Tales of Chills and Thrills: The Mystery Thriller Horror Box Set (7 Mystery Thriller Horror Novels) (153 page)

What would that look like in practice? Could it give the Federalist Worlds an advantage? Beware of overconfidence.

Brett found he only had time to skim the other sections – he would have to rely on Williams to brief him after they landed. There wouldn’t even be time to meet Williams before the shuttle trip.

Despite the dubious aspects of his mission, it would feel good to breath fresh air again, and walk somewhere with trees and no walls. No claustrophobe could ever join the Space Force, and his time as a lieutenant had taught him to be grateful to have the little cabin all to himself. Yet soon he would be able to stride straight in one direction as long as he wished.

The shuttle bay had more open space than most areas of the ship. Brett stood on a catwalk above the Firefly. He would step down directly into the passenger seats in the rear of the cockpit. The body of the craft was shaped like an isosceles triangle, with an aerodynamically shaped needle nose, and it was held in place by scaffolding, although the wheels rested firmly on the floor. The crew bubble, shaped to minimize atmospheric friction, currently stood open. The pilot was doing piloty countdown things. There was no copilot in the seat next to him for this routine trip. The two passenger seats were in the rear of the bubble.

Brett liked the effect the sleek black tiling created, as if warning bystanders not to mess with the Firefly. The color was counterintuitive given the concern about radiation, but surfaces that absorbed light also radiated fastest. Since the heat would come from friction rather than radiation, black was cooler.

Brett had a few moments to study Ambassador Williams as he crossed the shuttle bay. Certainly over fifty, thin but not athletic, too dark black hair probably dyed.

“Good afternoon, Major, um, Johnson?”

Ambassadors were probably supposed to be good at names, but maybe he wanted to save the diplomatic skills for the Oceanians instead of wasting them on the help.

“A pleasure to meet you, Ambassador,” Brett said, stretching the truth only slightly. He was pleased the man was here so they could get started. When the other man made no move to walk down the steps, Brett led the way. The seats were a little cramped, but well designed for comfort. He helped the other strap into his seat so the pilot didn't need to come back into the passenger compartment.

A cheerful voice came from the front seat, “Launching in five seconds. Three, two one.”

The ground cracked open under the center of the craft, and the gap grew as the floor slid away in two sections. The scaffolding released them, and they fell out into space.

It took a moment to get used to free fall. To avoid vertigo, Brett closed his eyes and didn’t think of them as falling. Doors opened on the outer surface of a rotating sphere, near the ‘equator.’ The Firefly kept going in the same direction as that particular part of the ship had been moving at the moment of release. The shuttle bay doors rotated away from them.

Brett glanced at the man next to him. Space sickness didn't seem imminent, but distraction might be in order. They had things to discuss anyway. “Ambassador Williams, I'm Major Brett Johnson. This is my second campaign in a twenty year commitment. I spent seven years on Roundhouse as a medical officer, and was transferred to military intelligence when Oceania and the ability to understand their technology became a high priority. Although they'll know I'm there because I'm the closest thing we have to a specialist in their technology, I'm still presenting myself as a medical officer.”

Brett didn't really feel like telling the ambassador how he had earned his Silver Sun on Roundhouse, or what it had cost him. As it turned out he didn't have to. The ambassador didn't ask questions, or talk about his own qualifications, or even dive right into the briefing.

Williams spoke in a tone higher than before, unpleasantly like whining, “I don't see why they assigned a military man to this mission. We're here to save lives, not end them.”

Brett kept silent for the space of a breath, not letting the civilian get to him. “I'm a doctor, and hurting people isn’t my job, so maybe you could brief me as one man of peace to another?”

The mission would be easier if he got along with his new boss. Brett did not say, “I'm a doctor, not trained to kill, but in your case I'll make an exception.” He refrained from explaining that he had indeed lost several patients, but saved a great many more, and didn't enjoy talking about the former.

Williams' face reddened. “People talk like the Oceanians have a contagious disease. If you think what they've done to themselves is wrong, that's your business. We're here to negotiate with them, not judge them.”

Where had that come from? What had Williams been told about Brett? The Senator hadn’t wanted a doormat for Williams, or he would have chosen someone else. “The Space Force doesn’t judge people. We don’t even kill them without good reason, unless we’re having a very bad day.”

The Ambassador replied, “Silly remarks aside, it’s not for you to decide if we have good reason to kill.”

True enough, but the opening implication that the Space Force killed capriciously, and the accusation without evidence that Brett would be judgmental rankled. Still, getting down to cases beat futile arguing. “I'll keep that in mind. What do I need to know to avoid giving accidental offense?”

“Their ancestors were English speaking people from Old Earth.”

Of course they were. The Firestorm had been built and crewed on Old York, as part of their contribution to the Federalist Space Marines. The Firestorm and her sister ships were chosen partly because the common language would make occupation of the planet a little easier should it be necessary. So far Williams had told Brett nothing he didn't already know. Patronizing Brett – or concealing ignorance?

Ambassador Williams warmed slightly to his theme, and his tone became less grating, “The embassy is in Landfall, the capital city of Oceania. For the most part they developed in isolation from the rest of humanity until a few hundred years ago. There was a wave of new immigration when they made themselves a legal haven for nanotechnological research, but English is still the dominant language. Many unique cultures have developed over thousands of years, so it's better to just be polite than to try to cram too much into your head. They know we're from another world. Just be polite and do what everyone else does.”

Not too helpful, but Brett didn't feel like trying to cross examine him. The pilot announced maneuvers, giving him an excuse to end the conversation. The shuttle braked like a rocket while shedding enough velocity to enter the atmosphere. Brett’s stomach did a flip-flop as the gyroscope reoriented them. Now for all intents and purposes they rode in a high flying airplane with mediocre aerodynamics. Brett’s legs tensed impatiently in anticipation of landing. When the craft finally wheeled to a stop he removed his harness, but his legs buckled momentarily from sitting too long. He grabbed his little duffle bag and climbed onto the metal catwalk that had rolled up to the Firefly. It had been so long since he’d breathed un-recycled air that the sweetness hit him like a blow. Brett could faintly smell the oceans for which the planet was named. The base of his brain didn't know what to make of the alien biosphere smells which mixed with those of Earth descended flora and fauna. His face stretched into a huge smile without his realizing it.

To his right he could see the city of Landfall. The skyscrapers wore a different shape than he was used to, with rounded instead of rectangular edges. The buildings were colored in greens and blues and browns, and sometimes a light color like white sand. To either side the city was surrounded by beaches and ocean.

To his left he couldn’t see as much, since the elevation was higher than his. Some of the trees and vegetation resembled home. Mixed in were some bright blue treelike shapes. He couldn’t make out all the details in the distance, but the trunks looked as blue as the tops.

He now had to prevent a war. Or maybe that wasn’t his problem. Williams could handle it. Only Brett was starting to understand the Senator’s lack of confidence in the fellow.

Chapter 5

To say Ambassador Nocker didn’t look a day over two hundred would be a polite lie, Brett decided. There was something creepy about the way he moved, without the normal pauses in the natural rhythm of movement, and with brief hesitations where none should be. His assistant, Ames, seemed normal enough, and didn’t appear to find anything uncomfortable about the proximity. All four of them wore suits and ties, an ancient fashion of formal dress which created a touchstone between cultures evolved separately for thousands of years since leaving Old Earth. Only the waiter who helped Nocker seat himself was dressed Oceanian style. His suit was blue and white, and had curves instead of lines and corners.

Brett and Williams stood until their hosts seated themselves. The four of them sat on a balcony, which offered a view of both the city of Landfall and the white sandy beach adjacent to it. The noise of the sea was audible when the conversation paused. A thin screen enclosed them, although there were no insects visible.

From a distance, only the height of the buildings pointed to a technological civilization. Their coloration contrived to blend in with the sea and sand and sky. Much of the traffic in the streets consisted of pedestrians – the transportation network lay underground. Brett had never seen an advanced city with a more rural appearance.

Oceanians did well by their guests. The four of them had the balcony to themselves. There was certainly something alluring about the planet, despite what dwelt at its heart. Ambassador Nocker ordered red wine. His younger companion ordered the juice of an unfamiliar berry whose name Brett didn’t quite catch. Williams had coffee. Brett asked for a beer, since nobody else had ordered food. It was too early for dinner, but it seemed a shame to reserve this spot just to sit around and talk.

The man across the table from him spoke. “Ambassador Williams and Major Johnson, it is a pleasure to meet you. I’m Cory Ames. Allow me to introduce you to my boss, Ambassador Nocker. Given the immediacy of our mutual … problems, and the time lost by the replacement of your predecessors, I’m sure we can quickly develop a working relationship.”

Brett thought ‘quickly’ sounded promising, but there wasn’t too much time to be spent on relationship developing. Cory was a little overenthusiastic, but likable anyway. The young man was of average height, only slightly overweight but with a build that spoke of soft living – physically anyhow. He had wavy brown hair, an expressive face, and a ready smile.

Brett swallowed beer out of a frosted mug. The underlying nutty flavor was new to him. He wasn’t sure what to call it next time he wanted some, but this didn’t seem the moment to ask.

The silence stretched, long enough for Brett to wonder if he was the one expected to respond. Then Ambassador Williams replied, “I’m happy we could arrange this informal meeting, and I have strong hopes it will be more productive than the larger and more formal ones between our two governments earlier. Perhaps we can start with those immigrants to Oceania who now wish to return home? And I very much hope success there will lead to a broad reduction of tensions. The very foundation of the Federalist system is a belief in the possibility of mutual cooperation between very different cultures.”

Nobody laughed out loud, so apparently this display of windbaggery wasn’t extraordinary for a diplomat. Could the problem be as simple as that?

A white beard concealed most of Nocker’s face. What lay hidden beneath? Although they had been told the overmind neither controlled nor wished to control the government of Oceania, it certainly had hidden desires and capabilities. If they were negotiating with an inhuman entity masked by a human government, it was unlikely to be dismantled without military action.

When Nocker spoke his voice was dry and hoarse. “I’m pleased to meet you. Have you enjoyed your visit to Oceania so far?”

Williams hadn’t left the embassy since they landed, so leaving the question to him would create awkwardness. Eager though Brett felt to get down to business at last, five minutes wouldn’t matter after all these months.

“I haven’t got the hang of your transportation system yet, so most of what I’ve seen is within walking distance of the embassy.”

The old man asked him, “And what do you think?”

“At first glance your planet is very primitive, except for the height of the buildings, and a primitive technology couldn’t feed a large city like Landfall.”

“Perhaps you’re used to more vehicle traffic above ground?”

Brett nodded. “Anyway, it’s a little eerie after awhile. I started noticing how doors and elevators open before people walk up to them, and the same with those capsule things.”

“Transit pods, yes. They’re usually summoned and directed with nanotechnology, but they do have manual controls for children.”

Which would explain why the controls were around Brett’s waist level. He might develop a stoop if he took the time to learn to use them. Anyway, enough small talk.

“I’ll be able to enjoy looking around more once we’re making progress. I’m sure you still remember the sticking points from the last round of talk?”

Williams nodded. “Some of the concerns posed by your government seem inconsistent to us, but we’ve done our best. Let’s start with people from the Federalist Worlds who’ve come to Oceania. Since you have training in neurology and psychology, you’ll be able to verify that those who choose to stay have not been brainwashed, and those who choose to return have not been conditioned to attempt to manipulate your political system.”

Brett shifted his weight. The ornate wooden carvings on the back of each chair were better to look at than lean on. At least the seats had cushions.

Nocker’s words came a little slow, the movement of his mouth not quite as expected. It was more than the slightly lilting Oceanian accented English that wasn’t hard for someone born on Old York to follow. Was anybody home, or was he talking with a shell? Brett’s research indicated that the nanotechnology had a short transmission range without a booster cap, only a couple of feet. Without the cap, the brain would have had to be conditioned to counterfeit normal consciousness when not being used as a node of a network. Brett repressed a shiver and made his face a polite diplomatic mask. He knew nothing for certain. It did occur to him that the two negotiators might have come without their booster caps out of courtesy to their guests, or to mislead them.

“I’m sure Major Johnson would be pleased to examine any willing subjects.”

The briefest speech Williams had made all day, and it gave Brett an opening. “That’s true, so we’ve made a start. I would love to wait for the broad reduction in tensions to take hold, but Mr. Ames mentioned immediacy. The biggest concern of the Federalist Worlds is the overmind, and the nanotechnology that holds it together – and helps reproduce overminds elsewhere. We haven’t been able to reach agreement with you on the amount of danger posed to humanity at large by your technology, and probably won’t. Given the situation above our heads, only one resolution is possible.”

Brett leaned back, finding the spines of the Chinese dragons carved behind him were actually well positioned to accommodate him. At first he thought he had done well, drawing attention to the massive firepower in orbit which made Oceanian yielding inevitable, without being explicit and making them lose face. Even the awkward silence that followed didn’t prove him wrong. Some things had to be said.

It was a relief when Williams spoke again. “We’re not trying to pretend you’ve made concessions which you haven’t, or bludgeon you into making them by demanding them repeatedly. Since this is a key issue, and no progress is being made, perhaps we can approach it from another angle. Hypothetically, what assistance would you need to rebuild your infrastructure after abandoning nanotechnology? If you’re willing to discuss that, you can ask us a couple of hypothetical questions as well. We’ll do our best to answer, or at least be embarrassed about evading them.”

Brett turned towards Nocker, hoping the Oceanian Ambassador was now considering how, instead of whether, the necessary could be accomplished.

The old man leaned forward as if in deep thought, pressing two fingers to his forehead. Williams shrank away as he did so, although the table was between them. Coming on top of some of the things Williams had said about tolerance, this seemed a bit much. No evidence supported the idea of danger through personal contact.

Nocker spoke as if he hadn’t noticed Williams’ movement, but Brett didn’t believe it.

“That’s such a big question; I don’t know where to start.”

Brett prepared for longwinded dodging, but Nocker spoke plainly. “Maybe our medical system. Someday nanotechnology may be able to do all sorts of repairs inside the body, but right now it can’t. Most of our medical techniques are similar to yours.”

This seemed too easy. Brett’s attention sharpened, as his instincts told him a riposte was forthcoming.

Nocker continued in a deprecatory tone, as if apologizing for the crudity of their technology. “Once in a while nanomachines can block a capillary and kill a brain tumor, but I’m sure your invaluable help will compensate for any loss there. They can’t even reproduce themselves. They are assembled in vats by much larger nanomachines that are too large and delicate to travel through the bloodstream.”

The latter fact was basic, though some still doubted it, or suspected more sophisticated technology was being hidden.

Nocker looked slightly surprised, as if he had just thought of something. “Of course they do provide twenty-four hour internal monitoring. And they can sometimes be used to get the brain to modify involuntary functions, lower blood pressure and such.”

Brett had to say something, Nocker made change sound impossible. “Yeah, it won’t be easy, but –

Nocker’s voice was now so gentle and contemplative it didn’t sound like he was interrupting Brett. “We’d have to get people in the habit of regular checkups. Some people don’t like them, even in the Federalist Worlds. Even training doctors to perform them might be a challenge.”

This time Brett managed to interject, “Don’t tell me every doctor on this planet uses nanotechnology?”

“Oh no. That would make the situation difficult. A few don’t. Some of them are part of isolated religious groups, who wouldn’t at first be pleased to hear they were going to help rebuild a planetary medical system, or perhaps even have the ability to do so. I’m sure you could help persuade and train them, though there wouldn’t be enough.”

Brett replied flatly, “We would import more. And I’m sure some of your nanotech trained physicians would adapt more quickly than most, and could help train the others.”

Nocker nodded. “Quite right. Your faith in us is touching, and I hope quite justified. Of course, some of our doctors would be required to transcribe the medical records of an entire planetary population. Even after that, a few doctors may have trouble getting used to not just having the case history of a patient instantly available in their mind. I’m afraid there may be a few errors at first. How do you prevent those where electronic records are widely used?”

“They do happen, but in the vast majority of cases -”

The old man nodded vigorously, contrasting with the arthritic walk seen before. “Just so. I’m sure the difference in Oceanian life expectancies and those on the most technologically advanced planets in the Federalist Worlds isn’t due to that. Inadequate medical care for some of the poor may be part of it as well. Which brings up economics. Most of our exports are based on technologies developed by the overmind. We’ll still have those even if we accept your proposal, but how will you help us keep ahead of our competitors as they advance?”

A breeze blew through the screens. Brett was left twisting in the wind for only a few moments. Ambassador Williams said, “Maybe we’d better come back to this.”

Brett didn’t really have an answer, so he let the subject change. He listened with half an ear as Nocker spoke about corporations which were lobbying the Federalist Grand Council, and had several former employees working on the personal staff of Senator Peterson. He also spoke about a deep-seated fear of the hive mind that he claimed had infected the Federalist Worlds even prior to the fiasco on Roundhouse. Nocker also argued that all previous attempts to suppress new technologies for the hoped for good of society had failed. It was clear Williams wasn’t getting through. If indeed Williams himself understood the urgency of what he had to communicate. At last both diplomats returned to the only concrete subject they had discussed: the former citizens of the Federalist Worlds who now wished to leave Oceania.

Brett could see children playing on the beach, next to a sky blue building shaped like a short cylinder with a dome for a roof. Brett had sharp eyes, but at this distance he couldn’t be quite sure the boy in the blue bathing suit had squirted the girl in the red bikini with a water gun. He was probably around five, and she might have been twelve or thirteen, but she made a show of attempting to flee.

The cost and difficulty of replacing nanomachines with safer technology might be greater than Brett had believed, but the dangers were still there. It had to be done.

Nocker began winding the meeting down. “Future meetings may be easier once your government is comfortably at rest about the returnees. While you complete your own investigation, perhaps we can confine your initial introduction to Oceanian society to one major party for now.”

Brett overheard the details with a fragment of his attention. They were invited to an embassy party in Landfall, the capital city of Oceania. It would introduce them to Oceanian society, and since ballroom dancing had its origins in Old Earth culture, it was a good initial point of contact. Brett wasn’t enthusiastic, but he knew that in a couple of weeks when the time arrived, he would be sick of reviewing his predecessor’s notes but not quite ready to start retesting and re-interviewing people. Besides the celebration of the Oceanian holiday Herbirthday a couple of weeks afterwards, that seemed to be the extent of their social calendar. Williams was as eager as Brett to avoid too many social engagements, although perhaps for different reasons.