by S. Walker
Siers only realized he was standing when Emilia jumped out of her own seat. "What! Captain, what?"
He turned bright eyes on her, shocked open and full of wonder. At the same time pieces were falling into place, snapping together in chain long and long and long, attached to things he hadn't thought about since before Corporate as people knew it even existed. It was an insane rush, heady and wonderful, a living sensation he'd thought was impossible to ever experience again.
"The Debate." He tried to grasp that feeling with both mental hands, savoring it like the last drink he'd ever have. Dead stars, it had been so long. The sensation of it! "It was the Last Debate! That's where I remember this from: They argued forever about it. Even afterwards, when it didn't matter, for years!"
Siers couldn't stand still, coming off the raised CEO station like he was personally bringing the fight to the forward screens. He slapped a hand on the bulkhead, fingers splayed over the darting viciousness of the drones. "Jonas!" A stutter-step left, crossing the distance to the Tulip and jamming a figure on the image: "Leslie!" Then he whirled on them both, eyes nearly manic in delight before abruptly shutting down, going sad. "And... Frank. What we became." Then, bitterly: "For our sins."
Paul carefully left his area and stepped forward one long, slow stride at a time. "Sir, listen to me carefully: I believe you may be having a breakdown." A sympathetic hand took Siers by the elbow, gently tugging him toward the bridge hatch. "Please try to remain calm, and I would very much like to listen to you explain this more, from down at the Medical station-- if you would please come with me...?"
He laughed, long and clear. "Paul, I'm fine. Really."
"Ah'm gonna agree with our expert here, sir." Janson sounded spooked, his baritone voice full of concern. "Em, did that look half as weird as it sounded?"
She shook a negative from her position on the far side of the workstation, visor throwing rainbow patterns on the walls to either side. "Trust me, in person it was a lot weirder. Captain," she edged toward her chair without turning away. "Maybe, um, go along with the nice, tall, weird-voiced Medical guy? It's been kinda stressful lately and... yeahhhhh."
"I support her suggestion, if not the way it was phrased." Paul slowly tugged Siers away from the forward display. "This way, sir?"
Siers seem to come back to himself all at once, moving from manic joy and surprise back into a calm reserve like a magic trick. The effect was so instant and pronounced Paul reflexively snatched his hand back, going from professional medical reaction to ingrained respect in a heartbeat. He felt a weird urge to apologize for the unasked-for contact. Which was bizarre.
Before he could sort that out the captain was in motion, brushing by him with a casual pat on the elbow. "It's quite alright, Paul. In fact, I believe for the first time I have an explanation for this-- not a solution, but perhaps some light on what we're experiencing." He retook the CEO seat, sliding into the padded chair and resting both elbows forward over the console. Sapphire eyes looked straight through the displays and back into memory, tracking left and right as thoughts broke cleanly into explanations.
Paul watched him settle, then casually moved towards the nearest emergency medical kit. "Sir, in my professional opinion a sedative might..."
He waved him off, then seemed to finally take note of Emilia's spooked posture. "Be calm, Comms. I was rather excited for a moment, but it won't happen again."
"I would freaking hope not," she didn't even seem to notice the curse. "That was- I don't even know. Like someone else ran onto the bridge for a moment?"
"Out of character?" Janson suggested.
"Yeah. That."
Siers nodded, then rubbed both hands across his face like he needed to settle the skin more firmly. "I am... sincerely sorry. And Paul? Take a seat, please. There is nothing in that medical kit you're opening that would help right now."
The tall man paused, one hand hidden between his body and the bulkhead. "I might disagree. Professionally speaking."
"Disagree all you like, but have a seat and listen. This is an old story, something I'm going to make a mess of anyways. It'll go easier if you don't interrupt me with a surprise injection the second I start."
"Yeah," Janson sounded amused and wry at the same time. "That doesn't go well, Paul. Trust me."
Paul glanced at Emilia once, getting a shrug and a 'don't ask me' hand gesture in return. He rolled his eyes. "Alright, captain. I withdraw my request." Something clicked as the tall man moved away from the emergency kits, taking his seat with a careful motion. "Although I may readdress after I hear the explanation, if that is acceptable."
"I would expect nothing else, actually." Siers frowned, obviously thinking. "First of all-- Comms, alert me if our lieutenant says anything, but it probably won't be something that makes sense. At least not for the next few minutes or so." He waited for Emilia's confused nod, then folded both hands beneath his chin, resting on extended thumbs. "We only have a few minutes here, so I'm going to skip quite a lot of lead in and jump directly to the important part-- the Last Debate."
He laughed suddenly with an embarrassed expression. "It sounds more pretentious when said that way, like some sort of grand speech or something. Really it was more like an argument. Years of it. One that went on so long even I got an earful, and I was so young the details bored me anyways. Just adults talking about adult things, over and over again, just to reinforce what they already thought." Siers glanced at them both, quick and full of inclusive humor. "Do you recall when I said I was not the first of the Shareholders?"
Paul frowned, but Emilia nodded. "Yup. I remember thinking that still made you older than dirt on the bottom of the first set of Agro boots ever made. In a museum."
Eyebrows lifted. "Highly specific examples aside, that's accurate. The first Shareholders were my grandfather's generation. By the time I was even old enough to argue on a playground the first half dozen system startups were already in place, building up into thriving civilizations. But all of us knew about the Debate-- the big fight that caused our way of life. My grandfather even claimed to know one of the original participants. A certain Franklin Krepsfield." He seemed delighted by the shocked looks that got. "Better known as 'Frank' to his friends."
Paul couldn't seem to connect his mouth to words in the correct order. "The same...?"
Emilia stuck a finger up into the air, drawing an invisible circle. "Adding another zero on that age estimate, sir. Janson, you catch that?"
"Yuuuup. And just saying here-- maybe stay away from queryin' singularity drive designs. Ah'm looking at the results now and getting nervous about how old th' patents are."
"Don't bother, they're falsified." Siers seemed genuinely amused. "All of the older records are, mostly to cover up a few inconvenient facts. But yes, I do indeed mean that Franklin Krepsfield. Famously credited with the Krepsfield Drive and gravitonic force control in general. Although that would be a bit like the CEO of a system taking credit for every product their workers produce, whether or not they had an actual hand in it." He gestured around the room in a way that suggested the entire system all at once. "The work of many, claimed by one. The very first CEO and Board Member as we know it."
He paused to work his console for a moment, moving the callout for the ongoing space battle slightly to one side of their shared workspace. On the new window he brought up a hugely zoomed-out view of Corporate space, every system the center of a big white circle of influence. It looked like a bulging cloud, expanding in every direction. "This is Corporate space. And somewhere over... here..." a blue marker popped up. "Was our startup system. Close enough, anyways; everything looks different now. But the important part is we weren't the original starting point. We-- all of us, every single Exec, Independent and worker-- came from somewhere else."
Siers brought an arm up in a long swooping wave, hand flat like a ship in motion. "My father's father rode the first singularity ships for years to arrive here. With, presumably, the woman who became my grandmother. The fir
st Krepsfield-driven colonists, a wave that settled and started a whole ideology." He paused dramatically, eyeing their unimpressed faces. "I thought that would be a... stronger reaction."
Paul held both hands up, matching Emilia's shrug. "Everyone came from somewhere, I suppose?"
"Well ah'm interested. Why'd you all leave? New investment, better contracts, indebted? System collapse?"
"Ah. Actually, none of the above." Siers seemed weirdly annoyed. "From what I can recall it was an ideology fight. Franklin Krepsfield-- enormously rich, head of a company with a brand new technology that made star systems accessible-- disagreed with powerful peers from wherever they all left behind. And that story, the Last Debate, is what we're seeing here, right now in front of us. At least I think so."
The battle took center screen again, closing out the Corporate star map. Once again everyone watched a behemoth slowly getting picked apart by attackers five hundredths of its size, flailing slowly in an attempt to ward off injuries. The Tulip was slowly becoming ragged, losing primary petals and superstructure in long swaths that was painful just to look at. The resemblance to a flower being destroyed by insects was eerie.
Siers nodded to both sets of combatants. "I heard this third- and fourth-hand, forgive me. But in the beginning Franklin-- Frank-- believed in a Corporate system, what they called Capitalism originally. That in a pure environment, free of competing influences, everyone could succeed individually given enough time and motivation. He proposed the Corporation: A set of systems investing in systems, infinitely, expanding outwards on his new drive technology."
"Sounds pretty." Emilia crossed her arms, scowling. "What a freaking terrible idea in practice, though. I have a lot of things I'd like to shout at him over."
"I'll call him up later."
"What?!" Emilia almost fell out of her chair in stunned surprise.
He waved her down. "Joking, Comms. And yes, it turned out to be flawed. Paul, Janson: You both know firsthand the excesses and how self-centered people in general can be." Siers waited through their confirmations, nodding to himself. "But the important part is other factions at the time disagreed as well. There were many of them, but only two names I recall from all the talk: Jonas Hartsman and Leslie Bronte, although I may be getting their last names incorrect. So long ago."
Paul and Emilia shared a look. "Engineer, either of those sound familiar? I am drawing something of a blank."
"Sorry, ah'm over here thinking hard. Knew a Leslie once, but she was younger'n me. Don't know 'em, otherwise."
Siers snorted. "Unlikely you would, competing worldviews tend to be stomped out. But they were the heads of the other technological breakthroughs at the time. Specifically, Leslie's field was plasma and magnetic energy fields," he nodded to the Tulip. "While Jonas, stars forgive him, was foremost in a wide field of automation and artificial intelligence." Siers pointed to the drone swarm. "They both led significant corporations-- small 'c' at the time-- related to each of those sciences."
"And ah'm guessing they didn't like the whole 'go elsewhere and start a pure setup' bit. Do I win a prize?"
"Exactly." Siers slowly frowned, face transforming from a man eager to share a remembered past to someone with old pains. "Their ideologies differed. Leslie Bronte was from a Collectivist group, who believed every invention and progress for Mankind was to be shared for the benefit of all. Although when I heard that it was always phrased in a way that suggested the woman was slightly insane. The last thing I heard before the entire subject became taboo to discuss was her group broke off, left in a different direction. Taking their fields of plasma and temporal effects," he pointed significantly in Paul's direction. "With them."
"Well... shit." Emilia didn't look happy. "So everyone had a fight and super-rich jerks took their toys and went home. That's like every time we open a newsfeed about Corporate life. How's that explain anything now, though? What does it mean? I'm not trying to hurry you up or anything, but maybe hurry up?"
"Comms... Emilia," Siers said her name carefully, with a smile. "Never change. But to answer your question, and why I am suddenly vastly more concerned than before, is because of Jonas Hartsman's particular beliefs."
"The automation guy?" Janson seemed thoughtful, but a bit lost. "Did he take off, found his own group too? Also this is unrelated but Paul ah'm feeling really motion sick right now. Is that bad?"
"It should be fine. The medications that induce coma are meant for extreme trauma situations. They put patients out quickly, without much consideration for afteraffects or nausea." Paul directed the comment at the overheads, as if he could see the big engineer up there somewhere. "Try not to move your head sharply."
"Jus' staring straight at the display. Not much to do here, anyways. Feelin' a bit left out."
"Tough it out, big guy." Emilia made 'wind it up' motions towards Siers. "Alright, let's hear it: What's that guy's deal, and how did it end up with this?" She pointed to the drone swarm.
"It's rather complicated." He read the room and shrugged, cutting to the chase. "Jonas Hartsman and his group believed everyone was perfectly fine where they were, and expanding outwards wasn't needed. They never left. As far as I remember, that was the talk-- they were the group left behind, in the original system, content to improve the original forever."
"That... does not make sense." Paul pointed to his console, then waved to the Kipper in general. "At the very least population would become a problem, not to mention resources to support that sort of endless construction."
Siers nodded, touching his own nose and pointing at Paul. "On the nose, perfectly. Constant improvements; I'm guessing some sort of mega-engineering, like a Dyson sphere or similar-"
"Ah'd like to hear about that later."
"-noted. But improvements like that would cost escalating resources. And I think I know how they solved that problem." He drew everyone's eyes to the forward display with a significant look.
Emilia did a doubletake. "Wait, those drones are...? Wait, like resource gatherers? They just strip systems or something?"
"If my guess is correct." Siers seemed grim. "Although self-replication seems like a very, very dangerous design to unleash. The larger ships would be our version of haulers, the smaller units something like gatherers. And when enough material is refined, they head back. Or perhaps set up new systems to exploit..? Either way it's the ultimate expression of centrism: An entire universe of resources, taken to one place." A thoughtful look crossed his face. "Although I wonder if they were victims of their own process?"
For a long moment everyone watched the battle playing out, both forces nearly on top of the asteroid belt now. Although savage and fast, the drone swarm was slowly losing units to the flower ship's sheer mass: Every attack pass broke a few more of the bladed attackers enough they ceased to be functional. But the Tulip paid an awful price for the strategy as well-- nearly half the malleable superstructure was missing or sheared off. Even the central weapon column sported scratches that would be caverns of damage if the viewpoint were any closer.
But for all the damage sustained neither side was giving up. The floral combatant pushed forward doggedly, never wavering, dragging a depleting cloud of angry drones alongside. Emilia checked her console, then threw a timer on screen. "Six minutes. Lieutenant, I'm not entirely sure if you're there, but-- look out. If you've got a trick, do it now. But if you don't," she fought a brief war of expressions, trading sympathy for determination in waves. "It wasn't totally bad having you around. Sometimes."
Paul snorted. She gave him the finger without looking.
Siers smiled, then slowly fell into a pensive look, eyes calculating. Elbows came down, trading places with dexterous fingers as he began working the console. Icons, confirmations and callouts flew by, opening and closing with a hurried urgency. "Paul."
He dragged concerned eyes away from the fight. "Sir?"
"Take Emilia, gather everyone in the guest quarters. You have five minutes to get back onto the habitation ring."
He dragged an icon, flicking it towards the Medical workstation. It lit up on Paul's console a second later, standing out with the gold border and stylized 'S' of ship control authorization. "I'm giving you complete ship access. Use the maintenance drones, transfer everything out of storage that might be useful. Don't stop. Go."