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Authors: David Marusek

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The third villain was Byron Fagan—Dr. Fagan—the owner of the bastion of aff mollycoddling, Roosevelt Clinic, where Fagan’s zombied mentar, Concierge, had almost succeeded in murdering Eleanor’s daughter. Fagan was a tall man, towering a good meter over Meewee. He was pleasant enough, until you contradicted him. Then he treated you like an errant employee. Meewee felt physically affronted by the man, even via holopresence.

The rest of the board members projected into place, either by proxy or holopresence: Trina Warbeloo, board secretary; Zoranna Alblaitor, Andrea Tiekel, and the others. Only twelve of the thirteen votes were represented. Jerry Chapwoman had recently resigned and the board was still interviewing replacement candidates. Meanwhile, Meewee represented both Heliostream and Starke Enterprises and had two votes. Cabinet took up its usual observer position at the foot of the table but didn’t say anything.

After Andrea’s recent bid to purchase Heliostream, Meewee wasn’t so sure where her loyalties lay. He watched her for clues. She did seem unusually chummy with the Gang of Three, but she greeted Meewee warmly as well.

After the board worked through old business, the first item of new business was a motion by Jaspersen: “I move that we add eight little words to our mission statement, to read: ‘The GEP shall resettle humans outside Sol System in exchange for enforceable title and user rights to real estate on Earth,
and to pursue space-based for-profit industries
.’ ”

Fagan seconded, and Meewee, as board chair, reluctantly opened the floor for discussion. Jaspersen jumped in immediately. “Before you bitch and moan about how this will distract us from our primary mission,” Jaspersen’s balloon told him, “let me assure you that the opposite is true. As I’m sure you’re aware, the Chinas have recently announced their own extensive Near-Earth colonization and solar harvester programs. They got fed up with waiting for us to license them our technology. Practically speaking, it’ll take them ten years or so to catch up. That gives us a decade-long window of opportunity to actually see some profit from all our hard work over the last dozen years. Let me remind you, Eleanor Starke always promised us some fair return for our participation. And believe me, there’s a pent-up demand for high-quality inner-system space habitation systems. With the revenue we generate, we will double or triple our shipbuilding capacity. Thus, the extra-system colonization, which is all you ever think
about, your highness, would not be harmed in the least by our enterprise. We might actually increase it.”

Meewee shook his head and said, “You are the last person I would expect to be quoting the murdered and absent Myr Starke to me.”

But Jaspersen’s proxy ignored him and addressed the others around the table. “Adam will now show us how it works.”

Everyone turned to Gest, whose response from his office at Mezzoluna involved a round-trip transmission lag of about a second. Yet before he could answer, Meewee said, “You can’t change bylaws, let alone the consortium mission statement, on a procedural vote. You all know that. You need a supermajority.”

But when Gest lurched into speech, everyone around the table hushed Meewee. “Thank you, Saul,” Gest began. At the same moment, a scale model of an Oship appeared floating over the conference table. “Here’s one of our colony ships. In fact, I see that it’s the
Chernobyl.
” The ship’s name was stenciled in Roman as well as Cyrillic script on the revolving habitation drums. “Its structure is basically a tandem hoop frame with thirty-two hab drums strung on each hoop. Except for stabilizing rockets, it has no propulsion of its own. Instead, an electromagnetic torus centered in the hub acts as a target for particle beams supplied to it by Heliostream.” As Gest spoke from Mezzoluna, the model over their heads began to change. The ordinarily invisible torus target in the ship’s donut hole glowed red. “Most of the energy the torus intercepts is turned into motive force, the rest is used for life support. Our first refinement would be to tune the torus for micro wave reception instead of particle beam.” The torus glow changed from red to green. “What’s more, only the outer, sunward ship in a roll of Oships needs to have a torus field at all, which will lead to a great cost savings.” As he spoke, more Oships appeared and stacked up against the first like a roll of candy. Their hab drums were all steadily rolling, generating gravity for their inhabitants. From the hoop frames there blossomed solar collectors and dishes and targets of one sort or another. They looked like sprouting leaves and flowers. The evolving model was mesmerizing.

“The typical parked space arcology will house ten to fifteen million persons,” Gest went on. “We already have in hand tentative orders for over a hundred arcologies.”

Half a light-second away, Adam Gest paused to look around the table at the individual board members, stopping at Meewee. “About now,” he said, “someone is bound to ask, But what about resources? Won’t we be robbing
our extra-solar ships to do this additional work? My answer is no. As for raw materials, we already have an exceptionally rich stockpile of nickel/iron asteroids at Trailing Earth, and many more en route from the Kuiper Belt. Chapwoman Extrusion, which Trina has purchased, will be able to supply us the extra construction extruders. My yards are infinitely expandable, and increasing the number of my construction ’beitors will prove to be no problem. We’ll have to talk to whoever buys Chapwoman’s Exotic Fields about retuning the toruses. And the last time I checked, Heliostream is able to supply us with all the micro wave energy we could possibly need. Thus, we already have the extra capacity in place.”

When Gest seemed finished speaking, Zoranna Alblaitor, who had been waiting impatiently, spoke up. “Gest has covered material, facilities, and energy, but what about labor? Applied People would have to start whole new batch lots of jacks and johns to meet the increased demand. We’re talking years of maturation and training, and then what? When the Chinas come online, and demand for our space habitats drop, what do I do with all the surplus iterants?”

Meewee nodded enthusiastically. “I agree. There’s more to this proposal than simply rounding up more asteroids. What about tenants? Wouldn’t we be robbing from our own pool of potential colonists? Why should anyone spend a thousand years traveling to Ursus Majoris when they can hop to a colony at Leading Mars instead? No, in my opinion, this is an unnecessary diversion of our energies and a bad idea. Our mission is not an easy one, my friends, and this
space condo
fantasy is just that, a fantasy. It is
not
GEP’s mission to fill the inner system with your consumers, no matter how profitable. No thank you.”

When the debate ended and the ballot was counted, the vote fell along predictable lines. With eight for and three opposed, the final decision fell to Andrea Tiekel, as Meewee knew it would. So it was with heart-thudding relief that she killed the amendment.

Jaspersen seemed disappointed, but not much. His toy head bobbed in Andrea’s direction. “Nice to see where you stand on this, my dear.”

The young woman laughed. “I’m just getting used to this consortium the way it is, Saul. I don’t think I’m ready to let anyone change it into something else yet.”

 

 

Plan A
 

 

Ellen refused to sit in either Georgine’s or June’s lap. She insisted on sitting by her own real self, propped up in a chair, to receive her realperson guests. “Oliver TUG,” she said merrily to the gargantuan man that Lyra escorted into the Map Room. “A pleasure to see you after all this time. And who is this youngster you’ve brought with you?”

“I’m no youngster, Myr Starke,” said the smaller TUG. “I’m Veronica TUG. We’ve met on a number of occasions.”

Ellen did a double take but recovered quickly and quipped, “Well, Veronica, it would appear that both of us have shed a few dress sizes.” That brought appreciative chuckles from the TUGs, who were offered seats and refreshments.

 

ANDREA, DEAR, WAKE up
, E-P said.
We’ll want to watch this.

Andrea struggled to surface from unrefreshing sleep in her tank. A frame opened in front of her depicting a monstrous baby and equally monstrous guests.

 

“TO WHAT DO I owe this visit?” Ellen said. “I must tell you that I’m leaving my production company and may have less need for your, ah, specialized services in the future.”

Oliver, wiping cookie crumbs from his lips, cleared his throat. “First, we would like to offer our sympathy on behalf of Charter TUG for the loss of your mother.”

“My mother?” The word “mother” hung in the air like a hazard sign. Ellen’s ungainly head wobbled a little, and Georgine and June, seated on either side of her, held their breath. Georgine patted her pockets for the clicker, but Ellen went on, “Thank you. My mother is dead.”

“Yes,” Oliver continued, “and you nearly ended up that way yourself.” He said this in a leading way, but Ellen seemed dense to his meaning, so he spoke more plainly. “Wee Hunk hired us to perform a special service in that regard, and we have come today to collect our payment. We are sorry for the loss of your mentar as well as your mother, and we hesitated contacting you sooner.”

“My Wee Hunk is dead.”

“We know, and we are sorry,” Oliver said, shaking his head in sympathy. “Perhaps we should postpone this reckoning up until a later time.”

“No. Not at all,” Ellen said. “Tell me how much it is, and Lyra will make a transfer.”

“It’s a rather steep amount, myr, because of the danger involved and the costly equipment confiscated or destroyed, not to mention the greasing of many hands.”

“How much?”

“Two hundred fifty thousand UDC.”

This gave pause even to the lifelong aff, but she said, “You weren’t kidding, Oliver; that
is
steep. Tell me, what service cost me that much?”

Oliver seemed uncomfortable and glanced at the ceiling.

“Don’t worry about eavesdroppers, Oliver. This whole house has the rating of a good quiet room. You can talk freely here.”

Oliver remained doubtful, but he continued. “We were instrumental in extracting your head from that house in Decatur, the Sitrun house.”

“I thought the Homeland Command was responsible for that? That’s what my people told me.”

“The hommers were there too, but they and you would have been cooked without us. With the number of media bees present, it shouldn’t be hard for you to verify this.”

“I see,” the adult head said, mulling it over. “I’ll have Lyra look into it. I have no doubt it’ll be as you say.”

“Thank you. We have always appreciated your fairness, Myr Starke.”

“You’re welcome. Expect to hear from us in a few days.” Ellen spoke with a meeting-closing finality, but the TUGs did not rise to leave. “Was there something else?”

“Yes, myr,” Veronica said. “We know that a quarter-million yoodies is a lot even for someone of your means, and we might be willing to take payment in trade.”

“Go on,” Ellen said, a note of caution creeping into her voice.

“In exchange for a waiver, we’d be willing to apply the full amount toward the purchase of an Oship. Oship 67, to be specific.”

“But you don’t need me for that. Talk to the GEP; I’m sure they can accommodate you.”

“We have spoken to them, myr. They insist that the only acceptable payment for shares to an Oship is the title to land. Our membership wants to expand into space, but not at the expense of its holdings on Earth. We’d rather purchase a ship outright, for cash.”

“But you must understand that land acquisition is the GEP’s sole reason for existing. It doesn’t ‘sell’ ships. It only trades them for land.”

“Thus the waiver.”

“I see,” Ellen said. “I don’t know if I can help you. The GEP is a consortium of thirteen partners, and I cannot dictate conditions to the others.” She smiled mischievously and added, “Except that occasionally I do. Maybe we can help each other. I have a counterproposal for you.”

Oliver said, “We’re listening.”

“Not here. What I have to propose is too sensitive even for a quiet room. A null room would be best, except that I can’t manage to enter one yet in my current condition. Instead, let’s cast proxies and put them into a secure scape.”

The TUGs agreed, and Lyra cast proxies of them, and after testing them for faults, Ellen inserted the datapins into a sequestered player. Then, while they waited for their proxies to meet, arbeitors served another round of refreshments.

Half a continent away, Andrea in her tank asked,
What do you make of all that?

We are unsure
, E-P said.
Ellen Starke’s personality is still too unstable for us to model. Let us ask you the same question. What do
you
make of it?

Andrea let her impressions wash over her like the bubbly green syrup in her tank.
Only a few days ago Starke was convinced that her mother was still alive. Now she admits she is dead. Even with the Protatter drug, that’s a swift conversion. She’s used her current guests for extra-legal tasks in the past. She trusts their discretion. It’s obvious she has a dirty deed for them to perform, but what exactly it is, I don’t know.

 

TUG PROXIES TENDED to include everything from the waist up and thus they appeared nearly as gargantuan as their originals. Ellen used her adult sim for her proxy, and only its head, shoulders, and one free-floating unattached hand. The proxies faced each other, drifting in an empty space with no up or down.

BOOK: Mind Over Ship
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