“I have millions of followers,” Rhea said.
“Do you now?” Peter said. “According to my sources, you’re banned from all the major streaming sites. You may have been an ‘influencer’ at some point, but you’re nothing now.”
“You might be surprised at how much influence I still have,” she said sullenly, though she knew he was right. She was banned from the major streaming networks, and while she might have the people of Rust Town on her side, that was only one small settlement, a tiny fraction of the entire population of Earth.
“I understand your intentions are noble,” Peter continued. “But you’re in no position to negotiate on behalf of Earth, I’m afraid. You need not concern yourself with this matter. We’re already working on a deal with Earth’s High Council.”
Rhea almost rolled her eyes. “So I’ve heard. You’ve been working on this deal for the past thirty years and still haven’t hammered anything out. Tell me you’re close, at least.”
Peter glanced at that council woman seated immediately beside him. Brenda.
“We’re no further than we were thirty years ago,” Brenda admitted.
“Why?” Rhea said. “Which side is at fault? Yours?”
They didn’t answer.
“Of course they’re going to blame Earth,” Will told her softly.
Rhea glanced at him, then returned her attention to the council members. “If you tell me, I’ll think about signing that contract.”
Brenda glanced at Peter, who nodded ever so subtly.
Brenda sighed. “The blame falls squarely on Earth. Or rather one particular member. Khrusos. Whenever we come close to an agreement in principle, a compromise that we and most of the High Council can live with, Khrusos always vetoes the proposal.”
John, the council member to the left of Peter, looked at Rhea and added: “The sad thing is, you’re completely right. We need to start building up the interplanetary supply infrastructure immediately, if Earth’s needs are to be met nine months from now when its oceans begin to run dry. But we can’t, not until we come to some sort of agreement.”
“How can one man overrule an entire council?” Rhea asked.
“He is the most powerful member,” Brenda replied.
“Can’t you just agree to what he wants?” Rhea said. “The lives of billions are at stake.”
Brenda’s tone softened, and when she spoke, it seemed almost with pity: “You haven’t seen the terms he wants…”
“I might have to have a talk with him…” Rhea said.
That brought a smirk from Peter, but the man said nothing.
Will’s words came to her unbidden. Sometimes, Dude, you’re so naive.
Yes, she was naive to think she could make a difference here.
That angered her, and only made her want to dig in.
She resisted the urge for the sake of her friends, and sighed.
“All right, I’ll sign it,” she said. “I’ll state I have no claim to this moon, nor the water beneath its crust. I’ll also cede any rights to the Ganymedean artifacts you’ve collected, with one exception: I won’t give up the Ban’Shar. Place a provision for that weapon in the contract, and you’ve got yourself an agreement.”
Peter frowned. “I’m afraid I can’t—”
“No Ban’Shar, no signature,” she interrupted.
Peter stared at her for several seconds. Then: “A moment.”
He and the other holograms vanished from view, ostensibly to confer.
“They’re sure taking their time,” Will commented after a minute had passed.
The council members reappeared a good three minutes later. “We have updated the contract.”
Rhea accepted the new share request and reread the document. They’d added a provision for the Ban’Shar, as she’d asked. The weapon was hers, but she wouldn’t be able to retrieve it until she boarded a transport headed off moon.
She digitally signed the contract and transmitted it to Peter.
The councilor smiled. “Thank you. You and your friends may stay a few weeks until you’re able to arrange transportation. Then you will never return.”
7
As soon as she returned to her lodging in the short-term rental, Rhea sent a message to Targon, letting him know that she’d be accepting his offer of a return trip after all. The transmission would take a few hours to reach him, and his reply would come another couple of hours after that.
When that was done, she sent Horatio a mental message: I want to know the locations of the lost Ganymedean domes.
That information appears to be scrubbed from the local Internet, Horatio said.
Rhea nodded. Yes, I know. But you’re going to get it the old fashioned way. That’s right, you’re actually going to ask some people in real life, rather than relying upon the results of some censored search engine.
Horatio seemed puzzled. Ask people in real life? Like who?
Former members of the Europan space navy, early colonists, archeologists, Rhea transmitted. There are bound to be people out there who’ve encountered at least one of the destroyed domes at some point or another. Dig around… start online to generate leads and move to the offline world when you get in touch with them.
You don’t want me to contact these leads over the local Internet? Horatio asked.
I’d prefer not, she clarified. You can arrange the meeting online, if you insist, but don’t tell them what you’re after until you sit them down in person. You have to assume that the colony’s AI is watching everything all of us do, as it will from now until we leave.
It isn’t a crime to seek out fallen Ganymedean domes, as far as I know, Horatio sent.
No, it’s not, Rhea agreed. But if the search results are any indication, the local council doesn’t want armchair explorers gallivanting about the ruins, for ‘safety reasons’ or otherwise. If the AI knew what you were after, it might try to dissuade any leads from talking with you. Try to get as many of them to meet with you at once as you can, and once you get them all together in person, if they refuse to talk, offer a financial award.
And how are we going to pay such a reward? Horatio inquired.
Get in touch with the Wardenites, Rhea replied. Tell
