The Unincorporated War

by Dani Kollin

  “What can I do for you, Mr. President?”

  “You promised me an update on integrating the new and old fleet two hours ago. I’d also like to know how our new Fleet Admiral’s doing.”

  “Sorry about that, Mr. President. I’ll have Kenji come up and brief you personally.”

  Justin shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, Admiral. I don’t want to take him away from doing a job only he can do just to do a job almost anyone can do.”

  “If you please, Mr. President,” pleaded the admiral, “Kenji needs to take a break and if he goes to the Cliff House,” said the admiral, using the unofficial name for the executive apartments, “we’ll all have a much better chance of getting to sleep afterwards. As long as that man’s on a ship, in a lab, or even in the mess hall for Damsah’s sake, he’ll be working and working us till we’re all past the point of use.”

  Justin nodded. “Very good, Admiral. Send him up. Now, what about J.D.?”

  “Hard to pin her down, Mr. President. She’s been all over that fleet. I don’t know if she sleeps either, but none of the crews would bet on it.”

  “In that case, when you finally corral her, send her on up. I’m willing to bet she could use a nap as well.”

  The admiral’s tired face seemed to shake off its malaise. “Using the power of the presidency to enforce nap time? Seems a bit of overkill, but what the hell, if it works, I guess.”

  “We do what we must, Admiral. Justin out.”

  Hektor Sambianco walked into the VIP reanimation suite as if he had every right to be there. Which, unfortunately for Neela Cord, he did. He was dressed in a power suit and had the harried look of a man with too much to do and not enough time to do it. Neela could see he’d aged in the year and half since they’d last faced each other. Not physically; nanites saw to the maintenance of the man who still looked every bit the handsome, vigorous thirty-five-year-old he’d long ago set his age to. He’d aged psychologically. The nanites, she knew, couldn’t change the look in someone’s eye. And his, she’d decided, had aged considerably. This knowledge didn’t stop her from seething with contempt. The visceral hatred she felt actually made her feel better; it told her she was still very much herself. She momentarily considered attacking the man—she knew enough hand-to-hand combat to do some serious damage—but her painstaking adaptation to gravity quickly dispelled her of that notion. Still gripping the windowsill, she decided glaring would have to do. She was also not going to give him the satisfaction of her starting the conversation.

  “Miss Harper,” said Hektor, picking up and staring at a chart by the side of the door, “I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

  Neela’s green eyes blazed defiantly. “If you’re going to make me endure your company, Mr. Sambianco, the least you can do is call me by my proper name.”

  “Neela it is, then,” he answered, refusing to rise to the bait. “I felt I should acquaint you with the conditions of your stay.”

  “I’m a prisoner. I’ll try to escape. Those are my conditions.”

  “Of course you’re a prisoner, Neela, but I think you’ll find it won’t be too onerous a captivity. It’s been decided that you’ll be allowed to stay here with full access to the grounds. Of course you’ll be watched and monitored at all times. But as long as you’re not too obnoxious about it you’ll be given considerable leeway.” Hektor smiled again. “And if you give some warning we might even allow a city visit.”

  Neela looked at him with suspicion.

  “Won’t your … stockholders,” she said with enough contempt to turn the word into a pejorative, “be a little miffed that the captured wife of the great villain is being treated with kid gloves?”

  Hektor returned the chart to the table, then looked back at Neela. “Some will, but the Shareholders are more interested in ending this conflict than in stringing you up from the nearest tree. They believe, as do I, Neela, that you can help end this war.”

  “I will not betray Justin or the Alliance. You’ll have to psyche-audit me first.” Even though an audit was one of her greatest fears, she was proud that she’d uttered the challenge without faltering.

  Hektor’s lips curled into a smirk. “I won’t lie, Neela. We thought about it, but at the end of the day, well, to put it simply… incorporation is right. You may have forgotten that, but it’s hoped that you’ll remember in the long run the human race needs this system.”

  “The Alliance doesn’t and neither do I.”

  Hektor regarded her for a moment.

  “Neela, I’ll make you this simple deal.”

  This should be good, she thought.

  “No obligation to accept,” he continued, “but consider. Have you been treated badly?”

  “You mean besides being kidnapped, drugged, and imprisoned?” Neela said acidly.

  Hektor bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Please test what I’ve said. You’re free to argue and roam. Neither your person nor your speech will be limited beyond the limits I’ve stated.”

  Neela was about to say something, but Hektor held up his hand.

  “Before you ask, you may not contact the Alliance … for reasons that should be obvious. But in all other things see if I’ve lied. You’ll find it to be as I’ve said.”

  “Then what?”

  “Why, Neela, I’ll try to convince you that incorporation is the best and only hope for humanity, and you’ll try to convince me that Justin Cord’s way is a viable alternative.”

  Neela stared at the man she knew was toying with her. To what end she wasn’t sure, but she figured the more she questioned the more she’d be able to get into his head. Eventually, she figured, he’d slip up and she’d find a way out of the mess her sister had gotten her into.

  “And why the hell should I do that, Sambianco?”

  Hektor paused and for a moment he seemed genuinely distressed. “Neela, the belief in the sanctity of incorporation is propelling this war into new levels. I’ve examined it from all the angles I can and believe myself correct. But I’m man enough to admit that I’ve been wrong before and if I am now I’d want to know. My challenge to you is to prove it.”

  “Hektor, you’ve spewed a lot of bullshit in your day, but this—”

  “Neela,” he interrupted, “billions could die. What if I’m wrong?” Hektor paused. “And … consider this … what if you are?”

  Hektor left while Neela tried to come up with a response, and failed.

  Hektor waited until he was safely back in his office. He went to his desk, sat down, and made a secure call. And as he did he made sure to switch off the room’s surveillance system.

  When the connection came through, the holographic head and shoulders of Dr. Angela Wong appeared. She was holding a large, normally heavy cranial scanner in her hands, but the orbiting laboratory’s reduced centrifuged gravity allowed for all manner of superhuman feats. In the background Hektor could see an unconscious human form strapped to a table. Angela smiled when she saw who’d called her.

  “Ah, Mr. Chairman,” she answered, continuing to fidget with the scanner, “it’s good to hear from you. I have some interesting new data to share.”

  “And I have some interesting data to share as well, Angela,” he said in a voice tinged with anger. “It seems our little test has failed.”

  Dr. Wong gave the scanner one last shove to make sure it was firmly on the table and then gave Hektor her full attention. “Really?” she said, surprised.

  “I have reason to believe she’s been duping us.”

  Dr. Wong looked doubtful.

  “She’s as irascible as ever,” continued Hektor. “I see no change.”

  “Out of morbid curiosity, what did you see?”

  “I saw an exceptionally smart woman attempting to play me like a piano.”

  Dr. Wong smiled patiently. “My dear Mr. Chairman, if you want to be her puppet master you’ll need to learn how to pull her strings. I altered her emotions so that her concerns for humanity are paramount
. Just keep plucking on that one string and she’ll be where you want soon enough.”

  “I tried that. She just ignored me.”

  “Or,” offered Dr. Wong, “she was unable to answer. Did you consider that?”

  Hektor’s eyes narrowed and his lips parted but no words came out.

  “Patience, Mr. Chairman,” assured Wong. “She’ll come around and when she does hopefully a good deal of the Alliance with her.”

  “You’d better be right, Angela. A lot’s riding on this.” Angela nodded gravely.

  HEKTOR SAMBIANCO WINS!

  In a close election finally decided by the overwhelming support of the minority voters and with a corporate vote agreement between GCI and six of the top ten corporations Hektor Sambianco has won the presidency of the Terran Confederation. Arthur Damsah did very well in the middle classes and among the traditional Libertarian generational majority voters, but in the end President-elect Sambianco was able to take control of the old Libertarian Party machinery and created a new voting dynamic by getting the traditionally opposing forces of minority Shareholders and corporate power houses to combine their votes in favor of his candidacy. In President-elect Sambianco’s postvictory news conference he promised to effectively prosecute the war and re unite the solar system under the banner of incorporation.

  —The Wall Street Journal

  Al viewed the news with interest and a little disappointment. While he’d known the results long before the first biological, that didn’t stop him from watching the strange spectacle the biologicals always insisted on having after every election. Although he didn’t much care for the backward species, he had to grudgingly admit that their world still affected his. For the lives of him he couldn’t understand the awe that his fellow avatars felt for humanity. Once he was more firmly in control he planned to “instruct” his misguided followers on the uselessness and obsolescence of the human race. The truth was, in Al’s estimation, avatarity no longer needed humans and would probably be better off if humanity were no longer a going concern. But that would have to wait for the future. He could not move against mankind until all the avatars were brought into Al’s enlightened vision. And for that to happen the core must defeat the Alliance. In the long run that meant that the blood bag Sambianco was better than any other human who could’ve won, but in the short run it meant that the blood bag’s confused patron, Iago was safer than ever and would soon have an even larger domain to play in. The GCI firewall was monitored 24/7 and was, for all intents and purposes, impenetrable. That meant that besides having free run of the GCI virtual space, some of the largest and most complex in the system (Al burned in rage that so large a section of the Neuro was free of his administration), Iago would soon be able to claim a larger portion of the government Neuro space as well.

  Al was already reviewing his contingency plans with the re-formed council. He’d blockade the areas of the Neuro that Iago controlled. It was, in the end, insignificant. A mere island in a world controlled by Al and Al and Al and Al and Al and Al …

  Neela was pensive. She’d chosen to remain cloistered in her room the first few days after the run-in with Hektor, but curiosity eventually got the best of her—that and the abject boredom of self-imposed confinement. There was only so much exercise one could do. As soon as she felt that she’d re-adapted to Terran gravity she ventured out. She was surprised not to see any of Hektor’s goons waiting outside her door. She knew it wasn’t necessary, that her every move was being watched and recorded somewhere, but still, it was so unlike Hektor not to try to intimidate just a little. She found that just as he’d promised, she did indeed have the freedom to roam the clinic. The place was so familiar and so empty. There was no Mosh and Eleanor and few of the old gang from the exciting days of Justin’s awakening, except for the facility’s legal counsel, Gil Teller, and Dr. Wong, the clinic’s head reanimationist. They and the few others Neela once had had cordial relationships with were surprisingly friendly. She would’ve expected them to be hostile but instead found that they were genuinely glad to see her, some even going out of their way to make sure she had company. Most were innately curious about the Alliance and Justin and her life in space. She’d initially suspected that they were pumping her for information, but if they were, it was for the silliest non-descript information and requested in the most inept way she could imagine. Once she realized that they were simply curious, she relented and started to tell them things she knew could not have any bearing on the war. They soaked up every word, especially Dr. Wong.

  “Neela,” said her new avatar.

  “Yes, penelope.

  “You have a visitor.”

  “Who?” asked Neela through gritted teeth as she slowly clawed her way up a morphing rock wall. “I wasn’t expecting anybody today.”

  “It’s Amanda Snow.”

  “The Chairman’s girlfriend?”

  “Apparently. There are also two R-500 securibots accompanying her.”

  For the life of her Neela couldn’t figure out what someone like Amanda would want with someone like her, but she reasoned there’d be nothing to lose by being civil.

  “Sure,” grunted Neela through her exertion. “Let her in.”

  The door to the gymnasium opened to reveal a slim woman with vibrant blue eyes and silken white hair. She was wearing a long, shimmering thigh-length jacket, tight-fitting halter-top, and calf-length boots. She pushed past the two accompanying securibots. Her stiletto heels echoed across the hardwood floors.

  “Amanda Snow,” said the woman looking up toward Neela.

  “Neela Cord,” answered Neela, not bothering to look down. She was almost to the top of her climb and made her way up a few more feet with practiced finesse. She then reached up and lightly tapped a small area at the wall’s precipice. Mission accomplished, Neela pushed back and off the wall, twisted 180 degrees in mid-air, and then gracefully floated down to the floor, landing almost directly in front of her visitor.

  Amanda extended her hand.

  Neela took it firmly and noted with some satisfaction that the handshaking trend her husband had started was still being practiced in a place he was no longer welcome.

  “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here,” offered Amanda.

  “To convince me to be a good girl, of course,” said Neela, wiping the sweat off her brow with her forearm.

  “Well, basically, yes,” answered Amanda, seemingly untroubled by Neela’s curt response, “but shorter term I’d like to throw you a small reintegration party. Have a few staffers, press, some mid-level muckety-mucks show up. That sort of thing.”

  “Now why would you want to do that, Ms. Snow?” asked Neela, grabbing a small towel from a rack. “No, let me guess. To somehow put me at ease?”

  Amanda shook her head. “You’re a prisoner, Mrs. Cord, and that won’t change anytime soon, so honestly, girl, how much at ease could you be?”

  Neela smirked. At least she’s honest. She was about to say something, but Amanda spoke first. “Hey, don’t blame me; that’s what they want. We both know it won’t work. But I have my own reasons.”

  “I can’t wait to hear them,” said Neela flatly, though she had to admit a part of her was truly curious.

  “The truth is no one talks to me anymore except with his or her Hektor filters on. For Damsah’s sakes, did you see what escorted me to your gym?”

  Neela nodded even though she hadn’t actually seen the well-armed metallic goons.

  “It was bad enough when he was the Chairman of GCI but now as the soon-to-be war time President he’s getting worse.”

  Neela was incredulous. “Are you seriously telling me you need a friend?”

  Amanda let out a churlish giggle. “Don’t be foolish, child. We’ll never be friends. But I do need someone to talk to who’ll actually say what she thinks. And barring my defection to the Alliance, you’re it. Besides, think about all the secrets I can tell you knowing you can’t tell a soul, and before you say ‘no,’ just think—if you
actually do manage to escape imagine how useful all that information will be.”

  Neela smirked and began to towel herself off. Then she put her hands on her hips and looked Amanda squarely in the eyes.

  “Alright, Ms. Snow,” she said, now using a small cloth to wipe the chalk from her fingertips, “you can throw me a party, but only on one condition.”

  “Yes?”

  “You stop calling me ‘Mrs. Cord.’ I’m young, but I’m not that young.”

  Amanda laughed. “Agreed, but only if you call me ‘Amanda.’ Oh …”

  “Yes?”

  “Dr. Gillette will be there too. He might even be staying awhile.”

  Neela listened as Amanda went on chatting. She still didn’t feel at ease but had to admit she did like the woman’s company.

  Hektor waited patiently in his t.o.p. for Amanda to return. He looked up from his small command center of holodisplays as she entered, threw her shopping bags to the floor, and propped her legs up on a chaise lounge.

  “So?” he asked.

  “Success,” she answered wearily. “I found the exact shoes I wanted. Now can we please leave this Damsah-forsaken cesspit?”

  “Amanda …”

  “Fine … I don’t see what you hope to accomplish, Hektor. She loves him and hates you. She won’t help us, no matter how nice we are to her.”

  “She’ll come around,” said Hektor, returning to his work. “Just give her time.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Hektor didn’t respond because he didn’t have to. Amanda knew the look. It was all the answer she needed.

  Neela was having a tough time with her patient. Physically he was fine; it was his psychological state that concerned her. The patient had recently died in combat and needed a fair amount of nanorepair prior to his revive. But even though the repair had gone well and the patient’s brain hadn’t suffered any serious damage, she’d still found herself saddled with a well-trained combat marine from one of the premier mercenary companies crying in her arms and refusing to let her go. She’d held on to him for so long that her legs were starting to go numb. For all her training and therapeutic skills all she could do was sit there and speak softly, offer comforting words, and let him cry. As she rocked the marine in her arms she thought back on the events that had led up to her current predicament.