Rhapsody For The Tempest (The Braintrust Book 3)

by Marc Stiegler

  The three women just stared at him for a moment. The mayor grunted in exasperation. The fact was, this Jam person was the most attractive woman he had seen in months. “Well, come in for a cup of tea, and we can talk.” He glared at Nuan.

  Nuan responded quietly, “Let me prepare the tea for you.”

  The mayor grunted and led his guests into the dining room to sit down.

  Jam started the conversation. “You might have difficulty believing this, but in fact every person in your village has passed our qualifying test. There are some additional tests they will need to pass once they arrive on the Fuxing, but I have confidence that they’ll pass with flying colors.”

  The mayor gaped at her. “Your tests must be broken.”

  Jam shrugged. “Perhaps. But since they passed, my job is to get them to the Fuxing. There aren’t enough vehicles here to transport everyone. I was wondering if you could help.”

  The mayor couldn’t believe his ears. “You want to take my whole village? What would I do for workers?”

  Jam paused, then offered softly, “You could come to the Fuxing too. As mayor, I am so confident you would pass the testing we can skip it.”

  Nuan returned with the tea. “It’s a very generous offer.”

  The mayor accepted his cup. “Ha! I’ve heard about the cabins on the BrainTrust. All tiny.”

  Jam persisted. “But you would have one all to yourself. Your villagers will be packed in four to a cabin, at least until they find or create jobs for themselves.”

  Julissa tapped the elegant white teacup decorated with lotus petals. “You have a beautiful tea service here.” She took a sip, looking mischievously over at her boss. “Very modern.”

  The foreign woman glowered at her underling, then turned a radiant smile on the mayor. “And the cabins are all top of the line, with all the most modern conveniences.”

  The mayor had to admit that sounded attractive. “How many workers would I have?”

  The question stopped the foreigner in her tracks. “We do things a little differently on the BrainTrust. You’d have to, uh, put together a business plan. You might want to learn how things work first. We have this exceptional educational system—”

  The mayor had heard enough. “I hardly need to go back to school to learn how to manage workers.”

  He watched as Nuan looked at Jam with an expression that clearly said, I told you so.

  He suddenly realized that no one had asked his permission to take his people. They were planning to just leave! He was invited, but they were going to go regardless!

  Well, he would put a stop to this right now. “No one is taking my workers anywhere! I’ll zero out all their social credit!” He rose in fury. “There’s no way out of the country for them!” He straightened in a display of dignity and pointed to the door. “Enough. You have overstayed your welcome.”

  Nuan apologized profusely, saying that Ms. Jam did not understand what she’d been asking. Thereafter the women departed quietly, though something in the foreigner’s eyes left the mayor feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. He marched to his phone and started dialing, and eventually, he got a connection. “This madwoman is going to kidnap all my villagers! Send someone to detain her at once!”

  10

  Escape Escapades

  Tactics without strategy is the noise before defeat.

  —Sun Tzu

  Matt barely heard the doorbell, so steeped was he in the numbers before him. He was still amazed at how quickly he’d burned through so much money, but all the ventures were paying off. Dash had been right; his costs were going down, and all the extra revenue was going straight to the bottom line.

  The doorbell rang again and he went to the door. “Dash! What an unexpected pleasure.” He waved her in. “What can I do for you?”

  She followed him into his office. “I need you to pick up on another opportunity.” She synced her tablet to his wallscreen, showing him a Titan spaceship with hundreds of passengers boarding, lifting off, landing, and debarking the passengers once more.

  Matt watched dreamily. “The intercontinental limo. Forty-five minutes to anywhere on Earth. One of the few goals my predecessor set out that he could never fulfill.” His eyes turned hawkish. “The regulatory hurdles with building the spaceports were insurmountable.”

  Dash smiled mischievously. “Not anymore.”

  Matt looked into her eyes with a puzzled expression.

  “You can put a ship like the Heinlein within a hundred kilometers of any coastal city in the world. Think about it, Matt.” As Matt shook his head, dazed, she added, “Yet another BrainTrust moment?”

  Matt jumped to his feet. “We can do it!” He rubbed his hands together. “Ha! Ha!”

  Dash laid her tablet on his desk. “And I have just the opportunity for your first passenger service. You can save a whole village from terrible oppression.”

  Matt eyed her suspiciously. “As usual, you have an ulterior motive.”

  Dash looked away. “Well, yes, but it is still a good idea.” She explained about Jam, the Army unit on her trail, and the village full of people who belonged on the Fuxing; all except the mayor, who planned to force them to stay.

  Matt rolled his eyes. “Dash, the Chinese missile defense command will see us coming and blow us out of the sky. It’s not like they’d give permission if we asked nicely.”

  Dash conceded, in her own way. “I think Ted and I might be able to help with that, and the flights won’t last very long. You’ll launch from the Western Pacific, land in Baotong, then launch again after just a few minutes and make an even shorter trip to the Fuxing.”

  Matt pursed his lips. “We don’t have a capsule capable of carrying a whole village.”

  Dash pushed another button on her tablet, and a standard SpaceR cargo capsule appeared on the wall. “You almost do, for a short trip like the one from Baotong to the Fuxing. We can modify your regular cargo capsule to load a lot of people. No air recirculation or acceleration couches, but they won’t need extra air for a flight this short, and you can keep the g-forces low and still have enough fuel for such a suborbital flight like this.”

  Matt still looked doubtful.

  Dash persevered. “There’s really no trouble with financing for this one. Lenora Thornhill will pay for the modifications to the capsule and the Titan that Ted will make. You, of course, will undertake the rescue for free.”

  Matt snorted. “For free? I will?”

  “Of course. It will only cost you a load of fuel if things go well. Keenan is all set to discuss insurance options with you if things go less well. This will be a striking yet inexpensive demonstration of your new passenger service. What do you Americans call it? A publicity stunt?”

  That pushed Matt over the edge. One of the criticisms he’d faced lately was that he wasn’t flamboyant enough, that he didn’t go out on a limb the way his predecessor had done. In one single stroke, he could put that complaint behind him. “So, when do you go to work on the capsule? And what exactly is Ted going to do to my beautiful Titan?”

  Diric spoke, though he hated to bother his boss when she was napping. “Ms. Ping, I think we need to stop for gas now. Pretty soon we’ll be over the ocean, and there won’t be another place to fill up.”

  Ping popped up in her seat. “What? Uh, sure, right.” Her soul snapped back into her body. “You’re the expert on where to get gas, Diric. Land wherever.”

  Diric muttered he as pointed down, “In Somalia. I never expected to see my old country again.”

  Ping watched as Diric brought the plane into a smooth descent, aiming for a ramshackle little store. As usual, the store had no gas pumps, but as they got closer, she could see the quart and gallon glass bottles used in this part of the jungle to store gasoline. “Good thing these engines can use just about any liquid that burns.” She’d have to try vodka for fuel sometime…but not when they were far from home.

  Ping had lost track of the hours they’d spent flying across the center of Afr
ica. They’d started about fifteen minutes after Ping got the call from Colin telling her that Jam was in trouble in northern China and Dash was launching a spaceship to get her and the whole village of Baotong out of there. A rescue was afoot, and Ping needed to be in on it.

  She had to thank Jam for getting into enough trouble to compel Dash to invent a whole new generation of stealth copters. And she had to thank someone—probably Colin—for teaming her up with someone as insightful as Ciara. Who else, when told that they needed a stealth copter for their mission of peace, would say, “Oh, yeah, we’re printing one for you on the Archimedes as we speak. After all, we both know that not only do you want a fast, stealthy, long-range copter but we also know that you’re going to need it. Why you’ll need it, I can’t possibly imagine, but need it you will.”

  Clearly, Ciara’s perception of reality was spot-on.

  So here Ping was, teaching Diric to drive a copter using the brutal learn-by-experience method generally abjured by Ciara and her mother. Fortunately, Diric had proven an avid and talented learner.

  At first Ping had been afraid they’d run out of gas and have to land in some goddam savage land and fight their way out, but Diric had just laughed. “There’s fuel all over the interior of Africa. You just have to know how to look for it.” The kid had been right about it all along.

  And he was right again. They landed next to the store. A little boy stared at them and their copter in awe. Diric talked with the shopkeepers about buying up almost their whole current inventory of gas.

  Ping looked around. Four scruffy young men were eyeing her and her copter without the awe. They looked like hungry wolves who had just spotted dinner.

  Ping turned casually in their direction, bouncing lightly on her feet to warm up. She smiled brightly.

  Behind her, Diric yelled joyfully, “Abshir! I never thought I’d see you again.”

  The wolfish young men lost the tension in their muscles. They relaxed, and Ping saw them as merely the adolescent boys they were.

  Diric embraced Abshir, explaining, “Ms. Ping, this is my cousin. Abshir, this is my new boss. She pulled me out of the water when my uncle took me to hijack her ships. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Abshir thanked Ping for saving his cousin.

  Diric clasped his hands pleadingly; he had an idea. “Ms. Ping, can you take Abshir on the Prometheus too? He’s really smart, and a good guy.”

  Ping raised an eyebrow. Somebody who had been about to try to rob a BrainTrust peacekeeper with mad skills struck her as being neither good nor particularly bright. But then, Diric had tried to hijack an isle ship, which on the face of it was a more ridiculous proposition. She smiled at Abshir. “If you make your way to our archipelago off the coast of Nigeria, we can probably find something for you.”

  Diric clapped. “Abshir, do it. Really.”

  Abshir looked skeptical but waved to them gaily as they departed.

  As Ping brought them back on course, she found herself wondering about Abshir’s possible travel arrangements. “So, Diric, if Abshir does decide to come to us, how’s he gonna get across Africa? Is there airline service between Somalia and Nigeria? Would he take his car?”

  Diric chuckled. “Oh, Abshir doesn’t have enough money for a car or an airplane ticket. I imagine he’ll walk.”

  Walk all the way across central Africa? Ping thought about asking if she’d misunderstood but didn’t have the heart. She suspected she’d understood perfectly well.

  Jam could not sleep. She could not understand how the villagers, all gathered with their tiny bundles in Baotong’s version of a town hall, could snore so peacefully. Eventually, she gave up trying to join them and went outside.

  In the distance she could see a handful of lights. Squinting, she concluded they could only be one thing: the lights of the encampment of soldiers that people from numerous villages had mentioned. Soldiers who seemed intent on tracking her down.

  Jam wondered why no one had simply sent a local policeman to question her if there were a problem. To the best of her knowledge, no one had a complaint with her, except no doubt the headmaster of the web addiction rehab center. Could he possibly have enough clout to send such an immense force after a single woman? What justification could he have used? Perhaps she should find out.

  A plan formed in her mind. It was foolish. Ping would certainly approve, which demonstrated its lunacy. But what was the point of having skills if she did not use them from time to time? It would keep her from getting rusty.

  Major Zhang awakened to the soft touch of a woman’s hand on his cheek. The merest hint of perfume accompanied the hand. At first, he thought he was dreaming.

  Then a woman chuckled ever so softly over him. “Wake up, Major Zhang. I think perhaps we should chat.”

  The major jerked awake and tried to rise, but a gentle hand covered his mouth and held him down with unexpected strength. “No yelling now. I just want to talk.”

  Zhang relaxed, realizing his best chance of dealing with this stranger was to get her to relax as well. She removed her hand, enabling him to speak. “My guards?”

  “Sleeping. They’ll have headaches in the morning, but the experience was educational, for them as well as for me, since one of them answered a few questions before he fell asleep. You should not punish them for this lapse. They’ll do you proud in the future, Major, with the wisdom I imparted.”

  Up to this point the major had seen only the woman’s face and hands, apparently floating disembodied. Straining, he could see her outline, clad in a black catsuit. He could also see she was beautiful. He was pretty sure he knew who she had to be. “Ms. Jam?” he croaked.

  “Indeed. The woman you’ve been following so relentlessly. I would very much like to know why.”

  Since the major would very much like to know why himself, the question gave him pause. He sat up in bed, which caused her to flinch, but she allowed it.

  Seeing no reason not to tell her, he began to talk about the headmaster of the addiction camp and his first cousin, the governor of Zhang’s province. Jam slipped a backpack to the ground and removed two old teacups and a new thermos. As he spoke, she served tea.

  Zhang paused to study the teacup. “This must be a thousand years old.”

  Jam chuckled again. “Two thousand.”

  A cup from the Qin dynasty! How did she wind up with it?

  “I’ll leave them here. You should keep them. There will be no one to use them come morning.”

  He set the priceless relic down gingerly. “What happens in the morning?”

  In the darkness her teeth shone brightly in a wide smile. “Fireworks.”

  They talked till they had emptied the teacups, with her telling him a bit about her mission in exchange for his candor about his. Hers was a very noble adventure in a very profitable sort of way if they could really educate these peasants with such efficiency. He felt compelled to offer a warning. “We have a proverb, you know. ‘It takes ten years to grow a tree, but a hundred years to educate a peasant.’”

  She laughed so loud she had to cover her mouth. “I’d like to see you explain that to Lenora,” she commented, leaving him to wonder just who Lenora might be.

  Jam shifted. “I should go. Must I knock you out, tie you up, and gag you?”

  The major considered this. Her undetected presence in his tent suggested she had not asked the question idly. Well, he could reacquire her tomorrow. “You have my word I shall not speak of this until morning.”

  “Ten minutes is all I’ll need.” She rose, then paused at the tent flap. “Do come to Baotong tomorrow, Major. About nine o’clock. It’ll be a sight you’ll want to see so you can tell your grandchildren.” Her face turned serious. “Don’t be early. I wouldn’t want to see you or your men hurt accidentally.” She disappeared into the night.

  He gave her the ten minutes she requested and more, but her insistence that he arrive punctually at nine was too much. He didn’t see how it could hurt to a
rrive an hour or so early.

  11

  Flight of the Black Titan

  Pursue one great decisive aim with force and determination.

  —Carl von Clausewitz

  Rain lashed the windows of the High Flight deck of the Argus. Werner looked across the frothing water at the Heinlein. What had started as a squall had evolved; gale winds whipped everything in sight. They would be lucky if they didn’t end up launching in a veritable tropical depression. Anyone with any sense would postpone the launch.

  But sense seemed to be in short supply among his companions. Ted stood next to him, muttering excitedly. “What an excellent test. Looks like the graphene surface is holding up just fine. That doesn’t prove it will survive re-entry, but I’m optimistic.”

  Werner had to confess, he did not quite like the new rocket as much as the old. The regular Titans, made of titanium with their surfaces stressed to glitter like titanium jewelry, were breathtaking beauties. This one was stark black, a color dictated by Ted’s stealth coating, applied in all haste in the last forty-eight hours.

  Dash was along for the vigil as well, by vidcam from the main BrainTrust archipelago. On the wallscreen adjacent to the window, she nodded. “This storm is just what we need to keep a low profile for the launch. Hopefully, the weather will mask the heat and light signatures of blast-off.”

  Lightning flashed across the sky. An immense wave surged up, but not high enough to affect the isle ships. Werner looked at Dash with immense satisfaction. “I told you the Heinlein would need better stabilizers than normal isle ships, but you didn’t believe me. Remember?”

  Dash gave him a wide grin of acknowledgment. “I stand corrected. Fortunately, I accepted your ridiculous complaint and loaded the ship with gyroscopic stabilizers.”