The Great Symmetry (33 page)

As Mira and Kestrel delved into the details, the plan grew more and more complex. Simultaneous actions, against multiple cyber targets, all sketched together in just a few minutes. For the plan to succeed would require inattention on the part of government staffers, as well as a huge me
asure of luck.

Kate grew increasingly uneasy. She saw Evan track the conversation, following every word. Finally he appeared to come to a decision. “Stop, you two,” he said. “This isn’t how to do it. This won’t work without the help of the Kelter government. We need to convince the governor, and to do that we need to get back in.”

“That I can do!” Kestrel exclaimed, looking relieved. “Just a little prep. So much easier than attacking their entire network.”

“How soon can you be ready?” Evan asked.

Kestrel considered for a moment. “About twenty minutes. Who needs to get in?”

“I’ll just slow you all down,” Mira said, “and I’ll stick out like a sore thumb. For that reason, I’m out.”

“And this is the moment where I must say that I am too old for this,” Axiom put in.

“Ok, three of us,” Kestrel said. “You guys figure out what you’re going to say, and I’ll make a call for a few items. We especially need some camo. Find a place where we can change clothes.” He turned to his phone and hurried away.

Fifteen minutes later, Kestrel was back, carrying a bundle. “All right, w
e’ll need to put these on.”

Evan, Kate, and Kestrel ducked into a small meeting room they had found, and they checked out their respective new clothes. “I was expecting something more official, like a uniform,” Kate observed.

“This is the uniform of the situation room,” Kestrel told them. “It’s called Business Casual. The staff in the situation room is ninety five percent contractors, and this is what they wear. Anyway there’s no doubt we’ll be recognized at some point, and that’s the moment we’ll have to make the most of.”

In a few minutes they were ready to set out, and emerged back into the hallway where Mira and Axiom awaited.
Kestrel was finishing up with some instructions. “Walk purposefully and try to look like you’re concentrating on something important. When we pass people, acknowledge them briefly if they look at you, but don’t slow down.”

“I can’t believe I’m not doing this part,” Mira said, looking up from her wheelchair.

“We’ll just have to get by without your people skills,” Evan replied.

Kate couldn’t tell if Mira’s response was a grimace or a smile. “It’s your show now,” Mira told them. “You’ve got this.”

As Evan and Kate set out to follow Kestrel, Mira called out to them, “And guys −”

They turned to look at Mira, who seemed to be holding herself back from wheeling their way by sheer effort of will.

“Just − fly casual.”

The trio followed a route that Kestrel clearly knew very well. No human guards stood in their way, just gates with electronic locks. In a few places Kestrel instructed them to take certain exact steps, or turn aside from a camera placement. He had placed a kind of tape over their Stewart monitors, which evidently masked their signal.

Just before one door, Kestrel warned them, “There will be people in this next section. Remember what I said. When in doubt, look worried, in a kind of distant
way.”

It turned out that the area was well populated, which Kate quickly realized was an advantage. Anonymity in numbers. After they passed two different groups without incident, they relaxed and it felt oddly like walking around in any office building on a normal work day.

Finally Kestrel pointed at a door as they stood in a narrow service corridor. “On the other side of that,” he told them, “you’ll be about twenty meters from the command center. Then it will be up to you. There’s nothing more I can do for you, so I’m going to stay back here.”

“I can’t believe you could do this so easily,” Evan observed.

“The government has been complacent,” Kestrel replied. “For decades, perhaps they have known that their only enemies mean
them no harm.”

As Kate and Evan stepped out into the open space of the Situation Room, everything seemed to happen at once. The piercing alarms. Soldiers appearing out of nowhere, seizing their arms. The mystified look on the face of Colonel Ellis as she repeatedly sent commands to a wrist control, clearly expecting some calamity to be visited upon them from their Stewart monitors.

The governor arrived. “What is the meaning of this?” It was a rhetorical question.

“Governor, you need to hear this,” Evan told him. “It might be the most important thing anyone ever tells you.”

“They have caused us nothing but grief,
” Erickson declared, starting to lead Rezar back to the heart of the command center. “I have the deployable asset inventory ready for your review.”

A cloud of advisors accrued around the governor.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Colonel Ellis told Kate and Evan. “This way.”

“But we have to tell him! Kate’s idea could save us!”

“This way. And clearly we’re going to have to do more than monitors.”

Suddenly Evan shouted out. “Governor! Yes you! Still being led around by the nose I see! Let them take you down the next path to disaster.
Don’t bother listening to the one plan that could save the entire planet.”

There was a commotion in the crowd. For a moment Kate caught a glimpse of Rezar’s face. Anger was there, but something more.

“But there’s good news!” Evan continued. “History won’t know how you failed everyone, because we’ll all be gone.”

“You can stop now,” Kate told him. “The governor is coming back.”

The governor stopped a meter away, arms crossed. “You have sixty seconds,
” he said.

Evan looked to Kate.

She gathered her words, knowing she had one chance. Nothing philosophical or spiritual, on pain of death. She had learned to bottle it up, when it really mattered.

In the most direct possible terms, Kate related her idea to the governor and his staff. They had a few questions, but mostly they attended carefully. Sixty seconds passed, and then another minute, and another, but Governor Rezar stayed with them.

“I do have to point out one thing,” Kate concluded. “My informati
on is a few days old. As of that time, Paul Ricken’s plan was to arrive two hours from now.”

“So really, it’s just delusional optimism to imagine that this ship will arrive, and that we can use it to fool Affirmatix,” Rezar said.

Kate was aghast. Would the governor turn away from their one hope? She prepared an outburst.

“Then we must proceed,” the governor declared. “Get this Denison of yours in here right now. We’ll start a draft of the cover message based on what you know of the target ship. Let’s edit the cover on this screen. Get me some story artists to craft the news item to be sent from the incoming ship. And Admiral Incento, lift the embargo on nonessential communications. We’ll need lots of traffic, so that this specific message doesn’t stand out. Identify the best stations and remaining ships to transmit to the Green glome emergence.”

“Yes sir.”

“This could be our last shot. Anybody have a better idea? Last call.” Rezar looked around the situation room.

Silence, except for the low background chatter of staff, doing whatever it was that staff always does.

They got to work.

To Kill Again

Captain Roe was no stranger to death. He had killed. When he was a young man, he had killed in person, as ordered, to win the battles of the day. A series of promotions meant killing by proxy instead. Giving orders that would be carried out by younger men as he had once been, or by machines.

That was all long ago. For the past four decades, there had been no war. His role as a peacekeeper, or enforcer by turns, was safer, and easier on the soul.

Roe had been spending the last few hours considering whether he would need to kill, one last time.

In person.

Roe had watched as Lobeck had configured the D6, routing all control of the weapon through the bridge of M3120, their ship. It was a departure from standard procedure, which mandated that any such weapon must be able to be independently controlled from no less than three locations. Lobeck was serious about control. By him.

Roe was a soldier. That meant many things. Duty. Willingness to do what needed to be done, without flinching. Willingness to sacrifice.

It also meant rising above what he felt.
Frustration at being a rent-a-crew, no matter how big and powerful a rig he drove. Visceral dislike of Vice President Arn Lobeck. The edge of rage at the way Lobeck made sure Roe always knew he was a rental.

None of those things mattered.

In order for Roe to consider his orders to be lawful and thus to follow them, Roe simply needed to know that his commander believed the orders to be lawful, and was not suffering from a serious loss of judgment.

Lobeck had been skating close to the edge
. The nuclear strike had been deeply troubling, a stunning overkill. However, no uninvolved civilians had been killed. Roe himself had committed worse.

Now the plan to use the D6, and kill fifty million civilians.

It was not the largest genocide in human history, although it would be in the top ten list. All to keep a secret.

Roe had listened carefully to Lobeck’s logic, as they prepared to deploy the D6.
Lobeck presumably didn’t know that his own life depended on the soundness of that reasoning. For Roe, it wasn’t just a question of whether to obey orders. Roe knew that certain people could not simply be disobeyed, or blocked. With someone like Lobeck, if you crossed him, he would come after you until the end of your days. Probably cause that end, in fact. The two options were to obey his orders, or to take him out.

In the past few hours, Lobeck had deployed his own personal
security guards in critical areas of the ship, including the bridge. No other weapons were allowed. Obviously this was to assure complete control of the situation, when it was time to activate the D6.

Hubris. An experienced captain does not lose control of his ship so easily. If the moment came, Roe had several methods available to do what needed to be done.

Roe had listened carefully. Very carefully, to every word. He pondered the justification.
In essence, the risk was that if the secret were let out, civilization would unravel.

Would that actually occur? Roe had no idea. He would not pretend to be an expert on such a matter. He just knew the standard for a lawful order.

If he had a lifetime, Roe would not be able to catalog all of the things that he considered to be wrong with Lobeck. The problem was that, as far as Roe could tell, Lobeck’s judgment and reasoning
were entirely intact. They were certainly consistent.

Declaring an order to be unlawful was a lonely road, one that went against the grain of the culture in which he had lived and served for decades. To go down that road, Roe had to be certain. He would have to see clear evidence of a serious loss in Lobeck’s capacity for judgment. And Roe couldn’t find that evidence.

Based on everything he knew at that moment, Roe planned to obey orders.

Cowardice, perhaps
. It was strange, how it was easier to kill fifty million people by issuance of an order, than it was to face down one man, who stood only three meters away.

It was not too late to change his assessment. There was still a little bit of time.

Roe proceeded to deploy the fleet.

Breaking News

As their ship arrived in the Kelter system, Captain Paul Ricken was already up, issuing orders, some of them at Tal, most of them unnecessary. Everyone went about their business.

Tal Broker’s business was communications. This included navigation and negotiations with traffic controllers, transmitting the ship’s wares, and ship to ship conversations.

He was hailing Abner House, taking some satisfaction in having started the action seconds before Ricken had ordered it, so he could say “in progress”, which really annoyed Ricken
. Broker did things like that when he could.

At that moment he saw the message on his board.

There was no mistaking where the transmission had come from. It was in Ricken’s own tearoff code number 2132, ringingly identified as such en clair. How could Denison be so stupid?

Everyone was stupid. Ricken was a jerk. Denison was broadcasting his knowledge of Ricken’s
tearoff codes to the whole system. What a disaster.

Something else was wrong. “There are a zillion ships out there, sir,” Mohanty, the navigator, was saying. “They’re covering the exit glome
s and englobing Kelter Four. It’s a military maneuver!”

“Is there shooting?” Ricken asked.

“None detected at the moment, sir, but there is debris from what might have been a battle. And there is a nuclear
signature on the surface.”

“Can we glome out?”

Mohanty shook his head. “No way, sir. No glome is close enough, and they’re all blockaded.”

“Hail the nearest ship,” Ricken ordered.

Tal’s hand had cut off the hail to Abner House. He had to read the message quickly. There must be a reason Denison had sacrificed a major secret that he, Tal Broker, had stolen for him. Where could he read it?

“What’s the delay, engineer?” Ricken was glaring at him.

Screw it
. Tal engaged the algorithm, sending the output up to his screen. It would be recorded on the worm, but with any luck, if this turned out to be nothing, he could doctor the worm later. He had done it before. “Circuit problem, sir,” he said. “Have it clear in a quarter minute.”

Ricken’s stream of verbal expectoration faded as Tal took in the message.
“Life or Death Emergency. For the sake of many lives including yours, imperative that you include the attached missive as a headline news item straight from Green. This is no joke. Do anything necessary to include this item, even frank discussion of your status. I will pay any reasonable amount to Ricken in exchange for including this item.
Will fully compensate you for resultant trouble. Do not communicate with me prior to transmitting item. Do it. Seconds count. Denison.”