***
“Spooky! You look different. Taller, I think,” Larry Nightingale said as he entered Spectre’s office with Markis.
“Larry. It’s good to see you.” Spectre stepped out from behind his desk to clasp hands with the enormous black man. “Your son Ellis followed in your footsteps aboard Conquest and was invaluable to us on our mission.”
“Glad to hear it. I’m looking forward to seeing him.”
Spectre shifted to shake Daniel Markis’ hand as well, and then waved the two to seats. “Forgive the minimalist surroundings. The world capital is at a place called Shepparton, Australia. It was the largest city on that continent to survive the Third Holocaust relatively intact. This,” he waved a hand, “will not be as grand, but I hope it will be adequate as a symbol.”
“A symbol of what?” Markis asked.
“Of the revival of Earth.”
“Why not just move everyone to Shepparton or some other place? I heard Vienna survived relatively intact.”
“If that’s what Elise and the research team want.” Spectre looked at Larry. “What are your feelings on the matter?”
“Hm. My gut instinct is to stay, but I don’t think it’s sunk in yet that everything around us is gone. No Johannesburg, no Pretoria…”
“It will be an outpost, now. A new settlement dedicated to biotech. You’ll be employed and funded by the planetary government. Eventually the support services will grow up around you, and with the new city will come civilian investment, business and so on.”
Daniel broke in. “But it won’t be a governmental center. What do you expect my role to be?”
“Let me first address the question of where,” Spectre replied. “I’d like you to accompany me to Shepparton. Suborbital flights can have you back here in two hours for visits, or Elise can come to Australia. Eventually you can return here to stay, if that’s what you decide.”
“Stay and do what, exactly?”
Spectre cleared his throat as if mildly embarrassed. “Take over as Emperor.”
“Emperor!” Markis shot to his feet. “Are you insane?”
“Hardly. I’d crown myself, but I don’t want to keep the job any longer than I must. That’s why I call myself Regent, holding the office in your stead. But our planet, represented right now by EarthFleet, is already an empire of sorts, and for most of the people of Earth, it replaced the Meme Empire. It needs an Emperor.”
“So you want to dump it on me.”
“That’s one way of looking at it.”
“Wait, wait…” Markis held up a hand. “Let’s back up. Why do you even want to ‘crown’ me anything at all? How is a return to a powerful monarchy going to help the human race? You should be organizing some kind of representative government, not a dictatorship!”
Spectre leaned back in his chair and put his booted feet up on his desk. “The people of Earth have lived for fifty years under the thumb of the Meme and their underlings. They’re accustomed to strict authority. The other two major factions, the rebel insurgency and EarthFleet, are also used to a strong hand. Face it, Daniel. Democracy is only a concept anymore. The best we can do is gradually give people more and more say in their affairs as Earth recovers and makes its own way. That’s why I want you: to oversee that transition.”
“When do you envision such a thing?”
“I expect to rule as Regent for a few more months. Then I will announce my abdication and you will take over. Until then, I want you as my right hand, my viceroy, a powerful symbol of the past brought to life. You will gradually assume more and more of the day-to-day affairs of leadership even as you do what you do best – smooth ruffled feathers, make deals that everyone can live with and get humanity and our allies behind us. Afterward, when it’s your throne, you can move toward a constitutional monarchy or call elections for a presidency, whatever you like.”
“Get humanity and our allies behind us for what?” Daniel asked.
“You had the briefings on the last half century, yes? You understand the threat of the Scourge?”
“I think I do. So we’ll be fortifying the Solar System and Gliese 370, and eventually spreading to other star systems.”
Spectre steepled his fingers and tapped his nose with them, glancing over at Larry.
The big man shifted in his seat and said, “Daniel, we can’t simply sit and defend. No fortifications in history ever held forever against repeated assaults. We can’t assume the Scourge will remain technologically stagnant. They’ll see that their expeditions are getting wiped out and they will send more forces. The briefings said that the Meme believe the Scourge conquered tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of systems. They have unlimited resources to throw at us.”
“And what do we humans have?” Spectre prompted.
“Adaptability. Technology from several different highly intelligent races, including true AI.”
“And,” Spectre said, “the warrior spirit of the Ryss, the steadfastness of the Sekoi, the long memories and dispassion of the Meme. All the Scourge has is mass and ferocity. Ours is the superior society – if we have time to expand and grow.”
“That’s exactly what strong defenses will buy us,” Markis said. “Time.”
Spectre nodded. “True as far as it goes. But the old adage that a good offense is the best defense applies. Therefore, once we have defenses in place, we will be going on the attack…and I intend to travel with the fleet.”
“Ah, now the truth comes out,” Markis said with evident disgust. “You want to have your fun while I’m stuck here on Earth again.”
“Like it or not, Daniel, this is what you’re good at. ‘That Others May Live,’ remember?”
“That’s dirty pool, Spooky. Call yourself what you like, but you haven’t changed.”
“Which is precisely why I need you. Do you really wish me in charge for longer than necessary? As human society re-enters its cultural adolescence, whom do you want guiding it? You or me?”
Markis realized how neatly Spectre had trapped him with his own logic. If he refused the offer, the little sneak – not so little anymore, he realized – would find someone else to do it, possibly someone without a long tradition of strict observance to the spirit as well as the letter of constitutional representative government.
The truth was, Spectre was right. Probably, no human being was more qualified than Markis, and his skills were fresh, not atrophied or warped by five decades of struggling under oppression. With a little time to learn the ropes, there was no reason he couldn’t do what Spectre had asked of him. People were people and interest groups only changed their goals, not their methods.
“All right. I agree in principle,” Markis said in a firm voice. “But I’ll want a lot of autonomy and some real power, even before I’m crowned. If you try to make me your lackey it won’t work.”
Spectre stood, holding out his hand to seal the bargain. “Deal. You will speak for me directly. I will make all to understand that your orders are my orders. Of course, I will expect consultation, but there is no man I trust more to be, in essence, my co-ruler.”
Markis clasped the hand of his old…friend? They’d not always been friendly, but some bonds went deeper than compatibility. Spooky had never been someone he felt a great urge to hang out with, save for a few times they shared drinks and reminisced about the old days, but he thought he knew the man as well as anyone could.
That was enough.
***
“How’d it go?” Elise said as Daniel entered their tiny trailer.
“About as expected. He wants me to rule the world.”
“Daniel!” She embraced him. “And of course, you agreed.”
“What could I do? As he told me, do we really want a man like him in charge of Earth forever? Besides, he doesn’t want to do it, and if there’s one thing I’ve found out as Chairman, if someone doesn’t like their job, they’ll suck at it.”
“And you like being Chairman.”
Daniel stepped out of his wife’s
arms and rubbed his jaw. “I guess I do. Once you have the power to do major good in the world, it’s hard to give it up. I was resigned to losing the power when we went into the bunker, but now…”
“Now you’re looking forward to regaining it. I’m glad. You wouldn’t be happy puttering around here.”
“I could have been the lab’s administrator.”
“Then what would Shawna do?”
“Good point.”
“And you’ll have Millie to help you.” Daniel’s administrative assistant, Millicent Johnstone, had been among those in the coldsleep coffins.
“True.”
“How soon do you leave?”
Daniel stared at Elise. “You’re too damn smart for me, aren’t you?”
“Glad you noticed. But it’s not hard to figure out. You can’t work from a construction site, not while learning all you need to.”
“What about you?”
“They’re taking us on a world tour, starting with Vienna. We’ll be meeting with the leading biotech researchers. Okay, we’ll be taking classes from them… Daniel, we’re so far behind. The Blends and Sekoi biotechnicians can do amazing things! It’s breathtaking.” Elise’s eyes shone with the joy of discovery, and Daniel was glad she’d not been discouraged by how much there was to learn.
“Good. And to answer your question, I can leave when I want. Spooky – Spectre, I mean – will be heading to Australia tomorrow on a suborbital transport. He said he’d like me with him, but maybe it’s too soon.”
Elise came back into his arms. “I don’t see any reason to wait. We’ll be enormously busy for the next year or so, and as soon as the basics are finished here we’ll be setting up the new lab. How long have we been married, Daniel?”
“I lost track after our hundredth anniversary.”
“Then you should know by now that I’m okay with you doing your thing and me doing mine.”
“I love it when you go all twentieth-century on me.”
“I’m gonna go all something else on you tonight. After all, according to my calendar, I haven’t gotten laid in fifty years.”
Daniel smiled as he kissed her, and then turned to lock the door. “Why wait?”
“After we shower.”
“Hmm. Shower. That works, too.”
Chapter 4
Command briefings had expanded beyond Absen’s comfortable conference room that held no more than forty. Now he took them into the small auditorium, where at least five hundred could sit on the tiers of seats, and more could cram standing into the aisles. Given the tendency of any organization toward bureaucracy and advancement through visibility, he’d had to set a policy of first-come, first-seated.
Today’s discussion brief was more limited, but attendees had still managed to crowd the place with their presence, probably talking their key aides and flunkies past the Marines. Without stringent and explicit orders, it was hard to get even a Marine, especially one of the new ones recruited since Conquest’s return, to stand up to an officer bending the rules.
As they approached the auditorium from the guarded stage-side entrance, Michelle spoke as if reading his mind. “You know, sir, other than those you’ve mandated to attend, the rest are likely to be sycophants.”
Unwilling to be agreeable to Michelle right now, Absen replied, “Or those most motivated and interested in the situation. A certain amount of ambition is a good thing in any subordinate, don’t you think?”
“Of course, sir. But there are many brilliant personnel who prefer to avoid the scrutiny of command and their peers. They merely wish to do their jobs the best they can.”
“And I trust that you, my other officers and my Blends will work especially hard during your probationary period to identify anyone who is under-recognized or overly ambitious.” With that, Absen entered the room.
COB Timmons bellowed the room to attention with the leather lungs of a longstanding career noncom. Absen waved all present to their seats as he took the podium. Small contingents of Ryss and Sekoi preferred to stand in sections reserved for them.
Absen glanced at the glassed-in tank where Meme could attend if they wished, but today it was empty. A trium of liaisons now lived aboard Conquest in specially designed quarters nearby, though they usually observed the briefings via electronic means. Perhaps they sensed the resentment that still radiated from the three allied races they had oppressed for so long, or perhaps they simply preferred the comfort of their own warm, humid environment.
“Welcome again, allies and comrades-in-arms of EarthFleet. I’ve asked Commander Conquest to put together a review of the state of our defenses. Feel free to ask pertinent questions at any time. Michelle?”
When Absen took his seat, Michelle’s avatar, looking very much like a human being in her uniform, stepped onto the stage and gestured at the large forward holo-screen. A compromise between a 360-degree holotank and a flat panel, this arrangement allowed for three-dimensional displays to a large audience.
“Thank you, Admiral. On our first slide you can see the system’s emplacement of SLAMs.” The Stardrive Lightspeed Attack Missiles were, in essence, small unmanned ships that kamikaze’d themselves against large nonmaneuvering targets. Expensive, finicky and delicate, they were EarthFleet’s first line of defense against the Scourge motherships.
“First, we have twenty-four SLAMs positioned above the Sol’s north pole at fifteen million kilometers distance, the closest to the star they can remain with the shielding available. They are controlled by a rotation of modified frigates, whose sole duty is to watch and to fire them when the Scourge arrive.”
Michelle changed the view. “Next, we have begun installing something new: a constellation of SLAM IIs on fortified asteroids in solar orbit as part of the rebuilt Jericho Line, twenty-two million kilometers out. These have upgraded processors that will allow them to independently identify and semi-autonomously launch themselves at any target that meets the proper parameters.”
A commander in a rather indifferently pressed uniform stood up in the front row and pushed his overlong dark hair off his forehead. “Michelle, how can we be sure they won’t misidentify a target? I’m sure I speak for many here when I say I don’t trust the new pseudo-AIs. Their failure rate is simply too high.”
Michelle nodded equitably. “Commander Johnstone is correct to ask this question. In fact, Admiral Absen has been talking to the cybernetics team about them quite recently.”
Absen raised an eyebrow as Michelle’s avatar turned to look at him with a bland smile before going on. “Pseudo-AI is a step on the road to reproducing full AIs like myself. My father Desolator and his kin have the expertise to do it, but we don’t, yet. That was a purposeful decision on his part, and I’ve come to agree with it. New, full AIs will only be birthed when the cybernetics team has proceeded through the natural process of development.”
“That doesn’t really answer the question I asked,” Johnstone said.
“I’m getting to that. The answer is, all levels of control will remain in organic hands. A SLAM II must first receive the sixteen-minute FTL emergence warning created by the wormhole wave front disturbance. The organic command agency must then positively confirm that phenomenon’s existence. When the SLAM II identifies and nominates targets, the command agency must also confirm each target’s suitability for engagement.”
“But the system can be set on full auto.”
Michelle grasped the edges of the podium. “If the organic agency chooses, it can give the SLAM II full autonomy. Likewise, if all command personnel are dead, the SLAM II will engage on its own.”
“If it believed all command personnel were dead, you mean. How hard is it to convince a machine of that? You do know that one SLAM could be devastating if fired at the wrong target. Say, Earth?”
“That simply can’t happen.”
“If I can imagine a scenario and postulate a way to bypass the safeguards,” Johnstone said, “others can too. In fact –”
“Rick,” Ab
sen interrupted. “Thanks for your concern on this issue, but this isn’t the proper forum for it. Put together a point paper and send it to me. We’ll see if protocols need to be tightened up. Maybe you can form a red team to attempt to hack the system.”
“Already did that, sir, or I wouldn’t be raising the issue.”
“You hacked a SLAM II?”
“Not an operational one, sir. Just a brain on the production line. But no one caught me.”
Absen looked over at Michelle’s android. Apparently she’d given it more sophisticated biofeedback display than he’d thought, for it blushed to the roots with apparent embarrassment. “It seems to be the day for my officers coloring outside the lines,” he said with deceptive mildness.
“Sorry, sir. I raised the issue through channels, but the problem never got the attention I thought it deserved.”
“Please try harder next time, Commander. And Michelle, track down where Johnstone’s reports got stuck and let me know, all right?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
“Thank you, sir,” Johnstone said and sat down.
Michelle made a throat-clearing noise. “At the moment we have six SLAM IIs emplaced and more coming online at a rate of about one a week. They are intended to complement and back up the SLAM Mark Ones, and eventually replace them. They are more accurate, more reliable and easier to maintain.”
“What about double targeting?” came a voice from the audience.
“That’s an inevitable risk of the lightspeed delay in information. With sophisticated algorithms, the development team hopes to split the difference between over-engagement and non-engagement, the goal being of course to destroy each target with one and only one weapon.”
“Remember, people,” Absen spoke up, “the SLAMs are the first line of defense. It would be great if we could wipe out all the motherships with one salvo, but that’s not likely. Some always miss, and even if the Scourge didn’t get a message drone off, the fact that their first expedition to our system vanished tells them we’re dangerous. We have to assume they’ll come back heavily reinforced, perhaps with new kinds of ships or weapons. SLAMs are silver bullets, but silver is expensive and we only have so much of it. Go on, Michelle.”
Conquest and Empire (Stellar Conquest Series Book 5) Page 4