Seeds of Earth (8 page)

'I agree, it's a problem, but I'm going to wait until I've experienced Darien culture first-hand before considering solutions.' Robert parted another tall section of the wall and touch-opened the units within. 'It's a matter of how to establish the notion of everyday, common place, benevolent AIs . . .'

As he reached in, almost absentmindedly, and pulled out one of the shallow drawers, he stopped and stared in dread at the palm-sized object it contained.

'Ah, so that's where the room put it,' Harry murmured. T can have it stored somewhere else if you like.'

'No, no, it's all right,' Robert said. T can't keep on avoiding it. . .'

It was an intersim, a flat octagonal pad, mainly pale blue in colour with ochre trim around the readout and fingertip controls on one of the sides. The projection plate on top was like dark, smoky glass within which clusters of faceted emitters were just visible. It had a certain solidity to it, like the weight of compacted technology, or the weight of memory.

It was now almost a year since his daughter Rosa had died while on board the
Pax Terra, z.
refitted, unarmed scoutship owned by the protest group Life and Peace. The
Pax Terra
had been taking part in an attempted blockade of a wayport on the Metraj border from which Earthsphere and Sendruka Hegemony warships were leaving for the Yamanon Domain. The official version was that the protest boat was a suspected bombship pursuing a collision course with a Hegemony cruiser whose commander had no option but to open fire. Initially Earthsphere government had made mild objections, but soon dropped the matter.

Robert and his wife Giselle were distraught, and the Diplomatic Service was thankfully swift to offer him compassionate leave. But Robert was unable to stay at home in Bonn and mourn - he had to know the truth about Rosa's death.

Sitting at the end of a blue settle, he held the interactive sim in his hands and recalled the months spent tracking down witnesses to the blockade incident and speaking with her friends and colleagues at Life and Peace. What he learned utterly contradicted the official version of events, while confirming much of what he knew about his daughter, about her intellect and wit, and about her compassion and her willingness to put herself on the line for what she believed in. Millions had died when the Earthsphere-Hegemony coalition invaded the Yamanon Domain and bombarded the Dol Das regime's key worlds. Rosa had called those deaths an atrocity, a judgement he could no longer disagree with.

'We taught her to love,' he once said in a message to his wife during his travels, 'and she did what she did out of love.'

He was on Xasome in the Kingdom of Metraj, trying to glean corroborating data from public archive reports, when he received a package via the local Earthsphere consulate. It was from Earth, from his wife, and accom panying it was a short note that read: 'Dearest, I have found a way to bring the light back into our lives, and now you have one too. With love and joy - Giselle.

Thinking it to be some compendium of images and other recordings from the family archive, Robert had placed the intersim on a desk and switched it on. The device had emitted three flashes, mapping the room, and a moment later, abruptly, Rosa was standing then, dressed in one of her favourite outdoor rigs, smiling at him.

'Hi, Daddy!' she had said.

So brightly she spoke, so vibrant with that delighted alertness of hers, that he almost said,
'Rosa!
-
you're alive . . .'

But the words had choked in his throat as reason took hold, and he had stared at the simulation of his daughter in a wordless horror.

'Daddy, how are you?'

Unable to speak or look away, still he had reached out deliberately, with all of his will, and switched the device off. Looking at it now, resting on his palm, he knew what had driven Giselle to have such a thing made. He had understood and let the anger fade, knowing that part of the anger had been directed at his own despairing need for Rosa not to be dead.

And yet . . . and yet he could not bring himself to destroy the sim, or at least have its memory wiped, not then and not now.

Then, reaching a decision, he slipped the intersim into his jacket pocket, stood and resumed packing.

'Are you sure that's wise?' said Harry.

Robert smiled as he tucked away the last items of clothing. 'You think I may be putting my negotiating temperament and thus this assignment at risk?'

Harry assumed a look of mock surprise.

'What a hurtful interpretation of my genuine concern. I merely suggest that leaving the damned thing here would help your peace of mind.' He paused, face becoming more serious. 'Robert, I think that you're hurting yourself by taking it with you.'

Robert sighed. 'I appreciate the concern, Harry, truly. But you worry too much. Unlike Giselle, I have come to terms with Rosa's death and I know that this simulation is not her but a made thing. Not a living, breathing person that I can touch.'

Harry gave him a considering look for a moment. 'Tell me - is that how you see me, as a made thing?'

'Well, yes. Made by experience and thought and accident, and by friendship!' Robert smiled. 'Whereas Giselle's device is a frozen vision, an exhibit that cannot learn or change. Satisfied?'

'Yes - my crippled self-esteem has been suitably band ■ aged.' Harry gestured towards the two fastened valises 'Are you finished, because the people of Darien and their representatives await you, not to mention all those watching back home, in the Glow and elsewhere.'

Robert gave a groan. The Glow was the Solar System's virtual reality, where celebrity and excess reigned supreme. 'So the Office of Defence finally gave in to the media combines, did they?'

'Which means that we shall shortly be going live on Starstream,' Harry said with a wild grin. 'Since they were the only ones who would meet the OOD's asking price.'

'Starstream,' Robert said, activating the suspensors on his luggage. 'I can scarcely express my joy. Let's go.'

COLONISTS

West of Hammergard, across the two-mile width of Loch Morwen, a cluster of low buildings and two narrow towers sat on a headland overlooking the waters. Fenced off and patrolled, this was the main operational base for the Ranger division of the Darien Volunteer Corps. At that moment, almost six hours after the president's address to the colony, 185 of the division's 200 combat personnel were crammed into the base's small rec room, craning necks for a look at the sole v-screen.

'C'mon, get yer head down in front there!'

'Gonna no dae that?'

'Whit?'

'Shoutin' in my ear, ye howler!'

Donny Barbour grinned, listening to this and many other exchanges from the bench he had snagged at the front early on. At the moment, though, there was not much to see, just a pair of aycasters from Vizione, the main Darien channel, discussing background info that had already been well chewed over by the tabs and various radio pundits all day. Behind the sharp-dressed duo - Maggie and Lev - was a view of Port Gagarin's longest landing strip, seen from the main terminal. But when the shuttlecraft landed, Vizione would hand over to an Earthsphere media channel called Starstream, who had sent a coverage team on board the
Heracles.

Now Maggie and Lev were offering their own tepid speculation on what the future would hold for Darien, based on the near-content-free summary documents released by the president's office that morning. Donny almost laughed out loud, recalling what he'd heard from Sundstrom's own lips the night before.

If only you knew the truth.

The two aycasters halted their feeble guesswork, announcing the approach of the shuttle before makim the verbal handover to Starstream and their solo com mentator, Lee Shan.

LEE SHAN:
This is Lee Shan welcoming all our viewers and immersers across Earthsphere and beyond on this momentous day in the history of Humankind. I am speaking to you from the shuttlecraft
Achilles
as it descends through banks of cloud towards Darien Colony's largest landing zone, Port Gagarin, named, of course, after the Soviet-era astro-pioneer.

Video (low functionality) The shuttlecraft
Achilles
appears in the western sky, a distant speck that grows into a slender dart as it swoops down over the northern coast. Its flightpath then curves our over the sea before making the approach to Port Gagarin. The vessel's powered descent seems toe swift and steep until it slows dramatically, braking on columns of force that ripple the air beneath its fuselage. Engines drone and moments later the
Achilles
settles down gently on its landing gear.

LEE SHAN:
The
Achilles
is one of two fast picket boats that the cruiser
Heracles
possesses, both of which can be deployed for combat as well as peaceful purposes, as well as the ship's pinnace, the
Hermes.
The
Heracles,
of course, was recently on duty in the Yamanon Domain as part of Earthsphere's military commitment to the Hegemony-led Freedom Alliance, taking part in the overthrow of the brutal Dol-Das regime, and . liberating scores of worlds. We at Starstream salute the bravery of all Earthsphere and Hegemony forces still engaged in pacification operations in the Yamanon.

In the kitchen of a farmhouse built into the side of a hill southwest of Hammergard, Theo Karlsson stared at the portable vee with a mixture of amusement and unease while Rory and the rest of the loader team guffawed.

'We salute the whit?'

'Ah, the brave troops, Rory, for whom we must be joyously united in support!' said Alexei Firmanov.

'Da, and not forgetting the songs,' said his brother, Nikolai. 'Heroic songs that we all sing while waving flags, lots of flags.'

Rory squinted at the two grinning Russians. He was a short wiry Scot with unkempt sandy hair and a pair of ice-blue eyes that were full of misgivings.

'You're yanking ma chain, the pair of ye.'

'They're not, Rory,' Theo said. 'All this saluting the troops, waving the flag and singing songs - it is common to authoritarian cultures, like Soviet-era Russia back on Earth.'

'Ah, right, ancient history, aye.' Rory sniffed. 'So is th; it how Earth is, the now, Major? I thought they've got elections and all that...'

'There were elections during the Soviet era, too,' said Alexei. 'But there were no alternatives to the Part? 's candidate and all the media were tightly controlled,' He glanced at Theo. 'Is it like that on Earth, Major?'

'I'm not entirely sure,' he said. 'But going by radio reports, the political mainstream across most of Earthsphere seems to be pro-Hegemony'

Nikolai nodded vigorously. 'Is right - have they not elected a woman as interim president, and she's supposed to want to pursue more independent courses?'

Rory laughed. 'Aye, and then we pop up in the Hegemony's back yard, like helpless wee puppies! I bet they're using us tae make sure she toes the line!'

Theo grinned.
Rory, my boy,
he thought,
you're definitely one of the sharper tools in the box.

Just then, Janssen and Ivanov entered by the kitchen's rear door, the former dumping a bag of tools noisily on the tiled floor, the latter handing Theo a large cluster of keys.

'That's the last of the false walls up,' Ivanov said, loosening his heavy work jacket. 'We restacked the crates and old Tove helped us dirty up his barn floor again.'

Theo laughed. 'Once he quarters his
baro
in there for a night or two it'll be more than filthy enough.' He looked at Janssen. 'Any news from the others?'

'Maclean and Bessonov finished up in the last halfhour,' Janssen said, tugging off his brown woollen hat and scratching his scalp through wild black hair. 'But Hansen's team was held up by a cracked loader axle. They're going to be another hour at least.'

Nikolai shook his head. 'What's that old saying? "No plan survives contact with the enemy" . . .'

'Right, here we go!' said Rory loudly. 'That's him now, look . . .'

LEE SHAN:
And now Ambassador Horst descends the gantry to meet the vice-president, John Balfour. They shake hands, then Vice-President Balfour introduces him to the president of Darien Colony, Holger Sundstrom, who is confined to a wheelchair due to a spinal injury considered untreatable by the colony's medical establishment until now.

Video (low functionality) The ambassador is a tall, grey-haired man with a straight-backed posture and lean but kind face. He smiles as he comes face to face with the president, who is accompanied by a flock of officials and guards, and the smile widens as he leans down slightly to shake the man's hand. After an exchange of pleasantries, the assembled party of dignitaries and their attendants head along a covered walkway towards the main terminal. Behind them, a handful of reporters hurries down from the shuttle, muttering into lip-bead mikes or fiddling with head-mounted cams. c n !_□ N I STS

1
LEE SHAN:
Viewers and Glow immersers with holigital systems shall soon be receiving a higher-quality service now that myself and my, ah, assistant Tyberio have disembarked from the ambassador's shuttle. Other viewers, including the newest additions to the Starstream family right here on Darien, will be pleased to see a sharper, more vibrant picture.

'So are you watching thisT

'Well, we were, Tomas,' Greg said loudly into his comra above the babble of the score or more Uvolvo crammed into the dig site's meeting hut. 'But the picture just cut out - all we're getting now is interference.'

'Ah, no luck,'
said Tomas, his voice sounding thin and whistly.
'We got perfect reception up here, but then our signal is coming directly from Monitor sat.'

'Aye - why doesna that surprise me?' Greg said, accepting a beaker of something pungent from the Russian researchers then toasting each other.