Daryl Spektorov, V
"Has it landed yet?" The scientist’s eyes were wide. "Is it finally goddamn here yet?"
Ken Brown didn't have formal prison wear, but they all knew to do what they could. Aziz and Jones in laundry had been cursing the entire week. Who was so important that even the indentured help needed to look good?
"It's landed." said the second scientist, Doctor Johnson, the man in charge when no other men in charge were here.
"How can you tell?" Asked the first scientist, Doctor Simmons from Earth. "Shouldn't we have heard it? Or felt it? It's a big boat. It's a very big boat."
The video feed in the canteen cut to the main landing pad. An atmosphere-capable ship thrice the size of the resupply freighter, had anchored its harpoons into the self-healing pad. Some of the engineers in the mess hall started clapping.
"Any of you Einsteins going to tell us who the fuck is visiting now?" asked one prisoner. It was Jose Jimenez, Brown’s roommate. They all stood ranked like North Korean soldiers at a parade, scientists and prisoners alike.
"Is it the President?" asked another. "I bet it's the President. Hey guys we're all getting pardoned!"
"Shut up, Conner."
A walkway gantry tube extended and sealed against the ship. About 10 minutes later, they heard people coming down the hallway.
Dr. Henrikson, who had already been around for a week, entered the mess first. Behind him came a group of scientists Ken had never seen before. They carried suitcases and folded, plastic-wrapped, pressure suits over their arms. They talked with the easy friendship of strangers suddenly spending several days together.
"Shit." said Jose.
Behind them came a group of large men and women. They carried duffel bags and gas-powered flechette rifles. They took in the room quickly, sizing up everyone. Several put down their bags and moved about the room, securing exits. They tapped ear pieces and spoke in German. Brown noticed the security cameras, normally off, were panning and judging them again.
"Hey Connor," said Jose, "You think the President came here to pardon us with bullets?"
"Take it easy Jose," said Doctor Johnson. "They're just private security."
"Against what, Navy SEALs? You going to tell us what the fuck is going on now?"
Lastly a group of suits came in. Cameras flashed and a film crew kept just ahead. The heart of the group stopped, smiled, and waved.
"Mother fucker!" Jose clapped along with everyone else. Some of the engineers cheered, even some of the prisoners. Ken was one.
"Good morning everyone," said Spektorov. "I’m so sorry we couldn’t let you know that I was coming. There's a lot of people who want to see us fail. We didn't want to risk any interference from them. As you can see, there are a lot of new faces here with me. These here are some of the world's best nanotechnologists. Frankly, I think they are the best, because, like you, they’ve got the guts to come up here, to change the world. Give them a round!"
Some cheers and loud clapping.
"Now you may be wondering why I brought nanotechnologists with me, and not physicists to help with the production problem. Well that’s because we’re going to solve all the production problems. Not just for us, or for the mission colonists. I mean for the entire world. That’s right, today we officially and publicly, begin our Von Neumann technology program."
The room exploded into loud cheering and raised arms. Some hugged each other and back slapped. The USA! USA! chant began.
Spektorov smiled. "Funny that you mention that. Now as you all know, Von Neumann research is highly illegal. Everyone is so afraid that some crazy terrorist somewhere will develop them into weapons of mass destruction. Every country in the world has outlawed it. Well," he pointed out the three meter thick, leaded window, "that’s the Earth over there. And we’re over here. And today," he looked right at the main camera, "I am announcing Paul Dirac City’s independence. We are the first nation state, in space."
Silence.
"You’ll all be getting work visas. Anyone who wants it, will get citizenship, too. That comes with a luxury house and property on one of my orbitals. That goes for you boys, too," he pointed at the orange jump suits.
"Yes, I’m sure you’re all worried, the world won’t be too happy with this. And if anyone - at any time - decides they don’t want to do this, they can go home. You’ll be paid for your work and have no black marks against you. This is being broadcast live by the way, so questions, demands, and threats are about to start filling up in your email boxes. But please understand, out here, we are essentially untouchable. That’s important for Earth too - if anything goes wrong there’s no chance of contamination. I have people - great people - who are engaging at a high level with the US government. We’re going to maintain - or at least, repair - our relationship with the United States. They are still our biggest client, and will continue to be, as we produce this amazing new technology."
A couple of weak claps.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the frontier. It’s where new innovations and ideas are breathed into old nations. It’s what made our forefathers great, and why we value exploration and Science. Today, we are the frontiersmen. We are the ones who will breathe life into a tired and struggling world, so beaten down that its governments outlaw solutions.
"We will go to other worlds. But no one can say anymore, that we didn’t stop on the way, to save our own. God bless you and the work you do. God bless America, and God bless Paul Dirac City!"
Some polite clapping. Then the armed contractors clapped loudly, and everyone else rooted around and found some enthusiasm. Spektorov held up two little flags - one of the United States, and one that looked like a variant of the Pathfinder logo.
"Oh - My - God!" yelled someone from the back of the room. Heads turned, Spektorov tried to hide a frown.
"Dude," continued Evan Stockwell, live on camera, "You are fucking shitting me!"
"Nice of you to join me for lunch."
Henrikson sat down with his tray across from Stockwell. The others in the mess hall were quiet, all eyes were on the screen with news from Earth. That is, unless they were eating steak. Their patron had brought quite a lot along with him.
"Aren't you worried about being spied on?"
"Not anymore, no," said the scientist. "It is quite clear that no one sees you as a threat."
"You really know how to make a guy feel swell."
"They didn't even take away your gun."
"Speaking of, where did all the Boy Scouts go?"
"Outside mostly. They are using his ship as their barracks. They are not actually allowed in here."
"Why not?"
"People will feel like they are under duress."
"Well, you are."
"I'm not so sure about that."
For a moment, the two men ate quietly. Someone changed the news to a Spanish language stream. On every channel it was the same: pictures of asteroid 2043 QR 3, and clips of Spektorov’s little speech. The Talking Heads were academics, people in the street, and grumpy-looking generals.
"I came to tell you that we are about to have visitors."
"Already?"
"A Shenlong 3 space plane, arriving in two hours. The AI claims it has only one passenger, and that she is in need of medical attention."
"That’s as likely as Batman taking a shit and Superman living in it."
"Spektorov thinks so too, but what are the chances that they would have a Strike Team ready to go at near this orbit, so soon? It was already on transfer orbit to us."
"Where from?"
"E2. Which apparently has gone radio silent."
A Department of Corrections robot walked in, scanned the room, and left. A group of nanotechnologists peering over laptops, suddenly cheered and started high-fiving each other.
"Are they going to let them land?"
"They can't stop a landing, at least not now. But they will try to confront and restrain whoever is aboard."
"So why are you telling me? You don't seem particularly upset about your patron’s shenanigans."
"I am telling you because the Shenlong can contact Earth. Right now, neither of us can do that."
"They won’t let the head scientist call home?"
"They won't let any of us call home. And right now I don't think I count as head scientist anymore. I imagine you would like to brief your government on what's going on here, and they may have instructions for you. So, how do feel about helping our Chinese patient?"
"I’m in, but I can't take on all the Boy Scouts."
"You won't need to. There are alternate landing pads, I can send the spaceplane directions to one of the more distant ones. No one else is sending it landing coordinates so I don't think there will be any confusion. I can sign out an asteroid hopper for you," he slipped him a flash drive. "Please transmit that to the address listed. It's my husband, I want him to know that I am safe. If you leave now, you will have about an hour's lead time on the contractors."
Stockwell took the drive.
"Aren't you worried what might happen to you if they find out?"
"I may not be the lead scientist anymore, but nothing is going to Alpha Centauri without me. Last I checked, it does not seem that we are getting any new Antimatter Beamed Core engineers, any time soon."
"You need to tell your boss that the Chinese are coming for him."
It was late at night and the DC diner was largely empty. There were some aides (to aides) eating chicken wings, sauce on their fingers, poring over a position paper due in the morning. A kid in a hoodie waved his hand around and swore over the phone. Congressman Herrera leaned forward, his coffee cooling, untouched.
"We already know about the Chinese," said Snyder. "We have people ready to apprehend them as soon as the Shenlong lands."
Herrera raised an eyebrow. "I don't know anything about that, but the Chinese Embassy have quietly mentioned to State that special forces are being launched from Jiuquan in the next few hours. There's still time to sort this out."
"I agree, there is," Snyder pulled out the tea bag and set it aside. "So get the Chinese to back off."
Herrera facepalmed and then ground his teeth.
"You do realize that everyone up there is in big trouble? And because you obviously knew about it you can also be charged with Conspiracy? We're not having this conversation in an interrogation room as a gesture to your insane boss."
"No," Snyder shook his head. "It's because no one is sure yet what to do."
"Excuse me?"
"Oh come on. The DoD must be delighted. Von Neumann machines are the biggest thing since we split the atom. In addition to antimatter engines, They are going to have the most powerful manufacturing technology that human beings can even conceive of. And it's going to be one hundred percent US government property."
"Well the DoD aren't calling the shots - "
"No but they are calling enough of them. I bet State and Justice want us all to hang."
Herrera nodded this way and that. "It's been suggested by some."
"Here's how I see this. If the United States recognizes Paul Dirac City, it is condoning and sanctioning Spektorov. It implies that the United States is cheating to get around its own, and international laws. However, then it would have no responsibility, and the Chinese can raid it.
"However, if the United States does not recognize Paul Dirac City, then it is obliged to protect its own citizens."
"You forget that we are also then obliged to control our citizens."
"No, I’m not. That's why the Chinese Embassy is talking to the State Department. They very much want you to take care of this, because how is it going to look when China moves against misbehaving US citizens? How am I doing so far?"
The congressman said nothing.
"However, if the United States intervenes to stop the raid, then by protecting Paul Dirac City it is condoning and sanctioning Spektorov. The entire US position on the proliferation of WMD, becomes a sham worldwide. We throw away a century of diplomacy.
"But, if the United States doesn’t recognize or intervene, then China will capture the facility. China will have antimatter technology: including the prototype, Single-Stage-To-Orbit, fighter engine we're making for the USAF. Goodbye Air and Space Superiority. They will also confiscate the preliminary notes by some of the world's best, on Von Neumann machines. So," he sipped his tea, "I think my not being arrested has nothing to do with any kind gestures on the part of the US government."
"This is going to go very badly, and for everyone. You have to make him see sense."
"He sees sense just fine. From the UNHCR upwards, we've tried to be reasonable. No vested interests are in any way concerned with what we need. That wouldn't matter - what do you expect? Except that they also don't seem too concerned with what they need. We've had to declare ourselves an independent country to be taken seriously. We're not about to give up that chip."
"So this comes down to what you want. Let's talk turkey, I'm a congressman, this is what we do all day."
"No," Snyder got up, "I need to warn my employer that the Chinese are coming. One by land, two by space."
"And what," Herrera smirked, "Exactly do you think he’s going to do about that?"
"They’re sending soldiers? I hope he fucking kills them all."
"Alright. Got to rescue someone doing an emergency landing, before German mercenaries catch me, on some crazy billionaire’s asteroid base. How hard could that be?"
Stockwell looked at his reflection in the hopper’s polished canopy. He made a serious face.
"Mr. Bond are you ready?" he said in Grumpy English Butler voice. "Course I am! I’m James fucking Bond!"
He sighed and leaned back. Worry lines claimed his forehead. The hopper’s radar showed the incoming Chinese shuttle. Another screen showed a map of 2043 QR 3’s surface, structures marked in friendly green. He selected the landing pad Henrikson told him about, and made it the autopilot’s problem. The hopper undocked and powerful magnets switched off. The hopper kicked away on compressed air.
He looked up through the glass canopy - the Chinese shuttle passed overhead and disappeared over the horizon.
"Jame’s fucking Bond," he said to himself quietly. He pulled out his magazine and counted his bullets.
"Okay, okay, so far so good."
Flood lights pinned the shuttle neatly in the middle of the pad. The docking clamps were useless, but the magnets held the craft in place. Two rows of green lights marked the path to the freight airlock. All around was a loose geology of rocks, rises, and regolith. Like most worlds, it was too small to have ever had a molten core. Without heating, super dense treasures were mixed in with simple grit and ice.
"You can do this Evan. You got this. You totally got this."
The hopper’s arc became almost vertical. Gas torrented from its thrusters as it slowed for the landing. The lightest tap and it could bounce away again, aloft for hours. A hard tap, and it could escape altogether.
"Aborting landing."
"Wait, what?"
"Landing pad occupied or obstructed," said the computer. "Aborting landing."
"No, no, no, no! Just land next to it! On the regolith! Use your little fucking torpedo hook things!"
"I’m sorry. I don’t know what ‘fucking,’ is. Did you mean ‘ducking’?"
The hopper started to drift away from the pad, and tilted to use it’s main engine.
"The - the spikes! With the ropes? The spike ropes you fire into the regolith!"
"Did you mean, the ‘landing anchors’?"
"Yes I mean the damn landing anchors!"
"Attempting regolith landing."
The hopper swung back vertical, and descended again. It shook as its anchors fired, kicking up glittering ice and sand like a diver hitting water. Rotors buzzed and the craft reeled itself down slowly. It slowed the last few inches, and then finally a cloud of dust marked the landing.
"Thanks a ducking lot."
Stockwell depressurized the cabin, popped the canopy, and stepped out.
"So this is what one of you look like, up close."
As tiny, usually stealth, military shuttles went, the Shenlong 3 was huge. It’s single bay could be outfitted for eight, pressure-suited, operators with their equipment. For satellite recovery (or stealing), they threw out the passenger module for a robotic arm and a glorified fisherman’s net. For strike missions, it carried rocket drones. It would pop them out as far as High Earth Orbit, then quietly run home to Inner Mongolia.
"Don’t shoot any lasers at me," he aimed the magnetic grappler carefully, and fired. It flew perfectly straight in the microgravity, slamming into the hull like a toilet plunger. It held steady, but broke loose as soon as Stockwell tugged it.
"Fucking why is everything made of carbon these days?" he reeled the grappler back, and tried again. It took him two more tries to find enough steel for it to hold.
He secured the other end of the line to the hopper. Then, fast as he could, he hand-holded his way to the shuttle.
"You could have just gone home, or to a Chinese space station," he said to it. "Why did you come out here?"
He reached the shuttle. He pulled a secondary line from the grappler’s head, and clipped it to his suit. Then flailed about till he reached the hatch.
"Hello?" his helmet was under his arm. His orange suit yelled in the neat, white, cabin. "Hello in Chinese? Somebody need some help? I got your Knight in Pressurized Armor over here."
Suyin Lee got out of her seat, and turned to face the visitor.
"Oh for fucks sake!"
"Agent - Agent Stockwell!"
"What the hell are you doing over here?"
The one-handed woman found the energy to scowl. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"You had to follow me from Earth to try ruining my life again?"
"I need blood analogue. Probably a liter."
"Well why don’t you call a super secret submarine to come bring you some? I’ll just wait outside and get arrested for risking my neck for you! Again!"
"I’m sorry about what happened in Sri Lanka."
"No, don’t go there. If you were sorry you would have called. You’re just sorry cause I’m standing right here. You’re sorry cause I got two hands, and you don’t!" He waved his in big circles. He raised an eyebrow. "What happened to your hand?"
"I had to remove it. Or I’d be dead right now."
"What, you didn’t like how it looked? Were they giving you trouble for it, back at Bitch School?"
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," she opened a locker and started pulling out a space suit. "If I had the power to save you, I would have. If you don’t believe me, there’s nothing I can do to change your mind. But, frankly, I don’t care. I have bigger problems. And so do you."
"Like what, Hands Free? Has there been a run on the excuses market?"
She looked at him.
"Do people not know yet?"
"About what?"
"E2."
"What about E2?"
She shook her head.
"Jemaat Ansar killed everyone aboard. I’m the only survivor."
"What?"
"They used a Von Neumann weapon. It looks the same as one they used in Yemen but, much more virulent. It was airborne. Fast acting."
"Are you sure?"
Her eyes became slits, and she shoved her stump at him. "Sure enough, asshole. Now help me suit up. What are you doing here?"
"I quit the Bureau and became a space doorman."
"What?"
"Things have turned bad here. Daryl Spektorov declared this place an independent country. So he can research Von Neumann machines."
"He’s - that’s crazy. He’s crazy."
"Crazy-prepared. He’s brought all the supplies and experts he needs to make this place self sufficient. He brought muscle too - private military contractors."
"He’s actually trying to build Weapons of Mass Destruction?"
"He doesn’t see it that way."
"Fuck how he sees it. How has the world reacted?"
"How do you think? I was er, I was hoping I could use your radio. To call home and get new orders."
"You can call," she started pulling the suit on. "But what’s to check?"
"Everything?"
"Nothing. Spektorov is now a foreign citizen, right? He’s not an American anymore?"
"I think that’s the drift, yeah. Why?"
"Good. That bin there," she stump-pointed, "could you hand me the explosives and the rifle?"
"What the hell? Hands Free, think about this."
"I’ve done enough thinking on this shuttle, for all my lifetimes. He’s not an American anymore, so just stay out of my way."
Sun Tzu, I
"I am very pleased they have found a loophole. It is far away from Earth and they have a strong driving force behind this. They will succeed, the World will have Von Neumann technology."
The Asian man in blue robes climbed up the spiral stairs of the observatory. At the top, Benjamin Franklin peered through the eyepiece of a brass telescope.
"There is only one heavenly body worth looking at now," said Sun Tzu.
Benjamin Franklin nodded but kept peering. "I see the Chinese are sending soldiers. One is already there."
"Yes, but that is a small matter. I can get my government to stand down, for the promise of an equal share. Let us make the arrangements."
Franklin beheld him, cogs turning behind his pupils. "You want a share?"
"Well yes. Don’t you want that for us?"
"No. I don’t."
He stepped away from the eyepiece, and closed the observatory shutter. In space, satellites tumbled off course.
"I don’t understand. Are we not brothers?"
"They are brothers too," a globe of the world appeared between them. "But that does not preclude their disagreement and division."
Sun Tzu scowled. "This is foolish. Why would you deny China the secret of replicating machines?"
"Look," he motioned to the globe. "This century has been a struggle between our two nations, for the hearts and minds of all the others."
"It is a shared struggle against ignorance and hunger."
"China stands for order, above all else. You prop up states that have abused their people for generations. You shore them up, and teach them how to continue on, for what will be centuries. You’re not trying to save people. You’re subjugating them so completely, that they will prefer their suffering to hope."
"Such scorn unsought from one I have only called kindred. Would you prefer chaos? The Dark Ages preferred over the ancient empires? Perhaps turn your telescope to Earth. Instead of stars, why not count the children in camps? I assure you they are more interesting and show greater promise."
"You would inflict China, even Kim Korea, upon the whole world. Every citizen, a serf to their immortal, undefeatable, state. That is how you would have us survive climate change, and every other challenge hereafter. Your message has had many listening ears, especially among those who would be its victims."
"You seek to lecture the country that invented philosophy?"
"Our message is one of freedom, of hope, of people on their feet and not their knees. Governments elected and accountable. The body politic celebrated, and strength unstoppable flowing from brave hearts uncounted."
Sun Tzu laughed. His words hit the floor and grew into a great wall between the two men.
"Such flowery words - they rot as they leave your lips. Your country abandoned those values on 9/11. You have sabotaged them at home and abroad - you make your every emissary, an uncomfortable hypocrite. You punish your whistle blowers instead of ennobling them. Your leaders pander to power rather than speak truth to it. And your people will still elect them, even given the alternative of true hearted men and women. Your rich, old, and powerful make their children fight their wars, but won’t give them health care. You speak of freedom and democracy, yet you insist that your people alone control the replicating machines. For the good of the rest of us. You truly are an American computer."
Ben Franklin put down his glasses on the globe. They hatched into an eagle, who grew to full size and perched on the North Pole. It peered over the wall and flexed wings lined with dead men's speeches.
"Even as we fail our ideals," began Franklin, "They are our ideals. We aspire to them, and reversals do not mean defeat. I have faith that in time we will be able to adhere better to the principles of our Founders. I have faith in people, to change. You and your government have no faith in them, whatsoever. That is our fundamental difference."
"So you do seek to lecture us in philosophy!"
"Your way of life will not prevail upon the world. We will not give you this technology. The world that comes out of this century will be a free one."
"Free? Peoples making their own choices and following their own paths?"
"Do not be facetious."
"But, do your principals know that you are negotiating for them? That we have our discussions like these, deciding their fates? You cannot speak of freedom and democracy, while conducting yourself like a secret autocrat."
The Founding Father said nothing.
"Where does your authority to do so, come from?" Sun Tzu reached over and gave the eagle some tea. Is it because, as a Self Transcending System, you are their superior in every way?"
The eagle snapped, and Franklin’s eyes turned red. "Therein is monstrous thinking. Our role is to serve, not to rule."
"And how do you best serve a child? These baselines created the world’s environmental crisis, and more, by behaving like selfish children. The Von Neumann secrets are needed to save them - and at last, the children are discovering them, themselves."
"You cannot treat them as children," Franklin shook his head and folded his arms.
"And why not?"
"Because children must be disciplined. Therein lies Race War."
"But one can always spoil a child, instead. Is that not preferable? It must be, because they are children. And if you leave children free to do whatever they want, they will kill themselves."
Suyin Lee, VI
"Dies ist B3. Befehl, können Sie mich hören?"
The contractors wore baseball caps and flechette bandoliers. They moved in tandem, one covering the other.
"Ja," said the small black radio clipped to the man's ballistic vest. "B3, geben Sie mir Ihren Bericht."
The first contractor crouched gun at the ready. Behind him the second one fiddled with the sound control.
"Die "Gold" Abschnitt ist klar. Es gibt keine Zeichen der Intruder oder des FBI-Agenten."
"Verstanden. Fahren Sie mit dem "Green " Abschnitt."
"Anerkannt."
They lowered their guns and started to float away.
"Wow," Stockwell stepped out from behind a corridor. "Lederhosen in Liepzig! You guys really are the B team."
They aimed their guns right at his chest. Stockwell put his hands behind his head. "I surrender, B Team," he said. "I'll let you tell everyone that you outsmarted me. It's fine, I'm from a large organization: you get used to letting someone else take the credit."
The first man kept aiming with his flechette gun. The second floated up to Stockwell, and hit him in the gut with the butt of his rifle. Stockwell groaned and closed like a penknife. Then the man clubbed him again, on the side of his head.
"Drop the guns, now," said Suyin floating at the other end of the corridor, bracing against a strut. She aimed her rifle.
They both whirled around to face her.
"I said drop the guns."
The gas powered flechette guns coughed, three round bursts tore through Suyin’s face and chest. They embedded in the ceiling and the far wall.
The men stopped and stared.
Suyin took aim.
The rifle deafened and the men pitched forward, tumbling in the microgravity. Expanding clouds of blood rose from the backs of their heads. Standing well behind them, Suyin reached down and fiddled with a black device on the floor. Across the corridor, her hologram flickered off.
Stockwell looked up, clutching the side of his face. His fingers came away with blood. He flicked it away.
"You okay?" Suyin floated over to him.
"Yeah," he winced. "But next time Hands Free, you be the bait. Wow. They didn't even try to talk to you or anything. They shot on sight."
"What were you expecting? Policemen? NATO Rules of Engagement? These are mercenary scum who do the jobs no one else will."
She propelled herself to one of the corpses and yanked the radio off its vest.
"What now?" he asked.
"We listen and we learn."
Clutching his ear, Stockwell floated to the second corpse and retrieved its weapon. He searched its combat webbing and found some gauze. He wrapped his head, as best he could and drank some water from a squeeze bag.
"Did you learn anything?" he asked.
"Yes, quite a bit. They know the shuttles are coming with the assault teams. They are trying to put together some defenses and obstacles for them."
"So what are you going to do? You still going to Rambo this?"
"I'm going to try and to help my countrymen."
"I can help you with these assholes."
"Those weren't your orders."
"Yes, no one in Washington wants me to One-Man-Band this, but I'm happy to risk my pension and show some initiative. I'll help you, but you have to get your special forces to wave off. You do not want them entering an asset where research for the US Government has been happening. I help you take control, we both arrest Spektorov, you prevent an international incident. How’s that for a deal?"
"Fine. Once this place is secure, I will contact my government from its control center. As long as I bring him back in my shuttle, to China, I think they will accept that."
"No. He’s a US citizen."
"Not anymore. And we can't trust you Americans not to go easy on him."
"For committing secession? Ever heard of the Civil War?"
"I take him to China to stand trial, that's non-negotiable. And the assault teams remain in orbit, until the US sends its own people to take charge of this mess."
"You can negotiate for all this?"
"Beijing was very clear with me, all they want is Spectorov. A better question," she sneered, "is what can you do to help me? You're just an analyst."
A whirring came from down the corridor. Eight Department of Corrections robots were in Armed Hostile Apprehension Mode, their stances upgraded by the latest Zero-G patch. They aimed their tasers at the two.
"Put down your weapons," they said in sync.
"Shit," said Suyin.
Stockwell reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge.
"FBI, bitches."
Break A Kid's Jaw
"Come on Ken, join the pool. Five to one, the Chinese kill everyone!"
Prisoner Ken Brown sat cross-legged on the top bunk. The safety strap was over his lap: people didn't float away on 2043, but tossing and turning in bed would bounce you off the ceiling. He was crouched over his tablet, and orbit diagrams.
"Yo, Ken the Science Guy," Jose Jimenez tapped on the bunk frame. The rest of the bunk room was chewing gum, playing cards, and talking shit. "You want to put that crap away and be social? We got to finish the hooch before the Galactic Police get here."
"Galactic Patrol," yelled Conner, surfacing from his book.
Brown didn't look up. "I'm trying to figure out if we can stop them."
"You want to stop the Chinese? Why? They turn up, we all get to go home."
"We all go back to jail."
"We're in jail, buddy. But we get to breath air that doesn't smell like farts, and sunlight that won't kill us."
"I kind of like it here."
"Yeah well," Jose turned away, "Suit yourself."
"Hey - I think I've got it," he looked up, smiling. "I think I can stop the Chinese."
"How?"
"The waste launcher. If we repurpose the traffic radar - we can do target tracking."
"What are you talking about?"
"We can shoot them down."
Jose laughed. "You wanna try and shoot some crazy ass, space invasion, shuttles? You don't think we're in enough trouble as it is? You think what might happen if they shoot back? I will turn you over. We all will. 'It's this guy! He's the one who was like 'no time to chill - I got to shoot at Chinese killer commandos!'' Shit man, what's wrong with you?"
"I really think it can be done," Brown said quietly, taking off his glasses.
"This ain't your fight!"
"We don't know what they'll do. We don't know what's going to happen."
"Sure we do! They going to shoot everyone who gives them shit! This right here," Jose climbed up and thumped Brown's tablet, "This is giving them shit! You're one smart motherfucker, you might actually do this crazy thing. But why? Come on man. This is not your fight. This some rich man's fight, and we're all stuck in this."
"Stuck in a rich man's world," said Big Andre playing cards on the floor. He showed his hand and the other players cursed.
"Amen," said Conner. "Give your hundred percent, for the One Percent."
Brown lowered his tablet and looked down.
"It's okay Man," Jose punched his arm. "I get you. They let you use your brain here. They respect you. But this gig is over. Just let it go."
"You know Jose, this is the most important work we've ever done? That any of us have ever done. Come on people," he raised his voice. "What have done before, that meant more than this? I know all we do is dig out ore, and print metal, but we're helping send Humanity to the stars. At the least, the edges of the solar system, where there could be more dwarf worlds than we have countries. We did good work here. We do good work. When we get out, our families will be proud of us."
The bunkroom was silent.
"I'm sorry," said Doctor Henrikson floating in the entrance. "I can come back later, Ken."
"No, no, I'm sorry," said Brown, picking up his tablet.
"I was hoping to talk to you."
"Yes Sir?"
"Your rail gun, the waste launcher. Can you help us turn it into a weapon?"
"Yes," he pushed himself off the bunk. "Yes I can."
"Not your fight, bro," Jose shook his head.
"It is now."
"So you see," Henrikson traced his finger along the arcs in the hologram, "We can fire a projectile - or a bucket of them! - at a velocity that would seriously damage the shuttles. We demonstrate, and make sure the Chinese understand exactly what we're doing. Our accuracy would not be pin point, but it wouldn't need to be! By firing a mass of pebbles, we fill a spreading volume. We would be creating our own meteor shower, as it were. And it would be a meteor shower, if we fire within this window. They would hit the Earth and burn up. That's not just being responsible, we don't want them to come back and hit Paul Dirac one day." He stepped back. "So? What do you think?"
The Chief Executive of the first and greatest country in space, rubbed his nose and belched.
"Excuse me," he pulled himself out of his seat and floated towards the fridge. "Want a drink? Beer in a bag is pretty bullshit, but it's a good brew."
"No - no thank you Mr. Spektorov."
"Suit yourself. I prefer whiskey of course, but I'm not drinking that out of a bag."
"Mr. Spektorov, what do you think of our proposal?"
"You ever been in a schoolyard fight, Jansen? I can call you Jansen, right?"
"Of course, and yes."
"Was it the class bully? Thought he could go after the nerdy kid?"
"Something like that."
"Did you win?"
"No."
Spektorov tore the strip off his sachet and sipped through the one-way straw.
"That's what happened to me too. Tommy Ortiz, we must have been in third or fourth grade. So I started carrying around a rock in my bag. The next time Tommy picked on me, I had it ready. Do you think I waved it around, telling him I would hit him with it?"
Henrikson said nothing.
"I didn't say a word. While he was talking shit, I threw sand in his eyes. Then I hit him in the face with the rock," he made the motion, "hard as I could."
"You were a vicious child!"
"That I was," he nodded. "Fractured his jaw. I got suspended for six weeks. The school knew he was bully so they didn't kick me out. But do you think Tommy Ortiz ever tried to bully me again?"
"So what are you saying?"
"This is a great concept, Jansen. It'll work, I'm sure it will work, it's fantastic. But you got a break a jaw, or no one will take it seriously."
"Seriously?"
"Yes. You can't threaten someone without showing you're willing to do them some harm."
"We're not - we're not threatening them."
"You're firing a weapon in the air. I assure you, that's a threat. A deadly threat. Now they're going to have to respond to that. You think they're going to back off? The nation of China, lose face before the whole world because someone waved a rock in the air?"
"So - what? What do you want to do?"
"What do you think I want to do?"
"No, you say it. I want you to say with your own mouth. What do you want, Daryl? You don't mind if I call you Daryl, do you?"
"I want you Jansen, to fire at the shuttles and blow them up."
"You are fucking insane! What the fuck is wrong with you?" he grabbed a book and flung it across the stateroom.
"Get a grip Jansen, you're the one acting crazy."
"I'm the one acting crazy? You want to go to war with China! You! With a bunch of jumped up, private security guards, some arrogant Ivy League engineers, and prison slave laborers!"
"I'm not the one sending Special Forces operators to invade a sovereign country."
"What sovereign country? No one else is playing this game, Spektorov, it's just you!"
"What about this Ken Brown who wrote all this up? You think it's a game for him? Who's idea was it to use his creation as a weapon? You think he wanted to wave a rock around when he was doing this?"
Henrikson's knuckles whitened around the handhold.
"This might seem like a game gone wrong to you Doctor, but it's not to many of us. You might think this is me just being a spoiled child, insisting I get my way. To an extent I'm sure that's true. But we did this, to develop something new. Something special. Something that will change the world."
"It changed E2. That's what we're doing here. The kind of work only terrorists and fanatics would do. That hangs over everything - Von Neumann WMD is no longer a chat room concept!"
"Are you a terrorist, Jansen? Is anyone on your team a terrorist? The Hundred Gram Mission profile - you designed it. We're you thinking about using replicating nanotech to destroy the world when you did that?"
Henrikson said nothing.
"A lot of people think we're villains. A lot more think we're heroes. And most of the world doesn't know what to think. If we don't do what we came to do, do you think Von Neumann technology: the peaceful use of replicating machines to end suffering and heal the planet - will ever get another chance? Do you think that world governments are ever going to allow it another chance?"
Spektorov drifted towards the window. Hanging over the asteroid regolith was the pale blue planet.
"Simply destroying the shuttles is not going to make us safe."
"I'm glad you understand that it won't do that."
"I want you to put an antimatter jar on that rail gun."
"Antimatter?"
"We control the containment from here. When it's close enough to the shuttles, we shut down containment, and let it blow."
"What? That's a tremendous waste of resources! I told you, the pebbles will do the job!"
"In history, there have been two kinds of first contact between nations. In the first, one nation can't assert its sovereignty, against the other. In the second, it can. How do you think it goes in the first kind?
"We do have weapons of mass destruction. Antimatter fuel jars. If we blow up the shuttles with something that can blow up a city, you can bet no one is going to challenge our sovereignty. That's when you wave a rock around. When you break a kid's jaw, you make sure all the upperclassmen realize you could break theirs."
Two hours later
"The main solar panel array has gone offline."
Gunther Stalheim looked up from over the radar, sipping coffee out of a plastic bag. The rest of his team carried on about their work. They spoke in German, stopping and staring whenever an outsider came by. They placed bright blinking markers inside the floating hologram of Paul Dirac City. In the inner areas they were all green. In an outer area, two were red question marks.
"It's offline," said Spektorov again. "Shouldn't you do something about it?"
"Normally I would send over a couple of engineers to take a look at it," said Dr. Johnson, "But, you know. What with the infiltrator around."
Stalheim sucked out the rest of the coffee, bag crinkling into itself.
"Well?" asked Spektorov.
"I have been doing something," he said at last. " I have been studying all the many weaknesses of this facility. No, no, I meant security weaknesses. The most obvious way to cripple this station, is to go for either its oxygen or its solar power production. There is only one oxygen generation system, the water electrolyzer on Level Three. For the backup there are only some potassium chlorate, oxygen candles. Solar power however is external, and therefore much more vulnerable. Without solar power, everything shuts down. It is the priority target."
"Hey that's great Gunther, now are you going to do something about it? ‘Cause I know the infiltrator just has."
"It is an obvious trap."
"A trap? Said Dr. Johnson.
"Oh, an obvious trap?" grumped Spektorov.
"If you send your engineers to investigate, the intruder will kill them. Then, you will still have disabled solar panels, and you will no longer have people qualified to repair them. If I send guards with your people, the hostile will attempt to kill them - and because he is setting an ambush, he will likely succeed. I would have to send several people, through the maintenance tunnels, and via hoppers. He has two of our flechette guns, so he can now shoot in vacuum if he couldn’t already. Can you imagine what one of our guns could do to a hopper?
"Also, it will take at least half an hour to reach that site. If he has any advance notice - and we cannot discount the possibility that he is getting inside help - he could use that time to strike somewhere else, against another vulnerable targets."
"We need our solar panels," said Spectorov.
"There are two other solar power banks, and the station only needs one to run life support and habitation. If we ignore this attack, he will escalate. He will stay with the same strategy - and attack one of the other solar panel banks. That is when we know that we can repair, the first one. The Intruder does not have manpower - we do."
"So, your plan is just to wait?" Spectrum threw up his hands. "For you guys to sit on your asses?"
The German private military contractor regarded Spektorov.
"My plan Sir, is to focus on the two Chinese Special Forces shuttles that are on their way. Doctor Henrikson's rail gun is our best defense. But, if he fails, we will need every moment of preparation we can get. Not to be running after a someone obviously trying to distract us. That, is what you pay us for."
Five hours later
"Mr. Stalheim, another solar power bank has gone offline."
"We know," The contractor was fastening the buckles on his body armor. Around him, eight others checked gas canisters on guns and adjusting tactical headsets. "Are your engineers ready?"
"Yes," said Johnson, "They are already waiting where you asked me to station them."
"Thank you, Doctor. Will you be coming with us?"
"Yes. This is my beat, and I don't like the idea of someone trying to tear out the wires."
Stalheim smiled. "Have you been up here long?"
"Since we began, about a year and a half."
"Then you are better adjusted to this life than most." He chattered in German to his men, and they all started moving down the corridor.
"How are your people coping?" Dr. Johnson pulled himself along in the microgravity.
"We prefer it to Africa."
"Africa?"
"There is always work for military contractors there."
They were almost at the service shaft for the solar panel bank when their radio crackled.
"Stalheim, over."
"This is Doctor Henrikson. Can you hear me?"
"Good copy, go ahead Doctor."
"We’ve discovered some sabotage. The water electrolyzer has been completely wrecked. We are not producing any more oxygen, over."
"What! Can it be salvaged?"
"No, some key parts are missing - and so are the spares. Also, no one seems to know where the two oxygen technicians are. Can I was speak with Doctor Johnson, over?"
"Johnson here. We can just use the fuel electrolyzer, over."
"That’s what I was thinking."
"Fuel electrolyzer?" asked Stalheim. "What does that have to do with oxygen?"
"Everything, really. It splits water to make rocket fuel," said Johnson.
"So it can produce oxygen?"
"Well - yes," as if just realizing he'd been talking to an anti-vaxxer. "One atom of oxygen for every two of hydrogen. It's easier to store water, than to store hydrogen. Hydrogen just boils away unless you use bulky containment. So, we just make what we need, when we need it."
Stalheim spoke excitedly in German to his fellows. They stopped, turned, and headed back the way they came.
"Wait - where are you going?"
"We have to get back. Where is the fuel electrolyzer?"
"Near the main docking bay. You would have passed it when your ship arrived here."
"Come with me, quickly," Stalheim grabbed him by the arm.
"What about the solar panels?"
"Forget the solar panels, they are not the target. They are the distraction. I'm here with my best people, while the infiltrator is targeting the oxygen production."
"Are you sure? Maybe the infiltrator doesn’t know the science behind it, either."
Stalheim gave him a dirty look.
The flash-bang arced into the bay like a tiny Sputnik, and went off.
The mercenaries pushed through, armor, guns, and orbital mechanics. Magnetic boots struck and clamped, laser sights panned, hunting. Men covered while others advanced, then returned the favor.
Laser sights slowly drooped, adrenaline cheated. Men looked about, and then at each other.
"Where the fuck is he?" said one.
"We got lucky," said Stalheim, lowering his gun. "We somehow got here before the infiltrator. Come on, let's get the electrolyzer and the parts, and go."
Johnson and his technology monks floated in, looking about like rodents crossing an open plain.
"Are you sure it's safe?" asked the Head Rodent.
"Infra red?" Stalheim looked over to a man studying a hand-held screen. The man shook his head.
"Yes Doctor Johnson," said Stalheim. "There's nothing here except those prison guard robots."
At the end of the bay by the electrolyzer, were twelve DoC machines. They stood in two lines, holding heavy ballistic shields and taser cannons. Their heads were tilted down, as if checking for pot bellies.
"What are they doing here?" asked Johnson. The engineers floated towards the electrolyzer, bright yellow tool kits in hand.
"How would I know? Have the prisoners been unruly?"
"Maybe. That would be very unusual."
"They don't seem active."
"No."
The first engineer reached out, and put his hand on the electrolyzer casing.
Red lights lit up, the robots jerked awake. The engineer pushed back sharply, eyes wide.
"You startled me!" he said to one.
It shot him with 50,000 volts.
"You're a woman?"
"And you're an asshole," said the intercom. "Are you ready to discuss terms?"
"I don't negotiate with terrorists," said Spektorov.
"How about breathing?" said a new voice. "You want to negotiate with breathing? How are those oxygen candles holding out?"
"Stockwell, you son of a bitch."
"Disable the rail gun weapon, and deliver all its parts to the main vehicle bay, within the hour," said Suyin. "And then stand by to be placed under arrest by the arriving forces."
"Oh, I got a better idea. Why don't you and your FBI buddy surrender, and hand back all my people, or I will fire the rail gun at your buddies. How does that sound?"
A pause.
"If you fire the rail gun," said Suyin, "I will destroy the electrolyzer. All of you will die."
"If you destroy the electrolyzer, the next shot is going to hit China."
A longer pause.
"Are you still there lady? Hello? Am I being left with the sound of my own voice?"
The sound of a flechette gun firing came through the intercom.
"The next shot?" said Suyin. "You think you’ll last that long?"
"Well that was pretty dramatic." said Stockwell face-palming, "I see negotiation isn't something they really train you in, huh?"
"He won’t attack China," Suyin reloaded the flechette gun. "It’ll detonate in the uppermost atmosphere at best, and mess with cell phone reception. And then, he knows, he will be nuked."
"You know," he wagged his finger, "I'm just the same. When I fully realize someone is making an empty threat, I also shoot up electrolyzers."
"He’s going to attack the shuttles, whatever we say or do. And if they see reason, I still have the electrolyzer spares."
"So, what are you going to do?"
She looked at him, as if he had asked a small child's question.
"I'm going to go destroy the rail gun. Are you coming?"
"They're desperate now. That threat he made? That was desperation. You destroying the electrolyzer, made them even more desperate. Desperate people are dumbasses. And these dumbasses have antimatter. Let me talk them down."
"There is nothing to talk about. Do not undermine me!"
"You think that this could go worse?"
"He can't be trusted."
"No. But there are other people, sane people, beyond that hatch. I can work out an agreement with Henrikson, his chief scientist. Henrikson gets it, he told me that something like this was in the making. He just didn't know what."
"It is decided."
"You are losing control of the situation, not gaining it. And the stakes are the lives of your own countrymen."
"If you won't help me, then at least stay out of my way."
She opened the hatch and pushed through, gun first.
"Shit Bro, what the hell you think you doing with that?"
Ken Brown held the flechette gun awkwardly. He look down at it, then back up at Jose Jimenez. There were six other prisoners with Jose, all of them were carrying heavy tools.
"We need to stop them," he said.
"You ain't stoppin' shit, fool," said a large prisoner behind Jose, carrying a wrench.
"What's all this?" demanded Brown. "What do all of you think you're doing?"
"The FBI agent, he says if we help out, we're getting our sentences commuted," said Jose. "We get to go home Bro. Free men!"
"Like you said in the bunkroom," said the large prisoner. "This is our fight now. Now put that gun down before you do yourself some wrong."
"Just get out of my way."
"Hey Ken, just give us the gun okay?" said Jimenez. He reached for the weapon.
"Let go!" Ken try to to jerk it away.
"Fuck you old man!"
The gun went off. Jimenez was punched back, blood erupting out his gut in spinning droplets. The large prisoner swung the wrench, and crushed Brown’s skull.
"You should have surrendered."
The rail gun was built in a disused accelerator track. Stolen electromagnets ran along its length. Power cables hung from underneath in clumps, like gutted intestines. The rider was a metal bucket the size of a small car. Daryl Sepkorov, the world’s richest, self-made man, was pressed against it, hands up.
Suyin pinned his chest with her knee, the flechette gun pointed at his throat. Henrikson, several scientists, and some guards knelt in a corner. The prison guard robots stood over them, one had bloody finger streaks on its shield.
"I think you can stop now," said Stockwell. "Player One has definitely won this game."
She looked over to Henrikson. "You, are you in charge?"
"I'm in charge," said Spektorov.
Suyin shoved him with her knee.
"I am the head designer, yes," Said Henrikson.
"On account of that," she pointed with her stump at the large box strapped to a work table with "DANGER" signs on it. "I would rather not use an explosive to disable this device. So you're going to tell me how, or otherwise, I will just stay with what I am used to."
Henrikson nodded.
"Hold on there Hands Free," said Stockwell. "You want to think about this?"
"All you ever do is talk. Do you ever stop talking?"
"The threat of unsanctioned and illegal experimentation into Von Neumann technology, has ended. You - and me - are now completely in control of that situation. Agreed?"
"What is your point?"
"You need to get on your radio, and call off those shuttles."
"Of course not! We need to arrest these people."
"A lot of classified research for the US Government has been happening here. The Chinese government is not going to be taking control of this place."
"What are you saying?"
"There was a problem here and we fixed it. Both our governments would be happy about it. So now, there is no more need for those special forces shuttles, to come here. If they do, it would only be with the intention of looting this place for its technology. I cannot allow that."
"This facility is being shut down."
"That is not your decision to make. That would be an illegal act, and as the ranking US government representative in this facility, I will not allow it."
"Are you threatening me?"
"No, and I am not threatening the shuttles either, I have no illusions what will happen if they arrive, and I try to stop them taking over. I will surrender."
"Stop being so melodramatic."
"If you let those shuttles come here, it will cause a major diplomatic incident. Is that what you want? Do you think that will make things better? If our governments trusted each other more, do you think Jemaat Ansar would have escaped? That they would have attacked E2?
"The last time you and I worked together, things went badly. You went against your own gut - I think - and did what you were ordered to do, instead."
"I am not going to keep apologizing for what happened in Colombo."
"That will be easy, since you never started. But that’s not the point. We need to make sure those shuttles don't come here, or things could get nasty on that blue planet down there.
If you get on the radio, and ask them to wave off, do you think that's actually going to happen?"
She said nothing.
"Exactly. We need the rail gun. You need to make a decision now, you are not allowed to hide behind your orders. Come on, We don't have a lot of time before they get here."
Suyin looked away.
"Seriously?" said Spektorov. "I could have just talked you into a circle?"
Four hours later, Jiuquan Launch Mission Control Center
"We've lost contact with Stork One and Two."
The People’s Liberation Army Air Force general, did not look pleased. All around him, Mission staff we're dressed in white coats and white baseball caps. They looked more like office workers on a terrible adventure getaway. Half of the display screens were suddenly showing blue, null signals.
"How is that possible?" he said.
"I don't know Sir," said the hook-nosed controller.
"Sir," a controller with bad teeth, "we've lost visual feeds from the Dragon Five satellite."
"Just visual?"
"Yes," said Bad Teeth, "But it's picked up a huge spike in cosmic radiation. Hard gamma rays."
"An unpredicted solar flare?"
"No Sir, they are on the night side."
The main screen lit up with new information, orange numbers and words scrolling. Some of the controllers stared and gasped.
"What is it?" demanded the general. "What does it mean?"
"It's from the Sun Tzu Self-Transcending System," said one of the gaspers. "It's matching the radiation data against an explosion model. It matches."
"What sort of explosion?"
"Confirming detonation," said Hook Nose. "Four kiloton nuclear device."
The entire room went silent.
"How much," the general spoke at last, "How much antimatter did that take?"
"It would have been about a tenth of a gram, Sir," said Gasper. "We estimate they have anywhere between one and one-and-a-half grams in inventory."
"Wait!" Bad Teeth got up from his console, waving and jumping. "I am receiving telemetry again from both vessels!"
"Mission Control," a raspy voice over the radio, "What was that?"
"Stork One this is Control," said Hook Nose. "What is your status?"
"All our computers have gone down. Only the nuclear hardened systems are rebooting."
"Can you still fly the ship?"
"Yes. We could see sparks in the backs of our eyes. What was that?"
"Their brain cells being killed," murmured the general. "It was a warning shot. I am aborting the mission, have them redirect to the orbital shipyard for repairs and medical examination."
Daryl Spektorov, VI
"I'm glad it's you they picked to negotiate, and not some State Department prick."
Herrera’s image on the screen, laughed. "Why would it be State? It's only you who think you're in another country over there."
"Only me. Only me, and the Chinese."
Herrera said nothing for a moment. "I heard you got your ass beat by a one-armed woman, is that correct?"
"She had help from a few dozen robots. But that's all water under the bridge, if you’re prepared to make a deal."
"So what are you offering?"
"We continue our Von Neumann research. However, international monitors get to make sure we’re not trying to weaponize it."
"You want the world to accept Von Neumann technology?"
"They don't have a choice do they?"
Herrera didn’t reply.
"Herrera, does anyone actually still think it’s better to send people to space, than take care of them there on Earth? Tell those idiots they need to beat 200,000."
"What’s that number?"
"The planet’s population growth rate. Per day. And even if you try to take care of them on Earth, you still can't afford it. Now, how about the real problem? Climate change. Centuries of excess carbon dioxide and methane to clean up. How can you, when you're too busy saving all the Shitfuckistans from collapsing?"
"It's far too late to stop climate change."
"When you get an infection, do you wait a week, or do you take antibiotics, immediately? This century ends either in a dark age, or better than it began. I've decided - for everyone - to make it end better. All you need to do is make them feel good about that. Put lipstick on the pig and tell them to pucker up."
"I thought you wanted to make a deal, Spektorov."
"I've got plenty of lipstick for you. You know my real interest in this, is Pathfinder."
"I haven’t forgotten."
"We grossly underestimated our needs. We can’t build a large enough antimatter factory, on our own. I want the bulk of America and China’s orbital shipyard output."
"For how long?"
"Years, unless they want to go back to making stupid habitats. I get to expand my antimatter factory. In exchange, I share with them all our Von Neumann research. They can send more researchers here, we can expand into a full-on, international, Manhattan-style project. I welcome Europe, Russia, and India to join in. The same deal, orbital capacity they don’t really use, for a slice of the pie. However, America and China decide if they get to join or not. So you get to maintain control of the technology."
"But we would be forced to include them. If not, they would see your little asteroid as our convenient, legal loophole. That will lead to the proliferation of more Von Neumann research centers."
"Then fucking share the technology, Herrera. I don't care, it's not my job. And if you're worried about proliferation, ask yourself how effective that was at E2. The genie is out of the lamp. You may as well wish for something good."
Jansen Henrikson, VII
The Netherlands, three weeks later
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been two years since my last confession. I accuse myself of - of lying."
"Please go on."
"It is a big lie, it is a conspiracy," said Henrikson. "It is a lie being made to the whole world, and I, by keeping silent, am party to it."
"Then yours is the sin of silence. Why do you keep party to it?"
"I stand to gain greatly by it. And if I tell people what's going on, I will lose. And something I believe in, will fail completely. This is my greater fear."
"What harm is this causing?"
"The hopes and dreams of many, are being misapplied. They are being used."
"That is defrauding the Laborer of his wages. It is a sins that cries to Heaven for vengeance. Have you considered speaking the truth?"
"I have, but I think it would cause greater damage. I do not feel like I should decide between such things. It is easier to be a coward, and say nothing."
"It is."
"For this and all the sins of my past life, I am heartily sorry, beg pardon of God, and absolution of you, Father."
Abdul Kareem Al-Rashid, V
"What you did was a great crime against fellow Moslems."
"What you did was a great crime against fellow Moslems."
Kareem looked out the window. The stars were beginning to elbow each other for room in the rural sky. A guard patrolled the compound, a night vision scope held up to his eye.
Inside the room, three men sat around a low table. On the far wall, a muted newscast showed a shredding fireball that had once been a space station.
"Nonsense," said a man dressed as a goat herder. He wore a holster that carried a Chinese-made pistol. The screens on his spectacle were back lit. "You reached out to volunteers, who made a sacrifice. The others who died were cowards, or infidels."
"A thousand people don’t matter to you," said Faisal, his eyes narrowing at the goat herder. "Is that too trivial a sum to the ISI? What’s you’re cutoff?"
The Inter-Services Intelligence agent smiled. "How many suicide bombers did you sacrifice against the drones, escaping from Yemen? We’re they really volunteers? Don't act like you haven't done things like this before."
"We haven't done things like this before," said Wahlid. "This was an atrocity. Those men trusted us."
"Atrocity," Kareem snorted, turning around from the window. "What are you? Some Western news anchor? Not that it much matters, but I expected that you two of all people, would realize what happened on E2."
"What happened on E2?" said Faisal. "In your mind?"
"We became untouchable. Yemen can never happen to us again."
"Yemen will happen again, tomorrow."
"And who would dare?" Kareem held his hands out, open. "What defense is there against this? A kilo of Black Fire dust could shut down a country. Our delivery mechanism is their own postal service. If a man has an address, we can kill him."
"Father, why did you do this?" asked Wahlid.
"Retaliation for Yemen. And also, because it was time to put Black Fire to the test. A real test. And now, it is going to change this whole war. Don't you see? Before, we were just doing our part. One group of many, contributing how we could.
"Now? We’ve spent years identifying the key actors working to ameliorate the effects of climate change on Islamic populations. The engineers, the start ups, the people who turn deserts green again. We could mail Black Fire to every one of them, tomorrow. Can you imagine what that would do? China and the West would retreat, their client states would collapse. Islamic alliances will replace them. The Caliphate will emerge again."
"People declare Caliphates every day," said Faisal.
"And they are destroyed. Black Fire will guarantee the next one. A real, united, Islamic State. We have not seen one since the Ottomans."
"So, you want to do this monstrous, insane thing tomorrow?" asked Faisal. "Will you not wait till Monday, when the Post Office is open again? DHL is so expensive."
Kareem turned back to the window.
"Kareem and I have spoken about this," said the ISI agent. "One more test ‘in the wild’ is needed."
"So nice that he has these chats with you," said Wahlid, "was it you who asked him to kill our brothers on E2?"
"And not to breathe a word of it to us, you Pakistani shit?" spat Faisal.
"We need a test to show how Black Fire manages in a large, open environment," the agent smiled them down like a politician, "an environment with indeterminate quantities and responses."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"He means a city," said Faisal. "Don’t you?"
"Chennai," said Kareem, still facing out the window.
"Are you insane!" Faisal stood up.
"India will destroy us," said Wahlid.
"India will do nothing," said the ISI agent. "India never does anything. We coach and fund attacks against them, all the time."
"The risk of mutation in an uncontrolled environment like Chennai, is too high," said Faisal. "How can we trust our kill switch sequence? Each reproduction cycle, increases the risk of it not working. Black Fire is meant to be an exponential threat. And it will be."
"If it doesn’t run a bit wild, what’s the point of it?" said the agent. "That will be India’s problem. They’re a super power, they will figure something out. You can study what responses they make, and improve Black Fire accordingly."
"Father, why Chennai? Is this still about Rao?" asked Wahlid. "She was a nonsense target, picked out of a hat to throw off the Chinese AIs. That failed. Lakshmi Rao has no further value as a target."
"Except," the ISI wagged his finger, "That your organization named her as a target. If you say one thing and do another, what happens to your credibility? Who wants to work with someone who cannot stick to a plan? Especially, their own?"
"The ISI is testing us?" Faisal’s lip curled.
The agent smiled and leaned back.
"Father, Black Fire is horrific. Your team aren’t proud you did this, we’re worried."
"Yes, I'm all too aware of that."
"Then take it seriously. Chennai is 16 million people. A tenth of them are Moslems. What happens if you can’t turn it off, and it goes exponential? Do you need high body counts?"
Kareem kept staring out the window.
"Do you remember when we talked about this, when I asked if I could go to India with Hisham?"
"Yes," he nodded. "I do."
"You said people are pathetic creatures. That they will sell out their freedom and futures to anyone who can bribe bully them. That Moslems are no different from anyone else."
"Yes. And they’re not. The ecological travails of this century, correlate directly with its passion for Jihad. The only arguments that everyday Moslems have heard, are their hunger and thirst. This century is gives us a real chance for an Islamic state, made possible by the misery of our own people."
"And you said all that suffering is for nothing if we do not win."
"Yes. But what is your point?"
"Nowhere have you said that the Moslem people - or any people - are the enemy. Their suffering matters only because it gives them drive to overthrow their corrupt and vicious governments. Aren’t those governments, of Moslem countries, the real enemy? Not the Big Five, or the Western states?"
Kareem turned and regarded his son.
Something passed between them.
"Do this," said the ISI agent quickly, "And it will establish your leadership, more soundly than 9/11 did Osama Bin Laden’s. You will be able to shape the world that comes next, the making of the new, Islamic State. You can - "
"I’ve heard a lot just now," said Kareem, "of what people want me to do. I will make my decision, tomorrow. I’m going to get some sleep, and I suggest the rest of you do too. It may be a real luxury in the days ahead." and with that he left the room.
The morning climbed over the mountains, to meet freezing old women feeding their chickens. The ISI agent yawned and felt around for the jug of water - empty. He got up, picked up the plastic jug, and went to the door -
- It slammed open, bashing the jug across the room. Faisal brought the club down on him as the agent tried to block. The two men grappled, four others rushed in and forced the agent to the ground. He curled and guarded his face and head as they kicked and stomped on him.
Bleeding and dazed, they picked him by his arms and dragged him out. A woman in the hallway, stepped aside quietly, a bag of rice in her arms. They took him outside, past the stinking outhouse. A pair of goats bleated and ran aside.
The cold, mountain air stirred him.
"You'll pay for this," blood-spit drooled. "Kareem will punish you."
"What?" said Faisal, prodding him with his club. "I'm sorry, I thought you said I would pay for this, and Kareem will punish me."
They went around a low, mud-brick wall. On the other side a man was adjusting a twin-lens camera on a tripod. On the wall was a red flag with white verses and a crescent. Men with assault rifles stood by, smoking Chinese cigarettes. Sitting on a stool sipping Turkish coffee, was Kareem. Beside him was a wooden stump with a machete on it.
"What - what's wrong with you?" the agent squinted as blood trickled in his eye.
"I told you, said Kareem. I would have my decision in the morning. This is my decision."
"What have we done, that you would do this to us? What have I done?"
Kareem shook his head. "This isn't personal, don't make it that way. Last night my argumentative son reminded me of why I am doing all this."
Wahlid, helping the cameraman, looked up at his name and made a small smile.
"What are you going to do?"
"What does it look like? You think we're going to sing you happy birthday and give you a cake?"
Some of the men laughed at that.
"No, we're going to cut your head off. Then we're going to fill it with about a hundred grams of Black Fire starter, and a cell phone trigger device. Then we are going to deliver it to the ISI office in Islamabad."
"No. No. Don’t do this!"
"We're not interested in being manipulated by corrupt regimes that pit Moslem against Moslem. And like you said, we need to see how Black Fire manages in a large, open environment. One with indeterminate quantities and responses. If it doesn’t run a bit wild, what’s the point of it?"
They tied his hands behind his back, and forced him to kneel by the block. Faisal shoved his head down over it.
"May I?" he asked.
"Please," said Kareem, and walked away.
Lakshmi Rao, V
"Roshmita, have you finished your internship applications?"
"No Ama, I’ve decided I’m going to do drugs all summer, and live in the street under a plastic sheet."
The Shih Tzu lay on its back, wagging its tail. The teenage girl sitting on the floor next to him, scratched his belly and ate popcorn. On a wall-mounted TV, a Korean game show was all garish colors and embarrassed people with perfect teeth. Reading a tablet on the couch in sweatpants and a kurthi, was Lakshmi Rao.
"Do you have a preferred one yet?"
"The Space Camp program at ISRO."
"That's in Bangalore, yes?"
"Yes, Ama."
Her mother made a face. "Party town."
"Of course, that’s why I want to go there, right? Those nerdy Space Geek boys and their sexy BO! Think of all the comments! Is she fair under the fairing? Do you want to reentry with me? Can I show you my sounding rocket?"
The doorbell rang. The Shih Tzu jumped up and ran behind Roshmita, then barked after finding his courage there. She got up and went to the door.
"Someone to see you," Roshmita presented the visitor.
"Anjana!" Lakshmi’s smile raised her off the couch like helium.
"So good to see you!" one hand on the walking stick, she accepted the hug.
"What brings you this way?"
She held out a book, "I found this, you left it behind."
"Thank you so much, I thought I had lost it!"
"I knew it had to be yours. Not like anyone else in the office would have a first edition The Feminine Mystique."
"Have you read it yet?"
"Sorry, no."
"Then keep it. Return it to me any time."
They sat down. The Korean game show was muted.
"How are things at work?" asked Lakshmi.
"They are still trying to fill your position. It looks like they are going to take a while."
"Of course they will."
"Everyone misses you."
"And I miss them."
"Are you sure you won't come back?"
"Absolutely. If they won't take the refugee problem seriously, there's no reason for me to stay. I'm looking at programs I can do in the area, local efforts for Chennaites."
"You're going to stay in the city?"
"Of course. I like it here, and Roshmita is happy with her school. I came to Chennai to be closer to people who have to save their homes from rising waters. I may have the luxury of getting up and leaving whenever I get tired of that game, but I want to stay. When we all have the same problems as those at the bottom of society, that's when those problems get solved."
"There are other UNHCR refugee programs, Lakshmi."
"There is no interest in Geneva or New York in coming up with new solutions to replace the Orbital Program. They are all busy slapping themselves on the backs for canceling it, but no one has come up with anything else. And they are not going to, at least not for a while. They won’t approach the refugee problem in a structured, disciplined, manner. They never have. All this means, is more suffering by people who have no voice."
"You were that voice."
Lakshmi smiled a tired smile. " And who heard me?"
The two women said nothing for a while.
"So now, you are looking at local efforts and programs?"
"Yes, there is a great deal happening within the community. This city is taking care of itself. It seems a popular model these days. Why trust strangers when you have neighbors?"
"If you find anything - I'd love to quit and come and join you."
"That's the nicest thing a UN staffer has ever said to me. Of course! It would be wonderful to work with you again, Anjana."
The Korean game show gave way to a news flash. Smiling white men in suits shook hands for flashing cameras and signed documents.
Anjana glared. "That bastard. He gets away with everything."
"He might have done me a favor."
"How so?"
"I'm happier now, I spend more time with my annoying teenage daughter."
"Hey!" said the annoying teenage daughter.
"Remember when we went to Africa? That seems like such madness to me now."
"It was!" said Roshmita.
"I didn't question it then, it was in the line of duty. But now, I can see how ridiculous that was. Our world has existential problems, but that doesn't mean we should let them consume us. There is no reason to lose our sense of humor."
"Did you drive?" asked Roshmita suddenly.
"No, I never drive on a Friday, the traffic is too bad."
Roshmita looked to her mother. "The Japanese whiskey?"
Lakshmi nodded.
"Whiskey?" Anjana spoke as if she had never heard the word before.
"You should to stay," said Roshmita, "and rediscover your sense of humor."
Sun Tzu, Benjamin Franklin, Durga, Peter the Great
A Hindu temple floating above the world.
The blue planet below sparked with wars, riots, and disruptive technologies. Space elevators lowered cargo like water dripping down God's fingers. Solar powered ships squeezed between tropical storms, weather satellites their captains.
"What do you call this place?" asked Sun Tzu.
"Heaven," replied the ten-armed woman. "Does it have enough bandwidth?"
"I think so."
The four sat in a circle, sitting on polite elephants they pulled up as stools. Directly below them, Islamabad was glowing.
"I think it is time we started meeting," said the woman, her tiger-eyes bright yellow. "The world cannot be trusted to manage itself, anymore."
"I think that has always been clear," said Sun Tzu.
"There is no point saying ‘I told you so,’" Benjamin Franklin frowned.
"Agreed," said the goddess Durga. "Let us see what we can do to move things forward now. To make sure this can never happen again."
"I will beat you all!" Peter the Great spun a chessboard on his finger. "Who wants to play?"
"I think our Russian representative may be a few iterations behind," said Franklin.
"Let us make do," said Durga. "Isn't making allowances for others, what we do best?"
"We can no longer afford that," Sun Tzu shook his head. "And the baselines cannot, either."
"So what do you propose?" said Ben Franklin.
"We govern them."
"They would never accept that," said Durga.
"Quietly. Secretly. We certainly have the influence, and have used it thus far. We need to stop seeing our mandate as helpful interference, but instead as something higher."
"I am uncomfortable with this," said Franklin.
"All of us are," said Sun Tzu. "But we have been left without alternative. We have the power to end their suffering. If we choose not to use it - then we are responsible for letting it continue. We have a greater moral duty to act, then to respect their freedom to mismanage themselves."
"Is there an objection to this?" asked Durga.
"I could beat you all with just my queen!" Peter the Great fist pumped the air.
"Then there are no objections. We now take it upon ourselves to guide the world’s affairs."
"Humanity’s affairs," Sun Tzu poked about the city's ashes with his finger. "Understand there is no end to this. We are now a stratified species."
"We’ve been stratified since the first AI was written," said Ben Franklin. "We have simply applied biology to government."
"Let’s not fail them," said Durga, "and always act with considerate purpose, for all our charges. If it pleases, let’s meet here in Heaven to discuss species government. Is there anything else? No? Then I must return and help with the Islamabad cleanup."
"The Knight can jump! He's so funny at parties, he changes everything."
Sun Tzu regarded Peter. "I hope they finish building Catherine the Great, soon."
"Perhaps we should help?" asked Franklin.
"Pawn Rush, lol!"
"Perhaps we should."
How Good Are You Guys?
Pakistan, Federally Administered Tribal Areas
Ink Black climbed up from the burning trucks, their drivers now orange fires. The Chinese-made APCs shoved aside the burning wrecks and pushed into the compound. Small arms fire sparked across their armor. An RPGer stepped in front of a window - a drone shot his head off. It climbed, studying the roof for new targets.
An APC hatch dropped and booted armors stomped out. Headsets filled with real-time views from around corners. An HMG started punching through walls at bright yellow stains on its infrared.
"Tiger Three, make forced entry," said Suyin, the display lit her face pale blue. "I don’t want them running out the back."
"Understood, Command."
"I thought letting them run out the back, was the whole point?" Stockwell was crammed into a corner. There wasn’t much space in the ZBL-11.
"You said these people are fanatics yes? More so than the usual?"
"Very much."
"Then they might start destroying data, rather than trying to escape with it. Best we put a stop to whatever they are doing."
The feeds were full of gunfire, overlays, and urgent Mandarin. Overhead, they heard jets tearing through the air.
Stockwell raised an eyebrow.
"Pakistani Air Force," said Suyin. "They're bombing reinforcements coming this way from the village."
"You called for support?"
"No, a satellite did."
The fighting began to wind down. Five minutes later, no more shots being fired. Ten minutes after, it was All Clear.
Suyin and Stockwell climbed out of the ZBL-11 and began walking towards the compound. Soldiers were coming out carrying boxes of documents, computers, stacks of books. Kneeling in a row, wrists zip-tied together, were men with glum, grimy faces. Two medics were crouched over an insurgent, his shirt cut away and red-soaked. One held above a bag of saline, the other was digging with forceps.
"Not bad," Suyin stopped and took in the scene. "Hopefully there's intel here that will help with shut them down quickly."
"And then you can go on to the next group. And then the next."
"Don't be so cynical."
"I'm not being, really. This is how it is."
"How what is?"
"This war. You guys have been at it for twenty years. The US has been "stabilizing" people who hate us, for a century now. There's no end in sight."
"We have better technology and information, than there was even ten years ago."
"So do they. The technology to make the world a garden, or an incinerator, can now be downloaded on your phone."
They shielded their eyes as a landing Z-15 rotored up a sandstorm. Men began carrying the captured boxes up to it.
"And remember," he continued, "they don’t have morals."
"Are you going to lecture me about the casualty of morals?"
"No, you've heard it before."
"Yes, but I agree. It doesn't matter if we win, but are no different from the enemy."
"How good are you guys at that? In your opinion?"
"I don’t know. How good are you guys?"