The Powers of the Earth (Aristillus Book 1)

by Travis J I Corcoran

  John turned to Max. "Tell us what it is that's obvious to you," he said, then added with a bit of steel, "Politely."

  Max looked away. Pack instincts - a respect for the dominance hierarchy - ran deep.

  "John was saying that we need to look at motives of individuals, not of the nations as a whole, and he's right. But it's not as simple as 'military' vs 'civilian gov.’ There are lots of factions. The Bureau of Sustainable Research hates AI, and it hates genetic uplift -"

  John shook his head. "You're right about motivation, but BuSuR doesn't have the capability to do a laser strike. No - at most, they're one of the interest groups supporting the policy. The DoD probably supports it too - or at least some of the brass does. The war against the tax rebels is going poorly, and it's just a grunts-and-mud fight - it doesn't help them justify their budgets. A laser strike lets them show off some of their toys and argue for more."

  Darcy flipped the burgers. "So the DoD and BuSuR are behind this?"

  John shrugged. "They're backers, I'd bet. Among others. IRS, BATFEEIN, and the FBI are all being humiliated by the rebels. So are the pseudo-intellectuals in the Georgetown cocktail circuit, the people in the fusion centers who can't pin down the leaders... The list of groups who'd support this goes on and on."

  John noted that Blue and Rex had crowded into the doorway to listen to him.

  Max tilted his head. "They'd support it - but who initiated it?"

  Darcy took the pan off the stove. "But why? Isn't an attack like this pointless?"

  John smiled wryly and answered them both. "It's because of the utter ineffectiveness that I'd bet my left nut that this came from DC."

  Duncan sniffed deeply. "Are the burgers ready?"

  Max growled at Duncan to silence him, and then turned to Darcy. "So the US government has attacked Gamma. What are all of you back at Aristillus going to do about it?"

  Chapter 22

  2064: Trentham Court Apartments, Aristillus, Lunar Nearside

  Hugh sat in the rented bedroom and listened to his mom. The lecture went on. And on. And on.

  He shook his head once, and then stopped. That was the kind of "impotent body language" she'd lecture him about if she noticed it. He leaned forward - that was "active body language" - and waited for her to finish. Finally she did.

  "Mother, it's not fair. Their negligence killed Alan. Killed him! And now they want to buy us. That's blood money, and I won't sell a friend for -"

  "Oh, Hugh. 'Blood money.’ Please. Stop being melodramatic. I know he was your friend, but Allan was doing one of his frat boy stunts, and he screwed up. His death is tragic, but we have to move on -"

  "You can't just say 'it's tragic and we have to move on.’ This isn't just bridge where we lose one hand and -"

  "Yes, we can say that, and yes, we can move on. Now listen to me, Hugh. Listen carefully. I've contacted Alan's family and I've told them in no uncertain terms to accept the settlement and then let the issue drop. Now I'm telling you - play around up there, do your investigative journalism, but the Allan issue is over. I don't want to hear you or your friends making hay about this. Do you understand me?"

  Hugh started to pout before he caught himself - body language. Why was mother being so - ah.

  "There's something going on, isn't there?"

  "I'm serious, Hugh."

  "Mother, you can tell me - is there some plan? There must be, because otherwise you'd be all over this example of lack of regula-"

  "Why I do things is my own business. Now, Hugh, do I have your word that you're going to let this issue drop? That you're going to leave Alan's family alone and not bother them about this?"

  Hugh sighed.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  A few minutes later the conversation was over and he killed the connection.

  She wouldn't answer his question...which was an answer in its own right. Something was going on. But what?

  He needed to talk to Selena, Allyson, and Louisa. Especially Louisa - she'd have some thoughts about this.

  Chapter 23

  2064: Darcy's ship at Moscow Sea, Lunar Farside

  Darcy was insistent. "John, you and the Dogs should cancel this trip and come back to Aristillus where it's safe."

  "If I wanted safe, I'd be sitting in a rent-stabilized apartment in Denver cashing my MGI checks."

  Darcy sighed. "There's having an adventure and then there's being stupid. That war Mike's been talking about for years - it's coming, John. Get back inside."

  Max lifted his orange-and-white furred head off a pillow and blinked. "War? Good."

  Darcy recoiled. "Good?"

  Blue, who'd also appeared all but asleep lifted his head and swung his ears toward Max.

  "Yes, good. BuSuR killed off most of our species. The groundhogs deserve to get what's coming to them."

  Darcy caught John's eyes and silently mouthed, “Groundhogs?” John raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

  "And I'm not just talking about Sustainable Research. Where do they get their funding? Who tells them what to do? The politicians. But they're just figureheads - the real problem is the entire edifice of the democracy that supports them! The first thing we need -"

  John cut him off. "You're proposing that a few hundred thousand humans and a couple hundred Dogs should start a war against 9 billion people?"

  Max set his jaw. "I'm not saying we should start a war. We don't have to - they've already started it. I'm saying that now is the time for us to strike back."

  John couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Strike back? How the hell are we supposed to strike back?"

  "We can drop tankers full of explosives on their cities, or engineer a strain of anthrax, or -"

  Darcy exploded. "Jesus, Max!"

  John sighed. "We've been over this before. We don't want a war."

  "Yes, we -"

  "No, listen. Right now they've thrown an impotent little tantrum. Our best bet is to hope that they've worn themselves out - that the DoD has justified its budget and the politicians have all patted themselves on the back. Aristillus should prepare for further laser attacks, sure - harden the surface infrastructure, build replacement solar plants and keep them in storage. But we do not want to escalate this into a full fledged war."

  "All they can do is shoot lasers; we're the ones who have the AG drive. They're weak, and their underbelly -"

  "Max, they're not nearly as weak as you think. Earth governments reached the moon almost a century ago; they can do it again now if they set their minds -"

  Max scoffed, "How much mass can they land here? A few lunar landers carrying three men each? What're they going to put in there?"

  "How about a few fusion nukes? Remember just yesterday when we thought that Aristillus might have been destroyed?"

  Max fell silent but his eyes still burned.

  John continued, more gently. "We don't want a fight. We avoid it if we can, and if one starts, we try our damnedest to negotiate our way out of it. Max, you've never walked around in a city. Heck - you guys have been cooped up in the Den since you got to Aristillus. You don't have a deep-in-your-bones feel for how big Earth is. Nine billion people." He turned to look at all the Dogs. "Think about that. If the governments tax each citizen just a single blue-back per day, that's nine billion dollars. Per day. Think about the R&D they can do with that. How long do you think the AG drive will stay a secret against that kind of budget? A week later they got sixty-three billion dollars. What sort of invasion force can they build with that?"

  He shook his head somberly. "No. War isn't the answer. We just want to sit up here, nice and quiet, ignore them, and hope they ignore us. You think losing half the Dogs was bad? If you pick a war with Earth, you're going to see Aristillus wiped from the map, and then your species is going to be gone. Extinct. Forever." He paused. "We need to crouch down, be quiet, and wait for Earth to grow bored with us."

  Max sneered. "You used to be a warrior."

  John's jaw clenched. Damn it. After all he'd done f
or the Dogs, to have Max question him like this?

  Darcy said, "Max, that's not fair. You know as -"

  John cut her off. "Max, I know who I am and I know what I've done. I don't need your approval. If you don't want my leadership, leave."

  "I-"

  "No, I'm serious. No one's forcing you to stay here. Go back to Aristillus with Darcy, get her to introduce you to Mike, and try to start your war."

  Max met John's gaze and held it. Then, after a moment, he looked away.

  Blue looked back and forth between John and Max. Finally he lay down on his cushion and closed his eyes...but his ears remained erect and alert.

  This situation was bad. Very bad. The Earth governments were attacking lunar satellites, and there was no reason to think they'd stop there. John was engaging in wishful thinking. Blue couldn't blame him: after all he'd been through, of course the man wanted a quiet retirement. But now the Dogs had divided leadership. Max saw the war coming but was deep in an insane bloodlust...and John, the human, the adult, the only voice of sanity, seemed to be asleep.

  Blue breathed out heavily. He tried to will himself to sleep, but it wouldn't come.

  Chapter 24

  2064: Darcy's ship at Moscow Sea, Lunar Farside

  John's suit pinged; they'd reached the proper radius. He turned and looked back at Darcy's hopper, so small it was almost lost in the vast lunar landscape.

  As he watched the ship trembled, and then lifted. For the first few seconds it rose slowly, but the acceleration compounded and soon John was tilting his head back to track it as it rose against the blackness. Then it flared brightly as the old-fashioned chemical rockets kicked in, tipping it and pushing it toward the horizon...and then it was a dot, a pinprick...and then it was gone.

  John blinked. The ship had disappeared in barely more time than it took him to snap his fingers, and it made the whole episode of Darcy resupplying them feel like a dream. The ship was gone now, and so was Darcy. The only proof that she'd even been there was the bare patch of rock where she'd landed, the new load of supplies atop their old mule, and the three new mules standing alongside it.

  He turned his attention east. It was in his head, surely, but the black, white, and gray lunar ridges and craters seemed emptier and lonelier than they had a few weeks ago. He'd resisted Rex's aggressively enthusiastic suggestions that he should try the augmented reality filters. Now, though, with a cold dread hanging over him, he decided to give them a shot. He needed something to warm the cold landscape.

  He cycled through the overlays. African desert - no. Snow-covered Swiss peaks...no. After a dozen more he finally settled on one: leafy hardwood trees with canopies of green lightly dappled with touches of red, orange and yellow. It was labelled "Pacific Northwest" but it looked more like Maine or Vermont. Whatever - he could almost feel the first touch of fall in the air.

  "What overlay are you on?" Blue asked.

  John started - had he been talking out loud, or were filter choices shared in the local dataspace?

  "It's called 'Pacific Northwest,’ but I think it's New England."

  "Let me try it." A moment later Blue sniffed, slightly dismissively. "Eh. Looks like all the other forest overlays."

  "How can you say that? The fall colors - ah."

  "Maybe we'll be able to engineer trichromatic photoreceptors for the next generation.”

  John chuckled, then stopped. "Wait - you're serious?"

  "Sure. Why not?"

  He didn't have an answer to that.

  A moment later Blue added "- but if we had the funds to do that, we'd concentrate on life extension first."

  John winced. The lifespan issue had haunted all of them since they'd started digging through the genomic records looted from the labs. But what could they do? Genetic engineering research was expensive. Hugely so: that was one of the reasons - or, at least, justifications - that BuSuR had used to shut down the program.

  John turned Blue's comment about lifespan over in his mind as he walked, and his melancholy mood grew deeper. It was so unfair - the Dogs had been hacked to be as intelligent as humans. More intelligent, really. They were fully conscious beings, and yet they were doomed to short lives. And what constrained, tightly controlled lives. They'd spent their first years inside the lab, and even after John and the team liberated them, they'd exchanged one small facility for another. This trip, to "see the vastness of the natural world,” as they'd said in the planning stages, was supposed to get them out of the tunnels. But what were they really doing out here? Was he really making the days of the Dogs' limited lives count?

  He looked off to the south east, away from their intended path, and toyed with the idea he'd been playing with for the last hour yet again.

  - and then realized that he'd already made a decision. It was a crazy thought, but if the Dogs each had only another ten years, he should make every day count.

  "Guys, I'm thinking of a change of course."

  Blue, always the prudent one, responded first. "I don't think it's wise - with the communications problems -"

  "Darcy says Gamma's going to have sats back up in few more days, and with the extra mules we've got over a month's worth of supplies. As soon as we've got coms we'll call in and change the location of the next drop."

  Duncan asked, "What change of course?"

  "I'm thinking that we head a bit further south."

  "Why?"

  John grinned. "I'm getting bored out here looking at just rock and dust. I thought we might like to see something a bit more interesting."

  Chapter 25

  2064: Cartesian Registry Service office, Aristillus, Lunar Nearside

  Kevin stood in the outer office as the front desk girl pushed a button and announced him. He shook his head. A secretary? An intercom?

  A moment later she led him into to the inner office. Neil Aaronson sat behind his desk. Kevin approached and stuck out his hand. "Thanks for seeing me.”

  Aaronson looked at him without interest and then leaned forward to shake. "I have twenty minutes free. What can I do for you?"

  "I want to get to the bottom of this mess with Leroy and Mike."

  "Those two hate each other, but I don't see what I've got to do with it."

  Kevin blinked. "Uh...I think you and I are pretty central to this current mess."

  Neil looked at Kevin blandly. Kevin paused. He didn't believe for a minute that Aaronson didn't know the whole story already, and yet he was trying to play ignorant.

  Kevin licked his lips. "Look, Mike registered an 'Intent To Tunnel' with me a few months back. Our logs show that we checked with your database, and our logs show that your servers agreed that the cubic was unclaimed. And now Leroy is mining the same location."

  "So you allocated cubic to Mike that I'd already signed over to Leroy?"

  Kevin pursed his lips. He'd reviewed the logs - and the snapshotted, digitally signed backup copies of the logs - and they were clear: the rock Mike was tunneling through had been unclaimed when Kevin signed it over to him. Both men knew this. So what game was Aaronson playing?

  This was theater - but for whose benefit? Kevin's eyes flicked about the room. Was it bugged? Was this some setup where Neil was trying to get Kevin to say something that could be twisted against him? Or was it simpler than that? Were Aaronson and Leroy just trying to shake Mike down to get some payoff?

  That was an odd and unwelcome thought. The vast majority of competition in Aristillus was friendly - or, at the very least, civil. It wasn't like back home, where bribing government procurement offices and putting moles inside other firms competing for the same winner-take-all contracts were the norm.

  There was no way to know - and Neil's question was still hanging in the air. Choosing his words carefully Kevin spoke: "No. Mike has a registration on that space, signed and issued by my firm. Leroy's registration -"

  "Why would you issue a registration on space that I'd already allocated to MaisonNeuve?"

  Kevin started to lose his coo
l. "Neil, listen to me - you and I both know what happened here -"

  Neil smiled slightly. "I can't be sure, but it looks like what happened is that you issued a registration without checking with my systems."

  "Damn it, Neil, we checked! I've got logs-"

  "I've got logs too, and my logs show that we issued a registration to Leroy months before you issued yours to Mike." Neil folded his hands on his desk and leaned back. He shook his head sadly. "It looks like you and Mike have gotten yourselves into a big mess. I just feel sorry for Demir over at Veleka. That poor guy's screwed because Mike can't deliver the space he promised." He raised his eyebrows. "Because you've got buggy data. And now you've got an expensive problem. A very expensive problem."

  Kevin struggled not to lose his cool. A 'very expensive problem'? So it was a shakedown. On the other hand, even though it was an act of theft, this at least meant that there was a solution on the table. He breathed out. So. On with it. "OK, fine. Let's say - theoretically - that there's a bug in the data - how could two reasonable people resolve this? Theoretically?"

  Aarsonson smiled, uncrossed his arms, and leaned forward. "If there was a bug in your data and you wanted my help - well, I'm not sure there's much I could do. Of course I'd be happy to reconcile our two databases - but there are third parties who depend on my data."

  "Third parties, huh? So I don't only have to pay you off, I have to pay off Fournier?"

  Aarsonson turned his palms up with put a surprised look on his face. "Pay off? I'm not sure what you're talking about."

  The silence dragged on for a long moment before Aarsonson continued, "But if you wanted my help resolving this issue, I could probably get the as-yet-untunneled cubic back from Mr. Fournier and sell it you and Mike for, let's say, one million grams. ...And I suspect that MaisonNeuve Construction would sell Mike the space that they've already tunneled for another three -"

  Kevin's eyes bugged and he sputtered, "Four million? You must be joking!"

  Aarsonson shrugged and leaned back again.