InterstellarNet: Origins (15 page)

“The so-called implosion would be better described as the Lalande Expansion. Leo fuel cells made transportation much less expensive and the reduced demand for petroleum made petrochemicals that much cheaper. Introduction of Leo fuel cells was a
good
thing. After a bit of a hiccough, the global economy benefited enormously. Only the petroleum companies thought otherwise.”

That was a sanitized version of history, at least the history Justin had been taught.

The first year of the Implosion, only about a million fuel-cell vehicles rolled off the assembly lines. That—and the handwriting on the wall—hit the petroleum market like an average recession. But unlike a general recession, demand kept dropping as more and more fuel-cell cars hit the streets. Long before internal-combustion cars became a rarity, petroleum prices hit a bottom from which they never recovered.

Decades of conspiracy theories notwithstanding, petroleum turned out to be a commodity controlled by supply and demand after all. Economies collapsed across the Middle East. Disruptions almost as severe wracked Norway, Russia, Venezuela, and the other big oil exporting countries.

Hardly hiccoughs.

The last thing Justin wanted was to argue, especially in a social setting. Intellectual honesty or family solidarity—or maybe a touch of his father’s contrariness—left Justin no choice. “Some might emphasize other consequences.”

Blind chance had just wrought simultaneous conversational lulls throughout the pub, and that polite contradiction seemed to hang out there. It was a
most
uncomfortable feeling. All eyes turned to the debaters.

“What if ISI’s labs had invented the new fuel cells?” LaPointe demanded. “I suppose you would still have favored suppressing that technology.”

That scenario was hardly analogous. “The protocol says nothing about indigenous research, whether at ISI or any other human institution. The ICU is chartered to consider unintended consequences from importing
alien
technology. Something fully developed out there that might be revolutionary or disruptive here.” Like decent fuel cells turned out to be.

“I see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” LaPointe threw back his head and laughed. “Well, no matter. It’s always interesting to hear another opinion.”

Hardly opinion, Justin thought. ICU protocol was a matter of interplanetary law.

That ended the conversation. With a motion that was half a pat on the arm and half a nudge aside, the executive was past Justin and on his way to another knot of employees.

■□■

Seatback displays revealed the approaching L5 habitat, swelling gradually into a pilot’s-eye view of the docking.

Justin ignored the show.

He had awakened with an epiphany. Wayne LaPointe had not casually asked about ICU protocol at that long-ago party. The situation had been staged expressly to feel out Justin about joining the conspiracy.

Justin also had a sudden understanding, even sympathy, for Dad’s stubborn retention of an internal-combustion car. Guilt.

There was more than enough guilt to go around.

Justin was good at what he did, good enough to keep his job despite failing LaPointe’s test. So what? He was
also
so reliably naïve that no one had seen the need to fire him.

Had he not been so oblivious to the conspiracy all around him, Alicia might be alive today.

He could tell himself he had been only an innocent and overachieving twenty-five-year-old that night, but his conscience was not buying it.

He couldn’t bring back Alicia, but he could avenge her.

And somehow, damn it, he would!

9

Getting onto Wayne LaPointe’s schedule was normally a several-day project. Today, getting into the CEO’s office took Michael Zhang only minutes and a two-word voicemail. His two words:
Matthews knows.

“What does he know?” LaPointe demanded. He stood behind his massive oaken desk, leaning forward, forehead furrowed. “
How
does he know?”

Michael’s answers—with a few sensitive details omitted—did not make his boss look any happier.

“What do you suggest?” LaPointe finally asked.

Wasn’t it obvious? “An unfortunate accident.”

“Absolutely not. Matthews is too visible and well-connected. It would raise too many questions, especially so soon after his friend’s death.”

More questions than Matthews was raising already? “What would you do, Wayne?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.
Wunderkind
,” enunciated with a sneer, “is simply too late. You and I are about to become incredibly rich.

“If it comes to it, don’t you think we can buy a verdict?”

■□■

What was now the L5 habitat had once been an Earth-orbit crossing, arguably Earth-threatening, nickel-iron asteroid. It had been tracked for eighteen years before space mining techniques had advanced sufficiently to make it commercially exploitable.

In 2024, Solar Metals, Ltd. obtained the mining concession for the asteroid. In 2028, the worldlet was permanently and safely parked at the L5 point. That was as close to Earth as the UN would agree to aim such a massive object. By 2036, the once-solid asteroid had been reduced to a warren of played-out mining shafts.

In 2040, Solar Metals leased the husk of the asteroid to Interplanetary Resorts. Extraction technology was turned to hollowing out the asteroid; old mining tunnels amounted to a good start. The asteroid became a more-or-less 20-meter cylindrical shell balanced around its long axis and spun up to simulate one-tenth gee on its inner surface. The asteroid had just reopened for business as a training facility for would-be Belters and as an extreme resort.

When the shuttle docked, Secretary-General Ganes was in an abandoned stub of mine shaft, playing at being a colonist. Justin waited in the habitat’s observation lounge, which the resort’s management had discreetly cleared for the meeting.

Ganes did a double take as she and an aide walked into the room. “You remind me of your father when I first met him.”

Justin didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded.

The S-G’s assistant excused himself to leave Justin and the S-G completely alone.

Ganes was tall and stood stiffly. She had pinned up her hair, all silver, for the low-gee environment. She looked almost as old as Justin’s mother.

After a bit more awkward small talk, Ganes said, “Your mother suggested that I hear you out about something important. There aren’t many people whose advice I always take seriously. Your mother is one of them.” Ganes laughed. “Well, now she is. I like to think it’s mutual.

“Tell me, Justin. What’s on your mind?”

The lounge’s Spartan, light-weight furniture seemed somehow at odds with the celestial display outside the clear dome. Beyond the plasteel, a crescent Earth, a gibbous moon, and countless stars spun by each minute. The smartglass window eclipsed the sun on the same rotational schedule.

Justin took a deep breath. “I have reason to believe that Interplanetary Space Industries has found a way to circumvent the Protocol on Interstellar Technology Commerce.”

Her only answer was an arched eyebrow.

He explained how ISI, impersonating a Europa-based civilization, had ordered proscribed Centaur nanotech processes, prepaid with equally banned-for-export fusion technology.

She listened intently, whispering occasionally into her PDA. As he finished she settled gingerly—it was easy in the slight gravity to bounce—onto a chair. “It’s a nasty problem. The ‘Europans’ will obtain the nanotech information before the Centaurs can get our recall message. We can try to prosecute ISI, not that prosecution will be a very satisfying response. It would be far better to stop Europa base from receiving the signal, and I assume you’ve been thinking about that.” A fleeting smile. “I’m certain Dean is.”

“I don’t see how.” Admitting it pained Justin: He was letting Alicia down. “The receiver is directional, so we can’t jam the signal from anywhere that’s not out-system from Jupiter and close to the line between Jupiter and Alpha Centauri. The only transmitter anywhere near that position is the one I expect will be used to keep Earth from hearing the Centaur message.

“We have to assume that the interplanetary dish at Europa base is controlled by the conspirators. A radioed appeal for help to anyone on-base that the ICU or UNASA would trust would likely be intercepted and not delivered.

“And we can’t send in the cavalry soon enough to matter. At maximum acceleration it would take two months to get troops from Earth to Europa, and the Centaur message will likely have been received by then. I’m sorry,” Justin concluded, “but I don’t see any good options.”

“You don’t paint a pretty picture. I know this idea is draconian, and unfair to people who must mostly be innocent, but what about quarantining Europa? The military police we’d send would be empowered to impound all computers and data storage.”

Justin shook his head. “The bad guys will surely encrypt the information. We won’t recognize a copy of the Centaur message when we find it. And we’ll never find all copies, not with a standard one-terabyte cartridge being only about a cubic centimeter. Thousands of copies could be hidden outside the base, and the military can hardly search all of Europa. Besides, practical nanotech is
so
valuable the conspirators could pay enormous bribes to any troops sent to enforce a theoretical embargo.”

As depressing as this was, Justin added. “In any event, I expect the information will have been relayed from Europa long before the military can arrive. If the bad guys retransmit the Centaur message to a Belter habitat or to a ship in space we’d be none the wiser.”

“So there is no way to stop ISI from obtaining this knowledge.” It was a statement, not a question. For a long while, Ganes stared up at the stars. “I agree with everything you said. I don’t see a way, either. Still, I appreciate the warning.

“We’ve known for a long time that the Centaurs have nanotech, and the ICU regularly rejects trading for that knowledge. The records of our deliberations will show the countries and industries most opposed to importing advanced nanotech.” She sighed. “That will give us a good idea who to warn. I suspect it’s a long list.”

10

Nanotechnology:
the capability to build and control artifacts that are measured in, or have the ability to manipulate matter at, molecular dimensions. To accomplish macroscopically useful results, practical nanotech will require enormous numbers of devices. It is generally thought that mass production of nanotech devices will be accomplished via self-replication.

Of the known intelligent species, only the Centaurs claim to have mastered nanotech. The ICU has opted not to import this capability, fearing that a mature nanotechnology could render whole industries obsolete in a short time. While indigenous research on nanotech is legal and is being actively pursued, progress has been limited.

—Internetopedia

Hollywood Cemetery sits on a hill overlooking the James River, at the point where a massive jumble of rocks ended navigability. The cemetery was the final resting place of three presidents, if one included Jefferson Davis—and here in Richmond, the former capital of the Confederacy, people did. To the dismay of cemetery managers, the grounds had long been a popular rendezvous for students from the nearby campus of Virginia Commonwealth University, without much regard for the posted visiting hours.

Justin and Barbara had no association with VCU, nor did they seek nighttime solitude for the same reason as the amorous young couple that was out of sight but not always out of earshot. They sat leaning against the trunk of an ancient oak tree, near the iron-fenced enclosure of President Monroe’s crypt, the inky blackness of the James spread out before them. Justin had simply found this to be a quiet place for thinking.

Some new idea was called for. The best and brightest minds at the ICU had been unable to devise any way to counter ISI reception of the anticipated Centaur transmission.

Or more likely, judging by an urgent call from his mother, the in-progress Centaur transmission. Ten hours earlier, the suspicious object that the Russian space forces had first observed had changed trajectories. Military radars had since seen several course corrections that kept what could only be a spacecraft centered in the Earth-to-Alpha Centauri line of sight.

There were also the barest suggestions of a signal in the suspected frequency band. His father, once more consulting for the ICU, felt that the ISI spacecraft simply intercepted too little of the Centaur ’cast to calculate a precise cancellation signal. The inverted waveform was still effective enough that—had the ICU not known exactly what to listen for—nothing would have been detected. The all-but-canceled signal was entirely unintelligible.

Stars glittered overhead in the crystalline air of Indian summer. A near-Earth orbiting habitat arced across the sky. The moon beckoned.