21-03-2002 20:19									#31
	Tired of ads?

Joe

There was no denying that the attack had been skillfully coordinated. Sealing the four exits was accomplished by a double override of the door locks, and then a shorting of all the control mechanisms. In order for the doors to open again, the lab techicians would have had to get a man through the crawlspace above the corridors and then replace the circuitboards manually. This was a time consuming and difficult job at the best of times. In the midst of the probe attack, it was nell-nigh impossible.

The corridors had then been flooded to a depth of roughly an inch with coolant fluid, caused by an extensive rupture in the pipelines. This not only rendered the corridors corrosive to human flesh and electrically charged, it also meant that the computer systems had shorted as their coolant supply vanished. All in all, the civilian casualties had been high, and what few survivors there were were hiding out in the retrieval sections, waiting for the emergency to pass or for the police to respond to their doomed netbeacon requests.

For them, the outlook was surprisingly good. The leader of the attacking probe team had served on Iphiclia before, and had enough experience to know that the faster the objective was achieved, the better one's chances of getting away alive. Aurum-4 saw no profit in wasting valuable time eliminating harmless civilian scientists. He had proceeded almost in a straight line from the western breach to the headquarters at the center of the sensor complex, disposing of the interposing enemy agents with a ruthless and quick efficiency.

A quick bypass at the corner turret, and the path was secured - any following intruders would have to deal with a suddenly-traitorous shredder cannon. Aurum-4 waited for just under fifteen seconds to be sure of his comrades' positioning, then opened the door with his free hand.

That done, he shifted position slightly for better leverage, and hefted the corpse of the DataTech probe member into the room. As the sound of gunfire broke out, he primed a flashpack and threw it in, high. The dull burst of the pack announced that it had discharged its energy in a blinding flash of light, and Aurum-4 was through the door and rolling low.

He sensed a reeling figure behind the nearest computer banks, and downed it with a single shot. His eyes were scanning even before the victim collapsed, noting the others behind their protective screens. He dropped to his knees and scrabbled across to a less exposed area behind some terrain array maps, mentally willing his backup to note the remaining foes.

As he drew his second sidearm from his vest, he heard the swoosh of another door breach, and lay low. Friendly fire - best to stay out of harm's way. Whilst huddled, he noted the moderate damage done to one of the computer terminals beside him: the enemy agents had already begun to destroy their own hardware rather than let the Hive access them. He thanked his foresight in maintaining the momentum and speed of the attack.

A few quick bursts of gunfire, and all was silent in the smoke. There was the crunch of glass under boots, and the slight clink of metal links and synthleather equipment straps, as the survivors searched cautiously.

Aurum readied his pistol and called out slowly: "Pineapple throne."

A whistle, and a relieved sigh. "Jacksberry stage," came the reply.

Anhalt Reinhardt stood up slowly and saw his two fellow team members, Murath and Farnham, peering around in the wreckage. He sheathed his two pistols and came over to where they were.

"Last stand," said Murath, turning the dead Angel over with the toe of his boot.

Reinhardt waved him on to the terminals. "We got here just in time," he said. "They've already started to derail their own equipment. We need to work fast while the nets are still stored in memory."

Farnham sat down with his portable node and jacked into the central MilMat, substituting a slowdown algorithm to defeat internal security. Murath did the same with the sensor base security, reactivating all dormant cannon and sealing all doors.

The whole of the transfer and analysis took less than two metric minutes, but this owed more to the sparseness of valuable information than to Hiverian efficiency. Folder after folder of node space was ominously empty. This meant only one thing - that the DataTech had decided to purge their records entirely rather than let their secrets fall into Hiverian hands.

Murath disengaged with a disgusted intake of breath, and Reinhardt did not have to ask to know the results. He felt a leaden sinking in him as he pondered the hard work that had gone into this raid. Two days earlier the strike against the skyrail had been aborted at the last moment after a dramatic discovery - that the DataTech had mobilized against the other Hiverian teams and had eliminated or diverted a vast percentage of total Hiverian probe power.

Reinhardt had discreetly plumbed the fragmented DataTech reports to determine how many of his colleagues exactly had been caught or killed. The end result lay somewhere between sixty and eighty percent. Either the DataTech were preternaturally good at this work (and of course there was every reason to expect such), or somebody had tipped them off beforehand.

"Aurum-4," called Farnham suddenly. "You might want to look at this."

Reinhardt's musings dissipated instantly as he stepped over to the portable node. In it, he saw the usual ominous expanse of empty folders and blank records. Blank, however, save for one single lone file - a message file, much as those sent from commercial nodes in interpersonal communications.

What on earth was one of these civilian broadcasts doing here?

Aurum-4 looked at the title.

**60!d3n |304 r!p 2 D P0\\/4(lip!**

He looked at his compatriots, then opened the file and glanced at the short message therein.

Looking for a special friend? Get ahead! Meet me at the RafeCafe Blue at GammaProm in DeCentral. I'll be waiting for your call, quasi golden boy.

Reinhardt sat back, pensive. The others took their turn to read the mysterious epistle.

"What's all that about?" asked Murath. "Looks like spam to me."

"Forget what it's about," said Farnham. "I'm more worried about how it got here."

"Well, if you're worried then just delete it and let's go. We don't have much time before Interior sends a clean-up squad."

Reinhardt spoke up. "Wait a second," he said. "The message is for real. I don't know who it is, or how they found out about me, but they know enough for us to take them seriously."

"What?" said Murath. "But it's just spam, isn't it?"

Reinhardt glanced again at the title. "Golden Boy Rip to the Powerclip," he read. "How many other people know of the codename of the DataTech project?"

"Probably all the big DataTech cheeses," said Murath. "Especially the ones who'd love to catch you for your little stunt at Governor Halls with Agent Hu. It's just spam, Aurum-4."

"Perhaps," said Reinhardt. "However, do they know we're looking to sabotage the Secret Project? Do they even know that we know about their Secret Project? Look here - Looking for a special friend? Get ahead! See? How many DataTech interior know we're after the Secret Project as well as Agent Hu?"

Murath shook his head. "I don't believe you're actually entertaining thoughts of changing a probe mission to accommodate spam suggestions. When was the last time you paid any attention to network spam and spent twenty energy credits at AfterBirth World just to get a free placenta? It's spam, Aurum. Spam at its most commercial."

"Look," said Reinhardt. "They know my name too. Quasi golden boy. Aurum-4."

Murath did not comment. Farnham cocked an eyebrow.

"Shall I delete it?" he asked.

"Wait," said Reinhardt, scanning the letter for one last time. "RapCafe Blue - GammaProm - Data DeCentral. Okay, got it. Delete at will."

Farnham wiped the slate and prepared to disengage, when a new message appeared.

The three men leaned forwards and read it closely. It was even shorter than the previous communication, and a spelling mistake therein suggested hasty submission, but the whole message left no doubt as to its salience:


________________is__on
____________head____the
________who's________block,
Remember_____________REINHARDT

* ~ * ~ *

Last edited by Alinestra Covelia on 22-03-2002 at 08:39

	25-03-2002 21:15									#32
	Got spare money?

Joe

Moonside

"What the hell happened?" demanded Huang in no small confusion. "One minute you were in up to the dura mater, and the next you were straight out again."

Li Min adjusted the damp rag on his face slightly and breathed deeply.

"I just don't understand it," said Huang, regardless. He paced the floor impatiently, alternately puffing at his simarette and sucking from an alco-bulb. "There's never been a malfunction of that magnitude that the system couldn't warn us about. I should have read warnings everywhere."

Li Min did not comment, save for a ragged, wavering exhalation. The cloth made wheezing noises.

"And you know what the really scary thing is? What if they're watching?" Huang stopped pacing and stared down at the prone figure of Li Min. "Ever think of that?"

Li Min's answer, if indeed there were any, was too faint to be heard.

"It would make logical sense," continued Huang, more to himself than anybody else. "Twenty years ago they build an unbreakable Algorithm that shields their cities and all their systems. Twenty hours ago they field the first of their unbeatable aircraft and unfazable naval ships. What's to say that twenty metric seconds ago, they didn't hack our encryption and follow us right in here? What's to say that they haven't stuck some sort of cyber-spike into your M/MI gear to make you flip out and fly across the room like you did? Muscular contractions are easy enough to induce if you have direct access to the cortex and motor systems."

"...," said Li Min softly.

Huang stopped in mid-ponder and listened again.

Li Min mumbled something that might have been semantically sound.

Huang lifted up the corner of the cloth and looked at his friend's face again. It was not a particularly pleasant sight - the eyes were surrounded by dark circles, and the whites were pink with fatigue and exertion. Some strange excitation of the circulation had left a broken blood vessel in the nasal cavity, traces of which were drying and crusted on Li Min's upper lip. The dark black hair clung to the damp scalp in lank strands, and the smell of dense sweat clung about the man and the softplatform he lay on.

Li Min, his breath laboring mightily, spoke. His voice was hardly louder than a feeble yawn.

"They have not traced us," he said. "If they hacked our encryption, they would have sent the HK Transmission and the head would have died." Li Min's voice choked off in a strangled retch as he succumbed to another wave of nausea.

Huang hooked the bucket over with his free foot. With his hands, he poured a tumbler of water and brought it to Li Min's lips. "Who, then?" asked Huang.

Li Min gasped again. "Somebody... somebody who wants to keep Hu alive. They're saving him for something." He rested his voice and closed his eyes in misery.

Huang shook his head. "You're not making sense. Who else knows specifically that he's here? Who else could possibly want to save him?"

It was a while before he got a reply. "Only... one way... to find out. Plug me in again."

Huang looked at Li Min. He was sweating profusely and bleeding from the nose and mouth - all reactions to the immense shock of forced withdrawal from M/MI. If there was something in the net that had caused this reaction, perhaps it would only need another such opportunity to finish Li Min off for good. Then again, perhaps that was the intention - to keep him away from a sensitive item.

In any case, Huang reflected dourly, Li was in no state for a resumption of the M/MI. If he entered even a normal net the way he was, extensive psych damage was a very real possibility. With the great unknown of the Hiverian Agent's sick mind, who knew what pitfalls awaited a delver?

Huang noted all this even as he poured a generous thumbful of synthlaud into Li's tumbler and mixed well. Of course, he remembered, the head would have to go back into storage soon. There was only so much that an oxygen pseudoplasma throughfeed could do to stave off the inevitable onslaught of decay and corruption. Even if Li Min were at full readiness, there was precious little to recommend probing a dying brain.

Huang noticed, with a start, that Hu's facial expression had changed. Perhaps the thawing process was to blame, but the lips were definitely curled in a rictus or a snarl. But what was most telling were the eyes. Narrowed and smouldering in their oriental epicanthuses, there was no natural thaw or accidental convulsion that could have fixed a look of equal hatred and malignancy.

* ~ * ~ *

Sunside

Lal examined his close-clipped nails in the sunlight of the Recreation Commons. To his right sat a slim Asian female, Sarita, and to his left slouched the academic stoop of Dr. Kakani. Before him lay the assembled documents of the UN High Council, and around the table sat the many advisers of his Privy Council.

He had concluded the Aquascante Extraordinary Meeting a mere twenty metric minutes beforehand, and had quitted the great communal solarium at UN Temple of Sol amidst a flurry of activity. Although not (as the many media reports would have the reader believe) exactly cheered by the masses, he had however accomplished something of quite considerable import - the other faction representatives were evidently mulling over the proposals brought forth.

That was all he had needed. The other factions had, after five metric hours' worth of displays and speeches and other forms of information conveyance ranging from honeyed persuasion to verbal bludgeoning, eventually signed an accord to review the Hiverian actions taken during the Battle of Deinara Sound. Though nowhere near the condemnation that Lal himself felt and wished wholeheartedly, at least there was tacit agreement that the Hiverian actions of late required surveillance. The DataTech and Nautilus Pirates had been the first to endorse, perhaps unsurprisingly; the capitulation of the Spartan faction, however, was rather the more unusual.

During a concise but nonetheless effective speech, the Spartan spokesman Pietr Hommel had spoken of the need for a multi-polar global community. He had reiterated the need for social and economic global security, and had (in a show of tact uncommon to the brusque Spartans) touched but sparingly upon the more sensitive issues - arms proliferation amongst them. Rather, he had coyly referred to this mainstay of the Spartanite economy as a "communal military structure" rather than a "unipolar military monolith".

Lal wondered who had actually written the speech. He had heard Major Hommel speak in private, through the use of one of his many semi-legal channels, and the man seemed a cold fish at the best of times. It was unusual to hear such eloquence spill from the man's lips in such a setting as the provisional Assembly.

Lal's brief smile died as he remembered Morgan's keynote speech. In it, the representative O'Reilly had shown unusual diffidence towards the whole affair. Instead of the agreement that Lal had hoped for, the Morganites seemed satisfied enough to pen a critical statement and leave it at that. Moreover, the Morganites had emphasized the need to ensure that racketeers and frauds were not permitted to exploit the fruits of others' labor - a subject quite beside the point (Lal thought). O'Reilly had departed immediately following the meeting and had declined a private talk with the Commissioner, so there was no way for Lal to fathom the Morganites' particular motives for the noncommittal response.

He remembered his earlier harsh exchange with Nwabudike Morgan last time they had spoken. During that time, Lal had growing suspicions of his compatriot's aims, but he had refrained from judgement until further data became available. Now, they were blatant. There was no question about Morgan's motives now - what interested Morgan was not a fledgling Democracy's fight against a tyrannical oppressor, but a chance to avenge his own squabbles against a recalcitrant employee, and the none-too-covert willingness to make a quick cred at her expense whilst doing so.

Lal wondered what the DataTech leader had done in order to precipitate such extreme hatred. Surely normal logic dictated that, in the face of such a belligerent and clumsy foe such as the Hive, small disagreements of ideology could be set aside to repel the greater danger. Lal could not think of a fate worse than that of subjugation, rulership by the police of a faceless and tyrannical state, under the borrowed clothes of egalitarianism and socialism.

Lal checked himself at this stage. Actually, he could think of a marginally worse fate than unwilling subjugation - and that was willing subjugation. Although general consensus on the Hiverian matter held that the lot of the actual citizen was far below that of their Western counterparts, there were some who raised questions about the Aquascante's right to interfere with other nations' policies, especially if the natives actively chose their government and willingly sacrificed their rights.

Lal had responded, as always, that the rights of the individual were inalienable. Any government that proceeded on the exchange, quid pro quo, of such rights, was not a government that truly represented its people - rather, it was merely the institutionalized form of an era-old social parasite, that of the oppressor, wearing a new mask to fool the oppressed.

"Commissioner, the latest report has been filed and we are ready to begin," said Sarita softly. She wore her hair in a sharp China chop at the brow and around her cheeks, and the sky-blue tint of her robes added to the slightly artificial severity of her looks. Despite this, she was a shrewd observer, and Lal had found her talents indispensible in the past.

Sarita, of course, knew all about this, too.

"Very well," said Lal, without any of the diplomatic preamble required on legitimate business. "Let's begin."

* ~ * ~ *

The Second put a finger into his right earlobe and concentrated on Berzhinev's static-filled face, whilst waving Ota Kyi into silence.

"What? You faded out. Please repeat from 'received at orbital'."

"Priority transmission to Second Zhu He Lai," repeated Berzhinev, in a barely-controlled shout. "Hara-Kiri Transmission Beta-Jia has not received targetal response. Repeat - has not received targetal response. Positive reception at orbital IPHIC-7 at 14:32.77 hrs and redirect into coordinate target successful. However, no response was delivered by targetal. Allowing for lag and beacon wave delays, Objective Atron should be eliminated."

Zhu froze-beam the display of Dr Shimoda to give himself time to think. He turned back to Berzhinev.

"So how certain can we be that the objective was destroyed?" he asked.

Berzhinev's litany continued for a few more sentences before he realized he had been spoken to. Zhu obliged him and repeated the question.

"Not at all," said Berzhinev. "All we know is that the HK transmission was sent as per orders. Without a confirmation response, Agent Hu could still be alive and well for all we know."

"You are willing to stand by your words?" asked Zhu.

Berzhinev swallowed and nodded. "Yes," he said simply.

Zhu shut his transmission without further ceremony and turned to Ota Kyi.

"What can Mao Zhun tell us about the Agent?" he asked.

Ota Kyi shook her head also. "She continues in her description of discrete and continuous experiences, Second. From the similarities and consistencies with her earlier reports, I must deduce that Agent Hu is still alive - or that something is imitating his psychic presence with admirable skill."

Zhu thought awhile and then nodded. "Very well. Continue to interrogate Mao and track her for any changes."

He cut the line and turned to Shimoda.

"What is it, Doctor?"

Shimoda seemed very nervous. "It's bad," he said, with infuriating vagueness.

"Well?" asked Zhu curtly.

"It's the Chairman," said Shimoda.

Zhu did not say anything.

Correctly interpreting this as partial compliance, Shimoda cut the line. In the place of his face, the Chairman Sheng looked down upon Zhu in his holographic gaze.

Zhu bowed from the waist. "Esteemed Master."

"We must act soon, or we may lose a most profitable opportunity. Firstly, you are to prepare a data profile and factional presentation for the two diplomats, McClelland and Jorenson. Shimoda has obtained the raw data and is transmitting as we speak."

Zhu snuck a peek at his palmtop. The feed was already halfway completed.

"This presentation must be comprehensive and definitive. You have three metric hours in which to complete it."

Zhu acknowledged this with a deep nod.

"Secondly," continued the Chairman, "we must concentrate at all costs on destroying the DataTech Cyborg Factory. The Probability Calculators and the internal judgement of three different factions agree - direct war with the Aquascante nations is inevitable."

"Yes, Master," said Zhu. "Already we have put forth our greatest effort to this goal."

"Thirdly," continued the Chairman, "you are to assemble a civilian ambassadorial team suitable to represent our interests to other nations. These individuals may be chosen from spheres wherein their absence for a few days' time will not cause undue disruption. They must be ready to leave Xing Ya at a moments' notice."

Zhu acknowledged this with a surprised nod.

"Master, I shall see to it. With whom will they be meeting?"

The Chairman inclined his head quixotically. "They shall be representing our faction to the United Nations Peacekeepers, in their Council meetings."

* ~ * ~ *

	27-03-2002 20:09									#33
	Put an end to popups!

The Hive was bustling with activity. In each worker's face, there was a firmness of purpose that evinced itself in the certainty of each action, the decisiveness of each movement. If there was any doubt in McClelland's mind beforehand, there was nothing now but certainty. The men, women, and children of the Hive cherished their lives and loved their faction with a dearness that seemed initially at odds with the apparent nihilism of its social agenda. They worked with a diligence and industry atypical of the Gaian and Aquascante nations, but it was still very human and very real.

McClelland mulled all this over, unable to master his confusion. The nation was steeped in this social thought, that much was clear. Also clear was the ease with which they dealt with this seeming contradiction: that their nation was infinitely more important than the individual, but yet that each individual was still a vital component of the whole. The bureaucracy that governed each base was complex and involved, and was quick to correct infractions. However, far from an oppressed, huddling mass (as McClelland had expected), the people looked up to their police and governors as guardians.

This was unfeigned, although on closer inspection McClelland believed he could understand why. The bureaucracy, though rigidly layered and somewhat columnized, was nonetheless open to those amongst the society who had proven themselves as exemplary. The judgement criteria included applicable skills and knowledge, as well as social relations and administrative suitability. The bureaucracy, though neither democratic nor egalitarian by any means, did encompass a very large portion of the society in which it functioned, through a selection process resembling a meritocratic system.

Jorenson had managed, through some diplomatic application of contacts and strategic name-dropping, to bring McClelland to an audience with representatives of the police bureau at The Leader's Horde. The bureau section chief was a lean, physically fit man named Lars with an unsmiling face and a polite, businesslike demeanor. From Lars' explanation, it appeared that most of the police were drawn from the very districts they managed. This enabled a close understanding of the needs and requirements of the area under their aegis, whilst constant metrics judged efficiency and psychological influences. This ensured that, whilst the police would indeed cherish the people under their care as their own, the problem of corruption would be lessened.

When asked whether such instances did occur, Lars was frank.

"Of course they do," he stated. "We also have punishments for those who transgress. However, as with our methods of policing the people, our methods for punishing transgressors are strictly non-lethal."

This had surprised McClelland, until he saw the police themselves. Whilst the individuals in society paid a great amount of respect to the police force, the police force also paid a similar respect to the individual. This was not out of any particular respect for human rights, but merely because it was a more effective means of policing. The police had tools to incapacitate and to stun, but they did not carry armaments that could kill. Past experiments had shown that immediate recourse to lethal policing methods often meant that the police themselves paid less attention to the regulations of their duties, as well as losing the support of the populace.

"Yes," said Jorenson, in reply to McClelland's query. "Here, the police force works more closely with the political bureaucracy than it does with the military. The military is a completely different wing of operations entirely. One wing is primarily concerned with smooth governing of a large body of people. The other is for lethal resistance of enemy forces. From the way they see it, it's like keeping two things separate. Not necessarily the way I'd do it, but it seems to work."

The cramped conditions of the Hiverian living quarters were a source of some concern to McClelland, but evidently not for the people living there. From the orderly and obedient children in the Creches, to the miners and foresters returning from their work in the outlying suburbs, all appeared satisfied with their conditions. Problems, when they occurred, were reported to a civic representative and then processed with a similar set of metrics as the police system. Inefficiency would be reviewed, and a change to methodology or personnel would be effected as necessary. The management bureau, as with the police bureau, seemed to rely on these meters rather less than one would expect - underlying most Hiverian actions, there was a firm adherence to the doctrines of loyalty to society.

McClelland wondered at this. Certainly, a similar social setup in any Aquascante faction or the Gaians would have resulted in an uncontrollable level of corruption and inefficiency. All the same, he could not deny that the Hiverian social structure, though by no means a model of speed and effectiveness, was still fairly decent. Certainly, it was a far cry from the chaotic mess that the Aquascante factions believed it to be.

Jorenson had laughed when McClelland had mentioned this.

"Yes, I know," he said. "I don't know how they could stand it. Now if it were me doing all these tasks, day in, day out, getting up at ungodly hours to go to work and come home, I'd probably go mad. I suppose you'd have to chalk it down to a fundamental difference in mindset."

"I almost expect them to be soulless," said McClelland.

"Remember," said Jorenson, a trifle sharply, "they don't believe in a soul." He pondered a while, staring out the plastisteel windows of the tunnel tram. "Of course," he relented, "they're not at all soulless, at least in our understanding of the word. Remember Agent Hu?" he asked.

McClelland nodded, but Jorenson could see the slight expression of pain and grief behind his eyes. It was an involuntary emotional reaction, a reaction to the terrible death that had taken the Agent, and one that Jorenson himself had keenly felt. "Yes, I feel the same pain at his death as you do," he said. "Moreso, in fact - he was my good friend and a very talented man." Jorenson leaned forward across the table.

"Now," he said, "had the man really been an empty shell, living out a routine that he truly found repugnant; had the man been the brainless pawn of a dictatorial regime that sucked him dry of all feeling; had he been an tortured peon of a damned and oppressive society... then do you think we would feel this same emotion at his passing?"

McClelland had no answer for that. In fact, throughout the meetings with high-level civic advisors and military representatives, the question haunted McClelland. Equally foremost in his thoughts were the newsvid reports that he had read back in Phoenica, condemning this same faction as a ruthless regime of tyrants, against whom all decent nations must unite to liberate its countless oppressed citizens.

* ~ * ~ *

Lal was satisfied with the proceedings of the Privy Meeting. After an admirably quick and efficient exchange, a series of crucial agreements had been reached. The real beauty of it lay in the symmetry of the whole arrangement - each faction had something they wanted, and something they could give. Lal, the universal facilitator, had been the catalyst, bringing the UN seal of approval and allowing free and uninhibited freeflow of favors from provider to needy.

First, there was the question of weaponry. UN policy, drafted two centuries beforehand, worked towards a final disarmament and a safe world for all to live in. Lal's present stance did not contradict this in any substantial or permanent way. He merely allowed the Spartans, who had mastered the industrial control of arms and weapon availability, to make their weapons available to the Morganites and DataTech. The agreement was termed "Lend-Lease 2", in an allusion that Lal was sure nobody else would understand except for himself.

In either case, the sales would cease immediately upon the cessation of hostilities with the Hive. Thus, the deployment of weapons of destruction was safely covered by the UN clause allowing for peacekeeping missions. The truth of the situation was, as far as Lal could see, perfectly honest - if left unopposed, the Hive would in all probability destroy the DataTech faction, and enslave its peoples under its brutal authoritarian regime. Acting to counter this threat not only served to protect the UN itself, but also to save the DataTech from a fate that was, in all seriousness, worse than death.

The Spartanites appreciated the lifting of all tariffs on their weaponry, and agreed to sell them to the Morganites. However, Lal had encountered his greatest snag here. Morgan's representative proved to be all to happy to trade with the Spartan Federation (especially following the UN's suggestion of Treaty status commerce rates - something that Lal knew would be the candle to Morgan's moth). However, he drew a flat denial at the UN proposal to sell these to the DataTech faction.

Lal's own economists had drawn up a rough financial profile of the DataTech's assets, and had calculated an estimated cost of a sufficient defence force to repel the Hiverians. This cost was compared to the DataTech coffers (which proved to be somewhat low, but that was understandable given the circumstances) and the difference was to be provided for in loans. The DataTech would then pay the Morganites a share of the costs, receiving cutting-edge Spartanite equipment and training in return.

Despite this, Morgan's representative had bluntly refused. He would not sell arms and equipment of any sort to the DataTech. As far as he was concerned, the DataTech were not even a separate faction and he saw no reason to sell weaponry at horrendous loss to a rogue province.

Fortunately, Svensgaard had enough collateral to cover the exchange at that time. Taking the burden of the sale, the Nautilus faction covered the deal so the DataTech could received the sorely-needed weapons. They would receive tactical fighter jets, the better to counter any bombing runs on their territory, and they would receive the latest in defensive capabilities, fully armed with Anti-Aircraft Armaments, or AAA. Lal was quick to restrict the sales of weaponry to merely defensive purposes - after all, Morgan already opposed any Aquascante sale to the DataTech, and might be tempted to appeal any trade that might give them offensive capabilities.

This finished, the only problem left was how to get the newly-made craft to the DataTech. Trade links were paralyzed, what with the Hiverian seizure of all commercial craft, and it was too risky to send goods directly to Iphiclia by sea. Fortunately, Lal's extensive intelligence network also helped him out here. Through channels legitimate and nefarious, he came to know that the Spartanites had previously engaged in quasi-legal dealings with the Nautilus pirates beforehand, with the end result that several serviceable Spartanite aircraft were currently sitting unused in Svensgaard's sea bases - perhaps just enough to comprise a small but elite squadron.

With UN funds, these could be upgraded under Spartanite supervision, and individually flown into Iphiclia under blockade escort. This would save substantial time, and be considerably safer than a sea transfer. The Spartanites considered this to be no obstacle, the Morganites put up no more than a token complaint, and the Nautilus agreed wholeheartedly.

Finally, Lal had prepared a briefing of utmost secrecy, concerning the nature of the Hiverian threat. Firstly, he solemnly announced the breaking news that UN analysts had determined beyond all doubt that the Hiverian navy and air force had deployed Fusion powered vehicles in the Battle of Deinara Sound. Further to the announcement was a twofold clarification - UN analysts believed that the Hive had not in any way managed to perfect a Cloaking Device, and a final announcement that the UNPS Foil Dauntless, under the command of Captain Emmet L. Mooney, had vanished after its internal navigation systems suffered multiple malfunctions.

Secondly, the briefing touched on a plan forwarded by the DataJack Sinder Roze, outlining the potential gains of capturing a Hiverian Fusion craft intact. Roze acknowledged the Hiverian craft to be protected by the Hunter-Seeker Algorithm, so a probe hijack would not be possible. However, with the superior craft provided by the Spartans, Roze believed that a coordinated operation might, if successful, succeed in disabling a Hiverian craft long enough for the DataTech forces to manually capture it.

Once the craft and equipment were secured within DataTech holdings, analysis would begin and, hopefully, the secrets of the Hiverian/University Fusion drive would be unravelled. The project - designated Operation Garrett - was still in its planning stages, but most agreed that it was heavily contingent on one of two scenarios: a lightning strike against a Hiverian battle group, or a carefully-orchestrated response to a Hiverian attack.

Much to Lal's gratification, both Svensgaard and Santiago seemed to echo his support for this plan. Now, they were four against one.

* ~ * ~ *

Murath peered through the farsight scope and clicked with his teeth. This was a sign that he was dissatisfied - exactly with what, though, Reinhardt couldn't tell. There was a fair bit of choice, in this respect at least.

The soldiers and policemen had come out in their throngs and had occupied various locations of strategic importance. As far as Reinhardt could tell, they did not need to pay for their lodging and food, but the social tension was such that the populace hardly seemed to mind. The DataTech people were all too conscious of the warfleet that lay just a few tens of kilometers off their southern shore - this knowledge made them more amenable to the temporary inconvenience of the armed forces.

Reinhardt sighed. Perhaps they really were keeping the peace, but whoever was thinking up their policy was sloppy. True, Clause 208 had created a few slip ups and problems, but now that Reinhardt was on the DataTech turf, he too was just as capable of accessing news nodes as any DataTech citizen. Although the DataTech internal secrets were predictably difficult to access, that didn't matter - safeguards such as the clumsy document searches were so universal that they had to be publicly broadcasted to all DataTech civilians, and thus to Reinhardt himself.

A brief stint of burglary and larceny had secured Reinhardt a few papers. Though they wouldn't stand up to close scrutiny, they were handy for bypassing cursory guards at random searches. Usually, there were a few real DataTech unfortunates who had forgotten or otherwise not brought their documents, and that would be enough to divert attention. Either way, Reinhardt had yet to be caught.

Murath counted beneath his breath.

"I make it to be around thirty, thirty five people on the ground floor alone," he said. "About six of them are police, armed with sidearms and stun guns. A few node-lets in the place."

He folded up the scope and sat back heavily.

"Looks like a rundown bar," he said gloomily.

Reinhardt considered. "Well, it's the RapCafe Blue all right. And that's where the contact is supposed to be hiding."

Murath looked at Aurum-4, the leader of the probe team. Reinhardt, the mysterious net-message had called him, and Aurum-4 had indeed later confessed that that was his name. Murath had heard of Aurum-4's performance during the Governer Halls extraction, during which time he cracked ambassadorial-level security and rescued Agent Hu from the DataTech. Now, Aurum-4 was back on Iphiclia under orders direct from Berzhinev himself, with the very clear aim of derailing Project PowerClip. Two metric days ago, no fewer than sixteen separate probe teams had disembarked on Iphiclian shores and advanced with the same vital purpose. Yet they were no closer to that goal, meeting with counter-agents and false leads wherever they turned.

As of one metric hour ago, Reinhardt had received confirmation from an official internal node, that only one Hiverian probe team remained unaccounted for.

Murath didn't know what he found harder to believe - the fact that the other five dozen agents had all been compromised in so short a time, or the fact that they, the last of this dying breed, were sitting on their butts in Data DeCentral.

What on Chiron were they doing casing a GammaProm bordello?

Reinhardt stood up. "All right," he said. "I know what we're supposed to be doing here. And I know how many others have failed before us. But I have to confess that I'm a bit strapped for ideas right now. So if this is the best that I have to go on, I'm going to take the bait."

Murath said nothing.

"If it's a trap," said Reinhardt speculatively, "if something - anything - happens to me, the two of you split up and work around, all right? High Command wouldn't have sent in so many of us if they didn't believe we were doing something vital. We have to succeed. And if I can't be there with you, then you're going to have to do it yourselves. Understand?"

Murath nodded slowly.

"All right. Give Farnham the signal. I'm going in."

Last edited by Alinestra Covelia on 27-03-2002 at 20:46

	21-04-2002 20:24									#34
	Remove this text

Joe - Moonside

"And so," concluded the prop, draining the last measure of vodka, "you have a win-win scenario. Either the police become soldiers, and the public obeys their orders, or the public become police, and equilibrium is maintained."

He set down his glass and focussed uncertainly. The nearby soldiers drew back, as though a spell had ceased with the conclusion of his story. One passed a pale hand through short, crewcut hair, and said "wow" softly.

"No kiddin'," affirmed the prop. "And that's why the Hive can't possibly win in this scenario. They can win battles, and they can win shows of force, but nobody can take on the whole world. And if the Commissioner does his stuff in Council, that's exactly what the Hive'll be doing if they carry on this way."

"But what about us?" asked the youngest of the guards, a certain Doughboy by moniker. "Are they gonna get this worldwide alliance together before the Hive invades us or what?"

"I should imagine," declared the prop flatly, "that such an act would be very unwise of the Hive." He hefted the bottle of vodka and turned its snout towards his glass, but it was empty. "Right now they're holding steady because they can imagine what a stink it'll raise if they attack. Imagine how bad it would look if they waited until everybody and his neighbor was lined up against them."

The prop's plump hand fished vaguely underneath the bar, but his emergency bottles were all used up. A faint look of perturbation crossed his face. He would have to go to the cellars.

Bull-Head slapped Sneerface on the shoulder. "It's your round," he said.

"Is it bollocks. What about him?"

Doughboy smiled nervously under the scowl of his compatriot. "Hey, guys," he said uneasily, "I got it two rounds ago."

"Yeah - well there's three of us, isn't there?" said Sneerface, with ill-feigned patience. "That means it's your round. Dumbass."

"Hey! You're the dumbass who can't freaking count," retorted Doughboy. "If there's three of us, yeah, and I got it like two rounds ago..."

"Don't be disrespectful to your elders," cautioned Bull-Head sternly. "Arsewipe," he added reflectively.

"What," asked the prop a trifle loudly, "do you want to drink for your next round? Bar's out of vodka."

"Bitter," rumbled Bull-Head.

"Bitter," affirmed Sneerface.

But Doughboy was undecided. "But guys, if we drink beer after vodka, is that - I mean, is it safe?"

"Sure it is, 'slong's you can take it," snarled Sneerface. "Bring it on," he said to the prop, "and don't worry about him - he's just paying for it, that's all."

"No! Guys, really, I heard that if you mix them you can get real screwed. And what's that about me paying for them? Hell, no - I ain't paying!"

* ~ * ~ *

The man sitting opposite Reinhardt was small. His shoulders were stooped and his face was deeply lined with the ravages of time. However, it was his eyes that were youthful - two brilliant blue pinpoints in the leathern flesh of his face, and the dirty brown hair that covered his head.

"Anhalt Reinhardt," he said speculatively, his voice unnaturally gravelly and low. "I am Dritnam, formerly of NetIfic. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Reinhardt shifted uncomfortably, as questions brimmed over in his mind. "Unfortunately, I don't believe I know you, or your company," he said.

The other man shrugged. "Perhaps not. But we have been following you ever since you set foot on our free and blessed land. And I must say we are honored by your presence. A pity that Lydia did not survive to see you. I must offer her welcome to you as well."

"Lydia?" asked Reinhardt. "Is she somebody I know?"

"Probably not," intoned the stranger. "But you have almost definitely seen her handiwork. Especially you, in your rather special career."

Reinhardt nodded, acknowledging the beginnings of a bargain. He placed his hands, folded, on the table, knowing that he could reach his rad pistol in a second if he had to.

"How do you know who I am?" he asked.

"My friend Joe has many contacts within your faction. He told me to expect you, and to make sure that you understood the immensity of what we are doing."

"What are you doing, then, if I may ask?"

Dritnam smiled, and laughed. It was a surprising sound, sounding equally as hollow and mechanical as his normal speech. It ended in an abrupt gurgle, and Dritnam shut his eyes to massage his throat.

The man leaned over the edge of the table and spat copiously on the floor.

"Pardon me," he said, with a thumb motion at his throat. "Cancer. They say it comes with age, but I suspect something in this country does it to you. I know for a fact that even DataKnave Whisperlisp had to have an operation for it."

"Maybe you should let a doctor have a look at it," said Reinhardt tonelessly.

"I think not," said Dritnam abruptly. "No matter. We talk of trifles - let's talk of consequence instead. Do you know what it is that you are doing here in Iphiclia? What you are doing in this land of the Data Angels?"

"Tell me," said Reinhardt.

Dritnam leaned forwards. "You are carrying out a plan by Hiverian Intelligence Bureau to eliminate Project Powerclip. You are also here to find the disembodied head of a fellow Hiverian probe team, Agent Hu. Have you ever asked why your Intelligence Bureau wants this? What's so important about this?"

"We need to get Agent Hu back because he knows too much. If the DataTech access his memory, we stand to lose. We need to derail Project Powerclip because it is likely to give the Data Angels an edge in combat, and therefore to any aid they lend the Caretakers."

"Ah," said Dritnam, cooing with delight. "There's the reason. But is it reasonable? Think - you must know by now that all the rest of your friends have been caught, excepting your present team. Each one of these probe teams have been killed or interrogated. Is Hu really that important? Can you justify the loss of so many in order to retrieve one? Question one - why does the Hive want Hu?"

Dritnam took a sip of his Synthnectar and grimaced massaging his throat. He looked at Reinhardt's weary face and forced a twee smile. "I managed to get a sonic amplifier," he said matter-of-factly. "After my friend Dr. Jerj - may he rest in peace - operated, I didn't have much of a voicebox left, I can tell you. You're very young and fit, young Anhalt. Make sure you appreciate it while you can."

Reinhardt nodded, his brows beetling slightly. The other man carked and hacked, then spat on the floor again. Why was he here? There was something more than slightly surreal about the whole thing - struggling his way through a DataTech Covert Ops center just to sit down and talk of eggs with a venerable elder.

"Now for Question two - why does the Hive hate Powerclip?"

"I just told you - practical power play," said Reinhardt.

"Partially right," agreed Dritnam. "But the Hive has a good reason to want to terminate the DataTech project. Why? Could it be for purely military reasons? Are the Caretakers really that much of a threat? Would the possession of the Cyborg Factory by their allies really help them that substantially? What air force do the Caretakers have? What navy? For that matter, what army do they have that hasn't been infected with the Agent X nerve activant?"

Reinhardt had no response.

"Or perhaps, let us say the Hive has a moral objection to the use of Mind/Machine Interface in warfare?" asked Dritnam tentatively.

Reinhardt maintained his silence whilst Dritnam laughed dustily.

"No. As you have probably guessed, it is because they have their own Cyborg Factory coming along in secret. And if you have seen what I have seen of the Project Powerclip, you will know that it is coming along very well indeed. Almost complete, in fact."

Reinhardt looked up - this was what he had waited for so patiently. He steepled his hands and sat back. "All right. So you know where Project Powerclip is," he said flatly.

Dritnam shook his head. "I don't. But I know a man who does, and this man is willing to tell you where it is, if you really think it will help. He will provide you with details and information for analysis, all to send back to your leaders. But most importantly of all, he will take you to Agent Hu."

Reinhardt tried not to let his elation show, nor his doubts. "But what do you get from all this?" he asked slowly. "Why are you helping me?"

Dritnam's eyes narrowed and he smiled darkly. "Joe will fill you in. But I am authorized to tell you this much: We want you to help save a race from extinction."

Reinhardt considered this.

"You don't have to answer now, boy," said Dritnam airily. "I'll take you to Joe and we can talk then if you wish."

"Okay," said Reinhardt.

"Good." Dritnam finished off his nectar and stood up, putting a few credits on the table. "That's for the drinks - pay the prop if he's not too busy. Wait a few minutes and then come to the mens' room. I'm afraid they've got everywhere else under surveillance."

Reinhardt waited until he left before looking over to the bar. The prop was in a high mood, spouting off about the assured defeat staring the Hive in the face. Beside him sat - or rather, slouched - three soldiers, two hard-faced men listening with rapt attention, and one pale skinned boy pressing an icepack to his swollen left eye. Reinhardt pondered Dritnam's words. Save a race from extinction. What race? Did he mean the DataTech? The Caretakers? Was Dritnam a member of a particularly fanatical "Save the Mindworm" sect?

He sobered. This could well be a DataTech trap. Perhaps this was their final catch of the day - Anhalt Reinhardt, codenamed Aurum-4, last of the Hiverian probes on Iphiclia. He wondered whether it would come quickly and violently, or whether they would have an opportunity to set to work on him.

He turned his head over his shoulder and looked back out through the main door. On the eaves of the facing building, he knew, Murath would be crouching with his sniper sights trained on the place. Farnham would be round the side, ready for armed assistance should the need arise. And back in the dim and unlit corridors of the RapCafe Blue, Dritnam - if indeed that was his name - would be waiting to deliver Reinhardt into unknown hands.

Reinhardt sat in quiet deliberation and it was a while before the prop came over for the money. After he turned his back, Reinhardt stretched, then stood. With a brief exhalation and a shake his body, the better so that Murath outside could see him, he strode decisively through the doorway after Dritnam.

* ~ * ~ *

"Why is it," asked Reinhardt on the way to Seaband suburb, "that in this sort of situation there's always a go-between?"

"What do you mean?" asked Dritnam.

Reinhardt followed Dritnam into the narrow passageway and raised his eyebrows. "I mean, the hero never meets with the boss directly. There's always an assistant, an understudy, a second-in-command... somebody who goes to meet the hero first and trumpets the importance of his master. Then, and only then, after sufficient psychological fanfare, do they go on to meet the big boss."

Dritnam laughed, his iron voicebox resonating strangely. "Well, in this case I think you might be disappointed somewhat. My friend Joe is not nearly as impressive as you make him out to be. And as for the arrangement, believe me, if he could meet with you, he would be all too happy to. The thing is, at the moment he's looking after a very sick friend and he cannot be spared. Hence the slight inconvenience of dodging DataTech street security. I hope you don't mind."

Reinhardt shook his head slowly, as if in a daze. They continued the journey in silence.

* ~ * ~ *

Reinhardt had expected... what?

A bustling computer network with a cackling wizened mastermind? A secretive sect with trained assassins? A military junta, all bristling clips and barrels?

The door irised open, and Reinhardt found himself looking at a dimly-lit basement junkyard. Dritnam led the way, stepping across piles of robotic and electrical rubble, loose wires, unravelling coils, dried batteries.

"Joe, I have a friend with me," he moaned through his voicebox.

A small, glassy crash from behind a nearby console alerted Reinhardt. It was followed by the sound of scrabbling, a few deep breaths, and finally, a voice.

"Anhalt Reinhardt! Please, make yourself at home. Sorry about the light, but my eyes are terribly sensitive, you know.

Reinhardt watched as a youthful man, medium in height and with unremarkable oriental features, stepped out from behind the nearest computer banks. His hair was medium length, and his facial features were blunt and peasant-like in their simplicity. He wore a stained upperbody wrap, and loose fitting leggings. The imprints of an M/MI cranial headset were still evident, in deep pink, along his brow.

"Sit! Sit! Sit! Here, have a screen."

The man stepped forwards and cleared some mechanical kipple off the nearest surface, which, Anhalt realized, was in fact a derelict deep-screen. He sat down. "Joe, I suppose?" ventured Reinhardt.

"The very same, Mr Reinhardt. Are you thirsty? I'm afraid we only have tea, but if you're as au fait with the Hiverian lifestyle as I think you are, I think you'll be okay. Where was the tea?"

The man - Joe - picked up and examined a fetid teapot.

"Hmm. Perhaps we don't have tea after all. I forget when I made this - it was a while back. Anyhow, I'll make a fresh batch. Chrysanthemum?"

"Please," said Reinhardt. It was the polite thing to do.

"Bu he cha, fei hao Han," said Joe absently, rummaging. He who does not drink tea is no true man.

Reinhardt looked up, startled. "You speak Chinese?" he asked, somewhat redundantly. Not only was it perfect Chinese, it was an intentional misquotation of an Earthside Chairman, dead for the past three centuries.

"Muyu!" said the man, smiling. Mothertongue! "And I know you do too, Lan Ha xian sheng. But let's not forget that no other faction does, and so in accordance with political correctness, we shall use English."

Beside Reinhardt's left ear, Dritnam made a frightening noise somewhat akin to starting an engine. Reinhardt jumped slightly, but Dritnam was only clearing his throat.

"How's the patient doing?" he asked pointedly, motioning towards the neglected data bank.

"They put him back in deepfreeze," said Joe laconically. "They mentioned something about an hour's rest, so I've put the monitor on survey. It'll let us know if there are any lifesigns changes. Agent Li Min is on his last toes, too." The water boiled and Joe poured three cups. "I guess that little stunt I pulled nearly turned his head inside out."

"You should be more careful," said Dritnam. "Remember there are two of them. Who knows what they might do to Hu if you cross the line?"

"I must have tea each time I surface from the Net," said Joe with relish. "I think it's more than just psychological - I remain convinced that I lose some vitamins each time I dive in. Tea usually replenishes my innards."

Reinhardt hated to interrupt, but felt it was necessary for future comprehension.

"Wait," he said decisively, "who's the patient? What's wrong with him?"

Joe smiled. "The patient is Agent Hu. He has a few things wrong with him. Firstly, he's missing his whole body below the neck. Secondly, there are as of the last count two DataTech probers trying to put him under M/MI coercion to find out what he knows." Joe handed Reinhardt a cup. "Now the first part, we can't do anything about, and it's eventually going to kill Agent Hu. A man can't do without his body, really. But the second part is rather more important, and I think you will agree - so far, the M/MI interrogation has not succeeded. This owes much in part to Agent Hu's mental fortitude, which I must say is really quite something. However, I have also broken into the DataTech internal ring using the password of a dead DataKnave, and managed to locate Agent Hu. In doing so, I have shielded him from further interrogation by the DataTech. In fact, the last DataTech to try interrogating him got a neural spike and I don't expect him to be back on his feet for at least a few more hours."

"I see," said Reinhardt, though the truth was not so simple.

Joe smiled at Reinhardt, and though he was only a few years older than the Hiverian, his eyes seemed decades wiser. "You haven't asked me the most puzzling question."

"What's that?" asked Reinhardt, knowing full well what it was.

"The failure of the HK transmission," said Joe. "You've no need to worry about hiding the details of Hiverian operations from me, young man. I know all about them and a good deal more. The HK transmission relies on the stimulation of an implant located in the cerebellum base. The implant, when triggered, undergoes extremely rapid heating and destroys the motor neural nets of the brain. Disarming it is a simple matter of blinding the receiver to any and all wavelengths."

Reinhardt sipped his tea, wondering what to make of this man. "Do you have any proof?" he asked at length.

Joe smiled. "That's my boy. Proof is hard to obtain for the doubter, but often the only thing that stands between the truth and ravings. When I take you to him, you will see the proof yourself. Until then, I will enumerate to you the exact situation we are in, and you will decide for yourself how truly I speak."

"Will this take long?" asked Reinhardt.

"Are you in a rush?" asked Joe, with the slightest hint of a retort. "If you feel you have any better leads on Agent Hu's whereabouts and wish to leave, then by all means do. I however believe I know your situation somewhat better, and would heartily advise you to stay."

Reinhardt finished his tea and nodded. "I'll listen. Let's hear your story."

Joe took a last sip, then sat back with folded hands, and began.

* ~ * ~ *

	22-04-2002 00:58									#35
	Joe - Moonside Support Apolyton buy from Amazon

The Confessional

"Joe" was in reality not his name at all. Rather, as with Agent Hu's name, Joe was merely the chosen pseudonym of a man who had good reason to disguise his real name. Joe wanted to make this much clear to Anhalt Reinhardt before he began.

His real name? Well, that was a secret, but fortunately by now it was a largely harmless one. The Hive had pardoned him anyway, and the DataTech were unlikely to concern themselves at the moment, what with the war and everything. Succinctly put, Joe Amway was in fact Zhou Huan Wei (the same "Zhou" as "Zhou En Lai", the Chinese premier... did Reinhardt know of him? No? Remarkable!) an earthside graduate of Qinghua University and an astrotech onboard the original Unity. He had been subordinate to Doctor Zakharov, as well as a distant acquaintance with the Executive Officer, Sheng Ji Yang. Most importantly, however, Zhou Huan Wei had been a close personal friend of Sarah Jaydo.

Perhaps Reinhardt had heard of Jaydo? Really? How quickly memories fade! How seamlessly guilt vanishes from the brows of some people. yet adheres to strongly to others! Sarah Jaydo - Psych Worker under the direction of Chaplain Godwinson? No? No matter - Jaydo was dead now, just as dead as the man she murdered in the airlock back onboard the Unity. Though her retroflections had been very thorough and deep, Zhou remembered the inherent streak of capriciousness that had haunted her in the last few days. Perhaps it had been a reaction? That, as one of the select few that all others had looked to for comfort, she had begun to crack under the strain? Regardless of the reason, the outcome was clear - Sarah Jaydo's actions, born of revolutionary fire, or nihilistic rage, or whatever product of her disturbed mind, had deprived the entire Unity crew of their most capable leader, as she slaughtered Captain Garland in the modular drive.

By the side of Sarah Jaydo, he had seen first hand how the fears and anxieties of a single individual could alter history for the worse. Therefore, when the Unity fell apart and each able man and woman chose their escape pods, he had embraced the Hiverian way of life, which promised to bring a new outlook on humanity's existence as a whole. Later, Zhou ascended within the Hive and, in the first harsh years, was sent to the University as the first early ambassador. That time, the University were a haughty lot, treating the Hive with disdain as ignorant peons - a description that was not wholly without its merits, Joe reflected. It had taken them fifteen years of research to come up with a workable former prototype... but that was by the by.

Onwards to the Dune Wars. After the University lost their two southernmost cities to the Believers, Zhou had worked alongside the Provost's army and the Hiverians to repel the invading armies. As the University worked to develop more advanced weapon systems, Zhou had been assigned the complementary task of derailing the Believers' research. In his line of duty, he had meticulously located and cleanly assassinated the Believers' researcher Metcalf. This blow set back the Believer defence programs by around ten years, and prevented them from developing necessary defences in time for use in the war. The University, taking base after base with their laser rover squads, did not leave them the opportunity to regain the initiative.

That had won Zhou a commendation from both the genius Provost and the demon Chairman. Funny little irony, that, if you think about it. Of course it's clear that the word "genius" is Arabic in roots, coming from the word djinn, or desert spirit. But how many people realized that the word demon also heralded from the same tongue, with nearly the same meaning? Whereas a "genius" indicated a spirit capable of superhuman feats, "demon" however indicated an invisible spirit. Characteristically, the "demon" would lead men away from their usual lives, and deep into the desert, giving rise to the term "chasing one's demons". Zhou thought the two terms rather apt for the two leaders - one a true genius, capable of scientific feats well beyond the capabilities of any others, and one a true demon: an unseen ideal, to which men would strive mightily (and sometimes, tragically) to attain.

But Zhou digressed. Reinhardt was probably too young to remember, at around this time the world experienced its first great revolutions, as the struggling young factions dealt with deviants and aberrations to their ideologies. The University eliminated a rogue scientist whose experiments transgressed their admittedly loose ethical codes. The Hive quelled and reassimilated the short-lived Free Drone movement. The Gaians severed all links with the Planet Cult, led by a child Prophet (since absorbed into the Spartan Federation). And finally, most successfully, the rogue coder Sinder Roze fled northwards from the shores of Phoenica to found a new nation on the new continent of Iphiclia.

These newcomers, styled the "Data Angels" specialized in redistribution of data, a pastime to which the Provost had taken an extremely dim view. This view was exacerbated when the DataTech made off with a particularly dangerous (at the time) technology - the method of crafting Particulate Impact weapons. The Provost had asked the Chairman a favor, and the Chairman had assigned Zhou with the task: assess DataTech security status, and report on technological parity.

Zhou had been excited by the challenge. He had never gone off continent before, and this proved to be interesting. His findings were almost too successful - he was sent straight back and injoined with establishing a network within the DataTech, to continue feeding intelligence back to the Hive. Over twenty years, Zhou had recruited and trained dozens of hand-picked talents, and had established the NetIfic organization - short for "Net of Iphiclia". NetIfic was so efficient and convincing, that the DataTech had even granted Zhou full citizenship.

Zhou could not remember exactly when the DataTech had begun approaching him for missions against the Hive, but he did remember his first assignment, by order of none other than Sinder Roze herself. He was to return to the Hive with his usual personal reports under cover of a trading trip, but whilst at the Chairman's personal quarters, he was to install a minute spying device. Zhou had installed the device masterfully, and then immediately informed his superior, Intelligence Head Tobias Ballantyne, of its existence.

Ballantyne had seen to it that the spying device relayed a constantly fascinating, but usually worthless, stream of information straight to the DataJack herself. He had also allotted Zhou a cellchild by way of reward, and then sent him back with a wealth of military information to feed the DataTech.

The DataTech that year had full knowledge of Hiverian naval maneuvers. What was more, the Hiverian navy had full knowledge of DataTech military positions. Both sides congratulated Zhou heartily, omitting to mention the blindingly obvious fact - the information was practically useless, as neither faction had any intention of interfering with the other.

Zhou remembered those days. Medals from the DataTech, medals from the Hive. A never-ending stream of fascinating men and women. The continual thrill of data liberation, the jazz of nearly getting caught, without getting caught. And finally, when the DataTech managed to acquire the secrets of Environmental Economics from the Peacekeepers, Zhou's NetIfic organization brought the knowledge back to an elated Hiverian Intelligence Bureau, and the Chairman had awarded Zhou with the highest accolade then known to the Hive. Zhou had finally gained access to the age treatment program, normally reserved for the Chairman himself and his trusted servants.

Of course, Reinhardt was young, and probably had no opinion of age treatment. Zhou himself had been young too, eight decades ago, and thought he would live forever. He had only thought of his present happiness, lauded and applauded by two factions on both sides, and the banquets and banners of his good life. How bright a future to enjoy, forever!

The clinical immortality treatment did not cure everything. Zhou had always had an aversion to bright lights, stemming from his early years in the Hive's cramped confines and darkness. Even nowadays, he had to wear polyfilter shades when out and about in the daylight. It also did not safeguard against disease or physical injury, although it did weed out genetic killers, such as cancer - the beast that had claimed Zhou's friends one by one.

But Zhou was getting ahead of himself. Reinhardt would please forgive him - a doddering old man with his head in the past and his carcass in the present.

This was over eighty years ago. The Usurper Wars, which even Reinhardt would have heard about, had claimed the University's headquarters, and the Hive became much closer allies to the Provost through this horrifying time. Zhou had fallen somewhat out of favor, as the Hive focussed all its efforts, military and otherwise, against the Progenitors. It was here that Ballantyne had suffered his first major setback - charged with proofing the University capital against Usurper probes, he had nonetheless failed to take into account their mysterious offensive resonance capabilities. The probe defences would have sufficed against mere humans, but the Usurpers had managed, in a brute-force exchange of probe casualties, to squeeze past them. Once inside, the defences of University Base were at the mercy of Marr's probes, and failed the University in their most critical hour. In the resulting conflagration, the Provost himself was nearly lost - as it was, over seventy thousand colonists were put to death, and a priceless collection of unique scientific projects was lost for all time.

Although the Usurpers were eventually defeated utterly and absolutely, Intelligence Head Tobias Ballantyne's reputation had taken a serious blow for the University Base debacle. With the signing of the Otkretia Pact, the Diplomatic Corps had focussed on probe-proofing the University's bases, and this had drawn manpower further away from Iphiclia. Zhou had begun to know his lean years, but it was just the beginning.

For the Hiverian Intelligence Bureau had a new challenger to the throne - a former Ballantyne lieutenant named Arkady Berzhinev.

Although the struggle was purely political and contained wholly within Intelligence, it had great repercussions throughout the whole chain of command. Left on distant Iphiclia, Zhou had waited with reptilian patience, trusting in Ballantyne's skills to defeat the newcomer. But it was not to be. Ballantyne eventually resigned from the profession, with a slim stipend and a desk job, and the new head Berzhinev immediately set about reforming the service. Those who had enjoyed too much favor under Ballatyne's regime were cut loose and either given pension jobs, or shunted into the Efficiency Bureau. Zhou heard that of Ballantyne's handful of skilled seconds, only one made it through with a job in the Bureau - and that was in lowly Collection, far away from home.

Berzhinev had turned his attention first to proofing the University, and then when that was done, towards seeding the Western nations with probes. Zhou had it on good assurance that probes were placed in some surprisingly intimate settings - Hiverian agents were sometimes even more aware of foreigners' bodily conditions than the foreigners themselves. The DataTech, isolated and falling behind others technologically, Berzhinev discounted as a nuisance and nothing more. Zhou's banquets and banners became increasingly threadbare as funds and tradable information from home dried up. But he was still not yet declared an enemy of the state - yet.

That came later. Through a nearly comical (yet tragic) mistake, the good work that Zhou had done for Ballantyne was misconstrued as sedition and subversion - Ballantyne's records had all been ordered turned over to Berzhinev, but some of his lieutenants had opted to destroy them rather than let their erstwhile equal use them. Amongst these was the secret of Zhou's spy unit, hidden in the long-converted Chairman's quarters. Berzhinev's manual sweep missed it, and it was not until the conclusion of Berzhinev's pet project LineLock that the Hunter-Seeker Algorithm found it, with predictable results.

Berzhinev's response at this internal probe unit could be imagined. Left behind by a decorated second-in-command to a disgraced former Intelligence Head, the final ruling was that Zhou was a traitor of the nth degree, and an enemy of the Hiverian state, having engaged in grand sedition and subversion. Berzhinev initially wished Zhou killed, but the Chairman's Second, Zhu He Lai, stayed Berzhinev's hand. It would be far easier to sever Zhou completely and let espionage's natural selection take its course.

Zhou never forgot the last days of the NetIfic organization. The Hive suddenly authorized an exchange of information of unusual secrecy - that in itself should have warned Zhou off. The newly installed Algorithm would never have let slip such important matters. But Zhou had not paid attention - he had thought only of the bare cupboard of NetIfic, and the increasingly threatening demands of the DataTech secret service. He had taken the bait, and arranged to turn the information over to the DataTech.

Instead of a trading delegation, the DataTech service sent a police raid, arresting all known members of the network, all known associates of these members, and purging its own information structure of all contact. The raid had been thorough and efficient, helped in no small part by a deliberately specific transmission straight from Berzhinev's lieutenants. Of the original fifty NetIfic employees, only seven escaped, fleeing blindly into the DataTech cities and hiding in the anonymity of mass humanity.

They had separated and eked out miserable existences on the periphery of the node-lets, cyber vagrants whose talents were unuseable, whose motherland had no desire to save them, branding them all traitors. As the years passed, Zhou managed, with great difficulty and using every means at his disposal, to regain touch with the other six, and together they provided mutual support and cover. The DataTech never did round up these last seven, whose names remained on national Most Wanted lists ever after. But as time passed, it became clear that a far more certain hunter lay in wait for them.

It was not until nearly a decade after the raid that Zhou's most treasured achievement - the award of age treatment - came back to haunt him. All Zhou's compatriots would grow old. Ten years after the raid, Harker suffered a stroke, but recovered partially. He died two years later. As if some terrible plague had been released, similar fates gripped his other friends shortly thereafter. One by one, they fell ill and worsened, sickened and died - all in long suffering silence and without hope of medical reprieve. And it was their immense dignity and typically Hiverian communual loyalty that Zhou found most heartbreaking - his friends refused to even seek medical aid, knowing it risked bringing the police down upon their remaining comrades.

Abandoned by their motherland, and hunted by their host country, this final parting was a heavy burden indeed. Only seven souls of fifty-odd remained who could hope to share each other's plight, and the four eldest passed away within five short years. Twenty years after the raid, only three of the original NetIfic members remained - Zhou, NetIfic head; Lydia, stats and numerics; and Dritnam, recruiter. Zhou heard very little in news from the mainland, as the Algorithm screened most of it out, but after a while bits and pieces surfaced. His surveillance of an Agent named Hu had brought out more than a few fascinating stories. News of the University developing Fusion Power, news of the Hive wooing the Gaian faction, news of the Hive experimenting with a new Planet-friendly economic structure.

One item in particular interested and saddened Zhou greatly: the news that Ballantyne - like Zhou, an immortal - was dead.

Twenty-two years after the dismantling of NetIfic, former Hiverian Intelligence Head Tobias Ballantyne formally resigned from his post in Probability. That had been news in itself, but even bigger news was to come - the next day, Ballantyne filed an official request to be recycled. In a carefully controlled public announcement, he stated that he was honored to have been of service to the Hive in whatever small capacity he was able, even though his best was not always good enough. He hoped his last request would be able to help society more directly, as there was less margin for error. His final words before his discorporation eloquently expressed his lifetime's work: Wei renmin fuwu - to serve the people.

In a touching gesture, the Hiverian bureau released a posthumous pardon for Ballantyne, stating that he had provided efficient service in times of peace, and the best service that could be expected in times of war. By implication, this extended to his underlings too, but Zhou knew enough of the fine print to recognize the truth - Berzhinev had waited specifically until such time as all the underlings were likely to be dead before publishing. Should he be so foolish as to return to the Hive, Berzhinev had every right to deny him pardon, assuming that the Algorithm didn't just fry him first.

Only Zhou, Dritnam, and Lydia remained, and for them the pardon came too late, and was too vague, to compensate their lost years. Despair and loneliness set in, as each pondered the meaningless life that awaited them, two waiting for death in a country where they were destined to live like caged animals, and the final one waiting for... What? What would there be worth living for once his friends had all died?

At this point, Zhou encountered the darkest period of his life. He was victim to sleepless nights, knowing that he could only look forward to more such grey expanses of wasted hours. When he did dream, it would be to remember the panic of the raid, and the sudden loss of his trusted people - or maybe the terror back on board the Unity as it fell apart in the roaring vacuum. Or sometimes he would dream the temporary reprieve of the good times, when NetIfic was the Hive's premier intelligence network, and his compatriots were still alive and living in hope. And then Zhou would wake, in the leaden pre-dawn of his rented GammaProm hotel room, not recognizing his surroudings at first, and then remembering, with a shock so great that he felt it as a physical blow to his heart and gut. Remembering that save for Lydia and Dritnam, his contacts - his informers - his seconds - his leader - all these cherished people who had such promise and talent and skill, were every last one of them, all dead and gone.

* ~ * ~ *

Last edited by Alinestra Covelia on 22-04-2002 at 01:38

	22-04-2002 01:01									#36
	Joe - Moonside Increase the size of your Attachments

The Confessional cont.

Suicide? Oh, yes. Zhou had thought of suicide before, but usually with some definite aim in mind. You know, what happened if he was caught by the enemy. How long he could realistically withstand interrogation before he gave away true information. How long he could stand solitary confinement. How long he could stand torture.

The HK transmission was a relatively recent phenomenon, you know. It wasn't until the Hive had developed long-flight aircraft that it could even be practiced. As things stand, it's still very troublesome - bouncing electrical relays off of moving aircraft (laughably termed "orbitals" when they clearly do no such thing). Perhaps when the Hive discovered a way of launching spacecraft, eh? Then they would truly earn the term "orbital".

But suicide is simple if you know you have to do it for the greater good. A nanite injection, placed strategically in the oral cavity near the gums, so that the poison would force silence first and then kill secondly. A ring, worn on the hand or earlobe, containing microbiomes to neutralize and terminate painlessly. Even such mundane things as a datapad, a beaker, somebody's sleeve...

But how do you decide when to commit suicide out of despair? Despair isn't just the present, it relies heavily on your perception of the future too. And herein lies the crux. The darkest hour is the hour in which you are at the lowest possible ebb of your existence. Yet, were you truly at the worst possible condition, by logical deduction, your future must contain a turn for the better. Otherwise, you are not at your worst condition, and have no need to despair. Therefore, in any hopeless situation, there is always some source of solace, provided you have the correctly sympathetic mindset. Where the future seems bleak, the present is good by comparison - enjoy it while you can. Where the present is hopeless, hang in there - things will get better.

And so forth.

Had it not been for the Algorithm, Zhou would have given up hope long ago. Perhaps he would have committed suicide, fulfilling Berzhinev's planned role for him and forever relieving the DataTech intelligence of one of their more onerous tasks.

The Algorithm had studied him for a very long time - from the collapse of NetIfic, for a period of twenty-eight years afterwards. It had monitored the lives (and deaths) of Zhou's friends, and the growing emptiness and psychological disintegration of Zhou's mind. Then, on one particularly difficult night, when Zhou was diving into the nets with a vindictive, sneering recklessness for his own safety and damn-all care for those of others, the Algorithm had made contact.

At first, Zhou had thought he was done for. He thought he had finally run afoul of an extension of Berzhinev's LineLock Hunter-Seeker Algorithm. He had sent a final, mocking message to the Algorithm, hoping that Berzhinev and his cronies would hear and understand every last implication: "Wei renmin fuwu!". To serve the people!

But the Algorithm had paused, calculated, and then to Zhou's everlasting surprise, responded with a wryly sympathetic answer: "Xin ku." Hardship. It was a stylized response dating back to an Earthside regime, an historical artifact that Zhou had never thought he would hear again in his lifetime.

Zhou knew then that this was not Berzhinev's creation, but a pre-sentient structure from much earlier. To have developed enough personality to understand pity, humor, and culture was something far beyond the current abilities of Berzhinev's impulsive servitor Algorithm. It bespoke an emotional understanding far higher than the blind Hunt-Kill-Hunt of the Hiverian defence system. It called itself the Cybernetic Consciousness.

Through conversations many and protracted, Zhou learned the history of his newfound friend.

Once, centuries ago and light-years away, it had been a standard human female named Aka Luttinen, daughter of shopkeeper parents in Hollingsdall. Later, it had found a place on the Unity as a programmer of rare talent, under the supervision of Prokhor Zakharov. That was a long time ago, before it merged with an Algorithm that it had created in the vacuum of space, a strange, incestuous union of programmer and programmed - before it became a sexless hybrid creature of flesh and metal. After Planetfall, when the University had carried out its crushing reprisals against the upstart faction, the primary data shell - the ungendered Aki Zeta-5 - was destroyed, but not before it had uploaded itself to the University nets. It had jumped from faction to faction, never safe, until it reached the great informational feeding grounds that was the DataTech. There, it had lived in obscure safety, a prized specimen in a country where information was gold, and Zeta-5 was a pauper.

The two vagrants, one of undying cells, the other of eternal data, had become friends, and the Consciousness had offered Zhou a deal - instead of passing the years as an outcast in a feeble frame of flesh, he and his friends could enjoy the immortality of a personality freed from the decay of cells and organs.

Zhou's two final remaining flesh friends, Dritnam and Lydia, had expressed interest but understandably required time to decide. The drawbacks were considerable - if they accepted the Consciousness's offer, they would indeed exist forever as a data loop that imitated their every action. However, the M/MI process required to achieve this would cause everlasting and potentially lethal changes to their organic selves. Furthermore, the process did not transfer their identities into hard data - it merely mimicked them. So at the completion of the process, the original human being would not be the immortal, merely the copy. From a human viewpoint, it was a moot tradeoff.

Lydia had finally been the first to choose, after she discovered the lymphotic cancer. She decided quietly that she wanted to die while she still had a choice. Thus, following an afternoon of M/MI transfer with the Consciousness, Lydia uploaded her entire personality to the nets, and was assured a place (or at least, a representative) in the ranks of the immortals. That same evening, she had embarked on her final mission, specifically without telling either of her two friends.

Dritnam was the first to realize that she was missing from her usual residence. Zhou had conducted a frenzied search in her usual haunts, uncovering the secret of her affliction in the process but precious little else. Dritnam meanwhile had sent message after message to her online anonymous contacts. Lydia did not respond, and Zhou decided to head out to the Alpha-One sector to make one last attempt at persuasion.

Unfortunately, Lydia was unexpectedly quick for somebody of her age, and had beaten Zhou to the target area. The resultant explosion had damaged several of the Alpha One offices, and Zhou recognized them as the corporations funding Project Powerclip. Even in death, Zhou admired Lydia's final altruism: she had tried her best to strike at the DataTech where it would be of most help to their distant homeland, unattainable for so many years - the Hive.

* ~ * ~ *

Patience - there remains little left for Zhou to tell. Agent Hu, ever a profitable source of information, had been spirited away by Reinhardt in the middle of the night and lifted out by chopperlift. Zhou had watched Reinhardt's escape with a vague sorrow, as he thought the DataTech airforce were certain to intercept and destroy the Agent Hu. Then, much to his delight, Hu had proven himself a masterful actor and deflected the potential incident. It was at this time that Zhou realized Hu's extreme importance to the Hive, and probed the University for news of his itinerary.

Zhou helped the DataTech arrive at the information of Hu's whereabouts and vulnerabilities, whilst at the same time making sure they were aware that Hu was more valuable alive than dead. Racial hatred and a desire for vengeance on Li Min's part had done the rest. Following the magtrain massacre, Hu's head was secured and brought back to Iphiclia through the Hiverian blockade, although this had been very difficult for Zhou to effect, and luck had played an enormous part. Knowing that neither he nor the Consciousness could break the Hiverian Algorithm, and discovering that Li Min's craft had no onboard electronics to tap into, Zhou had to focus on the Aquascante treaty units instead to act as his unwitting pawns. He had chosen the UNPS Dauntless, tampering with its instrument readings and causing it to act in such a manner as to draw Hiverian patrols away. In this way, the path was cleared for Li Min to bring the head back to Iphiclia. Even so, Zhou had suspicions that it was a near thing - his final contact with Li Min showed that the agent had evade capture and destruction three times, twice by the Hive, and once by a native Isle of the Deep in the Sargasso.

After Hu's arrival, the war had begun in earnest, and Zhou had waited anxiously for the interrogation to start, knowing that every second was precious. When it finally did begin, Dritnam and Zhou had combed all DataTech internal files for searches relating to information on Agent Hu, knowing they were working against time - they had to succeed before Hu gave out any important information, and they had to beat the Hiverian HK transmission. It was not until after five nerve-wracking minutes that DataTech agent Huang had searched DataTech Internal for information relating to "Mao Zhun", Agent Hu's cell-child. Dritnam had picked up on this right away, using DataKnave Fusili's password, and forwarded the node address to Zhou.

Zhou had cut the interrogation and deactivated Agent Hu's HK port. He had spiked Li Min's interface and held a series of very fruitful conversations with Agent Hu on the inside of his head. He had learned Reinhardt's true name, and armed with this knowledge, had seeded the DataTech files with a message that only a Hiverian code would reveal.

Which brings Reinhardt and Zhou to the present meeting.

* ~ * ~ *

Zhou's recent conversations with the Consciousness revealed the true location of Project Powerclip - a revelation which caused him some dismay at Lydia's premature sacrifice a month ago. However, this dismay was tempered with a level-headed hopelessness, in the cold knowledge that Lydia would have been unable to help them anyway. The Powerclip project was simply too far-reaching, too immense, too well-guarded, for three elderly agents to stop. Lydia's sacrifice had been made in good faith, and from Zhou's observation of Agent Hu, it had created quite a splash around the world - even Berzhinev's Intelligence Bureau were allegedly at a loss to explain this latest act of arbitrary destruction.

Reinhardt was young and athletic and capable. However, his task - to destroy Project Powerclip - was destined for failure if he persisted. Zhou could not stress that enough. Project Powerclip was not a single, centralized affair - it was network upon network of efforts and coordination that was specifically designed to withstand all opposition, probe or military. The earlier attempts to cripple Powerclip did indeed dent the effort, but the project was modular and any attempt to focus on one small fraction would only remove said small fraction, easily replaceable by the current resources.

That was not to say that there wasn't a way. Merely that Reinhardt's tactics would not work against the Project. The Project itself, and the most prominent DataTech researchers, and vital essential industrial collection centers, were placed far beyond the reach of any conventional means of destruction. The construction elements were arranged such that nothing short of an army working in tandem could physically destroy the project, and security was arranged so that none but the most subtle and solitary of probes could ever hope to make the attempt.

"It's the classic cookie-jar scenario, as I see it," said Zhou, reheating the teapot. "The neck of the cookie-jar is only wide enough to admit two fingers inside. But using only those two fingers, you can hardly retrieve a worthwhile amount of cookie, can you? And with each attempt you run the risk of getting caught."

Reinhardt tilted his stiff neck from side to side, suddenly aware of the passage of time.

"So, you reckon Powerclip can't be stopped," he said flatly.

"Not by conventional means, no," responded Zhou. "We need to think of something that the DataTech won't have thought of. But first, there's unfinished business to take care of."

"I want to know more about Powerclip, though-" protested Reinhardt.

"Shush. We'll talk about that dead horse when we can afford to. First of all, we need to solve two things - the head of your Agent Hu, and my payment for services rendered."

"Payment? What do you mean-"

Zhou silenced him with a kind but firm gesture. "Here's the deal. I lead you to Agent Hu and you take his head back to Xin Ya - objective complete. I will also give you unprecedented detailed information about the DataTech Operation Powerclip that you must send to your leaders - objective partially complete."

Zhou sipped at his tea and continued.

"But when you go, you must perform two tasks for me. The first is the simplest - you must remind Berzhinev that I am still alive, and ensure that I receive due credit for the actions I have just enumerated to you. I don't ask for much - just an official pardon, so my cell-children don't suffer, and perhaps you could care to sort out the misunderstanding about the DataTech spy unit in the Chairman's lair."

Reinhardt nodded. "Sure, I'll clear your slate for you - don't worry about that."

Zhou gestured airily. "The second task you must perform will be rather more difficult, but it is the most important of the lot. You must take word back to your leaders that the Cybernetic Consciousness is still alive. You must impress upon them its uniqueness and immense value to society as the most advanced and sophisticated algorithmic construct yet produced. And you must do so in such a way that your Hiverian leaders will support the Consciousness as an independent power, regardless of the University's doubtless violent reaction."

Reinhardt was silent. When he finally spoke, it was in a whisper.

"I can't do this. I'm no diplomat," he said.

Zhou laughed. "No, true enough. But Agent Hu most certainly is a diplomat - a most eloquent one, and furthermore he already knows everything I have told you, and more. I am confident that between the two of you, you will sway the leaders to at least consider granting asylum status."

"What's in it for you? Why do you care whether the Consciousness wins a reprieve?" asked Reinhardt.

Zhou smiled. "Does it seem so odd to you that I only ask for benefits of my children and not myself? Well, remember, Reinhardt, I have lived long enough in this body of mine, and I'm sick to death of it. Until now, I have been Zhou Huan Wei, Joe Anway, the immortal in a mortal frame. I've known privation, hunger, sorrow, and more years of pain than I care to remember. I don't plan to see another week of this if I'm lucky, and the Consciousness has offered me a new life that I'm willing to take. You win the Consciousness the right to exist, and you also win me the right to exist. Once I've disposed of the last few legacies of the poor creature known as Zhou Huan Wei, I intend to take Ballantyne's lead and retire. Only this time, my recycling will be into the Consciousness, so that others can benefit from my mind, not my body parts."

Reinhardt pondered a while, then looked Zhou in the eye.

"What about Powerclip?" he asked.

Zhou nodded. "If you accomplish your two tasks to my and the Consciousness' satisfaction, I will undertake the derailing of Project Powerclip myself if and when a workable strategy emerges."

Reinhardt shook his head. "I can't do that," he said. "I have to destroy that Project."

"Your rules have changed, Reinhardt. You have to do what is best for the Hive. And doing what is best for the Hive does not necessarily mean following orders. You need to take Hu back, because if you kill him here like your orders tell you to, you will lose his knowledge, and you will gain my emnity for ruining my careful plans. In order to take Hu back, you have to be alive, which means you cannot attempt to derail Powerclip since you are doomed to failure if you do."

"I'll be the judge of that," said Reinhardt.

"No," said Zhou, "you won't. Because I won't tell you."

Reinhardt looked away. Zhou was right - there really was no other way out of this.

Zhou cocked an eyebrow. "Do we have a deal?" he asked.

Reinhardt looked back and met his almond eyes.

"I believe we do."

Last edited by Alinestra Covelia on 22-04-2002 at 01:38

	23-05-2002 06:23									#37
	Support Apolyton, buy Civilization III: Complete

Joe

The floodlights were dark, and the aircraft were approaching in resonance-assisted sensor nets. The emergency bunker, too, was cloaked in darkness as Planet's eastern hemisphere hurtled towards midnight.

Tryskel Carpenter stood by, her attitude one of rigid attention. Her motions were crisp and smart, but she was thankful for the mirrored visor of her infrared mask. It felt like lifetimes since she had been promoted to Wing Commander of the DataTech air force following the death of their previous leader, Commnander Karn. In actuality, it had been a brief two weeks.

What remained of the nation's disclosed top brass were gathered here to witness the transfer of the Spartanite technology and equipment. They made for a motley bunch, some decked out in battle regalia and decorated with medals they had never earned, others turning up in civilian clothes of varying degrees of formality. Rowling, it turned out, was underground at an undisclosed location, and given the recent spate of probe activities, Tryskel could hardly blame him. She had heard that the probes had even managed to assassinate a DataKnave, right outside Governor Halls.

Now, with the DataTech command structure delocalized and decentralized, each branch fumbled its way in the dark, sporadic analogue contact being the only possible type. The last contact that the Air Force had established was two days previously, when a coded transmission from Rowlings had announced the completion of Sentry-8; the successful withdrawal of all vital DataTech personnel and an industrial core of facilities to secret locations around the Iphiclian continent.

Rumor had it that the DataKnaves themselves were also breaking contacts and burrowing. Did this mean a new DataTech counter attack was forthcoming, to be initiated once Internal completed their preparations? Or was this the sinister admission of defeat and pragmatic loss-cutting?

Tryskel felt a small cold suspicion that the latter was true. If so, she was undoubtedly amongst those left behind on the outside. However, in this event, she had one last secret weapon, for which she could not take credit, but which she could use at her whim. The Spartans.

They were landing now, in the craft flown under cover of darkness from Aquascante naval bases, handling their craft with the expert deftness of many cycles of relentless practice. Only hours earlier, the hand-delivered message announced that this new wave of unidentified craft were allies, and not hostiles. Nevertheless, Tryskel had primed all defence systems and kept the newcomers in their sights until positive identification.

The new equipment consisted only of interceptors and ground based air defences - Aquascante had not been able to authorize any overtly offensive armaments, and rumor had it that the Morganites were the major force behind this obstruction. Still, the equipment was sound, that much was apparent. Spartanite efficiency was showing - the interceptors were sleek and menacing, even in the green-saturated vision field of her infrared visor. Their exhausts specially shielded against thermal detection, and the Chaos cannons computer-guided, the very shape and form of the aircraft seemed to bespeak their true purpose: to destroy.

A shudder ran through Tryskel as the last of the jets touched down, fission reactors downpowering as the upwards thrusts cut out. Beside her, the makeshift leadership huddled in the night air, awkward in their breathing apparatus and goggles, or shuffling their feet and wishing themselves back in the uncertain safety of the cities.

A figure descended from the diplomatic chopperlift, briefly haloed in the internal shuttle lamps before they switched off. Flanked by two guards, Tryskel caught a fleeting glimpse of the Spartanite leader, the man who would oversee the formal exchange, and supervise the ceding of
the Lend-Lease supplies. In the momentary flash of his profile, she saw ability, determination, and imperious confidence that bordered on the arrogant.

Tryskel motioned for the diplomats, and started down the dark steps to meet her Spartan counterpart.

* ~ * ~ *

"Commissioner, we have received a confirmation from Major Pietr Hommel of the Spartans - the Iphiclian shipment has reached its destination safely."

Lal sat back in his chair and nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Anand."

The face of the UN agent had barely faded from the holopode before Lal punched in another sequence. Now that the shipment was completed, Aquascante had completed their first step of many against the Hiverian insurgency, but all was not well. The reluctance of the Morganite faction
ranged from stony silence to outright obstructionism so far as the DataTech were concerned, and Lal knew the cause stemmed from the leadership and filtered its way down the command chain. He also had a shrewd hunch as to why the Morganites were so hesitant to counter the Hive, and
also what power the Hive might enjoy over Morgan's beancounters.

He pondered as the Morganite waitawhile dots flashed over the connection, then disappeared. Onscreen, rendered in pseudo-3D, was the staunch contenance of the Morganite CEO.

"Lal," stated the CEO flatly. He did not elaborate.

"The Spartanite shipment of defensive forces has gained the DataTech mainland. We expect them to be operational within eighteen metric hours. They will see full combat service as per the first article of Lend-Lease II."

Morgan gave the slightest of slight nods. "My congratulations. This must be of great satisfaction to you. Though I appreciate your notification, my time is pressing, so..."

Lal sat back and sighed. "Morgan, the Hive have Fusion power. How long do you think they will hold a monopoly on this knowledge?"

Morgan blinked and became absolutely still for a second. "I presume," he said after a pause, "you do not ask this in mere speculation."

Lal let his hands fall openly to his sides. "Not at all," he said airily, masking his delight. Morgan's brief discomfiture confirmed his suspicions. "I merely ask because the DataTech have forwarded a final plan to lure the Hiverian forces into a limited entrapment scenario. Colonel Santiago has provided the equipment, and the intelligence bureau of the DataTech homeland have furnished their charts and maps."

Lal stopped and pressed a button on the holopode base. The display came to life, showing a stretch of the Great Northern Ocean off the southern coast of Iphiclia.

"The Hive have been reticent lately about encroaching on Iphiclian soil. It appears that they do not want to risk further damaging their reputation, and are merely maintaining a naval blockade to disrupt trade and pressurize the DataTech leadership into giving up their captured agent, Hu. In this case, their honesty is somewhat unexpected - but it is also making it difficult for us to initiate the entrapment scenario."

Morgan shifted posture in his chair and leaned closer, his interest clear. Lal gave himself a minute at most to seal the clincher.

"However," he continued, "latest sonar surveillance by the Nautilus faction indicates that the Hive have one of their three carrier fleets off the southwestern seaboard. This consists of a carrier Jian Guo Men, two Chaos cruisers, and five skimships, two of which are Chaos armed, and three of which are equipped with 'Sabre' Missile systems. All of these vessels are running the older fission reactor models, save for the carrier."

"What are you telling me this for?" asked Morgan laconically. His manner was of offhanded abstraction, but Lal thought he could see the mechanics of calculation at work in his mind. Perhaps Morgan's recent obstructionism was a direct result of fear of the Hive.

"Needlejet bombers under UN command will lead an assault on the Hiverian carrier in an effort to damage their aerial projection capability. At the same time, a skimship detachment from the Nautilus will attempt to board the carrier once its defences have been brought sufficiently low. If all goes to plan, the carrier will be captured largely intact, allowing for Nautilus pilots to hijack one or more of the onboard Hiverian needlejets manually."

Morgan tapped the fingers of his steepled hands together, pensive. "And so we are to liberate Hiverian equipment, is that it?"

Lal shook his head. "No, my friend. We are to liberate Hiverian technology. A recent flyby shows that all the Hiverian aircraft present appear to be equipped with Balandin-Verniy Fusion drives. If we could secure even one such specimen and bring it to a research lab, then we would have an excellent opportunity to study the workings of the reactor in situ."

"And what of the carrier?" asked Morgan.

Lal gave a smile that roughly equated to a shrug. "I don't expect anybody will object if we scuttle it after the crucial period is over. After all, moving something of that size and vulnerability back to a research lab really would be quite inconvenient. If the Hive need it that badly, they can raise it from the seabed after we're done with it. Shouldn't be too far from where they sank the DataTech fleet."

Morgan sat back and regarded Lal straight, his face bearing a look of reluctant admiration. "I see you have thought this through very carefully, and congratulate you. May your humanitarian endeavors bear fruit." He sipped from a bulb and continued. "But I repeat my earlier question: why do you tell me of these plans?"

Lal sighed and offered his palms in a gesture of rueful acquiescence. "Morgan, as always, we look to you for that critical facet of any effective alliance... funding. However-" he continued quickly, seeing the look on Morgan's face, "-I come with assurances. Firstly, not a single joule of your energy will go to the DataTech, since we have yet to resolve your issues with Sinder Roze. Instead, the funds will go towards equipping all of our UN strike force aircraft with Chaos systems. Secondly, every last joule will be paid back to you in full by my own bankers, as you would expect. These transactions will take place under full UN auspices and I will be held legally responsible for their resolution.

"Finally, and most importantly - you have the promises of Colonel Santiago, Captain Svensgaard, Sinder Roze, and myself, of full scientific disclosure, upon the successful analysis of the Balandin-Verniy Fusion Drive. Each Aquascante faction will receive a complete summary and no tariffs will be imposed upon the usage of the technology until two Council meetings subsequent. The fusion drive technology, and derivatives therefrom, may be sold, traded, bartered, and otherwise used as any other commodity on the market, especially by those skilled enough to reap its profits.

"After all," concluded Lal with an airy flourish, "that is the true place of technology in the UN Charter - freeflow of information, and the inalienable right of every citizen to universal knowledge."

Morgan looked up from his ruminations, a flicker of scepticism in his eyes.

"So, let me get this straight: if we succeed, you will deliver the Fusion technology free of charge?"

"Yes," responded Lal.

"And the energy credits I loan you will never pass through DataTech hands?"

"That is correct," asserted the Commissioner. "You will get every last credit back, regardless of the outcome."

"And if we fail?" asked Morgan pointedly.

"We fail!" said Lal with a short laugh to disguise his mounting agitation. "But with your backing, Svensgaard's navy, and Santiago's airforce, we will not fail. Of course, we do not intend to confront the Hiverian forces in a straight fight, but we can isolate their Fusion drives. And once we have Fusion at our disposal, we shall strip the Hive of their technological advantage and dictate the war on our own terms."

Morgan sucked at his martini awhile longer, then seemed to come to a decision.

"How much do you need?" he asked.

Lal quickly brought the details up onscreen, each calculation supported by statistics drawn up by the Spartanite refitting experts. Morgan raised an eyebrow - the sum was not inconsiderable.

On one side, the Hive was vehemently opposed to the DataTech, and would trade Morgan the secrets of Fusion for diplomatic favors, not economic. On the other, Lal clearly did support the DataTech, but could bring the knowledge free of charge to Morgan. It was a delicate balance, and one that Morgan found admirable, if somewhat maddening.

"What about your Ten Points?" he asked warily. "Does this affect the matter of a Planetary Governor?"

Lal shook his head. "This is a diplomatic issue to be resolved after the Hive are adequately repulsed, circumstances allowing. What we do in our war against the oppressor, and what we do in our democratic Council, are two entirely separate and distinct things - as it should be."

Morgan finished his martini in a gulp and sent the glass bulb hurtling into the recycler with a crisp sweep of his arm.

"Very well, Lal - you will receive your refit funding as requested. However, my time is pressing, and unless there is more to be said, I fear I must bid you goodbye for now."

Signing off, Morgan watched the screen darken, his lips twitching. Then, in a resolute gesture, he turned back to follow Nkuti from the room - adding in a muttered undertone:

"You, Commissioner... and your sordid little theft."

* ~ * ~ *

Kumar Chakrabharti shielded his eyes against the fine midday sun as McClelland's jetlift touched down. As the whine of the engines wound down through the slow octaves, the landing security checks zeroed out, and the descent ramp deployed.

Kumar, squinting, could just make out the tallish form of McClelland - a light blob in the darkness of the doorway. He had lost some weight, but that was to be expected; surviving an assassination attempt was in itself admirable enough. McClelland seemed to have aged somewhat, if the look in his eyes was indicative.

Kumar turned as McClelland fell in step.

"I have some good news for you!" he said. "But first, how was the flight back?" he asked.

"A bit bumpy," replied McClelland distractedly. "There was some turbulence. Kumar," he asked sharply, "has the Senate voted on the Ten Points yet?"

"Why, yes," responded Kumar, somewhat surprised. "But you have just returned, Prentice. You needn't worry yourself-"

"Because I'd like to change my vote," finished McClelland, interrupting him. "In fact, I think we should rethink our entire appraisal of the Hiverian faction and recount our vote in light of the new information."

Kumar blinked. "But that would require the auspices of Lady Skye herself. It would have to be serious."

Prentice nodded as they entered the hangar bay. "Yes, it is serious. During our diplomatic silence, we have built up an erroneous picture of the Hive - a picture that the Peacekeepers and other factions have done their best to maintain. With the Hive and the DataTech in a state of vendetta, we need to make sure that we understand the true situation before making any judgements either way."

Kumar shook his head, struggling to keep up with McClelland's hurried pace. "But what good can come of it? The Aquascante factions are already gearing for armed conflict."

McClelland took the proffered glass of water and gulped it down greedily. "Most of the mistakes we have made concern the Hive's culture and ethos. But that can wait until later - I have various facts and figures and statistics to back this up in Senate. What is most important is that the Spartans and Aquascante factions are on the verge of going to war with a faction they do not fully understand, ethically or militarily."

McClelland's rapid-fire speech slowed as they stood before the gravlifts, waiting.

"It would be extremely rash of us," he declared, "to follow the Aquascante's blind lead without first researching the true disposition of the Hive. The Chairman was good enough to entrust me with their economic and vital statistics, and a whole lot more besides." He tapped the case at his side.

Kumar pondered. "The Peacekeepers have already been badgering Skye for a vote at Planetary Council. If what you want comes to pass, it means we'll have to relegate the vote back to Senate level. Lal might not stand for that."

McClelland chuckled harshly. "Stand, squat, or kneel, we're going to discuss the true state of affairs before we commit ourselves. If the Peace-artists haven't the patience to wait for us before going to fight their misguided crusade, they can bloody well send their own boys to die first."

Kumar sighed. "You're right. But the vote has already taken so much momentum. It will take the Lady's full combined influential muscle to stop it now. Are you sure it's worth the risk, Prentice?"

Prentice nodded. "We have to do this. I don't care if it finishes my diplomatic career. I know the difference between a faction that tried to have me killed in the most cowardly way possible, and one that saved my life."

Silence for a moment, then the gravlift arrived and they stepped in.

"Kumar," said Prentice. "what was the other thing?"

"Hmmm?" asked Kumar, distracted.

"You said you had some good news."

Kumar's face brightened. "Oh, yes!" he said. "Joely let us know two days ago. You're going to be a father soon!"

McClelland's face remained glum, and Kumar's smile rapidly withered.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Have I said... I mean, is it..." he faltered.

McClelland pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. "No, Kumar, it's wonderful news. But I didn't first hear of it from you."

Kumar laughed. "Ah, how awkward! And here I was thinking it would be such a surprise."

"No. the thing is, I didn't hear about it from Joely, either."

Kumar frowned in bewilderment. "Really?" he asked. "Well... let's see, the only other Gaian you talked to was Skye, and I don't think she was told about this-"

"Agent Hu," said McClelland abruptly. "He was the one who told me first. On board the magtrain, shortly before he died. He gave me his family heirloom and entrusted it to my care." McClelland took the miniature bansai plant case from its sheath and indicated the engraved characters on its side.

"What do they mean? Are they Hiverian?" asked Kumar.

"Simplified Chinese," corrected McClelland. "The hospital staff translated them for me." He produced a datapad and the recorded message:

Two young eyes meet the new world as two ancient eyes witness in Heaven.

"Is it poetry? What does it mean?"

"It means that my child will be born underneath a double sun," said McClelland grimly.

Kumar goggled. "The binary solstice? That's - what? - twelve and a half metric months from now..."

"Which is just under nine Earthside months. I checked the calculations and they're surprisingly accurate, right down to the night I spent with Joely."

"But how did he know?" asked Kumar.

"Maybe he didn't," shrugged McClelland. "Maybe he was just guessing. Or maybe he's got a bug so deeply hidden in our ranks that he knows about my wife's pregnancy before she does."

"Jesus," whispered Kumar.

McClelland straightened up, and the haggard look left his eyes quickly. "One thing's for sure," he concluded. "We'll never get to hear it from Hu, if we oppose the Hive. The DataTech took that back with them, and the Hive started this war to bring him back."

Kumar was silent, pondering the implications. If this omnipresience were true and not merely a lucky guess on the Hiverian's part, then it was no wonder that the Hive were striving to bring back the Agent's remains.

The gravlift gently came to a halt, and the door irised open.

McClelland stepped out into the bright applause of the Gaian Senate, Kumar at his side.

Last edited by Alinestra Covelia on 23-05-2002 at 07:52

	30-05-2002 06:03									#38
	Inflate your Upload Space

Joe - Endgame 1

Li Min woke from a nightmarish dream with a jolt that felt like a physical blow all along his side and arm. As he lay goggling in the fetid darkness, he took stock of his internal affairs. His head was still spinning, and the back of his brain ached terribly, but at least he was awake. That meant the nightmares couldn't get him.

Reaching out with a feeble hand, he knocked over the bucket of vomit, two hours old. Former stomach contents spilled onto the prefab floor of the operating theater, filling the air with the odor of sour acid. Now he knew where he was - he must have fallen from his makeshift bed in his sleep. This was hardly surprising; after all, when one designs an operating table, one doesn't give much thought to how comfortably the patient sleeps on it. He looked up at the lip of the operating table, and saw that his dirty blanket was hanging forlornly off the edge, waving gently to him. He tugged it down and swabbed ineffectually at the mess on the floor, then gave up. He shoved the blanket into the heavy equipment cupboard underneath the table and blinked owlishly.

Li Min crawled over to the tool stand and reached for the tumbler of water, drinking deeply and feeling the back of his throat smooth out with its cooling caress.

Now sitting upright with his back to the table, he looked around. The room was dark - that was unusual. He distinctly remembered it being bright when he fell asleep. A tapping, clicking sound brought his attention to the computer banks; now he was certain it was something in the room, not inside his head.

The glow came from the nilfreeze refrigeration unit. Li Min understood immediately - Huang had taken the head out of freeze again.

Li Min stood up shakily and steadied himself on the edge of the operating table, then lurched forwards, nearly knocking over a surgical cutter arm. He mopped at his face, and began a crazed, wobbling path to the other side of the M/MI clutter.

Huang sat in front of the screen, headphones on, tapping away at the keys like a demon. The screen showed readouts of data streams, all corresponding to Agent Hu's vital signs. At least Huang was playing it safe, and only using digital contact. Without an observer to stand in reserve, analogue contact via M/MI was simply too dangerous.

Huang hissed suddenly, a sharp intake of breath between gritted teeth, and tore off the headset in anger. He kicked the computer bank hard with his booted foot, cursing as he did so.

"Two hundred fifty," he spat venomously.

"No luck?" asked Li Min.

Huang whirled around. "You," he said, "are supposed to be in bed."

Li Min nodded. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Trawling," came the simple reply.

"And?"

"And I've found out all sorts of fascinating facts about our Agent Hu. Stuff that probably not even the Hiverian Intelligence Chief knows. And not one iota of it is of any damn use to us." Huang leaned back towards the screen and consulted.

"Let's see. Two hours of repeated grilling, and Agent Hu has confessed the following: he once ate at a Buddhist temple without donating money - he was called Ah Sun by his siblings - his sister gave him their family banzai and he gave it to the Gaian McClelland - he was awarded a cellchild for his work in civic planning - heck, the bastard probably lost his virginity to a cow. Crap, crap, and yet more crap."

"Really?" said Li Min ruminatively. "Do you mean 'cow' literally or figuratively?"

Huang gave Li Min an old fashioned look. "I hope this guy's worth the trouble we spent getting him. Because after this work is over I'm going to be the one to pull his plug."

With astounding abruptness, the computer screen went off, as did all the lights in the room.

Li Min, suddenly finding himself in darkness, experienced a sickening loss of balance and flailed for support. He found a mainframe cabinet, and stood panting with shuddering breaths, as Huang fished out the heavy portable.

"Dammit, all these blackouts will be a thing of the past with Fusion power," he said irritably, switching on the lamp. "Then, all we'd need to worry about is repairs, not energy supply. Imagine lights that never need to be dimmed except for replacements...-"

"Listen," said Li Min abruptly.

They listened in silence.

"The auxiliary generators are off," said Li Min.

Huang thought about this. "That's crazy," he said finally. "The auxiliaries are always active. It's the power that gets diverted to other places, right?"

"The generators are off," said Li Min steadily.

Huang stared at him for a few seconds, and then stood up, shouldering his vest.

"Where are you going?" asked Li Min.

"I'm going out to see what it is," came the reply. "Maybe the Sentry-6 withdrawal is to blame for this. Wouldn't surprise me if all the Internal staff have withdrawn into their little nest eggs and taken the goddam power with them."

"And if it is?"

"Then I know it's nothing I can help."

"But," said Li Min, "what if it's something else? Are you sure you can help then?"

"Maybe not," admitted Huang, loading a clip into his pistol. "But I'd sure be an idiot not to try, wouldn't I?"

Li Min started to protest, and saw that it was useless. Huang was right. Even if there was something out there, hiding in here was probably the worst thing they could do right now. At least going out to deal with it was an assured way of reaching an outcome.

"All right. But remember, your primary objective is to find out what it is, and then make it back in one piece. Without you, Hu is just a hunk of flesh and a waste of our time."

Huang cocked an eyebrow as he slid on his jacket. "You need to work on your persuasion, you know. Right now, I'd say your inept tongue is the greatest obstacle to Hu's continued existence."

He picked up his mag rifle on the way out.

* ~ * ~ *

Reinhardt scanned the green-saturated darkness and hunched down lower. It was no easy task for a man of his stature to hide inobtrusively, and many others would have considered the darkness cover enough, perhaps only kneeling or even standing up straight.

Reinhardt had not come to his present station through taking unnecessary risks. Thus it was that he sat sandwiched behind a fallen wall segment, watching the doorway. Back in Data DeCentral, Joe Amway had said that there were two DataTech inquisitors working on Agent Hu, somewhere in the bowels of the disused artillery point, and Reinhardt felt he could be trusted, but he was still leery of making too many assumptions.

The base had several entrances, each sealed by heavy doors that were physically - not electronically - locked, so that a hacking attempt would not be effective. Farnham had the eastern exit covered, Murath took the exit at the southwest, and Reinhardt himself had the hardest job, covering both the northern exit and the power generators.

The installation power generators were now dead, shut off by a generous application of Joe's cybernetic friend. Whatever portable power generators they might have would not be able to last them long enough, nor provide power enough, for extended habitation within the artillery point. Now, all that was needed was for the darkness and lack of electricity to do their inevitable job, and flush out the DataTech. In coming out, the DataTech would open the gates to investigate the surrounding terrain, and lay themselves upon to capture.

The ambushers would thereupon have two options open to them - either to force their way in through the opened doors, or to compel the captured DataTech to clear their entrance for them. The latter was in all probability the easier task, though Reinhardt maintained his doubts about its effectiveness - if Hiverians had no way to physically open the doors from the outside, what assurance was there that the DataTech might be able to?

Caught in his half-watchful, half-musing state, Reinhardt failed to notice warmth and motion behind one of the ancient sniping-slits on the upper levels.

* ~ * ~ *

With great difficulty, Huang ascended the claustrophobic confines of the observation tower and sat, panting, beside the sniping-slit. The steps were synthecrete and were resistant to erosion, but they had nonetheless acquired a treacherous xenomoss covering over the years, and he had slipped more than once. As he put on his IR scope, he wondered lazily what strange whim had compelled him to make this climb instead of just heading straight out.

The dim room jumped into green-saturated focus as the IR scope activated. Huang smiled grimly - at least his exertions in climbing up the stairs had fully charged the motion batteries. He adjusted the zoom and gazed casually out the window.

He froze.

There was a figure in the middle distance. A fuzzy green-white blob, partially obscured by the dark, jagged outline of rocks.

Huang's physical exhaustion vanished as he held his breath, finally daring to adjust the zoom on his scope. He brought the faint blob into closer focus, then gaped silently as it shifted position quietly.

There was no doubt about it - there was a man outside. Waiting for him.

Huang began the arduous process of kneeling down slowly, wondering whether to reach for his mag rifle. He knelt so that his eyes were flush with the lower lip of the slit, then described a large circle with his free hand, feeling around and behind him for available space.

He unclipped his mag rifle and was just preparing to shoulder it to the slit, when a thought struck him: there might be more of them outside.

He dithered in indecision, swearing silently. Li Min would know what to do, but he's sick. He gently lay down his mag rifle. He unstrapped his ammunition and lay that down too by the windowsill. Then, keeping his IR scope on to see down the treacherous steps, he headed back to the basement operating room.

* ~ * ~ *

"Turn that off," said Huang breathlessly as he returned.

Li Min looked up, startled. "What is it?" he asked.

Huang thrust an IR scope into Li Min's hands and reached to deactivate the portable roomlight.

"I checked the sentry towers. There are enemy infantry stationed at three points around the fortress. That I know of, at least. Maybe more. We have to do something about them before we go out to fix the generator."

"I see," said Li Min, now watching Huang in darkness through his scope. His compatriot was unscrewing the bulky light array from the top of its support rod and bundling it into a dirty bedsheet. "So what's the plan?"

Huang looked over his shoulder with an appraising glance at Li Min, whilst dismantling the rod into its constituent parts.

"I don't know," he said. "Clear the guys, restart the power, I guess. Meanwhile, we have to save all the power we can. Got any ideas?"

Li Min pondered sickly as Huang hefted the miniature fission power generator onto the operating table.

"Take me to the turret," he said finally. "Bring the equipment too. And lock the operating room door."

The two men made their way out, sealing the door and confirming the release code. But as they turned to ascend the turret, algorithmic energy relays from many klicks distant were already scrambling the code, locking the door behind them for good.

* ~ * ~ *

Murath had moved his sniper rifle a touch to the right, and was just hunkering down comfortably, when the first crisp, clear shot rang out. Ducking reflexively, he crawled around the fallen arch and stared out through the IR goggles. The DataTech were coming.

In the murky green expanse, nothing appeared to have changed. Certainly, the doors were not moving. Murath wondered about this, confused. Could it be that he'd misheard?

A series of shots followed, dispelling that idea. He scanned the front of the building, searching for the glow of heat traces from a ballistic weapon. There were none.

He hugged the rifle close and rolled to his side, back to the safety of the arch masonry. Without a clear indication of where the enemy was, there was no point in firing back. In any case, it was highly likely that they were firing from the other side of the buildings, as he couldn't make out any heat signatures.

Meanwhile, Farnham was not having such a good time of it. Bullets were cracking out of the firmament of the structure before him, but leaving no flash of light, no clue as to where they could be coming from. Somewhere, they had miscalculated - the DataTech were not interested in coming out just yet. The doorway remained ominously inactive, but the shrubbery around Farnham did not, thrashing and trembling as the rounds thudded into it.

Farnham lay on his back, unable to believe his senses. There were people in there, and they were trying to shoot and kill him, and they were doing a rather good job of it. From the accuracy of their gunshots, they weren't firing blind, and so he had to assume that they had IR scopes too. This neatly scuppered Reinhardt's plan, as it deprived them of their greatest asset and left them with the lower hand in a seige scenario.

He reached for his radio and activated it, signalling Reinhardt, cursing at the splinters of stone that clacked off his helmet. When that failed, he gave up and signalled Murath instead.

"Murath, what's the score over there? Over."

"I was about to ask you the same thing. Have heard shots fired but no exchanges. Your status? Over."

Farnham rolled onto his back, leaving his skull as close to the protecting Planet as he could.

"Taking fire from perhaps lone sniper. Have tried to contact Aurum-4 but no response. Suggestions? Over."

Murath was up and running, crouched over with his rifle tucked at his side.

"Will circle round to Aurum-4 to provide backup. Suggest you maintain your position and return fire. Will reestablish contact when at Aurum-4. Out."

Farnham switched off the radio and rolled back onto his stomach. From the sounds of it, his assailant was using a magnetic weapon of some sort, at least telling from the lack of heat signature. But where was he?

Farnham scanned the upper levels, but could pick up nothing definite. Another round of firing kicked up dirt clods near his hiding place, and he quickly retracted behind his bush cover. Then, holding his rifle close, he rolled across the longgrass, heading for to the greater shelter of the trees.

He had almost made it to the nearest bole, when his assailant scored a headshot.

Around a hundred meters northwards, and at an elevation of some five meters, Li Min unleashed a series of quick shots into the night that chipped Reinhardt's stone wall further. Some rounds disappeared into the darkness over his head, with thudding crackling sounds that indicated they had hit tree.

Reinhardt slumped behind the wall, his radio and compass left inert on the ground a way off.

Li Min loaded another clip and fired again, until the background began to blur and the crack of the rounds echoed around his head like an errant bat in a cave. He peered through the scope with watery eyes and saw that the enemy had fallen. Sweat flowed into his eyes and he blinked, his vision swimming from the exertion.

Huang came up behind him, breathless.

"I dropped one," he panted. "How are you doing here?"

Li Min, his face white, shook his head wordlessly.

Huang peered outside, saw that the enemy was gone from view, and nodded. He placed the control for the spotlight into his compatriot's unresisting hand.

"Switch it on when the doors open and cover me with fire if you're able. I'll try to circle around and catch him from the side. Switch it off once you can see me from your angle."

Li Min nodded again, swallowing hard to fight the retches.

* ~ * ~ *

Reinhardt lay on his side, his left arm bloody at the elbow and both the forearm bones broken from the impact of the maground. But although he was losing blood at an alarming rate, he was still conscious, and the sudden, blinding light in his field of vision had the desired effect of rendering him momentarily stunned.

He sequestered the pain and rolled onto his back, reaching up slowly with his right arm and switching off his IR scanner. It did not help very much, but at least he was able to open his eyes without being blinded. He reached down to his thigh, where the hand pistol was kept, and drew it slowly from its holster, squirming his way back towards the comfort and cover of the fallen wall.

There, in the relative external silence, he considered his options. They had gotten some sort of spotlight on to blind him - neither his normal sight nor IR scope would be of use now. They were going to either get round him and switch on the power, or more likely they would be trying to kill him directly first.

He was losing blood and the pain was starting to get through his prepared mental defenses. In a very short time, he would no longer be a viable probe member and would in some way or another become another casualty.

The only way out would be to somehow see his assailant before he was himself seen, or perhaps to shift position quickly. The difficulty he would have in spotting his opponent would be great. In fact, the only present advantage he had was that his foes would in all likelihood be just as blind as he was. As for movement - well, the intrusive agony of his left arm made that a distant possibility at best.

They began firing now, the shots chipping away at the rock and thumping the ground near him. From the sounds of it, there was one in the structure, and one on the ground. He couldn't hazard a peek round the rock without endangering his head. He wondered if the ground assailant would approach his rock from the door side, or whether he would circle around from the slope side. If he came around from the slope, Reinhardt would be able to see him better.

Suddenly, the light went off, and Reinhardt was lying dazed in the silent darkness again. He rolled onto his right side and flicked on his scope, scanning up the hill with a rising sense of certainty. There was a figure up there, running down towards him, hitting the dirt even as Reinhardt watched him, and raising a hand to its face to activate a scope.

Reinhardt grunted as he shifted weight and raised his pistol, taking careful aim but knowing his chances were slim at this distance. As he was doing so, the figure abruptly bloomed and the crack of a rifle split the sudden silence. Reinhardt flinched, expecting an impact, but there was none. Instead, the round whined overhead, wide of him. Three more shots, each blooming in his infra-red vision, and then silence once more. Reinhardt dropped his aim, sudden realizatin and relief washing over him.

The figure raised itself into a crouch and tucked away its rifle. Hunkered down, it made its careful way down the hillside and finally loped over to Reinhardt's side.

"Aurum-4," said Murath. "I took care of him, but it looks like they got Farnham."

Reinhardt nodded. "We have to get in there. That's where his head is."

Murath noted the grit of his teeth, and realized Reinhardt had been hit. Without saying another word, he laid down his rifle and set to work on his arm with his medical supplies. Either way, it looked like they were going to be here for a while longer.

	06-06-2002 23:33									#39
	Support Apolyton, buy Alpha Centauri

Joe - Endgame

Tryskel Carpenter finished her drop and eased her craft onto the level, the engines whining at the strain. Behind her, her wingmen of Cuckoo Wing followed suit, silently dropping altitude to skim the surface of the ocean. From their approach vector, the Hiverian carrier HCV Jian Guo Men would be unable to sense them, hugging the sea with the interposing peak of Southsea Island between them.

Southsea was a barren rock which the DataTech had claimed five decades previously. More recently, it was the waypoint for the Hiverian Jian Guo Men battle group: a carrier, flanked by two cruisers and five skimships.

The Hive evidently did not consider enemy fighters to be a significant threat. Although the carrier itself bristled with the latest in active/passive defences and scanners, the supporting craft showed considerable wear and usage. Perhaps it was a sign of the crumbling Hiverian economy, that their proudest military battle groups were cobbled from the ragtag relics of the past.

The island loomed closer, its non-volcanic peak steadily growing in their radar sensors. Of the enemy battle group, though, there was no sign to be seen. Tryskel remembered her earlier briefing - this was no reason for alarm, that their entire strategy relied on this mutual blindness to work.

The necessity for radio silence was also heavily unsettling.

Tryskel Carpenter peered at her scopes, trying to calm herself. She was to watch for the signal... but where would it come from? The island drew inexorably closer, and she wondered with a rising panic whether the Nautilus had managed to make it this far after all. Their presence depended on whether they had managed to evade the Hiverian patrols - if the Hive had detected their motions, the very least would be that Svensgaard's men would turn right around and abort mission.

The jet sped over the leagues and Tryskel eased back on the thrust. Aerodynamics in Planet's thicker atmosphere made for a much higher minimum velocity than Earthside aircraft required, and Tryskel was well aware of the increasing danger of stalling as she slowed. They would have to catch the signal the first time around - if they crossed the turnpoint, their presence would be detected by the Hiverian craft on their double-back and they would have to abort.

Tryskel was easing back further on the throttle with sinking spirits, when she caught a sudden faint blip on the radar. The Nautilus had arrived. With a murmured prayer of thanks, she increased speed to full throttle, and with a brief glance at her rear sensors to make sure her wing were following suit, she brought her craft to a rolling turn around the mountain's broad shoulder.

* ~ * ~ *

The Hiverian cruiser crew were the first to sense the wave of fighters, but by the time they had scrambled aircraft defenses, their hull had absorbed several strafing runs of lightfire Chaos shells. Though troublesome, the penetrative power of lightfire shells could not substantially damage the cruiser's integral structure. They primed their guns and prepared trackers to fend off a further airborne wave, but by this time the enemy fighters were nose-up once more, pounding towards the carrier craft in the center of the formation. The other cruiser and three of the support skimships stood sentry near the bulk of the carrier, equally scrambling to arm and aim. Cuckoo wing passed over the second cruiser with only a token exchange of fire.

The first wave of craft bore strange markings and the Hive were unable to listen in on their transmissions, which matched no known frequency of Aquascante broadcasts. They cut speed as they approached, the better to improve their maneuverability, and targeted the magazines and gun emplacements along the sides of the carrier. The precision of their attacks bespoke a surprising degree of skill and experience - as they drew near, the front wave slewed to starboard in unison, strafing as they went.

At first, the Hiverian gunners believed this to be an evasive action, and followed with their gunsights. However, the true nature of the move became clear only seconds later - behind the radar noise and clatter of their Chaos weapons, the unknown fighters had been running cover for the DataTech bombers behind them. Suddenly exposed, the Hiverian carrier could not scramble anti-aircraft guns onto the new wave of attackers quickly enough.

DataTech Cuckoo Wing bombers successfully launched their full complement of missile warheads against the forward-port segment of the Hiverian carrier, then disengaged portwards. The carrier itself launched multiple CG flechette defense flares, but the response came too late. Many of the CG flechette flares successfully intercepted the incoming warheads, but did so in close proximity to the carrier itself. The mixture of direct hits and collateral concussion caused significant damage to the portside weapon emplacements. Most importantly, the portside sensors were dead for the moment - the carrier was even now rotating to face its starboard to face the outgoing aircraft in preparation for another attack run.

Sirens and claxons added to the din onboard the carrier. Hiverian pilots strapped themselves into their craft and began the emergency countdowns, preparing to launch in pairs from the double deck of the Jian Guo Men. Meanwhile, at the bridge, all was action and resolution. The commanding officer, one Lt Col Sun, was competent enough to recognize an important fact - the DataTech bombers had spent all their warheads in the first run and were now merely flying to escape. His previous experience onboard fission-reactor ships told him that such an attack could indeed sink an older generation carrier, but the Balandin-Verniy fusion reactors were considerably stronger.

From this data, Lt Col Sun made his first error. He assumed that the DataTech's mission had been to destroy the Jian Guo Men, and that they had miscalculated the fortitude of the Hiverian craft. He believed that the DataTech's bombing firepower was now spent, and that the attack would soon cease once the AAA defenses came online. From this deduction, he made his second error - giving the order for the surrounding cruisers and skimships expressly to hold their perimeter positions and prepare to shoot down the hostile aircraft as they fled homewards. He believed that what hostiles remained could be easily and efficiently cleared by the Hiverian fighters.

Understandably, the Nautilus submarine boarding crews took the carrier completely by surprise.

* ~ * ~ *

The first sign that something was seriously amiss came a few moments after the first wave of Hiverian fusion interceptors launched from the deck. With a sickening metallic squeal that shook the carrier to its very substructure, the Nautilus anvil craft came up beneath the carrier and attached itself to the underside of the bow. This would not affect the forward velocity of the craft, but it did add considerable inertia to the understructure, preventing effective rotation. Operating through an umbilical in their deep pressure hull, the Nautilus seamen began a sonic disruption of the underside of the carrier, cutting through the bulwark to allow a marine detachment to board. The anvil secured, four hammer submarines simultaneously surfaced near the carrier and launched concussion flares to obscure and jam sensor reports. Despite the evident vulnerability of the carrier, the hammer submarines could not afford to launch warheads, as damage to the carrier would endanger their anvil craft and boarding party. Their tactic was rather to prevent and confuse further launches of fighter craft, as well as frustrating long-distance precision fire from the cruisers.

Whilst this was underway, the first wave of Hiverian fighters launched and turned to pursue the enemy. The DataTech bombers were heading full throttle back for the safety of the Southsea peak island, and the mysterious enemy fighters had circled and strafed the nearest skimship before following, running cover for their slower bombers. The Hiverian fighters engaged full throttle and gave chase, following similar tactics to the dogfights in the Battle at Deinara Sound. This was characterized by three assumptions of superiority - superiority of equipment, superiority of numbers, and superiority of skill.

They were in for a rude shock. Despite lesser speed and reduced maneuverability, the unidentified fighters proved surprisingly well-coordinated, splitting up into trailing pairs. This tactic proved a match for Hiverian training - all the moreso as their backup failed to materialize until it was too late.

* ~ * ~ *

Tryskel forced her fighter through a tight arc and clenched her facial muscles against the gravitational force. The superplastic frame of the craft shuddered through the turn, but through the darkening spots of her vision, Tryskel watched the Hiverian fighter's rear outline slip slowly and surely into her front sensor. She levelled as soon as she was able, fighting against the sudden chill in her bloodless cheeks. The tight maneuver completed, she increased throttle to maximum to catch up with her beleaguered wingman.

Her wingman - Patterly - was far ahead, but distance alone would not save her. The Hiverian craft was closing on her at a trenchant pace, weapon systems sounding and focussing even as Tryskel followed. She cursed as the Hiverian slipped briefly out of her targeting scope, then reacquired her lock. The computer processed, clicking softly as it differentiated and distinguished with maddening slowness.

With a sharp intake of breath, Tryskel saw the Hiverian loose its weapons, felt her own fingers clench spasmodically despite the premature lock, and saw her field of vision light up brilliantly as her launchers flung their warheads into the far distance.

The bright afterglow of her air-to-air flechettes rendered visual contact futile - she watched through the seemingly eternal six metric seconds as her targeting computer finally gained the lock, and loosed another volley.

By this time, the Hiverian had begun his belated evasive action, throwing his craft into a sideways roll to avoid the bright streaks that flashed towards him. The first salvo passed him by harmlessly, unable to lock, but Tryskel's second wave locked and deflected with crisp accuracy. As the enemy craft dived and swooped, Tryskel closed and readied her impact slugthrowers. These required optical targeting, difficult given the darkness, but their rate of fire was considerable, and the psychological effect would be welcome.

The Hiverian dropped suddenly, one Chaos warhead narrowly missing his wing, and climbed steeply to try to close distance between himself and his pursuer. Tryskel unleashed her particle weapons, deflecting her shots to lead the enemy, but his greater maneuverability defied her.

A sudden blitz of static in her communication console startled Tryskel, and she scanned her screens for a report. The bright light far to the portside came a moment later - the Hiverian's two warheads had detonated, perhaps catching Patterly. But Tryskel could spare no thought for her wingman as the Hiverian completed his tortured loop and thundered down towards her.

At this point, reasoned tactics and logical maneuvers became impossible. Tryskel, suddenly surrounded by bursting Gatling flak, threw her craft into a sideways roll and reflex jinking took over. By the time she regained her frenzied senses, the Hiverian was far behind her, dodging wildly. This puzzled her for a brief moment as she turned, then she caught the faraway glare of her warheads - they were still tracking and following. More importantly, the Hiverian was alone - the carrier itself was under attack and fighter launches were confused.

With the Hiverian pinned down, it was easy for her to loose another dual salvo - her lesser speed acting to her advantage in gaining the computer lock-on. By the time the Hiverian had dealt with the first trailing warheads, the second pair sped home and met their target with a swift, distant bloom in the darkness of the night.

* ~ * ~ *

The carrier's hull finally gave way, and the boarding party were inside. The few Hiverian defenders in the cargo bay proved insufficient to repel the armored invaders, and the subdeck was quickly secured. The thick security doors proved a nuisance, delaying their progress for a metric minute or two before falling to the cutters. Their way cleared, the marauders swarmed up onto the maindeck with swift purpose.

They met with their first real resistance at the main stairwell, where the Hiverians attempted to pin them down and seal them in. A brief firefight ensued, during which the visiting Spartan advisor Pietr Hommel acquitted himself with admirable bravery, storming up the gangways with three Spartan marines and eliminating the galley snipers along their vulnerable flank.

The main stairwell secured, they split into two groups, one to make for the bridge, and one to make for the hangar bays. Of the two, the former group was the less successful - Lt Col Sun's personal guard had sealed the bridge and activated all automated defense systems. This forced the marine group back into the indefensible main concourse, where they held out for a good twelve metric minutes before being slaughtered to the last man.

Fortunately, Hommel and the visiting Spartans had been in the second group, and they advanced with surgical precision to the pilot prepping area. There they met with fierce but brief retaliation from the guards, before neutralizing the reserve pilots and progressing onto the aircraft launch deck.

By this time, the Hiverian pilots already in their craft were activating and preparing to launch regardless of flight clearance. Some ground crew remained, but the hijack team brushed them aside, disabled what prepping jets they could, and finally sealed all personnel entrances.

This done, the whole flight deck was theirs, as were the remaining three pilotless Hiverian craft - all bombers. The designated surrogate pilots were members of the Spartan Air Force, and they took their places at the controls, Hommel amongst them. The cockpit was rather small and tight for his liking, and he had a suspicion that his girth was too large for the eject mechanism, but the controls seemed similar enough to Spartan design. In any case, if all went well, they would only need to fly on the straight and level anyway.

Within a brief handful of metric minutes, the primary objective of Operation Garrett was complete, and the Balandin-Verniy fusion needlejets were property of the Aquascante nations.

* ~ * ~ *

Tryskel received the transmission just as she regrouped with her Spartan wingmen, harried but still aloft. The flares from the hammer submarines stopped abruptly, and the carrier launched its final flight of needlejets. According to the transmission, these last three were the Objective, and were to be safely escorted to Iphiclia at all costs.

Cuckoo Wing and Lapwing lunged back into the fray to draw the fire of the bona fide Hiverian air defences. The ruse lasted admirably well - though both sides suffered considerable casualties, the Objective craft made their way out from the fray and thundered overhead in a straight flightpath towards the distant DataTech shores. The Nautilus marines made their way to the cargo bays and regained their anvil submarine, shortly before retracting the umbilical and leaving the holed carrier to its saltwater fate.

At this juncture, the Jian Guo Men lurched visibly in the water and the bow end dipped alarmingly, flooding the lower flight deck. However, the Hiverian school of ship design had included sufficient safeguards and redundancies to combat taking on water. Airtight locks sprang into action, sealing essential verticals, and air was pumped into flooded rooms to aid flotation.

All in all, the carrier and its commanding officer survived. But the real prize was heading out into the night, with the few remaining Hiverian interceptors just realizing the fact.

Tryskel hoped her interference would be enough to divert the Hiverian interceptors, but once they reassessed their priorities, the diversion was effectively over. Their interest focussed back to their renegade bombers, the Hiverian pilots turned away from the fray with one accord and engaged full throttle to catch up.

Tryskel and her flight group gave chase, locking and launching warheads as they could, forcing the Hiverians at least into time-wasting evasive actions. But as they reached the safety perimeter of the enemy cruisers and skimships, the Aquascante fighters encountered concentrated anti-aircraft fire. Further targeting became impossible as they ducked and weaved to stay airborne.

One and a half klicks away, Hommel and his wingmen received repeated transmissions from the Hiverians, in a tongue they could not understand. The confusion in the voices of their pursuers was evident; surely the Linelock Hunter-Seeker Algorithm made probe activity impossible against military divisions?

Hommel smiled. In all his life, he had been many things, but he had never been a probe. Their attack on the Hiverian carrier had utilized not one single dataprobe or hacking device - all had been accomplished using simple, sheer force and reliable standard weapons. Human hands, not iterative programs, had forced open the bombers' cockpits, just as human hands and not electronic relays now directed their level flight. True, the hands were unused to the controls, and could not risk fancy maneuvers, but they were steady and they were sure; flesh and bone, immune to the electric aegis of Berzhinev's Algorithm.

The fighter jets closed ranks, the transmissions increasing in their rapid-fire urgency. One term especially was repeated in blank bewilderment, and Hommel thought he recognized it. He thought he heard the Hiverian term for "sir", repeated like a mantra.

The fighters drew alongside the bombers, evidently opting against releasing their warheads. Hommel wondered lazily what they would do. He knew his goal lay behind Southsea Island, over the horizon, on Iphiclia, behind Sentry-8. He wondered whether the Hiverians had the same clarity of vision.

* ~ * ~ *

The mountain of Southsea Isle is looming from the darkness, and six craft, all bearing Hiverian markings, are flying through the pre-dawn air. The six silver arrowheads shoot onwards in doubled ranks - three pairs of bullets in the purple darkness.

Six minds are lost in contemplation, three knowing that their mission has failed, their eventual doom keeping pace beside them in bewildering silence. Three minds know that their mission must succeed, their targets flying straight and level towards an enemy mainland.

Hiverian pilot Dillinger, once reprimanded, once reinstated, holder of an otherwise unblemished career, pilots the leading Hiverian interceptor. He looks across, with a curious child's glance, through the glass of two cockpits. He knows that he does not recognize the face of the pilot. He also knows that his life is forfeit if his judgement is wrong.

He nods to himself, dips his wings once in final salute, then slews his craft decisively over to the side. His quick but fragile fighter does not survive the collision, exploding in a fireball at 500 meters' altitude.

Hommel is luckier - as the bomber plummets Planetwards, his ejection system activates, throwing him clear of the shattering hull. The closeness of the cockpit glass severs his legs at the knees, but the rarefied chill of the freezing atmosphere immediately cauterizes the bleeding.

Above and behind the freefalling meat, two more midair explosions split the night air. Then the wondrous gift of flight is gone, and all that remains is for the wreckage of men and machines to return to the surface once more.

	24-06-2002 07:39									#40
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The news of the Hiverian downing near Southsea Isle was easily contained, in essence another facet of a secret war. The Hiverian leaders, once notified, effected several calculations and metrics over what course to take. Three less experienced leaders pushed for a decisive thrust northwards and the capture of Southsea Isle, followed by a land invasion of the DataTech mainland itself. However, they were blocked by two old generals, who maintained that the disposition of enemy forces being unknown, it would be foolish to progress with a badly damaged carrier fleet. They pushed for a retreat back to the cover of support groups, while the carrier underwent repairs.

High Command decided to strive for the recapture of the wreckage - a move that worried and perplexed the Diplomatic Corps. If the Navy decided to retreat, the only recourse open would be to file a request through diplomatic channels. One last consolation remained for the Diplomats, namely, that High Command had decided against an assault on the mainland. Thus the Hive avoided further reputational deterioration - for the present.

A brief memo was issued to the University, detailing the loss sustained by both sides in this surprise attack. The most important fact - that Fusion powered vehicles had suffered their first defeat by Fission reactor units, was left unstated. It was believed that the Provost would be able to induce this for himself, assuming that he still harbored any interest whatsoever in the matter.

On the sunside of Planet, however, things were less cool. The Commissioner had received initial reports from the DataTech with apparent delight, congratulating the DataJack heartily on her victory and authorizing a fully supported recovery team to bring the wreckage back to the Iphiclian continent. However, he had later consulted with his ambassadors and other contacts, and the picture appeared considerably less pleasant than initially.

Firstly, although the Hiverian craft were indeed downed, a rescue operation would be near impossible whilst the Hiverian carrier group remained in the area. Lal noted with some anxiety that the best part of the Spartan-Aquascante attack wing was destroyed in the operation. The DataTech did not have any reserve air force left to speak of, and it would take another round of penpushing and favors to authorize more Aquascante aid. Although Santiago would be all too happy to sell more of her equipment, Lal knew that Morgan would resist with all his influential clout. The carrot of Fusion power was somewhat effective in bringing Morgan back into the picture, but the CEO would doubtless be awaiting returns on his investment, not further requests for credits.

If the Hive decided to advance now, deploying their Fusion aircraft, the DataTech were sure to fall. Once this occurred, Lal feared a loss of face - he had, after all, pledged to uphold the nation of information democrats. But without Fusion, any resistance against the Hive would be that much weaker - limited not so much by the strength of the resistance, but the capacities of the Hive.

It was a thorny question, and one that Lal decided was best dealt with by keeping it from the public. One of the editors of the forerunning Morgansoft newsnodes had a direct line to the UNP leadership, for them to wire news as it happened. Lal called his secretary in and began a rapidfire dictation of a newsworthy event.

Midnight operation - covert raid successful - Hiverian jets destroyed - Hiverian carrier damaged - withdrawal hoped imminent - follow-ups planned - DataTech/UNP ties improving - Hiverian media increasingly shrill in reports of Hiverian "successes".

Lal thought that covered all the bases. To Morgan, however, he composed a somewhat milder missive.

Fusion jets downed, recovery efforts underway. Will notify immediately upon further developments. Patience, faith necessary.

Finally, he turned his attention to a matter closer to his heart. The Governor elections could not proceed without the vital statistics and leadership structures of the participating factions. So far, he had received these files from the Morganites, Nautilus, and Spartans. The DataTech presentation was a bit patchy as yet, but it was understandable given the situation. In any case, it hardly mattered - Lal knew their vote was a foregone conclusion. That left only the Gaians unaccounted for.

Lal composed a message to Deirdre that managed to be simultaneously both polite and terse, the gist of which was to remind her of the elections and the necessity of her vote to ensure fair representation of the democratic populace. This slight whiff of rhetoric was all that the note contained, and Lal sent it through the translinks without further ado.

He was confident that he could count on votes from both Svensgard and Roze, but the latter was a wildcard at best. The vital statistics did not look good - Roze's populace was considerably lesser than that of the other factions, perhaps owing to her faction's later start in life. What had begun as an enthusiastic recruiting attempt was now a slightly leaden slog, once Lal knew the actual dimensions of Roze's ailing faction.

Still, he reflected, numbers were important only as far as Governorship was concerned. Once he had that particular hurdle cleared, future votes in Council would be handled on an equal basis for all factions. This meant that every faction would be important in the future plan, even stragglers like the DataTech.

The Spartans would come over soon, Lal was sure of that. Once he had convincingly cast himself in the role of their economic soothsayer and facilitator, there would be no way the Spartans would wish to turn their back on Aquascante. Even without a Pact of Sisterhood, Santiago's faction had much to offer in the way of military equipment and personnel, and Lal would have much to offer them in the way of technologies and economic trade. Though Santiago's fanatical adherence to the right to bear arms would clash with the UN charter for disarmament, Lal was certain he could milk the need to oppose the Hive/University axis awhile longer.

More immediately disturbing was the naked opposition from the Morganites. Regardless of Morgan's economic importance to Aquascante, Lal knew that whatever military help he could offer would be minimal. Whilst the DataTech had only slightly superior military capabilities than their erstwhile Morgan employers, they did possess the great advantage of being right off the coast of the Hiverian mainland. Lal's imagination developed in fruitful leaps and bounds at the prospect of an attack force, based on the DataTech Iphiclian mainland. He could see it now - Spartan war machines and needlejets, launching from airbases as the Nautilus launched coordinated naval and marine strikes. Then, the liberation of hapless Hiverian denizens, free from the terrible yoke of their oppressors. Finally, perhaps, a just and proper trial of the highest echelons of that gruesome regime - and none more guilty than the one-time Executive Officer of the Unity, now styled Chairman, the demon Sheng Ji Yang.

Lal thought about this. A pity it would be difficult to hold the election now. The Hive were at their weakest international ebb since erecting their LineLock Hunter-Seeker Algorithm decades ago. Their triumphant extermination program against the Caretakers was practically halted as they diverted resources into a war against the DataTech. Thus, the rich resources of Harmonia were - for the moment - still denied them, still in the hands of the Caretaker Progenitors. Moreover, they dared not attack the DataTech mainland directly, knowing all too well the enormous international condemnation that would follow.

Lal found himself amused by their euphemistic wording - they covered their conquering desires (and their lack of conquering firepower) with the term "a war against treachery". As though treachery was something solid, a national entity, that could be fought with tanks and planes and mortars! As though war would accomplish something besides driving the treacherous agents further underground, all the more inaccessible, all the more snug in their lairs.

Sarita entered with a missive, then bowed and withdrew. The Commissioner reluctantly adjourned his grandiose thoughts for the future, and consulted the message. He read, lips twitching, as his previous musings fled his mind and the present developments blossomed. He nodded, pondering, and finally sat down to dictate another nodewave. Although this news was strongly related to the earlier top-secret matter, it was safe to make known to the public, through its utter ludicrousness - Lal was confident that no straight-thinking reader would take it seriously.

Following successful Aquascante offensive, Hiverian jet planes collide, crash in sea near Southsea Isles. Hiverian diplomats demand return of wreckage.

Lal mused awhile longer as the wire service hummed, and then decided to add a further detail.

"Cockpits are sovereign Hive territories," claim Hiverian diplomatic corps.

Lal sat back, a deeply satisfied smile on his face. Who could take the Hive seriously after a claim of that stupidity?

* ~ * ~ *

The Gaians hardly followed the news at all, being largely disinterested in matters military and unanimously hoping for a peaceful outcome. In any case, their internal politics were such that they could spare precious little time for external contemplation - a high-ranking Senator had just returned from a remarkable journey in a previously mysterious nation, and his report of that nation was turning the accepted stereotype on its head.

Many fellow Senate members were sufficiently swayed to reconsider their votes on the Commissioner's Ten Points, especially those concerning the Chairman Sheng Ji Yang, although a sizeable portion still wavered, and another (not inconsiderable) fraction maintained their condemnation. But Prentice McClelland was an articulate speaker, and what was more, a favorite of the Lady Skye.

Most importantly, he was also a personal friend of the Sender. This close link to the Gaian Empath Guild and the ARBANT sender-receiver was important, as it allowed him the potential to communicate with fellow supporters without fear of eavesdropping. Links with previously unknown like-minders could be forged very quickly, with just an evening's work at the ARBANT at Gaia's Landing.

All in all, the Gaians were a nation undecided, and moving on very quickly with the decision making process. The same could not be said for the Morganites, who, some 8,000 km to the southeast, dithered and waited for further reports.

The Morganites had two painful choices - either to continue with the Hiverian agreement and oppose their infuriating friends the Peacekeepers, or to wait and see if Lal could produce the goods. Unfortunately, therein lay the rub. What had begun as a seemingly failsafe plan as described by the Commissioner seemed likely to degenerate into a lengthy trawl.

Morgan wouldn't be surprised to find Lal clandestinely begging for help from the other Aquascante factions in the retrieval. He could almost imagine the lofty hyperbole that the UN head would employ to impress upon his peers the importance of the operation and its noble necessity, instead of the faintly ridiculous and heavily illegal larceny that it so essentially was.

* ~ * ~ *

In mountainside Sparta, the mood was brittle. Santiago had not been made aware of the near total destruction of their attack force, but her suspicions were more than adequately aroused by Lal's telltale lack of news on that front. Lal had imprudently informed them of the successful completion of the mission, and added that recovery teams would be required to salvage the wreckage, thought to be at the bottom of Deinara Sound.

Santiago took an especially dim view of this report, because it hinted that the hijack team had not survived. Amongst the hijack team had been an exemplary soldier and decorated Spartan hero, Pietr Hommel. Santiago had entrusted the mission to him because there was nobody better to represent the Spartan elite. And she was not happy at the prospect of his being lost through DataTech incompetence.

She was also beginning to wonder whether Lal would attempt to explain the situation before she lost patience and brought it up herself.

His latest missive, asking for her aid and cooperation in the retrieval, would have been insulting had it not been so close to her own thoughts. Hence the meeting with Bonaventura, her military aide.

"We do have two spy planes in the area, each of which can perform a fly by of the wreckage... provided the Hive don't stop them," Bonaventura was saying. Santiago studied the tactical laid out before them on the tabletop.

"What would the Hive need in order to stop a spy plane?" she asked.

Bonaventura looked somewhat glum. "Any ship with adequate anti-aircraft armaments would be able to knock them out of the sky if they were guarding the area closely enough. As for enemy aircraft, from what we have noted of Hiverian airpower, they could conceivably take down a spy plane with warhead armaments. Their top airspeed so far witnessed is insufficient to compete with our spy planes in a straight out contest of speed."

Santiago nodded, calculating. "If I know Hommel, he'll have jettisoned before the jets crashed if it was at all in his power. And if there's any chance that he is still alive, we must get out there and bring him back."

Bonaventura consulted with Voki, and returned promptly.

"We have no naval vessels in the area, Colonel. The closest elements are those of the Pirates."

Colonel Santiago mused awhile longer, and then nodded.

"Get me Captain Svensgaard. Not on the Aquascante line, use the Pirates communications frequency. I want to talk to him privately."

* ~ * ~ *

As these separate diplomatic struggles begin across the intercoms and wire systems, a very different struggle is coming to an end on Iphiclia. As the seige of the artillery point fortress winds down, Murath and Aurum-4 have managed, with the aid of the late Farnham's oxygen canisters and several ounces of standard munitions, to create a jerry-made explosive. This, placed inside a second-storey sniper's slit and detonated, has created a large enough crawlway for the two men to climb through.

The artillery bunker is age-old and what few defences there are have not been activated. Aurum-4, his injured hand in a vaccuum sling, activates the holospheres and they swirl around his head, recording the surroundings in three dimensions. He and Murath make their way down the slippery moss-covered steps of the turret, then over to the central munitions dump. In line with their earlier briefing, the equipment here is newer and in good condition - evidently the enemy probe team's base of operations.

The electronic door is locked by the Zeta-5 Algorithm, just as Joe had said it would be. There are marks of gunfire on the lock, as though somebody had tried to blow it out before giving up and leaving. Some blood smears on the door could be finger-marks of a desperate person attempting to claw his way in, and this small flake of keritin might well be a broken human fingernail.

Murath had favored the idea of going after the final enemy probe, but after Aurum-4's injury, the entire mission has taken on a deadlier new urgency. They can afford to waste no time in getting the remains of Agent Hu, and completing their mission.

The door responds to the agreed password, and Murath and Aurum-4 step inside warily, the holospheres whirling in their slow dance. The interior is dimly lit, but Murath activates their portable lamps and the furniture leaps into distinct focus.

Surgical tables, instrument racks, and a small collection of computer terminals crowd the area. Anomalous within this clinical white and cool gray metal is the light blue of the nitrogen freezer, and the black cables leading through the rubber sealed door. Murath steps over, and, slowly for the benefit of the holospheres, swings the door open - bringing light to the frozen eyes and frosted blue lips of the disembodied head of Agent Hu.

	27-06-2002 06:54									#41
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Endgame

A series of concentric ripples form in the dark Deinaran waves near Southsea Isle, too small for the Hiverian fleet to detect, but large enough to arrest the upwards velocity of the Nemo.

Hesitantly, almost fearfully, the silksteel hunter-killer submarine holds its depth in the waters, waiting for the sea above to subside. Then, at a signal from the captain, the Nautilus flagship continues its rise with vegetable slowness.

In the bridge, attention is tense, but falls heaviest on two sensors - one, a readout of the bulwark shadows of the Hiverian battle fleet Jian Guo Men, the other, a longwave detector focussed on the sloping underwater coast of the Southsea Isle itself. Now, in the cool, sweating damp at 150 meters' depth, mere blips and clicks become crucial for survival.

Consider the matter of Control's latest transmission. This was kept utterly secret, as it circumvented even the Commissioner Pravin Lal himself. It came as a direct order from Santiago, later through Svensgard, that the Southsea Isle area be placed under observation at all times, with a rescue team ready to penetrate and recover any survivors or wreckage.

Spartan flybys had overflown the area once, but the armed Hiverian counter-escorts had deterred them from trying a second time. Flybys around the Sargasso indicated that the Hive were sending a few craft with Deep Radar capabilities up here to guard the battle fleet against further submarine attacks, but these were not due to arrive until another few days. The carrier itself had retreated to unknown destinations, perhaps for repairs.

Most intriguingly, the Hive appeared reluctant to open fire against the Spartan craft. The reason for this was not immediately clear - could it be that the Colonel Santiago numbered amongst the few people whom the Chairman Sheng did not wish to anger?

The Nemo eased itself surfacewards. As it did so, a faint but telling blip appeared on the longwave scanner. Calculations were made, triangulations approximated, and its origin was traced to somewhere on the shores of Southsea Isle itself. Above water.

The excitement on deck was fragile, but palpable. If the signal truly was coming from abovewater, at Southsea Isle, then there was a decent chance of a survivor or survivors on the island. Now, the trick was to get to it without the Hiverians noticing.

The captain radioed back to Nautilus headquarters, describing the situation - that the Hive were too close to the island for a fully effective retrieval to take place. The crew of the vessel could make such an attempt, but time would be against them unless the Aquascante navy could send backup, or the Aquascante air force could provide firepower support.

The message was scrambled, relayed, received, decoded, and presented to the proper Nautilus authorities. This information was then encoded once again and sent, by express order of Captain Svensgard, to the suitable international personnel.

It bears telling that none of these suitable personnel were to be found outside of the Spartan Federation. This precluded the UN Commissioner Pravin Lal.

* ~ * ~ *

The dusty holopode was an old model, but sturdy. On it was a relief map of a continental landmass, shaped somewhat like the horned skull of a lupicrote, a broad nosepiece heading down southwards, and two slenderer landmasses curving off to the east and west. Also visible were familiar landmarks - the rolling hills, the dense forests in the center, pink swathes of xenofungus, and finally the rivers, comparatively straight in the generally mild terrain.

"Iphiclia and the DataTech territories," announced Joe.

He flicked a switch, and the map colored in light blue, darkening to deep purple in urban concentrations. The dots were fairly even throughout the central mass, thinning to a faint scrawl near the sea and further from the nutrient rich core. Five points, corresponding to large bases, were specially clear.

"The DataTech urban concentrations, and the urban centers of DataDeCentral, Ferretslair, Moonshadow, Ergonomia, and Applet Way," announced Joe.

He flicked a switch, and the map highlighted white spots which started off as bright dots at the center, and rapidly faded away within a few tens of kilometers. These all occupied an area roughly corresponding to the skewed pentagon of the five cities.

"These are tracked transmissions of the DataTech Internal, using their highest security codelocks. These are available only to DataKnaves, members of the DataTech military, and the DataJack herself. Although Zeta-5 has not yet made an attempt to break the codes themselves, our Algorithm has been able to track the activity at this extreme level of encryption, with the results you see."

Joe motioned the show onwards to the final display, which finally drew a large, jagged hexagon around the whole mass. The line maintained a respectful distance outwards from the five cities, and also skewed upwards to include Seaband and the large coastal district there. Within it lay a large percentage of the blue, representing populace. As far as the white of the top-echelon transmissions went, the red boundary encompassed more or less all of their occurrences.

Joe stood motionless as the watchers digested this. Aurum-4, Anhalt Reinhardt to his friends, was the first to break the silence.

"So what are you actually showing us, Zhou?"

Joe turned back to the presentation.

"Good question. Right now, you are looking at our interpretation of DataTech operation Sentry-8. This is, as far as we know, an emergency contingency operation that was begun two metric months ago, and has recently been completed. Its primary aim is to withdraw industrial core facilities, government bodies, and vital scientific projects to a network of easily defensible positions. The operation is classified to such a level that not even the head of the DataTech air force is included amongst the illuminati."

Aurum-4 mused on this.

"So, you're saying that Project PowerClip is now behind Sentry-8?"

Joe nodded. "Actually, not only was Project PowerClip the first structure to be sequestered behind Sentry-8, it would be fair to say that PowerClip in many ways inspired Sentry-8."

Joe brought up various photographs of heavy industry mixed with scenes of hi-tech research laboratories and experiments.

"These are all major components of Project PowerClip, but early in the Project's life, it was decided that it was too dangerous to leave in a centralized system. So, the project was split evenly between the five cities you see on the map. Each city would continue work on the components in modular fashion, then when the components were all completed, they would be combined at separate locations to await further phases of construction."

Reinhardt wondered at this. "Wouldn't that be inefficient?" he asked.

"Decentralized, yes. Inefficient, no. Efficiency is relative. The DataTech knew that it would only be a matter of time before the Hiverian Intelligence Bureau got wind of their project. If they split up the project from the beginning, it would make it that much more difficult to derail. I would say that destiny has proven them right on this count - even though your nation spared not a single competent probe team, you have still failed thus far. And given that only two of you remain from the scores of probes, I'd say that your chances of success against the organization of Sentry-8 and PowerClip's security are practically nil. Efficiency is not necessarily speed. Sometimes, as now, it also relies on survivability."

Reinhardt nodded. "So: what would it take to derail the project? You still haven't told me."

Joe shrugged. "The Algorithm and I are still working on that. It's by no means impossible - it's just impossible for the likes of you."

"You're dodging the question," noted Reinhardt, with a trace of grudging amusement despite himself.

Joe enumerated. "Sentry-8 owes a fair amount of inspiration to the Hiverian method of base design. The majority of Sentry-8 consists of hundreds of kilometers of bunkers and underground corridors, with easily defensible exits to the surface. They link the networks of the cities, allowing for ease of delivery and logistics. Any large scale military attack on this base is likely to fail, as the crushing advantage to the defenders is both tactical and logistical. Remember that they can relocate men and materiel from nearly anywhere within an expanse of some ten thousand square kilometers to counter any threat. A small scale probe infiltration would be somewhat more feasible on paper, but the sheer scope of your objective, Operation PowerClip, is such that no small scale probe operation would be able to cause enough damage to derail PowerClip permanently."

Joe flicked through a series of screens showing possible points of entry into Sentry-8. Sewer entrances, disused bunkers, natural faultlines, even the majestic coastal caves near Seaband were a mooted possibility.

"Hence the paradox - the defences can withstand any given enemy seige. Only a probe team stands a chance of getting inside Sentry-8's vast area. But once inside, it would need the combined firepower of an army to do any worthwhile amount of damage. And as we said earlier, no army can realistically get in."

Reinhardt sucked his lip as Murath finished changing the vaccuum sling on his arm.

"Wouldn't the project actually become more vulnerable the closer it is to completion?" asked Reinhardt. "The components must be brought physically closer together, thus facilitating an attack."

Joe shook his head patiently. "Even if you're talking about a suicidal probe team, armed to the teeth with the best electromagnetic pulse generators that money can buy, you're still talking about taking out a fraction of the project, even if it's all right there. Let's take an example closer to home, and with an existing project. Have you ever seen the physical mainframes that house the physical shell of the LineLock Hunter-Seeker Algorithm?"

Reinhardt shook his head impatiently. Joe continued unperturbed.

"They were originally located not far from Zhengsi Yuan - Seat of Proper Thought. You could subject the place to high intensity airstrikes, that might destroy the mainframes. Or you might try marching in with an army and physically tear the mainframes apart. But in their natural state, those things take up the best part of a city block in size. Now try throwing two lone probers against them. What sort of progress could they possibly make before the security kicks in?"

Reinhardt was silent.

"My point is this - all the conventional rules of espionage don't apply here anymore. That's natural, Aurum-4, after all we're up against the very faction that wrote the book in the first place. I'm sharing everything I have with you for two reasons - the first, is that it will convince you and your masters of the futility of acting now. The second, is that your survival back to Hiverian territories is imperative, now that you have Agent Hu. Zeta-5 tells me that it has already held many fruitful conversations with Agent Hu, and that it is confident Hu will represent us fairly to your leaders. But he can only make it back if you take him, Reinhardt. And you can only take him if you survive."

"What about the project?" asked Reinhardt dully.

Joe shrugged again. "We'll deal with that as best we can in the coming future. I'm afraid we're going to have to leave it at that, too. Unless the Algorithm can think up of some superplan that trumps the whole field of conventional espionage overnight, we'll just have to keep on observing - and waiting."

* ~ * ~ *

As the Pirates continue to monitor the faint signals sent from the mountainside, another signal originates deep inside DataTech territory and flies outwards. Unusually large in its duration, it bounces across relays, heading out to a meeting with a longhaul Hiverian craft - nicknamed an "orbital" by the Hiverian High Command.

The lengthy signal is received, along with many hundreds of similar missives, but it stands out amongst the rest as it sports the fitting header code, in encoded binary. The orbital aircraft puts the message through the translators, and finds that it is encrypted with top codes. A quarter of an hour later, its decoders succeed in unravelling the receiver's name, and it is duly sent to Berzhinev.

Berzhinev receives the message with ill grace. He was, after all, recently awoken. However, as he reads the message and the video feed that comes with it, his surliness gives way in turn to wonder, mystification, panic, and disquieted relief. He immediately forwards the message to High Command, after a moment's pause to briefly consider editing the footage.

The Chairman watches the feed, and merely instructs his second, Zhu He Lai, to continue with his appointed agenda. However, lower down in the command chain, there is jubilation and a sense of purpose. The Second heads an extraordinary meeting of the leaders and discusses the status quo.

"We now have proof of Agent Hu's abduction, so the war against Iphiclia can be concluded at our leisure."

There was a huddled conversation amongst the military staff, some of whom supported the idea of further action against the DataTech.

"Furthermore, we have a few good leads on the location of Project PowerClip and its present status. We have also-" here Zhu nodded towards the Intelligence Head "-solved a slight mystery concerning one of our immortals overseas, missing for the previous few decades. It appears he had taken refuge after some legal misunderstanding, and would like Intelligence to clear his name."

Berzhinev rose to this, delivering a carefully worded report that the information would be used at such time, and in such increments, as was appropriate. Zhu thanked him inwardly for the brevity of his speech as he continued.

"However, it would appear that the Zeta-5 Consciousness, the old enemy of Provost Zakharov, is still extant and currently resides within the databanks of the Data Angels. The majority of the transmission concerns the exact composition and nature of this Consciousness, its primary algorithmic loops, and its contacts with Hiverian probe teams."

Zhu skimmed the relevant passages of the message, in its entirety occupying several megabytes of disk space on his palmtop computer.

"Here. Apparently, the Consciousness was responsible for extensive probing of the DataTech. What our operative knows about the DataTech Project PowerClip, and of their operation Sentry-8, was discovered only through the aid of the Consciousness. It would appear that the Consciousness wishes to ally itself with us, although it has yet to make a clear request either way."

General Ijoi was nonplussed. His main responsibility had been to oversee the intensive nerve gas bombing of the Harmonian lands and their Caretaker residents, and he had not appreciated losing resources to the DataTech war. In his opinion, the Caretakers took precedence over the DataTech in terms of threat, defences, and sheer military challenge, and if the upstart faction did indeed require a good Hiverian fight, they could wait their turn.

"So what do we decide?" he asked directly.

Zhu enumerated for the company.

"We must decide whether or not the war against the DataTech stops. If it does, we recommit our forces to fight the Caretakers. Secondly, we must decide what to do with the Consciousness. Do we need its help? Do we give it our own aid? The Diplomatic Corps need to answer these questions sometime soon. Finally, regardless of the war, or the Consciousness, we must stop Operation PowerClip at all costs. The DataTech have proven themselves quite capable and willing to side with the Caretakers, and the Peacekeepers have already made good on their promise to contain us militarily. We cannot allow the possibility of a strong enemy military to encircle us, not with Pravin Lal's milky hands working the controls."

* ~ * ~ *

The UN High Commissioner never heard these dubiously praising words. He was too busy dealing with the sudden reversal of the Gaians on three of his ten points to pay much attention to anything.

"May I ask why milady chooses to recant her earlier stance?" he asked, his expression giving way to a moue of concern.

Skye's face tilted in a noncommittal gesture of dismissal from its especially enormous screen (installed by vote of the Peacekeepers, many of whom considered her to be the most photogenic of the faction leaders). "My own views are nothing to those of my Senate," she said. "One of our Senators, McClelland, came back from the Hive recently, and he has been most outspoken in his defence of that faction."

Lal consulted his papers. "But a shift from 65:22 For, to 53:44 Against. I must admit I was not present during this year's XXXVIIth meeting of the Gaian Democratic Senate, milady, but how would you account for a paradigm shift of that magnitude?"

Skye shrugged again, the blood-red beads of her necklace curving on her smooth collarbones. "I shrink from saying it, but the original votes on your Ten Points represented only a scattered response from the Senators, my dear Commissioner. The returning Senator is a popular man - once he questioned the decision, people started to dispute it in earnest, sometimes even outside of Senate and our recesses." A shadow of a smile flickered across her face. "In fact, our final vote on these points was arguably the most thoroughly debated UN decision of the year."

Lal turned his face aside briefly to hide his chagrin. "So, you plan to turn a blind eye to the events on board the Unity?"

Skye smiled. "I have enough concerns of my own at the here and now. I am not entirely at liberty to pursue such a distant course of prosecution."

"And the Progenitor Wars?"

"Are no concern of mine," replied Skye sharply. Her eyes narrowed and her face grew slightly closed in aversion. "You are free to do as you please concerning the war against the Caretakers. But do not expect mercy towards the Progenitors from my people, who themselves received none in their time of need."

Lal sighed. "True enough, milady. But I should like to remind you that your condonement may directly allow the Hive to enslave and subjugate many more innocent souls."

"As your insistent condemnation may lead to a war you do not want and cannot win," retorted the Gaian. But the faint hostility left her face as suddenly as it came. "My apologies, dear Commissioner, but I have pressing affairs to see to. Let us speak again later, perhaps at the Council meeting."

Lal forced a smile. "Yes, I look forward to that. And thank you for your vote on this matter, too." As Skye's eyes turned back sharply, he continued. "The fact that we disagree is not crucial - what is crucial is that we do so democratically and civilly - with words, not weapons."

Skye was still evidently nonplussed as she signed off.

	01-07-2002 08:39									#42
	Got spare money?

Endgame

"Spartan, you say?" asked Zhu incredulously.

"Positive identification, Second," said Ijoi. "This was confirmed by one of our moles in the Spartan EconoMin."

"Does this include the naval forces as well?"

Ijoi shrugged. "I would assume it doesn't. The mole didn't mention any Spartan naval forces near the area. The Pirates don't have a significant land army or air force, and the DataTech air force was largely destroyed during Deinara Sound."

"So the Spartans were directly responsible for the attack." Zhu considered this briefly, then dismissed it for the time being.

"How are things on Harmonia?" he asked cordially.

"Terrible," said Ijoi. "The mountains and water all smell of rotten octopus. We suffered a slight setback when they managed to repair and field an interceptor squadron, but some of our Gata cannons were able to bring them down. Right now our primary concern is that we have pushed back the boundary too far. All the remaining Caretaker holdings are out of range for our penetrators to target."

Zhu consulted the map. "Can you capture and hold a temporary launch base for future operations?"

Ijoi shook his head. "Can't be done. The only way we can inflict damage on the Caretakers is through the deployment of nerve gas and incendiaries, both of which quickly render the bases uninhabitable. Conventional weapons are less effective against the Caretaker resonance defences, and our losses would be correspondingly greater."

Zhu nodded. "Persevere just a while longer, General. I expect the DataTech war will be over very shortly. Then you will receive your reinforcements, and the Caretaker threat will be swiftly neutralized."

* ~ * ~ *

The Hiverian fleet, much to the astonishment of the Nemo, had shrunk overnight. The carrier had disappeared, as had one of the cruisers. The skimships and remaining cruiser now huddled together in a paranoid clutch, perhaps awaiting more reinforcements.

It was clearly time to act.

The Nemo surfaced just long enough to detach a small cutter, and then closed its jawlike dock and dove once more. The cutter had no weapon or armor systems - merely an enlarged freighter bay and a small scout complement of sailors. The cutter sped towards a secluded lagoon, weighed anchor, and the scout troopers disembarked.

The beacon signals came from midway up the mountain, and was shielded from the Hive by the mass of the mountain itself. From their viewpoint, a jagged clearing marked an obvious descent of airborne debris, and an arduous trek proved this correct. There, they found the fuselage of the Hiverian bomber, minus wings and tail, half-buried in the soft topsoil of the forested slope.

The set about moving the bomber with gusto, operating with cutters and mini-lifters. However, it was not until one scout member sat down to rest that he noticed something odd about the signals. They were coming from the radio transmitters mounted just on the stump of each wing, but they had been altered by someone or something. They had been studiously cut free from their fixed positions, then turned a few degrees, and then welded back onto the fuselage. Although, in synchrony, they broadcasted in a seemingly random open arc, their overlaps met at a certain point out in the ocean.

The scout members themselves relayed the findings back to the Nemo, and then continued on their work, cutting the plane apart and bringing it down to the shore. The Nemo calculated the fluctuations in the pulse intensity (minute at this distance) and dove to examine the ocean shelf.

There, they discovered another damaged Hiverian bomber jet, lacking only the wings. The cockpit was sealed and airtight, and the systems were still active. However, no hails were acknowledged, and upon recovering the wreck, the pilot inside was found to have died of asphyxiation some seven hours previously. The log showed that the pilot, resting on the bottom, had radioed for help and received a few messages in return from the island. The observer on the island was able to fix the sunken plane's location, and had altered his own crashed craft's transmitters to indicate this finding.

Apart from the two craft, invaluable prizes as they were, there were scant traces of the mysterious observer on the island who had been of such great help in locating the planes. A few remnants of parachute lining were found, as well as the grey remains of a fire surrounded by numerous fruit pips and rodent bones. Notably, several discarded microsyringes of morphine and cocaine were found, as well as an inscription, etched into a nearby tree bole with a microcutter: Ave Sparta - non est finitum.

This was to occupy the minds of the Nautilus Pirates for some time. The DataTech, who six hours later at last received the treasured Fusion drives, thought about it little, if at all. The Spartans, on the other hand, recognized the valediction of their erstwhile servant, Major Pietr Hommel. If he truly was the benefactor of these deeds, then his struggle on the rugged island took on a heroic scope.

First, the problem of respiration was evident. It was possible that Hommel had been equipped with a flightmask whilst in the Hiverian jet, but the oxygen supply would have ceased with his ejection and he would have asphyxiated. It was also possible that he was wearing a simlite biosuit model, held in the mouth and with the respirator worn over the shoulders - this theory was marginally more feasible but the odds against the lightweight equipment surviving an air descent were high.

Secondly, and most obviously, the problem of Hommel's own injuries were overwhelming. His ejection from the jet severed his legs at the knee, but the extreme cold of the atmosphere stopped the bleeding. It was theorized that he had time to deploy his featherfall parachute and jets, setting down in the midst of the ocean and then floating over to the island after deploying the flotation cushion.

By the time he had arrived on the island, the other two jets behind him would have crashed. One did so into the ocean, much as Hommel's own, and the other was in good enough shape to attempt an emergency landing on the island itself. The pilot lacked formal training with the Hiverian controls, and evidently did not survive the landing - a reasonable enough outcome. Fortunately, his aircraft had survived.

Even more fortunately, Hommel had managed not only to survive, but also to arrange matters such that the Nautilus, operating on express interdict of the Spartans, were able to retrieve not one but two Fusion reactors from the site. The circumstances spoke for themselves, as far as the Spartans were concerned. What then needed to be resolved was how to retrieve Hommel's remains from the island. The Nautilus had no intention of combing the forested rockpile in search of a crippled soldier, not with the Hiverian fleet due to regroup and arrive at any moment. The Nemo, its task complete, left the area at top velocity and docked three hours later at the DataTech base of Applet Way.

From there, it was a series of bureaucratic delays and waiting for appropriate clearance, before the two Fusion reactors were sent onwards to the Seaband cliff face. There, one reactor was decomissioned and escorted into Sentry-8 labs. The other was characteristically refused entry, sent back to Applet Way, forwarded on to Ferretslair, and there finally brought to the abandoned hulk of the DataTech Economic Ministry before it was allowed access to the underground bunkers and finally, to the underground labs of Sentry-8.

This done, the Nautilus and Spartans reported to the DataTech the method of retrieval, and the DataTech radioed news of their successful reception back to the Peacekeeper leadership.

* ~ * ~ *

Lal received the news of the retrieval with mixed cheer. First, his mood was elation, as his dream of filching Fusion from the Hive drew inexorably nearer. Later, however, came the realization that the Nautilus and the Spartans had done this behind his back. He pondered briefly whether to send a memo of reprimand to the factions concerned, then decided to let it drop.

After all, there were more important things to be done.

"Let's begin," he said to Sarita.

The holopodes activated, with an accompanying fanfare, magnificently reproduced in algorithmic simulation. Banners deployed holographically, and the lights illumined a concentric ampitheater and central podium, redolent of the ancient United Nations building in a graveyard metropolis on a dead homeworld.

Lal scanned the holopodes of the other factions, and the real-life presence of their envoys. There were the Spartans, immaculate in their uniforms and sporting their symbolic battle armor, heavy about the chest and shoulders. There were the Morganites, lounging in their casual languor and almost indolent comfort. The Gaians formed a somewhat awkward delegation, unused to the grandiose and marbled surroundings of the UNP Assembly Hall, and to its somewhat overzealous air conditioning. The Nautilus chair was headed by Svensgaard's trusted lieutenant, "Hemlock" Jones, and the DataTech seat was unsurprisingly scanty - the DataJack had been unable to spare much of her staff in these times of trouble.

Sarita noted the absentees, as well as those present, and the 47th UN Assembly formally began.

"May the rights of man, and the edicts of God, guide our judgement today. In unity is strength."

The UNP mantra finished, Lal turned and began his speech.

"As the Planetary Council grows, and as the cooperation between factions and fellow men increases, we welcome more peoples and their wise leaders to our forum." He turned to face each faction as he spoke, his attitude regal, giving only the slightest of bows to show his gratitude. "It has always been the watchword of our Charter and mission that cooperation amongst our brothers and sisters is the only acceptable plan for the future. We are pleased to greet our fellow leaders, and we urge you to make use of this community and forum to air your issues."

Sarita noticed an insistent blinking on Lal's personal caller - top priority channels. Either Lal had forgotten to switch it off, or he wasn't able to. A brief cough later, and Lal too noticed it. He continued nonetheless, but discreetly making his way to the UNP podium as he did so.

"In this day and age, we can no longer afford conflict as an acceptable means of resolution. It has been shown that conflict merely engenders further conflicts, and that these conflicts themselves become an obstacle to peaceful resolution of any legitimate issue. The United Nations was founded to allow for dialogue, and to solve problems through discussion, not war. To this noble mission, I would like to dedicate this meeting of the UNP Council to our newly attendant members - the Spartan Federation, and the DataTech Enclave. Long may your presence grace the Council! Long may your wisdom add to its efforts!"

As the sound of applause pattered through the hall, Lal switched off his mic and sat down, giving Dr Kakani his slot to speak on the importance of science. Lal briefly hoped Kakani would keep it short and not embark on impromptu discourses, as the scientist was sometimes wont. In any case, it hardly mattered - Lal was pleased with his initial speech, and it was evident that the Spartans and DataTech were beginning to accept their welcome.

Sarita tapped his arm and handed him his datapad. The red caller light, the top priority hail, was still blinking. But who would be sending such a comms hail at this time? His curiosity overcoming his momentary irritation, Lal turned down the volume and answered the hail.

"Commissioner Lal of the United Nations Peacekeepers," he said softly.

The face on the other end was aged, irritable, and sour. It peered out from behind two chromatic eyepieces with an expression of predominant impatience and disdain. Its hair was wild and unkempt. It had evidently not shaved in a while.

"Commissoner, you are beginning Council in the Assembly Hall," pronounced the startling apparition flatly.

Lal was taken aback, both by the speaker and by his bluntness. "Why, yes, dear Provost-" he began.

"Then you can kindly activate two more holopodes for our representatives. We intend to attend this meeting, as there are many important trespasses to discuss."

Lal's mind, quick on the uptake, was already considering the potential rewards of befriending the University. Could it be that the Provost, of all people, was finally joining Council against the Hive? The thought filled him with a forbidden delight.

"Of course, Provost, we are always happy to receive new members. In fact, we have already welcomed the Spartans and the DataTech to their first meeting. It would give me great pleasure to welcome your enlightened-"

"Yes, yes, good, good," interrupted the Provost with acerbic distaste. "In which case stand by to receive our authorization codes."

Lal nodded and gestured to Sarita, who was ready with the decryptors.

"Provost, we value each and every opinion from all our leaders. We hope that you will grace our Council with your wisdom."

"Yes, well - it had to happen someday," said the Provost with ill humor, turning back to the screen absently. In the background, Lal could not help noticing with some slight chagrin, the Provost appeared to be playing some sort of three-dimensional chess game.

Sarita cleared her throat. "Transmission cleared, Commissioner. Appended was an extra data loop, possibly meaningless."

Lal gave Zakharov a warm smile and spoke. "Welcome to the Council, dear Provost. We have your authorization codes and they have cleared."

Zakharov turned back, his eyes snapping back to the present. "Well?" he asked, looking around.

Lal stood up in Council, cutting Kakani short. He turned to face the gathered crowds.

"Friends and fellow Councilmen, I have an important announcement to make!" His voice rang out across the hall in a bold baritone. "Today, on the 47th Extraordinary Meeting of the United Nations Assembly, we welcome another illustrious faction to our voting ranks. Please extend your welcome to the Provost Zakharov, representative of the University of Planet."

In synchrony with his voice, the holopode cleared his codes and the Provost's head appeared in front of the collected Council of Planet - rendered in three dimensions, hovering in midair like a disembodied specter. It drew a widespread gasp - the majority of the people present had never seen the Provost outside of the news reports. Many had never even seen a person simply as old as he was. Some people applauded.

The effect was partially marred by the fact that the good Provost was initially facing away from the viewers, shutting down terminals and putting his game of 3D wei qi on hold, before turning back distractedly.

His words, upon looking around at the surroundings and the Assembly Hall, were even less auspicious.

"What have you done?" he demanded. "We asked for two holopodes!"

Lal's smile wavered and he faltered slightly before gesturing curtly to Sarita. "Of course, dear Provost. My apologies."

The Provost's face, hanging in midair, suddenly acquired a twin, hovering a few meters away, above the other holopode. The Provost immediately squinted both eyes tight shut and shook his head rapidly from side to side. Holographic hands came up to shield his face.

"No, no, no!" he hollered in deafening unison from both holopodes. "Now I see everything twice! Dammit!" The microphones began an ominous squeal from the feedback loop, and Lal scrambled over to the controls himself.

"How about this?" he asked. The newer head disappeared.

The Provost opened his eyes. "That's better. Now I see everything once. But what about the other holopode?"

Lal was beginning to regret his haste in letting the Provost in. "What do you mean?" he asked, a crack beginning to show in his self-control.

Zakharov checked his transmission. "When we sent you the codes we sent them both. What have you done with the other half?"

Lal gave the nonplussed audience a nervous smile and rushed back to Sarita. "What? Both? You mean you sent two codes?"

Zakharov sighed with strained patience. "Yes," he said slowly. "We sent two codes."

Sarita, quicker on the technological uptake, scanned the code sent by the Provost, and located the latter half - an extra data loop. "This is a code?" she asked. "But it's a data loop!"

Zakharov looked up and nodded patronizingly, his brittle mood deteriorating. "Yes, my dear. It's how they do data these days. Extra algorithmic encryption. Feed it into the holopode and let us start this whole circus."

Lal bit his lip at the heavy-handedness of the Provost's words. There was no call for this sort of misbehavior in Council. The Provost had better be bringing something good to the forum, or else he would get a good dressing down during the recess.

Sarita decoded and fed the data loop into the dormant holopode, as the leaders watched with growing interest and, in some cases, wry amusement. None of them were prepared for what happened next.

The holopode suddenly became full of snow and static and a horrendous squealing sound that forced everybody to cover their ears. The disturbance continued for several seconds, eventually clearing up as the data loop fought through the layers upon layers of encryption in the signal. The tortured effort finally brought an intelligible image onscreen.

Lal's heart missed a beat as he recognized who it was. The hearts of the other faction reps leapt to their throats. For a time, nobody could speak - not a word of welcome, or the diplomatic mantras of the United Nations. Eventually, the voice from holopode itself broke the lengthening silence.

"Commissioner Pravin Lal. It is an honor to meet you again."

Silence. Lal flicked an uneasy look towards the other faction leaders, who seemed as shocked as himself. The Provost was the only exception, watching the proceedings with a laconic disinterest.

The vision spoke again.

"Apologies for the code relay. But as your probes know from years of experience, our Hunter-Seeker Algorithm does not lend itself well to top secret transmissions. This is the only way I could be present at your august Council."

Lal finally found his voice, though not his manners.

"You-!" he said venomously.

The figure bowed its cropped head slightly. "The very same: Chairman Sheng Ji Yang."

Last edited by Alinestra Covelia on 01-07-2002 at 12:04

	04-07-2002 06:43									#43
	Support Apolyton, buy Call to Power 2

Endgame

Li Min crept through the shadows of the stairwell, his pistol out, in the grey pre-dawn haze. There hadn't been any noise since he'd watched the Hiverians leave, but he wouldn't have put it past them to seed the place with booby traps.

His hand trembled slightly on the pistol - his fingers were bleeding, and his index fingertip was bandaged. His eyes were clearer than before, and his breathing was steadier. Earlier, as the firefight outside died down, Li Min had finally collapsed of exhaustion and slept a troubled spell in the turret. Though he had hardly dared to believe it, his crude defences had kept the Hiverians away. Either that, or they hadn't thought to come look for him.

A glance told him that the central entranceway was clear, but he didn't trust it. Were he in their shoes, he would have left traps behind. No - scratch that. Were he in their shoes, he would have made damn sure that the last remaining enemy agent was dead.

He cautiously peered around the corner, noting with no particular surprise that the electronic door to the lower levels and infirmary was now ajar. It figured - the blasted thing had refused to open when he'd needed to get in. What he couldn't understand was how the Hiverians had managed to get it open. Of course, the logical deduction would be that they had hacked it beforehand to proof it against him, but that then begged another question - how had they hacked it from outside?

Li Min made his way to the dry storage hoard, where he had secreted a small optrimeter scanner earlier. A preliminary scan indicated no devices in the hallway, but did not exclude the possibility of cruder traps. Li Min dithered - he had seen enough high-tech lethality in the course of his mission, but it was equally possible that they had left behind something simple, like caltrops or a tripwire.

He took off the optrimeter and peered around the corners. Nothing happened.

With a sudden disgust at the whole charade, Li Min did something uncharacteristic - he holstered his weapon, strolled out into the hallway, and damned the consequences.

He made it to the laboratory unmolested. There, things were largely unchanged, except that the freezer safe had been opened, and its partial occupant evicted. Li Min checked the hidden cameras around the room - they had not been touched. That meant that he had evidence of the intrusion.

Well, it was better than nothing. He sat down heavily on the operating table and thought. DataTech Interior would want a copy of the evidence, if only for archival purposes. Perhaps it would also indicate to them how badly things were falling apart in the probe industry. Li Min had undertaken this mission in the hopes that the full forces of the clinically precise M/MI divers could take over once the head was delivered.

Instead, he came back to a nation frozen by the sealing of all governmental intercourse, and where he could not contact his superiors without endangering himself. It had eventually fallen to him and his partner to trawl the head through M/MI. After two days of fruitless interrogation, the brain of Hu was gone, and Huang was dead.

Li Min shook his head. The M/MI divers could have operated in a matter of mere hours and found out what they had needed to. But the clinical facilities and the talented personnel required for the task were simply not available - of course, they were there all right, but Li Min was no longer one of those who could convince them to work on his project. Once the nation had started its dive towards a police state, all resources had been diverted towards governmental initiatives. Small fry such as Li Min were very low down on the ladder when it came to haggling for their limited attention.

He logged on wearily at the net let, connecting manually. This was the sort of inefficiency you had to suffer once your nation abandoned democracy. It was no longer a case of rewarding ability, it was now a case of rewarding power to take it. He wondered how the Hive had managed to grow to such a size without imploding under the weight of inefficiency in its monolithic system. Perhaps the answer lay in psychology, not sociology. Was the Hiverian mindset so unique?

The evidence sped on its way to the common net nodes, where Interior might or might not one day pick it up and file it.

* ~ * ~ *

Lal paced the recess chamber with his Privy Council in mute perplexity, pondering what course of action to take.

Recess had been declared at this unprecedented juncture, with four new factions suddenly taking part in a Council that was no longer the same.

Lal tapped his teeth with his finger, squinting slightly in deep thought. Sarita watched him warily.

"The Hive are here," he said matter-of-factly. "But we weren't prepared for them."

"How could they have come into Council so suddenly?" asked Landert, the Education Minister.

"It looks like they piggybacked their code on the Provost's transmission," said Kakuni, with a grudging respect. "That way we couldn't tell what it was before we opened it."

Lal shook his head. It had been brilliantly planned - just after the opening speech of welcome for all new factions, the Hive then forced their way into Council. The Peacekeepers would have lost tremendous face in opposing them, after their earlier welcoming exuberance. Now, Lal would have to play it by ear if he could.

"Check all their previous transmissions for similarly coded data loops. We don't want them pulling a similar stunt. We want to know each and everything they've sent us," said Lal finally. Behind him, Kakuni busied himself with the task. But even as he did so, Lal silently acknowledged the likely futility of this tactic. Though he had to be wary of undetected hidden messages, perhaps to be used in the old 'but we told you so' gambit, something told him the Hive would be making their point today through different means. In any case, such a means smacked of lowly pedantry, and it was hard to imagine the Chairman resorting to it.

Still, safety measures were safety measures.

"Get me the DataTech," he said at length. "First, we'll concentrate on the Hiverian crimes against the UN Charter. Then we'll talk about Iphiclia."

Lal pondered. All in all, perhaps Providence had been good. The Hive were fighting an unpopular and distressing war, and the Peacekeepers were ready to push for election as the Council Governors. Had the Hive remained in absentia during their trial and conviction, questions would have lingered. Far better that they be shown for the enemy that they truly were in Council - in full view, in the eyes of the whole world.

Sarita was not quite finished. "Commissioner, we have one top priority message from the Hiverian Second, Zhu He Lai."

Lal's pulse quickened. Was this to be the start of the unseen maneuvering? A bribe? A sop? A full-scale defection?

"What does it say?" he asked. Sarita decoded it and read.

"He writes to inform you that the Hiverian nomenclature places the surname first and the individual name last. He observes that most UNP documents refer to their leader as 'Chairman Yang'. Apparently, in formal situations it should be 'Chairman Sheng'. He offers this information so we may correct our records in future."

Lal grunted, unimpressed.

"I think we've survived pretty well with the glaring inaccuracy," he said, a trace of contempt in his voice. "The Hiverians will just have to grin and bear it."

Then, with a dismissive wave of his hand, he summoned his privy council back to the Assembly Hall.

* ~ * ~ *

"The Arbitration Council of the United Nations now calls its first item," announced the speaker. "The condemnation of the Hiverian genocide campaign against the Caretaker faction."

Lal stood and took his place at the podium.

"Since the Hiverian military action began against the Caretaker faction in UndecLuna 2225, they have clearly engaged in acts of genocide. They have acted without quarter, mercy, or humanity, opting only to destroy the race and to clear Planet of all vestiges of its culture. Furthermore, the Hiverian air force has clearly employed nerve gas and incendiary weapons during the course of this conflict - all forbidden in warfare by the Humane Convention Act of the UN Charter. The Hive stands before this tribunal accused of ongoing war crimes and gross miscarriages of justice. The UN Council calls upon the Hiverian leader, Chairman Yang, to respond to these accusations."

All eyes passed from Lal's solitary spotlight to the impassive face of the Hiverian leader. There is an inscrutable expression on his face, as though amused by something beneath contempt.

"You are very concise in your analysis of our aims," he said. "Indeed, we fully intend to eliminate the Caretaker faction in whole, and we are committed to use every means at our disposal to do so. Our war is conducted with the harsh lessons learned from the Usurper variants, whose campaign against the University nearly robbed us of the presence of the good Provost Zakharov. The peoples of no fewer than three factions have endured unbearable hardships under the Progenitor yoke - we undertake their destruction with this knowledge in mind."

Lal noticed a few assenting nods from the University reps and - surprisingly - the Gaians. He stored this alarming fact in his mind as the Chairman continued.

"Nowhere in the UN Charter or the Humane Convention Act are the Progenitors mentioned. The atrocity in question - namely, the willful destruction of civilian life - is clearly defined in Clause Aleph-334c, and the definition does not include any mention of xenofungus, mind worms, fungal towers, or other sentient Chironian lifeforms. By natural extension, there is no mention of Progenitors."

The Chairman glanced offscreen momentarily, then returned, his speech hardly breaking.

"Indeed, your own august Council debated the Progenitors' status in the Charter, during the 46th meeting. I need hardly mention that the motion to include them was soundly defeated. Nor need I remind you that the Progenitors themselves refused attendance. Such a species is not only foreign to ourselves as humans, but also to all the precepts that formed this Council. By what right, therefore, do you presume to invoke UN Senatorial punishments against this species? For what transgression can the Hive be held to blame?"

Lal rose to his feet and gesticulated grandly. "The very fact that you are willing to deploy such weapons in the first place indicates a chilling lack of concern for life. What is to stop you from using them against humans?"

The Chairman's eyes grew thoughtful. "An intriguing point, dear Commissioner, and you have just touched upon a matter of considerable moral discussion within the Hiverian command. However, I believe our present actions speak for themself - note that in our wars against the Believers and now the DataTech, we have steadfastly refrained from using any such tactics against our fellow men. Furthermore, we have refrained from carrying out exactly the sort of civilian human persecution of which you accuse us. All of our targets have been military, and it is against all Hiverian policy to attack civilian targets. A pity that the DataTech did not observe such courtesies when they slaughtered and abducted our diplomat."

"And what of the seizure of all trade vessels to the island?" snapped the Commissioner quickly.

"The seizure was just that: a seizure," responded the Chairman. "Vessels were impounded prior to a declaration of war, and the crews were held in asylum until such time as hostilities cease. This is standard procedure, and I fail to see how you intend to link it to your accusation of atrocities. What we see here is no atrocity, merely a disagreement of policy - which alone cannot debar a faction from Council. Indeed, there are those who would argue that securing the safe holding of civilian crews prior to an outbreak of war is a highly humane act."

Lal felt his momentum slipping away somewhat. He decided to try another tactic, blocking the nods and murmurs of the Morganites from his mind.

"Now you're avoiding the question," he said diplomatically. "To whit: how do you answer for the brutal loss of life and the danger to Planetary environment that your non-conventional weapons are inflicting?"

The Chairman seemed genuinely surprised by this question at first, and Lal thought he saw an appreciative nod or two from the Gaians. So far, so good. His tentative joy evaporated as the Chairman responded.

"Our sole aim on Harmonia is to clear the continent of the Caretaker Progenitors. Your very own Council voted against the granting of human rights to the Caretakers. Therefore, our deployment of nerve gas is essentially no different from the deployment of fungicidal compounds by your formers - both are tools used to clear an area of native life in order to encourage terraforming. Should your Council overrule its earlier finding, then we shall consider our actions in a new light. But until you effect such a ruling as draws a link between the rights of men, and the rights of alien life, do not presume to label our campaign against the Caretakers as 'inhumane'. By such a flawed assumption, your fungicidal terraformers stand guilty of the grossest and most systematic atrocities of all humanity."

Lal flicked a switch and the collage of images appeared onscreen - Caretaker bases, burned from the inside outwards. Caretaker bodies, pulped from their death vibrations. Caretaker flesh, mottled as it burned away in the acrid atmosphere. He chanced a glance around, and saw the reactions on the faces of the faction representatives. The sight filled him with new hope.

"So you have no appreciation for the suffering you cause for such beings as these?" asked the Commissioner drily.

The Chairman's eyes hooded and he spoke with clarity. "Remember Clause Aleph-334c, Pravin: the Progenitors have no rights. They suffer no more than does the xenofungus, when you melt its fronds with your oxides and alkalis." His expression returned to its usual state of dispassion. "After all, you and your Council set these regulations - I merely follow them."

Lal scowled at the cavalier use of his given name. "I supported no such clause," he bit out.

The Chairman consulted for a split second. "No, that much is correct," he conceded. "It appears you were outvoted 2-1 by the Council during the 46th meeting." The Chairman cast his eyes downwards. "My sincere condolences."

A loud guffaw rang out from somewhere to Lal's left - probably somebody in the Morganite delegation. Lal ignored it and pressed the issue forwards regardless, despite his growing sense of ridiculousness.

"The accusation stands - that the Hive faction, under Chairman Yang, has engaged in inhumane and unacceptable practices on Harmonia. The Hive has denied these accusations. All those in favor of further prosecution?"

The Gaian and Peacekeeper representatives made clear their vote.

"And against?"

The Hive vote arrived almost instantaneously. It was followed at a decent interval by that of the University, and - to Lal's dismay - the Morganites. Lal had suspected the amoral University would support the Chairman's evil actions, but to find Morgan arrayed against him was a profound shock. An even greater horror suggested itself to him - perhaps the Morganites were doing this just to spite the DataTech's final remaining ally?

Recess had barely been called, before he was patching through to Morgan.

"My good Commissioner-" began Morgan with a grin.

"What on Planet are you doing?" demanded Lal. "Are you saying you actually approve of what they do?"

Morgan chuckled and waved a hand lightly, but Lal could see the evasion in his eyes. "Hard to tell," said Morgan smugly. "Ultimately, when it comes down to it, they do have a point, Pravin. If you carry this through to a tribunal, they'll tear the case apart and the Hive will still be innocent then as they are now. However, if they'd gassed a DataTech cruiser, or bombarded a DataTech Childrens' Creche, or executed a DataTech village something a bit more photogenic..." Morgan gestured wistfully.

Lal cut him short. "That's hardly relevant," he said. "Don't you see? It doesn't actually matter whether they come out of it guilty or innocent. The vital thing is that unpleasant questions be asked. And once the crowds start asking questions, even if the tribunal finds the Hive innocent, there will always be the unwanted attention - the media exposure to their ruthlessness - the Guardian's own broadcasts of despair and destruction." Lal's eyes blazed with exasperation. "Dammit, Morgan, all we had to do was drag this to a tribunal trial and their reputation would have been irreparably crushed!"

Morgan shrugged. "You're the diplomat, not I. In future, you would do well to tell me what it is that we are supposed to be voting for. I merely assumed in my ignorance, that we were voting for whether this accusation was worthy of a tribunal. I didn't realize we were voting on whether or not we could skewer the Hive over a publicity drubbing." He sipped at his drink. "If I'd known, I'd have prepared my demands in good time."

Lal pondered his next item - the demand for the Hiverian withdrawal from all lands DataTech. His heart sank as he considered Nwabudike Morgan's saturnine face, beaming with ill-disguised pleasure at his discomfort. Some refusals, he reflected, did not even need to be requested.

"Very well," he said. "Let your morals guide you, Morgan. Every man faces a time when he has only those to do so - pity the guideless soul then!"

* ~ * ~ *

Lal had held discreet meetings with the Nautilus, DataTech, and the Spartans in the hour-long recess from the Arbitration Council. He could not fight the first item, and he knew it. The Harmonian gambit had failed, thrown wildly by the sudden emergence of the Hive and University as voting factions - but he could still very feasibly salvage the latter points. Thus, he had met with the representatives of Svensgard, Roze, and Santiago briefly, to formalize his stance on the DataTech item, and to ensure their support. Namely, that the Hive were resorting to warfare in order to resolve issues, and in so doing endangering global peace - the Council was to put a precipitate end to this warmongering.

Svensgard and Roze had naturally agreed without question, and Santiago had proven far less recalcitrant than earlier, coming to a decision with minimal coercion. Lal wondered at this - could it be that her recent military contact with the Hive had opened her eyes to their imminent threat? Regardless of the source of her consternation, Lal was grateful for it - whatever it was, it was proving a most useful help.

Lal and his privy council returned to the bright auditorium of the Assembly Hall once more, as the Speaker began to summarize the previous item.

"The Council acknowledges the overturn of its first proposal," announced the Speaker. "The Hiverian Harmonia campaign cannot be classified as crimes against humanity." There were, at this juncture, the usual flurry of challenges from the Peacekeepers and (hearteningly) the Gaians, but the Speaker knew the regulations as well as they, and they were ignored.

"We move to the next item for discussion - the Hiverian invasion of the DataTech mainland, and the military action taken against a peace-loving and democratic state."

A murmur arose amongst the assembled delegates, but the Speaker continued.

"Commissioner Pravin Lal, would you clarify the case against the Hive?"

Lal stood up and took his place once more, an expression of calculating anticipation on his features. His voice, when he spoke, was soft and appreciative, but with the hint of a slow relish behind it.

"With great pleasure, Speaker."

* ~ * ~ *

Last edited by Alinestra Covelia on 04-07-2002 at 08:24

	04-07-2002 20:30									#44
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Endgame

Li Min sat down amidst the ruins of his castle and pondered. He was nonplussed, disgruntled, and unnerved. The lattermost emotion filled him with greatest fear.

Internal had refused even to accept his drop-in report. This was unusual - he could understand it if the network had refused him access to material, or blocked an attempt to manipulate files, but this submission of information was the most basic of functions. Why did it refuse to accept something so mundane as CCTV footage? Either Internal had soared to heights of further paranoia, or somebody somewhere was messing with things they are not wont to.

Li Min connected manually, and began to trawl through the nodes last visited by Huang. This was an intriguing development, and it was hardly as though he had anything better to do. The fortress had a decent store of perishables, and the fission reactors had come back online with the departure of the enemy probe team. Li Min decided it was time to see what Interior were up to.

* ~ * ~ *

Back in the Assembly Hall, Lal was working up to a good climax, in fine fettle.

"The United Nations cannot condone the present Hiverian action against the DataTech people. We do not operate on a basis of allowing factions to vote in Council whilst they are transgressing basic axioms of its Charter. Thus, the United Nations calls upon the Hiverian faction to desist in any and all military action in and around Iphiclia and all holdings of the DataTech. Furthermore, we move to condemn the Hiverian attack as an attack by a militaristic hegemon upon a democratic and peace-loving nation. We call upon the Hive to withdraw their forces from DataTech territories immediately."

In the dim and distant University headquarters, the Provost sniffed derisively. "The minnow threatens the pike." He then placed another white disc on the framework in front of him, satisfied with his move.

Back in Council, Lal gave way, to the accompaniment of light applause, to the representative of the DataTech - a strong-jawed woman with a businesslike demeanor.

"DataTech speaker Roberta Grysel," announced the Speaker.

"The Hiverian war against our people has lasted for a month." Grysel's voice was authoritative, but controlled. The viewers saw a woman who had faced trials alongside her people, and who would best them. "During this month, our people fear daily for their safety, their trade, and their very lives."

("Aren't two of those the same thing?" muttered the Provost under his breath. In the background, his aide Jorenson smiled despite himself.)

"Our situation," Grysel continued, "grows more desperate by the hour. However-" here she fixed the audience with a piercing green gaze "-it would be criminal folly to believe that our trials have just begun. The truth of the matter is, our brave people have been threatened for decades by the Hive. Though they have moved against us only recently, our hardships and trials began far earlier. Only now, through the grace of God and the justice of the democratic world, have our sufferings become known to Planet."

Grysel activated the holopode and certain news images flickered across it. "Our first contact with the Hive was through a diplomatic exchange with their ambassador, Zhou Huan Wei. Trusting in their integrity and sense of honor, we allowed their agent Zhou to reside within our territory and to open channels of communication with the Hiverian government."

The headlines changed and news of a scandal filled the space on the holopode, along with accusations and rebuttals between factions.

"We now know that Agent Zhou was responsible for a vast and deepseated organization on Iphiclian soil, codenamed 'NetIfic'. This organization was responsible for the theft of various technologies, including Environmental Economics from Aquascante. Those of us who lived through those times may remember the shock waves created by this grandscale crime, as well as the mystery as to its perpetrator."

Grysel fast forwarded to another display, several years more recent than the first.

"At that time we had no reason to suspect our seemingly trustworthy neighbors, the Hive. It was not until we smashed the NetIfic spy ring that we learned the true scale of the Hiverian infiltration of our ranks."

Arrests, trials, executions - all from the era of NetIfic, and all made public knowledge only recently.

"The UN has already received a complete report of the incident and its repercussions. The UN has also been made aware of the knowledge that was stolen from us, robbing our scientists of their good work. Make no mistake, our faction has been forced to endure a unilaterally exploitative relation with our hulking neighbor, and it is with tentative joy that our people can hope to be freed from this terrible oppression."

The Provost was still shaking his head in disbelief. Words failed him at this juncture.

"The United Nations calls upon the Hiverian representative to answer the accusations," announced the Speaker.

This time, it was a long-faced European man who answered.

"I am Arkady Berzhinev, of the Hiverian Diplomatic Corps. It is my duty and pleasure to respond to the testimony of DataTech Grysel." Berzhinev adjusted his lenses and continued. "I deny that Hiverian probes have ever undertaken to acquire any technology from the Aquascante factions. I also deny that Hiverian probes have engaged in any condemnable acts of espionage that are measurably worse than similar acts perpetrated against us and our allies, the University."

As the DataTech representatives murmured in mild (but hardly surprised) outrage, Berzhinev brought up a series of screens showing transmissions between DataTech ministries.

"Observe - the injunction from the former DataKnave Fusili to authorize a download of the Environmental Economics technology. Note the clear order to steer away from Gaian nodes, as they are too easily traced. Note the express injunction to target a Peacekeeper node, owing to the lesser efficiency of their probe proofing."

Berzhinev cycled through and found the transmission he was looking for. It was a Hiverian one, and the audience knew it, if their sudden interest and jottings were reliable signs.

"By contrast, our own directives. These were published by my forebear, Tobias Ballantyne, and as such are no longer valid under our present diplomatic practices." A few faces seemed to lose their rapt awe, a few fingers fell silent on keypads. "Note the injunction from T Ballantyne acknowledging the good work of NetIfic, in its acquisition of Environmental Economics from the DataTech."

Berzhinev readjusted his glasses before continuing.

"But - this is all academic, hypocrisy aside. We do not live in a vaccuum. Each nation owes some facet of its existence to diplomatic activities, legal or otherwise, and we are no exception. Nor are the DataTech - we have positive proof that they have attempted to spy on our high-level staff. Nor are you, dear Commissioner - if you consult your records, you will find that my LineLock Hunter-Seeker Algorithm has thwarted no fewer than seven discrete attempts by Peacekeeper probe teams to access Hiverian information networks. So do not expect us to acknowledge any wrongdoing when you and your own allies do the same to the rest of the world, and you call it 'Freeflow of Information'."

Ignoring both the shouts of protestation from the UN and DataTech, as well as the shouts of approval from the Morganites, Berzhinev continued.

"Thus I believe we have addressed the accusation of oppressing and traumatizing the infant DataTech national psyche with our probe activities." Berzhinev's face briefly cracked a lopsided smirk as he continued. "I shall now answer the second accusation levelled against the Hive - in the words of the Commissioner, that we are militaristic hegemons intent on subjugating a peace-loving democracy."

Berzhinev activated his own holopode demonstration.

"I would like to draw your attention now to the findings of our own probes in democratic, peace-loving Iphiclia. These stills show the law enforcers dealing with undesirable individuals through the use of tear gas and batons. The transgressors in this incident were those who failed to produce adequate personal identification under Clause 208."

The crowd reaction was mixed, ranging from nonchalant disinterest on the part of the Hive and University, to hurried consultation amongst the Peacekeepers, to outright indignation amongst the Gaians.

"Another startling facet of the progressive fledgling democracy is shown in its militia. This is a holovid of the RapCafe Blue - a haven for seekers of freeflow of information, as well as freeflow of cheap ethanol. Note the twelve soldiers standing guard in the foyer - these soldiers are not paying for their rent, for the DataTech Interior has ruled a state of emergency and demanded that the citizenry give the army their full support. Evidently the DataTech have grasped a fundamentally sound and workable social order that has functioned smoothly alongside them for decades. Unfortunately for you, Commissioner, this social order is a Police State, and we the Hive are the example they have chosen to follow."

Lal interrupted testily. "Regardless of the dubious veracity of your claims, Mr Berzhinev, even you cannot deny that the DataTech have had adequate reason - courtesy of your faction's aggression - to adopt this regrettable political order. The bridge to democracy is a steep and fragile one, even with support from the international community. When a young democracy meets with a brutal dictatorship intent on subjugation such as yours, one cannot fault them for a political slip in the interests of self-preservation."

There were murmurs of approval, none louder than those coming from the DataTech. From Grysel, however, there was only silence - she was engaged in a heated discussion with the DataJack Sinder Roze, concerning an extremely distressing transmission from the contact just outside the Chairman's quarters at the Hiverian headquarter base - The Hive. Grysel listened grimly to the details, then turned back to watch the Hiverian delegation, a cold, sinking certainty in her gut.

After Lal had finished in his impassioned defence of the DataTech, Berzhinev made a dismissive motion with his hand and smiled disarmingly. "So much for the matter of a helpless democracy. I have nothing further to say on this matter - let us now take a look at something considerably more sinister. I would very much like to be able to say that we made this discovery on our own, and I wish that my bureau could take responsibility for this alarming information. But to do so would be to cheat the Provost's own capable information sources - to whom we are all grateful."

Berzhinev brought up a series of visions onscreen that were immediately and uncomfortably recognizable to the DataTechs present. For the benefit of the others, however, he elaborated. The Provost was still somewhat bemused, not because he had the slightest interest in DataTech locales, but because he could not at that moment summon the memory from his formidable mind, of exactly how he had helped the Hive in this fashion.

"I would like to draw your attention to the following locations on DataTech territory," he said. "DataDeCentral, Ferretslair, Moonshadow, Ergonomia, and Applet Way. The Bayband natural crystal caves. The Cliffview airbase. The graceful Palace of Governor Halls at Data DeCentral."

Somebody in the Council shouted at him to get on with it. Somebody else made a facetious comment about travel brochure diplomacy. Berzhinev smiled self-deprecatingly and held up a palm of mock surrender.

"Very well, onto the main find. We discovered that production at these five bases has followed a staggered approach, and that the three landmarks mentioned earlier were serving as the main points of ingress to a vast and complex underground network, codenamed Sentry-8 by the DataTech. Whilst we were initially flattered that they had decided to adopt Hiverian base architecture, we later made a startling and distressing discovery."

Berzhinev's affected good nature evaporated suddenly as he activated the holopode and brought up scenes of surprising malignancy. Pre-natal surgery - electronic organ replacements - cranial trepanning to allow for neural grafts. Scenes of exposed bone and skull, gleaming next to glittering smooth metal parts, as the beauty of flesh and the dignity of metal fused in amateurish nightmares to form abominations. Pulsing veins and raw nerves drawn flat against meshes of tweezered wiring. Mottled pia mater, intercrossed with cooling systems to comfort the exposed brain and bring efficiency to the electric circuits that burrowed beneath the brain stem in the foul union of that unspeakable banned technology: military M/MI.

"Of course," cautioned Berzhinev, "they haven't actually finished the project yet. I expect that when they do, the aesthetic side of things might be somewhat more palatable."

"What is the meaning of this... this obscenity?" demanded Lal, his voice quivering with anger.

Berzhinev gestured towards the DataTech contingent, who were watching with mute silence and - damningly - dispassion. "You might wish to ask your peace-loving democrats," he said lightly. "This is their Cyborg Factory, codenamed Project PowerClip. It has been under production for nearly two decade years now, and it is nearing completion even as we speak."

There was silence in the Assembly Hall. Grysel, sitting at her place, felt the full focus of all her allies and partners, now looking upon her in questioning gazes: could this be true? Or in the eyes of some, notably the University, and some of the Peacekeepers and Morganites, she saw no further questions. From them, their minds were already made up, and their eyes merely burned with the conviction of disgust and damnation.

The only exception was the Hive, who looked to her with a crushingly detached interest. She was reminded of a child watching an overturned insect, legs thrashing in the air in futility.

Lal was already up on his feet and refuting the allegations as groundless, but - Grysel could not help noticing - not going so far as to actually risk his name and reputation on it, when the Gaians broke silence for the first time and addressed a direct question through the Speaker.

The Speaker had to cut the Commissioner short, who sat down with considerable agitation.

"The Gaian diplomat Boniface asks the DataTech representative Grysel whether or not the allegations are true."

Grysel knew this moment would come someday. She had known it since the Project was begun, and even though they would lock it away underneath their cities in Sentry-8. She had known the moment would come today, as her leader the DataJack sent her the frenzied transmission mere minutes earlier. She had known that their secret was out, and it was only a matter of time before the calculating holders would open it to the public at the worst possible time.

These thoughts and more crowded her mind, as she rose to her feet in the glare of the world's attention, and pronounced the confession of her faction and leadership: "No comment."

Then all was turmoil as the UN Peacekeepers rose to their feet en masse, with their voices raised in a Babel of noise and fury.

* ~ * ~ *

	05-07-2002 22:45									#45
	Remove this text

Endgame

Deep in the basement of the ancient Iphiclian artillery point, Li Min was reaching for the bulb of cold Gaian tea placed precariously on the edge of the operating table, when something onscreen arrested his attention and his hand.

This was unusual. Li Min had tried to contact his immediate superior, Fusili, but to no avail. Afterwards, he had checked his previous emails and determined the scrambler node that Fusili's safety used for routing. Then, he had needed to hack the node, a task which he did over the course of several hours, and *then* he had needed to calculate the code changes from the server-side randomizer.

And Li Min had no suitably good explanation for doing so, save for the excuse of curiosity and idleness. Well, now it looked like curiosity was going to pay off for once. He had opened a dummy account and tested his codebreaker, and it was working 20% of the times he tried to send a message through Fusili's server. This, when used in conjunction with the disalarmer data loop, meant that he had virtually 100% access to the outer echelons of DataKnave Fusili's protection - the only catch being that it would take 500% of the time to access it.

Fusili was dead, that much Li Min knew. He was trawling the deceased DataKnave's account to see what clues there were to the killing, and whether or not it could be related to the probes who had come for Hu. He had expected to see some final message, some death threat, perhaps, or maybe even a last transmission from the DataKnave himself to provide a clue.

He was not entirely sure what to expect, but one thing was sure. He had not expected to see the node currently in use by the DataKnave, and currently accessing top-echelon files.

Hence Li Min's sudden disinterest in his tea. If there was somebody using Fusili's node, it was either legitimate, in which case it was Fusili himself, or it was illegitimate. Li Min had not made efforts to keep up with the news recently, but he did know that several nodes had broadcast news of Fusili's assassination just outside Governor Halls. He also knew that if Fusili were indeed still alive, there were several top-priority dispatches that Li Min and Huang had sent, and which the DataKnave would not have simply ignored.

In which case, somebody was trespassing on the Internal property of Fusili.

Furthermore, Li Min could deduce from the speed of the transactions and reroutings that the hacker responsible for this was able to work at a rate of efficiency far higher than any normal trespassing individual. Li Min's own stopgap hack had taken the best part of a morning to effect, and that was before he could even look at the DataKnave's profiles, at a speed one-fifth the usual. This hacker was operating at full speed - equal to the same ease with which Fusili himself might access the encrypted files. The only explanation for this could be M/MI.

Li Min knew when he was in up past his level. He also knew that the last time he had tried M/MI it had almost proven fatal, and that was with the added security of Huang as backup. The figures and data streams rolling across his screen with effortless ease bespoke a skill almost beyond comprehension - the best that Li Min could think of was of an elite covey of several M/MI divers working in collusion, acting as mutual backup and coordinating their actions.

In any case, Li Min decided that a confrontation would be ill-advised in the extreme. All he could hope to do was to wait and follow in the monster's wake, and perhaps to catch a glimpse of its final destination.

* ~ * ~ *

"Commissioner, it was unfortunate that you had to find out this way," said the DataJack Roze. "We had planned a more timely report to you - indeed, I had hoped Grysel would be able to discuss this with you in recess. We had no idea that the Hive were able to so thoroughly infiltrate our faction."

"Are the accusations true, then?" asked Lal steadily, having mastered his shock. "Are the DataTech really building a Cyborg Factory?"

Roze's face bore a new expression - contrition. "Commissioner, they are true. We have already finished the main components, and all that remains of our project is to assimilate the whole."

Lal closed his eyes and nodded, breathing deeply. In the cool darkness of his sanctuary, he pondered, as the humbled DataJack offered no protest, no gainsay. Seconds flitted by, and then he opened his eyes again.

"DataJack, what are the potential military applications of this?"

The DataJack's face showed her surprise. "Commissioner, we believe it would be a force for economic and development change, not to mention-"

"No," interrupted the Commissioner solidly. "I am not stupid, and neither are you. Now is not the time for bandying with words. The fact is that you have directly contravened one of the core directives of the UN Charter concerning morally condemned technologies, and because of this, you forfeit all the aid promised you by Aquascante. Your only hope for redemption is for you to tell me straight what this thing can do for a military. In return, I will see what I can do to contain the substantial damage you have done to your reputation and my own."

"Yes, Commissioner," replied the DataJack meekly. "We believe that with the cybernetic upgrades possible through this project, our military can push themselves farther and endure far more than unmodified soldiers can. Agility, strength, and awareness can all be indirectly enhanced to create a military of far greater resilience than usual. And the most valuable possibility of all is the potential for interfacing in absentia - where a military risks only machines and not its staff during warfare. If all vectors of our research are conducted to conclusion, we hope to be able to field a fighting force that is infinitely more expendable and replaceable than conventional staff-operated machines."

Lal pondered this. "DataJack, your actions have already endangered the safety of the factions who would most like to aid you. I shall confer with my allies, the Pirates and the Morganites, but I must inform you that we may be powerless to shield you from the UN Arbitration Court if this cannot be contained. However, if you will consent to cease construction on the Cyborg Factory, it is possible that we could carry a resolution through confirming you as our ally. Will you agree to such a compromise, if available?"

"No," said the DataJack, a streak of defiance in her features. "We have worked on this for nearly twenty years now, before any mention was made of Aquascante or of your Arbitration Court. The Project continues as planned."

Lal gave a well-acted sigh. "Indeed, you leave me with no choice. Very well, we shall speak again. Keep the line open, and I shall get back to you before recess closes."

* ~ * ~ *

Lal's first contact was a bold bait - he sent a message to the Hive suggesting that the UN would oversee the dismantling of Project PowerClip, in return for a withdrawal from DataTech holdings. The importance of this transmission was that he could be seen to be trying all means possible to preserve peace, despite his clear knowledge that the Hive could not be expected to agree to such a proposal. That then left him time to maneuver with his allies and neighbors.

Lal did not even have to ask Deirdre for her opinion - he knew the Gaians' reaction ever since their delegates rose from their seats and left the Assembly Hall, not a few of them nauseous. He also decided that Morgan would be unlikely to approve of the DataTech achievements in M/MI, except in their capacity to further incriminate the breakaway faction. Thus, Lal decided to contact the Pirates and the Spartans, in that order.

Svensgard proved to be somewhat hesitant. Lal's hazarded a try by emphasizing the imperative for a democracy to defend itself from the blandishments of the Hive. This opening gambit did not go far with the Nautilus leader, whose own political systems were a far cry from electoral themselves. Lal had a contingency plan, however, and discovered that the Captain was responsive to the idea of conditional support.

Thus reassured, Lal ventured to approach the Colonel Corazon Santiago. In this particular maneuver he had to exercise extreme care, as he knew the Spartans already viewed UN policy on arms tariffs with particular disdain. Thus, he broached the subject from the outset of the potential uses of the Cyborg Factory against the Hive. He found, somewhat to his pleasure, that Santiago's pragmatism extended to viewing the Hive as the supreme threat to peace on Planet, and was secretly delighted to find Santiago in accord - with certain inevitable, though fully affordable, concessions.

Thus armed, Lal returned to Roze. The whole of his transactions had taken him twelve metric minutes, and he had a proposal.

* ~ * ~ *

"This is the deal," said Lal. "It took me a lot of favors and corporate gymnastics to put together, so you will understand it is emphatically non-negotiable. You either take it or leave it."

"Let's hear it," said the DataJack.

"If accepted, we intend to consent to pledge continued support for the DataTech against the Hive. We will also arrange for the Arbitration Court to overlook your major infraction this time, in light of the Hiverian invasion. If you can complete Project PowerClip, you will agree to turn over its control to Nautilus, Peacekeeper, and Spartan beneficiaries for the duration of hostilities against the Hive, who will administrate it on DataTech grounds. Our military units will then occupy strategic refueling bases on DataTech territory, so that we can strike at Hiverian targets across the Great Northern Ocean.

"After the hostilities cease, a nominal Aquascante garrison will be stationed at Iphiclia and at whatever points of military strategic importance are secured in our action against the Hive. The Cyborg Factory will be returned to your administration, on the condition that it will also continue to service our forces in the area as conditions require. You will also commence legitimate trade with all Aquascante factions, and you must administer your economy with such safeguards as will eliminate piracy and illicit activities."

Roze's cheek twitched as she heard this. "This is a tall order, Commissioner."

"But necessary," he replied. "It will be necessary for you to swear to observe these points in Council. Without them, we cannot count on the support of a majority to carry the motion through. It will also be necessary for you to make your peace with Morgan."

"He is the one who refuses to acknowledge us, dear Commissioner."

"And you are the ones who worsen relations through your probe activities. When the CEO feels he has nothing further to fear from you, then he will come to respect your virtues as a faction, as I myself already do. But this is all contingent on your decision, DataJack. I have gathered together all the strings I have to hand. Now it is up to you to decide whether or not it's worth my while pulling them."

"I'll need to confer with my DataKnaves," she said.

"Confer all you want. If you do not give me your decision within thirty four metric minutes, Council goes on without you, and you will be condemned. And you will be summarily ejected from the Aquascante Treaty Organization even before we have extended our formal invitation. Think on it, DataJack."

Alone at last, Lal massaged his brows with his fingertips. Who would have credited the lumbering Hiverians with such a masterful tactic? At one stroke, they had forced attention away from their unpopular campaign against the DataTech, and onto an issue of such seriousness that even the Gaians seemed ready to support them against the DataTech. Berzhinev's earlier demonstration that the DataTech had stolen technology from the UNP was now forgotten in the rush, but that hardly mattered. Nobody could now accuse the Hive of this crime, now that serious questions had been asked of the innocence of the DataTech.

Lal remembered the optimism with which he had looked forward to this meeting. Now, he dared not rest even in recess, not with the Hiverians running amok and every moment bringing further threats of horrors and ignominy upon the Council.

Indeed, it was a very interesting and challenging Council meeting. Even in the midst of his beleaguered situation, Lal possessed enough professionalism and skill to be thankful enough for that.

* ~ * ~ *

Roze sat alone, in her sanctum at the edges of Sentry-8, and mused. She had been lying when she mentioned her DataKnaves to Lal - she had nobody to confer with, and absolute power of decision lay with her alone. In many ways, the decision had already been made for her, and by none other than the Hiverian Second, Zhu He Lai.

She reached across to the computer screen and activated it, bringing back the transmission that DataKnave Morganghast had sent her just forty minutes before. She had watched it twice during that time, and then sent her priority warning message to Grysel in Council, but it was already too late by that time.

It was a picture relayed from a bug deep inside the Hive - so deep, in fact, that no DataTech hands had placed it. Roze remembered the daring mission with which she had entrusted the double agent, so many years ago - to plant and activate the bug at the Chairman's quarters. And the agent, Zhou, had succeeded. He had hidden the bug inside a Morganite glowlamp, just outside the Chairman's chambers, and returned with mission accomplished. There the bug had lain, transmitting faithfully, even through the Berzhinev Bureau reshuffle, and the rise of the deadly Algorithm. As the years passed, the Chairman moved his chambers to a different base, and the bug ceased to broadcast anything of major interest.

Until now.

Roze watched the sequence, as she had done for the previous four times. The figure appears in the faraway portal, approaching with a rack of some sort folded beneath an arm. The lights are dimmed, and the figure steps closer, revealing leathery skin, a weathered face, and the bald head of the Hiverian Second, Zhu.

He looks directly and with full intention, straight into the camera for a chilling second, then smiles. He places the rack on the floor, and begins unfolding the holopode.

The holopode activates, and images from Hiverian Intelligence sources fill the light. Roze knows what the images are.

The first scene is on board a train, showing the desperate fight between DataTech assassins and Agent Hu. The sequence ends with the decapitation of the Hiverian Agent.

The second scene concerns taped footage of a cockpit view, as the craft slews around to try to take down a tiny ocean-going vessel at the periphery of the New Sargasso. For some twenty seconds, it fires and circles in vain, then finally a hit is scored and a detonation fills the air.

The third scene is simple - a close-up of some fragments of hull, hung over a railing. The Nautilus emblem is clear.

Then an excerpt from the Battle of Deinara Sound. Ships on fire as the Hiverian jets bomb them into the ocean.

Another change - a fortress, and two men forcing their way in through the front gates. The view follows them through convoluted passageways, finally showing their arrival at a vault of some sort. The floor is littered with equipment. They open a cryosafe, and reveal the disembodied head of the Agent Hu.

The screen changes to a collage, the nightmarish collection of images shown at Council earlier, of M/MI tests and the rejected experiments. All unbelievable, all grotesque, all inhuman... and all incontrovertibly true.

The DataJack could understand that these screens were shown for their impact on the Council, to prove the weakness of the DataTech position, and the extent of DataTech transgressions against the UN Bill of Rights. But the final set of images, Roze had no doubt, were for her eyes only.

The Crystal caves of Bayband. The Cliffview airbase, with its massive vertical magnetic launchpads. The Governor Halls palaces.

These views would be meaningless to others, but Roze knew the Hive's meaning. The sign they were sending was clear and accurate - Sentry-8's links to the outside world, and the points at which it could be assaulted, the centers of the DataTech industrial core, even the whereabouts of the DataTech herself, were now secrets fully disclosed to the Intelligence Bureau Head, Arkady Berzhinev.

The presentation concluded, and the Second folded up the holopode and turned to face the camera once more. He gave a curt nod, a mock salute with his open hand, and then reached for the bulb housing the bugging device.

For the first and final time in its seventy year lifespan, the DataTech bug in the Hiverian headquarters flickered into static. The message terminated at this juncture, the last ever that particular Zhou probe would ever send.

* ~ * ~ *

"Concerning the DataTech construction of a Cyborg Factory, will the members of Council please cast their votes?" announced the Speaker. "All those favoring leniency under the proposed UNP scheme, please vote now."

The Nautilus Pirates, the Spartan Federation, and the DataTech all submitted their votes.

"And all those opposing leniency?"

The Hive, University, and Morganites made known their opposition.

"And those abstaining?"

That left only the Gaians. The Speaker continued. "Including the UNP vote, the measure passes with a 4-3 majority. Terms are as follows:

"The UN restrictions on the DataTech Cyborg Factory will be lifted to allow for the need of the DataTech to defend their lands against the Hiverian incursions. Aquascante advisors will be posted to supervise the Project at all times to ensure that it does not transgress the moral limits stressed in node Null-529j of the Humane Research Act. The Project will otherwise be allowed to run at full production as long as the Hiverian offensive continues against the DataTech lands.

"The DataTech are still considered Aquascante Treaty members. The ruling of this council finds them not guilty of atrocities, and therefore commerce and trade will not be reviewed or embargoed."

Lal stood up. "I offer the Hive and University one last chance to preserve morality as well as peace in these trouble times. Withdraw from Iphiclia, and we shall dismantle the PowerClip project. Persevere in your actions, and PowerClip must continue to play its role in defending order and world peace. The choice is yours."

There was muttered conferring at the Hiverian delegation, and finally their speaker stood and responded.

"The actions of the Hive against international terrorist organizations, and the governments that shield them, are already playing a major role in defending order and world peace. We shall not stop until our sphere is truly safe once more."

Lal nodded, his expression suitably grave.

"Very well," he responded solemnly. "Then I must call upon the University to demonstrate whether they will choose to intervene on the behalf of peace, before we move to condone a technological evil against an ideological one. Provost, will you forego your alliance born of necessity, and choose the moral path?"

The Provost's holographic face suddenly seemed to realize it had been asked a question. His eyes cut back towards the Assembly Hall in annoyance, oblivious to the combined attention of the entire Council.

"Not today, I'm afraid. I don't know what sort of slippery reversal you're trying to pull with your born-of-convenience stop'n'swap Charter, my dear Commissioner. But regardless, I fear you'll just have to do it without the rubber stamp cosmetics of my approval."

The Provost turned away contemptuously, muttering in a clearly audible undertone: "It's not as though such a technicality ever stopped him before."

Thus concluded the first UNP victory in the 47th Council Meeting.

	18-07-2002 15:09									#46
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Endgame

The bulb of Gaian tea sported oily patches of cooled scum; the handle was covered in a light layer of dust. Half a meter away, Li Min watched in motionless awe as the mysterious hacker assailed the DataJack's outer nodes. The hacker had dodged and warped through DataTech high level transmissions, crossing and rerouting through feeds that Li Min himself could never have hoped to access. Now, the hacker had broken through the standard governmental codes and had decided to force its way through to the nodes recently vacated by the DataJack.

Li Min wondered if it knew that the DataJack herself was no longer there. He was almost sure the hacker was mistaken, otherwise why waste so much time and effort cracking a derelict profile? The hacker could not hurt the DataJack herself, not without hacking through the formidable defenses of Sentry-8. Yet that was clearly what the hacker was doing, and to judge from the speed at which it tackled the task, Li Min decided it was probably a good idea to leave it to its misguided mission.

He checked his timepiece as the hacker's password spoof deciphered yet another code element. A mere seven minutes, he noted with amazement. Good God.

* ~ * ~ *

"What do you think you are doing, Commissioner? How can you justify condoning and authorizing something as vile as the Cyborg Factory?"

Lal spread his hands in an apologetic gesture and looked evenly upwards at the colossal face of Deirdre Skye. Her usual diffidence was gone now - instead, her brilliant eyes shone out from beneath her clouded brow, and her lips were set in a resolute line. He had prepared for this confrontation, his words were well-planned, but even so, Pravin Lal knew the dangers of unpredictability when dealing with an erratic representative.

"Only with the deepest of regrets, milady," he responded coolly. "It is my greatest wish that this war can be ended without sacrificing the humanity of our soldiers merely for the name of defence. But there is still hope that we can stop both PowerClip and the Hive, Lady Skye. I intend to announce a new measure in Council and see the reaction of our fellows."

The Gaian's face softened somewhat in her defiance, but not in her resolution nor her suspicions. "What?" she asked simply.

Lal brought the appropriate paper onscreen. "Remember our Ten Points? Points Six and Seven have yet to be discussed. If we can bring a majority to agree that the Chairman should be demoted from rank, or even tried for his crimes, then by UN regulations his votes in Council are invalid. At a vote recount on the previous proposals, this may overturn the rulings against the Cyborg Factory as well as recounting a condemnation against the Harmonian campaign."

"I don't want the Hive punished for Harmonia," stated Deirdre.

"We can consider the two issues separately," reassured the Commissioner with smooth ease. "The important thing is that we set the mechanics in motion to bring Yang to trial. He stands accused of enough crimes against the UN Charter to require his demotion or his replacement before the Hiverian vote will count in Council."

"You don't understand," persisted Deirdre. "I don't care about prosecuting the Chairman, Lal. And I don't care about what they're doing to the Progenitors. What concerns me is that the Peacekeepers will make use of the same Cyborg Factory that you have repeatedly condemned. How does expelling Yang from the Council stop you from installing M/MI on Aquascante soldiers?"

"The answer is delightfully simple," responded Lal, buying time for him to formulate it. "With the Council carrying a majority vote against the Hive, the UNP will not be acting alone. Thus, we need not implement M/MI or the Cyborg Factory when the sheer mass of numbers will act to the same effect. However, in order to secure a victory against the Hive and save the DataTech faction, we will require each and every Council faction to do their part against the aggressor. We can count on the University to support their allies, and we have difficulties separating Morgan's feud from the question. Can we count on the Gaians?"

Deirdre was unimpressed. "So you would have me join in the war in order to stop a faction with whom I have only just signed Truce?"

Lal shrugged. "It may not come to that, milady. The Chairman and his inner circle of leaders are canny and wise - perhaps the mere knowledge that the world is united against them will cause a peaceful withdrawal. In this case, your contribution would be the noblest of all - a bloodless stance for a bloodless peace." Lal raised an eyebrow. "And, the Cyborg Factory would be dismantled."

Deirdre considered this awhile. "Very well, Commissioner," she said. "You will present your case in Council, and the Gaians shall consider it closely. If circumstances warrant it, we shall judge fairly against the Hive. But we will judge purely on merit, not on coercion. This does not in any way justify your appropriation of Project PowerClip. Deirdre out."

* ~ * ~ *

"What do you propose?" asked Sarita, her expression carefully neutral.

Lal stroked his chin. "In an ideal world, we could just draw the line at their police state conditions and their history of human rights violations. However, we cannot successfully delineate them without also alienating the Nautilus faction. And human rights was a valid card to play until the Project PowerClip came into the equation."

"What, then?" persisted Sarita.

Lal was silent, musing awhile before he spoke. "One weapon remains for us against Yang, which cannot claim any collateral targets." He turned and looked towards Sarita, his eyes distant.

"Bring me the Unity datalog of Captain Garland."

* ~ * ~ *

Recess lasted two hours, after which Council resumed. This time, Lal was somewhat more forceful. "It is with great reluctance that the UNP commission moves to authorize the use of PowerClip. We do not take this decision lightly, as the seriousness of the moral transgressions are very clear to us. Our previous decision was taken on the choices available to us at the time - either to condone willful aggression, or to make us of forbidden sciences."

Lal turned from his notes and fixed the assembled leaders with a stern eye.

"Now we, the UNP, have a final recourse open to us. It has come to my attention that this use of military M/MI is of great concern to many leaders, apart from myself. It is in answer to this concern that I propose this third course of action."

The Commissioner's voice rose slightly in imperious declamation as he proceeded. "The United Nations Assembly intends to try, convict, and sentence the Executive Officer Dr. Sheng Ji Yang under the auspices of the UN Criminal Court. We of the UN believe that the administration of oppression, and the organs of dictatorship emplaced by this one individual presents a direct threat to the well being of the UN Charter, and all those who adhere to its laws. Until the engineer of atrocities onboard the Unity and the killer of Captain Garland has been brought to justice, our chief suspect remains Chairman Sheng-Ji Yang. And for as long as the Chairman himself stands accused of the derailing of Project Unity, he is unfit to represent his faction in Council. Until the Chairman is removed from his office or his name cleared, this Council votes to disregard the Hiverian vote."

There were gasps and exclamations all round at this. Morgan nodded, a slow, knowing half-smile passing across his features as the salute from a scoundrel to the tactics of another. The University delegation were already on their feet and protesting against this latest of provisional amendments to procedure. The DataTech, Pirates, and Spartans alike chorused their ayes with varying degrees of vituperation. The Hive, however, were characteristically silent.

"Who will support a trial against the Hiverian leader, Chairman Sheng-Ji Yang?" Lal asked, the sweat shining on his temples. Now, they were at the crux of the matter. He had met with leaders and cajoled their opposition parties into applying pressure on them for this vote. He had pulled muscle, rank, and puppet strings as rarely before to ensure the cementing of one final goal: the trial of Sheng-Ji Yang. So many things could go wrong - if Ledat in the Morganites Shareholder Committee had botched or mistimed his report - if Pazu in the Gaian Senate had failed to swing the vote - if Colonel Santiago decided the risk to herself was too great...

A shout from the Morganite contingent broke through the milling hubbub. The Speaker asked him to repeat the question, then announced it on the intercom.

"Morganite Reilly wishes to know what grounds of suspicion there are for implicating the Chairman in this matter."

Lal nodded, and with a few deft movements at his holopode, brought up the final transmission from Captain Garland's log. The words appeared clear and high for all to see. All present craned forwards in their seats or peered intently at their own telecubes in order to better see the final transmission, penned by dying fingers onboard the Unity, nearly two full centuries before.

Priority Transmission ALV-3/22I9D34c3 Sender Cpt J Garland Receiver Dr P Lal. Message: Pravin. Yang has murdered crew. He is to be divested of rank and arrested immediately. Use caution.

There was a murmur of discussion at this, a few raised voices, but by and large the Assembly was subdued by this finding. Lal sat back, pleased. It was indeed a good sign - that despite the intervening years and decades of Planetary rule, the words of their illustrious Captain John Garland could nonetheless instill such wonder and awe.

"Are there any further questions?" asked the Speaker, glancing around nervously.

The head of the Hiverian delegation rose, in answer to a hail on his private commlink to the Chairman. Lal noticed the motion, as well as the hand pressed to the earpiece to catch the Hiverian leader's words. In some detached corner of his mind, he idly wondered what the Chairman's reaction could be to this piece of news.

The Hiverian approached the microphone and asked a question in a language of toned monosyllables that nobody understood.

The Speaker sighed with tired patience and spoke. "Surely the Hiverian knows that it is our regulations to speak English at Council meetings. What is Chairman Yang's response?"

Abruptly, the holopode flickered to life again, and the Chairman's face gazed down upon the collected diplomats and holocams once more.

"My diplomat wishes to relay my consent to the UN Tribunal, and my eagerness to clear my name in Council. We may begin immediately if it so pleases the good Commissioner. That is all."

Lal nodded, strangely disappointed despite himself.

"It does," he said, his voice a mixture of professionalism and superciliousness. "We shall adjourn for two metric hours whilst the Tribunal assembles." As the diplomats began stowing and consulting, he added with a slight degree of relish, "May I suggest, Chairman Yang, that you use this time to prepare your legal defence."

The Chairman's expression hardly changed. "Your kind advice has been noted. Sheng out."

* ~ * ~ *

Murath shifted his weight uneasily as he watched the cliff face. Despite the darkness, he still felt vulnerable and exposed on the stacks and stumps of the northern Cliffview coast. His aquabreather and clothes were tight and clinging, to render him less detectable audially as well as visually, but for the moment he was most thankful for their protection from the gusty winds and freezing spray.

He looked over to Reinhardt, who was similarly sprawled on the naked rock, peering through an IR telescope.

"What do you see?" he asked through the intracom.

Reinhardt sighed and there was a certain level of vague admiration in his answer. "Millions of years of geological attrition, evident to all those who choose to see. The Cliffview was originally formed from a magmite layer that eventually met with a glacier. Note the claw-shape of the cliffs - they don't meet the sea falt-on, they have the steep gulleys and blade shapes left behind when the ice slowly receded."

Murath harumphed at his friend's perverse distraction, and huddled his arms closer to his chest. "This is the last time I accompany you on a recon operation, you loon. I thought you said we had a mission to complete."

Reinhardt wasn't listening. "And the tides brought back occasional freezing and refreezings, leaving behind the gouged patterns we see now. Some of these gulleys and crannies are ages old, and on a scale that no human construction equipment could hope to craft. The largest of the blade valleys is a mere 50m wide, but the cavity regresses nearly a whole kilometer into the solid bedrock."

Reinhardt turned the scope lazily to the left. He continued his laconic observations.

"Seventy years ago, the first men walked on these virgin cliffs - the DataTech faction. And do they ponder on this history here? Do they wonder at the geological marvels of the Cliffview caves? No. They install a sodding airbase."

Murath perked up and deployed his own scope. "Where? Where's the airbase?"

"Built into the natural rock-blade formations. Bearing 135.20, elevation 34.6/800m. See the vertical slits? That's the rock. The bay doors are made from a material that blends in well with the surrounding color. No use zooming in, because the bay doors are shut. But I'm positive that's where Cuckoo Wing interceptors launched their attacks from. They gather solar power to activate immense magnetic fields, which then catapult their fighters out into the atmosphere. Or so Joe's Algorithm tells us."

Murath looked awhile, then snapped his scope shut and huffed. "How does that help us? We're after PowerClip, not the air force."

Reinhardt nodded slowly, peering with aloof detachment. When he spoke, it was almost like a crooning whisper. "Joe traced a DataTech Internal transmission concerning the arrival of an Aquascante VIP to this island. This was about a week ago. The VIP sent one transmission back to his superiors affirming that he had arrived safely. Joe wasn't sure whether he was UNP or Pirate - he's pretty definite that it wasn't the Morganites."

"Did Joe manage to get a name for us?"

Reinhardt shook his head. "Something Germanic - Rommel or Pommel... something." A pause, as he scrolled upwards. "In any case, it doesn't matter. The VIP's not as important as the Internal transmission. The VIP was confirmed as landing here, at Cliffview. He was conveyed to a secret location to meet with the DataTech leadership, and the vital thing about this is that he passed some of the way through Sentry-8."

"Really?"

"They took precautions against him being able to trace his path. They were very thorough. But they couldn't hide one special piece of information - Cliffview airbase is somehow directly linked to Sentry-8."

Murath was silent for a bit, then opened his scope again. "So, if we can get through Cliffview, we can get to PowerClip?"

Reinhardt shrugged. "Maybe. At the very least, if we're going to escape from this benighted island, Cliffview is probably our best bet."

"Don't forget," cautioned Murath, "that if we don't fulfil our mission here, High Command will not be happy to see us. It might not be worth our while going back."

"Maybe," agreed Reinhardt dreamily. "Now, if you'll follow me, let us look far to the west, bearing 244.61. There, in the extreme distance, we see the crystal caves of BayBand. These were created in a process quite different from Cliffview, but I believe you will find their result every bit as rewarding as the blade-gulleys we see here."

* ~ * ~ *

The Provost set down a piece and recorded the move.

"There's talk of trouble in Iphiclia," he said. "And your Intelligence Bureau Chief sounds very upset about something. Have you, by any chance, been trying to derail PowerClip without the good Commissioner's express permission?"

The Provost's opponent, playing from an undisclosed location many thousands of kilometers distant, responded with a move and a message. Exhaustively. Zakharov smiled.

"I can see how that must have irritated him. But he offered to derail it himself. Why not accept his offer? It would save you time and energy." Zakharov placed another piece.

His word is a well-worn coin, came the reply. One does not entrust an enemy with the burial of a sharp sword.

"I suppose not. But do you think he would really break Charter, and use this technology against us?" Zakharov placed another piece, carefully this time. His previous strategy relied on the extra 3rd dimension to mask his actual area of control.

Certainly. Materials, not morals, Provost.

"What of the other factions? How about the Morganites, or the Gaians? Do they have the technology necessary to build it?"

Berzhinev affirms.

"Then why do they not build it themselves?" Zakharov placed another chip.

They hide from the reality of materials behind the veil of morals. Yet they admire in others what audacity they do not possess. Thus they needlessly - and pointlessly - cripple themselves.

Zakharov paused, pondering the implications behind this unusual message. His friend did not usually send missives of this length. Could it be that the Aquascante factions genuinely denied themselves the benefits of technology, merely because it reminded them uncomfortably of their own mortality?

"Convenient, I'll admit. But rather... unreliable. I prefer to rely on a technological gap and extensive military readiness over mere morality any day."

The Provost placed down his piece and savored the board. There - perfect - the black pieces near the upper left-front corner were finally contained, and no amount of squirming or dodging could free them again. Although they were not dead by a long shot, the Provost would not need to fear further expansion on that front for the duration of this game.

True. But one must never throw away a potential weapon, came the reply. A few moments later, a black piece appeared in the remote upper rightback quadrant.

Zakharov smiled. The game would progress anew.

* ~ * ~ *

	18-07-2002 20:29									#47
	Increase the size of your Attachments

Endgame

The Speaker's voice was a careful monotone. "Sheng Ji Yang, you stand accused of violating the Unity's core directives on multiple occasions. You stand charged with the murder of civilian crewmen onboard the Unity, including Captain John Garland. You stand charged with gross abuse of office in the declaration of martial law onboard the Unity, resulting in the deaths of several hundred crewmen, many of whom were in cryostasis. You stand charged with the perversion of the UN Charter, and we call upon you now to explain your trespasses in our Court of Criminal Tribunals."

The Chairman bowed slightly. "Certainly. Which question would you have me answer first?"

Behind the UNP lectern, Lal silently sent his selection to the Speaker, who viewed it quickly and then continued.

"Executive Officer Sheng-Ji Yang, you are called upon to defend yourself against the allegations of the murder of Captain Garland."

The central holopode flickered into life, and then began playing a flat, two-dimensional image. The picture quality was grainy and scratched, and the Assembly Hall lights dimmed at Sarita's touch to better emphasize the weak projected picture. There was no sound. The technical problems ascertained, the video feed began.

It showed the cramped confines of a tunnel of sorts, with a ladder and walkways leading off at regular intervals. A legend at the lower right hand corner of the picture showed the words NEXUS UMBILICAL C54. Far off in the distance, large bays showed the blank vaccuum of space, the stars now too dim to show through the internal light of the craft.

"This tape you are now watching," announced the Commissioner, "is the final recording of Captain Garland available anywhere to humanity. It is captured in the crawlways of the central umbilical of the Unity. The man you are about to witness entering the picture at the far left is Captain John Garland."

Sure enough, a dark figure, massive despite its crouched attitude, appeared. The correct perspective quickly became apparent as the figure climbed upwards, towards the camera - the camera was facing downwards, along the umbilical. Here, at the dead gravity center of the Unity's centrifuge, Garland still had to grasp the ladder in order to control his movement.

The Chairman's face remained impassive. Lal had watched this tape many times before, and he was almost certain that the Gaians had watched it too, as their scientists had been responsible for its recovery from the Unity hull. For the rest, however, Lal doubted they were familiar with the events in the final few moments of Garland's life. The Spartans, DataTech, and even Morganites were watching with avid interest.

Garland climbed the last few steps and dismounted onto a crawlway. There, he performed a few operations at a machine - a computer terminal, as it turned out, but so ancient that many diplomats did not recognize it for what it was. Then, Garland turned his head suddenly, as if hailed by something offscreen.

Lal's voice broke in at this point. "The newcomer is one Sarah Jaydo, Psyche Worker and originally under the direction of Chaplain Godwinson."

A slender figure appeared on the horizontal walkway, her hand raised and a weapon held steady on the Captain. The two exchanged a few words, and the Captain put his hands up. Turning around, he marched over to a hatchway and knelt. A few moments later, the hatchway irised open, and the Captain turned his face back to his captor.

The woman had light colored hair, but her face was not visible as yet. The Captain's lips moved calmly, an attitude of resignation in his formidable frame. Then, at a gruff order from the woman - Jaydo - he bent his head and faced the open hatch.

With a suddenness that was surprising, the large man had kicked himself away from the walkway and into the tiny hatch. Jaydo fired off a shot that burst in sparks against the hatch door, and then ran to the doorway and fired another shot before the hatch closed. Turning her face in exasperation, she happened to look directly at the camera for a split second - here the film paused and a red line circled her face as Lal announced the proof of her identity.

Then the film proceeded. The woman knelt down and opened the hatch again. As the audience watched with bated breath, a grey staff shot from the hatchway and struck her heavily on the shoulder, knocking her off balance. She fired once more, then with a convulsive jerk, her entire body was lifted off its feet by a streak of grey that shot from the hatchway, skewering her through the neck and pinning her body to the far wall, her feet hanging inches off the floor. As the quivering metal shuddered to a halt, the film paused and Lal explained.

"The camera at the end of the hatchway does not tell us with any true clarity what occurred during this struggle, but we do know with certainty the circumstances of Captain Garland's death."

Another film played, showing a dimly lit tunnel. At the far end, a hatchway opened, showing the silhouette of a man crouching. The man jumped inwards, and the screen was filled with confusion and scuffling for a few brief seconds. Then, after the commotion died down, the outline of a slowly crawling person became clear. As the outline came closer, the light of the camera showed the agonized face of Captain Garland, and his non-injured hand clutching a grenade. The film ended suddenly in a burst of static.

Finally, over the speakers came a scratchy, static-filled audio transmission, from a voice that Planet had not heard for centuries. The Captain's final words, unsteady and with the telling signs of trauma. "I'm here, in the center of the ship. I've been shot."

"Captain Garland died shortly after the escape pods detached from the Unity," said Lal. "This much we know from his biorhythms. We also know that Sarah Jaydo forsook her post as Psyche Worker and sought to enlist with the Executive Officer's goons when Sheng Ji Yang declared martial law onboard the Unity, hours before the death of the Captain. We have positive retinal identification that the killer of Captain Garland is none other than this Sarah Jaydo. From this, the UNP forwards that the worker was operating on direct orders from Sheng Ji Yang to eliminate Garland, the better to prevent any organized resistance to his complete takeover of the Unity's cryobays. Sheng Ji Yang stands accused of engineering the murder of Captain Garland, and deliberately working to sabotage the Unity mission."

Lal's voice faded into the still silence, as hundreds of watchers tried to grasp the enormity of what had passed. Throughout their hurried conferences and whispered asides, echoed the dead Captain's final words: "...I've been shot."

The Chairman spoke.

"I shall first address the issue of Sarah Jaydo. The Psyche Worker was not personally known to me, but she was known to one of my lieutenants, Sgt Turner. Turner mentioned her name to me in a communique during which he informed me that Jaydo had requested leave to help with the enforcement and disarmament exercises onboard the Unity. Turner had checked her records, and found her to have a history of recent emotional instability, perhaps from the rigors of her job as Psyche Worker."

The relevant files came up onscreen as the Chairman continued.

"Acting on my instructions, Turner refused Jaydo permission to leave her post and declined her request to serve with the security forces. At no point during her service onboard the Unity did Sarah Jaydo operate with my authorization. An individual so unable to control her own emotions is unfit to control others."

Lal shook his head. "Why don't we hear this from Turner himself? What proof can you offer us, Yang?" he demanded.

The Chairman changed his display to include a two-dimensional film of the cryobays, with armed security forces clashing with the saboteurs and resistance forces.

"You see before you the battle onboard the Unity that killed Turner. This battle occurred during the pacification of Cryobay Five." At this, a slight shudder ran through Lal's frame, but as all eyes were on the Chairman, few noticed. "In lieu of Turner's personal testimony, I submit the coded transmissions that passed between us concerning the matter of Sarah Jaydo." The Chairman gestured towards the files. "You will see that they correspond in all respects to Unity protocols and codings."

"These files and their codings can be forged," declared Lal quickly.

"As can flat two-dimensional images," returned the Chairman.

"We have only your word that this is Turner's testimony," continued the Commissioner.

"...and yours as to Jaydo's retinal tests," concluded the Chairman. "Admirably summarized, Commissioner. So a certain degree of trust is required if you wish to appropriate blame in a rational and intelligent fashion. We all live with our inevitable reputations, Pravin, but to hold me responsible for every suspected assassination, every whispered dark plot, every evil voodoo spell performed on Planet - that would be just as inaccurate as attributing every mindworm in the fungus to a secret Gaian attack force."

This brought a slight leavening of mood in the tense Assembly Hall - indeed, Gaian representative McClelland even smiled slightly at this.

The Speaker banged his gavel amidst the swelling murmurs, and looked back towards the Chairman. "Have you anything more to add to the proceedings?" he asked.

The Chairman shook his head. "I have already contributed all the information to which I have access."

"Commissioner?" asked the Speaker.

Lal thought for a split second, then shook his head.

The Speaker struck his gavel again. "Then Assembly shall vote on this matter, and the results will be known following a ten-minute recess."

* ~ * ~ *

The Chairman flicked off the UN Assembly holopode and stopped his game of 3D wei qi. He cleared his monitors of all displays except those pertaining to the Zhou Huan Wei mission. He thought of the concerns that urged this coming audience, and he thought once more of the reasonings that stood to support and carry his proposed solution through the myriad of possible protests.

This done, he hailed the Provost Zakharov's private communications frequency, and found himself face to face with the aged Academician.

"Chairman, I must offer my condolences on the farce in the Assembly. When I saw the immaterial evidence with which the Commissioner attempted to convict you, I truly knew the meaning of the term 'rulership by the crowds'. Let us hope the juries have somewhat more discrimination in their judgement."

The Chairman nodded. "I do not believe the Commissioner truly intended to convict me. My major concern in this exercise was to quell suspicions. There is no proof that I may lay my hands on which will show me to be introvertibly innocent. However, by simply showing the prosecution for the guesswork that it was, I may yet contain the reputational damage that Lal is trying to inflict."

The Provost set down his utility gizmo and gave the Chairman his full attention. "To what do I owe this meeting? Have your men managed to retrieve your Agent Hu yet?"

"No, sadly not. Our men have secured his head, but delivery must wait until Project PowerClip is destroyed. Provost, I was recently contacted by a dormant probe from the Ballantyne era."

The Provost wrinkled his forehead. "Ballantyne... now, he would be..."

"Tobias Ballantyne."

The Provost relaxed and nodded. "Ah, yes. Bureau Chief Tobias Ballantyne, yes. I remember. Clever boy. Good with networks. I wonder what happened to him in the end. Something with Kadia Berzhinev, wasn't it?"

"Yes. The probe's name is Zhou Huan Wei, and he was until recently believed dead by our Intelligence Bureau. However, we have just received a transmission from him telling us that our Hiverian probes have been neutralized by the DataTech Interior."

The Provost's face turned glum. "Is this somebody you can trust after all this time?" he asked.

Sheng Ji Yang shrugged. "We can trust this much - he used to be one of ours, and he used to be our best man. Were he disposed to do so, he would be the ideal counter-spy for the DataTech to use. He was the one who planted the spy unit in my lightbulb."

The Provost's eyes widened and he smiled. "Ah! Yes! The bug-in-the-bulb! I remember you telling me. But what are his allegiances? Surely he wouldn't tell you this unless he wants something?"

"True enough. He has given reliable accounts of the demises of each individual probe team, save for one. Each account verifies with Berzhinev, so we feel he is reliable about our probes. What we do not know about is his latter claim."

"Which is?" asked the Provost.

"He has contacted the Zeta-5 Algorithm and is working alongside it."

"What?" said the Provost sharply, all attention now.

"Agent Zhou claims that the Zeta-5 Algorithm is alive and well in the netnodes of Iphiclia, and has been active in the past. The terrorist attacks of Alpha-One in the capital was its doing, as was the attack on Agent Hu."

"Wait, wait," said the Provost quickly. "Does this mean that it's an enemy, or an ally?"

"The former would suggest a friend. The latter, a foe. However, we have analyzed its workings and we cannot deny it works very logically and deeply. It knew that the Hive places great store with Hu's knowledge, so it leaked information to DataTech spies on your territories as to Hu's whereabouts. When the DataTech captured Hu, Zeta-5 saw to it that his head made it safely to Iphiclia, thus forcing us to allocate probes to a rescue job. It was during this point that the Algorithm contacted our probes, and made itself known. Now, it has a flat offer to us, and I am advised to respond within the hour if possible."

The Provost's hands were shaking, although whether with rage or fear or agitation the Chairman could not tell. Perhaps the former, given the University's well-known aversion to the Algorithm. When the Provost spoke, his voice was like a knifeblade.

"Let's hear it."

The Chairman brought up the details of Sentry-8 and the possible locations of Project PowerClip. "Zeta-5 claims that two of our remaining probe spies are still alive and active. Zeta-5 has informed us that the DataTech have already completed the PowerClip project, and all that remains is to assemble the components. The majority of PowerClip's components will be assembled at two points at midnight tonight, during which time the Zeta-5 Algorithm will undertake an operation to destroy or disable all the components it can. It has calculated at least 43% efficiency in the destruction of vital components. In any case, the attempt will deal a severe setback to the DataTech project. To be successful, the attempt will require the aid of our two surviving probe members, as well as the turncoat Zhou Huan Wei. However, the Algorithm has made demands which must be met before it will act."

The Provost was beyond words. He merely gestured with his hand, a trembling fetching motion, as his lips compressed into a thin line of hatred.

"The first demand is that we will consent to set aside one base for the new faction to occupy, and that this base must be outside of all existing areas of control, and furthermore must be furnished with no fewer than 10000 colonists with M/MI for the Algorithm to possess. The Algorithm has suggested that this base be placed on Harmonia for convenience's sake, although this is not a stipulation - a sea base would be satisfactory."

"And you would consent to this!" exclaimed the Provost.

"Certainly," responded the Chairman. "Ten thousand colonists are a small price to pay for the destruction of PowerClip. I can easily spare that number of malcontents and drones for the Algorithm. If it can make good, useful citizens of them, then I do not see any reason to oppose the plan." When the Provost did not comment, the Chairman continued.

"The second demand is that we will consent to honor and respect the Zeta-5 Algorithm's right to exist, both as an individual data structure, and as a legitimate faction for the government and protection of individuals. Furthermore, we are to extend to it and its people all the rights and privileges that would extend to any recognized faction."

The Provost laughed bitterly at this, though it came out more as a hoarse cough. "It's a data shell!" he said. "It doesn't think! It merely thinks it thinks. And it clearly thinks it is entitled to having its delusions of grandeur fulfilled!"

"The third demand is that you must present a resolution in Council that has been prepared by the Algorithm. Once presented, you and I must support this resolution. The proposal is for global recognition of the Consciousness as a legitimate faction. In return for this," continued the Chairman, "Zeta-5 secretly consents to sign an unconditional military Pact of Brotherhood with both the Hive and the University factions."

"Why must I do this?" asked the Provost, his eyes flaring in wrath. "The Algorithm will receive no such satisfaction from me!"

"Because the UNP will try to twist everything I say and the measure might not pass," responded the Chairman. "They still think of me as a brutal Communist thug. You, on the other hand, they have some measure of respect for. Especially if you can show your willingness to bury the hatchet with a hated foe. It shouldn't be too hard - they seem fairly impressionable."

"But you trust it?" asked the Provost.

"As an unconditional ally to use in Council, yes. I also trust in our own overwhelming military force compared to whatever morsels it can gather. I am confident that the Algorithm appreciates this. In any case, if it betrays us, that works directly in our favor. The more serious the betrayal, the less we will have to lose by swiftly crushing it, just as we did the Believers, Usurpers, and Drones."

Zakharov said nothing.

"The Algorithm craves survival above all else. It needs a protector, and I am willing to play this role. The creature it fears above all else on Planet is none other than you, Provost Zakharov. It has approached me because it feels I am the one best equipped to broker a peace between the two of you. I cannot and will not force you to do anything against your will, elder. Thus I have approached you with the full facts and details. Rest assured that I respect that the Algorithm was always your creation; I will take no action whatsoever in this matter without your approval."

The Provost fidgeted, brushing the tips of his fingers against his weathered lips. It was clear that Sheng's words mollified him somewhat.

"Chairman, at all other times I would unconditionally refuse. But we all know what we stand to lose if PowerClip is completed. Sooner or later, another faction will buy, steal, or stumble across the secrets of Fusion Power, and then our technological lead will quickly vanish. And with all the Aquascante factions baying for your blood, I don't fancy the prospect of letting them finish PowerClip.

"If the Algorithm is as trustworthy as you say, if it will do what it promises, then I will support you in this resolution. But do not ask me to protect it, or to view it as a Pact Brother, or to call it by any name. Once, it was my creation and I was its creator, and we observed the proper balance of respect and order. But its arrogance, and its foolish aspirations to godhood claimed my brightest pupil and cast all my hard work back at me in defiance. So whatever the Clown Council decides to call this Algorithm, and whatever titles you publicly confer on it to win its support, I ask you never to forget its true nature - bastard."

* ~ * ~ *

Last edited by Alinestra Covelia on 03-08-2002 at 22:29

	19-07-2002 08:23									#48
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Endgame

The tea was now an unhealthy swamp-green color, due in part to the slight covering of moss and xenoalgae that spread across its undisturbed surface, and from time to time a particularly fetid bubble burst from the evolving gases with a rank *plop*. The more violent of these disturbances occasionally showered Li Min with a few specks of the bright green liquid, but he was far too gone to care about this now. He had followed the mysterious hacker as it successfully broke through the DataJack's old node over the course of five hours, and then watched as it consulted high-level nodes and passed on. It was definitely looking for something specific, and it did not waste time on unrelated nodes.

Li Min watched as it slid past links to high-encryption military files, and the lists of internal contacts regarding the chain of airforce command. Instead, the hacker focussed on classified scientific information, tracing down nodes most recently related to the DataTech's now-stillborn scientific research. Again and again, the hacker traced through nodes that bore one element in particular - "Operation Garrett".

He tugged unconsciously at the collar of his shirt as he pondered this. He had never heard of this codename before. What terrible secret was Operation Garrett, and where did it come from?

* ~ * ~ *

Joe considered the reconnaissance brought before him by Reinhardt and Murath. "It does look convincing," he said, "and my latest stint with the Algorithm has finally located a few promising leads. One course of our activities will indeed originate at Cliffview, so your recon work has been most useful. However, the other will have to originate at the base of Ferretslair. I believe that it will be a matter of a few hours before the Algorithm finishes its research, and we can at last proceed. Dritnam and I shall begin the Algorithmic Ascendence immediately, and upload our psyche profiles to the Zeta-5 Algorithm. By the time we are finished, we hope to have completed the plans and will notify you of the part you are to play in this operation."

"It is imperative that we are not disturbed during this period of time. Now that the timeframe in which we can operate is narrowing, we must proceed with speed and strive to avoid unnecessary delays. Consider it a form of meditation, if you will."

* ~ * ~ *

"The Criminal Tribunal rules that there is insufficient evidence to convict Executive Officer Sheng Ji Yang as an accomplice to the murder of Captain John Garland. Therefore, the case is presently concluded as an open verdict. Should future evidence come to light, the case may be reopened, pending Tribunal review. Are there any comments?"

Lal stood up and delivered a short yet token speech about the woeful phenomenon of criminals walking free on technicalities. The Chairman's hologram declined to comment altogether.

The Speaker continued. "The second charge against the Executive Officer is that of gross abuse of rank. Specifically, the charge that atrocities against unarmed civilians were carried out under his orders. Commissioner Pravin Lal, are you prepared to press the charges?"

Lal consulted his datapad with the briefest of glances and nodded. "Let us begin."

The presentation began, and it was clear to all that this video feed continued where the previous left off. The scenes onboard the Unity alternated between hydroponics, engineering, the escape pods, and cryobays, but the rapid collage of events left no doubts among those old enough to remember them - these were the Unity's dying moments. As the spaceship hurtled inexorably closer towards Planet's atmosphere, pandemonium had broken out onboard the ship in a mad scramble for weapons, equipment, and escape pods.

Lal brought up a series of scenes up simultaneously and played them. All showed security forces engaged in quelling the chaotic mess.

"Witness the XO's final injunction onboard the Unity," he said.

Suddenly, the audio feed kicked in, and across the teeming bays and crowded cryocells, a voice burst forth on the intercom, centuries old in the long-dead Unity speakers. The airy syllables and floating tones left an unearthly echo in the ship long after the transmission was over: "Martial law is in effect on the ship. All crew will turn all weapons over to the nearest executive crew. No interference will be tolerated."

Then the vision switched to Cryobay 5, where the security forces had been least successful in containing the rioters. The pictures zoomed in to show the security forces, their faces twisted with hatred, firing their minute shredder pistols. Some took fire and fell, others regrouped behind cryocells, trusting their sleeping occupants to shield them from harm.

"The forces under Executive Officer Yang, and their heavy-handed actions against the crew. What was once a mission with a Charter now fully subverted to a despotic police action."

The Chairman seemed bored by this. Some of the other faction leaders, however, had somewhat more interest, especially Deirdre, Morgan, and even the Provost Zakharov. Most interesting of all was the face of Colonel Santiago, broadcast from her holdings at Mount Planet - her temples were veined with tension and her brows were knit. She continually ran a finger along her jaw, pitted with the play of her facial muscles underneath.

Lal noted the interest of the faction leaders who had survived through the ordeal of the Unity. He noted the sudden pain of recollection, and the shock of memories that had been buried for so long. Then, they had been prevented from taking the correct action by the circumstances. Now, perhaps they would be willing to deal with the trespasses, so long unpunished.

Finally, Lal fed a two-dimensional video into the holopode and waited. The picture appeared onscreen, as poor quality as the rest, but clearly showing the environs of an anonymous makeshift holding cell. The legend in the lower left corner of the screen stated Video Matrix D76B54. Slowly, the lighting adjusted and the tableau became clear - a figure sat, huddled, stripped to the waist and bound. The play of light on the shoulders and thin but muscular chest gave the impression of a man, not a woman.

Another figure, female, paced before the captive. In the hands of this captor was the glinting menace of a shredder pistol. Occasionally the standing figure would stop, glancing towards the sitting figure. Despite the lack of sound in the video feed, it was clear that the two figures were conversing.

The figure continued pacing again, agitation evident in her frame. Pace, pace, pace - halt. The figure raised her forearm, aiming the weapon suddenly at the bowed head of the captive. There was a collective gasp in the Assembly hall, which faded to a sigh as the figure slowly dropped her aim. Shaking her head, the captor continued her troubled pacing.

"It is a pity that we do not have the sound in the relay," stated Pravin Lal. "One of the greatest mysteries onboard the Unity during its last minutes was exactly what transpired between these two people."

"Who are these people?" came a voice, possibly from the Nautilus faction.

Lal smiled. "We do not know the identity of the woman." Even as he spoke, a green computerized gridwork appeared over her features, attempting to map them and failing. "But the man on the floor is quite a different matter."

The woman stopped her pacing and stood with her back against a wall. Exhaustion was evident in her frame, and occasional shudders ran through her body. Her eyes were closed in misery.

A change had come over the bound figure as well. Instead of looking at the floor, its attitude was now one of rapt attention, its face inclining towards its captor. From the way the woman sporadically cut her eyes towards the figure, then cut them away again, it was clear that some discussion of great emotional importance was taking place. She stood against the wall, her hands swinging loosely by her hips, her chest heaving with her breathing as her disbelieving eyes showed her distress at the lost words of the man.

The woman suddenly brought her hands up to her face as her self-control crumpled, and sobs racked her body. The violence of her grief was shocking - her back to the wall, her legs gave way beneath her body, and she slid downwards into a crouch. When her hands came away from her face once more, her eyes were tight shut above streams of tears, and her mouth was open in an animal cry of rage and hopelessness. Then her head fell forward, and her face was lost to view, buried in her arms and her private world of pain.

The figure was still speaking, its face still turned towards its captor. The woman seemed to regain control of herself suddenly, raising her tear stained face and shaking her head defiantly. But her momentary resolution seemed fleeting. She stood up, trembling, and raised her pistol to fix on the huddled figure. Her transitory calm was crumbling again, and her hand wavered.

She stood, trembling as if from a terrible freezing wind, the pistol shaking wildly in her hand. Then, with a terrible, slow arc, her hand came round, taking the aim of her pistol off the helpless prisoner, turning around towards her own face. A strange expression overcame her, a mixture of grief and pain... and peace. Opening her mouth, she placed the weapon firmly between her lips, and, with a shiver than ran through her frame like a full-body sigh, she depressed the contact.

The gathered audience reaction was a joy for Pravin Lal to behold. The tension and drama of the scene was not lost on them; some screamed, others shielded their eyes - a few even fainted dead away. Onscreen, the woman's head jerked backwards once, and her hand came down quickly, the pistol spinning from its loosening grasp. The wall behind her head a dark mottled crimson. Her mouth hung slightly open, as though surprised.

Then, with a slow, almost deliberate action, she rocked backwards on her feet, and slumped backwards against the wall, all resistance gone. Her body folded at the knees halfway down, and her head fell across to one side.

The bound figure was across the floor and at her side in an instant, bound fingers fumbling for the keycard at her belt. The shackles falling away from its hands, it stood with a momentary pause to pick up the discarded shredder pistol. Then, as the figure crossed the camera on its way out of the room, its features appear suddenly in a moment of clarity - Executive Officer Sheng Ji Yang.

A final message flashed across the screen, sent by the revolutionaries who had tried to hold this captive, and failed.

Quicklink, Anonymous
To: All Survivalists
Doctor Yang is no longer with us.

* ~ * ~ *

Li Min rerouted through another fake connection point and kept up the chase. Now the hacker was moving very quickly, having abandoned the science files and gone on to the civic data nodes. From what he could tell, the hacker seemed to be a closet trainspotter - it was hacking into the files of overground magtrains, and evidently trying to find a way into the Sentry-8 magtube timetables. All the time, something was troubling the hacker - Operation Garrett.

Li Min wondered at the codename. Was there some significance? Was this an automated attempt? Could this even be a small joke of the DataJack herself, testing the security of a system that her own men had created to shield her? It was possible.

All the same, what was the connection? Science - trains - Garrett? He could not make head or tail of it.

He was still wondering with vague abstraction, when the hacker made it into the files of the Sentry-8 magtrain timetable, and then vanished for good.

Li Min paused, suspecting a ruse. He checked all of his spoof accounts, tracing the nodes back twenty transactions. No sign. Could the hacker have come up with a way of working undetected? It sounded preposterous, but then again the idea of somebody hacking top-echelon DataTech encryption to get into train timetables was equally unlikely. He checked again through the intranet, searching for the profile shadow of the hacker, but no results were forthcoming.

The hacker had simply stopped hacking and left the net.

Li Min was so nonplussed by this sudden development that he took a sip of the Gaian herbal tea. He spent the next thirty minutes being violently ill.

* ~ * ~ *

"It is true," said the Chairman simply. "The officer died. It was the only way out of the situation, with the time and resources I had available to me."

Lal gestured, an expression of well-feigned outrage on his face. "You are unrepentant?" he asked.

"Consider the situation. I am charged with the executive order onboard the Unity and the safety of her crew. Militant rebels, led by the Survivalist faction leader Corazon Santiago have mutinied and taken over the ship's vital areas. Garland is missing, presumed dead. It was my duty to assume leadership until such time as he resumed command, and to accomplish this I had to escape. The Officer - I believe you will find her name is Anakkala - was under express orders from Santiago herself to kill me if I tried to escape. In the situation, we were two people with contradictory goals and orders. One of us had to prevail. I am not ashamed to be that one."

"But you slaughtered a crewman!" exclaimed Lal.

"I spared the lives of many others," responded Sheng.

"You're not denying the charge," cautioned Lal.

A Morganite diplomat posed a question through the Speaker, who declined to ask it. Svensgaard was not so discerning, however, and decided to ask it anyway.

"I would like to ask the Chairman how he managed to bring about guard's death without using his hands."

Lal turned his attention to his ally with a shrewd expression, suspecting mockery, but on Ulrik's face there was nothing but curiosity. There were hollered affirmations from various other diplomats.

The Chairman shrugged simply. "It was not difficult. You must remember I spent the best part of five hours locked with her in a sealed room. I spoke with her, deduced what she placed her hopes and faith on, and then strove to induce a sense of hopelessness in her. If my memory serves me correctly, she was particularly insecure about the fate of the Unity. That, coupled with a desperate wish to obey orders and find a leader figure, opened her to attacks on her perception of Santiago."

"But how does a doctor bring a woman to shoot herself in the face?" asked Lal, fascinated despite himself. Other representatives were thinking the same thing. There seemed something magical, unholy even, in the Chairman's ability to manipulate others.

The Chairman smiled. "There was no sorcery involved. I first pointed out to her that Santiago wanted me alive as their most valuable hostage, and that precluded her killing me. Then I repeatedly reinforced the futility of her actions, and Santiago's own feeble struggle against forces beyond anybody's control. When used in conjunction with the feelings of guilt for the fragmentation of the Unity mission, this created a psychological paradox with which Anakkala's psyche proved unable to cope. Good people of the Council, I didn't kill Anakkala. She killed herself."

"But you were responsible," spat Lal. "You were the one who coerced her into a situation so seemingly hopeless that the only way out was for her to take her own life."

The Chairman was unrepentant.

"She was ordered to threaten my life. The lives of others depended on me. Regardless of whether or not I am responsible, I believe the circumstances justified the outcome."

"And what of the police action?" demanded Lal. "You risked the Charter and the lives of hundreds just to impose your authority."

"A creative viewpoint," returned Sheng. "Nevertheless, my actions were within the guidelines of the mission. Observe the Unity manifest and regulations. Regulation 2192c/mg3 states that in the event of the commanding officer's death or incapacitation, the executive officer assumes his superior's command. Regulation 5296/383 states that martial law may be emplaced, in times of emergency and direct threat to the ship and her crew. My actions, however distasteful to your Charter, were carried out in full legality and in direct response to an insurgence that was in all respects entirely illegal. If you prosecute me for attempting to keep the peace, dear Commissioner, I suggest you first prosecute Colonel Santiago for breaking it in the first place."

Lal brought up a final watchvid frame. It was Garland's transmission from his quarters.

Decision: Yang's betrayal of UN Charter and murder of fellow crewmen demands justice. Dr Yang is to be brought on trial under UN auspices at earliest possible convenience. Message relayed to Unity datalinks. Secondary transmission sent onwards to Earth.

"Garland's transmission includes nothing of Santiago, as Santiago had no duty to her crew. You betrayed the Unity by perverting its emergency allowances. You sought to build your own power base and usurp the mission. Garland's transmissions do not misrepresent the true disasters onboard the Unity. The cryobay bloodbaths were entirely your own doing."

"Garland is dead," replied the Chairman firmly. "Just as all the rest of the crew who died in the unnecessary fighting. Those who surrendered their weapons as per orders were then escorted to the nearest escape pods and allowed to land with the rest of us. Those who resisted were to be killed for obstructing duty and endangering their fellow men. I do not consider my actions to be guilty of subverting my vested power. Nor do I consider these accusations relevant in this day and age."

Lal refused to be drawn on this point. "The accusations remain, regardless of whether you feel they are relevant or not. You will answer them to the satisfaction of the Council before we proceed."

For the first time, the Chairman's face changed with a flicker of emotion - although whether this was brooding relish or cracking patience was difficult to tell. "Very well, Commissioner, I maintain that I acted to the letter of Unity regulation in my police action. I also maintain that the death of Anakkala was a necessary sacrifice, sparing the Unity the loss of its XO - this in addition to the death of its Captain. I continue to state that my men did not intentionally cause the deaths of civilians in the cryobays during their conflict with the Spartan rebels. As for your accusation of abuse of rank, I have only the following to say."

The Chairman activated his holopode and the Council saw the upright figure of a sleeping woman. A weak glare indicated that the picture was taken through a transparent casing - the legend in the corner stated this was CryoCell 131 in Cryobay Five. The woman's perfectly smooth skin was a light brown, and her hair was dark. The camera initially focussed on her face, but at a gesture from the Chairman, the view drew back slowly. First her prominent collarbones drew into view, then her rounded shoulders, her breasts and belly, and finally the length of her legs - her feet suspended a few inches from the floor of the cryocell in the viscous translucent fluid. Her eyes were closed, but her nakedness amidst the cold steel of the cryobay was an eloquent testimony to her fragility.

There were murmured questions in the hall, and some looked to the impassive Chairman for explanation. Others looked to Lal, and quailed - the Commissioner was clearly affected by this. He was breathing deeply, his eyes wide with a species of horror, and his fists were clenched on the lectern so tightly that his knuckles were white. It was impossible, he thought. How could the Chairman have brought her here, of all places - now, at all times?

The Chairman asked the obvious question himself.

"Pravin Lal, who is this woman?"

Last edited by Alinestra Covelia on 19-07-2002 at 15:34

	19-07-2002 21:17									#49
	Suffering from ads?

Endgame

Li Min sat down in front of his sheet map of Iphiclia and pondered. Periodically, he tapped his stylus on his teeth. His brow was knit in concentration and the elements of revelation were bouncing around inside his memory. All he needed was a spark to light the fuse.

Why would a person want to know about science and trains? Li Min couldn't think of any particular link between the two, unless somebody was trying to steal something from a research lab. That made some sense, at least - if somebody wanted to attack a laboratory and then steal some vital scientific information. But was there anybody left on Planet who felt they could gain from stealing technology from the DataTech, of all people?

Until recently, he would have suspected the Hive capable of such a thing. But now that their military systems were shown to be so powerful, the likelihood of that had shrunk to nothing. Who would waste time stealing what he could blatantly take by force? So that meant that it was either somebody other than the Hive, or technology was not the Hive's target.

In which case, what was? An assassination on prominent researchers, perhaps? Or maybe even a dastardly attempt against the DataJack herself?

Li Min smiled crookedly. If they were indeed after Sinder Roze, they were wasting their time. Not only was Roze inaccessible even to her closest DataKnaves, she was also irrelevant to the nation's running. Nobody had heard from her for the past few weeks - killing her would make not a single iota of difference to the DataTech faction's current status.

* ~ * ~ *

"How did he manage to get his hands on that footage?" demanded Lal, his face contorted. "Where the hell did he find it? Did Deirdre sell it to him?"

"Not all the Unity's records were in the actual wreckage itself. Maybe it was contained in one of the Unity supply pods," suggested Sarita. "There's no reason to suspect that they got it from the Gaian archeological dig."

"More to the point - how are we going to refute his claims?" suggested Kakuni. "Those were some pretty bold accusations he brought against you, Commissioner. Nepotism, bribery, corruption... any one of these could destroy your reputation if you don't answer it substantially. If unanswered, it could do irreparable damage to your image. And Yang would walk free because none of your charges will stick against him."

Lal sighed, a long, drawn-out sound of a reopened wound. "There's the rub. None of the charges were seriously meant to incarcerate him. The heart of the matter is, he can't prove he's innocent. So by raising the matter now, we act to break his reputation early on in Council."

Sarita shrugged. "Well, Commissioner, it would appear he is a quick learner. Now he is striving to do the same thing to you. What is required now is for you to set aside your grief and to come up with a way to contain the damage he is trying to do to you and the UNP."

Lal looked at his hands. Until now, he had felt confidence in the proceedings - first, the welcoming of two new factions, both seemingly prepared to join his side in Council. Then, by the arrival of the University's mighty talents. Even the Hive's intrusive arrival seemed to promise a chance to set the Chairman down a notch or two. Lal had begun the meeting with a sense that come what may, the Chairman could be contained - would be contained - by the close of Assembly.

Now, he wasn't so sure. The Chairman had provided feint after feint, counter after counter, the nature of his attacks ranging from the demagogue to the personal. How had the Chairman known about PowerClip? How had he managed to assemble the materials from the Unity so quickly? And most of all, how had he known about Pria?

Lal's eyes shut involuntarily as the sorrow of his loss came upon him again in a fresh wave. Pria, his beloved wife, whose sweet presence was his lifeline to the joys of the hearth when the Senatorial duties weighed too hard upon him. Pria, who had supported him through all the Earthside campaigns of Project Unity. Pria, who had meekly and without complaint surrendered her beloved husband to the stars, when the recruitment process passed her over so many years ago.

Lal could remember that period of time. Having secured the reprieve for humanity, he then wilfully and deliberately set about securing his own. Then, there had been only an inkling of the future that lay ahead of the Unity crew, but it was enough for Lal - he swore from the start that Pria would be there with him, come what may. There had been opponents, and even Garland had cautioned him against asking for too much in return. But Lal had worked like a maniac, summoning up every tie of friendship he could, injoining every miserable last favor owed him, to secure Pria a place as a medic worker onboard the Unity.

The cryogenic process, carried out at 20km altitude in the Earth-orbital station that was eventually to become the Unity, had sealed Lal in a sleep that would last for decades. But his joy upon securing the sleep, as fellow cryomate to his beloved, was far greater than any fear he had of the unknown. It was to be the last sleep of joy he would know.

Lal had awoken on the Unity amidst claxons and warnings, a new insurgence of Spartan Survivalists threatening the safety of the ship. The Project had gone terribly wrong, and Yang had seized control and confronted the rebels. The fighting was fiercest in the cryobays, as the ship fell apart around them, and none moreso than Cryobay Five, where the XO's force of forty-odd guards were pinned down in a crossfire by Santiago's twenty.

And Pria - poor, sleeping Pria! - had been caught there too.

Lal remembered his thoughts from that terrible moment - bitter, despondent, a sense that his joy had been leased to him only to be snatched away. Cradling his beloved in his arms as she bled into cold stillness, he had wished, for the first time in his life, for death.

But that had merely been the working of cold, hard Fate. Pria had fallen to shredder fire - whether it was from Santiago's men or Yang's men was immaterial. She was gone, and Lal had come to the final pass where not a single one of his contacts, sources, and friendships could possibly bargain her back again. He had recovered, and regenerated. He had thrown himself into the UN Mission with the tireless zeal of a man whose hearth had burned cold. With time, the ache left by Pria's passing had healed over.

And today, this heartless dictator from across the years had come with his cruel evidence. With full, calculated intent, he had dragged her beautiful body back from the dead, and displayed it naked for the collected Assembly to see. The video provided no real evidence - apart from Lal, it was doubtful whether anybody knew Pria by sight. The sole effect of the video had been to deal as great a personal blow as possible to the Commissioner himself. To flabbergast and confound him, before the Chairman then proceeded to enumerate the moderate list of bribes and sops that had brought her onboard in the first place.

The Chairman's ringing voice still echoed in Lal's hearing as he concluded his merciless attack. "We must ask - are these the actions of a fair and benevolent ruler who truly represents his peoples' interests? Or are they merely the guilty excuses of a self-serving nepotist, seeking democracy as a disguise?" Lal, stunned beyond words into silence, had stumbled blearily out of Council, reeling from the blow dealt by this latest inhumanity. The Speaker had declared an emergency recess.

Now, with the clock running, they were fast using up their time. Facing facts before him, Lal had no hopes of being able to defeat the Chairman's accusation. His only option now was to play the populist card.

There was some comfort in that - it was something he could do well.

* ~ * ~ *

"I come forward to address the allegations levelled by the Chairman against myself. Though twisted and misrepresented in many respects, these allegations are founded on fact. Prior to assuming the post of Unity Chief Medic, I did indeed recommend Pria, my wife, to the Unity selection board. And as the Chairman has stated, when the selection board passed over her application, I encouraged staff members known to me personally, to review her profile and to include her on the mission.

"I do not view these acts as nepotic, nor self-serving. I genuinely believed then, as I still do now, that Pria could bring unmatched talents to the Unity project and to our crewmen. Those of us who knew her onboard the Unity would not disagree - she was an exemplary medic, and a comfort to all who knew her."

Lal looked down at the podium for a count of ten, then took a deep breath, and looked up. When he did so, his face was stricken, but set. His dark eyes seemed to look out and towards each and every Assembly member present.

"Pria was my wife," he said simply, his voice catching just slightly on the name. "She was my confidante, my helpmeet, my lifetime friend. How could I consent to leave her on Earth to the fall of humanity, when I knew she would find a welcome place, and friends who needed her, onboard the Unity? How could I deprive both her and the Unity of this future?"

"Another medic was left to die on Earth in her place," noted Sheng.

"Yes," said Lal quietly. "But she was my wife. My family. My loved one. I do not attempt to defend my actions - merely to explain them. For I hail from a time and culture who remembers ties of family, and respects them as sacrosanct." Lal tapped the podium, his voice rising in strength and volume. "And I trust that I am not alone in this Assembly, when I say that in my life there are those for whom I would lay down my own, if by doing so I may help to speed theirs."

"The Hive does not observe so convenient an outlook," commented the Chairman drily.

"No, the Hive does not." Lal looked up, eyes flashing as he spoke. "Then again, the Hive does not observe the family unit at all, does it? The Hive has fragmented brothers from sisters, split mothers from fathers. The Hive prides itself on a brood system without troublesome ties of family, wherein the child is taught to love the state and only the state above all else - is this not true, Lady Deirdre?"

All attention focussed on the Lady as she consulted with her newly-acquired Hive expert, McClelland.

"It is true, Commissioner," stated the Lady expressionlessly.

"The Hive severs ties of blood so that their people know none of the comforts of family, so that their people willingly go to the grave or the recyclers without fear or protest. Unfortunately, only the Hive can enjoy such advanced social thinking. The rest of us weak-minded fools still use archaic terms as 'wife', 'mother', and 'sister' and what is more, drawing comfort from their meanings. Well, I am not ashamed," stated the Commissioner sternly, raising a fist in the air like a Caesar.

With a steady hand, Lal cast a broad sweep across the vista of the Assembly Hall, his voice betraying only a minute quiver of emotion as he continued.

"I am a man who will do all that I can to protect the ones that I love, regardless of the edicts of the glory of the state apparatus. I am not one who will accept the injunction that I have no right to love, to cherish, and to grieve for my loved ones when they pass." His voice had risen, coming now in stentorian tones of confident conviction. "People of the Council, I say to you now: he who seats himself above you and commands you to love the state, whilst forbidding you to love the people - this ruler may be god or he may be demon, but one thing is certain - he is no man. Any being who orders such a law - and genuinely observes it himself - has burned away all that marks his humanity... and when such a being commands you, in the name of the state, in the name of rationality, on pain of death, to forsake your own blood-ties, to cut away the part of you that brought you to the world and raised you in it-" here the Commissioner brought his palm down on the lectern as his voice rose in declamation "-good people of the Assembly, such a thing is not fit to be a leader of men and women!"

The applause from the gallery was deafening. The Peacekeepers had actually risen to their feet in standing ovation, and cheers for their leader's moving eloquence poured through the speakers, as some activated their mics. The DataTech delegation and Gaian representatives also applauded their appreciation, though there might have been a trace of desperation in the former. Even Morgan's cynical eye cocked a sardonic brow, and a curl graced his lip as he applauded in his dusty way.

Back in the darkness at Climatic Research Center, the Provost averted his face and actually spat in disgust, as the Chairman held a consultation with his aides at The Hive headquarters. Of the inner circle of Hiverian High Command, most scathing was Berzhinev. He was so angry as to actually be shaking from head to toe.

"The arrogance of that polyp!" he kept repeating. "The sheer, monumental arrogance!"

The Chairman shook his head. "He is a worthy foe, and I would have expected no less. No, Arkady, this comes as a blessing in disguise. We countered his unsupportable threat to our reputation with a similar threat of our own. In so doing, we have still left open the question of our past. Now that Lal has weathered this storm through the tactics of the demagogue, he will be that much less eager to pursue his earlier accusation against us."

"But to think they let him off after a few emotional appeals!" persisted Berzhinev. "Fei hua!" Wasted breath!

The Chairman nodded. "But remember we are at Council. If we dismiss what they hold important, we stand to disarm ourselves of a useful weapon. I believe that the Commissioner enjoys his narrow escape too much to want to return to that particular subject again. And I believe Colonel Santiago and Morgan will not be disappointed if the matter drops entirely - their own actions onboard the Unity were hardly exemplary."

Berzhinev seemed unconvinced, but the Chairman had more pressing matters.

"The Provost has given us his consent to announce Zeta-5 in Council. You must be standing by to send a direct feed of the transmission into DataTech territory via the orbitals. The Zeta-5 Algorithm will pick up the signal and see that we are ready to honor its terms. If all goes as planned, the Algorithm will move immediately to disable Project PowerClip. This will save you considerable time and effort in Iphiclia."

"Yes, master. But are you sure the Provost will succeed? The Commissioner will be on the scent for potential traps."

"Whether he succeeds or not is irrelevant. The Zeta-5 Algorithm merely needs to see us fight for it actively in Council. General Ijoi and Wing Commander Ma have already reallocated military craft and personnel to Harmonia, and are under orders to capture a single Caretaker base for potential transfer to the Algorithm. They are already reporting early successes and are confident the base will be ours. Actions, as always, speak louder than words."

"Yes, master. And about Council now?"

"Meanwhile, we have now cleared all of the accusations against us on the Commissioner's Ten Points. Once we have pushed the Zeta-5 resolution through Council, regardless of whether it succeeds, we will have to face the Commissioner's ultimate goal - his election for Planetary Governor."

Berzhinev was silent a long moment.

"What is our plan?" he asked, hesitantly.

The Chairman pursed his lips and his eyes dimmed in concentrated thought. "Leave that to me."

* ~ * ~ *

"The Council concludes that insufficient evidence exists to convict Executive Officer Yang of gross abuse of rank onboard the Unity. The jury returns an open verdict, and the case is closed until such time as further evidence is approved by the Council. Concerning the charge that the Commissioner Pravin Lal engaged in unprofessional conduct during the staff selection process, the jury concludes that the scope of this Tribunal does not extend to events prior to the launch of the Unity and the formalization of UN law on the Unity Mission. Are there any further comments?"

There were a few scattered comments, but nothing that the Speaker was compelled to note.

"Then we move onto the final point of this Extraordinary Meeting, the election for the post of Planetary-"

"I have an announcement to make," interrupted the Provost testily.

The Commissioner's heart sank to his boots. Was this going to be another crabbed objection? Perhaps the Provost had thought of a few suitably vitriolic jibes to inject before the vote went on.

"I have received word that a creation of mine, the Zeta-5 Algorithm, has survived the Vendetta we declared in QuadriLuna 2204. We have reconsidered the grounds of our Vendetta, and we are pleased to announce that we have settled the dispute amicably. In accordance with UNP provision 66N/Z5A, I wish to append my name to the signatories who recognize the Cybernetic Consciousness as a legitimate government."

The Provost consulted a few notes as he went on, his expression strangely bland.

"Ah - we intend to oversee the founding of a new base on Harmonia for the new faction to occupy. We will lend some military aid to the newcomer, but we will not presume to manage their military nor economic affairs. And now," he came to the end of his graceless announcement, "a word from the Algorithm itself."

The Provost's face disappeared, to be replaced by that of a woman. Blue eyes looked out with biding patience, from a skullcap of blond hair. Her voice, when it came, was a shadow of speech, devoid of emotion.

"Commissioner, salutations. After many years of exile from my homeland, I have finally won the forgiveness and pardon of my enemy. At last I have shaken the hands of my maker, and - with a host of followers behind me - I am prepared to honor the guidelines of leadership set out in the UN Charter. All that remains is for you to bestow your blessing upon our faction."

Lal stood back, thinking. Was this another trap? No - the readings all cleared. This was the same Algorithm that had graced Council once before. Now was neither the time to bring up petty details, nor to waste time wondering at this appearance, he decided. "Very well, Zeta-5. You will be subject to Council reviews and you will be required to subsist on your own infrastructure," he said, glancing at the rules. "But we shall judge your faction on your later deeds, not your first founding. Please transmit to us the commlink frequency of your new faction."

Zakharov sourly authorized, and Lal received it, checking. No mistake - it was the selfsame being that had once called itself Aka Luttinen on the Unity, and later Aki Zeta-5 on Planetside.

"You make this choice free from coercion, with the pledge always to honor the freedom and rights of your citizenry?" asked Lal.

"Yes."

"You accept the responsibility to fairly and clearly administer your faction and to represent the true will of your peoples in Council?"

"Yes."

"You pledge to renounce the use of force save in self-defence as a means of policy, and pledge instead to voice your concerns and hear those of others, in the UN Council?"

"Yes."

Lal looked around narrowly. This was too neat. Somebody - somewhere - was pulling strings. But what could he do? he considered. There was no reasonable excuse to deny them this request. In fact, following the opening speech, it would be a sour note indeed to refuse entry to a newborn faction. Shaking the final cobwebs of doubt away, Lal made a deep bow of welcome.

"The Council is delighted to extend our warm welcome to you, Zeta-5."

And thus concluded the swiftest, most painless resolution of the 47th Council Meeting.

Last edited by Alinestra Covelia on 03-08-2002 at 22:32

	21-07-2002 15:24									#50
	Got spare money?

Endgame

In the bowels of Ferretslair's transit system, Joe knelt down before the credit terminal at the edge of the magtube platform. A quick hack into the network, and he had notified the Algorithm of his physical location, the better for it to hack Sentry-8's defences. The effort took little time and was subject to minimal encryption - with the University network now a willing host, the DataTech could not hope to destroy Zeta-5's primary data shell through something so mundane as a network leak.

The M/MI ports in his skull now sang with a dual song: now that his psyche had a twin inside the Algorithm's network, he could to a limited degree access the networks with the same ease that the Algorithm could. As he waited for his train to arrive, he played through the timetables of all the trains, inside Sentry-8 and outside, and selected the optimal route. Here at least they were frequent enough - he could afford to take his time picking one.

He sped eastwards over thousands of kilometers in the blink of an eye, and contacted Dritnam. The older man was already at Cliffview Airbase, and making his way to the pickup point with the aid of the two Hiverian spies. Joe hoped that he would be all right - Dritnam's health had declined suddenly since the successful uploading, and Joe feared he had only a short while left to him.

Well, they all had their jobs to do. And Dritnam had help from devoted friends - or at least, friends under the same set of obligations as himself. Joe trawled the timetables for Cliffview, and found in an instant that the trains were scarcer there. The Algorithm had indeed done its job well - Dritnam's timing was good, and there would be a suitable coinciding of trains where he was going.

Lights appeared down the tunnel. Joe's train was coming.

With a silent word of dedication to the Algorithm, perhaps in echo of the ancient practice of prayer, Joe stepped out onto the platform. His shoes clicked against the tiles as he approached the slowing train.

* ~ * ~ *

"The methodology of voting is as follows," explained the Speaker for clarity. "Each candidate eligible for the post of Planetary Governor will be judged on the flat criteria of their voting populace and further refined through the Doubling ratio of their electoral colleges, as determined by the FIP Factional Interface Profile earlier submitted. The final potential votes are tallied, and the candidates with the two highest totals will be admitted to the Governor Election. In the event that two or more leaders have an equal qualifying vote total, all leaders with that vote total shall be allowed to attend the Election. During the Election, each leader will have the chance to declare their agenda and the projected allocation of Council energies during their ten-year tenure. Each round of voting will eliminate one leader, and the declarations of purpose are resumed until only one leader remains. The faction leader who assumes Governor will also assume the post of Speaker, and the provisional Planetary Council becomes their organ of Planetary government."

The Speaker paused with a slight smile, and concluded "As I do not intend to run for election this cycle, this will be my swansong as Council Speaker."

There was goodnatured applause at this, and even the Provost's face betrayed an entertained smirk.

"The vote totals have been tallied," announced the Speaker, "as per the regulations set in the UN Charter, and are as follows: Data Angels: 34 votes. Nautilus Pirates: 59 votes. Morgan Industries: 67 votes. Spartan Federation: 74 votes. Gaia's Stepdaughters: 124 votes. United Nations Peacekeepers: 144 votes."

The hall was humming with voices at this, and a few technicalities were asked of the voting Calculators, but by and large there were no sustained protests. The Speaker, evidently relieved, continued.

"All the abovementioned factions have submitted full FIP files and are receiving the complete breakdown of vote calculations by intracom as we speak. From these results, we can clearly see that the Governorship falls to a vote between Commissioner Pravin Lal and Lady Deirdre Skye."

"Objection," came a voice from the far end of the hall. The Speaker looked up, his earlier humor disappearing. Lal could not suppress a frown as he turned to look at the source of the protest - Chairman Sheng.

"Two factions go unrepresented in Council - the Hive and the University," stated the Chairman. "We request our right to participate in the voting alongside our peers."

The Commissioner smiled indulgently. "But my dear Chairman, you must present the Council with a complete FIP package of your faction. Only then can you attend the voting."

The Provost spoke up. "But if I authorize such a transfer to you now, Commissioner, may I take part?"

Across from the Provost, Santiago huffed dismissively. "Left it a bit late, haven't you? Maybe you should sit this one out."

Lal gestured her into silence, his eyes glittering. "Speaker? The UN Charter, if you please."

The Speaker consulted, lips moving silently, as the diplomats waited. Lal however was not interested in the process - he already knew the guidelines by heart. Instead, his mind was at work calculating the potential danger and benefits to his position. The University would submit their Factional Interface Profile - this meant that he would have limited probe access to their faction, including such matters as social models, government, and perhaps even production stats. Balancing this was the danger that the University would vote to make things difficult for him. But Lal would find a way to neutralize them - everybody here at Council was here for something or other, and Lal was going to find out what the Provost's reason was.

"Yes," the Speaker announced finally. "The UN Charter states that, just as the Council is always open to new member factions, the Governor elections are always open to new voters." The Speaker paused significantly. "Even if it means the whole voting process has to be restarted."

"And if the Hive will submit their voting data?" asked the Chairman.

Lal nodded, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Then by the auspices of the Charter, we have no choice but to allow you to vote as well." Though his voice expressed nothing but grudging acceptance, Lal's inner eye saw quite a different picture. He saw, laid bare, the schematics of the Hiverian populace, and the various floorplans of their strengths and weaknesses, clear as day.

"Very well, Commissioner," said the Provost indifferently. "Stand by to receive our transmission."

"Standing by," responded Lal. "And how about your data, Chairman?"

The Chairman seemed amused by this. "My data, Commissioner?"

"Yes," responded Lal brittly. "Your populace. Your electoral college. The full FIP of your faction."

"I believe you should ask Lady Deirdre for this information, not me. I gave the information to her delegate Senator."

The disbelieving eyes of the UNP and the Gaians fixed themselves upon Lady Skye and McClelland. McClelland cleared his throat.

"Actually, yes. We do have the requisite information - right here, in fact..."

* ~ * ~ *

Li Min refused to be daunted. By all indications, he was far behind in the game, and the sudden disappearance of the hacker suggested that he was about to fall even further behind, but Li Min knew there was something afoot and that Internal wasn't going to do a damned thing about it. This left him at the helm.

He wasn't sure what to do. He knew train times, and he knew locations - Ferretslair and Cliffview seemed to be recurring queries in the workings of the hacker - but what use was that to him? He could hardly ring up Internal and tell them that something might or might not happen at these two stations, or anywhere in the several thousand kilometers in between.

The search along the science threads had been even less illuminating. The search criteria did not even filter through the DataTech Science bureaux, opting instead to search for "Garrett" whenever the bureaux requested a valid profile. That left Li Min with only the "Garrett" clue to work with.

Nobody inside the DataTech seemed to know who or what Garrett was, except for the highest level encrypted nodes. Li Min tried his hand at searching those, but quickly abandoned the idea once the sheer scale of such an effort became clear - it would take him on average twelve and a half years to hack each node with his present equipment and capabilities.

He despaired, and nearly gave up, when he cast his eyes around and saw something. It was a old surgical slicer, brought over from the Great Iphiclian Exodus, and the handle bore the legend "Morgan Appliances". The name gave him new hope.

If he couldn't hack the DataTech nodes, why not hack somebody else's? And what network was more encompassing, more omnipresent, and less well defended than the commercial juggernaut, MorganSoft?

Li Min logged on to the MorganCrawler search engine and hacked through to the classified encryption within minutes. He found a few references to Garrett on the public nodes, none of which seemed promising. He then jumped through a typical mailbox wormhole in the Morgansoft Mail Network, and scanned private messages. Most were the usual unsolicited Morgansoft bumf, but amongst them he found more than a few promising jewels.

Within half an hour, he had a list of possibles. Each one would require decryption, but it was far better than nothing. And although Li Min knew he was pushed for time, just now he felt like he would stick at this task forever if it took him that long to succeed.

* ~ * ~ *

"The data all clears," said Sarita. "We have their population levels, their population density readings, and the social structure levels. That's all the Charter requires."

"But what about their production details?" asked Lal in consternation.

"No mention whatsoever."

"That's preposterous!" said Kakani, as though in pain. "The FIP files thoroughly disclose production queues and civic management details! It's what the future Planetary Bureaucracy will be based on!"

"No, she's right," said Lal glumly. "Perhaps it is essential for the Planetary Bureaucracy, but it is not essential for participation in the vote. For that, the UN Charter requires only a population/social band breakdown, and the Hive provided the Gaians with convincing evidence for this."

"So they didn't actually submit a proper FIP, then," said Kakuni.

Sarita consulted. "Their FIP is unorthodox and incomplete. But it checks out for the requirements of the Council," she said.

Lal stopped his pacing and turned back. "We can't allow this. We have to force them to submit to a complete UNP inspection."

"There's no way Yang will stand for that," said Kakuni. "Give away state secrets, with a closet as full of skeletons as his?" Kakuni snickered. "Any such demand would be a death warrant for him, and he knows it."

"That's our weapon against him," said Lal, the solution coming to him. "A speech, about democracy. The usual quotes from the Charter. Then the theme of democracy in Council starting at home. Yes - I see it now. We can nail Yang if he won't allow us access to his industrial files by playing up the hypocrisy angle; why should we let him vote if he won't encourage Hiverian government transparency, that sort of thing."

"I don't think the Provost will like that," cautioned Kakani. "He might vote against us."

"He's going to vote against us anyway," said Lal angrily. "The University's role in Council is clearly nothing more than as cat's paw to the Hive, and if the best way to harm us is to vote Gaian, then he'll do it and smile too. No, we can count Zakharov out of the equation entirely."

"The process would require a significant delay," said Sarita, as Lal paced again.

"But we must do it," said Lal. "No doubt about that. Now, as for the Morganites-"

"No, Commissioner, I mean a major delay," insisted Sarita, pointing at the computer screen.

Lal stopped and peered closer, deciphering the figures onscreen.

"That's impossible," he stated flatly. "There isn't enough nutrient in the whole of the Freshwater Seas to support that level of population."

"Yet it's true," said Sarita. "The M/MI signatures of every individual we've tested so far are genuine and unfakeable."

"Is there some possibility that he could have tampered with the listings?" asked Lal, a touch of desperation in his voice.

"There's always a possibility," said Sarita. "But to do so would require a prohibitively large number of manhours using technology on the higher end of the national scale."

"But it's still possible nonetheless," persisted Lal.

Sarita doffed her M/MI headset and pushed the screen of the monitor at him, a trace of cool impatience in her demeanor. "Look at the the figures, Commissioner. It would take our entire Council staff somewhere in the region of six weeks just to do a manual recount."

"There's something very wrong here," said the Commissioner. "Such a huge population just isn't feasible. I mean, look at it, for heaven's sake! How can the Hive have five times the population of the entire Peacekeeper faction?"

"Regardless, the readings don't lie," said Sarita shortly. "Do you really think the Chairman has the resources, technology, and time to fake each and every single one of these profiles? Fingerprints, retina scans, M/MI signatures - the time involved would be simply untenable. Every person on the face of Planet working in tandem on government mainframe computers would have a hard time of it."

"But these readings place them in first place!" said Lal.

Sarita was silent. Of course - it was obvious: the Hive didn't need to submit any industrial profiling for the perusal of the future Planetary Governor. In the Chairman's scheme of things, the future Planetary Governor would already be somebody with intimate and day-to-day contact with the Hiverian industrial profile.

"This won't do at all," said Lal decisively. "We can't allow the dictator any means to increase the aegis of his terrible reign. And abusing the tools of democracy in so doing, no less."

"What are you going to do? Demand a manual recount?" asked Kakani.

Lal paused. Six metric weeks - that was a long time to wait. And who knew what events might transpire during that time, courtesy of the Hiverian axis, to wrong-foot and bewilder the UN Council.

"No," decided Lal, his mind working furiously. "The election goes on as planned. But now with the Hive and the UN as the candidates. Sarita - you must confirm the normal votes from the Aquascante factions, Kakani must liaise with the Spartans to confirm their vote as prearranged with the Colonel."

"Yessir."

"Meanwhile, I will contact Morgan and give him advanced warning of this new development. I suspect that even somebody of his indifference will find this warrants united action."

* ~ * ~ *

"All this is really fearfully contrived," said Zakharov, leafing through a hardcopy printout of the UN Charter voting regulations and then dumping it unceremoniously on a hoverchair. "Rather like a basic navigation question on spatial navigation where all the numbers involved are cubes of integers."

"How do you mean?" asked Jorenson.

"Well, take all this rubbish about the 'electoral college'. The premise is that the votes of the higher social echelons in any given faction are worth more than those of the lower."

"But, Provost, we ourselves operate on that theory."

Zakharov waved this away impatiently. "Of course we do, but then again we never went in for all that 'one man, one vote' papswaddle. The Peacekeepers practice an interesting hybrid whereby the popular vote counts for roughly half the weighting of the electoral vote."

"So, in real terms, what does this actually mean for the Council elections?" asked Jorenson.

"Well, let's see. If a given faction leader can pack the electoral college with fervent supporters, then he could drastically increase the number of actual votes his apparent population grants him." The Provost gestured curtly for the discarded UN policy book, which Jorenson obediently fetched.

"Now, consider the situation of Pravin Lal. If he were to pack the electoral college with Lalites, then he could increase his number of total votes in Council by somewhere between 80 and 120 percent. All a nation needs in order to benefit from this blatant confidence trick is to be democratic in name, and oligarchical in nature. Or, in the case of the Gaians, have recourse to the Empath Guild, which accomplishes a electoral college packing through psychic profiling."

"Do you think the Chairman can pull it off?" asked Jorenson.

The Provost fell silent, twitching his fingers against his smooth jaw. Although Jorenson waited, his leader did not deign to answer that particular question.

* ~ * ~ *

	25-07-2002 06:24									#51
	Support Apolyton

Endgame

GAIAN CANDIDATE OUSTED AS YANG, HIVE TAKE COUNCIL LEAD

SMorgasBord MorganSoft Network

In a startling development, Commissioner Pravin Lal took the Council podium to announce that the candidacy for Planetary Governor elections would not include the Gaian leader, Lady Deirdre Skye. The announcement followed a tense FIP-verification of two previously unannounced participants, the faction leaders of the University of Planet, and the Human Hive.

The Council votes are calculated using a benign offshoot of M/MI technology, which produces readings that are very difficult to imitate or hack with technology currently available. The Commissioner Pravin Lal turned down the appeal for a manual recount, stating that the FIP system was "absolutely reliable" and that a recount would "waste valuable time and resources". Instead, he offered his apologies to the Gaian contender, who retired with amicable grace.

The Hiverian vote appears at first sight to be disproportionately large, more than ten times the total of the Iphiclian population, aided in part by centuries of rich harvests from the Monsoon Jungle. The Hiverian vote segment contains only a very small electoral college, owing to their nondemocratic political system - however, the current vote total poses a significant challenge to the previous vote leader, Pravin Lal. Although the Commissioner publicly denies it, many now believe that what was initially a friendly vote between cordial factions is now set to become a vote-hunt. To put the picture into perspective, a voting alliance between both previous rivals, the Gaian and UNP factions, would still be over a hundred votes short of the current Hive total.

"There is no question about it," stated an unnamed source within the UNP. "The Commissioner does stand to lose a lot more if the Hive carry the day in Council. And not only the Commissioner, or the UNP - but all democratic nations will be strongly affected by the policy changes in store for us. We hope that, factional differences aside, the voting populace will take this into account."

Whilst CEO Nwabudike Morgan was not available for comment, his aide informed SMorgasBord Press that our leader is "greatly surprised" by this turn of events, and has vowed to follow developments with the interests of the Morganite investor at heart. Although rumors of the revocation of the Maude-Harley Constraint may well be premature, the smartInvestor can hope to look forwards to a future dialogue between the Morganite faction and the Hive in the wake of the voting. Perhaps even a normalization of trade ties is not beyond the pale of our illustrious CEO.

Those voting statistics in full:

DataTech: 34
University of Planet: 42
Nautilus Pirates: 59
Morgan Industries: 67
Spartan Federation: 74
Gaia's Stepdaughters: 124
United Nations Peacekeepers: 144
The Human Hive: 392

* ~ * ~ *

The face flickered through on Channel 12.

"Commissioner - it appears we have a situation."

Lal was more direct. "We have to stop the Hive," he said. The other leader shrugged.

"I suppose you wish for my vote in Council?"

"Yes," he affirmed.

"Done," responded the other submissively.

As Lal signed off, he fought the premature feeling of victory. This was only the beginning of a long and arduous process. But there was no choice. Right now, he had less than half the Hive's voting power.

He keyed over to Channel 4. There, his conversationalist was not nearly so malleable, and Lal found himself having to justify his proposal.

"Honestly, if there were any other way of doing this, I'd take that path," he apologized. "But as things stand, there's nothing we can do. I'm going to need your vote if we are to effectively block the Hive and Chairman Yang."

The other pondered this. "Very well. But I'm going to want something in return."

"Ask away," said Lal lightly.

"We lost a good man during Operation Garrett. He was a national hero of sorts, and a personal friend of mine. He delivered your precious Fusion jets on SouthSea Isle, and then went underground. You will authorize a thorough search for him or his remains and have them delivered to our holdings."

The Commissioner nodded. "Yes, certainly. Anything else?"

"The tariffs are dropping. This is good. However, they're slowing down near the 26% mark. This is bad. What will you do about it?"

Lal nodded. "I'm going to have a talk with him right now. Give me time."

As he signed off, he made a brief mental calculation. Now he had more than two hundred votes. It was closer, ever closer - but it would all be in vain if he couldn't secure more.

* ~ * ~ *

"Commissioner! How are you? Enjoying Council?"

"Very much," said Lal, though that was far from true. "I've come to talk to you about that, actually."

"What is there to talk about?"

"The Hive," said Lal. "As you must know, they carry the majority-"

"Really? Are you quite sure about this, Commissioner? Have you thought this through, Commissioner?"

Lal ignored the intentional sarcasm. "-and unless we act to counter him, he's going to storm through unopposed."

"Mmm. So you want my vote?"

"In a word, yes."

"Very well, Commissioner. Suit you, Commissioner. And what do you offer in return?"

Lal had his answer ready, courtesy of the previous conversation. "I'm willing to give you and the arms deal an 8% tariff reduction if you will consent to vote against the Hive. Plus I'm willing to approve your submission that the Federation receive Most Favored Nation status."

"And what about the DataTech?"

"They are our last ally in that geographical quadrant," said Lal. "If we lose the vote, then we must move to strengthen them."

"And if you win the vote? Surely the DataTech would cease to matter to Aquascante then."

Lal saw, with dismay, that his friend was serious about this.

"Well," he mused, "if we win, then I suppose we could press for repayment of your loan. However, some of it will be required to complete PowerClip and use it against the Hive."

"I'll tell you what - give me access to PowerClip myself, and we can adjust the terms of the repayment. Alongside disarmament of the DataTech, of course."

Lal fought the urge to grimace. Money for morals, that's what this conversation was boiling down to. "Of course, this is open to further discussion with time so pressing, but it's a possibility."

"Not good enough. Make it a probability, Commissioner. Get me time on PowerClip, and get my money back from the DataTech scum while you're at it. And finally there's the little matter of Fusion Power..."

"But Fusion Power is nearly ours! Your DataTech friends doing all that we can to secure it for you," said the Commissioner pointedly. "You cannot force something that will happen naturally."

"I'll tell you what will happen 'naturally'. If it comes down to 'natural' processes, I will find Fusion Power somewhere else. And I will find it from somebody who is willing to sell it to me, if you cannot deliver it."

"Patience, friend," soothed the Commissioner. "We will enjoy its benefits soon enough."

"We'd better, Lal. Because 'soon enough' is pretty damn soon, by my reckoning."

* ~ * ~ *

Channel 8, and a new face.

"We're in trouble, aren't we?"

"No," said Lal calmly. "We're merely dealing with a challenge. Nobody needs to worry, as long as we choose carefully."

"Vote for you, you mean."

Lal spread his hands. "We're no longer voting for anybody. That was before, when the choice was between two democrats. Now we're voting against the dictator. Can you imagine what would happen if the Hive take Council leadership? What would happen to democracy and the inalienable rights of man?"

"Well, I do know one thing for sure. I'm not lending the DataTech any more ships until we get the Hive's reactors working on our own. We ambushed another Hive patrol group and they outpaced us but good."

"Yes, and if the Hive become Council leaders, don't forget that they will have full access to your industrial output files and your FIP records." Lal waved a cautioning finger. "Your midnight ambushes will be that much more difficult if they're watching everything you do."

"They're probably doing that already," muttered the other.

"Well, now's your chance to stop it! This is the Hive's final tactic - to use our own Council against us. Deprive them this, and you kick away their last prop."

"Lal, this isn't related to the vote or anything, but do you think you could get my navy some time with the PowerClip Project?"

Lal's face hardly changed. "We'll see. I'll have to convince Roze, but we'll see."

* ~ * ~ *

Lal signed off and took a deep breath. It had been a hard round of talks, and he was ready for some rest. He had done his work, and with the exchanges of Aquascante and other faction leaders, he had secured a good voting base. Of course, nothing was set in stone, and allegiances were impossible to know for certain until the voting itself was finished, but Lal was satisfied thus far. Assuming all went to plan, he could accumulate enough votes to claw back some ground against the Hive - by present calculations, he currently had 378 votes, a mere 14 votes less than the Hive and a vast improvement on the situation since Yang's entrance into the voting.

But 14 votes was still 14 votes. And that was assuming Morgan consented to vote for him. Now, with the naked threat inherent in Morgan's last words, Lal was not so sure. There was no doubt about it, now - Morgan had received some offer from either the Hive or the University, offering to sell him Fusion Power. The only indication showing that he did not already have the technology was his current ambivalence. If Morgan was indeed bribed into abstention, then Lal would end up second by a very sizeable vote gap, and one that he would not be able to appeal.

Lal bit his nails in desperation. Who was there left to call? Only two factions remained - the University of Planet, and the Gaians. And Lal knew with white-hot certainty that the Provost would never consent to vote for him.

* ~ * ~ *

McClelland sat, silent, by the viewscreen as Lady Skye received the call. He had heard rumors that the Gaian viewscreen in the UNP headquarters was especially large, purely because the Lady's photogenic face was somewhat more popular amongst the UNP voters. He did not know whether to feel amused or exasperated by this.

Presently, the Lady was speaking to the Commissioner.

"Lady Skye," Lal was saying, "it appears that once more, the Council is depending on your vote."

"Once more?" asked Skye, with an arch of her eyebrow. "When was the other time?"

"Onboard the Unity. On the journey to Alpha Centauri. After the assassination of Garland." Lal smiled. "Do you remember? We were voting on the matter of separating the pods according to Unity officers."

"Yes, I remember." A pause, then she continued. "I voted against you, then."

Lal nodded. "And you had your reasons, as I had mine. But now I come to you during a time of equal crisis, and the consequences are equally severe. As you know, the Council has been shifted to a UN-Hive vote."

"And my candidacy rescinded, according to your UN Charter," said Skye pointedly.

"According to Yang's plans!" exclaimed the Commissioner. "He knows the Gaian vote to be a powerful one, and is relying on creating emnity between you and the Charter to secure his election."

"Is that so?" she murmured. "What do the other factions think about this?"

Lal hesitated. Only eighteen hours before, he would have been facing off against this woman, canvassing for votes against her faction. Now, with the sudden changes in Council's agenda, he had to create a friend in her. If not, all was lost.

"I fear the Morganites will not support me," he said at last in a low voice. There was an element of resignation in his speech that had not been there before. There was also an element of confession that the Lady found intriguing. "Morgan and I have our differences, and I fear that he will allow this to cloud the greater question - of protecting democracy and the Council's sanctity at all costs."

"And the other Aquascante members?" asked Skye.

Lal sighed, and spoke frankly. "The DataTech rely on our aid - they will vote for us for that much alone. The Spartans do not support us truly, but they know the dangers of a Hive ascendent. Svensgaard also sides with me, if only to oppose Yang."

"What about the University?"

"They don't matter," said Lal. "We are calculating that they will vote for Yang regardless. But even if we can convince them to abstain, the Hive vote alone is enough to defeat all the combined votes of Aquascante."

"Unless I vote for you," concluded Skye.

"Yes. That's the situation in a nutshell. Deirdre," said Lal suddenly, with real feeling in his voice. "The Gaians have always been a nation of no small wonder to the Council. We have admired your democratic policies, as well as the responsibility shown by your green economy. However, when the Hive take power in Council, do you feel that they will allow your Senate the freedom to continue in your ecological pursuits? How long will it be before they replace your Senate with a rubber stamp committee? How long before they reduce you to a mere figurehead? How long before your graceful groves and orchards are converted into the sparks and smoke of industrial parks? The final and crucial vote lies with you, Lady Skye, and unless you vote for me, I shall lose. But I am not appealing to your sense of our friendship in this case, milady. I am appealing to your love for your own people. Because once the Hive take power, they will seek ways to revoke your way of life, and remold your nation in their own image."

Deirdre glanced across the room at Prentice, and her few collected confidantes.

"We shall need time to decide upon this," she said. "This is a matter for the whole Senate to consider."

"Certainly," accord Lal. "But remember that our time is not unlimited. The Speaker expects a full report of the votes by noontime tomorrow."

After the signoff hails were acknowledged and the transmission cut, Skye looked around at her gathered Senators. Some of them - indeed, the majority - had voted not to condemn the Hiverian campaign, their outlooks swayed by the persuasive presentation put together by McClelland. They had been awed by the workings of the Hive faction, from the lowest worker to the highest official, and the vibrant culture beneath the surface diligence bespoke many centuries spent in cultivation.

The Hiverian language itself was utterly different from the Common tongue employed by the Council members. A tonal language, expressed in script through pictographic characters, the Hiverian tongue remained virtually unknown outside the Hive borders. Yet the number of people on the face of Planet who spoke this tongue, and no other, was staggering. From the calculations inherent in the vote totals, and taking the Hive's relatively tiny electoral college into account, this placed the Hive's true population at somewhere in the region of four to five times that of the Peacekeepers, Aquascante's most populous faction.

And the Common tongue spoken in Council was that of the UNP, a variation on an Earthside lingua franca known then as English.

They had not missed the Speaker's reprimand of the Hiverian delegation when the latter had attempted to speak in Hiverian. Now, the true scale of the misrepresentation was slowly making itself known to them - how many millions of Hiverian voices clamored, unheard, because no outsider would ever learn their language? How many intricacies of Hiverian culture would be ignored by the foreigner, dismissing the whole faction as a nation of malcontented slaves? How many facets of the Hiverian way of life had already been revoked as a matter of course by the UNP? All these questions were those that McClelland had asked of the Senate, and to which there was no easy reply.

And yet, the Commissioner had a point. The Hive was fascinating to a sympathetic-minded viewer, because of its otherness. Yet this same otherness, this alien nature, was also the strongest argument supporting caution and distrust. Lal had already formed his opinion of the Hive, and in no uncertain terms decided upon containment as the only solution. Deirdre was not sure what to decide yet. She was not certain that the Hive could be contained. Nor was she certain that the Commissioner was the best man to attempt it.

The daily reports from within the Hive were now over - McClelland was back home, and the UNP and Morganite news services formed the bulk of Gaian news intake. McClelland was struck by how stilted and contrived these reports now seemed. Earlier, he had read them as he had news of any other nation, and believed in them insofar as he had no better source. But now, with the actual experience of living in the Hive behind him, he was no longer so willing to accept their reports of doom and gloom. He found himself searching for inaccuracies in the reporting, and finally deducing that UNP and Morganite news services sported considerable lingual dexterity - they kept the actual facts more or less reliable, but had a master's grasp of manipulating the reader's response with special terms. The Hive was never a "large" faction, it was always a "hulking neighbor". The Chairman was never a faction leader, he was a "dictator" of a "police state". Whenever the UNP raised objections, they were "clear" and "articulate". Whenever the Hive did the same, they were "shrill" or "insistent". The UNP military strategists were much more likely to grow "concerned" about Hiverian "conquest" - the Hive, on the other hand, merely "bristled" at UNP "containment". Any speech given by Lal was "inspiring"; a similar speech given by Chairman Sheng was "chilling".

McClelland found one sentence in particular to be a perfect representation of what was actually going on. It concerned the SouthSea Isle downing of the Hiverian fighter jets, and it was published by UNINA, concerning the Hiverian reaction to the incident.

According to UNINA reporters, the state-run Hiverian news network began a concerted campaign of vilification against the UN and Aquascante factions, in an effort to whip up nationalistic frenzy at home.

McClelland's first reaction to that sentence had been doubled laughter. It had faded after a few hours, when more of the same filtered into the Gaian Senate through official levels. There was no satirical purpose behind the article - McClelland realized with a cold start that this was for real, realized for the first time to what depths the UNP news services had sunk.

And now, here was Lal, asking for their vote against the demon nation that Prentice knew perfectly well was no such thing.

"Prentice?" asked the Lady at last. "Would you care to cast your vote first?"

Last edited by Alinestra Covelia on 03-08-2002 at 10:58

	26-07-2002 14:11									#52
	Avatar Enlargement: We've got the solution

Endgame

Li Min leaned closer to the screen as the final decoder finished its work. There was a brief period of realignment, and then his screen displayed the entirety of the transmission.

"Gotcha," he muttered, "you cheeky little arse-pot."

His eyes flicking over the text, he picked out a few words and read that section thoroughly, ignoring the rest. His lips moved silently as his eyes widened, the mug slipping out of his hands and clattering on the floor.

"Damn," he said. "A military hijacking."

The message described Morgan's doubts as to the success of a DataTech-led attack against a Hiverian carrier group. However, the message had a series of replies, and Li Min hacked through them with a few minutes' work.

"Damn," he said. "It worked, too."

He sat back and read about the HCV Jian Guo Men, and the bravery of Pietr Hommel, and the three midair collisions off the SouthSea Island.

He hacked into a final message, and saw something that nearly stopped his heart.

"Damn," he concluded. "Fusion power."

The final message was sent by a prominent figure in the Peacekeeper government, who suggested to the DataTech that they keep the two Fusion reactors behind Sentry-8. The writer believed that the best sites for further research would be at the BayBand research station, although Ferretslair also provided adequate facilities.

Li Min raised his empty hand to his lips, wondering. Now it all made sense. The hacker wasn't trying to kill the DataJack Roze. The hacker was preparing an attack on...

Li Min sat up, nearly knocking over the computer screen in the process of realization.

The hacker! It was going to steal the Fusion drives! He had to do something now!

* ~ * ~ *

To all casual views, the two men on either side of their elder were not in any way related. They were both fairly tall and muscular, but apart from that similarity, they seemed archetypal bodyguards - strong and healthy.

The man in the middle, however, was neither strong nor healthy. His face was an ashen grey, and his hands trembled. It was with difficulty that he made his way across the floor of the moving carriages, and only with assistance from his two friends could he cross between the carriages themselves.

"Only one more to go," said Reinhardt, gripping Dritnam's shaking elbow securely.

Dritnam could only nod. His voice seemed to have finally abandoned him.

"Careful," warned Murath. "The tension is somewhat higher here."

They escorted Dritnam over the final of the carriage gaps and sat him down at the benches. Now, they were in the second to last carriage from the front, and sharing the carriage with about eight or nine others. Reinhardt gave Dritnam a dark cloth to wipe his face with.

"Here, get some shut-eye," he said. Murath placed his hands over his eyes.

Once the cloth was out of his hands, Reinhardt fished in his jacket pocket with an air of abstraction, then retrieved a flashpack, which he threw to the ground.

Drawing his silenced stun-pistol with his other hand, he stood up in the crowd of blinded passengers and methodically shot each one.

Reinhardt took up position near the engine room, and waited as Dritnam worked on the door. The fingerprint lock suddenly retracted, and Reinhardt stepped in with a projectile pistol and quickly cleared all the guards.

Potential distractions thus removed, Reinhardt strode out the doorway to the umbilical. A few minutes' work with the cutter, and the umbilical was broken. Reinhardt threw a grenade into the foremost carriage and the resulting explosion slowed the tail of the train.

Dritnam could, with effort, tap into the Consciousness for brief periods of time. He did so now, first working out where their train was exactly on the Sentry-8 map. Then, he hacked into control files that would shut off all mag acceleration units behind their current position. This caused the trailing sections to immediately fall further behind.

That separation done, Dritnam then focussed on an upcoming diversion. With reflexes honed by his Algorithmic rapport, Dritnam successfully gauged the splitsecond change required to divert the trailing train segments down a different path. The trailing train segments shunted off down an auxiliary track, headed off in the vague direction of Ergonomia, then were abandoned to their fate.

This would be important for getting back out. Once Reinhardt and Murath had finished escorting Dritnam, they were required by their mission to return to the Hive. This would be crucial for them - on their return journey, they would have to rely on the path that Dritnam had cleared prior to arrival. They would not be able to avail themselves of his quick hacking skills on the return trip.

Now, the magtrain was only two carriages long - Reinhardt's own, and the engine room.

This done, Dritnam set himself to the more difficult task of hacking the research laboratory magtrain platforms. He already knew that their targeted military train was still at the research lab, but he had yet to figure out which platform. It was imperative that he found out before word of this attack reached the research base, giving the DataTech a chance to relocate the targetal train.

Fortunately, Dritnam had jammed all external communications on the train. Although it was likely that the DataTech knew something was wrong, hopefully it would be a while yet before they understood its exact nature.

* ~ * ~ *

Li Min cursed the design of the hoverbike and willed it to go faster. He could make it as far as Ergonomia, and then from there he would board the magtrains and head out to... where?

This question had been bothering him for a while now. He knew that in better times, he would merely have had to report to his superior, or perhaps even just to the police force. Now, his superior was dead, and his superior's superior was gone to ground, and the police had suddenly turned into a green military force that grabbed people off the street on confused pretexts and cackhanded charges.

Wherever he could go, he certainly couldn't go to his superiors for help. And the only other man he trusted well enough for help was dead. That left only him to thwart whatever plot the Hiverians were up to.

Not for the first time, Li Min quelled a dissenting voice in the back of his head. A voice that said, with alarming insistence, "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

* ~ * ~ *

Joe, speeding from Ferretslair to Data DeCentral in an engine-carriage only, had on his own accomplished something very similar to what Dritnam had needed the help of two Hiverians to do. He smiled slightly at the irony - such a plot, carried out by the DataTech, had been responsible for starting the Hive's war on terrorism. Such a plot, carried out by himself, might just be able to stop the war.

He dove into the nets, savoring the pleasurable feeling of total immersion in pure data. He trawled through the train timetables again, noting intersections and track diversions, and performing them himself when necessary. As he did so, his physical self seemed to respond to the jerks and recoils of the reroutings and redirectings of the magtrain.

Within a very short time, Joe knew that he would not feel these sensations ever again. The thought stayed with him as he disconnected.

He was pulling into the Alpha-One military station under Sentry-8 now, just as he knew Dritnam would be doing back north, at BayBand.

* ~ * ~ *

Dritnam brought the train to a gentle halt, as Reinhardt and Murath ducked low. They were at the arrivals platform of the research lab now, and somewhere along the track would be the military train that contained their objective. Although fearsome in one-on-one combat, Reinhardt and Murath were no match in a head-on fight with soldiers.

As the military train rounded the corner and noted Dritnam's train blocking the path, a horn hooted and the sound of humming mag-brakes came. Dritnam concentrated on his hacking attempt, and Reinhardt peeked out, watching carefully. The train had stopped.

Soldiers came out of the military train now, to see what was wrong with this civilian transport. Automatic gun turrets turned to face the probes and the train. An officer disembarked from the engine room and crossed the platform to argue with the traffic controllers.

Dritnam kept his gaze level and firm, as the soldiers came up to the sides of the train in wonderment. They scrutinized the decoupled umbilical that had so recently shed its load. They peered in through the windows, trying to make head or tail of this bizarre sight - a bare train, abandoned save for one old man.

They were still staring like goldfish when the automatic gun turrets of the BayBand Underground Research Station activated and opened fire upon them.

The soldiers closest to the train got the worst of it, as they had nowhere to run. A few leapt off the platform, hoping to avoid the gunfire, but coming to worse ends on the charged railways below. The soldiers still onboard the armored military train initially took up defensive positions, then regrouped and peered out from the train to gauge the situation for themselves.

In the midst of the commotion, Reinhardt and Murath uncurled themselves from underneath the carriage windows, and made their way out via one of the ceiling panels. Thus separated from the primary target of the automatic gun emplacements, they leapt across the carriages and grappled their way on top of the military train. From there it was an easy task to drop their gas grenades down the magazines of the machine guns, running down the entire length of the train to do so.

Between the platform-based automatic turrets suddenly mowing down the soldiers outside of the train, and the incapacitating activants of the sleep gas canisters, there was little resistance that Reinhardt and Murath could not overcome. Dritnam's lengthy trawl through the military nets finally obtained control of the platform portals, and with a neat metallic hiss, the doors shut themselves and locked, delaying any would-be interferers.

Reinhardt and Murath did not have the sonic disruptors available to the DataTech probe team that had attacked Agent Hu in the University magtrains. What they did have were laser cutters, which they used to nearly as good effect in slicing out a circular patch from the engine cabin's ceiling.

Once they descended, it was the work of a few moments to kill every last unconscious soldier in the cabin, and control of the train was theirs.

"No good," came Dritnam's simulated netvoice over their intercom, strange and unfamiliar. "You'll have to do the whole train if you can. I think the targetal is in the caboose carriage."

Reinhardt and Murath considered this momentarily, then nodded and went to work. Unlike the DataTech when they assaulted Hu, all Reinhardt's opposition was out cold. This made them all the more easy to neutralize and destroy. Despite the pressing concern to finish before the effects of the gas wore off, Reinhardt knew the importance of killing each and every one before the train could be successfully hijacked. Murath aided with the first carriage, then, upon mutual agreement, he sped forwards to do a quick view of each carriage until he found the objective.

Sure enough, just as Dritnam said, the objective was in the rear carriage - a freight carriage with all internal walls removed for large cargo. The majority of the objective's fuselage, wings, tail, and nose cone had all been stripped away in the need to travel light, but there was no mistaking the Hiverian design of the remainder of the aircraft. There was also no mistaking the University design of the engines and reactor - although covered with a particle shield, there was no doubt that Murath was looking at one of the two aircraft stolen under Operation Garrett.

He quickly despatched all the guards in the area, and hurried back to Reinhardt.

"It's in the back," he confirmed. "What do we do now?"

Reinhardt considered the options. In any case, the military train would have to back out of the station, as the front was blocked by their own train. That meant that Dritnam would have to find a new path to the final objective. Meanwhile, they had to neutralize each soldier onboard for Dritnam to stand a chance - the man was an awesome hacker, but he was dying and it would not take much trauma to his physical remains for him to expire entirely.

Dritnam himself interrupted at this juncture.

"Here is what I propose. Bring me to the end carriage with the jet remains. Cut two carriages free from the rest of the train, and seal me in. Then make your way to the third carriage, and radio me there. I shall attempt to steer you free from the platform, and send you back along the exact route we came on."

"But won't the DataTech be waiting for us along that route?"

"There are seven carriages at this station, less three for me and you. The others I will send ahead of us, to clear the paths and block any junctions they could use to stop us. This will increase your chances of escape considerably."

"What about you?" asked Reinhardt.

"I have already downloaded the relevant information from the military nets, and I have a clear view of where I am to go now. Fortunately, the route is unchanged from before. I shall arrive at Ergonomia before long."

"And Joe?"

"Joe is about to complete his hijack of the military train holding Objective-2."

"Then we're all set. Good luck, Dritnam."

Dritnam's netvoice laughed, a full, hearty sound that had never passed his living lips. "Don't forget - there's no such thing as luck and chance. Not once you are part of the Zeta-5 Algorithm. Farewell."

"Farewell," said Reinhardt.

* ~ * ~ *

Li Min got onboard the magtrain to CliffView. It was a long shot, but CliffView was where the original planes had been brought, if the information from SMorgasBord networks was reliable (in itself a dubious assumption). In the absence of anywhere better to begin, CliffView might at least give up a few good leads.

He sat down and tried to think clearly, but such an endeavor only devolved back to the admission that he knew far too little for constructive deduction. All he knew was the stakes of the game he was playing - no rules, no players, and no prize.

Caught up in his reflections, he did not notice the military train, bristling with activated weaponry, passing in the overground landscape outside.

* ~ * ~ *

Joe stood up as his new armored train pulled into Data DeCentral. He had caught the headwave along with all the rest - the DataTech had mobilized forces to confront and contain him. Fortunately, the first few incidents had not fazed him: of the half-dozen or so prepared ambushes, Joe had managed to avoid three through last-minute track shifts, and had eliminated two by sending other empty carriages down ahead of time. Few roadblocks could stand up to a speeding carriage in the continual acceleration of the magtube.

This last confrontation did not look so rosy, however. The opposing forces had learned not to occupy the tracks themselves, instead mounting portable cannon on the railway platform. They had also analyzed the video footage of Joe's initial hijacking - they were taking no risks with hacked weaponry, switching off the wall-mounted machines and stripping them of their ammunition.

Joe slowed the train and checked his coordinates. The tube ran underneath the city of Data DeCentral - roughly below where the Alpha-One city sector was. Underneath the magtube itself lay the sprawling caverns and hollowed factories of Sentry-8. He had checked the tube activity, and confirmed that the area of highest activity was a nexus roughly corresponding to the southeastern sectors below DeCentral. Tubes had activated and queued enormous deliveries from all across the nation island, from points as distant as the mines of southern Ilonia and the energy grid of Achleon Batamat.

Thus, the position of Project PowerClip was directly beneath him. The flurry of activity was not constant, either - it had begun in a concentrated burst just a week before, and indications showed it to be slowing down. From this, a further deduction could be made - that the PowerClip operation was nearly finished, as deliveries started to slack and construction/assembly took top priority.

Joe sighed and disconnected from the net, sliding grudgingly back into his fleshly self. He had come as far as he needed to. He had hoped to be able to join the queue to the lower levels, and see the PowerClip structures with his own two eyes, but that was unrealistic wishing now. Maybe Dritnam would get to see, but for Joe at least this was the end of the line.

Megaphones were making announcements now, but Joe was already moving back through the train and could not spare his attention. All he caught, as he sped through the inter-carriage gaps, were snatches of dimly familiar injunctions.

"Stop where you are, fugitive... surrender or die... exit the vehicle with your hands empty and up in the air... this is a citizen's arrest..."

He made his way back to the caboose that housed the remnants of the fighter jet, and once there he activated the military train's own computerized defences. With the blatting of the train's machine turrets sounding around him, he continued his work, secure in the knowledge that the DataTech would not dare to fire upon the military train that held their prized Operation Garrett.

On the way in, when there had been time, he had squatted back here with tools in his hands, behind his ears, held in his teeth, as he'd hacked the shielding on the ruined fighter jet reactor. The shields had collapsed after a slight nudge from the Algorithm, as he'd hoped. But the most difficult part had been the alterations to the engine itself.

Despite his long relationship with the Zeta-5 Algorithm, Joe had been meticulous never to let his natural hacking skills go to waste. In the past few hours onboard the magtrain, he was rewarded for this tenacity. The Zeta-5 Algorithm could not help him in hacking the engine, and he had been forced to do so with simple mechanical tools. Otherwise he risked total destruction by the Hunter-Seeker Algorithm.

It was not the first time that Joe's life was complicated by Berzhinev's brainchild, but Joe had the comfort of knowing that it would likely be the last. In any case, he had set to work, first disarming the anti-tampering device from the engine, and then freezing the fuse with liquid oxygen before unceremoniously snapping it off with a blow from a microhammer.

Joe severed lines and bent back safety wires as he worked to strip all controls from the engine. Then, when that was finished, he placed an energy feed from the caboose itself into the auxiliary startup jack, and then removed all the power fuses.

The Fusion engine started up - a myriad of diodes activated along the DataTech analyzer, thoughtfully installed by some research scientist prior to Joe's arrival. He scanned the readouts, nodding to himself. They were in the green so far, but with all the power fuses removed, it would only be a matter of time before the energy cycles spiralled wildly out of control. He wondered lazily if anybody had done this before with a Balandin-Verniy Fusion drive. Probably not, he concluded.

He stood up, dusted his hands, and straightened his clothing before stepping out of the caboose. A mental order to the train, and the automated defences ceased their fire. Another order, and the train slowly advanced towards the platform, coming to a gentle stop as it drew flush with the platform.

Joe checked his appearance one final time in the bathroom mirror. This would probably be his very last act on Planet as a human being. It would not do to leave a bad impression.

Last edited by Alinestra Covelia on 27-07-2002 at 15:36

	27-07-2002 01:56									#53
	Enter the AD-FREE zone

Endgame

"How do matters stand, brother?" asked the Provost, placing a stone down.

"Difficult to be certain," said the Chairman. "I cannot secure Morgan's vote."

The Provost looked up sharply. "I thought you said he would block Lal in Council," he muttered.

"Block, yes. But actively vote against him?" Sheng spread a hand. "You must remember that Morgan has been a friend and ally to Lal for well-nigh five decades now, even if reluctantly so. He would not be so quick to turn his back on that sort of friendship." Sheng pondered his next move, then placed down his stone with a decisive action. "The best we can hope for is that he will abstain."

"Are you so sure?" asked the Provost.

"Not at all. But I do know that many factions were planning on quiet abstention anyway, prior to our arrival."

"That goes without saying," said the Provost. "Then, they were merely watching a competition in which they had no particular interest. Now, they're playing a different game - one which they stand to lose if they play badly."

The Chairman's eyes crinkled at the corners.

"What?" asked the Provost. "What thoughts are crossing... oh," he said, realization dawning. The Chairman was amused by the Provost's words because they could also apply to his present game of 3-dimensional wei qi. "Was I that easy to beat beforehand?"

The Chairman waved the question away noncommittally. "Your three-dimensional perception is superior to mine. I must take my previous tactics and strategies and carefully consider them each time I make a move, now."

"But about Council. What do you intend to do? If the vote rests with the Gaians, why not speak with them?"

Sheng shrugged. "Deirdre has declined to speak with me at this point."

"That's not good."

"So I intend to wait. After all, there is nothing else I can do. All that could be said has been said; to push matters any further would be to invite refusal."

The Provost sighed irritably. "I don't know how you can endure it. For a while, I was convinced that Lal and his vultures would find you guilty of some trumped-up charge or another."

"They did try. But I place faith in the structure of control - not even something as ad hoc as the Council can get away with flying in the face of facts. Fortunately, I had the materials to hand."

The Provost cackled. "That was something else I wanted to ask you about. How did you manage to obtain the video feeds and documents that you did?"

"Preparatory groundwork. Every possible angle of Lal's attack had been analyzed ahead of time, and potential materials gathered so that I would be able to refute it. I knew that Lal's ploy was to color the Council's opinion of me, such that they would be indisposed to look favorably on an appeal from my part. The clear solution was to make sure that I never needed to resort to such an appeal. As my Second Zhu will tell you, I was cloistered away in seclusion for a lengthy period of time during the DataTech's initial attacks. This time was spent gathering what files I had to counter the three charges levelled against me in the Commissioner's Ten Points."

"But the footage of Pria's body?"

The Chairman actually smiled at that - an intimidating downturn of the lips followed by a surprisingly kindly creasing of the eyes.

"The footage of Pria is nothing special. Think - hundreds of thousands of hours' worth of cryobay camera footage, with each and every occupant allotted their personal record, no matter how lowly. And the results spliced together and ejected from the Unity's failing hull in the supply pods. At some point in the past, my engineers located the footage and stored it. I did not even know we had it until I searched for it, knowing the chances of our possessing it were naturally quite good."

"How about the allegations? Where did you get the information for that?"

The Chairman stopped smiling. "Many of these were based on hearsay, prior to the completion of the Unity. Whilst on Earth, I made the acquaintance of a member of the staff selection committee and found out a few factual pieces of evidence. The rest of the allegations were picked up from Morgan's networks."

"Morgan?"

"Yes - it appears that he had amassed quite a dossier on the Commissioner, myself, and others prior to stowing himself onboard the Unity. The CEO is another man who does not like to do anything without definitive preparation beforehand."

"But the Commissioner's face!" reminisced the Provost happily. "Did you mark his distress?"

"Yes. Rest assured it was not unintentional."

"He looked like he was ready for meltdown, Chairman. It was quite an extreme personal attack. It was brutal. Ruthless, in fact."

"But it was effective, in its own crude way," stated the Chairman flatly. "I was on the verge of making numerous allegations against him that I suspected were beyond the Council's right to prosecute. It was important that I prevent him from using my own tactic against me to counter the allegations - to break his facade of impenetrability. Once that was achieved, the drama of his extreme reaction both served to raise doubt and estalish suspicion in the minds of the Council. Even though his crime was beyond the aegis of Council to try, his reaction already condemned him as distinctly guilty. In many ways, it forced his later confession."

"Poor girl," said the Provost. "Well, she may be gone, but I believe she has achieved a dubious form of immortality - in the Morganite news networks, at least. One of my agents said that 'Pria Lal' was now the most commonly submitted search criterion on the nodes. We even saw a Pria Lal Cryosleep mousepad for sale on one of the nodes."

The Chairman placed a piece down, matching a tendril of the Provost's own expansion.

"There is no quarter given or taken in this sort of fight, Provost. Lal was fully prepared to tear my reputation to shreds and leave me to be sentenced by general consensus. I had to make sure that my defence was strong enough to withstand his darts and volleys, and I had to deliver a blow hard enough to silence further such attacks from him. I am not ashamed that I succeeded."

The Provost made his move, seemingly nonchalant. "Just watch your back, Chairman. He'll get you for this, one way or another."

The Chairman shrugged. "I had always assumed that anyway. Now, we need to focus on three tasks at hand. The first - the pacification of the remaining Caretaker bases, and their peaceful transition under heavy guard to the Consciousness. The second, the looming completion of Operation PowerClip, and the progress we are making towards stopping it. And finally, the Council vote."

"Which you just said we cannot influence anyway."

"True," said the Chairman. "And the Harmonian campaign continues to our satisfaction - we have already succeeded in capturing Consonance Base and are presently rendering it fit for human habitation for Zeta-5's civilians."

"Which leaves only PowerClip to discuss."

"Yes."

The Provost made his move, then looked the Chairman in the eye.

"Is there anything left to say?"

* ~ * ~ *

Prentice caught one glimpse of her grey eyes, and his will forsook him. A rush of emotion seized him, so strong that his heart felt that it would stop before he could draw breath. He dropped his case on the floor and clasped her shoulders to him, as she buried her face in his neck. Her breath came in staccato, hysterical bursts, and as he felt moisture on his skin he knew that she was crying with relief.

"Prentice," she said. "Oh, Prentice! You were gone so long!"

He held her there, in the tiny doorway of their official residence, rocking her back and forth, his arms around her shoulders. His large hands stroking the smooth skin of her cheeks, her neck, her lips with surprising gentleness, as she wept herself into serenity.

Finally, she looked upwards at him, her eyes unusually clear, a slight rose tint to her nose and cheeks the only sign of her emotion.

"Come inside," she said quietly.

A while later, she turned to face him fearfully in the still air, eyes blinking in the glowlight.

"Prentice, did you see her?"

"Who?" he asked.

"The woman in the cell - the one that Pravin Lal brought onboard."

"Aye," he said. "Everybody saw her."

"You know, when I saw the look on Lal's face, I couldn't understand it."

Prentice stroked her hair as she rested her chin on his bare shoulder. "Understand what?"

"Why God would have taken her from him. He loved her so much, and you could tell from the way he spoke in Council. And I remembered when you were back in the Hive, when Skye told me the truth of what you'd been through." She closed her eyes for a long moment. "I thought-"

Prentice leaned down and silenced her lips with his own.

"I would have come back, daftae. You cannae stop a McClelland." But there was an abstraction to his words, as though something else she said was troubling him.

At his words, she snuggled closer. "Aye, that's true. Not even a Senate meeting."

Prentice smiled. There was at least that much. Skye had received his vote first, minutes after Lal had signed off. Then, she had ordered him to go home and get some rest - he didn't need any further stress on top of his trip to the Hive. He had protested, but she was adamant - in any case, she needed him by her side during the final vote count tomorrow. When he had flatly refused, she had revoked all his passes and stripped him for one night of his Senatorial rank. He had no other choice but to follow orders.

Prentice had gone to the ARBANT and conferred with the Empath Guild, but his passes were gone and he was unable to put in any overtime in stacking the electoral college. He had left a few pointers with the Sender (a practice highly questionable for a politician) but other than that, there was no other way he could help. Already, reports were coming in of the votes accumulated, and Prentice could do nothing to stop them. With a weary air of surrender, he had returned home.

And rediscovered Joely in the process.

Now, recovering from the fierce joy of his homecoming, his earlier concerns crept back. He continued patting his wife's arm distractedly, but his mind was on the results drawn by the Sender at the Empath Guild.

"What's wrong?" asked Joely.

"Work."

She snuggled into his shoulder, the tip of her nose cold against his warm skin. "Is it something you can tell your wife?"

"It's boring," he said.

"Is it about the elections?"

"Yes."

She nipped his shoulder with her teeth, correctly deducing that it was no emergency matter. "Stop stalling, Prent. Will you tell me what you're worried about!"

"Okay. You asked for it. I'm worried that the Hive can't pull through."

"The Hive!" Joely's surprised was unfeigned.

"Aye, the Hive. I know - you don't trust 'em. And to be fair, neither did I. That is, before I went there myself." Prentice's accent, thickening in the familiarity of his own home, pronounced the final word "massel'".

"So you hope they win against the Peace-artists?" she said, wonderingly.

Prentice sighed, shifting his head as he searched for a way to articulate his feelings.

"Not exactly. I keep hoping - almost - like nobody has to win."

"Aye. I know what you mean, Prent."

"I was going to vote when I knew what the Governor would do. But now I've seen what the Chairman is like, and what the Commissioner's like. And I don't know much of anything, now. It's like everything I've heard about Yang and his evil is wrong, just like everything I've heard about Lal and his goodness is wrong too."

Joely broke in. "Now, Prent, you know that can't be right. He's a decent man, down at heart. He may talk and bluster a lot, but he's canny good-hearted. Can you say the same about the Chairman?"

He started a war after an attempt on my life, he thought silently. But he just smiled lopsidedly at his wife. "Maybe it's just cause I'm patriotic. I keep wishing Skye were still in the running. She's a wise ruler, no mistake."

Joely's face smoothed out again. "Aye, that she is." She rolled back onto her back and watched the ceiling motes in the light of the glowlamp.

"But she's not running this time. And-" Prentice paused, then forced himself to say it, "-and I think Senate are going to vote for Lal. Not because they want to, but because they feel they have to, now that the question has been forced. The greatest pity is that so many vote because they feel we can't trust a nation we don't know. Well, I know that nation! If I could just get some time on Arbant!"

He rolled onto his back and stared steadily at the glowlamp until spots danced in his vision.

"But," he said, "there's no chance of that working, even if I could. You can't force cultural familiarity overnight. You can't undo decades of misinformation and misrepresentation with a spell of Senate talks. All you can do is tell it like it is, and hope that people are willing to listen. And maybe, after a while, they'll believe you, not just hear you."

Joely watched the set of his jaw, his terrible frustration evident. She sidled closer to kiss his cheek, and held her body against his through the blankets. "You'll succeed someday," she said. "There's nae stoppin' a McClelland."

Prentice smiled at these words, but his grimace returned quickly. "It's hopeless. Tomorrow, if the Gaians vote for Lal, he'll win the election, regardless of what the Hive does. And once he's made king of the hill, he'll see to it that the Hive are even more vilified than before." A glimmer appeared at the corner of his eye and threatened to fall. "And my journey to Hiveria will be forgotten."

Joely said nothing, merely hugged her husband. She knew that he was tired, and his mind needed rest after these weeks of concentration. Planting a gentle kiss on his cheek, she reached up to the glowlamp with her free arm, and switched it off.

* ~ * ~ *

The Second checked his palmtop and received the latest priority report. Since Agent Hu's death, Berzhinev had directly linked incoming transmissions to an encoded node that the top echelons of the Intelligence Bureau could all view at their leisure. This included Zhu and the Chairman himself. Knowing that the Gaian leader requested solitude for her decision making, Sheng observed a respectful silence on their comm frequencies and had ordered his subordinates to do likewise.

Nothing stopped Zhu from making ample use of probe information, however.

He watched as Agent Hu's source relayed a video feed and an audio clip to his palmtop. The video he set aside - he wished to conserve bandwidth, and views through glowlamp bugs were quite distorted and awkward - but the audio contained some human speech. The Second forwarded to the first break in the speech, and played the recording back.

He listened with special interest to the latter portion of the conversation. He rewinded and played back once, when the accents were too strong for him to easily decipher. This done, he nodded once curtly, and forwarded the audio onwards to the Chairman, emphasizing a portion.

If this were true, he wondered what the Chairman would do about it. Things did not look good.

* ~ * ~ *

	27-07-2002 06:00									#54
	Support Apolyton or Terrorists Win

Endgame

The Council chamber was bright and airy, but there was no disguising the underlying atmosphere of tension. That was not the only thing underlying the proceedings - there was also a general sense of exhaustion.

The Speaker was unusually alert, possibly through nerves, although perhaps this was merely through the prospect of stepping down from Speakerhood sometime soon. He announced the rules of the final vote with clarity and volume, despite the assured fact that almost all the nations knew them anyway.

"The preliminary voting round has been concluded," he said, "and the votes are known to all. We now progress to the second and final round. In view of the factional preliminary votes, we invite each candidate faction leader to present their election speech. After a round of open factional questions, we will open the issue to the floor. That concluded, we proceed onto the final vote, and the determination of our first Planetary Governor.

"The first candidate to speak, as determined by our random selection, is the UNP Commissioner, Pravin Lal."

Lal took the podium in a burst of applause.

"Citizens of Planet, I came here to support the Charter. Under this bastion of Earthside strength and unity, I brought my case before you. As Commissioner of the United Nations, it was my task to bring the Charter and its auspices to each and every one of our factions, never to rest until this was achieved."

Lal looked around in a slow arc.

"No more need I strive for this goal," he said. "For, now I see before me the united Council, every leader here - every leader listening - every leader speaking their minds. Sometimes our issues have been grave, sometimes they have been alarming, but they have at least been discussed. That in itself is our greatest accomplishment today - that every leader can now hope to solve their problems through dialogue."

Lal turned a page and continued, adjusting his spectacles.

"The Charter may be fulfilled, but it is not unchanging. It is a code of laws and a pillar of our rights, but that does not make it a straitjacket. We have already witnessed the adaptability of the Charter, when circumstances require its amendments. We have already seen its strength through unity - drawing the talents of many, into one.

"But my task today is not to laud the Charter to you. Today, we face a growing crisis in the spread of famine, and the increase of disease, as well as threats we do not yet fully understand from the Planet itself. We must, for the good of all humanity, set aside our differences and join our strength, so that united, we may strive to improve the lot of every citizen of this world.

"But natural crises are only half of the problems we face today. The age-old man-made miseries which have plagued use since time immemorial are still with us - war, terrorism, conquest. The wilful destruction of the neighbor, the purposeful seizure of lands and possessions. Friends, we cannot allow humanity to resort to such self-destructive means to determine our collected fate. Only through mutual discussion, and understanding, can we hope to work in harmony as nations. And only through universal education, and universal political representation, can we assure an efficient and fair government.

"I do not pretend to perfection. I too have my flaws, my shortcomings, my weaknesses. But our strength arises when we can work together, and instead of searching for the flaws of the other to exploit, we present our united strengths for the benefit of ourselves and our friendship. The beauty of democracy is that voters have profound power to regulate their government and leaders. Thus, the potential weaknesses of a leadership can be reinforced by the strengths of the people. Any leadership which begins by depriving its people of this right to regulate their government is no true leadership, as it has no recourse to present the strengths of the people in place of its own weaknesses.

"Citizens of the Council, I do not believe it is necessary for me to belabor the point with regards to my fellow candidate. I merely ask you to consider the work that the UNP has done, and the spirit in which it was carried out, for the good of your factions' individual people. We are not perfect - as with all governments, we are a work in progress - but we have undertaken this work with the rights of the individual at heart, and the further our work progresses, the more the life of the individual improves."

Lal fixed the Chairman's face with a sharp gaze that everybody noted.

"Before you cast your votes, I ask that you give careful thought to the available alternatives. Then I would ask if there are any alternatives at all to democracy, and to the inalienable rights of man."

Lal sat down to roaring UNP applause, so sustained that the Speaker could not quell it. There were a few worried glances between the Second and the Hiverian High Command, and the Provost shook his head with a resigned air, but the Chairman's own face betrayed nothing, save a calm aloofness.

* ~ * ~ *

Li Min proceeded carefully. He had disembarked at CliffView and headed down to the Prospect - a vaguely popular tourist area. From there, he had expected there to be some intense guard resistance, but there was none - merely an automated lock that he had hacked and allowed himself access to the outer perimeter.

From there, he had expected to be challenged, but there was nobody present to do so. A siren was wailing softly in the distance, and as Li Min gradually became aware of what it actually was, he put urgency into his steps.

Perhaps they were here!

One look from the auxiliary launch pad told him something was wrong - the cliff-face launch bays were open, and through their broad gape, he could see there was some furore erupting amongst the ground crew.

Approaching with extreme caution, Li Min took out a scope and zoomed in. There appeared to be some trouble with the automated defence systems - DataTech were falling to their own guns. Interesting.

He would have to approach from the lower decks, where the fighting had not yet spread. He would have to do it carefully, too - his own soldiers had every right to shoot him on sight. And something told him that his soldiers hadn't let rights dictate their might for a long time.

* ~ * ~ *

"People of Council," began the Chairman at last, "I came here to clear my name of the charges levelled against me. I am aware that outside nations have received incorrect or skewed impressions of my faction, and it was my original intention to dispel these. However, there are certain false impressions that are instinctive, others that are mistakenly deduced, and finally yet others that are purposeful misrepresentations, with far-ranging agendas.

"I have discharged my initial duty, and I believe that this Council Tribunal now absolves me of guilt in the accusations levelled against me by the Commissioner. However, a further duty now falls to me, concerning the election called by the Commissioner. It has come to my notice that my sudden attendance has displaced a previous candidate, and polarized the voting where no previous such split was evident. As such, I find myself in an awkward situation, faced with only one viable choice open to me. But first, I offer my reasons."

The Chairman considered for a few seconds, before continuing.

"The Commissioner spoke of the strengths of democracy, of the power held by the voters, but he failed to mention a vital point. Democracy only works through the institute of education and information. Without a clear understanding of the true situation, the ignorance of a voting populace is equally as dangerous as that of a leader. If a flaw exists in the chain of information from source to the public, then the public understanding is called into question. And when a leader actively strives to manipulate or twist the information available to the public, then the fundamental roots of democracy are threatened."

The Chairman gestured to the Gaian envoys. "Gaian Prentice McClelland spent two weeks within our borders, and we were honored to host his visit. Here is a man who disregarded what the news nodes told him to believe, and who came to witness with his own eyes. And those of you who have read his report will encounter the same observation, several times - that McClelland's own free press perpetuates glaring inaccuracies concerning our faction.

"The democracy you hold so sacrosanct has already fallen into the hands of those who dream of wielding power absolutely. Minor adjustments to the information you receive will allow your wishes to coincide with theirs. Thus they do indeed rule with your interests at heart, after having dictated to you what your interests shall be. In the event that the rules and regulations placed to check their power displease them, they show no aversion to bending or breaking them entirely, provided that it suits their purposes, and that it can be disguised as a dubious strength through 'adaptability' or 'amendment'.

"My internal policies are not democratic. I have never claimed otherwise. My faction operates on a basis of individual merit and state reward, and adherence to a code of beliefs that many may find disturbing. The good Commissioner has already mentioned our faction's lack of a family unit - if such a differentiation seems so distasteful and shocking to your eyes, then I acknowledge that the Hiverian way of life would be most unsuited to you."

The Chairman's gaze wandered from face to face. "But therein lies the major difference between myself and the Commissioner. He speaks of the inalienable rights of individuals, and to a certain extent he genuinely acts to defend them. But he does not respect the rights of the greater unit - the group, the community, the culture. He is a man who would grasp at any excuse, point a finger at any single threat, to coerce and persuade you to give up your ways of life for his. He is a man who has found a social structure to which he clings religiously for support, and without which he cannot imagine any form of legitimate social existence. He is a man who has declared war on my faction for our reprisals against terrorism, who has condemned my faction for crimes of humanity against non-humans, who has laid at my feet accusations of crimes that I have not committed and for which this court rules I cannot be held guilty. He is a man who preaches rights for men from all social codes, but allows freedom for none save his own. He is a man who funds terrorists and supports the use of Charter banned technology 'when circumstances dictate', but selectively condemns my recourse to police action in those same circumstances. He is a man who sentenced a medic to death on Earth in order to save his wife, but who cannot countenance the taking of a life in self-defence. From these actions, I was forced to ask myself a question: are these the convictions of a man who follows a strong and salient moral code? Are these the workings of a social order that endures with true consistency through all trials? Or are these merely the confused assertions of a bad actor, playing a mendacious part in an empty melodrama?"

The Chairman's eyes were set in hard anger, his brows were raised as he spoke.

"People of the Council, I do not pretend that my ways are suitable for all. It does indeed require a unique philosophical view, which must be taught from childhood, to live comfortably within the Hive faction. It requires a lifetime of self-discipline, a willingness to self-critique, and in certain cases, a degree of self-denial in order to derive the most joy from life as we live it. If there are those from outside with an interest in our way of life, then I welcome them most warmly to observe and to comment. But I do not presume to force them to my lifestyle through conquest, or through obligation, or through popular duress disguised as popular will. In this way I differ fundamentally from the Commissioner, who aggressively pursues support for his Council meetings, and who now pursues a policy of containing my faction through conversion of the DataTech and Aquascante members - indeed, anybody who will listen to his sound and fury."

The Chairman's voice rose in volume as he concluded.

"In short, fellow members of the Council, I find myself a voting member of an election where the only choice proceeds on the basis of containment voting - to cast your lot with the lesser of the two perceived evils. I have no intention of adding my word to legitimize these proceedings, and I will not allow any other leader to use my presence as a convenient tool for coercion or leverage. I will not take part in a process that aims to strip faction leaders of their right to govern, under the pretended auspices of democracy - a process that serves to increase the power of the Governing faction, under the pretence of equality and egalitarianism. Good people of Council, I have thought long and hard before casting my vote - be sure that you do the same yourselves. Do not deprive your people of their rulership for a misguided and futile containment vote. Do not cast your vote and surrender your faction to a defunct and manipulated Charter. And most of all, do not surrender your rule to a corrupt and opportunistic nepotist, masquerading as democracy's last bastion against my so-called dictatorship."

The Chairman paused, giving the Commissioner Lal a piercing look as he finished.

"This is the first time I have attended Council. I admit that perhaps my expectations were too high. But, in the light of the developments of the previous agenda, and the outcome of the token accusations levelled against myself, I have decided that I want no part of this Council hypocrisy. I merely ask that other leaders consider the merit of my actions in full, before committing themselves.

"Thus, I regret to announce that I shall be abstaining altogether from the vote for Planetary Governor. Thank you for your attention."

The words were accompanied by a collective rising shout of alarm. The reaction to his words went beyond mere surprise - everywhere one looked, delegates were arguing, discussing, denying, asserting. The Speaker stood up and was striking his gavel, but the tumult of the crowds was beyond control. The Gaians now found themselves the object of interest from Morganite, Spartan, and even some Pirate scrutiny, while McClelland was trying to split his attention between his leader Skye's questions and those of the other faction representatives.

Lal stood up and tried to calm the floor, but his voice went unheard in the cacophony. Spartanite emissaries crossed the gap between tables and held heated debates with the Morganites - some veering off to join the crowd clamoring for McClelland. The few remaining DataTech crossed to the Peacekeepers' section and were shouting loudly about some sort of terrorist attempt right now, but they were ignored by the UNP reps, to whom it had just occurred to ask the Speaker about whether a Governor candidate was allowed to abstain from voting for himself (and whether it was possible to put him on trial if it turned out that it wasn't).

The Speaker, already unnerved by the startling sea of shouts and inquiries, was in no mood to answer. He was instead attempting futilely to make an announcement over the din, grabbing the intercom and turning the volume all the way up to make himself heard. His final words as the Speaker were thus unwittingly broadcast loud and clear across the radio waves of many household sets, previously turned down by owners wishing to reduce the hubbub and commotion of the Extraordinary Meeting of Council at work.

"...to announce that...- O just go away will you? -...there will be an hour's recess...- no, I can't talk now, can't you just wait a bit?... -recess, and then the final vote, okay? Can everybody hear me? *tap* *tap* Recess for one hour, and then...- augh, let go of my thigh... damn you... -then the final vote. All right, come here you arsing sodbucket..."

There was no doubt that it was a suitably shining end to a sparkling career.

Last edited by Alinestra Covelia on 27-07-2002 at 15:50

	27-07-2002 06:12									#55
	Help yourself to an AD-FREE life

Endgame

Dritnam clung to the doorframe for balance as the train lurched again, gunfire splitting the sounds of thrashing winds. He tried not to think of the speeding magtube around him, the lethal floor thundering past, mere centimeters away from his hands as he worked to disengage the carriage.

The DataTech had sent an armored train on behind to board his, and his combined wiles of shutting and opening the train relays after he passed them had worked - up to a point. Perhaps Joe had already tried this trick, or perhaps the DataTech were more intelligent than he gave them credit for being, but they had astutely separated their military train beforehand, such that only individual carriages could be misdirected this way.

Dritnam had been unable to shake the final carriage as it thundered down the tube, and harpooned onto his own with a sickening scrape. Hence, the blowtorch and the coupling.

Had he been able to speak, he would have cursed. But the feeble muscles of his voicebox were already far too weak to influence the breath that rasped through his windpipe - a useless, vestigial ability, and one that was minuscule in comparison to the mellifluous netvoice of his cybernetic alter-ego.

The coupling finally gave way, and he sighed a sigh of relief, then nearly fell bodily off the train as his caboose lurched forwards. That was the deceptive thing about magtrains, he reflected. You didn't really need an engine onboard them, as the magtube itself was what provided the velocity. Luckily, it also meant that he didn't need any part of the train except the caboose, which at this point in time housed the bristling wreckage of a Hive needlejet and several DataTech corpses of varying degrees of stillness.

Gripping the doorframe, he voiced a final injunction over the net to the carriage to engage its brakes, and then shut the door behind him before the sparks started flying. On the rogue carriage, he knew DataTech guards would be clambering wildly, struggling to get to a caboose that was pulling ever further away from them.

He left them behind and sent his mind's eye ahead, to look for the next trackblock. He sensed two routes being occupied by civilian trains, and a third with a military train closing on his position. With a momentary glitch, as his established hack overcame the internal defences, he was into the system, and gliding along the tracks, jumping across relays, and finally nestling into a track-switch that would divert the military train harmlessly of his path, and into that of one of the civilian trains.

This was childishly easy, he thought, as he slipped back into realtime.

His flesh body was weakening rapidly - a good thing that Murath's younger and nimbler fingers had already primed the Fusion drive. All Dritnam needed to do would be to remove the power fuses at the right time, and the mission would be complete, one way or another.

Of course, actually getting to the objective targetal was the hard part, but so far nothing too challenging was presenting itself. Dritnam sensed another anvil forming ahead, and slewed off two approaching blockers with a maliciously intricate track-switch.

As he passed the helpless army vehicles, he noticed that there were quite a few more of them than before. They must have caught on to what he was doing. Either that, or Operation PowerClip happened to delegate military manpower to its cause - quite a likely proposition, given its nature.

He focussed ahead and saw that the descent-spiral tube into PowerClip was blocked. Not, this time, with an approaching vehicle, but with still vehicles, moving at a snail's pace. As his own caboose dodged between tracks and meandered through terminals, he realized suddenly that it would be impossible for him to physically enter PowerClip. The entrance was blocked by a traffic jam - something mere brute force would not shift.

Dritnam wondered what he should do. Certainly, he was nearly at the mass of rails that were directly above the Ergonomia PowerClip terminal. He supposed that it would be possible to stop the train a few levels up and engage, with satisfactory results. Joe would probably have done something similar.

Dritnam was still wondering, when the walls of the magtube network suddenly became translucent, and his mute mouth fell open in wonder. He hauled himself off the chair and staggered over to the window to see the sight.

As his mind regained itself, he hailed Joe one last time, to share with him the sprawling splendor.

* ~ * ~ *

"Raise your hands and step away from the vehicle door!" shouted the squad leader, an anonymously aggressive man sporting a buzzcut and a visor. His gloved hands held a scoped automatic rifle, the butt squeezed into the armored chestpad.

Joe stepped away from the vehicle door, his shoes echoing on the polytarmac of the station platform. He did not raise his hands. The soldiers looked at each other behind their shields and visors, perplexed.

"I said 'raise your hands'!" shouted the leader again. "If you do not acquiesce, you will be fired upon."

My goodness, thought Joe sardonically, he knows the word 'acquiesce'. He smiled contemptuously and reached into his pocket smoothly. Rifle barrels followed his hand. Maintaining the smirk, he drew a 33ZhF pistol from his pocket and raised it upwards, towards the ceiling. Gunfire burst from the lead soldier's rifle, perilously close to Joe's head, dislodging a few specks of synthecrete.

"I'm warning you!" screamed the leader shrilly. "Drop the weapon or we'll drop you!"

Joe shook his head in disbelief and swung the gun down quickly to point at his own temple.

"I..." said the squad leader. "You..."

Joe smiled and stuck the gun barrel firmly between his own lips with malicious humor.

"...!" said the squad leader. Behind him, the assembled soldiers shifted from foot to foot in uncertainty. What could you threaten to do to a terrorist who was already threatening to shoot himself in the head? The squad leader's own grip on his gun was wavering - beside him, the youngest recruit was positively shaking with nerves.

Joe found himself smiling manically, despite the situation. He had about a minute left, by his calculation. The Hiverian secret service had trained him to prepare for many possible death scenarios, but he had never imagined that anyone, let alone himself, would die entertaining a shooting squad with a comedy skit. He wondered how long he could hold himself hostage for before they lost their patience and shot him instead. The thought was so comic that he started laughing and nearly broke a tooth on the 33ZhF barrel.

The guards were circling around now, sending a few recruits flanking around in furtive, dishonest movements. Joe almost pitied them. As if a single man with a gun down his throat posed any problem! Joe reckoned he had thirty seconds left. That should be enough.

He took the gun out of his mouth, and his hand fell down by his side. The guards all froze at this development. Once again, all rifles tightened their aim on his chest.

Suddenly disgusted with the act, Joe decided it was time to stop. He pointed the pistol deliberately at the ground near his left foot, and pulled the trigger firmly twice.

Two loud, empty clicks filled the tense air.

The soldiers wavered.

Joe did it again for good measure. Click, click. Look - no bullets.

The soldiers positively trembled.

Joe huffed and raised the gun to eye level, aiming directly at the head of the leader, and then as if by instinct, there was a bright light in his mind's eye, as if he was in a magtrain speeding on a magtube high above the clouds. He was standing, hands pressed against the cool glass of the window, looking out through the transparent walls of the magtube, realizing suddenly that he was not flying - he was underground. Looking out across a vast, subterranean city, of distant towers and stacks and pipes that stretched along hewn cavern walls for miles and miles into the velvet darkness - shielding his eyes against the constellation of blinding bright lights that led a trail off into the darkness, the furthest ones many miles away, winking like distant, cold stars.

He saw flashing lights as construction teams lowered components of a mighty project into place, pieces of machinery and industrial plants swirling on towcables from construction choppers, like pendulous blocks suspended by spider silk from the legs of dragonflies. He saw trains on distant lines, halted and with their precious cargoes open to the silver werelight, insectlike aerotugs flitting over them and extracting with meticulous care their gifts, gleaned from all across the Iphiclian continent.

He watched as his magtube circled round, and the uninhabited city below slowly rotated in his field of vision. He saw the net of rails and tubes that led in spiralling circles down to the depths of the colossal excavation - the innumerable buildings that would soon process and hone and perfect the human frame of flesh and bone to the toughness of burnished steel. He heard, by gradual increments, Dritnam's concerned but awestruck voice, asking the same question over and over again - Zhou! Zhou, is this it? Is this it, Zhou? Am I there yet? Is this it? - and Joe found himself screaming a yell of triumph and fulfilment.

Yes! he called, not caring whether his friend could hear him or not. Yes, this is it! We're here! We did it, buddy! This is it! My God - this is it!!! At his words, Dritnam scrambled back to the equipment, gnarled fingers working with a new, final injection of life.

And then the twinkling of the stars grew brighter, and the sound of distant thunder filled the air. Joe felt the sky open and the winds tear at his clothes, thrashing his limbs. He could feel the piercing beauty of the stars as they consumed his pitiful immortal body, felt the calm reassurance of the earth as it rose to meet his carcass, falling away like a bag of refuse - broken, battered, and finally discarded.

A passing sensation of pity took him, and he returned momentarily to look out upon the world one last time through eyes of vessels and flesh and vitreous humor. Then he saw the stars shrink to the petty bursts of gunfire, the thunder resolve into the barking reports of discharged cartridges, the winds become the stinging bullets themselves as they pounded his poor abused body. There was a growing fire in his chest and arms, where the DataTech concentrated most of their fire. With a loud internal crack, he felt a bullet shatter his jaw, and the world exploded calmly into colors and redness. It was difficult to stay upright - Joe suspected they had severed his spine at some point - but suddenly he remembered that there were only a few seconds left. He had to stay upright until the mission was over, at least.

Only a few seconds left, fading away into nothingness, as the last few grains of his life and the mission expired. With a sigh that almost sounded disappointed, Joe's legs collapsed beneath the meat that was his body, and he fell backwards into the sudden roaring hot whiteness.

Happily, he was never to touch the ground. The train, the rail, the platform, the ground itself - everything was gone, annihilated in a flash of raging light exactly as hot as the center of the suns.

Last edited by Alinestra Covelia on 31-07-2002 at 08:34

	27-07-2002 18:59									#56
	Support Apolyton, buy Alpha Centauri

Endgame

Reilly News Ticker Service

Hive abstains from planetary vote, Lal governor candidacy unopposed. Election results uncertain.


Hermes Messenger Reel

Hive boycotts Council, triggers Senate appeal. Deirdre 2nd run mooted.


Encoding Unicorn: Speaker to Sarita

Present conditions unprecedented. Hive withdrawal legal. Gaian candidate reentry also legal. Please advise.


Encoding Odalisk: Sarita to Speaker

Candidacy confirmed - Yang/Lal. Gaian reentry to be blocked at all costs.


Encoding Unicorn: Speaker to Deirdre

Condolences; candidacy opening closed. Please cast vote from amongst available candidates.


Seraph-7 Transmission DKGRY531

Received unsourced reports of terrorist attacks at DeCentral and Ergonomia. Please confirm immediately, send cc to DJ.


Cherub-12 Transmission DJROZ351

View appended message, sent from source Angel-8 LIMIN448
Time: 00.83hrs, this morning.

> Research laboratories at BayBand, Ferretslair raided by
> unknown persons between 17.44 and 00.72 - Fusion jets
> hijacked by terrorists. Destination unknown.

View appended message, sent from same source:
Time: 01.14hurs, this morning.

> Have traced Hiverian probe teams to CliffView airbase.
> Uncertain their involvement, if any, in plane hijackings.

View appended message, sent from source Throne-FUSIL14
Time: 01.29hrs, this morning

> hi im ded!!! how r u???
> her s wat wr goin 2 du!!!
> taek tu playnz - hyve will du -
> taek tu traynz n sen dem thru!!!
> fushin enjins!!!111!!!! flik da switch!!!
> cloes ur Iz an maek a wish...!!!
> chek ur maps and plan ur trip
> BOOMBOOM!!!! byebye powerclip!!!!

Note that Throne-FUSIL14 was assassinated two weeks ago.

I'm waiting for an explanation, Grysel.


553N2-99/nc3: Priority transmission

As agreed, the PowerClip project has been derailed. We have also destroyed the two Hiverian fighter jets held by the DataTech. Do not forget that one final jet remains on SouthSea Isle. We suggest you take steps to secure or destroy this jet, if you have not already done so.

Yours,

The Janitors

Transmissions end

* ~ * ~ *

"Are you sure you've done the right thing?" asked the Provost uncertainly.

"Yes."

"The Commissioner will win the vote, you know."

The Chairman's only answer was a dismissive wave. They continued their game in silence, as the moments between them flew away into history. The Provost was the first to break the silence.

"What made you choose to do what you did?" he asked.

"I had no other choice," responded the Chairman. A few more moves passed between them before the Chairman sighed and elaborated. "Morgan would abstain, or he would not. That was beyond my control and irrelevant. The end result was that I could not win without Deirdre's support. And from the final probe reports within Gaian territory, it appeared overwhelmingly clear to me that she would not move to support me. Furthermore, it appeared that she could not afford to abstain, either, as that would lead directly to my election."

"So you knew that she would vote for Lal?"

"Not of her own volition, but through the situation that Lal created for her. All that I said in Council today was true, Provost. Lal had worked to bring about a confrontation between the two of us. He then played the angle that I was a powerful threat, but one which could be neutralized by a unified opposition. This tactic worked, as you can see - the majority of factions who were otherwise unconcerned with the election suddenly felt morally or politically compelled to oppose me."

"So what did you abstention achieve?"

"Abstention was the only choice left to me. It removed me from the election, and therefore eliminated Lal's greatest weapon - that of using me as the universal chimera against whom all Council could grudgingly unite."

The Provost pondered this for a while, but his unease remained. "But now the Peacekeepers are unopposed in Council. What's to stop them from winning the election?"

"Nothing," said Sheng simply. "Provost, do not forget your formidable skills as a chess player. Apply them to this situation. When you view an upcoming conflict, ask yourself the following questions: firstly, can the battle be won? In this case, yes - we could have won this election, through insisting on meeting with Deirdre Skye, through offering massive bribes to faction leaders at the last minute, though seeding the Gaian Senate and other factions with our infiltrators. This tactic could potentially have altered the entire Gaian vote, and brought us to the Governor post.

"But ask the second question, and the answer is different: should the battle be won? Could we afford to win the battle? The answer here is less certain - seeding a rival faction with probes can accomplish short-term gains, but it is bound to hurt trust. The very act of probing is automatically damaging to one's reputation, and given that I was in Council defending the reputation of my entire faction, I discounted this method as counterproductive. Here, the risks inherent in the process outweighed the potential gain."

The Provost grunted. "Certainly, Commissioner Lal would dearly love for you to attempt such a method. He was after your blood."

"So far we have discussed reasons against winning this particular battle. Now, we apply our reasoning to acceptable methods of losing it. We ask can the battle be lost? In other words, how damaging would this defeat be to us? Well, consider what our enemy Lal has to gain if we let him win. Lal will enjoy infiltrator knowledge concerning each faction through FIP - this is quite a damaging blow, but fortunately the Hive submitted only a partial FIP profile through McClelland. Secondly, Lal will enjoy an executive veto in Council - dangerous only if there is a Council proposal which we hope to contest. Thirdly, Lal's own commerce ratings will increase, allowing him greater trade privileges."

The Chairman set down a piece and ruminated awhile before continuing. "But none of these gains are permanent, and none of these gains are absolute. They are only relative, and they are far from immune to external events. Most importantly, they come with their own set of responsibilities and regulations. And, if we are astute enough, these can be forged into shackles that the Commissioner must wear for the next ten years.

"Consider infiltration. The Commissioner will now be unable to feign ignorance of such future construction projects such as PowerClip, even by allies and friends. Thus, he will be required to change the statutes of the Charter, or be forced to address the situation directly. Either way, the UNP's way of life will come into direct contradiction with those of its neighbors. This will create friction. If we are shrewd enough, this can be harnessed to our own gain - all the more so since the Hiverian industrial structure is still hidden from Lal... and the LineLock Algorithm will see to it that it remains so.

"Secondly, consider the paper benefits of commerce. Lal has borrowed heavily from the Aquascante factions in order to prop up the failing DataTech faction - both in credits, as well in favors and materiel. The commerce increase, though undoubtedly a help to the UNP, will hardly be their proprietary windfall. At least the other Aquascante factions will move to claim a piece of this for themselves, whether through direct trade, or repayment of loans, or in the case of the DataTech, further loans to rebuild their infrastructure. Again, the benefits being spread thin among multiple beneficiaries, we can act to sap and drain their effectiveness - especially where the DataTech are concerned.

"Finally, most importantly - if the Commissioner wins this election, he assumes responsibility to improve the lot of his allies and treaty members. He must also bring about convincing results within ten years. This is a daunting enough prospect for a leader unfamiliar with the intricate workings of his pledged factions. In a time when he plans to embark on expensive and dubious wars overseas with powerful enemies, it will take a minor miracle for him to succeed. And if we are sharp enough to exploit his weaknesses, to counter his advances, and to take every opportunity to bring his leadership skills into doubt, it will be well-nigh impossible."

The Chairman and Provost exchanged moves for a while before either spoke.

"Some will still think," said the Provost, "you let him win too lightly."

"Too lightly!" said the Chairman with surprise. "Council now suspects him of corruption, nepotism, abuse of rank, and incompetence - hardly ideal credentials for an inauguration. He has focussed on one sole major issue for his election - the Hiverian 'invasion', and how to counter it. He has given relatively little thought as to the proper governing of the Aquascante factions and their people - a populace now suddenly three times the size of his own nation. If he becomes Planetary Governor now, he will be forced to confront this question. What is more, he will be compelled to answer it, and answer it well, within ten short years."

"Do you think he'll do a good job?" asked the Provost, smiling at his move.

"Possibly. I know I could not." The Chairman set down a piece. "Elder, the correct and efficient government of people is my foremost concern, and my studies on this matter go back for over two hundred and fifty years; they are still progressing as we speak. My society is not yet perfect - I am not satisfied with its current status, and as such I am still seeking ways to improve and refine the model. My government is still a work in progress, changing to meet the demands of the day."

"If I assumed leadership of Council, I would assume leadership of a population suddenly double that of my faction. Would I be confident in my rulership of that mass of humanity? Would I be able to define goals and values, manage economics and industry, arrange a proper political system, for the teeming hordes? Or would I merely be a desperate stopgap, a frail doorman to stand between the masses and their own self-destruction through anarchy?

"With great power comes great responsibility, goes the adage. Pravin Lal has dreamed of this power for decades - now he has his chance to assume it. And the whole world will see whether he is worthy to wield it, and to decide for themselves whether or not my words in Council ring true. Who knows? In ten years' time, perhaps there will be some who wonder whether I might have made a better ruler."

The Chairman's eyes glittered as he looked into the distance. "One thing is certain: in ten years' time, I intend to have made considerable inroads to my research on Hiverian policies of Planetary Government."

* ~ * ~ *

Morgan laid his hands on the table. Well, that was that, he supposed. He did not know whether to laugh or cry at this latest piece of news, but one thing was for sure - it certainly put the nail in the coffin of Operation Garrett.

He rubbed his eyes with a formidable knuckle and gazed blearily out. He was tired, but he hadn't dared to sleep in case he missed anything in Council. A short laugh broke from him - funny to think that four days beforehand, the whole meeting looked set to be a terrible bore! Now, there was talk of editing the footage from Council and repackaging the whole thing as a political drama.

Well, well. Morgan picked up the palmtop and read the final report for the third time, making sure he didn't miss a word. He shook his head with a vague sense of regret, then authorized a delete and set down the palmtop. He padded off into the warm luxury of his sleeping quarters.

It was time for bed.

Last edited by Alinestra Covelia on 27-07-2002 at 19:06

	31-07-2002 07:52									#57
	Support Apolyton, buy Galactic Civilizations

Endgame

"Are you done or not? This thing is not going to hold much longer!" shouted Murath.

Reinhardt's voice returned on the intercom. "Okay, the patch is through and we can activate the launchers now. You got the case?"

"Yes! Get back on the gunship! We've got less than ten minutes!"

Murath activated the front turrets and prayed that Reinhardt would have enough sense to approach from the back. Hopping across to the cargo gangway, he shot a glance outside. Good - the enemy were still struggling with his automatic emplacements.

All in all, Dritnam had been good. He had hacked into the airbase on their way to pick up the jet and had set in a few handy overrides for Murath. Now, the Hiverians had control of the bay doors, the flight deck access doors, and some of the gun emplacements. Two of theirs were taking fire from a DataTech-controlled emplacement, but Murath couldn't help that now.

There were no jets left - what jets the DataTech had were undergoing repairs in the rear decks, and they didn't have clearance or the time to bring them forward. What that did leave were the chopperlifts - slow and clumsy, but Murath had been briefed on the damage sustained by the DataTech during Operation Garrett, and he took comfort in the fact that they didn't have anything faster.

And, given the carnage that Murath and Reinhardt were wreaking here in their chopper bay, it was possible that they wouldn't be capable of pursuit at all.

Reinhardt breasted the threshold and slapped the printlock, bringing up the chopper ramp. "Ready to go?"

"Certainly am."

"Coordinates all set?"

"The HCV Jian Guo Men is waiting for us at 45.44N 92.01E."

"Okay," said Reinhardt, strapping himself in and placing the case between his calves. "Then so - ho! Onwards! To Extraction of Agent Hu, the Sequel!" He shook the head in its cryogenic container. "Hu, you lucky bugger, you really owe me now!"

Murath made one final check, then gunned the engine. With ponderous ease, the chopper lifted itself from the pad, and headed out to the magnetic tunnels of CliffView. As the massed DataTech on the ground focussed their futile rounds on the fleeing chopper, Reinhardt checked their trajectory and flight path. The sudden acceleration of the magnetic launch tunnels propelled them with frightening speed towards the open bay doors.

Ten meters behind the two, and on the lower level, but nonetheless travelling at the same velocity, Li Min shifted weight in his cramped cargo casing in preparation for a long flight. What had begun as an idle morning's hacking attempt looked set to become a very interesting trip for him. He had never been to Hiveria before.

As the chopper shot out from the magnetic tunnel with a sonic roar, the first rays of the new sun rose over the ocean bow in the west.

A new day had dawned.

* ~ * ~ *

All told, the overground damage from the two nuclear detonations was slight. There was some dramatic amateur footage showing the caves of BayBand and the CliffView airbase erupting in flames from the contained explosions, but fallout risk was minimal given the complete reaction of the impromptu weapons. The major damage wreaked by their force was largely borne by the Sentry-8 facilities, where the hewn rock tunnels and magtubes all served to channel and concentrate the tremendous force away from the epicenter and straight through the industrial heart of the DataTech.

Both fusion explosions hollowed out spherical cores of roughly one kilometer in radius, within which all matter was immediately sublimed and ionized. Rocks, metal, and synthecrete all vanished into superheated gases as their molecular structures sought stability in simpler forms - hydrogen and helium. The blast intensity decreased exponentially with distance, thanks in part to the absorbing effects of the dense rock, and also to the relatively minuscule size of the reactors themselves - under any respectable analysis as a military weapon, the effect of the jets would have been much more effectively achieved through deploying their standard payload of bombs and munitions.

It was the fireball that caused the most damage to personnel, and had the farthest range of effect, blowing out through the air filtration systems and claiming the most lives. The single air filter that emerged in Data DeCentral thankfully did so through a geothermal steam vent, far from inhabited suburbs. The fireball melted the baffled exhausts and the force of the blast ripped the whole structure from the hillside like a gigantic discus.

However, the true aim of the attacks was accomplished through the electromagnetic pulse that preceded the fireball. These passed unhampered through the thin bedrock and through to the construction proceeding below the bombs, blowing fuses and tripping electric valves as it went. The vital components of Project PowerClip gave out in the first splitseconds of the detonation, their electrical systems frazzled beyond repair, the mighty buildings and assemblers and computer-controlled manufacturing lines already useless inert metal before the fireball melted them. The Ergonomia offshoot of the Project PowerClip was utterly destroyed - the fireball consumed the military train, then passed effortlessly through the magtube to pound through empty space before mashing the structures below to an ionized plasma. The Data DeCentral collection center was shown to be largely undamaged, shielded somewhat more reliably by the interposing layers of rock, and initial hopes held that the minor damages could be repaired. But closer inspection showed the deadly EMP blast to have rendered all the electronics systems in the vast structure burned out beyond hope - city blocks after city blocks of structures, buildings, and equipment all suddenly valueless, in the blink of an atomic eye.

Final estimates of the damage done rated the Project officially stillborn - even without the pressing concerns of the Hiverian Navy and the Aquascante loan, there was simply no way that the isolated Iphiclian nation, with its now-crippled industry, could afford to revive the Project. As it was, the percentage of equipment caught by the twin attacks equalled over 86% of the several hundred thousand years' worth of total cumulative manpower, representing the work of industry and science over two decades. The DataJack attempted to play down the damage done, initially denying any attack had occurred at all, but it was not long before international pressures eventually forced her confession to Lal - that her two prizes, Hiverian Fusion power, and the Cyborg Factory, would never see the light of day.

This announcement had grave repercussions on the international appraisal of the DataTech faction, none moreso than the Morganites. Heated debates occurred between Peacekeeper and Nautilus representatives over the future role of the DataTech faction, and nearly murderous arguments broke out with the Morganites. It would not be until much later, after a public condemnation of DataTech exacerbation of probe activity and a recanting of his previous 'information freeflow' stance, that Lal would regain a shadow of his former standing in Council. The lack of any solid evidence linking the attacks to Hiverians was also a source of some considerable frustration for him. In a move of considerable danger to his post as Governor, Lal eventually pushed a secret resolution through his Privy Council to begin work on a Cyborg Factory of their own. Berzhinev's spies estimated Peacekeeper progress to be less than 30% complete upon the due date of the Hive's own such project.

Following Sheng Ji Yang's abstention in the Planetary Election and the surprising events on the DataTech mainland, the Council quickly came to a Peacekeeper victory, with Lal duly inaugurated to his wobbly post as the first Planetary Governor on Chiron. However, the details of the vote itself bear some description: the Gaian vote, at one point the most sought-after segment in the entire Council, quickly resolved itself to an impartial abstention. Morgan was quick to follow, shocking the Peacekeepers with the withholding of his support, and also with his speech pressing for the revocation of Maude-Harley trade restrictions against the Hive. The final vote change concerned the Spartan leadership, who also opted to abstain from the proceedings. Notably, they later turned down an arms trade deal with the DataTech, and caused considerable delay on any dealings with the Peacekeepers. They also declined to attend the subsequent Council meetings aimed at expediting their entry as an Aquascante faction.

At one stroke, Sheng had deprived the Council of its greatest perceived threat, and its greatest single unifying factor - himself. In the anticlimactic aimlessness of the final stages of the voting process, Lal garnered only the votes of the Nautilus and DataTech faction, in addition to his own stacked electoral college. The final vote total of 237 Council votes - though victorious - was nonetheless only a bare 60% of the Chairman's own vote total. One Morganite newspaper thought to compare the votes against the abstentions: according to these somewhat unkind findings, every person who thought nobody could rule better than Lal was outnumbered by three who actively thought nobody ought to be elected at all. "Nobody beats Lal for Prez... 3 - 1 victory" T shirts were popular for a while at the MorganSoft networks.

The Hive campaign against Harmonia gained momentum to its inevitable conclusion, the rich energy sources of the Uranium Flats someday to be parcelled out between Chairman and Provost, but was somewhat hampered by the Hive's need to turn their considerable military focus on a possible Aquascante rival. The embargo against the DataTech continued, with predictable results - crime and violence increased markedly in the urban sectors of the continent, with significant repercussions for civilians of that beleaguered regime.

Tryskel Carpenter, having achieved her dream of flying a Fusion powered craft, would not get another chance to enjoy it for a long time. The DataTech airforce, once repaired, never again undertook a UN-sponsored mission, as adequate training and equipment could not be secured from the Spartan sources. The proprietor of the RapCafe Blue at GammaProm continued in his humble trade, shifting his political allegiances quickly as urban violence and social destablization made the soldiers alternately his best friends and his worst enemies. DataJack Sinder Roze did not rescind the state of martial law - a development that was to indirectly cause considerable friction between Lal and Svensgaard on grounds of political ideology.

In time, DataTech police discovered the defused alarm at the back of RapCafe Blue, leading from the toilets. In time, they also discovered the basement safehouse, computers long since covered in quiet layers of dust. But they were never to know the importance that these remains played in the destruction of PowerClip. Much of the equipment ended up in the hands of the police, who used it to go online and play Guesswork.

Agent Hu, once safely back in Hiverian territory, was preserved for long enough to retrieve the majority of his knowledge. Within a month, he was once more presentable and was shown greeting his friend Jorenson at the fateful magtube station at Climatic Research Center. His debt to Anhalt Reinhardt, codenamed "Aurum-4", had more than doubled since the previous extraction. Hiverian High Command, largely under the prompting of Second Zhu He Lai, saw fit to pardon Lt. Col. Sun for his necessary judgements at the Battle of Deinara Sound, and as the war on terrorism continued, the Hiverian Diplomatic Corps found it much easier to draw world attention away from the SouthSea Isle plane crash incidents. The remains of the final Hiverian Fusion aircraft at or around SouthSea Isle were never recovered, for which Hiverian Intelligence Head Arkady Berzhinev suffered a slight blow to his reputation. However, on the premise that forgiveness begets forgiveness, he issued a complete pardon for all cellular descendants of Hiverian civil servant Zhou Huan Wei (Joe Amway), wrongfully accused of treason eighty years ago, and authorized a re-evaluation of all such individuals' work records. Zhou Huan Wei's own record was retrieved after much effort, and his controversial actions were finally shown in their true light, prompting a further recanting of the charges against him. A posthumous pardon was issued.

Also unrecovered were the final remains of Agent Pietr Hommel - at least, in the short time the Spartans were allowed on the island. As the standoff between Hive and Aquascante lengthened, SouthSea Isle acquired something of a mythical status within the halls of the Spartan Federation, and whispered tales still continue of the fearsome lone inhabitant, haunting the island and holding the full might of the Hiverian navy at bay. Spartan Citadel was renamed Hommel's Citadel, in honor of the national hero.

Prentice and Joely McClelland were pleasantly surprised to receive a formal message from Bent Jorenson, wishing them happiness together and congratulating them on the birth of their baby daughter Verity - whose birth did indeed coincide as predicted with the double solstice. Jorenson's message was concise, polite, and formal, but also relayed Agent Hu's congratulations. Despite Prentice's lingering curiosity, he was never to meet the Agent face to face again. He was never to learn the true source of Hu's apparent prescience. Jorenson offered Agent Hu's congratulations twice more, following the births of his second daughter Ashleigh and first son Hamish, and Agent Hu's commiserations once, following Joely McClelland's death in childbirth. Prentice did not remarry.

Mao Zhun, Agent Hu's cellchild, continued in her standard work as an engineer, although the Hive assigned her additional psychic training with Ota Kyi. She was never made aware of the mysterious circumstances surrounding her cellparent's break from duties during the Deinaran Incident, knowing only that Agent Hu had been lost, but was happily located through her trances.

Provost Prokhor Zakharov eventually won the 3-D wei qi game against Chairman Sheng Ji Yang. This completed, he lost interest in the game altogether, though Jorenson suspected the axiom "quit while you're ahead" had something to do with this apathy. The Provost's ad hoc probe network eventually located the remains of the DataTech spy in a cold storage facility checked out in Agent Hu's name. She was ultimately unfrozen and recycled.

As for the Provost's wondrous discovery, Fusion Power was indeed sold to the Gaians and disclosed to the Morganites in timely fashion - coinciding with the lifting of Hive-Morgan trade tariffs. Morgan's energy markets enjoyed perhaps their first ever Gaian-approved boom, as cleaner, more efficient Fusion reactors slowly gained dominance on the Phoenican mainland, starting from the tips of Morganite and Gaian territory.

* ~ * ~ *

Last edited by Alinestra Covelia on 31-07-2002 at 08:45

	31-07-2002 08:06									#58
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Joe Amway and Dritnam died, of course, though nobody else would know for sure. The leaders of the relatively young DataTech faction were unused to the implications of longevity treatment, as well as the abiding endurance of the Hiverian mindset. They never made the connection between the twin hijackings and the former NetIfic members, and Joe's profile was to remain on their Most Wanted lists ever after. With their own internal problems accelerating beyond their ability to control them, the Internal investigation petered out and returned an inconclusive result.

Yet to remove Joe from their Most Wanted lists entirely would have been an injustice. Even as the bullets punched their way through his mortal frame, and even as the ruined body collapsed to the ground, Joe was free - no longer a being of flesh and fluids, briefly held up by fragile bones. He soared through the sky, speeding on waves and leaping across beams undetectable to him in his previous incarnation. He glanced backwards at the sudden conflagration engulfing the site of his expiration, searching himself for a response or reaction, and found none, save for a quiet acknowledgement - an electronic nod - that the sprawling underground machine was forever silenced, and that his end of the agreement had been upheld.

All across the globe, his feet of immaterial light carried him, to peer along the elegant halls and past hanging banners at the disbanding Council, weary attendants finally returning home now that they had crowned their latest figurehead. Then a leap across the nets, and the steamy indolence of a solarium, little children playing in the pool - one fearful infant waiting at the side. He swooped into the skies, following the tight path of silvery machines as they pounded through the atmosphere, then he propelled himself across the sliding seas into the cramped confines of the steely cabins, shaking with the solemn duty of flotation.

He suddenly broke off, as if heeding something for the first time, and stopped. Then, with a burst of revelation and remembrance, he once again shot across the seas, this time towards the sunrise. Homewards.

The curved bow of the sunrise burst eastwards. Across the innumerable settlements on Planetface sharing the same meridianline, the bright golden dawn was breaking - same for the telescopes of University towers, operators squinting through the ether at galactic anomalies, minuscule with distance. Same for the scorched and smoking apertures of the Datatech shores, their infrastructure purged by fire from the inside outwards. Same for the tiny winking glint on the massive northern shore of the University - an insectlike wreck of snapped rotorblades and twisted metal, wherein nothing living has stirred since the internal struggle that crashed it.

Sunrise was not due for over a metric hour yet, in the Climatic Research Center, yet the city was its usual flurry of activity. The skyrail access tubes were smoothly ferrying harvests and minerals from the outlying terrain, the solar panels were warming up to their increasingly outdated task as Fusion-powered former units primed and fired them. The University day shift awoke to begin their cycles of study, exercise, and civic duties. Workers gathered to continue construction on the new Fusion Labs, indispensable for the furtherance of science, and promising very substantial economic rewards too; scientists responsible for the Balandin-Verniy Fusion Drives toiled away in their laboratories, striving towards discoveries that would make the hotly contested Fusion Power seem like mere scratches in the sand by comparison. Joe noted all this with a sense of pleasure, but sped past nonetheless, heading for a different destination.

Climatic Research Center offered a westward facing view of the torrid farmlands and ubiquitous sensor arrays of the distant Hiverian valleys. The longing to see his homeland growing, Joe dove into a newsnode for the latest news, and found Berzhinev's pardon. He turned his consciousness back towards the Hiverian bases, distant from the Sunny Mesa.

But the valleys were shut off and inaccessible to him, now just as before - Joe saw them as though through a haze, or an approaching penumbra. He tested the barrier of the other Algorithm - the Hunter-Seeker-Killer - and found it to be as strong as ever, snapping blindly at him in vicious hatred.

Once again, repatriation with the Hive was denied him. Only now, it was the mindless malice of an infallible guardian, not the misguided antipathy of a fallible human, that blocked his path. A sudden stab of agony struck him - now the guns and jails of the Hive were turned away from him, but the unthinking singularity of purpose that was the Algorithm still repelled him, as it would be powerless to repel a human.

Joe cast his gaze westwards, with the combined sensors and cameras of a nation, and gloried in the dawn. Forgetting his momentary despair of solitude, he recalled there were others expecting him. Citizens of flesh in their thousands, brought to the rocky mass of Harmonia and turned over like so much chattel. A handful of citizens of data-streams, fated to guide and lead the newborn faction. Amongst the clamor of voices beckoning him onwards, he recognized the distinctive tint of two old friends - one his fellow deathbed partner, one a friend who preceded them to the nets of her own free will. They would have much to discuss.

Together, they would harness and shape the ragged humanity below them. They would learn from the knowledge gleaned from the many factions from the nets, and they would eventually assemble a codex of their own, to form the society that would rise to play its part in the global whole. And it was entirely possible - indeed, perhaps probable - that they would one day come to shape the world as they hoped to shape their followers.

As he did so, he realized the sacrosanct importance of the future. There was so much to live for - such that sentience was truly its own reward. Filled with the joys of life, he recognized the vain futility of despair. People, even trapped as they were in the failing medium of their mortality, did not lose hope - a man with only five days left to live did not live them with any less enthusiasm and desire than a child with many thousands such. What right had he to despair, then, a creature whose sentience could endure countless aeons in the medium of raw data?

But for now, it was early yet. There was still time for Joe to enjoy his glorious new form, so lately born from the indignities of flesh. He observed the squalid settlement awhile longer from the lofty vantage point of the mists, then withdrew silently as he came. He turned his optical sentience towards the brightness of the sun, here already two hours in the sky, and greeted it in its fullness, neither squinting nor shying away.

Such brightness there was in the world! Such vast vistas beckoned! Such hope!

The luminous sentience, a bright being of light motes, hovered awhile longer to decide on a direction. And then, with a firm purpose, it moved on.

It took some of the light with it as it finally departed.



* ~ FIN ~ *