Plague Wars 06: Comes the Destroyer (5 page)

Reaching out smoothly, she accessed biosensors in her skin that confirmed the taste of his DNA. Not that she expected anything different, but it was as much a habit as glancing at a face would be for a normal human. “What was the meaning of the body scan room?”

“It’s a precaution our counterintelligence has put in place, and the rules are ‘no exceptions,’ but when I approved the order I didn’t mean it to apply to you.”

“But why is it there at all?” she asked.

“There is a growing anti-Blend movement on Earth. Conspiracy theorists and unfortunate minorities of the general populace are convinced there are secret agents of the Meme among us – Blends that are very hard to detect.”

“There almost certainly are,” Rae responded, and she could see the surprise on Absen’s face, mirrored on the visages of his steward and the two functionaries. “What does it matter?”

“Perhaps we should continue this conversation elsewhere?” Absen gestured back toward the corridor.

“Before or after the scan?” She couldn’t resist the little jab.

“No scan needed, although I would appreciate you submitting to it afterward. The security people really want to baseline their machine against your known Blend body.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Come on. The meeting’s not for a couple of hours. I wanted to talk to you first.” Without waiting, he turned on his heel and walked away.

Rae sent updated instructions to her shuttle and followed. When the two civilian escorts made to come along, the Admiral waved them off. Chief Steward Tobias reinforced his boss’ instructions with a stern look, and then brought up the rear. Soon the craggy admiral and the tall Blend matched stride down the corridor together. This time they bypassed the scan and entered a well-appointed conference room with an unfamiliar logo on its wall opposite the main display screen.

“Something new?” Rae asked as she reached for a pot of coffee on a tray to pour herself a cup. The smell tantalized her; it never came out quite right aboard a Meme ship.

“What do you think? It’s not official. Call it a tryout. A rough draft.”

Upon the traditional shape of a knight’s shield was painted a stylized blue-green Earth, the Moon with a symbolic orbit ring, and a spaceship resembling
Orion
lifting off in heroic scale. Deep navy blue formed the background, with a sprinkling of stars.

“Hm. Needs work, but I’m not the best judge of art. What’s it for?”

“A new organization. Something to bring the world together. A true multinational force in space. It has the Free Communities Council’s blessing.”

“What about greater China and the Neutral States?” Rae sipped her coffee with evident satisfaction.

Absen poured one of his own. “Right now the FC owns almost every fusion engine on the planet. The Neutral States and China are being hopelessly left behind in space. They’ll have to join, just so they have a seat at the table. But it doesn’t matter. If I can pull this off, no one will own us. We’ll be a separate entity, at least in theory.”

Rae nodded. “And you think you can slowly make that fiction into fact.”

“Yes.”

“The non-FC nations won’t be happy. It still looks like an FC power grab.”

Absen nodded. “I’m well aware of that. I also know they won’t have much choice. Faced by the option of leaving the FC with all the goodies or being part of the process, I believe they will want their people in place to remain in place. The key is guaranteeing that we are not just an extension of the FC, or of anyone at all.”

“Pretty ambitious. What are you calling this new organization?” She chuckled. “Star Fleet?”

Absen’s smile turned wry. “That one’s taken. But close.” He took a deep breath. “I’m calling it EarthFleet. To remind people of why it’s there. Not to explore stars, but to defend Earth. To defend our home.”

“I like it.” Her smile was genuine. “Is that why you called me here?”

“Yes, actually. I was hoping to get you on board with it. Hoping you will back me up in the meeting.”

“I am. I will. It’s brilliant,
in theory
. In practice…good luck.” She raised her cup in toast.

“Thanks. A moment. Tobias, lock this room down, will you?” Once that was done, and no one but the two of them and Absen’s bodyguard remained, he went on. “So, tell me more about these possible spies.”

“I have no idea. I haven’t wasted any effort on even finding any out. I just assume that some might be here.”

“How? As I understand it, the scout ship we beat was the first Meme visitor in four thousand years.”

“Perhaps. The Empire also sends out tiny seedships, with one individual in each, somnolent between the stars. These auto-land on any world with higher life, and the Meme blends with whoever it can find, usually some kind of creature with sufficient dexterity and brain to make rudimentary tools. Then the Blend begins to build a civilization and advance it rapidly, or take over what is already there. If it finds something it cannot handle, it remains hidden.”

Absen gently rapped the table with his knuckles in thought. “So we could have some among us – even in positions of power.”

“Could? Most definitely. Some of my siblings might even have survived the cataclysm that wiped the rest out. Because Blends are long-lived, they may have incorporated themselves into the populace and been here all this time.”

“Yet you don’t seem worried.”

Rae smiled. “My research indicates that blended Meme always go native, especially with no contact with the Empire. Life as a Blend is simply too seductive – the pleasures of the senses, the natural desire for power – and within a few hundred years out of contact, beings such as they will not want to return to the fold.”

“So if there are any, they will long ago have adopted their own agenda.”

“Correct. And they won’t want the Empire to win any more than we do, for then they would be found out and subjugated. Every one of the pure form Meme, no matter how low, is automatically superior in their hierarchy to any Blend.”

“So they have a hard class division within the Empire. Pure forms, Blends, and...”

“And the lower creatures. Masters, overseers, and slaves, in common parlance. Meme that blend step down permanently, and they can never become pure again.”

Absen stroked his chin. “Yet you chose to do it.”

She nodded, and smiled wider. “Yes, I did.”

“I’m finally beginning to see, I think, what that meant. I wondered at first whether you were biding your time, hoping to regain some kind of position within the Empire. Then, when you helped us defeat the scout ship, I changed my mind…and now I realized that to the Meme, you sold out. You’re a traitor, no matter what you do.”

“I would have thought that was obvious,” she replied a bit testily.

“Perhaps it is, but I prefer to look beyond the obvious.”

“In this case, things are just as they seem.”

Absen stared at her. “No, they never are. But I do trust you, which is a different thing entirely.”

A chill went through Rae then, and the constant fear returned: fear for her unnatural children and the response they would provoke if they were ever fully understood. A race of superior human beings, a leap forward, not of evolution, but by design – the dream of many, made real not by the race of mankind, but by an alien intelligence. No matter how benevolent, some would fear, and want to destroy what they feared.

“No one is entirely free of secrets, Admiral. Not me, not you, not the people you work with. Life is full of them. The best we can do is
decide
to trust each other.” Rae smiled, a heartbreaking sad thing.

Absen’s eyes veiled, and she knew that his trust extended only so far. Perhaps he thought she was trying to manipulate him.

“So, bottom line,” he went on after a moment, “there’s no point in hunting down unknown Blends.”

Rae rubbed her face with one hand. “I think that it might be interesting and useful to identify them if you can, but after hundreds or thousands of years, they will just be people – long-lived and wise, but no longer unique, now that humanity has gained effective immortality. Perhaps the best thing would be to quietly put out the word that the ‘powers that be’ do not care, and would welcome their help – if they exist.”

Absen nodded. “I’ll spread that word. Quietly. Now, let’s talk about our strategy for the meeting.”

Absen placed himself at the head, the prototype EarthFleet coat of arms above him on the wall. He could smell the paint among the closeness of packed bodies in the room, and made a note to have someone look at the ventilation. The engineers still hadn’t quite gotten everything worked out.

To his right, Rae attracted attention despite the conservative dress and manner, in this case probably just because of her unique semi-alien status. Absen was happy she did not seem to be wearing perfume. The woman was distracting enough without enhancements.

To Absen’s left sat Australia’s Senior Under-Minister of Research and Production James Ekara. He knew the slim dapper man was the true force behind the figurehead of his appointed minister, and a member of that nation-continent’s secret shadow government, the Committee of Nine.

Secret to the general populace, anyway.

In the last year, Ekara had been responsible for an enormous increase in the Free Communities’ ground-based space and weapons production capacity. He would be instrumental in the execution of what they decided today. Probably only the Third Reich’s Albert Speer had ever had as much authority over the entire economy of a nation, really a multinational effort, as he. Beneath the veneer of its democratic system, and guided at the top by General Nguyen’s unwavering hand, Australia had become the coordinating arsenal of the Free Communities, and thus, of Earth.

Absen still couldn’t figure out how he felt about working with Psychos like Ekara and Nguyen. Or ‘Outliers,’ as the functional ones liked to be called. Chaplain Forman, his psychology advisor, had told him she had identified at least of dozen mental sub-groupings of these aberrations, but the psychobabble had gone over his head. As far as he was concerned, anyone with a compromised conscience fit the description, and made him very nervous.

But Markis had assured him that Ekara was vital to the war effort, hyper-competent, and would cooperate. Absen didn’t have the luxury of choosing his tools today.

The other civilian leader present from the Free Communities was US Special Envoy Travis Tyler, a rangy hard-edged man with the youthful body and old eyes of the rejuvenated, a look not so different from Absen’s own. While America’s economy no longer held the top spot even in the FC, his nation still led the world in the two vital fields of nanotech and human-interfaced cybertech, as well as remaining one of the world’s few with nuclear arms.

From the Neutral States, Minister of Economy Annika Skolbourg and Russian Minister of the Interior Viktor Kredenko sat to Rae Denham’s right. While the latter nation was technically part of the NS, like America it held a special place with its nuclear arsenal and its cyborg program derived from the Septagon Shadow debacle.

The third bloc was represented by Secretary General Chang Jiaoshi, at the opposite end of the table. Unlike the others, not only was this woman high up in the economic hierarchy of her nation, but actually held the number two position in China. Beside her, sitting stiffly in full dress uniform, was General Park Song-muk, whose title translated as something like “Premier of the Council of Ministers for Production.” It didn’t matter; as a North Korean, he only had a seat as a Chinese ally, a fiction of binationalism. In reality, of course, he was a vassal.

Ironically, even the North Korean economy had become minimally healthy, with a lot of Chinese production capacity outsourced to them, and Absen had read reports that said their leaders were turning a blind eye to Eden Plague carriers. As long as they got their luxury goods and kept power, they did not seem to care.

Each individual and bloc represented here oversaw tremendous production power, and thus, each of them would be vital to building Earth and its defenses – and the birth of EarthFleet itself.

Absen opened with, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the
Orion
station.” It still pained him to refer to his ship this way, but she would never be a vessel of war again with the pounding she had taken. After making the introductions, he opened with, “This meeting is taking place on neutral ground in hopes that it will minimize political problems and foster economic cooperation among our various entities.”

“Just what entity do you represent, Admiral?” Kredenko asked with characteristic bluntness. “You are an American, no? Your soldiers and underlings are largely Free Communities citizens. We have all been looking at the heraldry so prominently displayed above your head, and reports from loyal Russians in space tell of the rumors going around. It appears this ‘EarthFleet’ will just be an extension of Free Community power, which is obviously controlled by the U.S.” He turned to glare at his American counterpart, Travis Tyler.

Absen began to respond but Tyler held up his hand. “Minister, the time for complaints and endless political bickering is over. In fact, time is what we do not have. Here are the facts. America is no longer a superpower. Not in the old sense. Because of the tremendous damage we sustained from rogue nuclear weapons, our GDP is lower than that of China, Australia, South Africa, Germany, Japan, even possibly Russia. We are wholeheartedly part of the Free Communities and believe that only with their collective leadership can Earth’s resources be mobilized sufficiently to win when the Destroyer arrives. The Cold Wars are over.”

“So,” Kredenko retorted, “if not America, then the FC of which you are a part will be in charge – and sitting here at this table, four of eight are FC citizens.”

“I am not,” Rae said mildly.

“You blended with an American!”

“And your government has spent the last few years claiming I am wholly alien,” she retorted. “You can’t have it both ways. No, Minister, I stand above humanity’s politics. Actually,” she went on, her voice rising and leaking contempt, “I
created
a lot of your politics over the past four thousand years. The idea that Raphael, a being millennia old, would care about the petty squabbles of your childish nations is patently ridiculous.”