John Ringo - There Will Be Dragons

“So is dropping the PPFs the only way that he could attack you? What about outside the Council area? What about… I don’t know… assassinating you right now?”

“We’re… being careful,” Sheida said. “Let’s just say that Paul doesn’t know where I am at any time, including right now.”

“There are ways, Sheida,” Edmund said, gesturing around. “Even for a Council member. There’s more than just the Net. And you know that even the Council doesn’t have full control of it. Only Mother does.”

Sheida smiled and shrugged, chuckling. “Edmund, we’re both old. And I hope, to an extent, wise. I have protectors.”

Edmund paused and raised an eyebrow, then shrugged in agreement. “Don’t we all.” He took a sip of his wine and swished it around, looking at the ceiling. “In a way I almost agree with Paul.”

“Surely not,” Sheida said, eyeing him carefully.

“Well, not the method, ” Talbot added with a grimace. “But we are lotus-eaters. And even waiting until the gene pool gets down to only women who are programmed to want babies won’t help that. But I have to admit that his method truly sucks so many ways I don’t think even you have worked it all out.”

“It’s bad, but how bad?”

“Well, damn,” he thought about that for a moment composing his thoughts. “Okay, increasing population growth ‘naturally’ requires all sorts of factors. First of all, you have to have natural childbirth and no contraception.”

“Ugh,” Sheida said, looking down. “I don’t think so!”

“Furthermore, you have to have women who are more or less ‘owned’ by males, otherwise after the first one or two children the majority of women decide they don’t want to do that again!”

“What about societal conditioning?” Sheida asked. “Taking the devil’s advocate position.”

“Generally requires religion for widespread utility,” Paul said, shrugging. “But the point is that the technological and economic conditions for population growth are contrary to technological development. There are occasional times in history where that has been violated, for a generation or so, but over the course of history, over the growth period that Paul is talking about, then you’re talking about a society that has to be in preindustrial conditions. And that means that there can’t be technological development.”

“Special groups?” Sheida asked.

“Most real advancements grow from… an environment that supports development. If all you have is serfs and a few technology wizards then the technology wizards are working in a research vacuum. So Paul can have technological development or population growth. But in a postindustrial, postinformation society, you very rarely get both.” He paused and looked thoughtful but then shook his head. “There has been exactly one society historically that has combined both over more than a generation. And it was an… enormously odd unlikelihood that would be impossible to recreate under these conditions.”

“Let me be clear about this,” Sheida said carefully. “You are on my side.”

“Oh, yes,” Edmund said. “If Paul’s planning on creating a centralized planning situation and forcing people into molds, he has to be stopped. He has no idea what that means. Not really.”

“So what do we do?” she asked. “Edmund, you’re just about the only real expert in warfare left on Earth.”

“Nah, just the only one you trust,” the smith replied. “I don’t know the conditions. Weapons?”

“No, none, no blades anyway,” she added thoughtfully. “No projectile weapons, explosives won’t work under the protocols anyway.”

“If they’re planning a physical attack on you at the Council meeting there has to be a way to hurt you,” he pointed out. “Is Paul trained in hand-to-hand combat? Killing a person hand-to-hand is difficult.”

“No, and we have Ungphakorn and Cantor on our side,” Sheida pointed out. “I’d take Cantor over Chansa in a fight any day.”

“Porting?”

“The Council Chamber is sealed to entry for any but members, without permission. And no porting is permitted, in or out. They cannot call for reinforcements. But, nor can we.”

“Poison?”

“Transmission method?” she asked. “They cannot bring projectors in, our own fields would soon detect contact or aerial poisons, and no harmful species are permitted in the room.”

“Poison is subtle,” Edmund pointed out. “There are binary poisons; they could have taken an antidote…”

“Well, I won’t drink anything if they ask,” she said with a winsome smile.

“You’re sure of what you think?” the smith asked.

“I’ve been reading people for a long time,” Sheida said. “Paul is planning something. Something big. Something big enough that he thinks there won’t be anything I can do about it. I can’t imagine what it could be but seizing control of the Council and that would take seizing the Keys. My coalition is solid.”

“Well, I’ll show you a few tricks and there are a few things that you can probably get in the Council Chambers that won’t be considered threatening by Mother,” he said. “Beyond that, there’s not much I can do.”

“Thank you Edmund,” Sheida said. “Just talking about it has helped. Cantor just gets… very ‘bearish’ and Ungphakorn gets cryptic. You just get logical.”

“I’ve had more practice,” Talbot replied. “Both at thinking about violence and having people try to kill me. Comes of growing up wanting to be a hero,” he added sadly.

Herzer’s mount shifted under him restlessly dancing a crow-hop to the side; clearly it was more avid for the battle than he.

Herzer tapped it on the mane with his rein hand, shifting his lance in the other. “Ho, Calaban,” he said absently. The north wind blew the smell of wood smoke and less savory scents from the orc encampment on the ridge above and he scanned its defenses from the cover of the woodline. It was an even bet that they had spotted him, but they weren’t pouring out to attack. That meant either that there were few of them or that they were unusually well led, for orcs. The first of course would be wonderful, but the latter was much more likely. The force that had descended on the local towns was not small; there had been at least twenty in the group that attacked Shawton. Figuring a quarter of that for guards on the camp, that meant at least twenty-five up there. And they hadn’t left on a raid, not by day. That meant they were holing up.

The main entrance was a narrow defile on the south side with a guarded gate at the top. On the west there was another gate, this one up a steep, tortuous switchback. That was quite impossible on a lone-hand raid. As was climbing to the cliffs above the emcampment; Herzer didn’t have the gear and if he got into a fight in the camp he’d need his armor to survive.

The battle was both real and unreal. The area was “real,” an unhabited area of eastern Norau not far from his house. The camp and palisades, as well as the cleared areas around it, had been constructed for him as part of the “enhanced reality” game that he was running. The horse, orcs and other defenders, if any, were constructs of nannites and powerfields. The horse that he sat was almost fully “real” but didn’t have the individuality of real horses. It was as close to “reality” as he could get, though, given his limited power budget. It would have been much “cheaper” to build a palace on top of a mountain than to create this battlefield. But everyone had their priorities.

He kept the primary objective — rescue the hostage — in mind, but the question was how. Realistically, if he could keep them moving around, he was a match for twenty orcs. They were strong and fast but relatively clumsy and poor fighters. Even in plate and mail he should be able to outmaneuver them. And his armor was proof against most of their weapons.