The Unincorporated Woman (41 page)

“That’s bullshit,” hissed Padamir. “We stopped him cold, destroyed ten times as many ships, and saved the capital and our fleet. He lost, but he just can’t admit it.”

“That’s exactly right, Padamir. He cannot admit it,” insisted Kirk. “In point of fact, he
must
not. If he were to go back to Mars for all the logical reasons we’ve just stated, it would be admitting that he lost this battle, and trust me on this because my intel is good here, the UHF cannot take many more losses. But by staying right where he is, on the fucking doorstep of the Alliance and daring us to throw him out, he can claim a draw, which in the UHF’s eyes is as good as a win.”

“Is a draw really worth that much?” asked Sandra.

Even though Kirk had always felt a mild revulsion for this other contaminated refugee from the past, he’d made his peace with her role and its undeniable help to the cause and so had made it a point to always be outwardly cordial. “Absolutely, Madam President. So far, he’s the only one to actually get one out of J.D. And you can bet that Sobbelgé’s already making the most of it. If you ask me, it’s well worth the price and inconvenience of protecting their now stretched-out supply line.”

“Though it pains me, I have to agree with Kirk,” added Sinclair. He then turned off the holo-tank. “But that’s it in a nutshell. Not that we’re not making them pay a high price for maintaining that supply line. I’m sorry that Omad’s out of the picture. Acting Commodore Gorakhpur is doing a hell of a job raiding it. But no matter how many supply ships we capture, harass off the line, or destroy outright, the UHF makes more and then more on top of that. If I could have access to their supply base for even a month, this war would be over.”

Mosh exhaled, quietly tapping the fingers of his right hand on the table. “Six months, you say.”

“Yeah.” Then Sinclair shot a derisive look in Kirk’s direction. “Though
Intelligence
says nine.”

Fuck you very much,
thought Kirk, but merely looked at Sinclair with a half-turned smile.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” said Rabbi, “why the discrepancy?”

“Gut, Rabbi. Mine says six and so does J.D.’s. Trang’ll be ready to go in six. I’d bet my sto … life on it.”

“Anything to add, Kirk?” asked Mosh.

Kirk shrugged. “What can I tell you? It’s an inexact science, and people can be so—” He looked askance at Sinclair. “—unpredictable. Far be it from me to question the Blessed One’s gut.”

“So then the issue before us,” asserted Mosh, “is what can we do to help win the war before then? As we appear to be running out of tricks.”

“Not that the last one worked all that great,” Kirk said dryly.

Hildegard winced at Kirk’s full frontal assault but managed to keep her composure. Though she and Kenji had immediately tendered their resignations post the disaster, the Cabinet had dismissed the notion out of hand. Like everyone else, Hildegard had been asked to perform miracles, actual ones, beyond her budget and means during a time of war. That she and Kenji with the occasional help of Omad had managed to produce so many was practically a miracle in and of itself. But all those seated around the table knew what only Kirk had had the temerity to say—the disaster of the Via had cost the Alliance its best and likely last chance to win the war.

“Enough of that,” thundered Mosh. “We all know the good work Hildegard and Kenji have done for us, and I’m sure they’ve got something else up their sleeve.” Mosh glanced over to the Technology Secretary for validation.

Hildegard’s pained expression did not support the Treasury Secretary’s claim. “I’m sorry to report … no. Certainly nothing that could be operational within the next six months. I sincerely wish I could tell you all different, but I can’t. We all knew the day might come when our bag of tricks would be overwhelmed by brute force.”

An uncomfortable silence followed on her words.

And it was during that quiescence that in a flash Kirk knew what the message, “propose it again,” referred to. The sudden palpitations of his heart and endorphin rush to his head only acted to confirm his other lingering question: He damn well would, and more so, without a second’s hesitation. His eyes glimmered as his lips drew back into an iniquitous grin. “There is … this one idea.” The words were spoken with such mellifluence that anyone sitting at the table would have been hard-pressed to believe that they carried with them a death sentence for billions.

*   *   *

Sandra was relieved. Her initial concerns about not providing Kirk with enough information had proved unwarranted. More to the point, Sebastian had been correct. Even getting Sandra’s newly reinstituted assistant, Catalina, to drop the letter in Kirk’s seat—without him being the wiser—proved to be a breeze. The avatar had blanked the security system. Then it had been only a matter of waiting for the meeting to begin.

Choosing Kirk as a vehicle for her machinations had been another matter entirely. She didn’t like him. But then again, not a lot of people did. Hazard of the profession, she’d concluded. The avatars, of course, were indifferent to like or dislike with regards to Kirk but were adamant in their belief that only he could act as a lever. Both their statistical and empirical evidence had been overwhelming. Sandra now knew that in order to win Justin’s war and fulfill the vow she’d made to that end, Kirk would have to be used. She also knew that based on the collected data given to her by Sebastian, the six Cabinet members now sitting before her would split their votes down the middle with Mosh, Hildegard, and Sinclair on one side and Kirk, Padamir, and Rabbi on the other. If her and Sebastian’s plan was going to work, then she would need to be the deciding vote. Heretofore unprecedented since Justin’s death.

Mosh, looking almost bored, bade Kirk to continue. “We’re all ears.”

And, noted Sandra, they were. Even Mosh, despite his surly response, was paying closer attention, hoping Kirk could weave something palatable out of his dark magic.

“The best part is that it’s all ready to go.”

“What’s ready to go?” Padamir insisted.

Kirk was too busy talking to himself to respond to the question. He kept nodding as he worked out the plans in his head. “Could be implemented with minimal effort,” Kirk mumbled, seemingly happy to agree with himself. He then turned his focus back toward the Treasury Secretary with a look of utter condescension. “Almost was once, in fact.”

Sandra looked over at Mosh, a move that was not conspicuous, because the rest of the Cabinet, with the exception of Tyler Sadma and Rabbi, had as well. Mosh’s face had gone ashen.

“That was voted on and rejected by this very Cabinet,” he seethed through his clenched jaw and barely moving lips. His fingers had stopped tapping and had now formed themselves into a fist planted firmly on the table. “We will
not
revisit it.”

“Why, Mosh,” chided Kirk, “congratulations on your elevation to the Presidency. Oh, that’s right, you’re not the President. And given that we’re operating under Cabinet rules agreed to by all in the absence of an effective President, no offense to our figurehead,” Kirk said with a nod to Sandra, who couldn’t help but give him a pleasant nod back, “I
can
propose it and I
do
.”

“Only if someone else seconds your proposal,” fumed the Treasury Secretary. A dismal silence hung over the room as the Treasury Secretary’s scathing look appeared to have had its desired effect. Kirk, looking puzzled and dismayed, shook his head in disgust as a satisfied smile formed at the corners of Mosh’s mouth.

“Damsah bend me over for this,” proclaimed Admiral Sinclair, “but I’ll second the son of a bitch.” It was hard to tell who was more shocked, Kirk or Mosh, but Sandra was too busy trying to remain outwardly calm to care.

Fuck all,
she thought.
With Sinclair voting with Kirk, the motion will pass four to two and they won’t need my vote. Fucking statistical analysis! It could be weeks or months before I get this kind of shot again, and if I don’t get some real Goddamned power soon, the war could be lost
.

“Joshua,” pleaded Mosh, “it’s virtual reality.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

Sinclair met his friend’s eyes in a way that told not only Mosh but everyone else in the room that he knew a once unimaginable line had been crossed.

“What of Justin’s words, Joshua? He convinced almost all of us that it was too evil to use. That evil hasn’t changed.”

“I remember, old friend. But Justin’s gone, the Belt is effectively lost, and our outer planets are now vulnerable.”

“Forgive me for interrupting,” prodded Rabbi, “but would someone mind telling me exactly what it is we’re talking about?”

Both Mosh and Kirk now looked at Rabbi like he was an eligible bachelor and they each had five unmarried daughters. “Kirk developed a way to infect the UHF with a virtual reality plague,” informed Mosh.

“If you’re going to tell the man, at least be honest about it,” scoffed Kirk. “The UHF has a small but growing VR problem all on its own. Tens of billons of people experiencing the despair of a destructive, never-ending, p.d.-laden war. What we’ve developed is an easily concealable, simply manufactured, oh-so-portable VR unit with an impressive assortment of programs. We’ve also cultivated contacts with certain less-than-lawful elements in the Core Worlds, all of whom will be more than willing to help us out. After all, business is,” he concluded with a knowing grin, “business.”

“Setting up shop with that kind of filth—which, make no mistake, VR pushers are—is to spread the greatest evil humanity has ever known. Hardly the precepts by which this Outer Alliance was formed.”

“
Incorporation
is the greatest evil humanity has ever known,” countered Kirk, “and make no mistake,
we
are the last hope our race has of erasing it.”

Tyler Sadma, though still silent, nodded his brooding assent.

“Incorporation is not, in and of itself, evil any more than a rail gun is evil,” countered Mosh. It was an argument he’d often made and one, judging by the dismissive looks of the Cabinet, he’d never won convincingly. “That it’s been abused by Hektor and his ilk is incontrovertible, but that doesn’t mean we throw the baby out with the biojell.”

Sandra paid only scant attention to the arguments that immediately ensued as the whole issue of incorporation and VR were once again rehashed, with even the normally taciturn Hildegard joining the fray. Sandra could only mull quietly over the inevitable outcome.

“This is getting us nowhere,” snapped Kirk, raising his voice above the caterwauling. “I call for a vote.”

Sandra’s face registered surprise when all heads turned in her direction. Her look then changed to one of chagrin when she realized why. She was considered so unimportant that through the silent decree of the Cabinet, she’d just been given the job of a clerk.

“Of course,” she said as if it were perfectly normal for the President of the Outer Alliance to count votes. “Might as well make myself useful.”

An uncomfortable spate of laughter followed her self-derogation. Sandra straightened up slightly, as if to give more import to her task. “Treasury Secretary, how do you vote?”

Whatever contempt Mosh had left, he managed to pour into that one word. “Against.”

“One against. Intelligence Secretary, how do you vote?”

“For,” Kirk rejoined with equal adamancy.

“One for, one against. Technology Secretary, what is your vote?”

“Against,” Hildegard said with a shudder.

“The vote is two against and one for. Defense Secretary, how do you vote?”

A look of regret sprang into the admiral’s lowered eyes. “I can’t ask my assault miners to risk their lives if I’m not willing to risk my honor. Plus, no one’s being forced to use VR. And it’s not like we’re bombarding innocent civilians. I hate this fucking war.” He then waited a brief moment, as if preparing to expel bile. “I vote yes, damn it!”

“The vote is tied at two each. Relocation Secretary?”

Rabbi looked up, face distraught. He made no effort to hide the tears forming in the wells of his eyes. “For those of you unfamiliar, my people have been subjected to countless acts of inhuman and unspeakable barbarism over the thousands of years of our existence. Including the deaths of millions through the gas chambers and ovens of Auschwitz and Treblinka. These names may mean nothing to you, but they inform every decision I make, every day of my existence. And now … now you ask that I put my imprimatur on more death, and more unspeakable horror.” Rabbi sighed heavily and ran his fingers through the thick black curls of his hair. “I can accept being defeated in war and even the loss of liberty that that would entail. But I cannot and
will
not accept the theft of my free will. The UHF means to unleash upon us all a psychological holocaust the likes of which I believe will destroy the very essence of man; the very essence of humanity. If we have the ability to stop that evil and we do not, then we are complicit. I do not know why God wishes us to make such abhorrent choices, but make them we must. I vote yes.”

Mosh’s face was ashen.

“The vote is three in favor and two against.” Sandra looked to the other end of the table at Padamir Singh. He’d always been belligerent. Had always wanted more pressing military action. His vote, both she and Sebastian had agreed, was a foregone conclusion. Her mouth twitched slightly as she sounded her own death knell. “Information Secretary, it’s your vote.”

Padamir inhaled slightly, his clasped hands resting comfortably on the table. “I have always stressed that we should hurt the enemy any way we can. And so it would seem that now,
especially
now, there’d be no reason to believe I’d think any different.”

Mosh had already turned his head away, the mere sight of his colleague and the finality of what was about to happen proving to be too much.

“As simple as it sounds, the final arbiter for many of my toughest decisions has been my children and grandchildren. At the end of the day, could I look them in the face and honestly, without any prevarication, justify my actions? The answer to that question has rarely failed me. And though I thought I was sure which way I’d vote at the beginning of this motion, the answer I’m left with at the end surprises even me. In short, I could not justify this to my children.” Above the collective gasp, Padamir soldiered on. “In this, as in many things, Justin Cord was indeed prophetic, and therefore, I must vote no.”