Originator (41 page)

There were advantages to being known not to bluff. Hando stepped back out, a hand to one ear, no doubt formulating wildly. There was only one higher-ranked person he could go to.

“Speak fast,” she told Hafeez. “We may not have much time.” Hafeez's jaw tightened. Sandy guessed at the difficulty. “Let me start, so you don't have to worry about revealing this particular secret. Talee ships are all piloted by synthetics, aren't they?” There was as little reaction as she'd expected. But it was there, if you knew where to look. “I've seen some tape, of the coordination in those manoeuvers. A Federation Fleet tape. I'm sure League Fleet has far more experience. However the organic Talee psychology
works, I can't see how any organics can pull those manoeuvers, with that coordination. But for synthetics it might be possible, sharing off a common calculation matrix.

“Which means synthetic Talee pretty much run Talee foreign policy, because foreign policy is run by the people in the ships. We know about their dual catastrophes, Cai told us, and I'm sure League's known for a lot longer. But Cai didn't tell us why synthetic Talee seem to run everything, where policy toward humans is concerned. My running theory is that the synths were the only survivors of the last catastrophe and haven't trusted organics since. Given what the organics have gone and done here in Tanusha, it looks like they might be right about that. It also explains why Talee policy toward us has been so sensible and cautious until now, before turning abruptly insane. Organic Talee are deadly unstable. We've just never dealt with them before, only the synths.”

Hafeez leaned forward as far as his manacled hands would allow. “What are you offering?” he asked.

“If Takewashi's right,” said Sandy, “Pantala will be under attack right now, news just hasn't reached us yet. Kiril's tech originated in Droze, in Chancelry Corporation, after Takewashi loaned it to them. That's a far bigger target than Kiril, he's almost an afterthought by comparison. Whatever their ships, I don't think the synths have the balls to fight their own people over humanity. Clearly the organics have ships too, probably a lot more ships—they just haven't been allowed to use them near us.

“I'm offering cooperation. Federation and League, together, to save Pantala and to give the Talee organics a butt whipping they won't soon forget. And to share this new tech, if we succeed, with all of the League and keep everyone sane.”

Hafeez sat back in his chair, considering her. More than slightly amazed. “You have Talee tech. Cai gave you a whole bunch, you've got a bunch of their GI-infiltrators' bodies, and Tanushan tech can reverse-engineer anything. If you help us, you'll have to share that with us too. We won't survive long against Talee warships without it.”

Sandy nodded. “That's what I'm saying. I doubt we can replicate their uplinks for a long time, the hardware will be technological generations ahead. But Cai knew enough pure software patches to . . . well. It'll
completely change everything everyone thinks they know. And while it doesn't put us on their level, it puts us close enough that they can't just wipe us out by ‘magic.'”

Because every sufficiently advanced technology will look indistinguishable from magic to those less advanced, a wise writer long ago had said. Everyone who knew infotech knew that quote. Prior to Cai's intervention, Talee tech had been magic to humans. No longer.

Sandy entered Ibrahim's office at Hando's heels and saw Amirah for the first time since the fight. The girl was uplinked, racing through data on newly safe networks, hair falling roughly about her face. She disconnected as Sandy entered and gazed at her tiredly—the thousand-yard stare of a veteran who had seen one too many horrible things. Amirah never used to have that look. Sandy hugged her.

“I'm so glad your kids are okay, Sandy,” Amirah said with feeling. “I was really scared for them.”

Sandy believed her and kissed her with feeling. She felt so proud of her fellow GIs. Many of them had died, for nothing more than a sense of civic duty. They weren't so long in Tanusha that they felt connected to it like she did, but they volunteered anyway, out of concern for others, and the unquenchable optimism of the newly arrived.

Amirah left on other business, and Sandy stood before Ibrahim, choosing not to sit, as he was only leaning against the edge of his desk, while Hando glared from the side.

“You don't make the Federation's foreign policy,” Hando told her.

“Neither does the FSA,” said Sandy. Her uplinks showed her Svetlana, unwaking in her ward, with Danya seated alongside, holding her hand. And Kiril, still with Ragi, now impatient and tired with something. “The Grand Council does, and the Grand Council is out of action. Someone has to make foreign policy, and I'm putting my flag in the ground.”

“You can't just . . .” Hando began, and broke off as Ibrahim held up his hand. Ibrahim looked tired. Being in forced VR for all that time could be wearisome, like sleep deprivation, Sandy understood.

“You're right about the Talee,” he said. “We have to hit back, or this will become a habit for them. Cai's death is unfortunate, we can't be sure exactly
how far the Talee synthetics will be prepared to go to oppose their own kind, and to restore their preeminence in Talee foreign policy.”

“We can't even be sure that's actually the situation!” Hando protested.

“But I can't sanction this attempt of yours to co-opt League GIs to get the entire League onboard,” Ibrahim continued. “Asking League to invite and collaborate full-scale Federation military intervention in League territory seems foolhardy. The last time we intervened at Pantala it nearly restarted the war.”

“I'm not asking League Gov to sanction it,” Sandy said flatly. “I'm asking League GIs to sanction it.”

“League GIs follow orders,” said Ibrahim, eyes lidded with that familiar, wary intelligence.

“Right,” said Sandy. “Who else is there from the League chain of command on Callay? This guy Hafeez in our holding cell might be the highest-ranking League operative on the planet.”

“‘Might be' is not a lot to go on.”

“ISO have put high-designation GIs in charge before. He says he's a forty-four series, but he's probably lying. He said ‘forty-four and change.'” Ibrahim's always-arched eyebrows arched a little more. “That's a very old expression, from the days of a cash economy. ‘Change' is what was left after you'd paid for something with a larger denomination. Most GIs just aren't interested enough in abstract sociologisms to go searching for vocabulary there. I picked some up because I watched old movies and read old books. League makes that hard because League doesn't like old stuff. It's available, but it's not fashionable.”

“You're going to trust an enemy GI with Federation foreign policy because he watches old movies?” Hando seemed quite agitated. It only convinced Sandy more of her present course.

“I think he's probably another fifty or fifty-one, like Mustafa,” she continued. “I just get that sense, I was running speech-rec as we were talking, and it spiked in all the right places. ISO trust their high-des operatives, and if they've got more like Mustafa, and we know they do, Callay's exactly where they'd use them. Which means Hafeez is effectively the rank of a League carrier captain. Maybe a bit higher.”

“Cassandra,” Ibrahim said carefully. “I understand what you're saying, and it's a nice idea. I'd like nothing more than to put differences with the
League behind us for a common cause. But consider the Federation's present political situation. . . .”

As Ibrahim spoke, Sandy's uplinks showed her Kiril, abruptly upset and shouting something at Ragi. On the verge of tears. Sandy uplinked, something she wouldn't have dared do before yesterday.

“
Kiri. Kiri, it's me
.”

“
Sandy?
” He was speaking aloud at his end, Ragi looking a little surprised. But only a little, because Ragi would have known anyway. “
Sandy, where are you?
”

“
I'm in a meeting with Director Ibrahim. I'll be with you in a minute. I love you
.” The linkup was broad width, transmitting far more than just words, and she thought hard on that feeling, with no real faith that it would work. But a faint glow came back, and her heart beat a little faster.

“
I love you too. I'm okay, I'm not upset
.”

“
I know. Just be good with Ragi for a few minutes, okay?
” Some mothers she'd heard sweet-talked their kids a lot more, with “brave boy” and “good boy” and “sweet boy.” She didn't know how to do that; her brain didn't process platitudes, and, like his siblings, Kiril wouldn't appreciate being patronised. She'd always thought she was lacking something before, as a parent, that she couldn't do such things. Only now was she coming to realise that she truly didn't need to, and that her kids didn't want some mythical, perfect parent—they wanted her.

Ibrahim's explanation finished, she'd been listening with the other side of her brain—the expected thing about the Federation being ill-prepared to take collective military action anywhere, with the mess the Grand Council was in. And the firm expectation that FedInt would block it anyway, especially if it was being led by FSA.

“I understand,” she said. A silence followed.

“Cassandra,” Ibrahim said carefully, “I must warn you of the dangers of any unilateral action on your part. I know you think the current conflict between FSA and FedInt to be trivial—I must assure you it is not. You don't know everything that I know. Promise me you'll keep your head down for a change.”

“I promise,” said Sandy.

“
But he told you to keep your head down
,” Ragi formulated as she strode down the hall in medical. “
Are you going to keep your head down?
”

“
Fuck no
,” said Sandy. “
Physical assembly's going to be too difficult, but I want everyone together, and soon. We need to talk about this properly, all us synthetics
.”

“
Sandy . . . you're not planning an insurrection of artificial people against organics are you?
”

“
No, but we've a bunch of things we need to get done, and I absolutely refuse to put them through the process, because the process right now is broken. We don't need process, we need results, and GIs are the only ones who can deliver it. Once we have results, we can present it as a fait accompli
.”

“
Hmm
.”

Sandy entered the med ward and found Kiril sitting on a bed between monitor paddles, more patches stuck to a baseball cap on his head, and looking uncharacteristically disagreeable. “Hey, kid,” said Sandy, and sat alongside him with a kiss. “What's up?”

“Ragi's doing all kinds of uplink stuff,” Kiril complained. “And it's making me feel sick. I'm tired and I want to go home!”

“Good lord,” Sandy said mildly, “what happened to ‘oh my god I love uplinks so much! I want to use my uplinks all the time and never stop using them!'?”

“S'not funny!” Kiril retorted. “My head hurts.”

“Just the usual full-spectrum checks,” Ragi answered Sandy's questioning look. “Cai did some things on the barriers that will take weeks to decipher. Otherwise it all looks remarkably stable.”

“He's going to get tape,” said Sandy, looking at Kiril but trying to keep the most obvious concern from her face. “They all are.”

“I don't want trauma tape!” Again the lip was quivering. “Danya says it turns your brain to mush, I don't want it!”

“Tough,” said Sandy. “You're all getting it, because I'm boss and I say so.” Kiril started crying. “He's tired,” Sandy explained to Ragi, who looked concerned. “And he's been through something that would have given most adults a breakdown, and he's completely pissed off.” She put an arm around him. “But you're still getting tape. I'm an adult combat vet, and I've had lots of trauma tape. You don't fuck with post-traumatic stress disorder, Kiri, it's no fun. Even GIs get it.”

This was a new phase in her parenting, then. A few months ago she'd have been guilty and anxious at making him cry. But now, she knew she was right,
and the insecurity that he'd stop loving her if she got tough with him had disappeared. Kids cried sometimes; she just thanked her lucky stars Kiril cried so rarely. He was the only one who might, at less important things. If either of his siblings cried, something was badly wrong.

“
Tonight, half-past-ten
,” came Ragi's voice in her ear. “
I'll have the VR set up
.”

When they got back to Svetlana's ward, she was awake, and Danya was lying on the bed beside her as they talked. Kiril forgot his bad mood and scrambled up onto Danya, who held him there as he assaulted the sleepy girl with a recital of all the weird things that had happened to him lately. It was Kiril's way of saying hello, and Svetlana seemed happy to receive it.

Sandy just looked at them for a moment, all together on the big hospital bed. Such great friends, with a bond like she knew existed between combat vets. She could almost feel like an outsider, watching them talk . . . or rather, watching Kiril talk while Svetlana and Danya listened. But Svetlana looked over at her, wantingly, and she came, and sat alongside, and grasped her hand and tried very hard not to cry. Without much success.

“I don't actually feel very much,” said Svetlana a little dreamily. “It doesn't hurt, they said something about micro-implants, I didn't understand it.”

“It's micro-machines!” Kiril said enthusiastically. “They inject them into your blood, and then . . . and then they go woosh! and they multiply, and they get right onto your pain nerves and make them go quiet.”

“I told her she's going to be here another five days,” said Danya. “We'll bring you lots of things from home.”