The Peace War (22 page)

But Gerrault simply shrugged, and his three bodyguards moved uneasily behind him.
Avery shifted his gaze to Tioulang. The elderly Cambodian, Director for Asia, was not
nearly so upset. K.T was one of the originals: He had been a graduate student at
Livermore before the War. He and Hamilton and some hundred others picked by Avery's
father had been the founders of the new world. There were very few of them left now.
Every year they must select a few more successors. Gerrault was the first director from
outside the original group.
Is this the future?
He saw the same question in Tioulang's
eyes. Christian was much more capable than he acted, but every year his jewels, his
harems, his... excesses, became harder to ignore. After the old ones were gone, would he
proclaim himself an emperor — or simply a god?

"K.T, Christian, you've been getting my reports. You know we have what amounts to
an insurrection here. Even so, I haven't told you everything. Things have happened that
you simply won't believe."

"
That
is entirely possible," said Gerrault.

Avery ignored the interruption. "Gentlemen, our enemy has spaceflight."

For a long moment there was only the sighing of the airconditioning. Gerrault's
sarcasm had evaporated, and it was Tioulang who raised protest. "But Hamilton, the
industrial base that requires! The Peace itself has only a small, unmanned program. We
saw to it that all the big launch complexes were lost during the War." He realized he was
rattling on with the obvious and waited for Avery to continue.

Avery motioned his aide to lay the pictures on the table. "I know, K.T. This should be
impossible. But look: A fully functional sortie craft — the type the old USAF was flying
just before the War — has crashed near the California-Aztlán border. This isn't a model or
a mockup. It was totally destroyed in a fire subsequent to its landing, but my people
assure me that it had just returned from orbit."

The two directors leaned forward to look at the holos. Tioulang said, "I take your word
for this, Hamilton, but it could still be a hoax. I thought all those vehicles were accounted
for, but perhaps there has been one in storage all these years. Granted, it is intimidating
even as a hoax, but..."

"As you say. But there is no evidence of the vehicle's being dragged into the area — and
that's heavy forest around the crash site. We are bringing as much of the wreck as we can
back here for a close look. We should be able to discover if it was made since the War or
if it is a refurbished model from before. We are also putting pressure on Albuquerque to
search the old archives for evidence of a secret US launch site."

Gerrault tipped his massive form back to look at his bodyguards. Avery could imagine
his suspicion. Finally the African seemed to reach a decision. He leaned forward and said
quietly, "Survivors. Did you find anyone to question?"

Avery shook his head. "There were at least two aboard. One was killed on impact. The
other was killed by... one of our investigating teams. An accident." The other's face
twisted, and Avery imagined the slow death Christian would have given those
responsible for any such accident. Avery had dealt quickly and harshly with the
incompetents involved, but he had gotten no pleasure from it. "There was no
identification on the crewman, beyond an embroidered name tag. His flightsuit was old
US Air Force issue."

Tioulang steepled his fingers. "Granting the impossible, what were they up to?"

"It looks like a reconnaissance mission. We've brought the wreck back to the labs, but
there is still equipment we can't identify."

Tioulang studied one of the aerial photos. "It probably came in from the north, maybe
even overflew Livermore.

He gave a wan smile. "History repeats. Remember that Air Force orbiter we bobbled? If
they had reported what we were up to right at that critical moment... what a different
world it would be today."

Days later Avery would wonder why Tioulang's comment didn't make him guess the
truth. Perhaps it was Gerrault's interruption; the younger man was not interested in
reminiscence. "This then explains why our communication satellites have failed!"

"We think so. We're trying to bring up the old radar watch we maintained through the
twenties. It would help if both of you would do this, too.

"However you cut it, it seems we have our first effective opposition in nearly thirty
years. Personally, I think they have been with us a long, long time. We've always ignored
these 'Tinkers,' assuming that without big energy sources their technology could be no
threat to us. `Cottage industry' we called it. When I showed you how far their electronics
was ahead of ours, you seemed to think they were at most a threat to my West Coast
holdings.

"Now it's clear that they have a worldwide operation in some ways equal to our own. I
know there are Tinkers in Europe and China. They exist most places where there was a
big electronics industry before the War. You should regard them as much a threat as I do
mine."

"Yes, and we must flush out the important ones and... " Gerrault was in his element
now. Visions of torture danced in his eyes.

"And," said Tioulang, "at the same time convince the rest of the world that the Tinkers
are a direct threat to their safety. Remember that we all need goodwill. I have direct
military control over most of China, but I could never keep India, Indonesia, and Japan in
line if the people at the bottom didn't trust me more than their governments. There are
more than twenty million people in those holdings."

"Ali, that is your problem. You are like the grasshopper, lounging in the summer of
public approval. I am the industrious ant," Gerrault looked down at his enormous torso
and chuckled at the metaphor, "who has diligently worked to maintain garrisons from
Oslo to Capetown. If this is `winter' coming, I'll need no public approval." His eyes
narrowed. "But I do need to know more about this new enemy of ours."

He glanced at Avery. "And I think Avery has cleverly provided us with a lever against
them. I wondered why you supported their silly chess tournament in Aztlán why you
used your aircraft to transport their teams from all over the continent. Now I know: When
you raided that tournament, you arrested some of the best Tinkers in the world. Oh, no
doubt, just a few of them have knowledge of the conspiracy against us, but at the same
time they must have many loved ones — and some of those will know more. If, one at a
time, we try the prisoners for treason against Peace... why, I think we'll find someone
who is willing to talk."

Avery nodded. He would get none of the pleasure out of the operation that Christian
might. He would do only what was necessary to preserve the Peace. "And don't worry,
K.T, we can do it without antagonizing the rest of our people.

"You see, the Tinkers use a lot of x- and gamma-ray lithography; they need it for
microcircuit fabrication. Now, my public affairs people have put together a story that
we've discovered the Tinkers are secretly upgrading these etching lasers for use as
weapons lasers like the governments had before the War."

Tioulang smiled. "Ah. That's the sort of direct threat that should get us a lot of support.
It's almost as effective as claiming they're involved in bioscience research. "

"There." Gerrault raised his hands beneficently to his fellow directors. "We are all
happy then. Your people are pacified, and we can go after the enemy with all vigor. You
were right to call us, Avery; this is a matter that deserves our immediate and personal
attention."

Avery felt grim pleasure in replying, "There is another matter, Christian, at least as
important. Paul Hoehler is alive."

"The old-time mathematician you have such a fixation on? Yes, I know. You reported
that in hushed and terrified tones several weeks ago."

"One of my best agents has infiltrated the Middle California Tinkers. She reports that
Hoehler has succeeded — or is near to succeeding — in building a bobble generator."

It was the second bombshell he had laid on them, and in a way the greater. Spaceflight
was one thing; several ordinary governments had had it before the War. But the bobble:
For an enemy to have that was as unwelcome and incredible as hell opening a chapel.
Gerrault was emphatic: "Absurd. How could one old man fall on a secret we have kept so
carefully all these years?"

"You forget, Christian, that
one old man
invented bobbles in the first place! For ten
years after the War, he moved from laboratory to laboratory, always just ahead of us,
always working on ways to bring us down. Then he disappeared so thoroughly that only I
of all the originals believed he was out there somewhere plotting against us. And I was
right; he has an incredible ability to survive."

"I'm sorry, Hamilton, but I have trouble believing, too. There is no hard evidence here,
apparently just the word of a woman. I think you always have been overly distressed by
Hoehler. He may have had some of the original ideas, but it was the rest of your father's
team that really made the invention possible. Besides, it takes a fusion plant and some
huge capacitors to power a generator. The Tinkers could never..." Tioulang's voice trailed
off as he realized that if you could hide space-launch facilities, you could certainly do the
same for a fusion reactor.

"You see?" said Avery. Tioulang hadn't been in Father's research group, couldn't
realize Hoehler's polymath talent. There had been others in the project, but it had been
Hoehler on all the really theoretical fronts. Of course, history was not written that way.
But stark after all the years, Avery remembered the rage on Hoehler's face when he
realized that in addition to inventing "the monster" (as he called it), that the development
could never have been kept secret if he had not done the work of a lab full of specialists.
It had been obvious the fellow was going to report them to LEL, and Father had trusted
only Hamilton Avery to silence the mathematician. Avery had not succeeded in that
assignment. It had been his first — and last — failure of resolve in all these years, but it was
a failure that refused to be buried.

"He's out there, K.T, he really is. And my agent is Della Lu, who did the job in
Mongolia that none of your people could. What she says you can believe... Don't you
see where we are if we fail to act? If they have spaceflight and the bobble, too, then they
are our superiors. They can sweep us aside as easily as we did the old-time
governments."

The
sabios
of the Ndelante Ali claimed the One True God knows all and sees all.

Those powers seemed Wili's, now that he had learned to use the scalp connect. He
blushed to think of all the months he had dismissed symbiotic programs as crutches for
weak minds. If only Jeremy — who had finally convinced him to try — could be here to see.
If only Roberto Jonque Richardson were here to be crushed.

Jeremy had thought it would take months to learn. But for Wili, it was like suddenly
remembering a skill he'd always had. Even Paul was surprised. It had taken a couple of
days to calibrate the connector. At first, the sensations coming over the line had been
subtle things, unrelated to their real significance. The mapping problem — the relating of
sensation to meaning — was what took most people months. Jill had been a big help with
that. Wili could talk to her at the same time he experimented with the signal parameters,
telling her what he was seeing. Jill would then alter the output to match what Wili most
expected. In a week he could communicate through the interface without opening his
mouth or touching the keyboard. Another couple of days and he was transferring visual
information over the channel.

The feeling of power was born. It was like being able to add extra rooms to his
imagination. When a line of reasoning became too complex, he could simply expand into
the machine's space. The low point of every day was when he had to disconnect. He was
so stupid then. Typing and vocal communication with Jill made him feel like a deaf-mute
spelling out letters.

And every day he learned more tricks. Most he discovered himself, though some things
— like concentration enhancement and Jill-programming — Paul showed him. Jill could
proceed with projects during the time when Wili was disconnected and store results in a
form that read like personal memories when Wili was able to reconnect. Using the
interface that way was almost as good as being connected all the time. At least, once he
reconnected, it seemed he'd been "awake" all the time.

Paul had already asked Jill to monitor the spy cameras that laced the hills around the
mansion. When Wili was connected, he could watch them all himself. One hundred extra
eyes.

And Wili/Jill monitored local Tinker transmissions and the Authority's recon satellites
the same way. That was where the feeling of omniscience came strongest.

Both Tinkers and Peacers were waiting — and preparing in their own ways — for the
secret of generating bobbles that Paul had promised. From Julian in the South to Seattle
in the North and Norcross in the East, the Tinkers were withdrawing from view, trying to
get their gear undercover and ready for whatever construction Paul might tell them was
necessary. In the high tech areas of Europe and China, something similar was going on —
though the Peace cops were so thick in Europe it was difficult to get away with anything
there. Four of that continent's self-producing design machines had already been captured
or destroyed.

It was harder to tell what was happening in the world's great outback. There were few
Tinkers there — in all Australia, for instance, there were less than ten thousand humans —
but the Authority was spread correspondingly thin. The people in those regions had
radios and knew of the world situation, knew that with enough trouble elsewhere they
might overthrow the local garrisons.