by John Ringo
“Yes, sir,” Palencia said.
“I can’t believe they have enlisted men at this thing,” the general said, shaking his head. “Dinner follows the reception. Do not embarrass us by getting drunk and stupid. Follow orders and report each evening to your respective fathers.”
“Yes, sir,” Palencia said.
“Permission to speak to my father now, my General,” Velasquez said.
“Why?”
“He’s my father, my General?” Velasquez said. He wasn’t about to say that he felt the general was wrong in a very big way.
“And very busy even if he is just chatting,” the general said. “Just circulate. You all should be carrying the trays like monkeys.”
* * * *
It was late and all that Velasquez wanted to do was get this uncomfortable uniform off and go to bed. But duty was beginning to be a strange but comfortable burden.
“Papa, it is Diego.”
“It is late, son, get some sleep.”
“I would but there is something I need to discuss with you. It is in fact important. At least I believe so.”
“Then come to my quarters.”
“I am down the hall. The doors are locked.”
The security door opened and Diego walked down the corridor to his father’s compartment.
“Not the most fabulous accommodations, eh?” his father said, gesturing around.
The compartment was about the size of the one Diego shared with Benito and Palencia. Which meant small. They could barely fit themselves and their gear in it. But that was to be expected. They were the lowest of the low.
Compared to what an undersecretary would normally occupy at a major conference, it was a box.
“The ambassador’s is not much larger.”
“More insults?” Diego asked.
“We do not think so,” Dr. Velasquez answered. “They are the best quarters on the fabber. That people work for years in these conditions...”
“Six hours a day in suits, Papa,” Diego said.
“That is simply—”
“Necessary,” Velasquez said. “Father, this is not what I have come to talk about. But perhaps peripherally. It is about the relationship between Mr. Vernon and EM Parker.”
“A sham,” Velasquez said. “We have figured that out.”
“I must respectfully disagree, Father.”
“On what basis?” Dr. Velasquez asked.
“On having spent six hours a day, in suits, working on a boat with EM Parker, Father,” Diego said, chuckling. “I will not say that there is not more going on here. There is. And it involves Parker. But her relationship with Vernon is very real. At least on his part. Perhaps he is attracted by her looks but I think it is more complex than that. I think it is... cultural.”
“Go ahead,” Dr. Velasquez said, leaning back on his bunk. “Since it’s my degree, why don’t you lecture?”
“Yes, Papa, that is why I think I am right,” Diego said. “Papa, first you must consider the situation of Tyler Vernon. He is notoriously reclusive. He has had any number of opportunities to meet with persons of high estate. He eschews them.”
“He avoids them like the plague,” Dr. Velasquez said. “Go on.”
“He seems to mostly avoid people,” Diego said. “He does not seem to mind them, but he is perfectly comfortable, apparently, alone. He does not even have a particular group of protectors or handlers. He has no personal aide but AIs.”
“That has been mentioned as being a possible issue with his mental health,” Velasquez said.
“I don’t think that is the issue, Papa, sorry,” Diego said. “Vernon simply is a... We say that we think about other people’s culture, but we do not. We still emotionally think of our culture. Our own lives. That he has to... maintain status. And that requires that he interact. Make deals. Make sure his children get the right schools, the right deals, the right spouses...”
“Yes,” Dr. Velasquez said.
“First, he has none of those issues,” Diego said. “He has become as hyperpowerful in the realm of business as, sorry, the United States is in war. In politics as well. Why else are you here? It is not about the Myrmidons.”
“Why, exactly, we are here is not your concern,” Dr. Velasquez said.
“But my point is made,” Diego said. “He simply does not have to play those roles, those... games.”
“Recognized,” Dr. Velasquez said, then shook his head. “Sorry, that was an automatic response. You are right. And it will require much thought. Why is he here? Wait, why is he really here?”
“You were working on his agenda being placating our group of the Alliance for the problems of the Myrmidons,” Diego said, smiling. “To help us save face. Perhaps to polish some alliances. You now realize that he cares less about that than a stray cat in Santiago?”
“You are becoming decidedly subtle, young man,” Dr. Velasquez said. “I’m proud.”
“Strangely, I’m a bit troubled,” Diego said. “Because the more I work with Parker, whom I have come to respect if not like, the more I am troubled. And that cuts to the other part of the relationship. Have you ever really paid attention to Vernon’s relationships with women?”
“What relationships?” Dr. Velasquez said. “According to our intelligence he has passed up the opportunity, repeatedly, with both women and men. It is assumed he is heterosexual trended asexual.”
“Yet, I believe he genuinely likes Parker,” Diego said. “But not because she is female, per se. I think that it is because, somehow, he sees in her his culture.”
“He is the richest man in the world,” Dr. Velasquez said with a snort. “She is not his culture.”
“He is that almost purely American form of self-made rich,” Diego said. “The sort that is not a social climber. They simply wish to be wealthy and powerful and have no interest in taking on the views or attitudes of higher-class culture. Look at his deep background. Raised in a suburb in the conservative area of his country. And his high school record indicates he was what Americans term a geek.’ To the extent there is a sexual component to this relationship, Parker would have been a high status girlfriend when he was growing up. She was a cheerleader.”
“How could we miss that?” Dr. Velasquez said, shading his eyes with his hands.
“Furthermore, they are of similar cultural background,” Diego continued. “How many people does he meet on a regular basis from similar cultural background who are still close enough to it that they... echo it. Most of the time when he meets with military they are admirals whose culture, no matter where they come from, is simply Navy at this point. Parker is perhaps the only person he’s met in a very long time that he can really connect with. I state that it is a real relationship. One of friendship. And the friendship is deeply steeped in their mutual culture. About that I am less certain of the meaning. Parker, herself, warned me of some trap there obliquely. ‘You don’t understand friendship.’”
“Which is why she is included in the meeting,” Dr. Velasquez said. “She is a touchstone.”
“Again, disagree, Papa,” Diego said.
“If you keep being right and everyone else wrong it will go hard with you,” Dr. Velasquez said, smiling. “Why?”
“Although Tyler could easily pull strings to get Parker reassigned to the Troy, where he makes his base, he did not. Yet he pulled those strings to get her assigned to this meeting. Seriously, Papa, do you think that he felt he needed a touchstone for this meeting? He meets with the President of the United States when he, Tyler Vernon, bothers to open up his schedule. I’m sorry but—”
“The foreign minister of Chile is not of the same order,” Dr. Velasquez said. “And when I present these thoughts to the minister I will have to think hard how to put it delicately.”
“Last point, Papa.”
“You’ve been thinking.”
“You know I’m a thinker, Papa,” Diego said, smiling. “This is the thought. We have established that at a certain level Tyler Vern
on’s innate psychology and culture have some resemblance to EM Parker.”
“I will take that as a given for the discussion,” Dr. Velasquez said. “I am still assimilating it.”
“Vastly different conditions,” Diego said. “But similar worldview. Now, Papa, what does that tell you?”
“It tells me it is late, Diego.”
“How many complaints have you generated about EM Parker, Papa?”
“Many. She is simply imposs—” Dr. Velasquez said then grimaced. “Oh, no.”
“It is not the problem of the complaints that you need concentrate on, Papa,” Diego said. “Well, those too. Because you are having to deal with a tremendously powerful person who has the same view of how the universe should work as that lowly EM you have been repeatedly blasting. For, at base, refusing to change her worldview to suit your own. Which means that Tyler is going to have the same absolute stubbornness. And infinitely more power.”
“Now I’m never going to get to sleep!”
“Thank the Virgin Mother I can. Your problem now. Good night, Papa.”
* * * *
“AT LEAST I CAN TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A WARRANTY MALFUNCTION AND SLOPPY MAINTENANCE!”
“And now that we’ve gotten all that out,” Tyler said, holding up his hands. “We’re going to dial it down—”
“IF YOU THINK THAT—” Dr. Barreiro shouted.
“And if the Foreign Minister would kindly refrain from antagonizing the AI that controls our air and gravity—”
“If you think that—” Granadica snarled.
“Whose core I will pull if she doesn’t dial it down...” Tyler said. “And she can spend the rest of the meeting as a small squeaky box on the table.” He paused and looked around. “And now all the colloidals can take some deep cleansing breaths...In through the nose, out through the mouth while the AI runs some soothing checks on her system while saying ‘Oooommmm’...”
“I am in cycle again, Mr. Vernon,” Granadica said.
“I am... in cycle as well,” Dr. Barreiro said. “But I will state that the government of Argentina will have no further imputations cast against its citizens who are members of the Alliance Navy—”
“Well, if you’d-!”
“And we’re stopping again!” Tyler said raising his hands again. “Because every second that passes I am getting older and death’s mighty hand collects us all in its time. And we are drifting gently away from the negatives ... away from the negatives... And... Good. And now we’re going to talk as friends with an issue we must all resolve to repair. Parker.”
“Sir?”
During one of the battles around Troy, Parker and Thermal had ended up in a shuttle working the scrapyard when a Rangora fleet came through the gate. Dozens of battleships, lasers and missiles flew in every direction, and all she could do was sit in the shade of a piece of rubble and hope nobody noticed.
Being in the meeting had so far felt very much like that clash of titans. Except that during the battle, since they were powered down, she couldn’t see what was happening. Here she could watch in terror.
Now everyone was looking at her. That didn’t make it easier.
“Can you, without imputing false actions or lack thereof of any person, colloidal or otherwise, living or dead, who might or might not exist somewhere in this universe, possibly sort out what faults are due to potentially questionable manufacture by some group or system that may remain nameless versus faults that may or may not be due to some potential possible or variable form of maintenance?”
“Sirrr?”
“Which ones are Granadica and which ones are sloppy maintenance?” Tyler said.
“Mr. Vernon, that is—”
“Damnit, Tyler, I thought you were—”
“STOP!” Tyler said. “I was translating. It’s cultural. The actual words intended should be substituted for the previous question in everyone’s mind. Parker. Which are which?”
“Uh, sir...” Parker said.
“Yes, or no?”
“Yes, sir,” Parker said, gulping. “It’s pretty easy, really. The Granadica ones don’t kill you.”
“Heh,” Barnett said. “That’s a good way of putting it.”
“What?” Dr. Barreiro said. “Are you suggesting we are deliberately sabotaging—?”
“That’s not what she said or meant, Foreign Minister,” Tyler said. “Please don’t play that game. I don’t have time or interest. Dana, what do you mean exactly?”
“I’m having a hard time explaining, sir...” Dana said, looking around at “her” people.
“We’ve noted that as well.” Thomas Schneider was the Deputy Chief of Special Projects for the Wolf system. He was an orbital engineer with, at this point, three years experience working on all the various projects that cropped up in Wolf. Unlike the Night Wolves he wasn’t a prototyper, just the “odd job” expert. He also, not coincidentally, was Vernon’s son-in-law. “The faults that can be directly attributed to manufacturing defects are invariably nonlethal by direct form. Which is—”
“Impossible,” Chief Barnett said. “Which is what everyone at the ground level has been saying.”
“And it’s a word that hasn’t been used a lot,” Tyler said. “Define. Dana? Thermal?”
“Ministers,” Thermal said, leaning over and looking at the South Americans. “There are exactly no frills on a Myrmidon. I think you might have noticed that on the way up. Every. Single. System. Has to work perfectly or people die. That is what is impossible about the faults.”
“People keep saying ‘random,’” Dana interjected. “They’re not random!”
“They are as close to statistically perfectly random as you can get,” Schneider pointed out.
“No, they’re not,” Thermal replied. “They are nonlethal. That, right there, proves they are nonrandom. Ministers,” he said again. “When you were flying up here, did you think the ride was smooth?”
“Much smoother than an aircraft,” Dr. Werden said.
“We were accelerating, most of the time, at a speed that would make most fighter pilots pass out,” Captain DiNote said.
“We were?” Dr. Barreiro said.
“Absolutely,” Thermal said. “Most of the time we were pulling ten gravities. During turns we were pulling upwards of thirty. And you didn’t feel a thing, did you?”
“No,” Dr. Barreiro said.
“This part of the discussion is one of the reasons I required that we use Myrmidons,” Tyler said.
“There are seventy-two gravity plates in the main cargo compartment that are why you didn’t feel anything,” the engineer’s mate said. “They control the inertial condition on the ship. Every single one is very difficult to manufacture. Every single one has to be perfect. Every single one has to be in tune. Or you would have been splattered into red goo during the ride. It’s one of the reasons we kept asking for the engineers, your sons, to return to their stations. Among the thousand other jobs they have in flight is ensuring that the inertial control systems remain working.”
“I... didn’t know that about shuttles,” Dr. Werden said, gulping slightly. “I have ridden shuttles many times.”
“Civilian shuttles,” Tyler interjected. “Columbias. They don’t have the acceleration of a Myrmidon. That was why Comet’s shuttle was dispatched during the First Battle of Troy to pick up those passengers. It had a much higher acceleration than a Columbia. They can’t make a shuttle using ‘all Earth’ technology that can do what a Myrmidon does.”
“My point is that if one of those is out of sync, then it’s a disaster,” Thermal said. “There is no way to have one that’s just a teensy bit wrong. They either work or they don’t.”
“So explain Thirty-Four?” Dana said.
“That’s it, you can’t,” Thermal replied, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Nobody can.”
“Thirty-Four?” Dr. Werden said.
“We had a shuttle,” Barnett replied, shaking her head. “It had a fault in the iner
tia we didn’t even notice. Passed every check. Until we got Marines onboard.”
“What was wrong with it?” Dr. Werden asked.
“Imagine...” Barnett said, shaking her head. “Imagine a thousand little fingers up inside your guts, gennntly massaging them.”
“Oh,” Dr. Barreiro said, grabbing his stomach and crossing his legs. “Oh ...”
“Oh, yeah,” Barnett said, grinning. “Which was what we heard from the Marine in the single seat it affected as soon as we hit a particular acceleration curve. Well, that and screaming. It’s hard to get out of those seats fast but he set a record. What should have happened is... what Thermal said. He should have been red goo. Instead he started screaming and hopping around like a madman.”