Tales of Chills and Thrills: The Mystery Thriller Horror Box Set (7 Mystery Thriller Horror Novels) (152 page)

Chapter 3

Brett changed his clothing and began the journey back to the 1-G level, near the skin of the ship. The civilians spent most of their time here. It didn’t make sense to encourage civilians to leave the 1-G VIP area. They might get to like fractional gravity. If they didn’t do their exercises, this created medical problems for them and a nuisance for some physician when they returned to full gravity.

When he arrived he saw Joyce Rollers sitting at the table. He had half expected to hurry up and wait. She was a few years older than Brett, and had made no attempt to disguise the few grey hairs mixed in with the brown ones. She wore a neutral blue jumpsuit. Some women didn’t make an effort to look alluring on a ship full of mostly male space marines who might not make planet fall for years. Brett’s assumption that the neutral look came naturally to Joyce had changed when he discovered a book she had written in the ship’s electronic library. The picture of the author made her look pretty and vulnerable.

She waited in a conference room reserved for Senator Peterson and his staff. Warships didn’t waste space, but these people received more than most. Wooden paneling concealed grey steel bulkheads, comfortable chairs surrounded the table, and the VIP section provided normal gravity.

A full pot of coffee stood on the table. Brett poured a cup. A sip confirmed that the best coffee on the ship could be found here. He sat across from Joyce. After perfunctory greetings on both sides she began her pitch.

“Brett, I want you to sign my report.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Even though I disagree with it?”

She replied, “It would be neater than you covering the same ground.”

It would be neater all right. The misleading report would go un-contradicted. Meanwhile Brett recognized the signatures of several people who had mentioned reservations to him.

“Neatness isn’t really your major concern here, is it?”

She replied, “This could be the bloodiest action the Federalist Worlds have taken for hundreds of years.”

Did this woman represent the Senator’s views? Was the decision already made?

He replied, “That’s not our decision. We assess the threat. Our superiors decide what to do.”

Joyce stared at him coolly. “So the blood won’t be on our hands. How convenient.”

Progress, in a way, more than Brett had expected when she insisted on this last meeting. She had just practically admitted that her real disagreement wasn’t with his analysis, but the conclusions she feared would be drawn from it.

Before Brett could reply, she took a deep breath and backtracked, “I’m sorry, Brett. That was uncalled for. I know you saw what happened at Skulton personally. Please don’t let that color your judgment now. No hive mind has committed war crimes on Oceania, or anywhere else besides Roundhouse. Even given your uncertainty, this opportunity won’t occur again. They’ve already agreed to stop exporting their technology, and we might even keep the embargo in place, with certain humanitarian exceptions.”

Brett said, “I’m not sure ‘uncertainty’ is the right word here.”

Joyce replied, “The war on Roundhouse was an ugly war, and the planet has a history of atrocities. Most of them happened before anyone brought nanotechnology there.”

Not ‘no evidence,’ Brett thought, but certainly no proof. They knew very little about the neural interface – or even the extent to which the implementation on Roundhouse had differed from Oceania.

“Joyce, one properly trained Oceanian with a few pounds of densely packed storage crystals and nanomachines could start another world on the path towards a new overmind.”

She countered, “Maybe on an industrialized world. It would be hard to hide, easy to stop, and take many people a long time.”

She still didn’t get it. The guard of the Federalist Worlds would gradually become lax as decades passed, and the blockade became another budget expense. Meanwhile, there were many who found something seductive about becoming part of an overmind – possibly even her.

Brett tried again, “Joyce, part of what happened on Roundhouse was that some people wanted to use Nannies and others were concerned about the long term consequences for their world. A government could go quite a long way secretly.”

“–if they wanted. But if nanotechnology is so terrible -”

Brett interrupted, “Same principle as involuntary quarantine for those who won’t cooperate during an epidemic. Some think a disease is not so dangerous until too late, especially if they’ve got it.”

She didn’t reply. Brett allowed the silence to stretch, until the faint breeze of the air circulation impinged upon his consciousness. Then he returned to something Joyce had never addressed.

“After the war on Roundhouse ended and the surviving perpetrators of the Rape of Skulton had the nanotechnology removed from their bloodstream, they testified they never would have done such a thing if it weren’t for the nascent Roundhouse overmind. The Oceanians were pretty vague when we asked them about it. Maybe they really don’t know themselves, even the people who understand the technology best admit they as individuals can’t fully understand the emergent superminds. This makes it a little hard to accept a commitment that the overmind will cease trying to reproduce itself at face value.”

“Brett, I explained before. Some things about the trials were classified secret.”

He nodded agreement. “And you have access to information which you think is relevant. The Senator has access too, so he can decide.”

She hesitated, then switched tacks, “Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

Brett could feel his temper rising. He held himself rigidly still. “In most criminal trials, it may be better to see many guilty go free rather than one innocent convicted. When something threatens trillions of lives, no.”

Joyce sighed. “Brett, have you noticed lots of people have some kind of emotional fear of overminds? Apart from any reasons they might give, some kind of feeling that its mere existence is offensive, there’s something wrong about it?”

He nodded with affected casualness, leashing his anger. Brett was almost certain that the Oceanians attributed the Federalist Worlds actions to some sort of ineffable fear. “Oh yes. As a matter of fact I’m one of them, so maybe everything I say is invalid. I’ll just delete … no wait. Did you notice up until a decade and a half ago, there was kind of a mania for it in the Federalist Worlds as the next step in human evolution? Some people even started moving to Oceania. It was like believing in the supermind was religion without the hard parts, or unscientific parts, depending on who you asked.”

Joyce replied, “Some people have the wrong idea about Oceania. Only a few of them are part of the overmind, and none of them act as part of it all the time. They live normal lives like the rest of us.”

Brett raised an eyebrow. “I’ve studied all the information we have, and I’d like to know how you’re so certain of that. They do seem to spend some time away from the high bandwidth connections they use as part of the supermind. We don’t know what, if anything, is left inside.”

“What exactly would it take to convince you?”

Brett stopped to think. What would it take to convince him the overmind was safe to leave as it was? He couldn’t imagine a realistic answer, given what he knew. What would convince him to say it was safe when he didn’t believe it? Nothing.

He answered the implied question rather than the one spoken aloud, “You’re absolutely right.”

Without more argument, he pulled the computer off his belt and ordered his report sent. Joyce had a few seconds to stop him, but she didn’t try. Instead she did the same.

Brett had reserved the room for another half hour. They sat in silence as some of the tension diffused. Joyce asked idly, “So what now?”

Brett grinned, suddenly realizing how little their struggles would probably mean in the scheme of things. “Well, I’m sure Senator Peterson has left word that as soon as Colonel Barr receives our reports, he should alert the Senator immediately, even if he’s asleep.”

Joyce made a derisive sound between a laugh and a snort.

Brett frowned, as if in exaggerated surprise. “Don’t tell me you think they’ll be ignored unless someone wants support for something they’ve already decided to do?”

Joyce didn’t even nod, possibly assuming the question was rhetorical.

There was something classy about sitting in 1-G in one of the few wooden chairs in the ship, but Brett was actually ready to get up.

Joyce wasn’t quite through. “It would have been harder for them to ignore our report if it had been unanimous.”

He didn’t bother pointing out that she could have signed his. “Not so very. We don’t really have that much more hard data than we did when we arrived, so we don’t have much of an advantage over the analysts at home. Senator Peterson is hardly going to give our opinions more weight because we’re physically near him.”

Brett started to stand. Joyce could have the room to herself if she wanted to. The faint but ever present smells of humanity and metal ship were somehow filtered out of the air, and Brett didn’t want to let himself get used to that. The levels of the huge ship near 1-G were used intensively to keep the troops fit and ready to fight in normal gravity, except for the small civilian section.

“Brett.”

He glanced up and she continued. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to go along with everyone else? I mean, nobody could condemn you for coming to the same conclusion everyone else did.”

“It would have been easier. I wonder if that’s part of the attraction some people have to the idea of a supermind: going along with everyone else, while pretending to be part of something higher instead of lower than an individual?”

She replied, “I suppose you’re going to accuse me of going along with the crowd?”

“Heck no – you were leading it.”

“Doesn’t that make me worse than a passive go-along-with-the-crowd enemy of individualism? More dangerous because I don’t practice what I preach?”

Brett didn’t reply verbally to her teasing, instead he looked ostentatiously around the room, waiting for her to ask what he was doing.

She beat him to the punch line, “Looking for somewhere to hide my body after you kill me?”

Before Brett could reply, the belt computer he’d left on the polished table chimed. He raised an eyebrow. Military Intelligence officers didn’t get many emergency messages without combat underway.

He glanced at the gray plastic slab, then raised an eyebrow. “Looks as if I was right the first time. Senator Peterson wants to see me twenty minutes from now.”

Joyce made the same noise as before. “Right. Funny man. Tell him I’m a good girl and deserve better than being assigned to work with the peasants under Colonel Barr. Too bad you don’t have time to go back to your quarters and change into a dress uniform, huh?”

Brett noticed how different her mood sounded now that she’d given up her aggressive attempt to get him to second her conclusions, as if an underlying kinship connected them. They both fought hard for what they believed, but presumably her side had an advantage: the Senator’s support.

Brett showed her the writing on the little device. Her jaw didn’t drop, but she did blink slowly once.

It really was too bad he didn’t have time to change his uniform, maybe shave again. Or possibly it wasn’t. Being dismissed as a screw up would deprive him of the chance to have a war on his conscience.

Chapter 4

In front of the Senator’s cabin stood a door instead of a hatch, although lined with an airtight plastic seal. It slid aside silently for Brett.

Brett glanced at the cabin as he reported to the Senator. Much of the artwork was military, although Brett knew the Senator had no military experience himself. The painting of wooden ships firing cannons at each other over stormy seas could have been a legend from Old Earth, or a scene from one of the worlds which had built such ships after civil war had engulfed the Shoulder and caused many worlds to lose advanced technology.

Peterson was in his fifties, about twenty years older than Brett. He looked a few pounds overweight, but bore them with dignity.

He could see the Senator sizing him up. Brett was as fit as any line officer of his rank. When the Senator spoke, his voice was deep, pleasant, and fluid. He spoke of complex ideas without seeming to lecture or make long speeches.

“Major Johnson, thank you for coming. Sorry about the short notice, but things are starting to move at last.”

‘You’re welcome’ seemed inappropriate, since he was actually under orders. “At your service Senator.”

Senator Peterson nodded an acknowledgement. “Major, we’ve had over a hundred thousand men orbiting this world for over a year. Add in the support craft. Now add in the warships that would defend that investment if one of Oceania’s trading partners stuck their nose in. An expensive fleet. If we agreed to Oceania’s proposal and lifted the blockade, we would need only enough smaller ships to inspect incoming and outgoing cargo.”

How could Peterson even talk about money? If he didn’t believe human freedom lay in the balance, he should just say so. If he did, how could cost matter?

Brett opened his mouth to object, but the man behind the desk held up a hand. His air of authority kept Brett from interrupting.

The Senator took a sip from the mug on his desk and continued, “Joyce Rollers was one of the aides who would normally work with me. Instead she was assigned to work under Colonel Barr with the intelligence analysts. Did it occur to you that I was sending a message through her?”

“Yes, sir.”

Perhaps the decision was already made, but Brett’s brain began racing. He could think of no reason for this man to report his decision to a Major he had never met before. Something still hung in the balance.

“Did she ever say so explicitly?”

So Peterson wanted deniability as well as cherry picked intelligence. While pretending to look at the man’s face, Brett saw the photographs on the far wall just past the right side of his head. Brett couldn’t quite make out the people he shook hands with, but the pictures brought home the fact that he dealt with a politician.

“No, sir. She never claimed it, and she denied it when asked outright. She didn’t object when others just assumed it.”

The Senator’s mouth tightened, betraying anger under a layer of self discipline. “She’s very clever.”

Brett blinked in surprise as the Senator continued.

“Rollers… aggressively argued her position before all the facts were in. When she got to be a nuisance I asked her to work under Colonel Barr.”

Had Brett misunderstood? Could the Senator be on the right side after all? The pause didn’t stretch out long enough to indicate a reply was expected.

“She represents the views of a sizable minority of the Federalist Worlds, including the ambassador we’ve just recalled.”

Brett didn’t know the ambassador, so he said only, “Yes, sir.”

He gave no voice to his relief, more for the sake of the Federalist Worlds than for himself.

The Senator continued, “Ambassador Williams is the result of a compromise. Oceanian nanotechnology remains a potential danger even when confined to Oceania. I’m concerned that his diplomatic instincts might get the better of him.”

As the Senator shifted in his seat, the picture caught Brett’s eye again and he realized the other man in the photograph was Admiral Lassiter, not a politician or lobbyist. The thought lifted his spirits, although he no more believed in heroism by association than guilt by association.

Senator Peterson continued, “Part of the problem lay with the man assigned to assist the Ambassador, who was our expert in Oceanian nanotechnology. He was originally sent to verify that people from the Federalist Worlds who wanted to return home had had all the nanotechnology removed from their bloodstream, and to learn as much as he could to help shorten the war if we couldn’t avoid it. Since he had some experience dealing with the Oceanians, he was also involved in negotiations.”

Apparently the Senator understood the subtle danger they faced and knew the political nuances more deeply than Brett. He continued quietly, but with restrained anger. “He became convinced Oceanian nanotechnology is harmless, and spent more time trying to convince us than convincing the Oceanians. He was recalled as well.”

Senator Peterson’s eyes bored into him, and Brett prepared to learn his part in this. “You’ll replace him. I’m aware you have no diplomatic experience, but you’ll take part in the negotiations as your predecessor did. The possibility that you might not be diplomatic enough is not my main worry. Make sure Williams doesn’t make concessions we can’t live with. Breaking an agreement would be preferable to tolerating a threat to humanity, but it would be better to do neither.”

For an instant Brett wanted to cheer. He would negotiate instead of a politician. He understood what was at stake. Then reality came crashing in.

“Sir I – I’ve never negotiated anything, never dealt with politicians.”

Inside his head he added that he only wrote reports the politicians ignored, then subtracted it again since the Senator hadn’t ignored this one.

“The Ambassador will be there for that.”

Brett shifted just slightly, becoming aware how rigid the last few shocks had made his body. “Sir, are you saying I’m expected to forbid him to make certain concessions?”

“Not directly, but you’ll communicate with my staff.”

Brett considered the problems this would create. The Senator continued, “There’s a time factor involved. These talks have been spun out for years already. We cannot permit endless negotiations, nor keep this force in place indefinitely. Contingency plans for the invasion are already being made. Much of the equipment used to replicate the nanotechnology is decentralized, as is the information system that technology communicates with. We will be forced to destroy a large number of industrial buildings if war cannot be avoided – and many casualties will result if they attempt to defend them rather than agreeing to evacuate. War can only be avoided if you convey to them the fact that we are serious and action is imminent.”

Brett hadn’t finished talking about the problems his inexperience might cause. A misstep on his part could conceivably cause a war. Yet an hour ago he had feared he was a sole unheard voice for the dangers they were dealing with. He wouldn’t beg off now, even if the Senator let him.

The Senator continued as if his participation were a foregone conclusion. Perhaps it was. “Anything you can learn about their systems that would make a war shorter and easier will be of great benefit as well. Be as discreet as you can, but I rely on your judgment. Nobody wants war, but anything that makes the Oceanians realize how serious we are is not all bad.”

Brett wasn’t too worried about being caught at cloak and dagger espionage. In an open society where scientists and engineers trained and studied and shared ideas, information that didn’t seem worth keeping secret might turn out to be valuable.

The Senator was still speaking. “Military intelligence will go through your chain of command. Colonel Barr has an excellent professional reputation on that score. He’ll give you more details on your assignment.”

Brett had only a moment to wonder about the slight emphasis on ‘that score.’ The Senator thanked him for coming and nodded a dismissal. Brett had already turned to leave and opened the door when his host spoke again.

“Brett.”

Before Brett could turn around again the Senator spoke rapidly. His voice was quiet, yet so raw it was painful to hear. “Your only responsibility is to the Space Force, which reports to the Council of Federalist Worlds. That’s all that matters, and my son probably isn’t here anyway. He just mentioned Oceania a few times before leaving home. The Oceanians say that his right to privacy prevents them from telling me if he’s here or not, but that if he’s here they’ve given him all my messages and he hasn’t answered. I’ve forwarded a few details to your computer, and if you do happen to find out anything I’d be grateful.”

Brett turned back towards the Senator. “I will, sir,” he replied, and this time finished closing the door behind him.

Brett would have to report to his immediate superior, and began to make his way to Colonel Barr’s office. Each image that passed through his mind overwhelmed the previous one. He would soon breathe unrecycled air, eat fresh food, stride through open spaces. No, that was trivial, one misstep might lead to war. No, even that was trivial, failure to act might betray all of the Federalist Worlds, including trillions of lives.

As soon as he left the civilian section of the ship, he was again conscious of the gray metal passageways that hooked up the rest of the ship. In theory the ship was designed so two people could easily pass each other going opposite directions, but in practice sometimes various pipes and equipment interfered. He took three tubes, one following what would have been a line of longitude on the surface of a planet, one following a line of latitude, and one taking him towards the center of the ship, where gravity was weak even while the ship was spinning. Colonel Barr’s office was quite cramped, but he encouraged guests to use the space with maximum efficiency. At 1/5 G, Brett was quite comfortable hanging around there, especially when he had a little ledge near his feet. He reported in and took a deep breath.

“Colonel, you’re not going to believe this, unless you recommended me in the first place. I’m the new assistant to Ambassador Williams.”

Barr responded obliquely, “Roundhouse is the only world where you ever actually saw ground combat, isn’t it?”

Brett nodded. He knew Barr well enough not to interrupt his flow with a verbal response.

“You probably saw more actual danger than any other medical officer in the fleet. That was an ugly war, bloodier than most. The thing was, there was already a civil war going on when we got there, and many people on both sides were secretly glad to see us. This is different. It isn’t often we try to occupy a peaceful planet and do something that will indirectly cost many lives.”

Brett wanted to protest, but he knew Oceania’s entire economy and medical system were interwoven with the nanotechnology that they used to communicate with their information systems. Colonel Barr was correct. They should be prepared for determined resistance.

“I have a great deal of respect for Senator Peterson. He supports the Space Marines. It’s just that when a war turns really ugly, sometimes a politician forgets who decided it was necessary and who merely gave advice on how it should be done. I’m not suggesting he would do such a thing, just that it sometimes happens.”

This wasn’t the can-do Space Force officer Brett worked for. Brett struggled to remain impassive in the face of this near disrespect for their civilian masters. The Colonel was still speaking.

“Just remember, even though the orders to speak with Senator Peterson came through your chain of command, he isn’t part of it. The orders you’re going to receive will direct you to assist Ambassador Williams, and that is your assignment. Despite his quirks he’s very knowledgeable. He’ll be counting on you.”

Less than an enthusiastic endorsement of the man he would be working with. Brett had something more important on his mind though. “Sir, on Roundhouse I saw what a hive mind could do. I won’t exceed my authority, but I won’t conceal from the Senator exactly what orders I receive.”

Barr scowled. “That’s what I don’t like about you. All this ass kissing and sucking up makes me nauseous. Give it to me straight.”

Brett grinned at the sarcasm. “Sorry sir. I’ll do better next time.”

Colonel Barr continued, “In answer to your earlier question, I didn’t recommend you for this. You’re a smart guy, but you weren’t transferred to military intelligence because of your skills as a diplomat … or a spy. It just so happened you were one of the neurosurgeons who spent the most time working with people exposed to nanomachines… at just the time Oceanian technology was booted way up in our list of priorities.”

The Colonel had left out Brett’s Silver Sun, which was fair enough, since arguably it was as much a product of stubbornness as courage. Brett had never heard of a neurosurgeon winning one before him. He hadn’t wanted it after learning what had happened to Sergeant Mackey, but the Colonel had convinced him he deserved it, and that the Space Force needed heroes just then. Now it seemed Barr felt he needed a dose of humility, and continued to deliver it. He hadn’t even mentioned Brett’s independent research.

“I’m not saying I wouldn’t recommend my worst enemy for this. I might. I know how strongly you believe in this, and I’ve heard how impressive the Senator is in person, but take care. No matter how resolute he seemed, you have his clout behind you to a point, but he won’t shoulder the blame if things go wrong. Good luck, Major.”

Brett respected Colonel Barr, but was convinced this mission was necessary. He hadn’t been asked to argue though, and he didn’t.

As soon as he was dismissed, Brett headed back to his cabin to make sure his dress uniforms were ready for the trip, and examine the skimpy briefing materials given him on their Oceanian counterparts. He made his belt computer project them on the wall. The head of the team they would engage in verbal combat with didn’t sound formidable. According to his predecessor’s notes, the Oceanian ambassador was 213 years old, a living example of the extended Oceanian life expectancy. He had a rare condition, rare even a hundred years ago when Oceanian technology had been cruder. Due to brief periods of ‘totaling’, using his entire brain to participate in the overmind, the sensory and motor cortexes of his brain displayed certain imperfections when performing their normal functions.