Cassandra Kresnov: Breakaway Part 23

Sandy looked at Rafasan. Rafasan nodded encouragingly. Union Left. Neiland's support base, them and the Centrists a most of the trouble came from the Right. And she suspected immediately that this man, this Congressor Afed, was most likely offering a planted question-a prearranged strategy worked out with members of the Neiland Administration to steer the hearing in a desirable direction. So. This, she realised, could take quite some time. She settled herself more comfortably into her seat, stretched her ankles more firmly out beneath the table, and began to tell them about her life.

It was another three hours before she departed via the guarded side entrance, achingly stiff despite the comfortable chair and repeated, subtle attempts at stretching during the questioning. Parliament staff had somehow arranged lunch, plates of sandwiches, falafels and samosas for herself, Rafasan and the twenty-six elected reps, while the gallery had sat on in silence, and those who hadn't brought a packed lunch no doubt wished they had. Someone had even brought herself and Rafasan tea, which the congressors did not get, doubtless there was a staff shortage of such things, but the harried young intern had left them a teapot with milk and sugar lumps a a.s.suming, of course, that she did drink tea, common enough a.s.sumption in Ta.n.u.sha, addictive Indian habit that it was.

"Well, I think that went quite excellently," Rafasan was saying as they walked side by side down the hallway, kept largely empty of pedestrians for security purposes, Sandy guessed. Agent Odano walked two steps behind, and a pair of Parliament security behind him, in addition to the two who walked before them, leading the way. "All things considered, that is. You are a very good public speaker, I did tell the President that I thought it would be a good idea to get you to talk to the Party, I did believe you would make an impression, and now I honestly think you have."

"I'm glad you think so." Not prepared right now to argue the point that only recently, most had not thought it a good idea at all. But things had changed, evidently. Many things were changing very, very fast a for all she knew, the next suggestion would have her running for public office. She sincerely hoped not.

It had been enough just to sit before that double row of elected representatives and recount to them in broad terms, and occasionally specific ones, the general course of her life. The reasons she'd left the League. The things she still liked about League-side, and the things she'd grown to dislike. Her combat operations. Her combat history, from ever-changing locations across the broad, ever-shifting "front" of the LeagueFederation conflict. The battles she'd engaged in that they might have heard of. The majority of small engagements that they never would have. Her escape to the Federation, her impressions of the Federation, her first job, her first pay cheque, her first decadently "civilian" experience (dancing to African rhythms in a street party, she'd remembered a only she'd left out the bit about flirting with a very handsome young dancer for the better part of an hour's exertion, and ending up in his hotel bed for the night for some equally energetic exertions). Her perspective on Callayan, and especially Ta.n.u.shan, politics. Her feelings about the CSA, the SIB, the recent events, and the direction of Article 42.

She felt tired, and more than a little drained. As if she'd poured out something of herself in that hearing room, leaving the s.p.a.ce it'd come from somehow empty.

"Where to now?" she asked Rafasan.

"Upstairs," said Rafasan brightly, her stride light, heels clacking upon the smooth floor. "We promised some of the congressors that we'd let them meet you in person. Of course the Progress Party reps wanted to meet you, but a lot of our Left do too a especially now, after that performance."

"How many people?" With that familiar sinking feeling she got when being manoeuvred around by political people for political reasons into things she hadn't agreed to in advance because she hadn't been told about them. It was becoming a depressingly accustomed feeling.

"Oh, don't worry," Rafasan said dismissively, waving a beringed and bangled hand, "it's not so many, everyone's busy, so they'll just come in when they're available-you just need to shake their hand, say h.e.l.lo and be generally agreeable. I'm quite sure you can manage that for another hour or two."

She wanted to complain that she was beginning to feel like a zoo exhibit a but she didn't see any point in complaining to Rafasan, there was nothing she could do about it. In fact, there was nothing anyone could. Neiland needed her here, and she owed Neiland a well, everything. She only hoped the persuasion her presence worked upon the wavering middle-ground of Parliament actually came to something positive. For everyone.

The upper corridor was broad and more well travelled, with large, stylish wooden doors to either side, and many people going by who looked curiously as they pa.s.sed.

"The chambers are just up here a ways," Rafasan said, and they walked to an exquisitely decorated intersection with carved wooden panels to match the seamless patterned tiles on the floor a turned left, and found the big double doorway upon the right wall almost entirely blocked by a chaotic gathering of people engaged in animated argument with officials in suits. Several more whiteshirted Parliament security hovered warily on the perimeter. "What in the name of a ?"

The agitators, Sandy observed as she held determinedly to her stride despite Rafasan's surprised pause, did not appear your typical Ta.n.u.shan political power group. They wore robes of wildly varying colours, though saffron and cotton-white predominated. Some had long, wild hair and, among the men, tangled beards. Most, it appeared, were barefoot, or clad in no more than simple leather sandals. She counted twelve in all, at least half of whom were currently engaged in a heated, hand-waving argument with suited or uniformed officialdom, which appeared to be trying to remove them from their place before the big double doors.

Then several saw the new arrivals, and there was more commotion, and much loud, rapid talking in a language that sounded distinctly Indian but was not immediately recognisable as one of the five or six she could usually identify by sound alone. A young, sari-clad, barefoot woman was tugging hastily upon the shoulder of an old man, who was shuffling away from the confronting officialdom to observe, through the gathered crowd, what new arrivals came upon him down the hallway.

"Oh no," said Rafasan, hurrying to keep up and sounding much aggrieved, "it's Swami Ananda Ghosh a how on Earth he got over here from the Senate building I've no idea a Sandy, I don't know if you should go over there, I'll get someone to remove them a"

"Nonsense," Sandy said calmly, observing the group with interest as they stopped. The two lead security guards walked to their compatriots guarding the doors, and asked them, no doubt in polite, low voices, what the h.e.l.l was going on. "What language are they speaking?"

"Them?" Fidgeting with familiar nervousness at her side. "Oh, that's Sanskrit, it's the Swami's organisation, Sandy, I forget the San skrit name, but it means "guiding light," he has everyone in the group talking in Sanskrit so they can better understand the ancient texts."

"Sounds nice. I've only seen it written before, not heard it spoken." As the discussions continued, she eyed the distance between herself, her group, and the group of traditionally, but s.h.a.ggily, attired people blocking her way. All arguments had ceased, and all those before her were still, waiting patiently for the security discussions to end. Not all of them were Indian, Sandy noted. Only half, in fact. Two were European, one African, and the other three looked East Asian a though it was not a huge leap, she'd gathered, from Buddhism to Hinduism, the Buddha himself having been a Hindu once. "Sounds a bit Arabic, only smoother."

"It's actually, um, closer to Farsi, Urdu and Pashtun, it's one of that family from Egyptian and Arabic carrying on across to northern India-that was all a civilisation once, or a series of civilisations. The birthplace of civilisation itself, actually. Most of the old Hindu texts and stories are written in Sanskrit, you could say it's the equivalent of what Latin is for the Europeans."

Sandy spared Rafasan an intrigued glance. "You speak any?"

"Oh yes, I was rather fluent back in my student days a it's been far too long now, of course, I can't remember half of it." Sounding almost wistful. "I'll get back to it one day. There are poems in Sanskrit that are like a like nothing else I'll ever a"

She broke off as the Swami began to walk forward. He was an old man, and it seemed he had disdained the youthful effects of bio-treat- ments, for his gait was slow and he walked with a large, stout cane in one gnarled hand. The young sari-clad woman walked at his other hand, holding his arm. The Swami's face was mostly hidden behind a long, flowing white beard, and an equally long torrent of wispy white hair. Security stood to the side and said nothing, and the Swami stopped before her, clad only in an old white dhoti that wrapped up between his old, bare legs and over one shoulder, leaving the other bare. He looked at her, equal to her in height, and his eyes were dark and beady amid a maze of wrinkles in weathered brown skin. Sandy realised he was smiling, although she could barely see his mouth through the beard. But the eyes wrinkled up in joyful good humour.

"h.e.l.lo, Mr. Ghosh," she said pleasantly. "I'm very pleased to meet you finally." The Swami laughed, a breathless, triumphant little laugh, and half shuffled about to look back at his gathering and point to her in knowing humour. As if amazed that she spoke. Sandy raised a quizzical eyebrow. Rafasan sighed and fidgeted. As if slightly embarra.s.sed, Sandy thought. Embarra.s.sed, it occurred to her, like Vanessa had once been embarra.s.sed at the prospect of her meeting a particularly eccentric aunt of hers. And she realised in a flash that Rafasan was actually quite fond of the old man, as were most of his detractors, even some of those commentators who referred to him as one of the Senate's "lunatic fringe." But people had voted for this man-in the Senate, at least. And however cynical those commentators were about the Ta.n.u.shan population's appet.i.te for lunatics, Sandy determined that the recipient of those votes had at least earned the right for her audience, at least for the moment. The Swami shuffled back around to face her, the young woman at his elbow aiding him with practised skill.

"I saw you talking." The accent was very p.r.o.nounced, and very melodic. The beady dark eyes gleamed at her through the profusion of facial hair-lively with humour and energy-and he waggled his head for emphasis as he spoke. "You talk very well, for an inorganic construction." Again the short bark of laughter.

Rafasan covered her mouth with a hand. Sandy just gazed at him for a long moment, eyebrow still raised. Took a deep breath.

"Thank you very much. I think."

Another bark of laughter. "Don't be offended. I am merely poking fun. I did not live this long by taking life so seriously, you know." Smiling broadly beneath the beard. And Sandy found that, somehow, it was impossible to be offended.

"Can I ask how old you are?" she asked. "And why you haven't allowed any life-extension treatments?"

"Oh, but I have, but I have. I am one hundred and sixty-two standard Earth years, Ms. GI, and I have had many life-extension treatments. Many many. And you know what? They work! Haha!"

Rafasan's hand went back to her mouth, very fast. Sandy smiled, the raised eyebrow now turned somewhat incredulous. One hundred and sixty-two? She knew it happened, but the odds were very low, most people didn't get past a hundred and thirty. For a man to take life extensions and live long enough to look like a very old man a he must be very old indeed.

"I'm fifteen," Sandy replied. "You have me at a disadvantage."

"Indeed, indeed." Nodding agreeably. "But how can you measure what you cannot define, yes? And what is a number to you? A GI, with your tape-teach and preconstructed knowledge? Life should be measured in experiences, not in flawed human time. Time is another thing we should not measure, for it, too, we cannot define, yes?" Nodding again, eyes seeking her comprehension. "Only G.o.d knows. And he's not telling."

"And you have come all the way over here to see me?"

"Oh, it is not so far. Not when I have such a helpful and devoted personal staff to attend to me. And to meet you, I thought it well worth the effort for even this old man and his creaking bones."

"Why?"

"Why?" In great surprise. And he laughed again, and the laugh turned into a loud coughing. "Why?" As he recovered, and met her eyes again. "You have come waltzing into this city and caused such trouble, young lady. Such mayhem accompanies you, life here has been turned upside down and the ground has fallen away beneath so many people's feet, and you ask me why?"

"I'm sorry if I caused trouble." Calmly. "The cause of the trouble was already here, however. I did perhaps trigger the trap, but the trap was set well before I arrived. But I'm sorry all the same for the upset, it was never my intention."

"Upset? Oh no no, I am not upset. It has been my great pleasure to see this calamity befall this city, young lady." Sandy blinked in astonishment. The Swami beamed happily. "This city has been in the greatest need of a great calamity for a very long time now, people have grown lazy in their minds and lazy in their hearts. They worship but they do not comprehend why, they talk but they have nothing to say, they listen but they know not what they are hearing. All this a this progress a" He rapped his stick hard upon the smooth floor. "a hah, so shameful that it should be called "progress" at all. No, we were not progressing, we were walking backward, moving further and further away. Not progress. REgress. And do you know what from?"

Sandy found herself held strangely still, a slow, p.r.i.c.kling sensation creeping up her spine. The usually noisy hallway was held as if paralysed by some foreign aura. The Swami's cheerful dark eyes bore into her, and in that abrupt, single instant she truly thought she did know what he was talking about.

"Truth," she said quietly. The Swami laughed again, his head bobbing with great, evident pleasure. Reached his free arm from the young woman's supporting grasp to pat Sandy briefly on the arm, then returned it to the supporting grip once more.

"Truth, truth, truth," he said, still bobbing, as if in momentary prayer. "A most precious thing, truth. Never to be found, only to be sought, and then found in the seeking but never to be held in one's hand. Do you understand this meaning?"

She gazed at him for a long moment. "No. I'm not sure I do."

"And do you not understand, then, why it is that I came to see you?" She shook her head. "Ms. GI, you have brought us much truth to this city. Some of it has been most painful, but that is often the nature of truth, particularly that truth which is most unlocked for. And I also do believe, young lady, that I have found much truth in you." Gazing with a great, joyful intrigue into her eyes. She didn't know who was more fascinated. His hand trembled upon his stick, and she doubted it was a result of age. He seemed positively br.i.m.m.i.n.g with emotional enthusiasm.

"Please," she said softly, in that deep, paralysed hush that surrounded, "tell me what you mean."

"For such a long time," he said happily, "many humans have been so very conceited. We believed that we alone had souls a even," waggling a gnarled forefinger, "even we Hindus, who believe in the souls of animals and all living things all joined together in the greater expanse of the universe before G.o.d a even we Hindus did not always see, though many suspected. Our scientists tell us that all matter is by itself inanimate, do they not? And that all of the molecules that make up a human being, or an animal, were formed only in the hearts of stars, for that is where carbon was first born, is it not so? And so many have theorised that the soul is for some cosmic reason connected to the carbon molecule, and to the natural processes of organic lifeforms, be they carbon or be they otherwise.

"But now we must look at you. You, Ms. GI, who are not at all organic, who is made of artificial parts from the highest technology laboratories, whose entire being is inanimate, inorganic and not at all even alive by the terminologies used by a great many scientists and spiritual leaders before the coming of GIs, and GI technology, from the League."

He shuffled forward another step, reaching for her with that one free, frail hand a Sandy looked quick askance at the young woman, who gestured, and Sandy took his hand in hers. Felt the worn old fingers clasp upon her own with surprising strength. He smelt, she thought, of the old wood carving oils she'd smelt in craft shops, a strangely musky smell. This close, she could see his age, and count the wrinkles around his dark, smiling eyes.

"I came here to look into your eyes." A thousand wrinkles crin kling with an emotional, beaming smile. "I came here to see for myself that you are alive, and that you have the energy, and the soul, the spirit of a living being a Ms. GI, do you not see what this means?" Taking that gnarled old hand from her grasp and placing it upon her shoulder.

"The organic is alive." With a look of joy as pure as she had ever seen. "The inorganic is alive. The carbon and the non-carbon are alive. The soul of life resides in all things. Everything is alive. The whole universe, the very walls about us, this floor, the wind, the earth and the suns. The universe is all of one consciousness and life is nothing more than the dreaming of that single oneness. And you, Ms. GI, you are the final, the scientific, the spiritual proof of it all."

She was still feeling lightheaded a half hour later, walking a private meeting room and shaking those hands that were offered to her. She conversed on automatic, thankful that most of those who'd come to see her (and, inevitably, each other) were already somewhat favourable to President Neiland, and at least not totally opposed to her presence within the CSA. They wished for the brief rea.s.surance of a face-to-face contact after the hearing, that was all-a chance, as the Swami had done, to look into her eyes, and know this GI, this killing machine on legs, for a real person. It satisfied whatever human emotional requirements needed satisfying, she reckoned, to convince them that Neiland wasn't completely insane to be trusting her as much as she had. But she found herself paying little attention to any of it, in the lingering daze of her confrontation with the Swami.

She knew the basic philosophical concept. It was as old as philosophy and theology themselves. But she'd never expected to become regarded by a senior theologian philosopher, on a world known for producing such noted people, as the key and singular proof of such a concept. Rafasan had found the development exciting. So had Presidential advisor Rani Bannerjee, who was hovering around the meeting room somewhere, in discussion with one visiting rep or other. The Swami, Bannerjee informed her, though highly eccentric, was a leading light of religious and philosophical thinking on Callay, and commanded much respect throughout the Federation among people who followed such things. Such a vote of confidence could only be a bolstering support among a demographic of Federation citizens whose support had been sorely lacking to this point.

Sandy wasn't sure what to make of it at all. She knew Hindus and Buddhists had generally been less opposed to scientific progress, and biotechnology issues in particular, through the ages than the more dogmatic religions of Islam and Christianity a it helped to explain in part the long Indian embrace of technology and science through modern times, and their spectacular successes thereof. But why the Swami had chosen to uphold her as the example that proved the rule, she could not guess-artificial intelligence had been around in various forms for nearly three hundred years now, from the first computer based AIs in the mid-2200s to the first advances in artificial synapsereplication in the early 2300s, to the first truly synthetic brains in the late 2300s. That had been made possible by advances in quantum mechanics, and thus in nano-construction, enabling the creation of entirely new materials and processes, from individual electrons upwards, that severely blurred the old dividing line between "organic" and "artificial." League science, that had all been, product of the brash, youthful idealism of a new State that truly believed that its unrestricted science policies, and its utter faith in the combined systems of capitalism and scientific innovation, would utterly transform the future of all humanity for the better.

Debates over the nature of sentience, and the legal, moral and ethical ramifications thereof, had only multiplied ever since, and while the scientifically minded had generally been quick to adopt a broadminded definition of what const.i.tuted a self-aware, intelligent being, many religious groups had been far more reluctant. Hindus, however, had been the most progressive of those, believing as they did that the body was only the vessel for endlessly reincarnated souls, and seeing little reason why a soul could not take up residence in a vessel of artificial construction as easily as an organic one. So why hadn't those Hindus been quicker to reach the conclusions of the Swami, given that it was the basis of what most Hindus believed anyway?

Perhaps, she thought, it was her intelligence. Not in terms of pure IQ, for AIs possessed levels of intellectual function in specific areas that extended far beyond her own, or that of any non-silicon sentience. But more in her ability to think laterally, and to be more than her physical form appeared to readily dictate. AIs rarely took much interest in the outside world, and lived mostly in the networks and databases of cybers.p.a.ce-a psychological condition imposed upon them by their physical nature. Lower model GIs designed for combat were mostly illequipped, psychologically speaking, to do anything other than soldiering-also a condition imposed upon them by the design function of their artificial bodies. Their souls were not free, but were bound by physical constraints. And such was the Ta.n.u.shans' fear of her. Physically, she was lethal. Ta.n.u.shans feared that her psychological nature would follow the physical as logically as the tail would follow the snake. And yet she preferred civilianisms to simple soldiering, and refused to have her ideology dictated to her by her original masters and creators. A free soul.

Perhaps the Swami was not so much impressed that she was sentient, for that in itself was no big deal to any resident of the modern human galaxy. Perhaps the Swami was impressed that she was free thinking, creative and independent. That the universe was alive was a staple, commonly recurring belief of many Asian religions. That it was intelligent, and possessed intent, and meaning a Meaning. A human invention. A sentient invention, that cynics said had no place in the cold, uncaring universe outside of human awareness. But if she possessed free thought, and she wasn't even human, wasn't even organic a was that what had so excited the Swami? Proof that meaning wasn't just a human invention, but something inherent to the most basic structures of the universe, to be found in organic and inorganic structures alike? How often had she heard that old, philosophical civilianism, the "meaning of life"? Was what the Swami thought he'd found really that significant?

Her dazed wanderings were interrupted by a newly arrived trio, who introduced themselves as the ministers for Transport and Agriculture, and the Chief of the Central Modelling Agency. There followed a remarkably civil discussion about politics, trade, and the increasing resentment among the 63 million Callayans who did not live in Ta.n.u.sha at how all Callayan affairs had become even more Ta.n.u.shan-ised in the present crisis-the Agriculture Minister was from Cavallo, capital city of Argasuto, the biggest of the southern continents, and grower of most of the planet's foodstuffs-on the broad, treeless plains of the south where environmental disruption was least, and transgenic technologies made light of the infertile soil. The Agriculture Minister declared that his const.i.tuents had put up with Ta.n.u.shan dominance until now because of the politics of Federation-League conflict, which had until recently papered over so many regional concerns with greater ones. Now, he opined, the war had ended, and people were questioning the old status quo.

"Isn't that kind of their own fault?" Sandy asked him. "I mean, from what I've heard, the whole idea of Ta.n.u.sha was partly because the other settlements were all so busy squabbling about who should have the centre of power that they thought they'd have to build a new city to accommodate it, and partly because none of them wanted that kind of high-tech, mega-city development to take place in their comfortable, sleepy little settlements. Having decided that, isn't it a bit much to start complaining about the consequences now?"

"Absolutely," agreed the Transport Minister, a Ta.n.u.shan native. "And now none of them have to contend with terrorist attacks, paralysing security and ma.s.s street protests, either. There are advan tages to being sleepy little backwaters, too."

From another side of the room, a civilised commotion of persons gathering about a monitor screen placed upon a small, ornate table a several were shushing others, and several calling colleagues across to view.

"Is Neiland on already?" asked the Transport Minister. "She's a half hour early a Ms. Ca.s.sidy, please excuse me, it was a pleasure to meet you in person and I must definitely watch this announcement."

They departed, adding to the gathering crowd about the monitor, lesser aides and bureaucrats hastily making room a Sandy walked to a convenient spot by the rear wall, depositing her empty juice-gla.s.s and trading it for a full one from the table there. She leaned against a decorative wall panel with a good view of the carpeted s.p.a.ce, where all occupants were now cl.u.s.tered about one side. She opened a mental uplink, accessed the Parliament vidfeeds a difficult coding, but she broke it down, gained access, and a picture flickered to life across her internal vision, overlaying the room with that comfortable shift to near-focus.

President Neiland, standing behind a podium. Callayan and Federation flags cross-draped behind her a the press room, she recognised from similar previous broadcasts. Neiland was making some kind of official announcement. The ministers had evidently expected it a early, they'd said. Why the hurry? And why the timing, when all Parliament media were so obviously focused upon her own presentation in the Hearing Chamber, despite their lack of broadcast-access to the feed? She sipped at her juice, and listened in.

"a a long time in arriving at this consensus," Neiland was saying, "and I can a.s.sure you it took many, many long hours of negotiation with all the involved parties." The suit was the most formal Sandy had seen her wear-dark, collared, and with only a pin upon the lapel, and a small white flower, to lighten the severity. The flower, Sandy remembered, had been a gift from a family member of one of the victims of the Parliament Ma.s.sacre a month ago. The original flower had doubtless long since died, but was continually replaced anew by Neiland herself to remind all viewers, and political opponents, of the stakes in this most dangerous of political games.

"It has been no secret to many of you in the media for some time now," the President continued, "that ongoing debate over Article 42 has been hitting many roadblocks up to this point in time." On an abrupt impulse, Sandy switched to a wider uplink camera angle, and saw a full crowd of seated media, and a further phalanx cl.u.s.tered along the press room walls. That was an awful lot of media. The word had evidently spread that something was going down. An unscheduled announcement from the President. Something her closer cabinet members had apparently been aware of in advance. While she a she herself had been stuck in the Hearing Chamber for the last five or six hours, cut off from outside happenings. No one had briefed her a The timing was most coincidental.

Her gla.s.s had stopped just centimetres from her lips, eyes unsighted in the gathering cold chill that ran up her spine. And now she was up here, neatly sequestered away in a meeting and function room, while the real business went on in the central Administration quarter of the Parliament building. Not the first time she'd been kept in the dark of late. Ari hadn't wanted her chasing after Ramoja in the Zaiko Warren-had attempted to send her in the wrong direction. He must have suspected Ramoja would know something he didn't want her to find out a what, then? Who did Ari work for? Ibrahim. Who did Ibrahim work for? Sure as h.e.l.l not Ben Grey, not lately.

Neiland. Click, click, click, the pieces were falling into place with frightening, overwhelming speed, as she stood tense and utterly immobilised against the wall, staring into s.p.a.ce. Neiland inviting her to speak before Parliament. Now this unscheduled announcement. It all led back to Neiland, all this mad goose chase after Sal Va, the anarchist hacker who'd broken into Lexi and stolen information a Weren't Lexi a major player in the whole debate over Article 42? Big biotech firms had to be negotiated with, they held huge political clout, surely Lexi's top people had been in negotiations with the Neiland Administration itself, and maybe even Neiland personally a Oh s.h.i.t, what did Sai Va steal? Something Neiland hadn't wanted stolen? Something she'd told Lexi's top bra.s.s in those secret negotiations? Something so important she directed Ibrahim to put his best, least visible agent onto it, and to recruit the walking killing machine herself for extra firepower to make sure it got done, whatever nasties they ran into? And now here was Neiland in front of the full planetary media, saying something about a big new consensus deal? What deal could possibly be so big?

She rushdialed Ari's implant, came up negative as per usual. And discovered she was now quite mad and just a little bit frightened. Overrode the local codings with her best infiltration package, managed to acquire a partial lock on the local network's com functions, mutated a seeker function to Ari's mode of receptor software and sent it out a Parliament alarms flared, somewhere deep in the system, but she didn't care. Came up positive on a location a millisecond later, hacked that room with even less subtlety, which started even more alarms, got a reading on the receptor location, seized control of that room's transmission systems, hacked, opened and sent. No reply, receiver resisting a she locked the sender signal into a blank channel and sent him a blast of raw static on maximum bandwidth, and got an immediate sense of startled, hurried replies shooting out, trying to patch the various local and system-wide alarms she'd triggered in the securityintensive system. She nailed one of his patches with her most lethal League attack function and watched it disintegrate aa.. f.u.c.king h.e.l.l, Sandy, WHAT!!! What do you WANT!!!"

"You're in the d.a.m.n building," she formulated coldly, "I thought so."

"Well, clever you, what are you trying to do, get arrested?!"

"I'm trying to get the truth, An. What did Sai Va steal? What was it that you didn't want me to find out, and what's it got to do with what Neiland's announcing now?"

"Sandy," warningly, "I don't have time for this right now, I'm trying to monitor something important here a "

"You'll tell me or I'll fry your d.a.m.n circuitry so it melts into your eardrum. What did Lexi know that Sai Va stole. Ari?"

"Sandy," very firmly, and without a trace of the usual irreverence, "don't be a spoilt child. I don't have time. This is more important than your petty concerns, I'm trying to monitor something of crucial importance and if you don't get out of my frequency right now I'll get security to your location and have you tranqued and arrested in that order. "

He cut off. Agent Odano was suddenly at her side.

"Ca.s.sandra," with an urgent whisper, leaning close, "someone just breached transmission frequency! Was that you?"

"Yes." And to his baffled, alarmed look, "Watch the d.a.m.n monitor."

"a announce here today," Neiland was saying, "a new public amendment to the Article 42 process, an amendment I sincerely hope will a.s.sist in moving the entire process forward, and resolve many of the great obstacles facing not only Callay, but the entire Federation, and all of its members."

Sandy realised she was holding her breath. The entire room was utterly still, only the alarm frequency blinking in the lower corner of her overlaid net-vision.

"I announce here before you today Amendment number 15. The proposal put forward in Amendment 15 is not merely to address the nature of the present Federation system of governance, but rather to change it. And by change, I mean really change it." Staring out into the gleam of lights and half-visible spectrum-flash strobes of the cameras, green eyes piercing beneath sternly arranged red hair. "Amendment 15 is a proposal to change the location of Federation governance. To move the centre of power of the Federation from the planet Earth, and to relocate it out into the vast and growing colonies, from where it can better represent the increasingly diverse and ever-changing needs and interests of this great experiment in collective, representative human governance we call the Federation."

From somewhere amid the crowd around the monitor, someone dropped a gla.s.s. No one seemed to notice. Sandy knew how they felt. Speech failed her. Thought did. She was stunned.

"Amendment 15 does not merely shift the location of the Federation Grand Council, however. Amendment 15 is a proposal to relocate the entire bureaucratic apparatus of central Federation governancethe bureaucracy, the Federal Bank, Fleet Command and the a.s.sociated military apparatus, everything. All such branches need to communicate in realtime, with no time delays for interstellar travel, and as such all must be located upon the same world-if one moves, all must move.

"It is the collective opinion of the vast majority of Federation worlds that the present debacle of Federal Intelligence Agency powers running rampant over the rights of individual member worlds is a direct result of the corrupting influence of certain Earthbased powers that continue to run the affairs of the Federation according to their own unrepresentative agendas. Such agendas were formed during the war against the League, which is now ended, thus ending the legitimacy and relevance of many of those groups and their interests. It is time to return those powers to the people of the Federation, and to return them to the people directly, not have them wielded from a distance by committee and via request, but have them within the direct grasp of our hands.

"Furthermore, it is also the proposal of Amendment 15, a proposal arrived at once again after exhaustive consultation with the senior delegates from all Federation member worlds, that the Federation world whose infrastructure and star-lanes most suit it to becoming the recipient of all Federation bureaucracy is a Callay."

Another gla.s.s dropped. That didn't surprise her either. Neither, given the rest of it, did the last part of the announcement. Callay was the most logical choice, not only was it the best located, the best equipped and the most powerful, but also the most recently and seriously wronged. The political message was clear. As to who would buy it a G.o.d, she needed to sit down. That didn't happen to her often. Grand moments in history were things she'd read about. She'd never thought to be caught up in one so personally.

Move the centre of governance from Earth to Callay? Might as well shift Earth itself, all of Sol System, relocate it a convenient few hundred extra light-years closer to the vaguely defined Federation "centre." Her eyes shifted to the group gathered about the monitor, mostly stunned and silent, but for the sombre, meaningful stares of the ministers who'd known what was coming, and had no doubt been in on the consultation. A big secret, those consultations. Lots of people consulted, but no leaks. Or almost. Lexi! the thought struck her. Was that what Sai Va had stolen from Lexi without knowing it? News of ongoing negotiations to take the seat of Federation power away from the motherworld? Well of course they'd had to keep it secret. The moment the various Earth delegations got wind of that, there'd have been pandemonium-claims and counter-claims, concerted attempts to try and scupper the emerging Federationwide consensus Neiland was claiming to have achieved in this convenient gathering of Federationwide decision makers in the one single spot a The media uproar alone could have derailed the talks at that early stage of the negotiations.

And she realised she owed Ari an apology. He had needed her to catch Sai Va, the bullet holes strewn through the Zaiko Warren and the Cloud Nine gangster-club were proof enough of that. But, of course, he wasn't allowed to tell her. She wasn't cleared for that kind of knowledge-she was a soldier, she knew what rank meant, she knew that some information was cla.s.sified for a reason. Not to mention the precarious political situation that existed where she was concerned. He'd tried to keep her in the dark because those were the rules. She knew rules. She just hadn't learned much respect for Ta.n.u.shan rules yet. Until today she hadn't been given much reason to.

"What does that mean?" Odano was saying. Incredulity and puzzlement colliding upon his young face. "Callay's going to become the centre of the Federation? Where will they put the Grand Council? Ta.n.u.sha's crowded enough as it is!"

Sandy shrugged faintly. "There'll be room on the periphery."

"City planners don't like surprises."

"I think they'll come to terms with this one pretty quickly." Which struck her as a surreal conversation a the trials and tribulations of Ta.n.u.sha's various officious planning departments were the least of their problems right now. And she looked up as Rafasan came striding quickly over, heels m.u.f.fled on the carpet. Sandy half expected her to be jubilant, her lawyer's soul seemed to rejoice at moral victories, however bureaucratic in nature. Instead, her elegant face was drawn and worried.

"Ca.s.sandra," she whispered, leaning close, "you do realise what this means? For security implications, I mean?" It was, Sandy recalled, her job. Or had been, until the SIB had put it on hold.

"Earth aren't going to like it," she replied in similarly soft, sombre tones. "Not one bit. Most of the business and political factions probably never realised how important access to the Grand Council was to them until faced by the threat of it being taken away." There was, she knew, a strong historical precedent for that, involving the United States of America and the United Nations-the USA had nearly come to blows with the European Union in 2040 when a ma.s.s UN a.s.sembly had voted to remove the UN headquarters from New York City and relocate it to Tbilisi, Georgia, in the Caucasus between the Black and Caspian Seas. Power-neutral territory, they'd said, midway between the Pan-Arabic Alliance, Europe and Russia, and mid-distant from China and the USA a as well as being pretty. No one had wanted the UN left in the demographic "possession" of the then increasingly isolationist, xenophobic Americans, who they feared were already holding the whole UN hostage with threats of power cuts, traffic blockages and complications with the leasing arrangements on the property.

In hindsight, one of the better things that had happened to the USA, Sandy knew. It had removed one of the last remaining veils from the truth that politicians in the USA had found so frightening at the time-that their nation was no longer the world's most powerful, and could no longer simply tell foreign cultures, in which they'd never invested any effort in trying to understand, how they had to act. That reality had only sunk in after a thirty year withdrawal from the United Nations following the Great Relocation of 2040, during which time they'd discovered just how much they'd never realised they needed it, and had finally begun to re-enter the world arena with some sense of respectful decorum.

Maybe, she had to think, this would be a similar lesson for Earth. So many years of taking the colonies for granted. So much neglect and disregard. The a.s.sumptions of unchallenged supremacy, of Earth as humanity's so-called "indispensable world," a phrase its leaders never stopped using in their speeches. And in many ways it was true. Humanity would always need Earth. But Earth needed the rest of humanity just as much, something it appeared to have forgotten of late. This was the wake-up call.

"The Federal Intelligence Agency will fight tooth and nail, Ca.s.sandra," Rafasan whispered intently. "That's the Old Earth backroom club, newer Federation powers like Callay just don't have access to that system. We're not represented, our desire to stay out of the war's more clandestine activities made it so a our fault too, of course, and since then we've been paying for it. All Earth-centric businesses, lobbies and power groups will fight like crazy to stop this from happening, they profit too much from the system being structured the way it is now a "What about the Fleet?" Sandy asked.

Rafasan frowned. "The Fleet? Ca.s.sandra, I'm just the legal expert. Military matters are hardly my speciality a"

"Well s.h.i.t, I hope someone's put some thought into it, Fleet admirals are all elected through an Earthbased appointment process. I read about it in League Intel reports, the FIA has its fingers stuck into that too."

"I'm sure the relevant experts have taken all of that into account." But she continued to look somewhat alarmed. Behind them, the group cl.u.s.tered about the monitor had begun to depart, a gathering momentum that threatened to break into a stampede for the doors. Her network uplinks showed a surging rush of transmission traffic, in multiple encryptions and emergency priority codings a "Maisie," Sandy said sharply, grabbing Rafasan's attention with the nickname, "why did the President want me in the Hearing Chamber now?" As the room rapidly cleared of people, and bewildered security stared about in confusion.

"You were the final obstacle, Sandy," said Rafasan. "Certain of her own party were demanding to see you personally before supporting this amendment a she needed those last few votes to get a majority in the Union Party, Ca.s.sandra. A lot of them are still very opposed, she just needed those last, wavering few. They wanted to support this amendment, but claimed they could not be seen by their const.i.tuents to be siding with an administration harbouring a League GI unless they'd met the GI personally and allayed their fears, at least a little. They're covering their backsides for supporting this amendment, Sandy, it's just politics a You must understand that this was all very rushed, the President wanted these negotiations to continue for another several weeks at least to finalise support. Instead circ.u.mstances have forced her to rush it through before our opponents got wind of it and released it unannounced to the press, and she had to improvise your appearance here on the spur of the moment, particularly following the incident with the SIB and your subsequent suspension. That matter needed to be cleared before certain of her own party would support her on the amendment a"