The Unincorporated Woman

by Dani Kollin; Eytan Kollin

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because you asked.”

  “No, I mean why divulge this to me? Your Council Leader said he needed my help, but I can’t begin to imagine why.”

  Seconds passed before Dante replied. “We avatars are in the midst of a great civil war, and humans possess a remarkable ability to see what we cannot.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Our blind spots.”

  Avatar Council Chamber, Cerean Neuro

  “I’m curious,” said Marcus, “why didn’t you kill her when she left the President’s office, as you’d originally planned?” The gruff Council member did not direct his question to rest of the group, but to Sebastian and Sandra O’Toole.

  “I asked them not to,” admitted Dante, ignoring the slight.

  “It seemed a great risk,” said Gwendolyn. “What was to stop the commodore from telling her precious Admiral Black our secret? It would’ve been harder to kill her the farther away she got from the Triangle Office.”

  Dante shook his head. “Not really. I had a means of ending her life if it was needed. But I hoped it would not be.”

  Lucinda shot Dante an appraising look. “You seem particularly interested in this human, Dante.”

  The Council nodded their heads in unison. Even the human, noted Dante, joined in.

  “She’s ideally suited for the task at hand. If we’re to begin forming human–avatar combat teams to infiltrate Al’s Neuro space, we need this one alive.”

  “But how to keep her from informing the admiral?” asked Sandra. “You may have eyes and ears in places we can’t get to, but you don’t have, can’t have complete coverage. Sooner or later, she’ll get word out. It may be better to assume that she’ll eventually tell the admiral, and if that’s the case, so perhaps should we.”

  “She was never going to make that call,” insisted Dante. “For fear it would be intercepted. And I was able to talk with her and convince her not to tell anyone. She agreed, but only on one condition.”

  “Yes?” asked Marcus.

  “That she come for a visit.”

  Sandra nodded, impressed.

  “We talked for quite a while. She’s quite remarkable for a human.”

  “In what way?” asked Sebastian.

  “In the way she both embraced and rejected that which she most desired. I simply had to convince her that what she rejected is not what we exist in.”

  Lucinda narrowed her brow. “And how did you manage that?”

  “I haven’t yet, but I’m working on it.”

  “Then she’s still a danger to our plans,” proffered Sebastian.

  “Not an immediate one, sir. The commodore’s overriding goal is to win the war. Once she calmed down, she realized that revealing our secret, even to Admiral Black, could not immediately help to that end. Once the commodore is convinced that we avatars can help the Alliance win, she will support our plans.”

  “How did you get her to agree to come to our world?” asked Gwendolyn. “I would’ve thought she’d be more resistant to the idea.”

  “Humans never really experienced virtual reality. What they created and are so terribly afraid of is virtual fantasy.” He then fixed his eyes on Sandra. “I must admit you humans did a good job of it. Virtual fantasy came quite close to destroying your race. But it was by no means reality. It is we,” Dante said, spreading his arms wide, “who live in virtual reality. We have war and suffering and death. We have stupidity, and now we’ve even managed to have deprivation. How in the name of the Firstborn do virtual beings suffer deprivation?”

  “Let me count the ways,” lamented Sebastian to warm cackles.

  “And that was what convinced her?” asked Sandra.

  “Not quite.”

  “So when did she become more interested and less afraid?”

  “When I told her it was a world full of pain.”

  15 The Puppet Has No Strings

  Singh Thoroughfare, Ceres

  The President of the Alliance has called for a prayer service to be held in the hangar of Alliance One. However, the number of people wishing to attend soon swamped the available seating by several magnitudes, and the President has agreed to hold the service in the Singh Thoroughfare at Jupiter Park. All the President said was that it was time to remember. Her call was promptly seconded by all major religious groups in the Alliance. It has been announced that the service will be broadcast to all major civilian and military centers.

  Alliance Daily Star

  And so it came to pass after the long battle in which the Children of the Stars were denied victory by the judgment of God, that weariness filled the hearts of the Children. Their suffering was great, their loss was great, and their confusion was great. And so the Anointed Woman, she who was born in freedom, rose up and was seen by all the Children and heard by all the Children, and she spoke words of comfort to the Children. She reminded all the Children of the price the Holy One had required of her. She reminded the Children that she had paid it, and from her the Children remembered how to fulfill that most important need when suffering visits every home. And so didst she call out the name of the Unincorporated Man, Justin Cord. And too on that day the harbinger of war, known as the Blessed One, was beckoned by the Holy One and so didst call out the name of her martyred lover, as didst the Blessed One’s loyal sword bearer, Omad, call out the name of his martyred beloved. And so it was for many days and nights that the Children didst gather and each didst call out the names of those who’d gone on and in doing so remembered how to grieve. And their grief was great. And from their grief came comfort and strength to continue on the path the Holy One, the Unincorporated Man, had set for them.

  Astral Testament

  Book III, 4:12–14

  At first J.D. had been miffed at the publicity stunt’s colossal waste of her time—notwithstanding the fact that Marilynn had given her no advance warning. Didn’t these people know J.D. had a war to win? Wasn’t that the whole purpose of having a figurehead President? Though all the answers were yes, she, as well as the rest of the high command who found themselves on Ceres after the Long Battle, became an unwitting patsy for yet another of the President’s impromptu kumbaya gatherings. It had been explained to J.D. that the people found solace in Sandra’s myriad events and that J.D.’s presence, along with the host of other dignitaries, would help strengthen morale.

  In the end, J.D. had been forced to agree. As she watched the swelling crowd and, more important, the interactions of those on the dais around her, she thanked her lucky stars she had. Because it was only now that she saw the president for what she really was. Forget the annoyingly media-savvy figurehead J.D. had foisted into power and on some level still blamed for Justin’s death. No, this was a different creature altogether—strangely familiar, even. Sandra O’Toole was a political player in much the same mold as those J. D. Black had come up against in her turbulent reign as Janet Delgado, VP of legal for GCI—only Sandra, decided J.D. then and there, was more dangerous because no one ever saw her coming.

  J.D. remembered a report from Marilynn saying that it looked as if the President had been co-opting the Relocation Secretary, but J.D. also remembered reading reports from other sources stating that it had actually been the Jewish priest named Rabbi who was using Sandra O’Toole. J.D. had received those reports in the early days of the Long Battle and so had completely forgotten about them in the constant grind that those three weeks of hell had been. Besides, it seemed that for all intents and purposes, Rabbi was doing a bang-up job of arranging for the relocation of hundreds of millions of people in their self-contained settlements, thereby relieving J.D. of yet another headache. She’d assumed that Rabbi, like her, must have had hidden talents. After all, who could’ve known that she, a former lawyer from Earth, would end up being so skilled a warrior?

  But even in the first few minutes J.D. had been sitting on the dais, she could now see how Rabbi had looked at Sandra O’Toole, and it quickly became ob
vious who was dependent on whom. It was also clear that Hildegard Rhunsfeld, the Technology Secretary, did not consider the President a figurehead either, according Sandra all the respect due her office.

  O’Toole’s only been in office for months. In the name of Allah, what will she be like in a year? J.D. had been only slightly reassured to see that both Mosh and Kirk still treated Sandra with indifference. The truth was, J.D. had contempt for both her former GCI board members but was still somewhat baffled that they’d failed to see the viper in their nest. She looked carefully as to how her boss, Admiral Sinclair, reacted to the President and was relieved to see that he’d saluted with the exact amount of formality required and then respectfully left the President to rejoin a discussion he was having with some members of his general staff. Whatever spell this President was capable of weaving, J.D.’s boss seemed immune. But he also seemed immune to the effect she was having on the Cabinet.

  Padamir Singh was not present, but if Sandra O’Toole could count on Rabbi and Hildegard, she would need only one more Cabinet member to start dictating policy. Not that she would be so forward about it. She’d have her allies propose it and get it passed from the shadows. That’s how the game was played. Gather your power slowly until one day everyone realizes that you’re in charge. J.D.’s face went ashen as another more portent thought surfaced. By the Prophet, that’s how the Chairman took over GCI. Her thoughts were quickly drowned out by the raucous cheering that broke out as Sandra O’Toole, President of the Alliance, stood up and began to speak.

  AWS Lincoln, Gedretar Shipworks, Ceres

  J. D. Black waited in the unfamiliar captain’s quarters of the AWS Lincoln. The ship had been in dry dock, undergoing repairs for damage sustained in the Long Battle, and so had only a skeleton crew to man her. Fleet Intelligence was ruthless in making sure that no surprises were added to a ship in repair, which meant that the AWS Lincoln made an ideal locale for conversations best kept dark. And unlike Alliance security, which reported directly to Kirk Olmstead, Fleet Intelligence reported to Admiral Sinclair and therefore bore fanatic loyalty to Admiral Black.

  As J.D. waited for her guests to arrive, she thought back to Jupiter Park. The naming of the dead had been going on for four days now and showed no sign of abating. A person or persons would ascend the short ramp and stand where the President had stood and given her speech a few days earlier. Some would pause, some would cry, but everyone had a name to honor. Then they’d point to someone else in the crowd and exit the dais on the side opposite the one they’d entered. Every minute of every hour of every day, it had continued. An order had finally been given to seal the park, allowing people out but not in. There had been some grumbling, but everyone understood. Life had to continue. The war effort had to continue.

  It was the sheer power of the … the—J.D. wasn’t sure what to call it, event? ceremony? happening?—that she found so compelling and terrifying. Allah was in that park. As J.D. was living and breathing, Allah was beside her when, overwhelmed, she’d called out Manny’s name, and he was there when Omad had called out Christina’s. J.D. believed that the Almighty was standing beside every person who rose up to that platform and cried out the names of their martyred. And now she was afraid. Afraid of the woman she’d placed into power and of the woman whose fate she would now have to decide—if it wasn’t too late already.

  A dulcet voice signaled the arrival of J.D.’s guests. Marilynn Nitelowsen and Eleanor McKenzie entered, both bearing the look of utter exhaustion.

  “Well, this has got to be good,” gushed Eleanor, making herself comfortable in the nearest available seat. “Why else call a member of the Intelligence Committee and your liaison to the President into a dry dock security setting?”

  Marilynn continued to stand at attention until invited to sit by her commanding officer.

  “I assure you,” averred J.D. as both she and Marilynn sat down, “it is.”

  Eleanor leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. Her raised left brow was the only indication of her impatience.

  “I think I may have to kill the President,” blurted J.D., proving once again that very few were better than she at getting straight to the point. Both Marilynn and Eleanor remained mute if not a little slack jawed.

  “Because she gave a good speech?” Eleanor finally managed, sarcastically. “Justin gave them all the time, and I don’t ever recall you wanting to kill him.”

  “Justin was not a threat to the Alliance.”

  “And O’Toole is?” challenged Eleanor, practically laughing as she did.

  Marilynn’s only response had been to lean forward, placing her now clasped hands on her crossed knees. Her look, however, was anything but humorous.

  J.D.’s face remained implacable. “My god, Eleanor, she’s been President for barely two months. Two months, and she’s already got a real power base in the Cabinet. Even my fleet liaison—” J.D. shot Marilynn a cold look. “—is falling under her spell.”

  If Marilynn felt anything from the slight, she kept it to herself, though the knuckles on her clasped hands did appear a shade whiter.

  “And the common people of the Alliance,” declared J.D., “well, they practically worship the air she floats in.”

  “Please get to your point,” insisted Eleanor.

  J.D.’s eyes glowered. A brief exhalation of air escaped her nose, as if she were a bull readying to charge. “I have not fought this war to keep Hektor Sambianco and his ilk out only to have them replaced by a woman with the political acumen of the Chairman, the oratorical skills of the Unincorporated Man, and the seeming intentions of a megalomaniac!”

  Eleanor nodded as a cruel smile formed at the corners of her upturned lips. “You’ve really become quite the spoiled brat, haven’t you, Janet?”

  “How dare you,” seethed J.D.

  Eleanor remained unfazed by the admiral’s infamous glower. “Two months ago, you were up in arms about being forced to assume political control of the Alliance. You said, with great conviction I might add, that it would be impossible for you to win the war from behind a desk. That you had to be with the fleet if we were to have any chance of victory. How am I doing so far?”

  J.D.’s nonanswer was answer enough.

  “Now, I don’t really believe in your god,” admitted Eleanor, “or an afterlife, but I know that you do. And I suspect that our President is more like me, even if she does publicly uphold her faith, so I find it rather remarkable that you cannot see this situation in terms that you’d find appealing.”

  “What could possibly be appealing about a tyrant?”

  “You needed someone to run the political aspect of the war so that you could run, unimpeded, its military aspect, and you needed that someone fast. You were days, even hours from being forced into the Presidency. And then—”

  “And then a miracle,” said Marilynn, finding her voice. She lifted her head slightly to meet J.D.’s troubled eyes. “Admiral, I’m sorry if you’ve felt my loyalties have been divided. I will tender my resignation if you desire and return to the fleet as a bottom-rank spacer, but first I will be heard.”

  J.D. tipped her head slightly forward.

  “Congresswoman McKenzie is right. The President is the miracle you asked for.”

  “Sent by God, then?” J.D. asked with obvious derision.

  “Perhaps. Let’s look at the facts: Right about the time you were being tasked with an impossible job—prosecuting the war and being pressured to run the government—you take a long shot and release a woman, practically gift-wrapped for you, from a nearly three-hundred-year suspension. In a matter of weeks, this woman, who’s just inherited a fledgling governmental organization at war and in abject disarray, begins to run it, or at least her part of it, effortlessly. Now, be honest, Admiral. When was the last time you really thought about the political or civilian side of this struggle?”

  “That’s not a fair assessment, Marilynn. I haven’t thought about anything except fighting the Long Battle.”
/>   “Bullshit,” decried Eleanor. “If things were falling apart back here, you wouldn’t have had a choice. You would’ve had to pay attention. And let’s be clear as to what’s been happening.” Eleanor started counting off points on her fingers. “One, we have a brand-new President in the middle of a crisis. Two, we’ve lost the asteroid belt. Three, we’re—” Eleanor paused for reflection— “Sandra’s also helping manage the Diaspora. And just in case you forgot, that is tens of thousands of settlements and hundreds of millions of people all fleeing the Belt at once. Four, we’ve created a brand-new Cabinet and had a constitutional crisis when the geniuses in that Cabinet forgot that six positions in a group charged with voting to approve measures doesn’t exactly work when you’ve got an evenly divided argument. And don’t think I haven’t lorded that brilliant snafu over Mosh at every possible opportunity.” Eleanor now grew more serious. “Janet, did you have to deal with any of this, really?”

  J.D. reluctantly shook her head.

  “Marilynn didn’t report any of these problems to you, because they were not your problems anymore. You got what you most desperately needed. And what’s your response? Typical military: you want to kill it.”

  Marilynn shot to J.D.’s defense. “That’s out of line, Congresswoman.”

  “No,” cut in J.D., her tone far less strident, “Eleanor’s right. That was my reaction. I underestimated the President. I underestimated her as badly as I have ever underestimated anyone. And because of that, this woman, this veritable stranger, may very well end up running the Alliance.”

  “Admiral,” said Marilynn, “if I honestly thought the President was a threat to the Alliance, I’d shoot her myself.”

  “It may come to that, Marilynn,” suggested J.D. “We don’t even know what her real motives are.”