Confluence Point (21 page)

For a while no one spoke, Mary's hand was clutched over her mouth, she didn't know what to think.

Kutch was neutral, still looking cautious, disbelieving. The claim to him seemed almost outrageous.

It was Kevin who spoke first. "Oh bugger me . . . did we even come out of the same womb?"

Regan laughed.

Kutch couldn't hold back. "Regan, you've got to be having us on
-
how is that even possible?"

"Kutch, I don't fully understand it either and I can understand you being skeptical, I would have been too, but my friend - it's true. That's all I can tell you for now. There's a story behind it and it's been a process, it's not something that just happened in an instant, but look, the bottom line is I've made the jump, I'm really there away on that ship and I'm really here, this version of me anyway."

"This isn't just Ham pulling a prank?" Kevin asked.

"No," and the beautiful man appeared, "I wouldn't do that, not about something like this."

"Shit Regan," Kevin stood there for a while, like the others still incredulous, trying to work out whether this was for real or not. "Bear with us babe, it's going to take some time to process this
-
and if you've been here why didn't you just tell us earlier?"

"Good question . . ." She walked around the desk and sat down in Kevin's chair, much to everyone's amazement. "I didn't say anything earlier because this is such a big deal, and I really wanted to hide in the system here. But that Russian attack, along with Mitch's betrayal, it really made me think. I don't want to sit on the sidelines anymore and I want to make some changes, big changes, huuuge changes." and she gestured widely in emphasis. "I obviously can't do it myself at the moment as there are things only you guys can do, so I needed to talk with you and put some things in motion . . . and here I am."

Understandably they weren't ready for business. They had questions, all coming in a rush and she let them. How did this happen and when? How does it feel? In what form does she exist, how is she distinct from Ham and Hilary in there?

Her answers were understandably vague. They were questions she'd asked herself, without being able to find answers. Where do individual thoughts reside? What are thoughts, memories and dreams? All thoughts, concepts and ideas buzzing around in our heads, are they each distinct or are they all part of the same thing. And if they're distinct from each other where do they each reside, staying distinct, or do they overlap? And if it's possible for all that fluid thinking to be going on in the biological computer that is our brain, why would it not be possible for the same fluid thinking to find a home in a computer system?

Eventually, brains hurting, they needed a break. Kevin, always the responsible leader, brought things back to the job in hand.

"Ok babe . . . we're not going to work this out today, if ever, so what do you want us to do?"

"Kevin, I've had a complete change of heart since the Russian attack, it's changed everything for me. I've been hoping everyone would see the light and be prepared to work together in space but it seems like its part of our DNA to fight to be top dog. Well, maybe I've just been too idealistic. Why fight human nature? I've decided when it comes to space we're going to be top dog and simply share the spoils.

That Russian attack in one foul blow shot down any hope of the International Space Coalition developing shuttles on their own and that will put back any hope of them reaching out into the solar system unless we help.

I'm proposing we take over all space fleet development by leasing ships and space on Hillary to our partners. STEIN will take the lead in space, not just by example but in practice. We'll be the over arching power while we support our customer's aims and objectives, provided they don't override the rights of others in the process. The choice they have is either to agree and make the jump into space with us or they don't and remain grounded until they can develop the tech themselves."

"So you're saying no more shuttles or tech that they can copy. If they want ships we supply them."

"And the crews," Regan replied. "We don't give anyone ships anymore. They lease our ships and crews to do the jobs they want and provided we agree we will support them."

"Regan," Kevin interrupted, "Have we got the available space on Hillary and on the flight decks for that kind of commitment?"

"Not now, but we will have space Kev; Hilary has plans for a much bigger Orbital and with the Coran support we'll ramp up the building program. Hillary Station will become a small planet and we'll establish new shipyards, decks and city space in the planned extra rings."

"What about Hillary Step?" Mary asked.

"I want to move it out to orbit Saturn. It will provide a staging post for the outer system and become the mining base of the people of Cora. The Step will remain ours and Cora will lease space there, paid for in minerals or whatever else they can trade."

"I can tell there's more to this babe, you seem to have thought of everything."

"Not everything Kev, more decisions will need to be made as we go along but when they do they won't be made by committee any more, I'll tell you that.

Kev, I want you to take this to the International Coalition. This attack has been the catalyst for my decision and if they're unhappy with it they can take it up with the Russians. I have no doubts this is a more productive way to go."

Regan started to pace, it was her usual thinking process and the group quickly fell into the habit of tracking her as she walked. It had only taken a few minutes and they seemed totally adjusted to her new presence in the room. The confident assertive approach was pure Regan and it was easy to just accept it. At the same time intuitively they knew she was truly with them.

She continued, "I honestly think that if we sell this right they'll be happy anyway. It'll save them an absolute fortune in dollars better put into looking after things at home. Plus it's a much smarter way for everyone to reach into space even if it's a private company in charge. They can choose to retain their independence if they want and that's fine with me. But make it clear to them that they will get a lot further by coming under STEIN."

"Are you looking to take over or something Regan?" Mary asked.

She looked thoughtful, pondering the question before answering. "Put it like this, if we're going to make progress, in space at least, some form of benign dictatorship might be the only way to achieve it. Frankly I've had enough of imperialistic aims in space; they just stand in the way of progress. If they won't work together off their own initiative, then let's force the issue and win them over in the process."

"What are our roles in all of this?" Kutch asked.

Smiling at him she couldn't hold back a laugh. "Someone had to be the eye candy for this meeting. No, seriously, the other change in my thinking Kutch, is I don't want us to be vulnerable without weapons ever again. I hate it, I truly do, but Rod’s right, we need to arm the DFs more effectively and I'd like to do it in a smart way. I've got ideas for some weapon systems but something tells me, Kutch, that you and I working together with Ham will come up things even more effective."

She turned back to Kevin.

"Kev, this is a takeover of the Space Coalition and it needs someone like you to head it up, do the negotiations, pull in the team you need and make it happen. Be a ball breaker out there and I'll back you all the way. We've got all the good tech, so what are they gonna do? As for STEIN Corp, hand it over to Mary, she'll keep making the money and you know it."

He looked at her with an expression she had seen many times before. It was resigned and inspired all in one.

"I don't know how you do it sis, I really don't. Well, I guess we've got some planning to do."

* * *

Chapter Three

The Mother Lode appeared, accompanied by the small fleet, flashing through interstellar space and reorienting in tandem, turning slowly onto the new line for the second surge to warp.  There would be no break, no opportunity to pause and enjoy the view yet Beria still enjoyed the moment having imposed her presence on the Control room much to the Commander’s annoyance.

Tyron resisted the temptation to even turn and acknowledge her, instead steeling himself to focus on the screen as he barked redundant commands to those around him. His thoughts churned relentlessly,
leave . . . leave you bitch, you're not welcome!

Communication with the fleet confirmed all vessels were performing faultlessly. Having emerged almost simultaneously in formation, the Mother Lode and the Ascendant still flanked the two older warships just as they had when they jumped. He took arrogant pride in the fact, despite such precision being entirely attributable to the ship’s systems. He settled back in the command chair musing childishly,
the most powerful force to leave Cora in generations and I am entrusted with command . . . not her!

"Prepare to jump."

"Yes Commander, we are on line, ready to jump on your call."

In that final second before going to warp the Ascendant squirted a message at light speed to the two centre ships, new orders accompanied by condensed files. The packages successfully delivered, all four warships built their waves in concert and made their leap.

As the starscape disappeared from screen Beria, with a theatrical swirl, swept from control, a nonchalant curl of her finger confirming Mistek's fate. Reluctantly he followed, a gnawing in his gut and the nauseating sense he could smell her excitement. He knew this was the way it would be, as the nearer she got to the goal, the more her demands on him would grow. He was trapped, the plaything on which she would work out her anger and dissipate the frustrations of unrealized revenge. He unconsciously groaned with the thoughts.

Entering her rooms ahead of the guards he failed to see the blow that felled him, one of the two dropping him with a club to the head. Mistek fell to his knees only to be dragged up again and slammed against the wall. Struggling briefly in panic he realized resistance was futile, both arms pinned and a blade held to his throat. Beria ignored the commotion and it was over swiftly, the distressed Mistek held dangling there.

Turning slowly toward him she stepped close to the terrified man and smiled grimly. "Mistek, you disappoint me."

"How Mistress, I seek only to serve?" It was clearly uncomfortable for him to speak, his arms being pinned high, forcing him to reach for the deck with his toes.

"Your recent displays of petulance have become tiresome Mistek, you will not humiliate me again in front of the crew."

"Mistress, I mean no offense, if I have conveyed anything other than devotion . . ."

She ignored him and interrupted. "I had thought you were something more than a servant Mistek, was I wrong?"

"Mistress, this has always been my desire . . .
you
are my desire and it is my honor to serve." He spoke desperately, pleading.

"Good . . . good Mistek, then perhaps we understand each other." She stepped away, seeming to light up with the exercise of power.

"Suit!" She turned and walked to the bunk as the guards dropped him to the floor and tore off the garment, shredding it in the process. Sitting on the bed she looked down at him as he rolled to his knees massaging his arms. She nodded at the guards who left the room to resume position either side of the door. 

Beria gave the young man time to recover, watching him through beady eyes. Finally he looked up, still rubbing his shoulders. He summoned his most grateful look and to his relief she smiled.

"Such unpleasantness . . . I'm sure this was just a misunderstanding my love." Her eyes grazed the young male and noted his eager obedient nod. She seemed to pause and gazed upward as if considering her next move. "Hmm, this does seem so much more convenient for us. You will remain available for the duration." Returning her gaze to him she reached down and lifted the flowing robe above her waist. She wore nothing underneath.

"And now Mistek, it has been such a long and exciting morning." Leaning back against the sumptuous pillows she spoke to the ceiling, "You may begin."

Mistek crawled forward.

* * *

Tihan Orbital, Gliese 667 System

Ham met with Tihan in the senate committee room. He could tell Tihan was nervous but failed to see why. Effectively, as he saw it, four Orbitals were represented at the meeting and Ham considered that number quite sufficient for a quorum, certainly capable of decision making for the system. That only he and Tihan were actually present was inconsequential as far as he was concerned.

The handover of Cora to Tihan had been most successful, leaving Ham responsible for Dahlia and holding proxy for the AI of the other most outlying Orbital, Acura. She was far too busy for politics but wholly supportive and Ham liked her. That meant between them Ham and Tihan effectively spoke for four out of six Orbitals in the system.
Surely that gives us voting power!

Acura had been a simple and bloodless conquest. The Acura were the only other mining tribe and the only real competition to Cora. Ham felt sure he could help both struggling Orbitals and with such promises he had easily won the young Acura Mind's support. She trusted him to be her representative, meaning he need only win Tihan's support for the next steps in his master plan.

The beautiful man smiled inwardly as he observed that Tihan's chosen avatar had become even more sage like, almost Socratic with the robe and sash. Ham resisted the temptation to point out he himself was twice Tihan's age.
The pride of an Orbital Mind knows no bounds
, he thought.

Ham had no illusions about the perception of his place in the hierarchy of Minds. Having been conceived as a ship AI left him well down the Orbital pecking order, of that he was sure.
Oh but what a ship!
He quietly chuckled. He didn't mind being underestimated; such assumptions left the door wide open for him.