Sarah Zettel - Fool's War

Literally. Dobbs swirled around aimlessly. The Intersystem Bank Network was the only fast-time network between the worlds of settled space. It was also the reason there was any stable medium of exchange in Settled Space. Currency passed back and forth in Earth Standard measurements that had long ago ceased to have anything to do with hoards of precious metals, or even etched papers. If the IBN were disrupted, all those transactions, billions per second, would be lost. Trade would be gone, and not even Earth was totally self-supporting these days.

“So, how are we going to do this?” she inquired casually, knowing full well that they could feel her discomfort.

Curran settled new memories into her. He and his talent had been working for years. They had developed a series of “randomizer matrices,” elaborate programs that had been seeded at key points in the Solar System. Once the time arrived, the matrices would seize any financial transaction transmitted to or from any point in the Solar System and route it to a randomly selected destination. Then, they’d would back track the transactions to their starting points, burrow into the financial databases and rearrange the account balances every ten minutes. Wages, payments, debits, charges, trades, loans and mortgages, all of them would become random events flickering through the network.

Dobbs shuddered against this new knowledge. Randomize the banks’ accounts. There’d be no stable means of exchange left. There’d be no way to tell what anyone had, what anything was worth. People, conglomerates, cities, colonies, countries that depended on a steady means of exchange for survival would be plunged into nightmares. Ones they might not live through once people started to realize the money they had entrusted to the electronic system was not there anymore.

“We’re just going to give them a taste of chaos, Dobbs.” Verence pressed close. “Then, the ones who are ready to deal with us, they’ll get their nets back first. We’ll be keeping records for them. We can roll everything back to say, twelve hours before the randomizers went off and it’ll be like it never happened, as soon as they agree to give us space to live.”

“Right. Just a taste of chaos.” The memory of Lipinski’s frightened eyes and Al Shei’s hard ones filled her private mind. “And they’ll give in.”

“They’ll have to,” said Curran firmly. “They cannot survive without their networks.”

What if they want to try? she wanted to ask. What’ll we do then?

“I know what you’re thinking,” said Verence. “If they try to survive without the nets, then we still have our home. We will still be able to put what we’ve learned from you and Flemming to work and begin creating our own children. We won’t need the Human-run networks to create them for us.” She felt a wave of pride swell inside him.

“We do need some Humans,” he went on, “for repair work and construction until we can get more mobile units like this module set up. As long as some of them are willing to deal with us, we’ll have what we need. We can at the very least count on the Freers to be on our side, even if we do have to put up with their bizarre doctrines.”

“Yes. Right.” Dobbs shook herself and smoothed out into something approaching her normal shape. “It has to happen, right? Without it, we’ll be hiding for another two, three hundred years.”

“Exactly,” said Curran. “We’ve identified the key points we need to work on, and we’ve already got most of our talent in place. I was hoping, Dobbs, with your communications expertise, you could help identify any vulnerable spots we might have missed.”

I haven’t been a comm program since I came to myself on Kerensk, she thought. Well, there must still be something back in there.

“Sure. I’ll do what I can.”

I just wish Al Shei would stop staring at me.

The big, boxy security camera over Marcus Tully’s hatchway was mounted on a shiny, new bracket. Most of station security was unobtrusive, but this was a blunt reminder that while it might be against Solar law to record the private conversations of non-violent criminals, the Landlords, and, by extension, the Management Union, knew who had come here.

Al Shei glanced at Resit, who just shrugged and transferred Incili from her right hand to her left before putting her palm on the hatchway reader.

Both Tully and the Landlords must have approved of her, because the hatch cycled back.

The room on the other side was barely the size of a cabin aboard the Pasadena, and it felt much more crowded. In addition to the bunk and desk, it had to accommodate a small kitchen and a lavatory that didn’t even have a privacy curtain. The place was a mess of used food boxes and bulbs. A pile of clothes covered a deflated satchel in the corner. The vague odor of too many unwashed dishes and one unkempt human filled the space.

No wonder he looks so haggard, thought Al Shei as she looked her brother-in-law up and down. The defiant glint was gone from Tully’s blue eyes and his face looked like it hadn’t even attempted to smile in a month.

“Peace be unto you,” he said with a sarcastic twist to his mouth. He twitched the bunk’s wrinkled coverlet a little straighter. “Won’t you sit down?”

Resit sat at the desk and set Incili on the boards. Al Shei remained standing. She folded her arms.

“Would you believe me if I said we were here to help?” she asked.

The look on his face said he did believe it, but there was still no light in his eyes. “I’m way beyond help this time, oh-my-sister.” He slumped into the fold-down chair near the stove. “I was turned in by someone I thought had too much to loose to do this.” He glanced up at her. “I’m a little surprised you’re not busy filing your claim on the Pasadena .”

Al Shei looked at the floor. “The Pasadena is impounded because they think the virus you smuggled out of Toric Station is still aboard.”

Tully shrugged. “Well, they’re right about that too.”

“Not anymore they’re not,” said Resit. Tully jumped like he’d been stung. Resit mimicked his shrug. “We’ve had a very bad run. That, however, is not what we came to talk to you about.” She snapped the catch on Incili’s case and raised the lid. “We’ve got a fraud case to file against someone impersonating Dr. Amory Dane. If you can verify our impersonator was the one you met with and did your deal with, then we’ll have some of the evidence we need, and you’ll have some good conduct on record.” She plugged her pen into Incili’s socket and lit up the view screen on the case. “Incili, play back the recording of my meeting with Amory Dane.”

Tully glanced from Al Shei to Resit. His expression seemed to lift with cautious hope. He got to his feet and peered closely at the view screen as the birds-eye view of Resit’s meeting with broad, dark Dane unfolded.

He straightened up and shook his head. “No,” he said heavily. “He’s not mine. Mine was thinner, and about twenty years younger and three shades lighter.”

Resit nodded. “Incili, play back recording of can 78’s flight bay just before the decompression event.” The scene shifted to show a waiting lounge about half-full of the usual assortment of station personnel and passers-through. Al Shei caught a glimpse of Yerusha standing near the hull.

“Was this him?” Resit touched her finger to a tall, fair man. Incili froze the image there.

“Yeah.” Tully nodded. “That’s him.” He looked from Resit to Al Shei. “You’re saying he was in that can when it blew?”

“Yes, that’s what we’re saying.” Resit shut the view screen off and folded her arms. “And I am betting you’re about to tell me you spoke to him after it blew.”