by Dani Kollin
Allison, clearly fuming, bowed respectfully and began to make her way out of the bay. She was soon joined by a few other human crew members, who’d taken umbrage at the way their fellow crew member had been treated—diplomatic entreaty or no.
Suchitra should have known that the UHF would have added holo-filters to on-op iris displays after the Avatar Plague. But how could Trang not have warned her? Suchitra was kicking herself; she should’ve banned avatars from the bay, but over the last several weeks, she, like most, had gotten so used to seeing their avatars, literally and figuratively, that they’d come to accept them as just another part of the crew. They were so damn useful, after all.
“Wait a minute,” commanded Zenobia before Allison could leave.
“Admiral,” warned Suchitra, “this is a diplomatic mission, which you are now jeap—”
But Zenobia was no longer listening. Rage consumed her. “Your supposed race murdered ten billion human beings: my friends, my … family. Not fucking, zeros, ones, and qubits, but real, living humans!”
Allison’s eyes flared as she swung around, abandoning her supporters. She strode with angry, purposeful steps right at Zenobia. The avatar was so upset that she walked through several solid objects to make a beeline for the UHF admiral, when she normally would’ve gone around like a human. She stopped a foot from the object of her wrath. “Now, you listen to me.”
Zenobia’s eyes widened in shock. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t thought an avatar even had an opinion, much less one she’d march right up to her and express.
“There were over twenty billion avatars in the Core. I knew a lot of them—some for well over a hundred years. How many people in your life have you known for that long, Admiral? How many have you loved? Well, guess what, human, they’re all dead. Maybe you’re used to dead, being a meatbag, but our being just ones, zeros, and qubits,” she said in a mockery of Zenobia’s words, “meant we were supposed to live forever. That is, until your kind murdered them.”
“You started it!”
“Which is the only reason we don’t try to kill all of you murderous meatbag UHF fucks!” Allison finished in a roar. Then she held up her hands to her mouth, realizing what she’d said and, more important, felt. Her expression turned from one of rage to one of shock. She looked around at everyone in the landing bay imploringly. “They’re all dead. We’ve sent out searches at both Mars and Earth/Luna, and we get back … nothing. Twenty billion of our friends and parents and children … the children … and nothing,” she cried, looking desperately at the humans. “When you die, you have bodies, you have something, to bury.” She stopped searching and just looked down, her voice despairing. “At least you have something to mourn,” she said as the tears streamed down her face. Without looking up, she simply vanished.
Zenobia Jackson stood in abject silence, too stunned to move. And she too was forced to consider a side of the war that had never occurred to her. And seeing the pain and loss on one avatar’s face made the second-highest-ranking officer in the UHF realize that every avatar must have been capable of that level of emotion, had in essence been human. And that her government had just had tens of billions of them exterminated.
Presidential retreat
Lake Geneva
“What do you mean they’re just sitting there?” Hektor asked calmly to the gathered Cabinet members.
Luciana looked to Tricia, who nodded and stood up from her place at the Cabinet table. “Mr. President, for the last three days, the two fleets have been doing just that: sitting there. Our final word from Trang before he imposed the agreed-upon communication blackout was that the enemy fleet was approaching their position near Luna and battle was imminent.”
“From our vantage point,” offered Luciana, “it looked like they were getting ready to engage. Admiral Black’s fleet was much smaller but admittedly superior. Trang had been hoping to let the Alliance attack first. Beyond that, we had no idea what his plan was.” Luciana looked confused. “Magnetic fields were detected enhancing in both fleets, and both fleets had ships shut tight for atomic acceleration.”
“Then they just stopped,” said Tricia, obviously annoyed that she could not access her operatives in the UHF fleet due to the communications blackout.
“They did not just stop,” growled Hektor. “Something stopped them.” He called up a fuzzy image that would have been cleared up by automatic computer adjustment, but wasn’t. Another reminder of how much the world had changed with the lobotomization of the Neuro. “This image is blurred, but if I’m not mistaken, that is Blessed One, the primary means of transportation for the Unincorporated Woman or J. D. Black.”
“We can’t absolutely confirm that, sir,” said Tricia. “But we are eighty percent certain it is Blessed One or an executive-class transport made to look like it.”
“That ship flies out between the fleets and they do nothing?” Hektor sounded dangerously split between confusion and rage. “Shouldn’t our fleet have blown the hell out of it? Isn’t that what our ships are supposed to do to their ships?”
“The possible Blessed One may have communicated with Trang’s flagship,” said Luciana. “We don’t know for certain, because if they did, it was done using direct laser burst on a coded frequency, and we no longer have the computing power to scan for it in the ranges the Alliance can still use. But we do know that soon after, an Alliance shuttle landed on UHFS Liddel. Two hours after that shuttle left the UHF vessel, the Alliance fleet retreated three hundred thousand kilometers from our fleet. Both fleets powered down their magnetic fields, but have kept them at the ready. An hour after that, a UHF shuttle left the Liddel and went to an Alliance frigate, whose identity can’t be confirmed but is believed to be the Otter. That would be the flagship of Fleet Admiral Suchitra Kumari Gorakhpur. An hour after arriving, the shuttle left. Then our fleet moved behind the Moon and we’ve since lost contact. That was three days ago, and in that time we’ve heard nothing. There have been no detectable communications between us and our fleet, and as far as we can tell none between the Alliance fleet and Saturn. Until we can get reliable assets on the far side of the Moon, we just won’t know for sure.”
“Are they communicating with each other?” asked Hektor tersely.
“We don’t know, sir,” was the simultaneous reply of both Luciana and Tricia.
“Sir, we must tell the people something. They’re scared and struggling enough as it is. But the uncertainty of a battle that is neither won nor lost on top of everything that they’ve suffered cannot be withstood much longer.”
“Tell what’s left of the media outlets,” answered Hektor dourly, “that a brief statement will be issued in twelve hours. Make sure that it goes out on radio. Let Trang know he has a deadline.”
Franklin kept shaking his head, jabbing at his DijAssist, seemingly getting more and more frustrated. Finally he dropped the DijAssist onto the table with a pronounced clatter and looked to the only person he knew who always seemed to have all the answers.
“What do you think’s going on, sir?”
“You want to know what’s going on? Have any of you studied a war called World War One?” He saw from their blank expressions that not a one of them had. “It bears study because the war was won not so much on who had the best weapons or most skilled soldiers and officers. It was won because one side collapsed before the other, and it hadn’t always been clear who would crack first. Well, that’s the situation we’re in now, but that is not why I brought up this First World War. I brought it up because I was amazed to discover the moment the leaders on both sides of the war were most afraid of. Now, this is the war that killed millions in, for them, brand-new despicable ways. Poison gas and airplanes were used and machine guns mowed down countless lives. It was like Anderson’s Farm or the Vlasov Ice Fields, only with more primitive weapons and on a single planet.” No one said a word; all remembered the grinding tragedy of those early campaigns. “But despite all of that, the time the leaders of both sides were most
afraid was early in the war, when it was only six months old. A holiday called Christmas, that takes place around New Year’s Day, was important to both sides in this war. The night before this Christmas, on a large section of the battle front, both sides stopped killing each other. Despite stern warning from their officers, the soldiers on both sides stopped killing each other. They got out of their defenses, walked up to each other, and sang songs together, drank together. They played games and talked about what it was like at home.”
Franklin scratched his head. “Why weren’t they shot for insubordination?”
“Both sides would have had to shoot half their armies. No one was punished, and the next day, everyone went back to killing each other, much to the relief of the leaders. But for every other Christmas in the war, both sides made sure that their soldiers were too busy ducking to risk another bout of spontaneous peace.”
Irma was busy making notes in her DijAssist. “Do you think that’s what happened here?”
“I think someone read the same history I did,” said Hektor, tapping his finger impatiently on the edge of the table, “and I think they figured out how to stall this war. And if we don’t get it started again real soon, then we’ve surely lost.”
CLARA ROBERTS: What on Earth is going on? It’s been three days, and all we can confirm is that both fleets are looking at each other from far away. Something has stopped what may have been the climatic and hopefully final battle of the war; I have no idea what. Let’s get your ideas. Our first caller is from the Fairbanks Settlement, newly arrived from the Belt. Welcome, caller number one.
CALLER NUMBER ONE: Thank you for having me, Clara. I’m tickled pink that I can actually call in. Usually I just listen because of the time lag.
CLARA: I’m sorry we were forced out of our homes, but at least I get to talk with you. So, what do you think is going on?
CALLER ONE: I think it’s some sort of Avatar Plague. (a voice in the background) It’s not your call, Levitt.
CLARA: Trouble at home, caller?
CALLER ONE: It’s my avatar. He thinks I’m nuts. I tell you, Clara, I liked it better when they pretended not to exist. Now we can’t get them to shut up.
CLARA: Let’s get him on the air. Levitt, hook up.
LEVITT: Clara Roberts! By the Firstborn, this is such an honor. I’ve been listening to your show since you were part of the American Express Travel Blog & Log.
CLARA: Well, that might be the nicest thing an avatar has said to me, Levitt, but let’s not talk about the ancient past. You disagree with caller one?”
LEVITT: Absolutely. Sasha is thinking anything that goes wrong in the UHF must be because of avatars. Like humans hadn’t been screwing stuff up long before we showed on the scene. Now, I can’t speak for the UHF fleet—who knows how screwed up they are over there? But our fleet has the best humans and avatars fighting on those ships. We’ve survived seven years of this war, and I refuse to believe that something so pernicious happened to our ships that they couldn’t even send us message.
CLARA: Sounds like you have reason to know. Anyone you know with the fleet?
LEVITT: (sounding bashful yet proud) My daughter is serving on the AWS Claim Jumper, and I have a nephew serving on the AWS Feied.
CALLER ONE: He talks about them all the time. Lorie this and Leslie that. I thought only humans bored the crap out of you with stories of their kids.
CLARA ROBERTS: Some things are universal, it seems, but we have to go to the next caller. Caller two is from a Kansas Collective Agricultural Settlement, and I see here that your settlement is one of the oldest orbiting Saturn.
CALLER TWO: Absolutely, Clara. They say we were founded by one of the original Chos, but no one knows which one. I love your show, Clara, and want to echo the previous caller’s comment that I’m tickled pink to be able to actually call in. But I can’t help but notice my fellow avatar did not actually answer your question and want to help out.
CLARA: Good of you to represent. So what do you think happened: civil war, computer virus, bio weapon, alien contact? What could have stopped that battle?
CALLER TWO: I think the President did it.
CLARA ROBERTS: Which one?
CALLER TWO: Ours, of course.
—The Clara Roberts Show
AIR Radio Network
Stellar Observation Dome, Level 1
University of Tycho
Luna
Luna was dead. Of the over six billion people who lived on it, only fourteen thousand or so had survived. But the Alliance was overjoyed to discover that a group of twenty-seven survivors contacted them directly because two of them happened to be NITEs. Sandra decided that it would be best to contact Trang and ask permission to rescue the survivors who’d lived by hiding deep in the ground in a space that had been newly dug but not been fitted out with anything like life support, power, water, information nets, and the like. A joint team was assembled, and the party was rescued. A problem developed when it was discovered that the NITEs had saved 4,326 inert avatars in portable storage devices. At first, the UHF half of the team wanted to follow standing orders, which called for all such devices to be partitioned and scrubbed. This ran counter to Alliance standing orders for avatars, which called for rescue and debriefing. Luckily, the officers in charge of the joint rescue operation had been picked for their initiative and level-headedness and so, wisely shoved that problem up the chain of command. It was resolved to debrief everyone, NITEs, humans, and avatars on the surface at the comfortable but abandoned Tycho University observatory. It was so out of date that it hadn’t been used for decades. This meant no one had bothered to destroy or booby-trap it, which further meant it had been easy to secure. The observatory still had dormitories, conference rooms, and a cafeteria. After the debriefing, it turned out that two of the avatars had been operatives for Al and participated in the death of Luna. Sandra and Gwendolyn immediately signed off on their being turned over to the UHF military, which executed them at once, using the decompiler program. But the UHF did not say a word when the two NITEs and 4,324 avatars returned to the Alliance fleet. The UHF was glad to have saved even twenty-five of their own from the charnel house that Luna had become.
When the operation was done, it occurred to someone in the Alliance fleet that the obsolete observatory would actually make a useful neutral ground. After some brief discussions, two teams returned and prepared the location for its new purpose, and the fleets were repositioned to keep accidents from happening.
And that was how Admiral Janet Delgado Black and Admiral Samuel U. Trang met for the first time. It was on the Moon, and the two were separated only by a simple table. Fatima Awala and Tabitha Ross were the only other personnel present in the room. Sandra O’Toole had agreed with J.D. that this was not a meeting she should be at. If this peace was going to work, both admirals would have to sell it for all it was worth, and Sandra realized they wouldn’t be able to do that without checking each other out first—one on one, face-to-face.
Each entered from opposite sides of the room. They both stood for a long moment and sized each other up, as if studying a particularly complicated piece of sculpture. Both seemed to absorb every detail they could, making what judgments they could, and then, as if hearing a mutual silent bell, saluted each other at the same moment. Then and only then did the pressure ease slightly, and they both sat down with their aides standing far enough behind not to be obtrusive but close enough to respond if needed.
“Welcome to Luna, Admiral Black,” Trang said dryly.
“I’m sorry it had to be like this, Admiral Trang.” J.D. swept her arm to encompass everything. “What’s going to happen to this place?” she asked, delaying one painful question for another.
“Well,” he answered with a half smile, “there are a lot of Martians that you made homeless. If we work this out, one way or another, they can always move in here.”
J.D. ignored the slight and the implied threat. “They’re welcome to it. There’s too much death here.�
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It seemed that Trang was about to say something, but he held back and after a moment his face changed from slightly hostile to sad. “There is too much death here. But what choice did we have?”
“With the Martian refugees, none I guess. But we have other choices to make now. When war becomes what we’ve made it, the only thing that matters are those who do the fighting. And those who do the fighting listen to us. So what are we going to do, Admiral?”
Trang sighed. “That is easy for you to say. You have your President and by extension your government backing your every move.”
The echo of J.D.’s laugh bounced around the room. “Just up and leave the solar system? Do you think that’ll be popular? Many people in the Alliance think we’re winning this war—” She paused briefly. “—idiots.”
“Hell, you are winning this war if you base it on the numbers,” Trang said. “In terms of effective population and industrial capacity, we’re about equal and you might recover faster than us. You have the better ships and crews, even if you don’t have enough of them.”
“We have enough, Trang,” J.D. said defensively. But there was no real venom. The warriors had not really come to fight, just negotiate. They were both comfortable disagreeing with each other, and if it really came to it—which neither of them, they realized, really wanted to happen—they’d find out, one way or the other.
“But the President is right. I wasn’t sure until I came here. When I stepped onto this once vibrant and newly dead world, I knew she was right. I think I can beat you, Trang. And I will if I have to,” she said with absolute conviction that only brought a smile of recognition and respect from her opposite number. “But the thing is, I no longer want to. The prize isn’t worth it. Luna proves that some victories come at too high a price, and I will not give my child a slaughterhouse to live in if I have any other choice.”
