Fate of Worlds: Return From the Ringworld

What came next hinged on the answer to a single question. Would New Terran authorities alter their plans? The shortsighted fools had been relying on the ARM being too preoccupied — by the Ringworld disappearance and the multispecies conflict moving to the Fleet — to investigate a lone ship gone missing far away, in unfamiliar space. The politicians might even have been correct.

Now they had to worry about Koala escaping to report an ambush.

A lost ship might be written off; a hostile act would elicit an armed response. The governor and her cronies had to realize that. Didn’t they? But as the silence from New Terra dragged on, an outbreak of clear thinking seemed ever less likely …

Sigmund squeezed Amelia’s shoulder. “It won’t come to that. Either part.”

“Yes, it will.”

He gave her shoulder another squeeze. “Prison isn’t an option. Not for you. When we head back” — which must happen soon, because Elysium was running low on deuterium and food — “we’ll both tell the authorities that I forced you to help me. You’ll be in the emergency medical stasis unit because I no longer needed you awake after you’d configured probes for me.” He hesitated. “If I smack you a little, bruise your face, no one will question that story.”

She shook off Sigmund’s hand to stand facing him, her eyes blazing. “Absolutely not! I came of my own free will, and I’ll not have anyone think such terrible things of you. Certainly not your son!” Her expression softened. “I can’t believe you would take the blame for me.”

He shrugged, embarrassed.

The hardest part of waiting was the silence. Maybe they had initiated a debate groundside, but it was impossible to know. Back in the day, Sigmund had kept spy ships skulking near the Fleet of Worlds. Any of those ships could have tapped into New Terra’s public networks from this distance. All he had was this short-range cargo ship, equipped and provisioned for same-day jaunts. Hiding beyond the reach of the early-warning arrays, carrying only commercial comm gear, the planet’s low-powered RF leakage was unintelligible babble.

“Maybe I will have a snack,” Amelia said. Changing the subject?

“Sure. What can I bring you?”

“Soup and a sandwich. Maybe some…”

Sigmund saw it, too: the flashing indicator for an incoming comm signal. But was the contact from Koala or New Terra?

* * *

“… CALLING SIGMUND AUSFALLER. Please respond. This is the governor calling — ”

The message was in full video and it showed — a man! He had a long, thin head, a trim goatee, sunken cheeks, and crow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes.

Sigmund didn’t recognize the face.

“Could we have done it?” Amelia asked hopefully.

To put a new face on air would have been easy enough. “Let’s try to find out. Until we know more, I suggest you stay out of sight.”

Instead, Amelia plopped into the copilot’s crash couch.

Sigmund took the pilot’s seat, tilted the camera away from her, and accepted the hail. “Ausfaller here.”

“Minister Ausfaller,” the self-proclaimed governor said. “Thank you for taking my hail.”

The response was immediate, from outside the singularity. So why had the “governor” left New Terra? To facilitate comm, or to backtrack the chain of relay buoys to Elysium? Probably both.

Sigmund rested his hands on the hyperdrive controls. “Who are you?”

“Excuse me,” the man said. “Of course you wouldn’t know. My name is Llewellyn Kudrin-Goldberg. At the time of your … hasty departure, I was the assemblyman for a rural district in East Arcadia.”

“You’ve had quite a promotion,” Sigmund said.

“Quite.” Kudrin-Goldberg smiled briefly. “I blame you.”

“And the previous governor?” At Amelia’s voice, the camera pivoted toward her.

“Ah, Mrs. Ausfaller-Lopez. I’m pleased to see you are well.”

“I’ll be better,” she said, “when I know what’s been happening.”

“Very well,” Kudrin-Goldberg said. “Minister Ausfaller’s broadcast raised enough doubts that a few courageous individuals within the defense establishment came forward. Computers within the Ministry were searched. When it became public that Norquist-Ng had ordered the strike against the simulated Earth ship…”

Amelia nodded knowingly.

Sigmund had never understood the Puppeteer-like consensus process that swept out New Terra’s first government — and him — so long ago. He didn’t expect ever to quite understand this latest overthrow, either.

He could live with the mystery, assuming this revolution was as bloodless as when the government he had served stepped down. And if this revolution was for real …

“What do you want from us, Governor?” Sigmund asked.

“To return home, of course. To join us in welcoming Koala.” Kudrin-Goldberg paused. “The people have spoken. They want the reunification to happen, Minister. Please don’t scare away our visitors. They could arrive at any time.”

“One moment, Governor.” Amelia hit MUTE. “Sigmund, can we trust him?”

“Let’s find out.” Sigmund unmuted the connection. “Governor, I assume you have a link with the ground. I’d like to talk with someone down there.”

“Certainly. We can patch you in from this ship. Who should we call?”

“Check the header.” Except for the header, the text Sigmund transmitted was encrypted. Doubtless the encryption could be cracked — but not before he got his answer. “Send my file as addressed, and be ready to open a real-time session with the recipient.”

“Very well, Minister.”

“Hermes?” Amelia mouthed.

Sigmund shook his head.

Seconds stretched.

Over the comm console, the holo split. A familiar figure appeared wearing a long-tailed black dress coat, black vest, starched white shirt, black bow tie, and white gloves. “It is very good to hear from you, sir,” Jeeves said.

“You, too, Jeeves,” Sigmund answered. But was this his Jeeves? Was it a Jeeves at all, or a person hiding behind an animated avatar? Anyone running Sigmund’s psych profile might have guessed who he would contact. “Is everything well?”

“Quite well, sir. The old government has fallen. Mr. Kudrin-Goldberg has assumed the governorship. You are considered something of a hero again, sir.”

The words proved nothing. Anyone could guess Sigmund would want to hear them.

“Three seven theta alpha forty-two,” Sigmund challenged.

“Forty-four nineteen delta sigma,” Jeeves responded.

His Jeeves: no one else knew the challenge-response pair. Sigmund had set the AI loose on the public net, because what was one more law broken among so many? It was almost inconceivable that Jeeves had been caught and hacked in the few days Sigmund had been away.

Sometimes almost inconceivable was the best that one could hope for.

“All right, Governor, I’m convinced. We’ll be home soon.”

The governor said, “I’m pleased to hear that, Minister. The people will be, too. Once you are down, please come to my offices at your earliest convenience.”

At Sigmund’s side, Amelia was grinning from ear to ear. Kudrin-Goldberg looked relieved. And something else. Expectant?

“I have to ask. Why do you keep using my old title?” Flattery, Sigmund supposed.

“The truth is,” the governor said, “the Defenses Forces need a housecleaning. I had intended to make this request face-to-face, but I guess it can’t wait.

“Sigmund, I’m hoping to make Minister of Defense your current title.”