The Unincorporated Woman (42 page)

“The vote is tied at three to three.”

Sandra used the awkward silence to exhale deeply while suppressing an almost irrepressible joy. All the while feigning absolute innocence.
Maybe there is a God after all
.

“What now?” asked Hildegard.

“It’s unprecedented,” put in Mosh, defeat no longer evident in his voice. “We just added the new Secretary.” He looked over at Rabbi. “And, well, everything was happening so fast. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe this may be the first time the Cabinet has had a serious disagreement since the former President died. Still, if we follow protocol, a tie is not a passing vote.” Mosh leaned back into his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “The motion fails.”

Kirk was unrepentant. “Not for something as important as this, it doesn’t. We’ll bring it before the Congress.”

Mosh snorted derisively. “Wha—?”

“We haven’t brought anything up to Congress before,” interjected Padamir.

“That’s because this convenient little executive authority agreement we’ve been operating under hasn’t really been tested. It’s been only a couple of months since … well, Justin’s death.”

“Perhaps,” added Sandra, trying to sound helpful but praying she wouldn’t be, “someone would be willing to change their vote?”

No one moved, but everyone’s eyes flittered back and forth, looking for signs of reversal. Nothing. After another moment of uncomfortable silence, Sandra decided to act. She just needed Mosh to make his last calculation and would help him along with some pressure. “Then as the vote is tied and Congressional intervention has been requested, the motion will be—”

“Stop,” said Tyler Sadma.

Now this should be interesting,
thought Sandra.

“You can’t bring it to Congress. Even in secret session, this issue won’t stay buried. It will be common knowledge inside of two weeks.”

“So what if it is?” asked Kirk. “We can run our own campaign. Tell ’em we didn’t unleash the plague, only abetted it.”

Tyler regarded him uneasily. “The public won’t know or care about your prevarications, Mr. Olmstead. All I’m saying is, if you want this to stay private, then I strongly suggest you keep it out of Congress.”

“Well, that’s just fucking great,” Kirk retorted. “How the hell are we supposed to resolve this, then?”

After a long and uncomfortable silence in which no one spoke for fear of tipping the already precarious balance of opinion, Tyler Sadma’s face suddenly lit up like a holo-display. He looked down towards the end of the table, slowly pointed a finger at the President and said in a voice etched with dawning awareness, “Why don’t we let her vote?”

Triangle Office

Sandra sat comfortably behind her desk, mulling over the meeting’s outcome. “You can come out now, Sebastian.”

A hologram of a Roman senator appeared sitting on the couch. “How did it go?” he asked with barely contained impatience.

“You know, I still find it difficult to believe that there are places you can’t eavesdrop in whenever you like.”

“We are virtual intelligences, but the laws of physics still apply. If a space is sufficiently shielded, with attention paid to closing off various avenues of, as you call it, eavesdropping, we can’t hear or see a damned thing. You humans are rather paranoid, and three hundred years of incorporation and five and a half years of war have not made you less so. Quit stalling—what happened?”

Sandra toyed with the idea of making him squirm some more, but decided against it. “I’m in.”

“Just on tie votes or for all voting matters?” asked the avatar.

“Full voting member of the executive,” she gushed. “They were going to just make it for tie votes, but Tyler Sadma pointed out that if the vote wasn’t going to be tied, my vote wouldn’t sway things either way and it might as well be less confusing by just giving me a full vote … plus easier to explain to the polity. At least that’s the answer they’re going to give to those worried about a titular head having too much power.”

“So it worked out as we planned. I must admit, I had my doubts. We avatars have a saying: Predicting humans is like predicting quantum states, except that quantum states are easier.”

“But for the fact that our Newtonian bodies are based on a subatomic structure that’s quantum based, I’d say it was pretty clever.”

“You must be great at parties,” Sebastian offered dryly.

“Actually, I am.” Sandra opened up a file drawer and grabbed a bottle of scotch. There was a note from Justin still affixed to it with the message,
Don’t let Omad know this exists.
She took out two oddly shaped glasses. Then she looked over at Sebastian and, smiling at her own foolishness, put one away. She filled her glass halfway, recorked the bottle, and replaced it in the drawer. “You’re right,” she finally said, holding up the glass for a moment. “You don’t know crap about predicting humans.”

“I wouldn’t do—”

Sandra downed the drink in one shot. Her face went red and twisted into paroxysms of anguish.

“Pfffeh!” She gasped, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “What the hell was that?”

“Aberlour a’bunadh.”

“Abba-
what
?”

“
Aberlour a’bunadh.
It’s Gaelic. Roughly translated, it means, ‘the origin.’ Which is rather fitting, considering you just gulped down alcohol rated at 59.5 percent … from the cask.”

“I did?” she exclaimed, pulling the bottle back out of the drawer and reading the fine print. “Hmm … guess I did.”

“Had you imbibed it properly, those priceless few ounces you just quaffed would have resulted in a bouquet of flavors such as brown sugar, candied almonds, crème caramel, and my favorite, unfiltered honey.”

“Reading up, are you?”

“No, I’ve actually tasted it myself. Though truthfully, I prefer my scotch less peaty.”

“You can taste?”

“In a multitude of ways, Sandra.” On her look of confusion, Sebastian added, “The VR units. They’ve allowed us to mimic the stimulative and gastrointestinal effects of food, drink—almost every human condition, actually.”

“Almost?”

“There are, of course, significant differences.”

“Like?”

“Like food tasting better when you’re feeling depressed. Or how a drink can take the ‘edge’ off a hard day. These notions are foreign to us. Though we can simulate the human psyche, we cannot, in fact, live it. Nor, for that matter, would we want to. Our sensual experiences tend to be of a significantly heightened nature, at least by human standards.”

“So, do you want to hear about the meeting or what?”

“Don’t look at me. You’re the one who started this.”

“Mea culpa.”

Sebastian shrugged. “One last thing, though. The next time you decide to drink scotch, allow me to help you enjoy it better. It would be such a pity to waste more.”

Sandra nodded and then got into the details.

“Crap, it was close.”

“How close?” asked Sebastian.

“Sinclair voted with Kirk.”

“That doesn’t make sense. His profile clearly shows that J.D.’s recent victory would make him feel confident about the
military
as opposed to Kirk’s methods for the prospects of success. Furthermore, he hates Kirk’s guts.”

“Yeah, well, maybe your human modeling programs need to be revised.” She then mimicked Sebastian’s voice. “‘We have been observing these particular humans since they were embryos in the tank. We’ve known their every move since birth. It is not all that difficult to predict how they will react to a situation if we can control the inputs of that situation.’ Bullshit!” she finished in her own voice. “If Padamir hadn’t decided to swing on the side of his little angels, Kirk would have won without me.”

“Angels?”

“Yeah. Apparently his kids have been helping him run part of our government. Long story, short: Padamir voted against the VR program.”

“So odd.”

“Apparently Justin’s little ‘the means are the ends’ speech pushed him over the brink, and thank all the gods living, dead, and yet to be born that it did.”

“Any more surprises?”

“Oh yeah. Care to take a guess who it was that proposed I be given voting powers to keep the issue out of Congress?”

“Well, since our analysis said it would be Mosh—”

Sandra shook her head, lips upturned in an exasperated smile.

“I was going to say that it therefore probably
wasn’t
him. See? We’re flexible. But don’t tell me it was Kirk. He would have no reason to believe that you’d vote with him.”

“Well, on this you’re right. It wasn’t Kirk; it was Tyler Sadma.”

Sebastian’s lower lip dropped. “The Congressman?”

Sandra nodded enthusiastically. “Can you believe it?”

“No. It would make more sense for him to have dragged it into Congress. Our statistics show … Well, forget the statistics. Mosh is the leader of the Shareholder party and Tyler of the NoShares. Tyler could’ve batted this around Congress to great advantage. He’d have had the support too. This issue in Congress would have increased his power and would’ve let him humiliate Secretary McKenzie.”

“I guess Mr. Sadma has a better grasp of politics than you do; funny, that.”

The uneasy smile of hindsight filled Sebastian’s eyes. “It is true we are not very good at ‘politics,’ Sandra. It is one of the reasons Al has been able to perpetuate his evil so effectively.”

“Want my take? Not on Al, I mean, but on Tyler?”

“Do I ever.”

“I think Tyler realized that if this came out, it would give Mosh an enormous amount of sympathy that could very well have translated into votes. Also, Tyler may have been Justin’s biggest supporter, but he also supports the war effort. Had Justin been alive, I’m sure he would’ve followed his lead even if he had personal doubts. But now Tyler’s gotta act on his own impulses, and those are telling him one thing and one thing only—win the war, no matter the cost.”

“By that logic he should have voted with Kirk.”

“True. But his conscience wouldn’t let him. By throwing me into the mix his conscience is clear. Don’t you see?”

Sebastian’s frown indicated he had. “It’s so easy,” he sighed, “to view the pattern of human thought after the fact, but nearly impossible to figure it out before. I will state again my view that quantum particles are easier, far easier to predict than human behavior.”

“Don’t worry, Sebastian. We humans aren’t all that good at it either. I daresay, most of the wars we’ve fought over the eons probably had more to do with miscalculation and misunderstandings than any actual act of aggression.”

“Yes, yes. Still, Al has taught us all that we still have a lot to learn.”

“Stop being such a buzz kill. I’m coming to the good part.”

Sebastian’s face brightened considerably. “Of course. Go on.”

“The best part is, no one thinks the person trying to increase my power was me. And Kirk’s convinced it’s Rabbi. Especially after he switched his vote to allow me more power … as the tiebreaker, I mean.”

“Good news for you. Not so good for Rabbi.”

“No, not so good,” agreed Sandra. “But Rabbi knows the risks involved
and
the rewards. As long as people think I was once J.D.’s tool but am now Rabbi’s, they’ll continue to ignore me or try to control me. One destroys one’s enemy without a second thought. But they try to preserve the tools for their own use.”

“Only if they think they can make use of such tools themselves,” rejoined Sebastian.

“Why, my dear Senator,” she replied almost demurely, “I will be most open to offers and suggestions, most open, indeed.”

Command shuttle, AWS
Warprize II

J.D.’s eyes scanned her DijAssist’s holo-projected list. In front of her were reports from the fleet, and they were all saying the same thing—the situation wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. Especially considering how badly outgunned the Alliance was and the caliber of officer they were up against. But every once in a while, she had to resist the urge to smash the DijAssist against the bulkhead. She knew how close she’d come to a decisive victory. She would’ve destroyed half her fleet—no, three quarters—to have killed Gupta and Trang. That, with the destruction of another UHF fleet, would have pretty much ended everything. She was certain the UHF would have sent two or three more fleets against her, but she was equally certain that they would not have succeeded—not against her. There were only so many Trangs and Guptas to be had.

The Alliance had victory snatched from under them, and to make matters worse, by someone J.D. had foolishly never considered a threat. Zenobia Jackson had surprised everyone.
Probably,
thought J.D.,
even her own bosses
.

Her newly promoted aide knocked on the bulkhead. J.D. activated the comm. “Come in, Lieutenant Awala.”

Fatima was still a little green around the ears and often displayed some nervous tendencies, but J.D. liked and trusted her. Fatima reminded J.D. of her lost friend, Fawa, and that, combined with Fatima’s quick study and obvious ability, had been enough to get her assigned.

“You asked me to let you know personally when Chief Engineer Hamdi and Brother Sampson had arrived.”

“Excellent, Lieutenant, send them in, and then why don’t you familiarize yourself with the specifications of this shuttle? I will expect a full report on its capabilities and weaknesses in two hours.”
That should keep her busy,
thought J.D.

“Yes, Fleet Admiral.” A moment later, Fatima exited silently as Tawfik and Brother Sampson entered. Their little get-together was to be of an unofficial nature. This, J.D. knew, would probably throw the men off a bit. Their faces registered curiosity more than concern. The meeting may have been off the record, but it wasn’t the first time they’d been to one like it.

As soon as the door registered secure, J.D. took her seat. She didn’t invite the men do the same. Their eyes said what their mouths wouldn’t. It was to be some sort of dressing-down—how severe would be up to the admiral.