The Braintrust: A Harmony of Enemies

by Marc Stiegler

  The plug at the bottom of the vessel, which had started melting earlier, now dissolved completely away and the core started flowing out of the vessel. The flowing liquid joined the drips from the cracks as they fell onto a bed of boron sand, which absorbed the neutrons like a hungry frog catching mosquitoes. All nuclear chain reactions ceased, and the reactor started cooling irrevocably.

  The vibrations from the explosion had damaged the sensors that watched for catastrophic failures. The clamps that held the pylon to the ship blew away, and the pylon sank rapidly into the darkening depths of the sea. Several small plugged holes popped open under the increasing pressure of the depth. Water flowed in, eliminating any pressure differential between the exterior and the interior of the pylon. Consequently, the pylon was not crushed by the water pressure as the depth increased.

  The pylon continued to sink till it hit the ocean floor, where it caused an enormous splash of slow-moving mud. Inside, the lithium fluoride cooled enough to start to solidify. The pylon settled into a quiet state of equilibrium.

  The radiation level around the pylon rose slightly. The sparse plant life at the bottom of the dark sea bloomed just a little in the enhanced radiation. In the next five years, a mutated form of diatom evolved, which thrived in the radiation. It flourished as long as it did not drift too far from the warm radiation of the pylon. The diatoms that drifted too far died and sank to the bottom of the sea.

  ***

  The passages of the GSDC were as silent and gray and empty as the ones in the GPlex III and the Warenhaus, but Lieutenant Boehm really disliked one change in the layout of this ship. For whatever reason, the passages and the promenade they were entering were two decks high. The catwalk around the edge of the second deck would give a team of ambushers a magnificent field of fire.

  The voices behind them sounded more distant. Bruce stumbled, then sagged. “I need a moment,” he said.

  Boehm led him into the shallow alcove next to one of the locked doors.

  Bruce cursed. “Lieutenant, look at the door.”

  Boehm looked at the door. Very solid, like the doors they’d seen on the GPlex III, and indeed just like the doors on every ship they’d passed through. Except…he put his hand out to touch it. It was not as cold as the other doors, as if it weren’t made of cold steel, but rather something warmer. Not plastic, but pottery, a ceramic of some type. Now it was the lieutenant’s turn to curse. “Chobham armor? Are you kidding me?”

  “No, sir. These doors—and the walls too, I think—are armored like our heaviest battle tanks. If we’d needed to breach the door for some reason, our whole team wouldn’t have had enough explosives to get through.” Bruce paused. “Why would they do this? It’d be ungodly expensive. They didn’t even do this on the GPlex server ship, and that ship contained billions of dollars’ worth of GPlex secrets.”

  Boehm pursed his lips. “It’s the money.”

  “Sir?”

  “The GSDC is packed with financial servers. This is one of the most important financial centers in the world. It’s almost the only place where unfettered deregulated exchanges can still take place.” Boehm took a breath. “There are trillions of dollars’ worth of transactions going through here, Sergeant. Trillions. The GPlex III we just ran through is a mom-and-pop operation compared to this.”

  Bruce closed his eyes. “What are the chances, sir, that this empty place that’s worth trillions only has strong passive defenses? Wouldn’t they put in more, ah, aggressive countermeasures as well?”

  Boehm pulled Bruce’s arm across his own shoulders and moved out. “Time to go. Go go go!”

  They entered the promenade and turned left. They were so close to the water; if they could just make it to the gangway that opened on the empty ocean! They ran. In moments they could see the open gangway. Boehm could even see a high-dive platform some lunatic had put there.

  But it was not meant to be. Boehm was not surprised when, for the second time that night, a deafening staccato of gunfire sounded from just about everywhere. Bullets flew, ricocheting back and forth off the bulkheads, sizzling all around them. As they crouched, Boehm saw a neat circle of spent bullets, massively deformed from their complex flight around the deck, lying around them.

  Oh, dear God. The intel guys had briefed them on rumors that the BrainTrust had developed a new generation of rifles just for shipboard action. The new rifles had scopes integrated with the ship’s vidcams. They analyzed the area in 3D and computed all the ricochets, all the places and things the bullets would strike, and where they would land. Boehm, like every sensible person in the briefing, had discounted the idea. Those calculations were just too difficult; the data had to be too precise. It simply wasn’t possible—but here was the proof. A neat circle of lead, with nary a one striking the two people in the middle of the circle.

  He looked up to try to spot the shooters, but of course the shooters didn’t have to stick their heads up to aim. They could just bounce the bullets, based on the ship’s vidcams, off the ceiling. Boehm had no targets.

  Then a head popped up on the overhead catwalk. The man revealed himself, standing tall. He carried a clunky-looking weapon and wore a charcoal gray pinstripe suit with a rich yellow power tie. “The Goldman Sachs Gun Club welcomes you, and offers you the chance to surrender.” His face beamed. “Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker.”

  Rick Boehm was about to be killed or captured by a goddam financial tycoon wearing a three-piece suit and spouting quotes from his father’s favorite movie. This would become the new definition of “clusterfuck.” He put down his rifle and clasped his hands behind his head. Then he picked up where he had left off on the dock, cursing this assignment.

  ***

  Dash, along with everyone else in the Omega conference room, watched as the Goldman Sachs Gun Club took the Seals prisoner. Colin remarked, “Not what I would have expected, but certainly within acceptable parameters. Amanda, as soon as they have the Seals off the GSDC, you can probably terminate the Condition Red.”

  Amanda looked apoplectic. “Thank you for stating the obvious.” She looked around her CIC, then turned back to Colin with rage in her eyes. “We’re done here. Get out of my sight.” All the Omega screens driven by CIC feeds went blank.

  Colin turned to the others. “That’s a wrap,” he said cheerfully. “Please return to your previously scheduled programming.”

  Dash stood up. “That was…interesting. Can we avoid this kind of excitement in the future?”

  Colin held his hands out placatingly. “I do apologize, but I am hopeful that as we spread the word of what happened here tonight to the various parties that should have helped prevent this, they’ll be embarrassed enough to do better in the future.”

  Jam looked at Colin thoughtfully. “Who were all those people?”

  “I think we’ll find, when the dust settles, that one group were Green eco-terrorists intent on turning the BrainTrust into a radioactive wasteland, and the other was a Red anti-abortion group planning to destroy the clinic next to your lab.”

  Dash said, “That is all good. It is hard to feel much sympathy for the people who were turned into, uh, burnt dulse bits. But what about the others? The ones dressed as peacekeepers?”

  Colin’s eyes clouded over. He spoke softly. “Dash, they were here for you.”

  Dash’s eyes widened. “For me?”

  “The Chief Advisor planned to kidnap you to rejuvenate the President-for-Life. It was their only chance to continue to hold power.”

  Dash looked at him in disbelief. “That is crazy!”

  Jam commented, “That does not make him wrong.”

  Byron spoke in a voice harder than any she had ever heard from him. “It’s not crazy at all. We’ve talked about this, Dash. Your rejuvenation therapy is the most terrible weapon ever unleashed on humankind. The President-for-Life can stay president forever, and the Chief Advisor can rule without end. The Blues will never be able to gain control and fix our country. We’ll never be free if you com
plete your research.” His eyes glittered with tears he refused to shed. “Which is why—” He pulled a gun from behind his back and started to fire.

  Bang. Dash staggered back from a bullet to her abdomen. Colin leaped in front of her.

  Bang. A bullet caught Colin in the chest. Jam ran to him.

  Bang bang. As Jam pushed Colin and Dash to the ground, two bullets hit her in the back. Ping flipped over the conference table and spun in front of Byron. The baton in her right hand slammed into his gun and sent it flying, and the knife in her left sliced backward across his neck to send blood spurting all over the table. She completed her spin by bouncing her back and her head against the far wall as Byron fell to the deck.

  Dash was lying on her back, half-buried under Colin and Jam. She looked under the table at Byron’s fallen body. Grievously wounded she might be, but she still had a surgeon’s eye and made a surgeon’s assessment. “I can save him,” she croaked.

  Ping shook her head to clear it and jumped forward to plunge the knife into Byron’s heart. Blood gushed out to cover half her face.

  Dash glared at Ping, then her eyes rolled up and she passed out.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Harmony in Balance

  Problems cannot be solved at the same level of awareness that created them.

  Albert Einstein

  Sitting in his tiny cell in the tiny brig, Jamal had felt and heard the vibrations of a powerful explosion. It had been followed by a series of smaller vibrations, like a string of firecrackers. Then, somewhat later, there had been another boom and more shaking.

  He’d had no idea how dangerous living on the BrainTrust could be. His brother had been beaten and scarred by a prostitute, his best friend had been mutilated by a young girl, and now the whole ship was under attack. Multiple attacks.

  His dark mood lightened. Given all the violence, it seemed a real possibility that his ex-wife would get killed in the fighting. Or, as an alternative, he as an innocent bystander would get killed as collateral damage of one battle or another.

  That would not be a bad outcome. He might still get into Heaven, and he would not have to explain what had happened when he got home.

  ***

  Joshua sat behind his desk wondering if perhaps he could arrange to swap ship jurisdictions with another mediator for a few months. Surely the wealth of too-interesting cases he was experiencing should be shared. Perhaps Mediator Chibuzo would be interested.

  He cleared his throat. “The days may change, but the members of the cast remain the same.” He started from left to right. “Amanda. Ms. Jam. Ms. Jam, we are so well acquainted I shall take you up on your earlier offer to just call you Jam.”

  Jam looked a little too stiff to him. “Jam, are you all right?”

  Her whole body tensed as she answered very slowly. “Yes, sir. Just…a few…bruises, sir.”

  Amanda glared at her. “And two fractured ribs, let’s not forget. She took two bullets, fortunately stopped by her vest. Still, she belongs in bed in her cabin.”

  “As soon as…the mediator…no longer needs…me.”

  Joshua spoke softly. “I’ve read your report, Jam. Well written, by the way. I think we can dispense with your presence.”

  Jam shook her head slightly. “Defend…Ping.”

  Joshua rolled his eyes. “All right. Let us move along.” He looked to the right. “Justin Reed. Lieutenant Boehm. And of course, Ping.” Of course, always Ping. He turned to Amanda. “There have been a shocking number of deaths this time, Amanda. Doesn’t Colin want to be here for this one?”

  Amanda stiffly answered, “He’s in the hospital. Just coming off a ventilator. A bad bullet wound. He’s lucky to be alive.”

  “Oh. I’m very sorry. Please give him my condolences.” Seeing the rage in her eyes, he amended this. “Or at least as much condolence as you deem appropriate, given your estimate of how much he had to do with this situation.”

  Amanda snorted.

  Joshua turned his attention to Justin, whose face was burnt, cracked, and puffy. “Mr. Reed. If this were an American court you would be charged with terrorism with a weapon of mass destruction. Amusing, is it not, that when you sabotage a nuclear reactor with a backpack bomb, American jurisprudence claims the backpack bomb is a WMD? But I digress. As a mediator, I am not empowered to assess such a case, so you are merely charged with sabotage of a ship of the BrainTrust.” He frowned. “Ideally I would charge you the cost of the damage, but the damage is so immense you could not cover even a tiny fraction of it.”

  Justin eyed him, then asked, “How many people have died? How many more will die in the future?” He licked his severely chapped lips. “How big is the zone of radiation poisoning?” He licked his lips again, apparently to no effect. “I know we’re in the middle of a hot zone, because I felt the ship start to move away earlier. You’re trying to escape, aren’t you? Is the reef dying?” He smiled happily.

  Joshua wondered if Justin might get off on an insanity plea when he went dirtside. “You are hereby remanded to the custody of the FBI in the United States.” Joshua looked over at Amanda. “I know you were unhappy about sending Jam’s husband back to Pakistan, but this is quite different. The Reds would just execute him. The Blues would lock him up forever. Even the Greens would put him away for half his life.”

  Amanda shrugged. “I think that will be fine, Joshua.”

  “Take him away.” After Justin was gone, Joshua decided to ask Amanda a question that he supposed was inappropriate to the proceedings. The answer would probably be healthy for the mental states of everyone in the room, however. “Is there any truth in what Justin just said? I felt us start to move too. Are we in the middle of a radiation cloud?”

  “No, not at all. The failsafes worked as expected.” She hesitated. “They worked so well, in fact, that they’ve become part of our rollout marketing campaign for the mass production and sale of small cheap safe nuclear reactors around the globe. Think about it. Our molten salt reactor didn’t just shut down safely during a terrorist attack, it shut down safely after the terrorist had achieved complete success in sabotaging it. It’s like Rhett has been saying for years: they’re not only safer than coal plants and methane storage tanks, they’re safer than solar cell production.” She sighed. “Dash has been explaining that to me as well.”

  Joshua had another question, but was painfully aware of Lieutenant Boehm’s watchful presence. He waved Amanda over for a short sidebar, and peered at her suspiciously. “So everything worked out fine. Why aren’t you happy about it?” he whispered.

  Amanda let her gaze drift away. “The safety story with the sabotage is so compelling, it’s made our rollout a huge success. We already have enough advance orders booked to pay for replacing the lost reactor.” She whispered wonderingly, “Did Colin plan it? Even the loss of the reactor?”

  Joshua stared at her. “Are you going to ask him?”

  She shook her head. “If he did, I don’t want to know.” She closed her eyes. “Surely he did not. How could he? No, it’s not possible.” She opened her eyes. “It’s not.”

  Joshua was glad that was unambiguously cleared up. “So if we actually tried to get damages from Justin, his advocate could reasonably argue that there were no damages since he supplied such excellent advertising that the injured parties have already received more than ample compensation. It would be an interesting case. I’m glad to dispense with it.” He waved her back and addressed the room once more. “Let us move on and consider the fate of Lieutenant Boehm. Lieutenant?”

  Lieutenant Boehm stood stiffly. “Yes, sir.”

  “First, let me tell you that all your people are still alive and recovering from their wounds as well as one could hope. I’ll let you see them when these proceedings are over.” After giving the lieutenant a moment to process this good news, Joshua continued. “Since you invaded the BrainTrust without signing a mediation agreement, I technically have no standing to mediate or render a verdict. But I can make a recommendati
on to the Board. You’re guilty of state-sponsored piracy on the high seas. The Board may decide, for sufficient benefits, to send you home. Or to make a point, they may send you to the World Court, or any of the many countries I’d expect would be happy to try you on these charges.”

  Amanda interjected, “Indeed, a number of them have already shown up to offer support.” She used her phone to control the main side screen and brought up the view to the southeast of the BrainTrust. The American cruiser that had been stationed there for several months, shadowed by a pair of tiny California Coastal Patrol ships, now had beefier company. A Russian cruiser paced the American. The two California ships each had a Chinese frigate as a friendly companion sharing their patrol duties. “As you can see, the balance of firepower has tipped for the moment. The French are even sending their aircraft carrier for a visit. And the Brits.” Amanda paused, relishing her next words. “A British submarine surfaced and docked with the Chiron for an afternoon. They sent the Board its compliments, gave a few tours, and submerged again.”

  “Do you think they’ll hang around?”

  Amanda shrugged. “Who knows? If you were the Chief Advisor, what would you guess?”

  Joshua laughed. “Very nice.” He looked at Boehm. “Lieutenant, you are remanded into the custody of the BrainTrust until the Board decides what to do. Guards, please take him to see his people, then return him to the brig.”

  After the Lieutenant had departed, he turned to the next case. “Ms. Ping,” he said sternly.

  Ping came to attention, more or less. “Yes, sir!” she chirped.

  “You killed a resident.”

  “Yes, sir! Defense of Ship, sir!”

  “With an unauthorized lethal weapon.”

  Ping looked a little sheepish. “It was an accident.”