Geosynchron (48 page)

"And how do you intend to get past all of the Thasselians? With
MultiReal?"

"They were all armed and on the lookout when I was there," said
Merri.

Natch considered this for a moment. "I can't use MultiReal to get
past the Thasselians," he said. "If I have to face Brone directly, choice
cycle against choice cycle ... I'm going to need all my strength. I
think-I think I'm going to need some help to get to him."

"We can help you," stated Magan. "I can get you a team of Council
special operatives to assist you through that building."

"Without being spotted by any of those forty or fifty Thasselian
devotees?" protested Petrucio. "It's going to have to be a pretty small team. The more people you send, the more difficult it'll be for them to
usher Natch through the Complex unnoticed."

"Then let me help," said Jara.

Everyone at the table seemed surprised to hear the words coming
from the fiefcorp master-herself included. But as all eyes turned to
Jara for an explanation, her mind appeared to catch up with her mouth.

"I'm an analyst by training," continued Jara. "Understanding
people's motivations, pushing people's buttons, getting them to act
how we want them to act-that's what I do. Put me and my team in a
room somewhere that we can communicate with Natch and Magan's
team. Give me eyes and ears on the ground. We'll find a way to get
those Thasselians out of the way. We'll clear a path for Natch to get to
Brone."

"Don't leave me on the sidelines," put in Petrucio. "I want a part
of this too."

Jara nodded enthusiastically. "Good, because I could use your
help."

Khann Frejohr wasn't the only skeptical face at the table, but he
was the only one who objected aloud. "How do you intend to sneak
Natch past four dozen armed guards with marketing and analysis?" he
said with a grimace.

"I'm not sure," replied Jara. "But give me forty-eight hours, and
I'll think of a plan. I've already got an idea. I'm just not sure the
Thassel Complex is wired for it." Her voice projected an impressive
amount of confidence, confidence that Magan knew was not misplaced.

"Don't you think we'd be better off with something a little more
... concrete?" said Frejohr.

"Probably," Jara retorted. "When you figure out a better plan, let
me know." The Speaker did not appear to be pleased with this answer.

"I trust her," said Natch.

All eyes in the room swiveled to look at the entrepreneur in surprise, nobody more surprised than Jara.

"Jara and I have had our differences," Natch explained with eyes
downcast. "But if anyone here is capable of finding the levers to move
those Thasselians, it's her. She understands human motivation. She
helped me figure out how to beat Captain Bolbund in the ROD coding
business. She scripted the demo I gave in Andra Pradesh that introduced MultiReal to the world. She assisted with the plan in getting
our fiefcorp to number one on Primo's. She can do it."

"Aha!" thundered Frederic Patel, leaping up from the table in
sudden fury. "So you admit it! You did use some kind of underhanded
scheme to push your way to the top of Primo's."

The entrepreneur shrugged, unconcerned with Frederic's wrath. "If
Magan can admit that the Council killed Marcus Surina," he said, "I
can admit I connived my way to the top of Primo's."

Magan never would have expected the murder of Marcus Surina to
make an effective punchline. But given the extremes of the situation
they were in, he shouldn't have been surprised to find the room
indulging in sudden laughter.

"So we have a plan for dealing with Brone and the release of Possibilities 2.0," said Quell. "Natch using MultiReal, assisted by a team of
Council operatives and Jara's analysis skills. That still leaves the
problem of Len Borda."

"That's a more straightforward problem," answered Magan.
"Negotiation is not an option, and the political solution has so far
yielded no results. We don't have much left aside from the military
option. My troops are already preparing to make a preemptive strike
against the bulk of Borda's army in Melbourne, sometime in the next
forty-eight to seventy-two hours. That should give us enough time to
prepare an effective offense and get the mission against Brone ready at
the same time."

"What if Borda goes after MultiReal first?" said the Islander.

"I don't think he will. He doesn't have the information about
Brone that we do. And he doesn't have the ability to get past those
Thasselians and take out Brone without MultiReal. He'll be a little
more cautious putting together his plans."

"Wait a second," interrupted a scowling Khann Frejohr. "You're
just going to launch a full-scale attack on Melbourne, with all of the
liabilities that the Blade listed earlier? A big deficit in numbers, poorer
equipment, and all the rest?"

Josiah Surina spoke. "We have already discussed plans with the
lieutenant executive for a joint Islander-connectible strike against
Borda."

"Plans? What plans?"

"I hope you'll understand," said Magan coldly, "if we choose not to
divulge military strategy in an open council, Khann."

With the change in topic to military matters, General Cheronna
seemed to suddenly be paying close attention to the discussion once
more. But he appeared to be more exasperated than enthusiastic. "I've
told you several times," said the general, even more florid than usual,
"I don't think Representative Triggendala's going to go along with
this."

"I've been talking with the old crone about it," put in Bali Chandler, casually studying his nails. "I think I've convinced her to come
around."

"Haven't you seen the protests on the street?" objected Cheronna.
"The marches? The drudge rants? They're picketing down there in
the City Center right now!" He pointed vehemently in the direction
of the large public square. "She'll get lynched by her own constituents if she goes along with this."

"I have to admit, Chandler," said Josiah, frowning, "that I'm not
so confident in our prospects of convincing Triggendala as you are.
And without her support ...

Chandler waved both of them off. "Come on. I've been working
with Trigg for ... more years than either of us would care to admit.
Decades. She likes to put up a front like this so she can save face. But
when your back's against the wall, Triggendala's dependable. I'm
telling you, Magan, the Islanders will march with the connectibles.
And as for her constituents ..." He made a wet razzing noise with his
lips. "Ficklest bunch of people on Earth. Trigg's got another three years
before her current term is up. They'll have forgotten all about this by
then, and she knows it."

General Cheronna seethed quietly. "I wish I had your confidence,"
he said.

"Don't we all," muttered Quell.

The table settled into a vibrant silence, everyone abuzz with their own
thoughts and plans. Magan Kai Lee surveyed the council he had assembled: fiefcorpers, analysts, engineers, Council officers, Islanders, and
one apprehensive-looking Pharisee who had not said a single word the
entire time but rather sat in his corner of the table and watched the
proceedings with wide eyes.

Then he gazed back at the mural of the Islander Band of Twelve.
Somehow, after this meeting he saw them in a different light. Grumble
and bicker and complain they might have done; mutter dissatisfaction
and disagreement with the Luddite principles of the Free Republic
behind each other's backs they most certainly did. But when it came
time for action, they had set aside their disagreements and put forward
a united face to the public. They had gotten the job done.

Magan rose. "I thank you all for your time and your input," he
said. "And now, I suggest you all take some rest. We've got a long
forty-eight hours ahead of us."

32

Targeted marketing didn't get much more targeted than this. Forty-six
known and suspected Thasselian devotees: some who had been sighted
by Natch in the hotel in Old Chicago, some who had been identified
by Merri and Petrucio, and some who had been observed loitering
around the Thassel Complex in recent days.

It felt like a final exam of Jara's skills at marketing and analysis.
The process was the same. Identify the audience; develop strategies to
motivate them towards a defined goal; execute the plan and track
results. Except here the goal wasn't to inspire a percentage of the audience to buy a specific bio/logic program. Here the goal was to keep one
hundred percent of the audience from noticing the infiltrator in their
midst, thereby preventing them from sounding the alarm, thereby
allowing Natch to sneak up on Brone and plug him with black code.

The stakes: not fiefcorp shares, not Primo's ratings, not increased
revenue-but possibly the continued survival of civilization itself.

You wanted responsibility, Jara reminded herself. You wanted a place in
the game. Well, this is the game.

The elevator carrying Jara, Petrucio, Merri, Benyamin, Robby, Rey
Gonerev, and the Council tactical systems expert came to a halt at the
top floor of the Tio Van Jarmack building in Manila's City Center.
They stepped off the elevator and walked down a short corridor lined
with armed Defense and Wellness Council officers. Every door along
the way had been barricaded shut with thick metal plates. Jara
frowned. It was odd enough to walk down a hallway and have Council
officers saluting her as she passed; the fact that she was comforted by
their presence made the experience positively surreal.

"This room should have everything you need," said Gonerev as
they walked through the double doors at the end of the hallway.

Robby Robby whistled. Jara didn't know what function the room
normally served, but Magan's people had managed to turn it into a
state-of-the-art war room in less than twenty-four hours. The two long
walls of the rectangular room were covered floor to ceiling with
viewscreens. There was a sturdy-looking oak conference table, a
number of both upright and reclining chairs, a covered balcony overlooking the City Center for that occasional ten-minute break, a darkened alcove with a cot for longer stretches of rest, and a counter arrayed
with fresh fruit, power snacks, and three different brands of nitro. Jara
thought that last part was a nice touch.