Mind Over Ship

“Yes,” he said without having to think. “Buy it.”

By the time Fred arrived back at his rez wheel, he had withdrawn seven hundred hours of emergency personal leave, to commence at once. His plan was to move on board the Fentan as soon as he could, but before he was finished packing, he received a summons to the Elbow Room. He had been expecting it, and there was no getting around it, so he left his packed travel bag and returned to civieside for one final meeting.

Market Forces

It was unlike any simulgraphic brainscan Mary had ever undergone. Instead of actively thinking about what she wanted a proxy to do, she had no control over her thoughts at all. Instead of emoting on cue for the Leena sims, she was reliving her entire life — all at once. More memories flew by than she could ever hope to catch. She kissed Fred for the first time, and she kissed him for the thousandth time. Shelley introduced her to Reilly who had a friend named Fred. His face was so innocent when he was asleep, and he buttered his bread methodically. Wednesday night in the Tin Room at Rolfe’s and Sazza complains about the silk pillowcase, her hangnail snagged on a thread, while this water tastes funny.

Evangeline School, and Mary is submerged in a sea of sisters. The games! The adventures! Pinching Marie and leaving a mark. Raising her hand in class; pick me, pick me. Listening real hard and telling you what I thought I heard you say.

A very distinct memory surfaced and lingered awhile before melting away. It was a class in flower arrangement, a skill that would always be in fashion. She’s nine years old by the calendar, eighteen in maturation. It’s her last year in school. Shelley bursts into the classroom, tears in her eyes. What’s wrong?

Shelley opens a frame, and the sisters come around the workbench to watch, dropping sprigs and wires. It’s a news program on the Anti-Transubstantiation Channel, which is no friend to clones. What does it mean? asks a sister, and the rest of them shush her. Shush!

“Vanity is a fickle master,” the reporter is saying, “and recent figures from E-Pluribus bear this out.” She is no impartial journalist, this reporter, but a partisan, as any ’leen can tell from the note of satisfaction in her voice.

The news scene switches to the headquarters of their future employer, Applied People, where CEO Zoranna Alblaitor is answering questions. “It just goes to show that the needs of society change, sometimes quickly. Now, fifteen years later, that demand is no longer there.”

The reporter asks a question, and Zoranna replies, “No, I wouldn’t call it a ‘fad’ per se. That completely mischaracterizes the nature of trend forecasting. We certainly wouldn’t have invested our resources into designing this or any new germline on the basis of a ‘fad.’ ”

Another question, and, “Perhaps. But you’re going to have a time lag with any new germline. We’re able to cut a human’s maturation period in half, from crib to college, but that still means nine years before the first units are released to the marketplace.”

A final question, and, “No, we’re canceling development of the evangeline line immediately. Fortunately, only the prototype batch was ever decanted, and that consisted of only ten thousand units.”

What does it mean? repeats your sister. It means our stock has crashed. It means we have no value. It means we’re in for a very bumpy ride.

Degrees of Freedom

“Before we get to the unpleasantries,” Veronica TOTE’s proxy said, “let me commend you on your quick thinking the other day.”

Fred said, “You know what I found, of course.”

“I can only imagine,” the proxy said, unwilling to give anything away.

“Don’t strain your imagination,” Fred said. “I’ll show you.” Fred used his Spectre to project a little frame with the dead soldier’s sheet. A tissue sample Fred’s scout had retrieved had enabled his Spectre to make a positive ID. “I don’t know exactly how many men you have aboard the Chernobyl, but I did some traffic analysis last night, and I estimate there’s as many as five thousand. I was just over there today, and I scanned over 450 possible TOTEs in one crypt alone. The way I figure it, and I’m sure you’ll correct me if I’m wrong, you plan to hijack the Chernobyl en route to Upsilon Andromedae.” He waited for a reaction, but the proxy remained poker-faced, so he continued. “I’m not sure when, but I figure you’ll postpone the takeover for as long as possible because unless you have some quantum trick up your sleeve, you’ll still need the Heliostream particle beam for acceleration. And you’ll want to wait at least four years because that’s how long it’ll take to leave the solar system and any likely pursuit by the UD Space Command. But I’m thinking you’d like at least twenty years because by then the Chinas will have their own solar harvesters online, and you’ll probably be able to rent a particle beam from them.

“So that’s my window, four to twenty years. If you touch me anytime before then, the Space Command will get a copy of this, and they’ll either capture you or shut off the beam, or both. I’d like more time to get out of your reach, but four years oughtta do.”

Fred stopped talking. Veronica’s proxy seemed more amused than he would have liked.

“My, what a rich fantasy life you lead, Commander,” she said. “I can see you’ve put a lot of thought into this, as well as a lot of wishful thinking. Too bad you didn’t finish your homework. Otherwise, you would have realized that the same clue that gave us away argues against your scenario.”

Fred didn’t like the sound of that, and his thoughts raced to discover any flaw in his reasoning.

“You are correct that we have an army on board and that we plan to hijack the ship, but as to the destination and time frame, you’re way off. My soldiers are not in deep biostasis but only in a light fugue state, a form of hibernation, as you surmised from the liquid blood. A body can survive that for a year, two years tops, not twenty years, not even four. Which means we have to make our move much sooner than you’d like. In fact, we will take over the ship within a few months of its departure. And that means your insurance policy expires in less than six months from today. And believe me, you couldn’t hide from us in any case.”

Fred was confused. The particle beam acceleration was so incremental that in six months the Oship would hardly be beyond Earth’s orbit.

Veronica read his expression. “Whatever made you think we were interested in deep-space colonization? I thought you were paying attention to my speech last year at the Charter Union Rendezvous. There are no space- faring charters, Commander. The powers that be have effectively frozen us out of the space game. They wouldn’t even sell us a ship without taking our land in exchange. Our way of life must be too threatening to allow us to gain even a toehold in space. But we refuse to give up either our claim on Earth or our rightful share of the solar system.”

The truth finally dawned on Fred. “You’re stealing the Chernobyl for in-system colonization!”

“At last,” Veronica’s proxy said. “It took you long enough. Yes, we’ll use this wonderful platform to bootstrap our own inner system colony. I don’t think I’ll tell you exactly where, but it wouldn’t be hard to guess. We have all the chemical rockets we need to get us there and we have nuclear power to run life support. So we won’t need Heliostream after the launch. We’ll establish a whole new space economy to break the stranglehold of the UD and the Chinas. We’ll create a brand-new center of power in this weary old system.”

Fred shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I assure you we are not.”

“You won’t last a week. The Space Command will board you.”

“You think? We have our own insurance policy. Have you forgotten our hostages? We will have crypts full of freeze-dried hostages. Think of it, we won’t even need to feed or water them or take them to the bathroom. They’ll never complain. They have an indefinite shelf life and are conveniently packaged so we can return them as good-