Absorption (13 page)

Michael flushed and tried to interrupt, but the gnome ignored that and spoke over him, no longer quite yelling. Perhaps he was naturally loud. Ariel stood next to him, as did the man who had given him a one way tour of the dance.

“I said I’m not accusing you of planning this. You might fantasize something like this, but you wouldn’t actually do it. You’re much too passive, which could certainly have saved you from a lot of stupidity in this case. The problem is, you trust Mr. Fletcher and share your personal problems with him. He doesn’t give a damn about your insecurities, but he thought he saw a way to use them to advance his political agenda.”

The gnome glared lividly at Brett’s former escort, also dressed in blue and gold. Was this the mysterious Fletcher, or someone associated with him, or was the speaker angry at everyone? A slightly high pitched voice didn’t detract from an air of authority that commanded attention. He continued addressing Michael.

“There are still a lot of Galactics who care about tradition. I don’t know if Mr. Fletcher’s plans will work or not, but your career is dead.”

Galactics? From the galaxy away from Oceania? Or had Williams said something about an Oceanian political party named the Galactics? Alarms began to go off in Brett’s head. Of course, this was an alien culture on an alien world, and he didn’t understand everything happening. It did sound like something important had happened, something which might become public knowledge. Was Michael some sort of professional master of ceremonies, manipulated into getting involved in politics? Brett couldn’t see this helping his own mission in any way, and it seemed likely enough to make it harder. He set aside his own dislike of Michael as irrelevant, and spoke for himself. “No big deal. A misunderstanding occurred. I seem to be the man you’re concerned about, and the thing that would make me happiest would be to leave this alone.”

Michael chimed in eagerly, “You see, Napoleon?”

Brett experienced a moment of keen regret he could not leave Michael twisting in the wind. Then he returned his mind to the matter at hand.

Napoleon ignored Michael and addressed himself solely to Brett. It took a moment to adjust as he lowered his voice. Somehow he sounded a touch wistful. “This may sound hard to believe right now, but you would have found it easier even a few decades ago. An original purpose of the Herbirthday celebration was to help other humans imagine the potential of our way of life, not just materially or economically, but for personal happiness. It may seem odd that I should care more about that than politics, but it’s a … very old tradition, almost as old as Oceania herself.”

It took Brett a moment to understand that the man referred, not to the planet, but to the supermind. He didn’t wonder how the man recognized him. Presumably he had been hooked up to the information sources of the entire planet prior to removing his hat in disgust. But why was this man in charge? Awhile ago it had appeared Michael was in charge. Napoleon was dressed in blue and gold, identical to that of Brett’s former guide.

While Brett was wondering what superior authority he could appeal to, Napoleon turned to Brett’s former guide and said, “I may be retiring soon, but you’ll soon see this is it for you. Politics won’t enter into it.”

The other man (Fletcher?) looked dismayed and didn’t argue. Oddly touching that his unpleasant experience concerned someone so much. On the other hand, making a public issue of this wouldn’t work for the benefit of peaceful retrenchment of the Oceanian supermind.

Napoleon at last acknowledged Michael. “Your career may not directly depend on the hive mind, but there are a great many people who care about my opinion, and -”

Michael interrupted before Brett could. “Fletcher said –”

It seemed unlikely this attempt to shift blame would win any respect for Michael, or benefit Brett’s purpose. Michael was interrupted yet again, this time by Brett. “If causing a political disturbance was Fletcher’s purpose, it seems wrong to play into his hands. Besides, what I saw was interesting and I’m thinking of trying some nanotechnology.”

It was the first thing that came to mind, but harmless enough. The Oceanians wouldn’t give their technology and the keys to their information systems to a foreign power they were on the brink of war with. He merely offered a face saving way out.

Napoleon smiled. “There might be a few hurdles, but we welcome anyone with a sincere desire to learn.”

The thought made Brett sick to his stomach, but the Space Force could be counted on to veto it. Surely the Oceanians would pry more knowledge out of his head with their own technology then Brett could hope to acquire about them.

Some of Brett’s response must have shown on his face. Napoleon sounded a shade disappointed. “Or should we just say the experience made you think about it, but not actually do it? Becoming part of the supermind is actually a lot of effort, not something you could do halfheartedly.”

So Brett wouldn’t need an excuse after all.

Then Napoleon added, “If you only wanted to gain the same accelerated learning and medical monitoring most Oceanians have, it would be easier.”

Once the Oceanians were inside his head, only they would know what they had done and what they had taken.

Brett lied smoothly, “I’ll think it over thank you.”

Napoleon turned to Michael again. “If he does get the infusion, maybe you could ask Ariel to accompany him. He’s sure to be nervous, and has no local friends.”

Brett blinked. Surely the man didn’t know Michael.

Napoleon’s voice grew louder and sharper again. “It would demonstrate that you were trying to help Major Johnson understand us, rather than turning the Princedom of the Feast at Herbirthday Unlayn into an arena for extracting petty revenge for pettier jealousy.”

Why should Michael be jealous of him? Instead of asking, Brett said, “Shouldn’t you talk to Ariel about that? She’s standing right there.”

The man had gotten his way in almost everything, but Brett suspected a limit had been reached.

Napoleon didn’t. “Ariel was my student for a long time. I think that –”

Despite himself, Brett’s attention sharpened at the notion of learning more about Ariel. What had she studied?

She interrupted Napoleon. “Have you by any chance learned anything from me?”

Had she taught some other subject? Brett was tired of having no idea what anyone was talking about. Asking everyone to stop and explain was out of the question. He wanted this conflict forgotten since it couldn’t benefit his mission.

Napoleon nodded, seemed about to speak, but Ariel wasn’t through. “But not enough for me ever to have been your teacher in any meaningful sense?”

Napoleon shook his head. “I never said –”

Brett suppressed a grin as she continued. Then he was distracted from his amusement. Part of his mission was to learn about the Oceanian system. He would write a report on what he had learned, and the next time he communicated with the Firestorm from the shielded VR conference room in the embassy they would discuss it. Suddenly he could imagine being ordered to accept Napoleon’s offer. A well placed spy could be worth thousands of troops. He might risk more than his life. Oceania might devour his soul.

Brett sat in a metal chair bolted to the floor. The white section of conference table in front of him was shaped like a wedge of pie, with him seated at the curved rim of the quarter circle. He put on glasses and saw a large round conference table at which he sat alone. The chair and slice of the table had the same shape in virtual and physical reality, eliminating vertigo and the danger of bumping into invisible obstacles or trying to lean on intangible objects. Cameras in the corners of the room scanned foreign objects and duplicated them in the virtual reality.

It turned out Colonel Barr had other priorities than Brett’s report. He began, “We’re updating three contingency plans. Plan A is to eliminate the Oceanian ability to produce Nanotech machines militarily before they know what’s happening, while minimizing civilian casualties. Plan B involves giving them an ultimatum and a week’s notice. Plan C involves putting teeth into the embargo.”

Brett took a breath. “Sir, from what I’ve learned plan A isn’t workable.”

Barr’s expression did not change as Brett continued. “We’re not talking about a few large assembly plants, or factory complexes concentrated in a few cities. Each stage of production has a number of companies competing for business, with no bottleneck we could plug.”

Brett watched the Colonel frown as he continued. “The problem is the same with B. We couldn’t do it. The location of the people and the equipment of many smaller companies aren’t even available to us.”

The conclusion was inevitable. “Plan C is more of the same. That won’t do either. The blockade is already as tight as we can make it.”

The Colonel nodded agreement. “If we want them to sense our seriousness we’ve got to be serious. If we have no plan besides waiting for them to see we mean business, then we don’t.”

The Colonel didn’t mention any plan D formulated in response to the collapse of all three original plans. Brett knew where this was going. With a heavy feeling in his gut he said, “I suppose you read my report on Herbirthday.”

Colonel Barr replied, “I did.”

“Too bad I have so much intelligence information in my head. The Space Force could never let me take up that offer.”

Barr slumped into an unmilitary posture. “I’m sorry Brett. I’m not ordering you to do this, or even asking you to volunteer, but I’m ordered not to forbid it.”

It was on the table. Brett replied reluctantly. “Nobody’s ordering me – but I guess they see it as a no-lose situation for us.”

Barr replied bluntly, “Except for you. You didn’t sign up for this.”

He didn’t have to volunteer. Maybe his superiors, and the Senator, would understand. Even if they didn’t, so what?

It was just that many lives could be saved on both sides if the war were shortened, or prevented.

Colonel Barr asked, “Did that man really have the authority to make such an offer?”

Brett didn’t think it would be that simple. “Sir, they have a long tradition of accepting people from other worlds. If they use part of people’s brainpower without the owners being aware of it, I’ve found no evidence.”

Then he broke eye contact and stared down at the table. Barr would understand the unprofessional demeanor, or if not, the hell with him. Brett wasn’t going to let anyone hear him whine, but it felt so unfair. He would rather have been headed into combat.

Finally he took a deep breath and looked up. “Sir, forget for the moment pumping creepy micromachines into my veins. If I make it home, do I spend the rest of my life being debriefed in a small room under close supervision just in case I have undetectable conditioning?”

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Brett realized it sounded as if he were more worried about Federalist paranoia than the Oceanians.

Barr’s reply helped a little. “I won’t make promises I can’t keep, but I won’t forget about you if you’re incommunicado, and I know others in my chain of command who won’t either.”

All pretexts for delay were gone. Brett said, “There’s no excuse for my refusing, really. How long do I have to think about it?”

Barr grinned. “As long as you want to, as far as I’m concerned. Nobody gave me any deadline.”

Neither of them mentioned that he hadn’t officially been asked to do anything.

After a pause Brett said, “If I didn’t want to save lives, I shouldn’t have joined the Space Force.”

Barr sat in silence a few moments, shaking his head slowly. “On the other hand, why you? Perhaps some of the staff officers who like this idea so much should have the opportunity to come down and volunteer.”

Brett was touched. “Sir, were you supposed to encourage me to do this?”

Barr straightened, and then hunched forward, the resultant posture still not very military. “It occurred to me, but I’m not going to impute underhanded manipulations to our superiors. If they meant that they would have said so.”

Brett felt some of the tension go out of him. He wasn’t alone. The situation was still the same though. Staff officers from on board the flagship weren’t going to come down and take his place. Barr’s dry wit would become laugh out loud hilarious under easier circumstances.

“Colonel, here’s the thing. Sometimes superior officers consider me a pain for telling them stuff they don’t want to hear. But I always figured I wasn’t being a wiseass for fun, I was doing it for the good of the Space Force.”

“Mostly you were.”

Brett went on, “And if I had an attitude, I made up for it by doing what was right, no matter what the cost.”

Barr started to open his mouth, but Brett continued. “It’s too late for me to start being pleasant, so either I do this or admit I’m a fraud.”

Barr repeated, “You don’t have to do this. I’m not even sure there’s any point. How will you learn anything? Will you give us valid information once you’ve been infected? Will we know to trust you even if you do?”

Brett shrugged. “I’m sure intelligence will have fun making up their minds about relying on my data. The upside is huge. They might learn more if they find I’m brainwashed.”

Despite his brave words, Brett now had two problems. Most of the Oceanians seemed to live normal lives, but he would be of great strategic value to control. If they didn’t consume him, interrogation by his own side lay in his future.