by Ryk E. Spoor
Yeah, Fenelon’s always been a sharp one. He might have something here, he just might.
It could work, Ariane said cautiously, beginning to hope that there was a way out of this mess.
Robert Fenelon looked at Ariane. “If I understand correctly, if you agree to our arrangements you would be bound by them—that is, if we did vote to strip you of your authority, we would be able to do so and then choose—ourselves—a new Leader?”
Ariane nodded slowly. “That’s the way I understand it, yes. If I accept the arrangements, then the Arena accepts that those are the rules. Seemed to work that way with the Blessed—they had specific rules and they followed them.” Especially when I take into account what happened with Sethrik. Obviously the hoops that had to be jumped through had to be done in the right order.
“Good,” Fenelon said. “Then that would address General Esterhauer’s main concern. We would not be dependent on whether you wanted to follow our rules; we could, in fact, remove you if the situation were grave enough, and we would not need force of arms or any argument with you or yours, simply a vote of an emergency committee.
“At the same time, it gives you the full authority of law to act as you see fit, as long as you don’t . . . go so far that we feel ourselves impelled to act. A five-year interval for what amounts to a vote of confidence should not be overly onerous, I would hope. I could also see us agreeing to confirm some, though not all, of your candidates as potential successors. Perhaps a list which includes one of yours, one of ours, and so on.” He looked at both the general and Ariane Austin. “If we can work out the details, would you both be willing to accept this compromise?”
Ariane looked at the others—and especially at DuQuesne and Simon. “What do the rest of you think?”
DuQuesne shook his head. “Before anyone gets ahead of themselves, I don’t want it said that any of this was being agreed to while anyone was not really fully in possession of their faculties.”
“Eh?” Fenelon looked confused, as did most of the others present. Ariane echoed the sentiment. What in the world are you talking about, Marc?
“General Esterhauer, you were in communication with someone outside of this room at crucial moments—despite the blackout we had attempted to impose. Moreover, when we finally succeeded in disconnecting, you seemed momentarily at a loss.”
“When you . . .” Jill Esterhauer glared at DuQuesne. “The fact that my advisors were not cut off is hardly evidence that my faculties were diminished; rather it’s evidence that I have better preparations in my comm-net than most people.”
“Just a question, General,” Gabrielle Wolfe spoke up. “Do you sanction the use of lethal force to protect your advisor connections?”
Esterhauer looked honestly taken aback. “What? No, of course not.”
“Well, then, you have a problem, ma’am, because the defenses of that connection included piranha seekers at top-level capability. My AISage’s doing a full cleansing restore and reboot now, and it was a near thing that he didn’t drop the code in my brain—meaning I’d be probably brain-wiped or close to it.”
My God, Ariane thought, appalled. That kind of malicious code was one of the true horrors of brain-computer integration; you could catch the same mind-destroying diseases, and instead of months or years, the loss of everything you were would take seconds.
It was indeed that bad, Mentor’s voice said inside her head. I have, however, isolated one of the instantiations in case someone wishes to examine the design.
“If you want to look at the evidence,” Ariane said to Esterhauer, “My AISage caught one of the seekers. And recorded the whole sequence of events.”
A shadow of the same suspicion showed on Esterhauer’s face, but there was also concern and confusion. “I . . . would very much like to have my people examine all of the evidence,” she said. Then she wavered and collapsed to her knees.
“General!” Saul Maginot was next to her. “What is it?”
The stiff military bearing was gone now; Jill Esterhauer was obviously badly frightened. “I was trying . . . to dig out the memory of what . . . who I was talking to . . . and I can’t. My AISage, Damon, he cannot recall the connection, he went active, I’m . . . confused . . .”
“Quick!” DuQuesne snapped. “Shut her down, Gabrielle! Her and her AISage—need to get them stabilized now!”
Gabrielle Wolfe looked helpless. “I . . . don’t think I have the right—”
Oasis Abrams shouldered the others aside and whipped an injector from one of the pouches distributed around her body; in a single smooth motion she knelt and jabbed the injector right into the base of Esterhauer’s skull. The General immediately collapsed, caught by Oasis before she could hit the floor.
“You just happened to be carrying a dual-mode anesthetic dose on you?” Ariane said in disbelief.
“Not ‘just happened,’ no. I’ve had a lot of . . . interesting jobs over the years, Captain. Having a way to shut down someone and their AISage simultaneously has always been a very useful thing to have.” She turned to Esterhauer’s soldiers, some of whom were still trying to cover the group. “Put your weapons down, people. We were talking, not shooting, and your commander needs medical help, not guns.”
One of the armored figures, in the markings of a CSF Master Sergeant of Marines, glanced over to White Camilla and then to Saul; both nodded, and the squads stepped back and put away their weapons.
Gabrielle was kneeling next to Esterhauer. “Sorry y’all, but we need to get her to a real hospital stat—Kanzaki Central will do. No telling what kind of damage has been done, or might get done if they wake up. Sounds like whoever she’d been in contact with had some kind of logic bombs set up—both in her, and her AISage. Hope we can salvage most of her, though.”
“Of course,” Saul agreed. “Captain Austin?”
For a moment she didn’t understand what Saul was asking, then it hit her. “Of course, one moment.” She concentrated. Mentor, open up channels.
The sense of the wider net came to her instantly, and she could see the ripple in the rest of the assembly as they felt full senses and access restored. Immediately the emergency services group responded to Gabrielle’s signal.
It’s never simple, is it? She sighed. “And just when I thought we had everything settled.”
“I think we have found a solution,” Saul said kindly, as General Esterhauer was carried away. “Hammering out the exact details and ratifying it may require a few more days, but from this sequence of events it is obvious that there are forces that do not want you to succeed . . . and that,” he continued, with a fierce twinkle in his eye, “makes me even more determined to see to it that you do.”
CHAPTER 56
“No,” Jill Esterhauer said apologetically, “I’m afraid I have no leads for you.”
She smells . . . very straightforward. Wu sighed and nodded to DuQuesne, who grimaced.
“Yeah, I was afraid of that. Your AISage and your interface were suborned. According to the forensic scans, probably happened quite a while ago, but there’s no locking it to an exact date. Figuring out how it all happened, and who caused it . . . if we can do it at all, it’s going to take time.”
She shrugged. “I had a secure backup which could be used to do comparative repair, so I should be back to myself. The neurological effects of such a savage attempt to cascade my own brain and AISage into destroying each other are also reversing . . . thanks to Colonel Abrams’ quick actions.”
Oasis smiled sunnily. “All in a day’s work, Ma’am.”
“I’m glad you’re really recovering,” Ariane said finally. “I hadn’t really expected you’d have more information, either.”
“Captain Austin, I do want to make one thing clear. I have carefully gone over the events of yesterday, now that I know my mind is once more my own, and upon full reflection I stand by my words. I think our unknown adversary did little to change who I am, merely used that and would have pushed me over the edge into more extr
eme behavior had they been given that opportunity.” The general’s brown eyes suddenly brightened. “But I also stand by my willingness to keep an open mind, and I think Mr. Fenelon’s outline of a plan is a workable one.”
Wu could feel the release of tension throughout the room; he couldn’t help but smile, and Ariane’s grin lit up the room. “I think so, too.”
“I did some research in the hour or so before you arrived,” General Esterhauer continued, “and found a number of other precedents for similar arrangements in the past.” She shook her head. “Honestly, something like it should have occurred to more of us—and would have, I think, if we still actually had much in the way of governments.”
I don’t understand that. Seeing no reason he couldn’t speak, Wu Kung said, “Hey, General—what do you mean you don’t have much government? Someone must rule and others must serve, yes?”
“And do you serve or rule, Sun Wu Kung?” the general returned.
“Um . . . I do both. Or neither. I am no one’s slave and don’t care to be anyone’s master!”
There was a ripple of good-natured laughter. “Yeah, that’s about right, Wu. And that’s basically the way the whole solar system is, and has been for close on two hundred years. When people can have pretty much whatever they want for the asking, and when privacy and safety can be assured by the same technologies . . . well, pretty soon no one needs a government for much.”
“But how can . . . oh! Your wishing nanotechnology things!”
Jill Esterhauer did not quite succeed in hiding another smile as she answered, “Yes, the AIWish designs and similar systems. And when powerful government disappears and people are free to do what they will, when they will, without need to work except as they will . . . they think much less of governments, just as people in cities would often stop thinking about how much effort it took to produce the food they could purchase.”
Ariane nodded, catching his eye. “Which means, Wu, that most of us only encounter powerful governments in our simgames. Which we don’t usually think about when dealing with the real world. Only history buffs like Fenelon really think about those kind of things regularly.” She looked suddenly thoughtful. “Hmm. I just had an idea . . .”
As she spoke, Wu sensed someone else just arriving; the scent was familiar and non-threatening, so Wu did not turn suddenly but waited for the others.
“If it involves dragging me to your Arena,” came Fenelon’s tenor voice from the doorway, confirming the identity Wu’s nose had given him, “we should discuss that idea soon. But not quite now.”
“What brings you here, Robert?” Esterhauer asked.
“Well, the Council was not idle after that little interruption. We reconvened shortly afterward and have come up with a much more detailed and yet, I think, simple approach which addresses both sides’ needs.”
The Monkey King could tell that Mr Fenelon was now using that transmission trick, that was sort of like mindreading, to show Ariane and the general the overall plan. Wu knew he should get implants to receive such things—there were a lot of uses to this “headware” stuff—but it just wasn’t natural. A warrior’s body and spirit had to be kept pure.
“I like it,” Esterhauer said after a moment.
“So do I,” Ariane said. “So the emergency oversight group can only be activated by a two-thirds majority of the entire council?”
Esterhauer nodded. “And the oversight group itself can recall the Leader then by a simple majority; with seven members it is unlikely to deadlock unless one abstains.”
“We get to pick two members,” DuQuesne commented. “The SSC and CSF also get to pick two each.” He chuckled. “And the last one’s chosen at random. Sounds reasonable to me.”
“I already have one choice in mind,” Ariane said, and Wu raised an eyebrow. Her posture already shows her choice. Ariane pointed. “You, General Esterhauer.”
“Me?” Jill Esterhauer looked somewhat surprised. “I am much less likely to support you than many others are.”
“And that’s part of the point. I need the authority to do what has to be done, yes, and I can’t afford to be second-guessed at every turn. But what I really don’t need is someone back home who’s afraid to shut me down if I start to go overboard. And one thing I’m damn sure of—you’re not afraid to do what needs to be done.”
General Esterhauer blinked, then laughed. “Yes, I think I proved that rather thoroughly yesterday when I decided your coup attempt needed to have a coup staged against it.” She nodded to Fenelon. “Put me down, then. I accept Captain Austin’s nomination. Let’s hope that there’s never any reason for me to take up that position.” She paused. “Hold on. This position won’t prevent me from going to the Arena, will it?”
“I hadn’t thought of that being a requirement,” Robert Fenelon said. “Do you think there’s a reason it should be?”
“Hell no,” DuQuesne said emphatically. “The opposite, I’d think—anyone who wants to make those kinds of judgments really should at least spend a little time in the Arena and understand what the place is like. As much as anyone can, anyway.”
Ariane nodded. “Part of the whole point, really. I’d encourage the whole Council to find time to do a little visiting, and anyone who’s going to have a significant part in Arena affairs should spend a lot of time in the Arena, especially with anyone they think will be involved—Powerbrokers, trading partners like Olthalis or the Analytic or the Tantimorcan, and so on.”
“I’ve forwarded that recommendation . . .” Fenelon said, “and . . . the Council has ratified it as a recommendation with a strong incentive for those on the oversight group and any Arena-focused workgroups.” He grinned at Wu through his black-and-white beard. “One advantage of having almost no government is that what little we have can move fast.”
Wu laughed and did a quick flip of appreciation, brushing the ceiling with his tail as he did so. “Ha! You certainly do! I remember trying to get the Celestial Bureaucracy to do anything took months—if they were fast!” Belatedly, he remembered that none of that was real to these people, and he braced himself for the odd looks or worse. On the heels of that realization, the memory of the ruined suspension chamber came back from the place where he’d pushed it, and he felt the chill fear that all of it was lost—the friends, the loves, the enemies . . . his children, his world.
Instead of being either puzzled or derisive, Robert Fenelon nodded, smiling. “So I had heard. But—if it would not be too much trouble to ask—I would be fascinated to hear some details of the . . .” he hesitated, and Wu forced himself to pay attention to his scent. He’s trying not to offend me, and doesn’t know how to say it without making me angry or sad.
He shook off the mood and let a fanged grin show. “Details of the version of that world that I lived in?”
“Well . . . yes. I’m glad you’re not bothered by that.”
“I am, sometimes. But I can’t be bothered all the time, and now . . . Well, it may all be gone now. We don’t know yet. And if it is gone . . . then only my memories, only my words, will recall the Mountain of Fruit and Flowers, the Seven Celestial Dragons, the battle I had with Sha Wujing that threw down one mountain range and raised another . . . the flowers I first picked for Sanzo . . .” He looked down for a moment, then up with a smile less wide than his earlier grin. “Anyway, if it really interests you, I can talk about it until the sun has set and risen again.”
Fenelon chuckled. “Of course, in space the sun never sets.”
“Yeah,” DuQuesne said. “So let that be a warning to you.”
CHAPTER 57
Ariane stepped into the Council Chamber, followed by Wu and the others. Her steps echoed in the large room, a sound noticeable because everyone in the room was silent, seated, looking at her.
And is that good or bad, I wonder?
Relax, came DuQuesne’s reply.
Yeah, chill out, Oasis sent. What’s the worst they can do, really? Reject your proposal. Then they’ll still have to
deal with the fact you’re the big boss in the Arena.
Wu put a hand on her shoulder. It was just for an instant, the lightest touch, but it told her that Wu could sense her tension and was letting her know he was there.
I’m not worried about me, she thought to herself. With friends like these, I fear no enemies, really. But if they don’t go for it, I’m afraid for everyone else.
She halted a short distance from the podium, where Saul Maginot was the only person standing. “Commander Maginot,” she said, and nodded her head.
Saul nodded back. “Welcome back to the Council Chambers . . . Faction Leader Ariane Austin.”
She heard DuQuesne’s vindicated laugh, saw Wu give a triumphant leap, but for herself was only conscious of an immense sense of relief . . . followed by an even more tremendous feeling of weight descending upon her. Now I really am in the captain’s seat.
But she couldn’t allow any sign of that; reluctance or second-guessing—at least for this decision—were something she had chosen to leave behind when she set this all in motion. Instead she straightened. “Thank you, Commander.” She looked around the Council. “May I ask what the vote was?”
“Of the two hundred three members who were present—and therefore all of those eligible to vote in a closed session—there were one hundred eighty-seven votes for, no votes against, sixteen abstentions.” He stepped away from the podium. “Now, Faction Leader—”
“Ariane, please. Or if we are being formal, I think I’ve gotten used to being called Captain.”
Saul grinned at that. “Rather as I’ve remained Commander Maginot since Hyperion, yes. Very well, Captain Austin, would you care to address the Council and give us your initial thoughts?”
Good thing I thought about this beforehand. It would be awfully embarrassing to have fought for the position and then have nothing to say.
She stepped to the podium and surveyed the room. “First, let me thank you all—those of you who voted for this plan, and those who chose to not vote against, but—I would guess—to accept what had happened and wait and see.