by M. D. Cooper
Everyone wanted something, even if it was just a glass of water. Desire was the fundamental human failing that drove all action.
Ngoba knew he wanted to protect his home, his people, the empire he had built and planned to expand. This man and his people had crept in without his knowledge to threaten what Ngoba valued.
Knowing this made Ngoba angry beyond all reason, but he had to control himself. He had asked Crash to accompany him on this initial visit, because Ngoba knew he might lose control and kill this man with his bare hands, and that would make Charles Osla more powerful and uncontrollable than he had ever been.
To assuage himself, Ngoba clenched his hands into fists and visualized beating Charles Osla deliberately, carefully, and with precision, from his abdomen to his face and back down, until bright red blood leaked from the corners of his mouth, and his eyes went glassy.
The informant’s information had proved more true than false. Ngoba’s captains had identified twenty-three Andersonian chapters throughout Cruithne, clustered by trade and section, and each fed information and funding back to a head. If Fugia was correct in her belief that ‘Kamelon’ was one of Camaris’s shards, then that meant Osla was either in league with the Psion AIs, or a useful idiot.
Maybe both.
The guard shut the door behind Ngoba, and the lock cycled closed.
he told the parrot.
Ngoba nodded to himself. The parrot’s good heart was almost enough to calm his anger.
Osla hadn’t looked at him yet. Ngoba walked to a nearby desk and leaned against its edge, keeping a few meters’ space from the other man. If Osla surprised him and wanted to fight, there would be time for Crash to get away, and Ngoba to respond.
He worked to calm his thoughts, pushing out the violent fantasies. There was a bigger game at play here, and he needed to decide how the Lowspin Syndicate and Cruithne Station might participate, if they hadn’t already been dragged in.
“I’ve identified your sleeper cells on my station,” Ngoba said. “We have their names, their family’s names. We have them under surveillance, and will be identifying your people on off-station locations who communicate with them. That information can be shared with governments as necessary. Not that SolGov needs further proof, after Luna and elsewhere, but you’ve fomented violent political action in a peaceful place. That won’t go without consequences.”
Osla nodded to show he was listening. He uncrossed his arms and tapped the sides of his chair. When he glanced up at Ngoba, he didn’t look overly concerned about the situation. If anything, he appeared bored.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Starl. But if the Collective is acting on my behalf for the betterment of humankind during these trying times, then I’m in support. I can neither claim specific knowledge or pretend that I’m in control. I am a political prisoner of SolGov, removed from my leadership position. I have directed none of these attacks, but I also can’t make them stop.” He shrugged. “You could send me back to Luna. Then I could do something about the situation.”
Ngoba studied the man. His anger rose, and then dropped abruptly. Osla was bluffing—but also telling the truth. He had most likely designed every plan currently in execution. Now, however, all he could do was watch them play out. His removal from the game had probably been part of his plan from the start. How else would a commander who had experienced the destruction of Insi Ring at Ceres plan? Anyone could die at any moment, so the Collective must persist until new leadership arose.
But Ngoba also had the sense that Osla was a narcissist, a man who would want all of Sol to know it was his plan that had created the Andersonian uprising. At heart, Charles Osla was the leader of a gang, just like Ngoba.
“Why are you smiling at me?” Osla asked, looking uncomfortable for the first time.
Ngoba slapped his leg and released one of his deep laughs. He pointed at Osla and continued chuckling.
On his shoulder, Crash ducked his head and spread his wings, the parrot-equivalent of amusement.
REPAIRS AND IMPROVEMENTS
STELLAR DATE: 08.18.3011 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Lowspin Docks
REGION: Cruithne Station, Terran Hegemony, InnerSol
A glowing image of the Amplified Solution hung in the holotank in the middle of Fran’s workshop, a rectangular space with huge, round windows that looked down on the repair docks below.
The green implants in Fran’s eyes shimmered as she studied the ship. They had spent the last hour going through expanded maps of its systems and hull, with Fran both frowning and chuckling at what she found in the Marsian design and the later ‘retrofit’.
“It’s a Marsian courser,” the engineer said eventually. “They didn’t lie about that.”
Cara found herself crestfallen. The ship had done everything she’d asked and more. “It’s run pretty well so far.”
Fran noticed Cara’s hurt expression and slapped her on the shoulder. “I criticize because I care. Haven’t I ever told you that before? You remember what I told you was the best kind of problem to have?”
“An engineering problem.”
“Exactly. This is a good ship. It’s fine. It was built for long-range military applications, and the design reflects that. The retrofit company came in and added some creature comforts, adjusted the engines for short-run travel, and generally made it look prettier than the blunt instrument it was made to be. Now I would recommend we bring it in and make a few adjustments.”
As Fran pointed to different sections of the ship, she ran through a list of propulsion, infrastructure, communications, and attack capabilities.
“And we’ll add the railgun here, along the axis,” Fran said.
“Did you say railgun?”
“You’ve already got point defense cannons and missiles. You need a mid-range attack capability. Otherwise, all you can do is start a fight and hopefully kill them, or wait until they get close enough for you to maybe finish the job. Maybe.”
“Have you gotten more pessimistic with time?” Cara asked.
She intended to joke, but Fran didn’t laugh.
“Yes, I have.”
It wasn’t like Fran to be maudlin, and she didn’t say anything more, focusing instead on her plan for [TSS] Amplified Solution. The upgrades seemed to come about without Cara’s approval, but she knew Fran wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“How long are you going to need?” Cara asked.
“Good question. I cleared an exterior bay. We’re going to pull in half the drone workforce, and redirect the manufacturing rig to get everything pre-fabbed. I’m aiming for five days. I know you want to get after Tim, but five days isn’t going to change anything in the grand scheme of things. Fugia still has to find him.”
“She made it sound like she could look him up whenever she wanted,” Cara said.
The statement wasn’t as truthful as she would have liked. Tim’s token had so far eluded Fugia and her resources on the Mesh.
“She’ll do it. Fugia Wong is the most determined person I know, and I know a lot of stubborn assholes.”
Cara grinned at Fran. “Now that was a good joke.”
“I’m not joking.” Fran couldn’t help her smile.
Sighing at the holodisplay, Cara nodded. “Five days gives me time to get some things together. I don’t have a crew, technically.”
“I thought Rondo was on your crew?”
“Fugia told him to help get me off Luna. I haven’t asked him to join the ship.”
“He looks lik
e he needs a home.”
“Like a big, mangy dog, you mean? If it wasn’t for the cat, I’d think he was a lunatic.”
“Animals make people trustworthy, don’t they?” Fran observed. “You have to figure the animal has better senses than we do, even augmented.”
“What about Crash the parrot? What’s he?”
“Crash is the smartest being I’ve met. What he sees in Ngoba Starl, I’ll never know. But they’re friends. If you haven’t made it back to Night Park, you should head down there. The baby parrots are the cutest things. Even the baby ravens are cute, and those ravens are sneaky buggers.”
“Sounds like Night Park is a different place than I remember.”
“Didn’t you know?” Fran asked, raising her eyebrows. “The birds have made Cruithne family-friendly. People come from all over to see those birds. It’s great for business. We hide all sorts of illegal business under the tourism.”
“Sounds like Luna,” Cara said.
“Like everywhere, really.”
USEFUL THREATS
STELLAR DATE: 08.18.3011 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Lowspin Docks
REGION: Cruithne Station, Terran Hegemony, InnerSol
“Should I make threats?” Ngoba asked. “I could space all your people. I could line them up and murder them.”
He didn’t look at Crash as he spoke, though he was sure the parrot was now staring at him with an incredulous, gold eye.
Ngoba said.
Ngoba fought to keep his expression neutral.
Charles Osla was sitting up now; his hands in his lap, tapping one thumb against the other. He tilted his head to the side as he considered the statement.
“You could,” Osla said. “That would probably be the intelligent thing to do. You can’t trust them. You can’t trust me. You’d want to remove any bargaining power I might have. These people aren’t part of your gang, though, are they? You don’t control them.”
Ngoba supposed Osla was trying a subtle jab with the word ‘gang’. As far as Ngoba was concerned, they were both gangsters, just of different magnitudes.
Osla sniffed. “Here’s the thing about people like that. You can’t expect them to believe in anything. These are the forgotten people, the people SolGov couldn’t care less about. They aren’t useful to you, or your Lowspin Syndicate, or they would already be working for you. So what does that leave the average worker on Cruithne Station? Should they put their faith in the Station Administration? What does your administrator know about inspiring love in people?”
Osla said ‘administrator’ like the word tasted bad.
“Now we’re going down a strange track,” Ngoba said. “You sound as though you care what happens to the people out there fighting for you right now. It doesn’t look that way from the outside.”
“The people are part of the movement,” Osla said. “It’s the movement that matters. They don’t matter. I don’t matter. We have a mission, and that’s something that you, SolGov, or the Psion AIs, for that matter, can’t take away from us. You can’t take away the dignity of purpose.”
Raising his hands, Ngoba gave a slow clap. “Excellent speech.”
Osla half-smiled. “Your problem is that you don’t believe in anything either, Ngoba Starl.”
“You’ve got me figured out already? You mind if I ask you a question?”
Osla spread his hands. “I get a choice?”
“You can choose how to answer. Where are you from, Chancellor Osla? How did you come to inhabit the position of leader of the Anderson Collective?”
“You’re trying to flatter me with all this personal interest.”
“I’m genuinely curious,” Ngoba said.
Osla looked bored again. “I’m sure there are any number of biographies you can read that will tell you about my childhood on the Insi Ring, my parents’ death, the effect of hardship on the streets on my psyche. The years I spent in the People’s Army and my political career. Then came the pivotal moment when Psion cracked the Insi Ring, and I took command of a freighter to move a thousand souls off the ring. A thousand people owe their futures to me because I stood up to a bureaucracy that could not face the truth. We were all going to die. I was just the first rat to jump to shore.”
“That’s how you see it?” Ngoba asked.
“Of course. I seized a circumstance that was presented to me by fate. My whole life, I believed the state would care for me. And they will, but we have to respond to the world around us. You know that, Ngoba Starl. You learned that as an orphan here on Cruithne, didn’t you? What was the name of the evil woman who raised you? Mama Chala, I think. She abused all her teenage sons, didn’t she?”
Visibly, Ngoba shrugged. “Life sucks. What should I say about that? Obviously, events turned out all right for me. It’s interesting you refer to the people you saved as having their futures given back to them, because that’s what I want to discuss. Your future. Should I hand you over to SolGov? Should I space you with your followers? Should I expose you as a pawn of Psion? How can you serve me best?”
The corners of Osla’s mouth turned down in a scowl. He didn’t like being called a servant, apparently.
The sight pleased Ngoba. In truth, Cara didn’t have an answer from Folsom yet, on the plan for Osla. Ngoba wasn’t about to hold such a valuable prisoner and risk an invasion or further terrorist action, so he would be fine with handing the man off to SolGov.
What bothered him was how many people had gathered to the call of the Anderson Collective on a station that fostered generations of people with grey sensibilities. He wanted to know what about Charles Osla was so attractive to them. Or maybe, as the man said, it wasn’t him, but the purpose—whatever that was.
“My life is in your hands,” Osla said in a low voice. He didn’t seem interested in being glib anymore. “Since I’m at your mercy, a shower would be nice. Maybe a drink. Does your parrot know any words?”
Ngoba stood. “He knows more than me,” he said. “You’ll be taken care of. I tell you this…. You bring harm to any of my people by trying to escape, and I will use very thin wire to tie you to that chair.”
No threats, Ngoba thought. I never make threats.
THE FRUITLESS SEARCH
STELLAR DATE: 08.18.3011 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Lowspin Docks
REGION: Cruithne Station, Terran Hegemony, InnerSol
The apartment Fugia kept on Cruithne might have been the closest thing to a home she’d ever had.
For a long time in her life, she couldn’t get far enough away from the asteroid. Then something had shifted inside her. Maybe she had grown up, realized she had power over her life, or simply realized that the terrible things she had known as a girl on Cruithne weren’t as terrible when compared to the rest of Sol. There were lovely things too, and people with good hearts. And, if she admitted it to herself, Ngoba Starl, the only person she had ever come close to loving.
As the leader of the Data Hoarders, the organization that protected the interconnected Mesh safeguarding all human data, she could operate from most anywhere in Sol. In fact, most of her movements were to disguise the fact that she spent most of her time on Cruithne. The asteroid’s apparent horseshoe-shaped orbit that carried it between Earth and Mars also made it an ideal base of
operations. She had lieutenants, like Rondo, for missions in OuterSol, and Fugia had never liked the Cho or other places in the Jovian Combine. All things equal, she was content in her small apartment, sitting cross-legged on a mat in her living room, immersed in her Link.
She had been searching for Tim Sykes for three days now and was running out of time. Fran had bought her a bit of breathing room with the upgrades to the Amplified Solution, but even with the ship to occupy her, Cara was growing more anxious by the day.
Fugia hadn’t expected Folsom to allow the mission, which made her suspect some ulterior motive between the senator and his Marsian counterpart. War had been avoided between the human governments, but only on the slimmest of pretexts. While Camaris worked to establish a stronghold separate of Psion and Alexander, Fugia didn’t trust that elements in SolGov were working to do the same.
As any student of history would know, more factions meant greater likelihood of conflict, and it had been too long now since Sol had felt the heat of war. Cycles would come back around, and war was approaching if people didn’t take active steps to avoid violence. She didn’t trust that Folsom wasn’t working to weaken both Mars and Earth for his own gain. It was the only course of action that made sense, really.
Yet another NSAI had provided null results on Ty’s token, and Fugia was starting to wonder if it wasn’t that Tim was out of range, but that someone in the Mars 1 Guard knew she had found him and had actively changed his ID. If that was the case, he would be lost again. It had only been through complete coincidence that she found him on Vesta. She still cursed herself for not simply abducting him then and dealing with the fallout.
Groaning inwardly at her frustration, Fugia was surprised by an unknown connection request from Cruithne’s orbit. Someone she didn’t know was physically close enough to contact her, and they had her private token.