Things Fall Apart: Chapter 49

This chapter is double-length. I considered breaking it up, but hey, I skipped last week, so you get one big chapter to make up for it!

Newer York, en route to Briefing One; 6 Tammuz 2541 AS, midday

The ride to Briefing One began much as the ride to the embassy had ended. They walked to the station, accompanied by the same two members of embassy security that had accompanied them from the docking lounge. The police were absent this time, which Singer merely noted as interesting without trying to interpret it yet. Except for the dress uniforms, they were just folk commuting. Certainly, everyone else in the queue treated them that way, ignoring the uniforms and the security and just nodding politely if eye contact occurred.

The station was not very crowded just now, and the next lift was going to be about a half-kilo, so Singer actually had time to take in the station itself. She saw that in fact there were three similar embarkation points, allowing for up to three cars in motion up or down the spoke at any time. Given how long the ride had taken, this made sense to her. It also allowed for considerable redundancy. If each spoke had three shafts, and each ring had six spokes, it would take a fairly large calamity to isolate a ring from the core.

They waited, making small-talk and otherwise, in Singer's case, just being a tourist and peering around while trying not to appear too intrusive. Her childhood had been dirt-bound on Cherryh. Academy had eventually meant time on the school's station in Cherryh's orbit, but that station had—hopefully still had—a different design, and a relatively small permanent population. Most of her time since then had been spent shipboard. So any time she found herself on a city-station—or a planet come to that—her curiosity about how people actually lived in their environment took hold.

This also gave her something to think about other than the implications of the report from Cordé. It had borne both her and Alexander's signatures, but Singer could tell it was mainly the comm officer's work and wording. That single packet of nonary code itched at her. Was it an error, left behind by accident? A taunt? A deliberate breadcrumb?

Finally, the next car arrived, let its passengers out from the other side—Singer could see them filtering out to go their various ways through the station—and they boarded. The crowd was sparse enough that they were again able to sit apart without making a fuss about it. Singer considered the distances, and made a decision.

"So, you might be interested in this, Ambassador," she said, and just casually handed over her tablet, like she was sharing a book she'd been reading or something else perfectly ordinary. At least, Singer hoped it looked ordinary. She felt a bit of surprise from Ellison, but interpreted it as having gone against the expectation of waiting until they had a private car on the core train. At any rate, the ambassador took the pad.

Ellison had been a communications officer, and Singer had scrawled a quick summary as a prelude to the covering letter and report, knowing Ellison wouldn't need the jargon spoon fed. The older woman did not disappoint Singer, who felt the jolt as the import hit the ambassador's awareness.

The ambassador continued the ruse of having just been handed an amusing picture or something, snorting a laugh, but she took the stylus and highlighted, "nonary" on the tablet, and exchanged a more serious glance with Singer handing the tablet back. Singer interpreted that as a suggestion to otherwise stick to plan and not discuss it until they reached the core train.

Singer nodded, but handed the tablet off to Cadotte, who barely glanced at it before handing it off in turn to Espinoza. Singer looked puzzled at them, and they just tapped their head, from which Singer deduced Cadotte had basically inloaded the report from the tablet. I really need to keep that ability in mind, Singer mused.

Espinoza, by contrast, actually thumbed through the full report. He took a cue from the ambassador, highlighting and annotating as he went before handing the tablet back down the line to Singer. Singer realized O'Halloran had been left out, and proffered the tablet around Ellison to her, but she shook her head with a neutral expression. Singer nodded, then went back through to see what her engineer had left for her.

In fact, Cadotte had also been annotating it, again from their implant-enabled link. Both of her officers had made notations that Cordé was to be commended for her initiative. Singer was of a mind to field-promote the woman, honestly, but needed just a little more before she felt it would stick.

That, in turn, led to a moment of internal levity, with Singer imagining a future where, having never received any new junior crew-members from the Fleet pool, her entire crew consisted of field-promoted commanders and chief petty officers, except for one hapless, non-entity of an ensign, grey haired, diligent, but unpromoted.

Cadotte left a suggestion that Cordé's search program should also look for other places where the record was blanked out. Espinoza had apparently seen it, and added a notation, "...also any other strange encoding. Let's not get stuck on nonary." Singer liked that thought. If she already had a scheme for encoding something differently, why stop at one different encoding if she was trying to be sneaky?

That was pretty much the extent of the substantial notes, leaving Singer time to watch the screens, like the last trip, and just enjoy the ride. They were getting lighter, again, and she could feel it. Standing up at the end of the trip, she felt a bit wobbly. She saw Ellison's wry half-smile. "Takes getting used to. How have you been handling the Coriolis?"

Singer smiled back. "Honestly, I hadn't noticed it much in the Embassy. Not physically, I mean. I noticed the water in the sink and the shower misbehaving."

Ellison nodded, and said, "Yesterday, you didn't have much time here in the core. We're going to be here all day today, though, so if you start feeling odd from it, speak up. They've got some good, quick-acting drugs for it, and you all need your wits about you."

They walked gingerly to the exit, and from there to the train, where once again a private pod was waiting on a siding for them. As soon as the doors were closed, Ellison said, "Those cheeky bastards!"

"Maybe," Singer said. "Maybe it's a genuine error, in which case, it's nice to know the other side is fallible."

"You took Karensky's class, didn't you." It was almost an accusation.

"I did. Gotta take your advantages where you find them. But I'm also remembering his admonishment that not every mystery is a threat."

Ellison considered that a minute. "What, then?"

"I'm kind of clutching straws, but I still wonder—what if someone else is embedding these little packets hoping we'll figure them out, but the...you know, I'm not even sure how to describe whoever did this."

"'Enemy'?"

"I guess, but that seems awfully generic. Still, we don't know anything else about them. Point is, what if there's somebody on the other side, or with access to what they're doing, trying to leave us presents."

Ellison's skepticism was plain on her face. "I took Karensky too, so I acknowledge the possibility, but it doesn't really fit Occam here."

"It doesn't. Maybe I'm just grasping for something good, I'll admit it."

She saw the ambassador heave a sigh. "We need some hope, don't we."

"I've been wrestling with the morale problem for megaseconds now, trying to keep my crew going. And look, it could still be sinister; it could just be a mistake that left it behind when they're clearly thinking otherwise about covering their tracks."

The other woman's face turned thoughtful, then, as she said, "It might not be their only mistake. That high-power broadcast is still going. Unless they expected their depredations to result in a total wipe-out, they can't expect we won't try to backtrack that. Why is that still running? Maybe your proposed third party?"

"Could have disabled the kill switch, yeah."

Espinoza spoke up, then. "I've been giving some thought to the amount of energy that would be necessary to maintain a TC envelope over a great distance and still carry a signal. It's not trivial. It makes what we need to move a starship around look like a guttering candle. There's a reason we usually do it with relays."

They had passed through the stations that matched with spokes for the Staten and Brooklyn rings, and were pulling into the Manhattan junction. As the speaker announced this, Ellison held up her hand. "This is our stop. We're not going out to the ring, but just over there." Her gesture directed their attention to to a building a short walk away from the station. "Government Center."

"Hence," Cadotte said, "your admonition about gravity and Coriolis."

"Yep. That building contains all the central machinery of administration for the city, including what passes for the bridge of the ship."

Cadotte considered that. "I'd have expected that would be up front."

"There's not much reason, when you think about it, for it to be anywhere in particular. This beast isn't exactly responsive to quick maneuvers. People expect the command center of one of the most iconic vessels in human history to be something impressive, but it's actually pretty small. Most of the systems that keep a place like this going are widely distributed. Still, if we get a moment, ask the admiral to show it off."

"I'll do that!"

They disembarked, and there, at last, were the small police escort that had not joined them at the embassy. This time, something subtle made it much more clearly an honor guard. There was a clearly defined dance, in which the embassy guards moved to rear-guard while the uniformed escort took point, the leader politely saying, "Ambassador, Commander, gentles, if you'll follow me?"

"Certainly, Captain," replied Ellison.

The walk took perhaps another half-kilo—ten minutes, Singer reminded herself. That would be just long enough to appreciate the smell of green growing things all around the space. She imagined at least some of the agricultural odors were probably not so pleasant, but right now, with a stressful shift ahead of her, it was heady stuff.

Newer York, Briefing One; 6 Tammuz 2541 AS, midday

The escort led them into a lift, which went up five flights—enough to rob them of another small fraction of gravity, per the ubiquitous display. From there, they went halfway down a corridor, to a set of double doors marked quite clearly, in Plain English, Modern Hebrew, and hanzi, "BRIEFING ROOM ONE".

Singer realized she'd been terribly lax as a communications officer to only notice just now that nearly all public signage was done this way.

The doors parted, and the head of their escort announced, "Admiral, Governor General, Madame President, I present Ambassador Ellison of the Tau Ceti Treaty Organization, and her party."

Singer followed Ellison's lead as she paused for the introduction, then swept into the room. She got the distinct sensation of a mask being physically slid into place as Ellison went full "ambassador" mode.

"Good afternoon, everyone. I hope we haven't kept you waiting long!"

"Not at all, ambassador," replied the Governor General. For all that the escort had addressed the Admiral first, the placement at the table made it subtly clear that Governor Silverman held the chair, here. The admiral stood to her right, in a similar uniform to the one he'd greeted them in. Two strangers, one female-presenting, one male, stood to her left.

Each stranger wore elaborate face makeup and brightly colored hair, hers blue, his a riot of colors. Their clothes, however, were impeccably tailored. The strangers were as poised as anyone in the room, despite looking to Singer's eyes like rebellious punks from her secondary school years. No, not quite school-age punks. They were older. Perhaps her mother's generation, or her grandmother's. The hair and makeup made it hard to be sure.

The woman also looked weirdly familiar.

Singer had not been briefed on the choreography, but Ellison appeared to know the steps, and took the lead. "Madame President, I introduce to you Commander Elyah Singer, in command of Zephyr; her chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Ari ben Yosef Espinoza; and her science officer, Lieutenant Wayra Cadotte. I believe you already know my aide, Rachel O'Halloran. Commander, gentles, here is Robina Thirteen dor One-oh-one, President of Revi'i."

Singer was glad she'd done a bit of homework. The word "dor" sounded very much like "door", the way the ambassador said it, but Singer knew that it actually was Hebrew for "generation". Singer had not spent a lot of time considering the implications of having a name that was mostly serial number, but it certainly helped to explain the efforts to which even a planetary president might go to differentiate herself from the others of her series.

There was also something to the way the Ambassador had said the name that made Singer wanted to spell out the numbers, even in her head. Not "Robina 13-101".

President Robina Thirteen inclined her head gracefully, the light striking glints from facial jewelry, and smiled easily. "Commanders, Lieutenant, a pleasure even under such circumstances. Indeed, I could so little miss this opportunity to meet you that I quite jumped the queue, not waiting to be invited upwell. Most deplorable of me, I'm sure."

The governor was smiling at this, and Singer thought it an honest smile. The admiral was trying merely not to frown as openly, and mostly succeeding in being gracious. Meanwhile, Singer could not shake the tantalizing sensation of having met this person before. At the same time, given the obvious efforts Revi'ini went to to differentiate themselves, she could not think of anything ruder to ask, than, "Excuse me, have we met before, or am I mistaking you for someone else?"

The president, however, was still speaking. "Here," she gestured to her left, "is my secretary of state, Seth Twenty-Five dor One-oh-one." The man she gestured to had similarly elaborate makeup, albeit in a very different pattern. While the president's face was done up in a complex geometry of interlocking black triangles, her secretary of state had a stylized phoenix on his forehead, and similarly stylized flames across his cheeks, all in shades of red or orange. The result gave a fierce impression belied by the man's open diplomatic smile and nod of greeting.

The president continued, "I hope we all have a chance to talk more later, but for now, I believe you have a great deal to tell us."

The governor took up the thread, "Indeed. Friends, please be comfortable, and let's get into it."

Everyone took seats, and Singer wondered if her "side" had deliberately been given the view of the core. After all, the locals were used to it.

Singer looked to Ellison, retaining some small hope the other woman would carry the ball, at least to get things started. In this, she was disappointed. Ellison said instead, "I believe that Commander Singer is best positioned to present the briefing."

All eyes turned toward her. One last time, Singer allowed herself to wonder at the familiarity of the blue-haired leader of Revi'i, then set that aside and began.

All in all, it went better than it had with Ellison. For one thing, she had the distinct impression that she was confirming things that these heads of government, or their aides, had already surmised from analysis, even if most of their evidence was made up of absences.

For another, they all had less personal reasons to be upset. Surely they all knew people who had been affected, even leaving aside the people already in the room, like Ellison. They'd all known her for close to half a gigasecond. But Ellison, and Singer and her crew, had had their entire civilization disrupted.

Even so, by the time she was done, Singer's shields were fraying. Until now, she had not completely appreciated how much energy telling a coherent tale could take. Ellison, right next to her, was barely holding it together even though she'd heard it all before. O'Halloran was more composed, inside and out, but not by much. Her own officers were almost untouched, and Singer realized that what she'd just told out was simply the facts of their lives, now.

Across the table, Singer sensed more thoughtfulness, analysis, from both the admiral and the Revi'ini president. It occurred to her that this was their role in their respective communities. The governor was allowing more room for her feelings, but Singer still sensed the wheels of analysis turning.

Most emotionally engaged was the Revi'ini secretary of state, who was visibly distraught even without Singer's abilities. Singer recalled that title often went hand in hand with diplomacy in various polities. Seth, then, had traveled perhaps a bit more widely than the others, and might be imagining places he'd been now blown to pieces.

As if realizing he'd been seen, he looked to Singer and said, "Please forgive me. I...was posted as ambassador for a time, for the DSR, to the TCTO, the counterpart to Ambassador Ellison. I toured many of the organization's city-stations as part of my embassy. The thought of them..." He took a breath, let it out. "Please forgive me."

At any rate, his presence was explained. If the DSR had its own minister of state, which seemed likely, they were not part of this meeting; but Revi'i's was, because he doubled as a subject-matter expert.

It was the Admiral who spoke next, and more to the point. "I can see now why you came here, first, and not just the diplomatic reasons. You will certainly need to consult with the Institute. With the branch at New Norfolk...gone...our people here are probably the foremost experts...available." He was struggling to remain neutral, and in his struggles, Singer finally began to sense emotions from him. He was angry. Powerfully angry. Or would be if he let himself. Singer wondered if she should pry that loose.

Ellison, apparently, had no doubts about it. Looking at him directly, she said, "Jonathan; let it go. We're all angry here."

And here, Singer saw finally the real reason Ellison had held herself out from telling the story. She needed to have enough resources left over to manage the personalities in the room. That, after all, was part of her job, and one she was well suited for, having known these people so long.

The admiral growled, "Context..."

The governor gently responded, "Summarize. The commander and her people are not fools."

She saw Donato wrestling with it. Finally, he said, "Commander, I recognize that I cannot possibly be as upset, personally as you are at this...catastrophe. But you need to understand something about my...role. My office."

Singer, however, held up a hand. "The survival of humanity. Not just the DSR."

The admiral nodded, "Exactly. I know some people outside think it's presumptuous for any one person to consider that their job, but I do, and every admiral before me has." On the other side of the governor, President Robina coughed, and Donato shot her a sour look and continued, "Almost every admiral."

Robina offered, "You certainly do. Nobody doubts that."

Perhaps mollified, he continued, "The problem, Commander, is that we are culturally insular. I'm sure the ambassador has already briefed you as to why we have sent no ships to the rescue of our neighbor. We have none to send. They're all engaged elsewhere. And up until this minute I was prepared to justify that without a blush. But now? I am angry, not just at whomever had the psychotic temerity to encompass the death of so many millions of human beings, but at my own blind spots and how they've been exploited. Whoever wanted to do this to you was counting on the fact that nobody except the TCTF would be in a position to mount a significant rescue operation. No one else really has a fleet!"

"Can I ask you something?" Singer said after a moment's silence.

"Of course!"

"Why do they call you 'admiral' if there's no fleet?"

He snorted sourly. "It's a millennia old joke that stuck. It derives from an ancient and almost entirely forgotten entertainment. Hardly anyone would get the joke today unless they'd actually studied the history of my office. If you want to search for it later, the First Admiral's name was 'Fred Pepper'. Anyway, these days, there is a fleet, but it's rarely here! It's out there," he flung a hand wide. "Looking for new places to spread the diaspora! Which is suddenly more urgent than ever, you understand."

Singer thought about it from his point of view and realized she did understand.

He took another breath, mastered himself, and said, "Here's the good news. There are two ships we've been rushing into production. One's a refit, Capoza. The other is new, Anastaseva. They're our first ships with time compression used for FTL and not just comms," he nodded toward Espinoza at this. "You won't believe the headache I've had trying to get through to our engineers that jump drive, efficient and useful as it is, is not the be-all-and-end-all of FTL travel."

Espinoza could not help himself, and interjected, "Oh, I could believe it."

Donato eyed him, and said, "Hm. You probably could. I know something of the history of that ship of yours out there. You're going to get an earful when you get to Tau Ceti, you know."

Singer responded, "You have no idea how much I look forward to the possibility of there being someone to give me that earful."

"OK, point. Anyway, where I'm going with this is, if we can find crews, we've got two ships almost ready to go somewhere."

There was a question there, somewhere. Ellison caught it. "Well, my first thought right now is to use the one spur of relays we have back in commission to reach out to Haraldsdottir at Gliese-581. I've already got a report from her. They've got a bunch of hulls in drydock, but most of them were older ships in various states of disrepair or mid-refit, and right now most of the other people in-system are clamoring for more living space, not more ships, so she's having trouble getting traction on the idea of finishing one to send out, rather than finishing several of them enough to hold air and run replicators."

Donato nodded, and looked to Singer. She noted he had a handle on his temper now. He was already thinking about next steps, solutions, helping to get to the root of the problem. Singer was beginning to understand how this entirely undiplomatic person had wound up in his position. He said, "Your ship is the end-node of the network right now. Are you prepared to seed a new relay so the ship can come downwell? I vaguely remember something about shore leave, and you're going to be sticking around at least another few days to talk to the Institute."

Singer nodded, "We've been waiting for this meeting to ask permission. Our plan is to seed two relays—one to anchor the leg to G-581, one to anchor the leg we'll build back to Tau Ceti."

The admiral nodded, "Whatever other disagreements we may have with the TCTO—a discussion for another day, let me be clear, and not for now—that network was always something we appreciated. If the others have no objection, let's go ahead with that plan."

President Robina was nodding. "Absolutely. Even the leg back to G-581 would be good to have back."

Silverman, however, was looking more pensive about it. "I can give a temporary authorization, but I think this has to go to the Knesset."

Donato looked at her, clearly annoyed and a little puzzled. "The treaty we have..."

Silverman held up a hand to cut him off, and looked a bit apologetically across the table as she said, "...is in abeyance. Until Commander Singer can get to Tau Ceti and tell us whether anything of the organization's administration still exists, right now, there's nobody for us to have a treaty with."

If Singer had been expecting an emotional outburst from Ellison at this, she was disappointed, when Ellison said, "I agree. My own authority is mostly a matter of my sparkling wit and personality at this point. Singer is captain of Zephyr because nobody else is. Everything we've got right now is a matter of muscle memory and hope."

There was was a remarkable lack of self-pity in that declaration. Singer considered it a mark of everyone's respect for her that nobody attempted platitudes.

Finally, Robina said, "I think the commander is quite wrung out from telling her tale. I think we all have a great deal to think about, including how we can provide material aid, which means prioritizing those ships. Jonathan, I know Revi'i has held itself somewhat aloof from that project, and that it's irritated you. My Congress has already agreed, before I left. We will provide whatever is needed upwell now."

Donato was clearly not expecting this open a credit line. "What's the catch, Robina?"

"No catch. We're loading counter-grav barges with ore as we speak, to get material to orbit fast as possible. Send freighters to Anna Station to pick it up. Gratis."

The admiral clearly believed there would a bill to pay eventually, but still nodded gratefully. "Since it sounds like you were also about to recommend adjournment, I will set that up immediately, before Shabbat hits, so they can be on their way at 1801 tomorrow. Thank you."

"And I," Governor Silverman said, "will similarly get a note off to the Institute to set up a meeting for mid-day, two days from now." She looked apologetically at Singer, who accepted it with a shrug.

"Cultural anthropology was a part of my job," Singer said. "I recognize the importance of the sabbath here. And truly, at this point, I think one additional day makes little difference. Besides, I'd rather have your people from the Institute rested and ready to tackle a challenge than resentful."

"You're very gracious. I'm not certain I could be as patient in your shoes, but I'm grateful for it. Now: do you and your crew have plans for dinner this evening?"

Espinoza stepped in, "My mishpachah are quite insistent upon the honor."

The governor smiled, and Singer thought she saw a bit of relief, which she understood. It would have been too tempting to talk "shop", and that would be too close to work, which the time from 1800 tonight until 1800 tomorrow was supposed to be mostly free from.

"I believe that leaves them in good hands, then. If there's nothing else, I propose we meet, with or without the Institute's experts, the same time on Yom Rishon."

Everyone at the table seemed to relax just a little. The ordeal was almost over, and dinner sounded like a great idea, was how Singer read it, almost uniformly. There were nods and murmurs of assent all around.

"Then we're adjourned," Silverman said. "Shabbat shalom, all. You need not rush out of the room or anything if you want to confer less formally, but I hope you'll excuse me if I don't stay longer."

Ellison said, "Of course," but it was pro forma. The governor was already, mentally, out of the room and with her family, and her body followed not far behind. Donato also stood, made his farewells, and left, leaving only the ambassador, Singer and her crew, and the Revi'ini. Singer sensed Espinoza mulling an idea. Finally, he said, "Madame President, if it's not impertinent, may I extend my mishpachah's invitation to you and Seth, as well?"

The Revi'ini secretary of state showed the first fully genuine smile Singer had seen from him. "Ari, you think I'm going to miss your aunt's cooking given a chance?"

Singer and Cadotte looked a question at Espinoza in unison. Unruffled, he said, "My mother has also been in diplomatic service, and Seth also spent some time as an envoy upwell from the Cousins Below. I grew up with him showing up at table periodically."

Madame President, meanwhile, had a cool smile on her face at the exchange. "With that endorsement, I think I have to agree as well, if it will not be an imposition."

"We'll be a little crowded," Espinoza said, "But mom was pretty clear that I should nab you if you weren't spoken for."

"Then, it will be my honor. After all, I did say I was looking forward to getting to know you all better."

Singer smiled, "So you did."

The ambassador actually seemed...relaxed about the whole thing. These were mostly people she knew. It occurred to Singer that one thing Ellison liked about being here was this concept of mishpachah, this concept of blood and chosen family that was a core of this community. Being included, even as a guest, clearly pleased her. Still, she said, "With so many busybodies at the table, think we'll be able to avoid talking business?"

She didn't mean it, and Espinoza knew it. "I'll just throw rolls at you 'til you stop."

"Deal. Do we have time to run back to the embassy and change out of formal dress?"

"Plenty. Mom and Aunt Alexis both figured this meeting would go longer. Dinner's not actually 'til 1900."

Singer looked at the clock, saw it was only just 1600, even though it felt like it had been much longer. She did the mental gymnastics with local time and metric time and travel time and concluded that in fact, there was at least time to get "home", splash some water on her face, and get into undress uniform. Ellison had clearly done the same, saying, "Excellent. We'll head out directly, then, and get ourselves cleaned up for dinner. We'll see you later, Madame President, Mister Secretary."

In contrast with the ambassadorial formality, Robina gave a lazy wave. "Until soon, gentles."