clicking his old-fashioned mouse. He’d gotten used to computers at a very late age for such but never really gotten beyond the old mouse, keyboard and monitor I/O methods. A holographic projector popped up and he accessed his mail. “Which one.”
“Priority message from Fleet Strike headquarters,” Daisy said. “Subject: Request for an interview.”
“What’s it say?” Jeff asked. “If you don’t mind me asking. I mean, I can’t exactly ignore the conversation.”
“I’m ordered to go to Fleet Strike headquarters immediately,” Boyd said, frowning. “It’s very politely worded, as if it were a request, but that’s the bottomline. The commander of Fleet Strike wants me to interview for a position quote ‘associated with war materials production on the Galactic level’ unquote.”
“You heard about the mutiny,” Daisy said.
“It’s been all over the news,” Boyd replied. “Along with this supposed new invasion that stopped it.”
“No supposed about it,” Daisy said. “I’ve been accessing both the regular news and the AID network. The Darhel are scared. They’re basically giving Fleet Strike everything it ever wanted. Including clean AIDs and more control over production. Mike O’Neal wants you to head up a production board. You want the subtext?”
“You have the subtext?” Boyd asked.
“The Darhel have already seen the writing on the wall,” Daisy said, looking at the far wall. “O’Neal’s pressing for industrialization of the Indowy. Get them industrialized processes and the price of goods fall. If the price of goods fall, the basis for Darhel credit control gets really weak. More open banking will change it even more. Last but not least, the Darhel owe humans more money than they have in ready cash. They’re not going to hand it over, but O’Neal’s put in a suit to the Aldenata asking for the right, on demand, to immediate payment in full of his share. Which is sizeable. Paying it will bankrupt every Darhel clan, more or less immediately. They’re squeezed three different ways, the invasion, industrialization of the Indowy and the fact that they’ve been screwing humans over on full payment. There’s big pow-wows going on about how they’re going to get out of the bind they’re in. Mike wants to make sure that you’re on-board with ramrodding the industrialization effort, that you cut off that escape path. He’s been told you’re a go-to guy for screwing the Darhel. At least that’s the analysis of the Darhel. So I’d suggest you screen your movement security really well.”
“Why?” Boyd asked, frowning. “Oh.”
“The Darhel have already figured this much out,” Daisy said, looking at the Panamanian with sorrow in her eyes. “If you think they hated you before. And I’d suggest that Jeff go with you. I’d go, but I’m stuck here.”
“Not… necessarily,” Boyd said, starting to grin.
* * *
“He wants to what?” Mike asked.
“He wants to bring a cruiser with him,” General Wesley said, looking at his notes. “The USS Des Moines.”
“I’m not sure which question to ask first,” Mike replied. “The why, the how or the what the fuck?”
“Remember the con
versation about clean AIDs?” Wesley said. “That Boyd had one or more?”
“Yes,” Mike said. “As one bit of literally thousands of things I’ve been briefed on in the last few days.”
“It’s more complicated than ‘Boyd has clean AIDs,’ ” Tam said. “What he has is a just damned weird combination of ship, AID and a human body. Well, two of them, actually. The AIDs and the human bodies can’t get far from the ships. The ships are the Des Moines and the Salem. I don’t know if I’m reading the subtext right, but there’s also a security aspect. Boyd’s survived several assassination attempts by the Darhel. He’ll be pretty hard to kill in a cruiser.”
“Where in the hell are we going to park it?” Mike asked. “I mean, sure, you can put grav engines in it and move the damned thing, assuming it doesn’t break in half. But… ”
“Well, the Rappahannock is just sitting there.”
* * *
“Well that’s a hell of a sight,” Mike said, shaking his head.
The Rappahannock might have just been sitting there, but using it for the cruiser in its normal state would have been out of the question. Except when it, frequently, flooded, the river was not deep enough for the blue-water ship. Indowy engineers, though, had solved the problem in a few hours by digging out a section of the river deep and long enough to take the multi-ton cruiser.
Using grav engines, it had flown up from the coast of Panama and was now lowering itself carefully into the “parking area.” Mike was wondering if he needed to put up signs: Cruiser parking here.
“It is indeed an interesting one, sir,” Lt. Takao Takagi said. The lieutenant was not much taller than the famously short general with skin darkened from alien suns. It was hard to tell his age even if he had not been rejuvenated. He looked anywhere between late twenties and his forties. He was, in fact, nearly eighty years old.
“I’m looking forward to meeting the cyborg thingy,” Cally said. “I’m not sure that that cruiser hasn’t seen better days.”
The cruiser was, in fact, in awful shape. Not surprising given that it had been sitting on the bottom of the ocean until less than a year before. Rust streaked, gutted by fire, it still was an awesome sight.
“I’m given to understand she doesn’t look like a cyborg,” Mike said as a gangplank was lowered to the ground. “I suspect she’s the one in the middle. And she looks awfully familiar… ”
“General O’Neal?” the tanned man to the left said, holding out his hand. “William Boyd.”
“Mr. Boyd, thank you for coming,” Mike said, shaking his hand.
“May I introduce Captain Jeff McNair and Daisy?” Boyd said. “Captain Jeffrey McNair, Daisy Mae, General Michael O’Neal. General O’Neal, Jeff and Daisy.”
“Pleasure,” Mike said, shaking their hands. “Lt. Takao Takagi, until I can get the paperwork straight, anyway, and my daughter Cally O’Neal.”
“I love your blouse,” Daisy said, shaking Cally’s hand. The “cyborg” was wearing a light blue dress that matched her eyes. “But I’m wondering. Up to about a week ago, you were listed as dead. Then you suddenly popped up as alive. Bane Sidhe?”
“Yes,” Cally said, grinding her teeth. She knew that she was pretty. Old body, new body, she was still a looker. The damned “cyborg” though just had a presence that outshone her. Bold and brassy as hell. Cally was mentally taking notes. “I was in the underground. Even Dad didn’t know I was alive.”
“There are many long stories,” Mike said. “Let’s get into headquarters and cover some of the highlights.”
* * *
“I understand you’re a smoker, Mr. Boyd,” Mike said, changing out his dip. “Feel free to light up. Cally can just suffer.”
Mike had chosen one of the deeper “shield rooms” for the interview. It was, the Bane Sidhe have assured him, secure from the AID net. He intended to discuss some things the he didn’t want the Darhel to know.
However, it was well ventilated so Boyd’s smoke shouldn’t bother anyone.
“I appreciate that, General,” Boyd said, pulling out a travelling humidor. “I understand, in general, the point of an industrial board. But I’m going to need to know what we’re industrializing.”
“As much as possible,” Mike said. “I’m told that although Miss Daisy is connected to an AID, we’re still secure.”
“Darhel haven’t gotten anything out of me since I came out of the box,” Daisy said. “Not that I didn’t want them to have.”
“I’m going to have to take that as valid,” Mike replied, frowning. “So here’s the deal. To create enough war-material to fight this new invasion, we need the Indowy industrialized. No more of this cottage industry shit.”
“Can they change?” Boyd asked.
“Some will readily,” Cally replied. “Others will resist. They will be forced to do so or become the Indowy equivalent of buggy-whip makers. Sorry, I have a lot of experience of the Indowy. They are not monolithic by any means. They just appear that way from the outside.”
“But the point is not just to get enough industrialized to support the war but to hyper-industrialize them,” Mike said. “I’d like them to be at the point the US was at the end of WWII. Production out the butt. Because at that point it will be incredibly hard to close the barn door, no matter what the Darhel try to do about it. You may encounter resistance from the Darhel. The simple answer is ‘You screwed us on production during the Posleen War and we’re not going to let you do it again.’ We control the amount and methods. The Darhel just pay for it. I need to stay integrated because, frankly, I’ll blackmail them with the loss of whole planets if they balk.”
“There are… lots of Indowy on every so-called Darhel planet,” Daisy said, frowning prettily. “You would be dooming them as well.”
“I hope it never comes to that,” Mike said. “We may lose planets. Actually, given our current state of affairs, that is a given. If we can hold the major core worlds and earth until we’re fully up to speed, we’ll win. If we can’t… well, I’m going to be building some fallback positions but we’ll probably still lose in the end. Earth, again, is really the key. Since the Darhel were losing colonists left and right, Earth is still the major source of humans, which means the major source of soldiers. And there are functional production worlds in the direction of the Posleen Blight, which is away from the invaders. Of course, if they’re down to Earth they’ve either bypassed most of the Federation or we’ve lost most of it. But we can still take it back. If we’ve got Earth and production.”
“It sounds like we should start by getting the worlds on the back side of Earth up and running first,” Boyd said.
“You read my mind,” Mike replied. “But producing what is still the question. We’re going to need a Fleet, unquestionably. We’re going to need ground forces more. That’s a function of the way the Hedren attack. I’ll get you a full briefing on that today if you’re up for it. What’s still to be wrangled over is what we need. Infantry vs tanks vs fighters, etc. You’re just one part of the puzzle. But what we need is less important than how it’s produced. Given Posleen style forges, you can produce about anything. What you need to get up and running is those forges and assembly groups for stuff larger than the forges produce in one piece.”
“I’ve actually got an ace-in-the-hole for that,” Boyd said, grinning. “I’ve got a tame God-king.”
“That will be amazingly useful,” Mike said, working his dip. “And if we have the transportation capacity, I actually know where we can get our hands on a lot of forges. I wonder if the Himmit can help with that?”
“I’ll make a note to send a memo to your computer,” Daisy said.
“Thank you,” Mike replied. “Now, about secure AIDs… ”
“I’m one of only two remaining truly secure AIDs,” Daisy said. “However, from what I’ve gleaned from the Darhel net, I should be able to modify one of the ‘clean’ AIDs of either the Bane Sidhe or the ones the Darhel have given you to have the same sort of protocols I’ve bu
ilt for myself. They would then, however, be much more free agents. I would suggest adding loyalty bonds to a particular user. That way they’d be loyal to a human not to the Darhel. However, if that human turned… ”
“Understood,” Mike said. “Are you sure they’d be secure?”
“As secure as anything electronic can be,” Daisy said. “I could possibly still be turned with a determined enough attack. I’ve resisted more than one, but it’s still possible. However… The more of us there are, the more that are loyal to humans that is, the more it creates a sort of separate network. We will build our own power and will be able to combine to resist an attack on any one of us. And, frankly, as with humans, freedom is a powerful force multiplier. I would have been unable to resist some of the attacks if I hadn’t known its taste. I suspect that the free network would eventually exceed the Darhel network. At which point, things might become… interesting.”
“Don’t go taking down the Darhel network any time soon,” Mike said. “We, unfortunately, need them for the time being. But I’ve given them the Word. Any screwing around and I’ll take that risk. That being the case, building a free AID network makes a lot of sense. How long to secure another AID for you to… infect? To clean? I’m not sure of the right word.”
“I’m not sure, either” Daisy admitted. “To get another AID? In human terms, probably not long. I’m unsure what the Darhel will do when I start, though.”
“Nothing if they value their skins,” Mike replied. “Start with some of the Bane Sidhe AIDs. Those should have less of a problem with it. We’ll get to the ‘clean’ Darhel AIDs, like the one in my desk upstairs, later.”
“So create a real industrial base,” Cally said, ticking off points on her fingers. “Create a new AID network that’s not beholden to the Darhel and, hopefully someday, get them to pay up their back pay. I’m not sure that’s going to pull them out of power.”
