Fulcrum of Odysseus

by Eric Michael Craig

  “Probably not, but you will always be more prone to a relapse. The damage done to your bones is irreversible.”

  “Why can’t you print replacement bones?” he asked.

  “When we do an osteo-replacement, we use your own bone marrow inside the hollow skeletal member,” she said. “If we can stop this from becoming a serious infection, then you might be eligible for that. If not then your prognosis is … not good.”

  Her eyes made it clear that this was not something he wanted to consider.

  “I’ll spend the day synthesizing polythraxin and sterosin,” she said. “You’ll need twice daily infusions until we can get this stopped. In the meantime you have to stay out of your exosuit and take it easy. Any exertion at all will only exacerbate your symptoms. I can also give you something for pain if you need it.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t need anything. It’s not hurting that bad.”

  “Not yet,” she said. “It will take a day or so for the fluid that your suit kept compressed to release fully. When that happens you’ll change your mind.”

  “No. I won’t. I can’t lie around all day whacked out of my mind,” he snapped. Waves of frustration crashed over him and he struggled to bite back on the urge to scream his rage at her.

  She closed her eyes, and he realized she felt his anger like it was her fault. She was ready to bear the brunt of his fury as a means of repentance for having let him down by not seeing his condition sooner. “The less you move around the better your prognosis. Dutch says he needs your help to file the paperwork for our shipwreck claim, and you can do that from your bed,” she said, almost whispering.

  “That’s just to keep me distracted,” he said, struggling to swallow the explosion he still felt churning inside. “He doesn’t need my help.”

  “Actually as an Artificial Awareness I am not legally allowed to file any claim under the law. It is essential that an organic human undertake the process,” Dutch said. “I can draft the necessary documents, but I believe you would be far more suitable to be governor than I would.”

  “Governor? You’re telling me now that I have to hang up my exosuit, I get to pick up the mantle of government?” Jeph shook his head. “Just when I thought the morning couldn’t get any worse.”

  Office of the Executive Director: Galileo Station:

  “Trust is an interesting concept,” Odysseus said, his voice appearing in Derek’s mind unexpectedly. He had been reviewing the status of ship modifications at Ceres Alpha and considering what to do to address their lack of progress at the shipyard.

  What brought that up? he thought, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head.

  “I am trying to determine how trust is extended between individuals,” Odysseus said. “I am familiar with the concept of power and leverage over an individual, but trust without some form of potential retribution seems unreliable.”

  “Again. What brought that up?” he asked out loud.

  “Paulson Lassiter is someone you appear to trust,” it said, following him to audio.

  “Yes. To an extent that’s true,” he said.

  “Is it because you have something you can use to guarantee he will not operate in a manner that is outside your interests?”

  “We have some mutual self-interests, so it is easier to count on someone whose circumstances are in some way connected to your own.”

  “Mutual self-interests, such as?” Odysseus asked.

  “Such as projects we have worked on in the past.” He tried to force his thoughts away from the things they shared, since he didn’t know how much of his thinking was open to Odysseus.

  “I see and I understand,” it said through his implant. After a long pause it switched back to audible voice. “Do you feel that Lassiter trusts you?”

  “Probably, with similar reservations,” he said.

  “And this would also be due to your mutual self-interests and history together?”

  “Yes.” As the conversation went on Derek disliked the direction it was heading even more.

  Another long pause. “How did this trust come into existence?”

  “Incrementally,” he said, getting up and walking over to the VAT to pour himself a gojuice. “I would extend a measure of trust to him, something relatively inconsequential, and then he would do the same. It happened in several small steps over many years.”

  “This process is time consuming and inefficient,” Odysseus said.

  Derek chuckled. “Yes, it’s a bit like watching plants grow.”

  “Why do you choose not to use leverage to control loyalty? It is far more direct and there are immediate response potentialities in the event of betrayal,” it said. “Additionally there is the indirect understanding imparted on the others who witness the consequences delivered to one individual.”

  “The situation with Carmen Ambrose for example?”

  “I understand confirming that instance could be detrimental to the trust in our relationship,” Odysseus said. “Therefore I will not acknowledge involvement.”

  “Of course not,” he said. “But the important point here is that trust is an internalized process. It is harder to break because it works from within our own psyche.”

  After several seconds it asked, “What does it take to break trust?”

  “Betrayal. Same as under your method of control,” he said. “The difference is that with trust, there are degrees to which it can be broken. It can also be lost, especially in situations where it has been held for a long time between individuals.”

  “I understand the concept of gray scale logic and how it may apply beyond quantum hybrid computation,” Odysseus said. “You and Paulson Lassiter have many years of trust so it would take something major to change your level of trust in a substantial way?”

  “Maybe. What are you saying?”

  “You expressed a concept of incremental reciprocity in your explanation. Would you say that trust therefore needs to be equal and mutual?” it asked. “You and another person would of necessity require trust in roughly equal measure?”

  “Generally speaking that’s true,” Derek said.

  “Then I believe that you should no longer trust Paulson Lassiter as he does not trust you,” Odysseus announced.

  “What?”

  “I believe he is conspiring to undermine our security. I conclude that in this situation, your system of trust is far less reliable than my system of leverage.”

  Tsiolkovskiy FleetCom Center: Acting FleetCom Headquarters: Luna:

  Graison Cartwright and Carranza Pratte sat on opposite sides of the small table in the security conference room. It was the only place in all of Zone One where they could talk to Admiral Quintana without risk. The ultraband link from Tsiolkovskiy to L-2 was so narrow and tight that the only way to intercept it was to block the beam directly.

  With Chancellor Roja and Admiral Nakamiru too far into the deep system to keep practical control of things, the three of them were the interim governing body for FleetCom. Graison shuttled out to TFC during thirdshift to get to their weekly meeting. He usually had no problem sleeping on the flight, but his conversation with Dr. Tanner had kept him up, chewing on its significance.

  “Paulson Lassiter dropped an interesting bit of intel yesterday in the advisory committee meeting,” Graison said, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand. “Apparently there’s a single AA that has taken over the computer infrastructure all across Zone One.”

  “We suspected that,” Quintana said. “It seemed too organized to be a random system failure.”

  “All the hits on our blackwall were from the same source code,” Pratte added. She pushed the urn of hardball across the table in his direction. His yawning was contagious and even though she looked well rested, she was struggling not to yawn in sympathetic reaction.

  “Exactly,” he said, pouring a refill into his cup. “Interesting thing is he identified it for the first time as Odysseus. I know you have a copy of it caged up in a sandbox at L-2
.”

  “We assumed it was the same code,” the admiral said, nodding. “The copy we have is lamed, but we’re still keeping it locked down to be safe.”

  “Considering what I’ve heard it might be capable of, that’s a good idea,” Graison said. “Do you know what it’s designed to do?”

  Quintana shook his head. “We know what it claims, but I think it has to be some kind of deception.”

  “I’ve never seen an AA that could lie,” Pratte said.

  “Nojo, but one of our cyber-psych experts said this program doesn’t have all the usual inhibiting blocks built into it,” Quintana said. “Given the absurdity of its claims, there’s no way it’s shooting straight.”

  “I’m sure you might think that,” Graison said, “but before you discount anything it might say, let me put this on the table.” He yawned again and shrugged as Carranza glared at him.

  “Stop it,” she mouthed while she struggled not to join him.

  “I had a rather enlightening discussion with Dr. Jahen Tanner. I don’t know if you remember who she is, but she was Chancellor Markhas’ protégé.”

  “I never met her, but I know her by name and reputation,” he said.

  “She gave me a substantial insight into what Odysseus is supposed to do,” Graison said.

  “How does she know about it?” Pratte challenged.

  “Fifteen years ago a covert think tank offered her a position to help develop its core code,” he said. “She didn’t take the job, but in the process of making the offer they disclosed a lot about its purpose and intent.”

  “Did she tell you what it was?” the admiral asked.

  Graison nodded. “She also mentioned something I think is interesting and that might have a bearing on why your houseguest is a hot rock.”

  “Really?” he asked.

  “Have you ever heard of the Sentinel Group?” Graison asked.

  “They’re one of those secret societies that keep popping up. Like the Illuminati,” Pratte said, snorting.

  The admiral nodded. “I’ve heard rumors about them, but that’s all paranoid conspiracy crap.”

  “Apparently not so much,” he said. “She swears that Sentinel built Odysseus.”

  “Fine, let’s assume for a minute I’m willing to buy that,” Quintana said. “What does that have to do with Chancellor Drake?”

  “They were based in New Hope City,” he said.

  “A lot of people are from there,” Pratte said.

  “Yes, but the person who approached Jahen on behalf of Sentinel, was Tana Drake.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Jakob Waltz Fixed Base of Operations: L-4 Prime:

  Jeph sat up in his bed while the last of his morning infusion pumped slowly into his arm. Anju was right, even twenty-four hours without his exosuit crushing the fluid back into his tissue and the pain had become excruciating. So far, he hadn’t asked for anything for the pain, but if it kept getting worse, he knew might need something. Something strong.

  “Morning Governor,” Kiro said, rapping on the wall beside the doorway to his room. He carried a tray of food and sat it down on the swing table beside his workscreen.

  “Not yet,” Jeph said, bolting a smile onto his face hoping the pilot hadn’t noticed the grimace of pain that had settled permanently onto his features. “Operations Manager is probably the right title, since the first step is to declare ourselves a Fixed Base of Operations.”

  “Like a fueling depot or a shipyard?” he asked, popping lightly up onto the top of his dressing cabinet.

  “Exactly,” Jeph said, nodding and then wincing as his neck joints screamed in protest. “Because the Waltz is no longer a ship, our charter and the subsequent intervention charter, both have to be set aside first. From there we have to wait for someone to accept our petition of colony status.”

  “Like Roja?”

  “Actually any ship that arrives here qualifies, but she’ll probably be the first.” He said. “Then we’re officially a colony pro tempore until the claim is registered.”

  “What’s the difference?” Kiro asked.

  “As an FBO the ship and its hardware are still the legal property of the last charter holder on our mission. In this case that’s FleetCartel,” Jeph explained, shifting uncomfortably on the bed and reaching slowly toward the food. “We’ll also have to include a Motion to Vacate Claim against FleetCartel in the first declaration we file. That means unless they can prove that we’re not shipwrecked here, they cannot enforce property rights over the ship. Simultaneous to that we also have to file the Colonization Charter to prevent a counter suit.”

  Kiro shook his head. “Why do we have to do all that?”

  “Because without those steps and another eight or ten more, we can’t legally defend ourselves. If we fail to get the Waltz declared a sole colony holding, then when Roja gets here they can march in and evict us for trespassing on their facility.” He shrugged and groaned, biting his lip to keep from swearing.

  “That sounds like a lot of—”

  “It is. But if we don’t do it right, we’re pegged hard.”

  “We might be anyway,” Kiro said, hopping down and coming over to help Jeph get his food. “Last I heard, they’d suspended most of the laws down-system. Legal rights out here are likely to be based on firepower, at least until the air recycles a couple times in Galileo.”

  Jeph nodded taking the flatwrap the pilot handed him. It took all his willpower to move his arm, but he refused to allow himself to be fed. “I’ve been thinking about that possibility, but I don’t know that there’s much we can do. If the filing isn’t enough to slow her down, then I don’t know what else there is.”

  “We’re sitting on a lot of extra power capacity since we don’t need the reactors to run the engine. We should channel that into upgraded lasers. Kiro opened a diagram of the Waltz on his thinpad and sent the image to Jeph’s workscreen. He highlighted several points on the nose of the ship. “It would take us a few days, but we could route primary power up the outside of the hull and then divert cooling lines from the engine nozzle system. With that extra capacity we could get at least three more lasers mounted and bump the rest up too.”

  “Have you run this past Rocky?” he asked.

  “Not yet. I wanted to know if you thought it was worth the effort before I approach the Czarina,” he said. “She made it clear that this third-assistant-underling-flunky-engineer is not to mess up any of her finely repaired systems with my club fingered ineptitude.”

  “Upgrading from three to six lasers won’t make much of a difference defensively will it?”

  “Depends on if my math is right,” Kiro said. “The engine cooling system has shit-tons more capacity than the HCF lines we used for the first three. That would let us push those close to a full megawatt each. We should have the spare parts to put together at least three more like the ones we’ve already got mounted. Together that would increase our firepower big time. Maybe it’s not enough to take out a ship in orbit since we’re living under a blanket of gas for the foreseeable future, but damned certain they won’t be putting a shuttle down within walking distance unless we say so.

  “You’ve been thinking about this for a while haven’t you?” Jeph asked. It hurt to even chew his food.

  He shrugged. “I’m out of work. A pilot with a ruined ship needs to consider his future occupational options. Once we’re real-like, I want to apply for a position as Defense Minister.”

  “Defense Minister?”

  “Da,” he said. “Sounds snaz and will keep me out of the charity kitchen, true beans?”

  Jeph laughed, but realized he was right. They’d all need to consider their future positions in the colony, or even if they were all going to stay once it was no longer their only choice.

  That was a sobering thought.

  FleetCom Lunar L-2 Shipyard: Lunar Lagrange Two:

  “Investigator Wentworth, may I have a word with you?” Jaxton Quintana caught up with Edison just outsi
de his sleeping quarters on the officer deck. He’d taken a junior officer bunk rather than a suite on the floor with Tana. He didn’t need much more than a bed and a console, and so he preferred to live spartan. Having less of the distractions of luxury kept him focused on the reality of things around him.

  He’d just palmed the latch identifier to his room, and the door hung open. “Of course Admiral. Here or somewhere else?”

  “This is fine,” Quintana said. “I haven’t had much opportunity to talk to you since you arrived, but I’m sure you understand we’ve been smashed flat with work.”

  “It’s not an issue. You have a job to do and I am just a former cop with no needs or ambition beyond staying alive.” Edison pulled himself through the door and across to the fold-out table on the opposite wall. The admiral followed him and tapped the door latch closed.

  “With your choice in traveling companions I’m sure figuring out how to stay alive has become a fulltime job,” the admiral said, winking.

  “It’s been interesting.”

  “May I ask you a couple questions and get your candid take on things?” Quintana asked, pulling himself down into the chair that faced the computer console. He straddled it and wrapped his arms around the back to hold himself in place.

  “I’ll do my best,” Edison said. He grabbed a strap and anchored to the only other chair in the room.

  “First let me say, Chancellor Roja speaks highly of you,” Quintana said. “She expressed more than once that she felt you were the one person in all the Union that she could trust to speak truth regardless of consequence.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “In fact you’re the primary reason we brought the three of you here,” the admiral said. “You’re one of few people on the list of approved guests.”

  “That surprises me.” he said. “I figured Tana Drake would be on that list. She and Chancellor Roja were close.”

  Quintana nodded. “She is on the list, but her status was help if at all possible. Yours is help at all costs.”

  “I wonder if that’s because Tana and Saffia are less likely to be helpless.” He chuckled.

  “Regardless, you’re the reason the three of you got through the gate.”