by B. V. Larson
His lips brushed her fingers and a jolt of arousal raced straight for his groin. It took all of his composure not to seize her right there in a crushing embrace. Talenia’s lips curled in a smile that told him she knew exactly what he was thinking—and liked it.
He’d never met anyone like her.
“Lovely to make your acquaintance, Bill,” said Talenia. “Why don’t we go get a drink and leave the boring bureaucrats behind?” She locked up his arm in hers and steered him toward a secluded alcove.
He found himself powerless to resist such chemistry.
* * *
Grant Lorden turned to John Karst and murmured, “Well done. Even easier than you promised.” His security detail kept potential eavesdroppers at a discreet distance.
“Tachina—sorry, Talenia—is amazing, isn’t she?”
“She is. Even I felt some slight attraction, and I seldom indulge in sex. It clouds the mind.”
Karst winked. “Can’t say the same for myself. Fortunately, my ‘sister’ doesn’t mind this kind of work. You might say she was made for it.”
“Like you and me?” Lorden took a sip of his drink. “How much time do you think she can keep him enthralled?”
“As long as she likes. Six months, at least. Is that enough?”
“It should be. I want him lusting after a D Division contract that will become a complete disaster for Carstairs Corporation. Too much money and influence in the hands of any one person is dangerous to us.”
“And then?”
“Your Talenia will leave him for someone else of our choosing. Carstairs will be a wrecked man. You’ll step in, playing the sympathetic friend. I’ll throw him a bone by steering him a cut of further ships in the Victory class, as well as AIs built for other applications. That will complete his dependence on us.”
“He wants in.”
“Everybody wants in. That’s what it means to be in. Be grateful that you’re in.”
Karst saluted Lorden with the beer in his hand. “Defecting to the Hundred Worlds was the best thing I ever did.”
Lorden clinked his glass to Karst’s. “Defecting might be too strong a word, since you never were really part of the Mutuality at all.”
Karst’s face whitened, though he covered it well. “I don’t understand.”
Lorden speared Karst’s eyes with his own. “No need to worry, brother. We all serve the same masters—you, me, Talenia, even that delightfully sociopathic fellow Lazarus you brought with you. Parliamentary Intelligence is having a field day with him.”
Karst shuddered and turned away. “They debriefed me too. I didn’t realize you knew—or that you were—”
“The same? Those like you and me are untraceable, except by inference and deduction. Obviously engineered clones like Lazarus and Talenia we can explain as the product of Mutuality laboratories, but we were made to be perfectly indistinguishable from those born of woman—at least to a biological test.”
“Then how did you know?”
“You and I went through the same programs, though mine were decades ago. We might even have had some of the same controllers, teachers or field agents. I see the signs.”
“Let’s hope nobody else does.”
“Any humanopts who don’t join us are eliminated.”
“Any you find.”
Lorden shrugged. “Some go native. Some even try to raise the alarm. It doesn’t matter. We keep the nets filled with conspiracy nuts and their wild theories. Aliens among us, masquerading as humans? Old hat for the last thousand years. And we’ve been careful to make everyone believe that aliens really are trying to destroy our way of life.”
“The Hok.”
“A stroke of genius, don’t you think?”
“Yes, genius. Did you have a hand in that?”
“From well before my time, I’m afraid. Our natural lifespans are no greater than any others, though we do tend to stay inordinately healthy long into our declining years. We also have access to the best transplant parts. You should easily reach one hundred twenty. One-fifty is possible. I’m one hundred thirty myself.”
“I like those numbers.”
Karst led Lorden slowly to the rail overlooking the main floor, where those of merely ordinary privilege glanced enviously up at the VIP level. The noise of conversation and music added an extra layer of security, as did a haze of holo-blur around the two men. “Speaking of the Hok,” Karst said, “I still don’t understand how the knowledge that they were mere pawns of an enemy human government has been suppressed for so long.”
“It’s a difficult, coordinated and ongoing effort. The aforementioned disinformation and fake newsvids lay the groundwork, but the key is…” Lorden tapped the back of his skull.
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s because you’re not brainchipped.”
“Other than Hok, the Mutuality only brainchipped certain people for brainlink to specific pieces of machinery, such as pilots and ships. Netlinks were forbidden, and shared virtualities were tightly controlled.”
Lorden smiled. “The Mutuality knew the dangers of brainchips and the nets. Once one surrenders his senses to external manipulation, how can one know what is real?”
“Are you saying that you use brainchips to keep the populace under control?”
“The populace? No, they don’t need such direct methods to remain sheep. They are kept happy with creature comforts and entertainments. If that doesn’t suffice, layers of disinformation will lead the curious through mental mazes of our making. Those who still present difficulties are promoted.”
“Promoted?” Karst turned to Lorden with a lift of his eyebrows. “The Mutuality sent people like that to camps.”
Lorden sniffed. “Such a crude and inefficient method. No, we reserve brainchips for the best and brightest—genetically engineered brainiacs and physicals, university professors, mechsuiters, pilots, those who control the media and so on. It’s a mark of status to be able to plug in and augment one’s capabilities, after all. So when someone makes trouble, they are introduced to D Division. A quick weekend out of town, and they return with news of a wonderful new job—and a brainchip to go with it.”
“And after that, they’re a model citizen.”
Lorden smiled. “Not overnight… but any interest in opposing the government or in digging up genuine secrets quickly fades. The mind is gently adjusted to conform to our desires every time they plug in—and plugging in is always a necessity for their comfortable, well-paying job. It’s a perfect solution. Everyone is happier—us, them, their friends and family, their employer and coworkers.”
Karst shuddered once more. “Glad I’m not chipped.”
“As long as you do as we desire, you won’t be.”
Karst swallowed and looked away, gripping the rail. “Gods. And I thought the Mutuality was a cruel master.”
“Cruel?” Lorden chuckled. “We are the kindest of masters. Why, even our worst criminals are not imprisoned for long.”
“Right. One quick implant and bang, model citizen. It only costs their free will.”
“Freedom has always been an illusion—or at least a limited commodity. Only those at the top really have it. But we provide security, comfort, safety, prosperity—all the things the ordinary person wants. For those who crave adventure, there’s the military or the Exploration Service. For those who want power, there’s the government in public, which is allowed to operate transparently. We even provide the illusion of democracy by allowing people to select their representatives.”
“But that government in public has almost no real power.”
“On the contrary, Mister Karst. Like a warship, it has enormous power. It simply exerts no independent control. We act as its secret captains, aiming and directing that power. We are wise enough to know that the gentler the touch, the easier it is to remain hidden.”
Karst took a deep breath. “Why are you telling me this? Am I going to be whisked off to some lab and implanted?”
“Or else?”
“No need for threats. I’m certain you’ll come around to our point of view once you have a chance to think about it.”
The molecules were on their way. Within hours, Karst would join the team, and he would think he’d done it of his own free will.
After all, brainchips were such crude and inefficient tools of control.
Chapter 21
Engels, Sparta System
Three weeks after receiving Minister Benota’s message, Admiral Engels arrived at the Sparta System. Her scouting force had gotten there the day before, and now Indomitable’s sixteen pieces joined the reduced capital contingent of her fleet, popping into flatspace at wide intervals from one another. Collisions were rare, but they did happen, especially when trying to keep a fleet together.
She had no need to do so, though. In fact, she wanted to present a certain ragged appearance—enough to raid Sparta, but not enough to hold it.
Right now, the Huns’ stealthy scout drones were already launching themselves into sidespace, sending initial reports into the messaging network. They would arrive at other systems, broadcast encrypted databursts, and then rendezvous with specially equipped drone tenders to refuel. Then they would take up station while other drones carried their messages elsewhere. In this way, reports were sent efficiently from star to star, far faster than light itself.
Her scouting forces, all fast corvettes, would have hunted down or driven off the enemy drone tenders by now, leaving Sparta with only the probes in place, hiding among millions of chunks of rock and ice in its comet cloud. Nothing could be done about those—but she could try to show them only what she wanted them to see.
With the arrival of one-quarter of her capital ships, the enemy’s civilian vessels, mostly freighters and passenger liners, chose courses and ran for flatspace—all in the direction of the biggest empty gap in her coverage.
Exactly how she’d planned it.
They were accompanied by three Hun frigates, enough to fend off any of the corvettes that tried to intercept, but too few to matter if they couldn’t make it back to defend the planet.
Six hours later, as the convoy of fleeing prizes reached the point of no return, where they had too much velocity to turn around and retreat to the planetary defense fortresses, her escort fleet of over one hundred frigates, destroyers and light cruisers appeared in front of them, spread in a wide net at the edge of the curved space bubble.
Confronted with this untenable situation, the Hun frigate commanders made the only decision possible. They instructed the civilians to heed the Republic calls for surrender, while they themselves turned and blasted for planetary return at overloaded thrust levels.
Their military grade drives held, as did their discipline. Engels could only imagine their frustration as they allowed their flock to be captured. She added almost twenty ships and the miscellaneous supplies inside to her fleet, at no cost to herself.
The passenger liners she ordered let go after mandating that all aboard view Zaxby’s presentation on the truth about the Hok, detailing how the Hundred Worlds had lied to its citizens. Most wouldn’t believe, and some would come to doubt. She placed armed prize crews aboard the cargo ships and assigned them to her small squadron of auxiliaries.
Next, she moved inward with her widely spread ships, slowly gathering them into squadrons as they converged on Sparta-3, the green world where stood the Carstairs Corporation’s mechsuit-making complex. On the way, her ships compelled the surrender of asteroid mines, fueling stations, and moon-based factories, looting some, occupying others.
One monitor and four fortresses protected Sparta-3, along with the usual assortment of local patrol and attack ships. As Engels had expected, there were no capital ships there. Those were all on the front lines, except for the enemy Home Fleet, stationed in permanent reserve at the Hundred Worlds’ capital world of Atlantis.
With any luck, that mighty Home Fleet, or a significant portion of it, would soon be heading for Sparta, secure in the knowledge that all they faced was a force of lighter vessels—numerous, but no match for elite capital ships. In fact, Engels had deliberately delayed the arrival of all her ships above cruiser size. The Home Fleet would be deep in sidespace, unable to receive reports, when most of her combat power showed up. The enemy would therefore face more than triple what they expected—plus Indomitable, which should be a surprise for only this one more battle.
Three days later, certain that the word had reached Atlantis, and that the Hun Home Fleet must have transited for Sparta, Engels ordered Indomitable reassembled. Sixteen “dreadnoughts” became one battleship, which began firing on the orbital fortresses around Sparta-3.
It took only two hours to reduce that fortress to rubble. Without a supporting fleet and unable to hit Indomitable—which at extreme range could evade enough that even beam weapons would usually miss—the fixed defenses were helpless. They surrendered, though not before sabotaging their own weapons.
The enemy monitor landed on Sparta-3’s moon of Leonidas, and her crew abandoned ship. Her stubborn captain threatened to self-destruct the massive vessel by detonating a nuclear warhead inside.
“Be my guest,” Engels had replied. Then she’d ordered Indomitable to fire one railgun shot, destroying the sitting duck’s engines.
“An unfortunate waste of materiel,” Marisa Nolan remarked from her position on Indomitable’s bridge.
“Better than leaving it to suddenly spring into action,” Engels replied.
Once the Sparta-3 planetary orbit was secured—though not its surface—her staff estimated the enemy Home Fleet should appear in about two days. Her newly arrived capital ships even now took their positions, readying themselves for their part in Engels’ grand deception.
After careful consideration, she decided against sending down what ground forces she had to loot the mechsuit factory complex. She already had few enough marines, and a stubborn defense might ruin her chances to take the critical machines and technology intact.
No, better to win the fleet battle, and then pillage at her leisure, using intimidation from above. If by some chance she lost in space, she could always drop a precision kinetic strike on it. The factory was, after all, a legitimate military target. That would set the enemy back a year at least, giving the Republic a chance to catch up with its own nascent mechsuit program.
Forty hours later, a bit early but well within the expected window, the Hundred Worlds Home Fleet appeared in all its pride and glory at the edge of curved space.
Admiral Engels watched as the Hundred Worlds Home Fleet appeared as close in as possible, near the optimum emergence point. Such arrogance! But her counterpart, probably the famous commander of the Home Fleet Admiral Hayson Niedern, was an arrogant son of a bitch.
He had reason to be, though. His fleet consisted of the most modern ships, with the latest upgrades. The best equipment always went to the Home Fleet—on the Hun side and the former Mutuality side as well.
Only, Engels had turned that around, leaving her old or damaged ships under Ellen Gray in order to take her best deep into enemy territory. Sheer distance—and fear of the attack—would preserve the New Earthan Republic, and every day she bought for the Republic meant damaged ships would be repaired and new ships would be commissioned.
She hadn’t tried to lay mines at the optimum emergence point. She didn’t have the tens of thousands of stealth weapons it would take to cover the space. She had, however, distributed enough scout drones to get close-up, accurate readings as the enemy appeared. Some of those drones were detected and killed, of course, but the more distant ones survived to supplement Indomita
ble’s powerful passive sensors.
“Admiral, observe,” said Nolan with a hand-wave that reshuffled the main hologram. The background lighting dimmed and the display brightened until Engels felt as if the ships that hung in the air above Indomitable’s bridge could be touched, like elaborate models for meticulous hobbyists.
“What the hell is that?” Engels said. “And that?” She stared at two completely unique enemy ships. By their scale they were of maximum size, like superdreadnoughts, but their configurations seemed completely irrational.
“I’ll run the recording forward and it will become clear,” said Nolan. She didn’t bother to access a console. Clearly, Trinity was thoroughly wired into Indomitable’s network. Engels had allowed this, even encouraged it, once she had confidence the triumvirate being wouldn’t interfere with combat operations. The AI synthesis was worth a hundred staff officers and their computers.
The two strange Hundred Worlds ships moved toward each other on fast-forward. One, shaped like a huge egg, was covered with a thick skin of armor and bristled with weaponry—but only from amidships to its slightly narrowed forward end. Its back end was nearly naked, without even fusion drives. It must be moving on impellers alone. That ragged, peeled-appearing skin reminded her of something…
“That looks like the inside of Indomitable’s sections,” Engels said. “The unarmored parts that slide together.”
“Very astute, Admiral. As you see…” Nolan stepped forward and gestured.
Now, the other ship, which looked like some exotic metal serving-bowl with eight legs, or perhaps like an oversized egg-cup, lined itself up on the egg of the other ship. Yes, an egg was the perfect visual metaphor, as the cup-ship and the egg-ship fit themselves together.
Now, the eight enormous “legs” rotated forward until they fit into slots in the combined vessel, locking the two together and leaving only eight double-sided conformal tubes—fusion engines, for sure—arrayed tightly about the ship’s fat waist.