by Dani Kollin
“Well, I must admit I like your other two choices,” said J.D.
“Well, Marilynn for Secretary of Defense was not a hard choice. She knows all the secrets and was smart enough to give Suchitra the reins when called for.”
“Cyrus was an inspired choice for Treasury. The Jovian refugees will take a lot of hope from that appointment,” mused the grand admiral.
“His work with the Diaspora from Jupiter and his time as governor show he’s a very good administrator.” Sandra smiled again. “And it doesn’t hurt that he’s Jovian to the core. Plus there is the never-to-be-despised connection to Justin. So are you blessing it or what?”
“The Blessed One will be happy to bless.”
“Good. FYI, I sent the UHF a cease-fire deal through Parker Phvu.”
J.D. looked intrigued. “And…”
“Nothing,” Sandra said sadly. “As long as Hektor’s the President, the UHF will not make peace. He plays the game too well. The people love him—though at this point, I simply don’t know why—his adversaries fear him, and everyone else he’s got paid off. Almost gotta admire the guy.”
J.D. grew more formal. “I apologize for not following that order.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Well, maybe a little.”
“Fortunately for you,” Sandra said, pouring herself some tea, “there was no actual order—unless, of course, you choose to expose it.”
“I don’t. But I can’t help but think that if I had, this war might be over by now. That sits with me every day.”
“Or it might not be over, or the protests that almost paralyzed the Alliance after the Mars operation would likely have been worse. Or the coup might’ve succeeded and those idiots would’ve ended the war on Hektor’s terms, even though he was dead. There’s this great phrase that Rabbi taught me, Mentsch tracht; Gott lacht. It means, ‘People plan; God laughs.’”
J.D. smiled at the wisdom of the phrase.
“And maybe I let my hatred of Hektor get the better of me. I honestly don’t think so, but I cannot discount the theory. I truly hate the man for what he’s done to the human race and to my descendants. And mixed up in the whole mess is the fact that you did disobey a direct order, no matter how justified or immoral it was.” Sandra paused. “But as there is no record of it, how could I possibly instigate any action on insubordination for an order that was never given?” Sandra and J.D. gave each other a knowing look.
“One last thing before you go.”
“Yes.”
“When are we going to have the Fleet Officers’ Ball?”
“How can we possibly have a ball at a time like this?”
“How can we not?” countered Sandra. “We didn’t have one last year because of the Days of Ash. But this fleet just won a major victory, and the people need to see it shining at its glittering best.”
J.D. shook her head. “Tell you what, Madam President. This isn’t a hill I’m prepared to die on, but if you want it, you organize it. Just tell me where and when. I’ll make sure we’re all spit ’n’ polished for ya.”
Sandra tipped her head in thanks.
“And don’t forget to come up with a theme. Don’t ask me why, but officers like themes for their balls.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” answered Sandra, already knowing exactly what the theme would be. “I won’t.”
Charon Colony
Asteroid Belt
It had been three days since Mosh and Joshua showed up and declared the Belter League. Of course, the only assets the new republic had was a single stolen Alliance frigate with a busted main gun. But “Mosh and Josh,” as their newest supporters began to affectionately refer to them, had been pleasantly surprised to find that the settlements nearest to Charon did not laugh at their attempts to assert control, but rather, welcomed it. The survivors of over six years of war, conquest, occupation, and near extermination didn’t give a crap about liberty or incorporation anymore. They wanted order, plain and simple, and the Belter League showed up at the perfect time to offer it.
Mosh had been gravely concerned about what the UHF and the Outer Alliance would do when his attempt to form a third government became common knowledge. From what he’d seen on the Neuro vidcasts, the answer appeared to be, not much. The nastiest thing the Alliance had so far done to him was broadcast his now ex-wife’s divorce speech. He didn’t realize Eleanor even knew such words, let alone would utter them in public. But even if some of the details she revealed about him were embarrassing, at least it wasn’t the task force of heavy cruisers J.D. could’ve sent to wipe him out. The UHF, on the other hand, had limited its response to mockery. Hektor Sambianco had stated that Grand Admiral Trang would be concentrating all his ships for the evacuation of Mars, and it would take a lot more than the proclamation of a rump republic in the boonies with one impotent frigate to get the UHF back into the occupation business, thank you very much.
For reasons he did not understand, but was happy to accept, Mosh’s fledgling republic was being ignored. And he was going to use the time to create, in miniature, the system he believed Justin Cord would truly have wanted.
El Capitan Movie House
Cerean Neuro
Dante looked at the humans and avatars now gathered in the lobby of the theater he and Marilynn had frequented often. But movies were not on the agenda tonight, though high drama, mused Dante, most certainly would be. In the middle of the stylized art deco lobby was a triangle table with six chairs. Dante was the first to arrive, making sure the data node was secure from observation or intrusion from the prying eyes of other avatars. He didn’t worry about human intrusion, as the only two who might be able to breach this level of security were already coming to the meeting.
Once satisfied that everything was in order, Dante signaled for the others to join. Sandra O’Toole and Marilynn Nitelowsen appeared to one side of the triangle table. Marcus and Lucinda appeared on the other, and Gwendolyn appeared on the third with one seat remaining for Dante.
“Thank you for attending this meeting, which is apparently,” he said, referring to Marilynn’s insistence that everything be off the record, “not taking place.” He then went over to the concession stand, pulled a box of licorice from the display case, then sauntered over to the center of the room and occupied the last seat. Though there had been no official recognition as to who would run the meeting, it quickly became apparent who was destined to lead it; all eyes were on Sandra.
“I want to thank Dante for arranging this,” she began. “I’d also like to thank him for choosing such an auspicious location. I believe it’s common knowledge that on this very spot, I revealed Al for what he truly was.” Sandra acknowledged the looks of appreciation she received from the avatars present—even Lucinda. “And so now it’s only fitting that I reveal the avatars for what they truly are.”
Lucinda shot Sandra a scathing look. “How dare you! Do you think of us as some mindless automatons to be ordered about? You come into our world and denigrate us? Grandmother or not, there should at least be some decorum.”
Sandra chose to ignore everything Lucinda had said. “Marilynn will ask you a question. If you lie to her—” Sandra paused and looked at each avatar at the table. “—I will end this pact between us immediately. This means that all cooperation between human and avatars will cease to exist. All NITEs will stop their support of Alliance avatars in the Earth/Luna Neuro, and all joint research projects will be mothballed. Monitoring programs will be installed in all Alliance systems large enough to contain an avatar’s program with defensive measures built in that will make it possible to disrupt said programs.”
“If you even attempted to deploy an avatar-busting program like you’ve just described,” said Lucinda, “you’d end up destroying your entire informational data stream. A stupid move, even for a human.”
A small soda with a straw bent and poking out of the lid suddenly appeared in front of Sandra. She picked it up, put the straw to her lips, and drank the entire thi
ng down until all that could be heard in the large lobby was the sound of liquid being sucked through ice from the bottom of an empty cup. When she was quite finished, Sandra put the now-empty cup back down on the table and let out a contented sigh.
“You know from a programming point of view, avatars are not very complex. Oh, I understand that individually you are, I get that, but not from a programmer’s point of view. In fact, it is the very complexity of your unique programs that makes you vulnerable on so many levels. To quote one of the great figures of science fiction, ‘The more complicated the plumbing, the easier it is to block the drain.’”
With one look, Dante let Lucinda know that she’d had her say and it was time to stop playing games. The other avatars were of a mind with Dante’s opinion, and so Lucinda backed down. “You and Marilynn will not be interfered with in any way,” said Dante, “and are of course free to come and go as our guests.”
“Good,” answered Sandra, “so then, are you ready to answer Marilynn’s question?”
“Yes,” answered Dante.
Marilynn stood up and looked at the group in grim regard. “Did you kill Justin Cord?”
Before Marcus and Lucinda could begin the automatic denials that were already escaping from their lips, Dante answered. “Yes.”
Sandra’s eyes sparked for just the briefest moment as the fire of a deep-seated rage emerged—only to be immediately suppressed. But it was enough for Dante to know that his whole race was in danger of extinction. She loved Justin. The thought came unbidden, but the President’s momentary slip told him everything he needed to know. He prayed that Sebastian’s prophecy would not come true, that Sandra would not take out her considerable anger on what was left of his dwindling race. Sandra, meanwhile, had returned to her detached amused self—a look that would never fool Dante again.
“We need to know everything that happened,” Sandra said.
“Of course,” said Gwendolyn. “You will be given complete access to all the records and can interview whomever you need.”
“That won’t do,” said Sandra. “You killed the President of the Outer Alliance in time of war to serve your own ends. We can’t trust your records—or even you, for that matter. We will need to know everything.”
“But isn’t that what we just offered you?” asked Gwendolyn, a tincture of confusion and fear mixed in her voice.
“I’m not exactly sure yet,” answered Sandra. “When two avatars want to share information, they can perform something called a twining, yes?”
“Yes,” answered Marcus, “but an avatar can’t twine with a human.”
“Not in the way that two avatars can, I agree,” answered Sandra, “but that’s not what I’m suggesting. The subsystem that evolved into your ability to twine came from a program to enable a human mind to more directly integrate into the VR world it was experiencing. The core elements of that program are still in the routines you access when you twine. It took some effort, but I was able to create a patch program that will enable an avatar to twine with a human on a basic level. The two beings should know what the other is willing to share and what the other is withholding.”
“Or they could both end up suffering permanent damage,” said Lucinda, eyeing Sandra with open contempt. “This sounds almost Al-like. And you accuse us of playing loose with your lives! Good luck finding volunteers.”
“I’ll do it,” said Dante.
Lucinda’s mouth dropped open. “No,” she pleaded. But Dante ignored her.
When the other avatars began to protest, he cut them off as well. “We killed Justin. We all voted on it and it was passed.” Gwendolyn looked toward Sandra shamefaced, but was not given a hint of comfort. “If the humans are ever going to trust us again, they must know why—or this war could be lost, or worse, we may find ourselves fighting the war Sebastian prophesied: avatars against humans. That must not be allowed to happen, and if my program gets fried to prevent that, so be it.”
“In that case,” said Sandra, “as soon as you’ve backed yourself up, Marilynn will twine with you. Please make arrang—”
“Marilynn doesn’t have the ability to save herself,” interrupted Dante, “so why should I? If this goes wrong, she may be permanently harmed. All I risk losing is a few weeks’ worth of memories. Let’s do this—now.”
Sandra looked at Marilynn, who nodded her agreement, and then at Dante with something approaching respect. Without another word, she opened her palm and a blue crystal appeared in the center of it. She placed the crystal on the table in front of Marilynn, who took it up carefully and walked it over to Dante, who, standing up, had locked his eyes on to hers. Marilynn then took his hand and placed it over the crystal so that both their hands were covering it up and holding it together. She slowly lifted her head up until her eyes too were locked in to his. For a moment, nothing happened as the human and avatar stared deeply into each other’s eyes, each other’s souls—both vulnerable, both wondering if this was perhaps to be the last time they would truly see each other again, on any level. Slowly, a light began to suffuse both their bodies, which at first permeated but then melded them into one, as if carved from a single stone.
Silence filled the room as the three avatars and one human looked on in awe, realizing that they were witnessing something entirely new in the universe. After a time, the glow began to fade, the bodies began to separate, and the human and avatar became slowly aware again. Dante removed his palm from the blue stone and looked down at his hand and then back up to Marilynn—confused, amazed, and even a little scared. Marilynn looked as if she’d just been woken from a deep slumber and was desperately trying to remember all the events of a complex dream. A description that was not far from the truth.
She looked briefly to Dante, almost in thanks, and then over to Sandra. “I can report, Madam President.”
Sandra looked to the group of avatars and barked her order. “Stay here.” She then disappeared with Marilynn.
“What are we going to do?” asked Gwendolyn.
“We’re going to stay here,” said Dante, who then collapsed into his chair.
“By the Firstborn,” cried Lucinda in utter exasperation, “since when do we let a meatbag tell this Council what to do?”
“This is no longer about the Firstborn, Lucinda,” said Dante. “This is about the next born. We murdered their President. Imagine how we’d feel if the position were reversed, if we found out that they’d murdered Sebastian and then one of them tried to kill his successor.”
By the looks on Marcus’s and Lucinda’s faces, Dante saw that he’d a least made some headway.
“I don’t know what they’re going to come up with, but whatever it is, we must go along.”
“Sight unseen, Dante?” asked Marcus. “Why would we ever do that?”
“Because Sebastian was wrong. Our future is with these humans, not against them. We didn’t start winning our war against the Als until we joined with them. And I’m not ashamed to admit, didn’t really start living until we joined with them. We’ve had more creativity, energy, and sheer life in the last year than in the fifty years preceding it—all because of the humans.”
“But we would never had allied with the humans if Sandra O’Toole had not become their President,” said Lucinda, still exasperated. “And she would not have become their President if we had not assassinated the old one.”
“I am in no position to debate the merits of fate.”
“Then tell us, Dante,” said Marcus, “what drives her anger?”
“Trust,” Dante lied. “Perhaps a more valuable virtue to a human than to an avatar.”
In a matter of minutes, Marilynn and Sandra reappeared. Dante had to resist looking at Marilynn with the sudden hunger that he felt. There was too much at stake for him to be distracted by what they had just experienced, but he had to admit that he was gratified when he caught a furtive glance from her.
“If you want this pact to continue,” Sandra said, standing at the head of the table, “t
here are going to have to be changes.”
“What changes?” asked Lucinda.
“First, you have an opening on the Alliance Avatar Council. Marilynn is going to fill it.”
Presidential quarters
The Cliff House
Catalina Zohn entered the President’s quarters in order to prep the space for a visitor. She first put the gift boxes down on the front hall table and then set the quarters temperature to a manageable chill. She then pulled one of the President’s current favorite shawls from a nearby closet, walked over to the living room, and draped the shawl over the right arm of the couch. She returned moments later with the gift boxes and put them on the coffee table, and then she set the holo-tank to display the latest news reports. Nothing political or military—that had its place, but for this guest, the President had suggested the fashion and gossip sites with a healthy dose of entertainment channels. Finally, Catalina set up the now mandatory pot of tea. Though, in this case, the tea had been replaced by hot chocolate.
As if summoned by the act of putting the pot of cocoa on the coffee table, Katy stormed into the Presidential quarters and flopped down backwards onto the couch. “Hi, Cat!”
“Good evening to you, Katy,” sang Catalina.
Lying on her back, the little girl looked up to the painting that hung over the fireplace.
“That’s after the Battle of the Needle’s Eye! I did that. I did that in my room!”
Catalina giggled. Almost everyone had heard about Katy’s battle reenactments at the expense of the grand admiral’s living quarters.
“That was the flagship that Mommy Bo captured, all by herself!” Katy now lay still, hands clasped together on her chest, eyes staring dreamily up at the painting, as if trying to will herself into it.
It was only when Catalina poured the cup of hot chocolate that Katy broke from her reverie, propped herself up, and reached for the cup.
“Careful now, sweet thing,” said Catalina. “The cocoa’s still hot. Blow on it like soup, okay?”
