Steel, Titanium and Guilt: Just Hunter Books I to III

by Robin Craig

  They were happy. It was like when a nagging splinter has at last been removed from one’s foot. There was even talk of a united federation of states. And part of their victory, or at least its speed and thus the saving of many lives, was due to their possession of a certain quantity of superior arms. Those arms, it was discovered loudly by the press, had been supplied by a certain oil company, in secret deals that would have rather stretched the dictator’s imagined friendship with the founder had they been revealed in time for him to hear of them.

  The legal standing of the new country was in doubt. Nothing like this had ever happened before. But the son’s attention to detail matched the grandeur of his vision: he had done his homework. He had new but real land that was his legal property, and when it had still been property under the jurisdiction of a recognized nation had formally seceded from that nation. It had even won a war of independence, such as it was, after which the new country had been left alone. In addition, there was nothing to tempt anyone else: nobody really cared about some rocks in the sea and nobody thought it would last. Also a certain rich oil company, now nominally stateless, was publicly wondering about what new home it might move to if the new political climate of its old home proved too “unfriendly”. At the same time it privately noted, to the former neighbor whose territory now included the site of its current headquarters, just how rich it was. Nothing concentrates the mind of even the most liberal country than the promise of lucrative tax revenues. Some additional private communications from the island further suggested that if its statehood were not recognized it “would blow the whole thing back into the sea anyway.”

  In addition, while the son had not known when or if his crazy plan would bear fruit, he had been cultivating it for years like some secret garden hidden in the hills. He had simply grasped the opportunity when it arrived: he had suspected that the late unlamented dictator might offer one to him sometime. So before the dust had settled in the war his new country had a flag, an anthem, a Constitution and a government. It even had an air force, in the shape of one slightly used military helicopter and some guided missiles. There were a few people who noted the irony that while the dictator’s dreams of eternal glory were dust, they had perhaps given birth to glory in a different form.

  It was enough. The existence of the new country was formally recognized by most countries in the world and ratified by the United Nations. The world waited with curiosity to see what this new thing would become.

  The father who had founded an oil company was proud of the son who had founded a country, if stunned. His dynasty already assured, he retired, retaining a role as advisor to his company and advisor to his son. He was happy, and fascinated by what his son had done. He faced the future with new vigor.

  The new country was named Capital because, the son said, “Well, I am a capitalist, am I not? And I believe that capitalism is not only the most productive but, not coincidentally, the most moral political and economic system on Earth. It is the system of freedom, trade and justice. The name is in honor of that.”

  The world was unimpressed. Political philosophers snorted at his view of capitalism from their taxpayer-funded ivory towers. Political scientists examined its surprisingly short Constitution and scoffed at its naivety: it was as if nothing had been learned in the centuries since the birth of the USA. Indeed it was even more repressive, in terms of what the government was allowed to do, than that earlier document on which it was modeled. Lawyers shook their heads at its simplistic legal system, speechless. Intellectuals alternated between being aghast at its principles when speaking in public and riotously amused at its folly when drinking with friends. Pundits predicted the imminent demise of the experiment in a blaze of man-eat-man anarchy; privately relishing the delightfully ironic prospect that the only way to save it would be the rise of a strongman dictator much like the one whose ambitions had midwifed it. Everyone who wanted to be thought intelligent agreed. It was doomed.

  That was a quarter of a century ago. There had been mistakes, there had been problems, there had been the need for reform and overhaul. But in what country had that ever not been true, from the oldest to the youngest? At first it survived. Then it thrived. It attracted all kinds of rebels, nonconformists and refugees. Other governments hated its principles but liked its existence. It was the trashcan of the world. Even the most repressive dictatorships, which scorned any kind of human freedom, recognized that their worst internal dissidents, too prominent to kill and too dangerous to let loose, could be safely dumped there. More liberal governments had a similar attitude to their own more outspoken rebels. Capital became something like the United States had been in an earlier time.

  There are rebels of many kinds. Those who came to Capital for the wrong reasons did not stay long. Those who came for the right ones thrived, and Capital thrived with them. The most creative people, the ones most sympathetic to ideals of human achievement unchained by mindless rules, were the most attracted to it. Many moved there to start new careers. Many companies, whose owners admired its principles and whose operations were not geographically constrained, moved there too. It gained industry, wealth and population. As a nation it was still small. But it would not be stopped.

  Chapter 54 – Live Free

  Katlyn woke from an exhausted sleep. She had changed out of her work costume into something softer. It made her feel good. Like she was a normal person greeting a normal day, not a criminal or freak who needed to wear armor just to survive another night.

  She rubbed her stomach; she was still sore, but she was getting better quickly. She remained nervous about what they were doing, but if it worked she would never be shot again. Nobody would want to shoot her. She rolled that phrase slowly around in her mind. Nobody would want to shoot me. In one sense it was an enormity, hard to grasp, hard to fit into the reality of her existence. In another, it was the way life was meant to be. Was this what it was like, to be normal? She hoped it wasn’t just an illusion, to be shattered on landing in their hoped-for refuge.

  Through the windows of the Gulfstream she could see the expanse of the Pacific Ocean, sparkling away into the distance until it was lost in haze and the curvature of the Earth. She thought of the first men who had travelled that expanse in fragile ships of wood and canvas; of how easy this was for her compared to them. What took them weeks or months would take her hours. Yet how farther a gulf was she travelling? Perhaps her gulf was too far, as theirs had been for so many of them. But she had to try, just as they had. It was part of being human.

  Tagarin was still asleep. But she smelled coffee brewing and her stomach growled with something other than pain. James was up, cooking a light breakfast.

  “Good morning, Katlyn,” he said. He stood formally and intoned, “Breakfast is served, madam.” Then he smiled. “I wonder how many jobs there are for butlers in Capital,” he wondered.

  “How long until we get there?” asked Katlyn.

  “We must be pretty close. Not long.”

  The conversation and aromas had finally woken Tagarin. He came to join them. After they’d eaten he said, “We’ll be there soon. Let’s go to the cockpit.”

  The pilot had set the jet on auto and was also sleeping. He stretched and said, “Morning boss. Nearly there?”

  “Yes. Mind if I sit in?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Tagarin sat in the copilot’s chair. Katlyn stood behind him, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders. She looked ahead. “There it is! Is that it?” she cried excitedly.

  “It’s the only thing out here,” said the pilot. “Showtime.”

  In less than a minute a light came on in the communicator and an AI voice spoke. “Calling executive jet Gulfstream AX1002-B. This is Capital air traffic control. Please state your business.”

  “We wish to land at Capital.”

  “Landing course has been uploaded to your flight computer. You may land.”

  “Wait,” said Tagarin.

  “Yes?”

  “C
an we take a look around first? Do a bit of a tour? We have never been here before.”

  The request must not have been all that uncommon, as the AI did not shunt them to a higher level or a human but after a few seconds simply stated, “That is permissible. Acceptable altitude and distance parameters now uploading. Please do not encroach within the proscribed limits as that may be viewed as a security threat by automated defense systems. You will be warned but if you do not comply you may be shot down. Do you understand? Do you still wish to sightsee or would you prefer to come straight in?”

  They looked at each other. This was a funny anarchy, Katlyn thought. “We understand and that is acceptable. We will fly around a bit.”

  “Confirmed. When you wish to land, simply accept the earlier flight plan provided. If there is a problem, you will be advised then. Over and out.”

  The jet banked to the left and began a long slow circle around Capital. Tagarin pointed out the features.

  “See that smaller island, with all the high buildings? That’s the original location of the first settlement, and is still the home of what government there is and much of the industry and commerce of the country; they call it Capital City. The larger island half surrounding it also has industry but is mainly residential and recreational. And you see that curved body of water between the two? The one shaped like a big letter ‘C’?” he asked. “They call that ‘The Capital Sea’”. He grinned. “The founders had a bit of a sense of humor. Anyway, as you can see the Capital Sea isn’t very wide and there are several bridges. But it is very deep: there is quite an abyss between the two seamounts. Or what were seamounts.”

  Katlyn took in the sight. The water was a sparkling aqua and looked very clear; she could see dark ledges fading into the depths of the Capital Sea. “What are those ledges under the water?” she asked.

  “Those are coral reefs. Waste heat is released into the sea and the water there is a bit warmer. Apparently the reefs are glorious. It is a very popular spot for divers.”

  “Waste heat? So where do they get the power for all that industry and housing?”

  “The seamounts are still mostly magma inside. This place actually started as a geothermal energy research station, would you believe. The research was successful and Capital has an abundance of cheap electricity.”

  “What is that grey-brown mass stretching away from the houses into the sea?” asked James.

  “That’s new land in the process of being formed. They use an army of small solar powered and self-refueling robots to extract minerals from the ocean and build floating honeycomb blocks. The company that does it takes the more valuable metals and the waste gases like chlorine that the robots collect, and sells them here or as exports. The building side is almost a charity: it about breaks even with land and development sales, I hear. But they do it because they figure the more people who live on Capital the bigger a local market they have, and the richer they’ll get in the long term.”

  James said, “I can see how that could be economical, and even I could probably afford to buy a house here as much as at home. But that’s now. How the hell – excuse me, my butlery is slipping – how could anyone have afforded to move here in the early days? Building up the initial infrastructure must have been fantastically expensive.”

  “That was the founder’s decision. He was scion of a big oil company, and the big oil company had a lot of money. This put a bit of a dent even in its bottom line. But the founder basically donated the capital cost, as it were, to Capital. People asked why – at heart he was a shrewd businessman, not a philanthropist. From memory his answer was: ‘My father wished to create an oil dynasty that would serve his family for generations. I wished to create a legacy to support my family for generations in a different way: by creating a place for them to live. And my family includes everyone with the same ideals.’

  “He thought that once it got started, things would rapidly get cheap enough for almost anyone to move here, whereas if he priced things by the usual formulae it would never get started. It appears even capitalists can believe there are some things worth more than money.”

  They were silent for a while, pondering the reality of what the man had created, now spreading its wings across the sparkling sea below. Then Katlyn said, “Wow. A whole floating city. But what about storms and that kind of thing?”

  “The blocks ride fairly high and are all linked together with cables, so not only is each block heavy, the total mass is enormous. And they have cables connecting them to the seamounts to hold them in place. The structure also makes an effective wave break. People don’t live on the outer rings. They are all for future development when they themselves are protected, or for special purposes where a bit of rocking isn’t a problem. Mainly recreational facilities, diving platforms, fishing boat moorings, oyster and clam farms, that sort of stuff.

  “The only real danger is tsunamis. But a tsunami is only a problem when it hits land: they pass right under ships at sea without being noticed. The small island is still land, but I believe they have some underwater structures intended to divert much of the tsunami energy, and all the buildings on it are as tsunami-proof as they can be. Because the rest is floating with good clearance underneath, any tsunami will pass right under them.”

  They flew around for a while longer, taking in the sights. It didn’t look like the traditional view of an anarchy: no burning buildings, for one thing. It looked – peaceful. Buildings glittered in the sun, green parks dotted the landscape, sailing boats flew before the wind. Tagarin lifted his hand to hold Katlyn’s. “OK, let’s go in, people.”

  ~~~

  Capital had the reputation of letting anybody in, but the anybody couldn’t just rock up on an outer reef. Well they could, but it was frowned upon by the inhabitants. And there was little point anyway unless you were a spy or violent criminal, which was even more frowned upon.

  The Gulfstream landed on its assigned pad outside the main entry point to Capital. After landing Katlyn put on dark sunglasses and tucked her tail under her shirt; it would do for casual inspection. Then they all disembarked and walked up the path to an imposing entrance. Above was written in large gold letters, “Live Free”.

  James looked at it quizzically. “What’s that? It looks like half the motto of New Hampshire.”

  Tagarin replied, “It’s the official motto of Capital. I guess they figured that here, the second half is unnecessary.”

  Beyond the entrance the options for further progress split into three, one labeled “Visitors”, one “Citizens” and one “Immigrants.” The others elected to enter as visitors. They weren’t entirely sure about this, and after discussing it among themselves had decided to check the place out. If they hated it they’d take their chances back in the States. They could always claim coercion. That their families were on the jet could be explained as extortion rather than aiding and abetting, and who could prove otherwise? If they took one look and even that was too much they could leave immediately.

  Tagarin and Katlyn had no such choice. Their roulette wheel was already spun and there was no chance for another bet. “Oh well, this is what we came for. Let’s go,” said Tagarin.

  They walked along the pathway. It was still early morning and the place wasn’t busy right now. Only one official was present but there was an automated prescreening point to get through first. As they approached it an AI spoke. “This entrance is for people seeking immigration into Capital. Weapons are not allowed inside Capital except for citizens. If you have weapons you must leave them secured outside: storage is available for a fee if needed. Capital has no entrance requirements except for respecting the rights of others. Violent criminals are not allowed. Most other things are allowed. Respecting the rights of others includes taking responsibility for your own livelihood. You must have a job or your own resources. You may enter without a prearranged job but if you cannot find one before your money runs out, you will almost certainly have to leave: while Capital has private charities in case of g
enuine need, there are enough opportunities that failing to support yourself is not normally accepted as need. Most citizens do not accept foreign currency but most banks will exchange it for local credit. Many places will also buy valuables from you. If you understand and agree to these conditions, please place your palm on the plate. If not you may leave without penalty.”

  They looked at each other. Each placed their hand on the plate and the door opened. “Please proceed to the officer you see ahead of you.”

  They walked up to the immigration officer, who asked, “Do you understand what you just agreed to?”

  They nodded. “Yes.”

  “Do you have identification?”

  Tagarin held out his arm so his phone was near the scanner. “Please confirm by placing your hand on this plate and looking into the device I am holding.”

  “Thank you, Dr Tagarin. There is an outstanding warrant for your arrest in the United States of America. The charges are theft, fraud, blackmail, consorting with known criminals, resisting arrest, assault on police officers and violation of the human genetic integrity laws. These are serious charges, and if your government traces you here they may choose to request your extradition. If they do you may surrender yourself or choose to appeal. If you appeal, you will be required to show in a Capital court why the charges are invalid or a violation of your rights. If you fail to satisfy the court you may be expelled, and some or all of your property may be confiscated to pay for the costs of your appeal. Do you understand?”

  Tagarin nodded. It was better than it might have been. He didn’t know what his chances would be if GenInt or the government tried to get him, which they probably would. On the one hand he had done everything he was accused of. On the other he had done them for reasons he thought justified; he had done them for justice, not against it. Whether a court would agree was the question. He hoped Capital had some good lawyers for hire.