[This is a chapter from my latest novel, a sequel to The Fall of Doc Future and Skybreaker’s Call. The start is here, and links to my other work here. It can be read on its own, but contains spoilers for those two books. I try to post new chapters about every two weeks, but I’m currently also rewriting Fall, so there will sometimes be short stories and vignettes if I don’t have a new chapter ready. I’m aiming for a vignette in late December and the next chapter in early January.]

Previous: Chapter 31

Two statues and a mural were frozen in slow time, paused while Flicker thought at high speed. They would notice nothing until she slowed down again.

Jumping Spider was not a friend. She had too many layers, and too abrasive a surface, for Flicker to like her. But Flicker respected her, and trusted her competence. Jumping Spider had been a superhero and spy for the entire Lost Years–and survived.

And she said things to Flicker that no one else did. And Flicker could listen to them, from someone who wasn’t a friend.

Flicker never had to listen to anyone. She could always just leave. Ever since her continuous memories began at age nine, that had been precious to her, essential to her sanity. Doc and everyone else adapted, to that and other things. So Flicker had been spoiled. How not? And in her early teen years, boiling with impatience and too unwary of the limits of her data, she’d made mistakes. She still had flashbacks of guilt from some of the consequences.

‘A bloodthirsty, spoiled, fifteen-year-old brat throwing a temper tantrum,’ was a very emotionally loaded description. But that didn’t mean it was wrong. Jumping Spider was pushing. Seeing if Flicker would react defensively, or speed up and think first. And what right did she have to complain about something that got her to think when she needed to?

So. Accept it, and move on. Next–the promise. It had to be Doc’s concession about government agencies. Flicker could treat them as criminal organizations if the Database acquired strong enough evidence that they had abandoned the Lost Years agreement. Flicker wanted to destroy the equipment and infrastructure that made them threats, without killing anyone. Stella, DASI, and Jumping Spider all obviously thought that was a bad idea. Why? Time to reexamine her assumptions.

Flicker activated the virtual keyboard in her gloves and texted a question to DASI without slowing down: Estimate number of expected indirect deaths that would result from my original plan. Five year horizon.

DASI’s response appeared on Flicker’s visor a few microseconds later: Warning–critical dependence on level of EDU political and military intervention.

Assume none.

That is not a realistic assumption. But as you wish. The distribution is bimodal, with a median of 600,000 and a mean of 8,000,000.

Well. Flicker had separated the promise from its context during one of her memory restructurings, to reduce her emotional reaction when recalling details. She could still remember the background; it just didn’t come flooding back automatically, unwanted. Doc had made it to end a side argument during their big fight. The one where he’d finally stopped trying to reason with her, and she’d spent the rest of that day talking to The Volunteer on a mountaintop.

Another question to DASI: If what I wanted to do was such a bad idea, why did Doc agree?

Warnings–Speculative intent query, relevant information under privacy block.

I know, sent Flicker. Best estimate using available data. I need a sanity check for my analysis right now.

A tradeoff, replied DASI. It stopped you from doing anything precipitate, and he believed that your emotional maturity level would increase significantly before the precondition occurred. And we have better models and more specific information now.

That fit. He’d been right. Even if she still resented him a little for not finding a better way. Flicker had clung to the promise, like so much else during that time, as something that let her keep functioning in an imperfect world. So she could continue helping, and being a hero, even if she couldn’t fix the things she really wanted to fix.

She had no excuse anymore. She could even permanently move to the Nine Worlds, if her emotions wouldn’t let her accept Earth as it was. The right question for her to ask was what would actually help.

She slowed down. The mural turned back into DASI on the viewscreen, and the statues became people again–Jumping Spider and Stella.

“I’m listening,” Flicker said. "What do you think we should do?“

"You? Very little,” said Stella. “And I’m not certain it would be wise to provide you with the details of what DASI and I will be doing. I can’t help you build a black hole, so–”

“Yes, I know,” said Flicker. "I have seven billion other people to worry about. But until Ashil and Journeyman catch up, there isn’t much I can do. So I still want an overview.“

Stella studied her for a moment. "Are you willing to give up your remaining emotional attachment to the mindset that required Doc’s promise?”

“I’m not going to give up my commitment to justice.”

“What you wanted to do wasn’t about justice; it was about satisfying your desire for vengeance without killing anyone directly. I’ll be acting as Director of the EDU, not your friend. And your preferences and instincts are still far from optimal for this. You might be tempted to change your mind and unilaterally interfere. You must not. That could significantly increase the chances of collapse and civil disorder.”

“Are things really that bad?”

Jumping Spider laughed, and Stella waited until she was done before continuing. "Democratic governments are more contingent than most people realize. A majority of politicians currently in office assumed their positions after Doc began acting as a stabilizing influence. They take it for granted.

“And none of them remember a time before The Volunteer. He acted both as implicit support for the status quo and as a focus for probability manipulation–and there are two generations of magicians who grew up with that as part of the background. His injury and convalescence have broken a long-standing feedback loop.

"Humans can only cope with so much at once before their social organization starts to break down. Black Swan, the UPP, and the Grs'thnk aid mission are bringing a lot of change and uncertainty. For good effect, but past a certain threshold that stops mattering. I’ll be adding more. Something that seems perfectly justified to you could push things over the edge.”

Crunch time. Stella was really asking 'Are you a grown-up now?’ and 'Do you trust me?’

Flicker turned to the viewscreen. "DASI? Do you think this is reasonable?“

"Yes.”

Flicker already knew what Doc would say. And Donner would…

Donner wouldn’t try to advise her–but he’d hold her while she made up her own mind.

“All right,” she said aloud. "I agree that I don’t understand enough about what’s going on not to get people killed. I’ll just watch if DASI says it isn’t useful for me to try to help. I promise.“

"Thank you,” said Stella. "The–“

"But I have a question,” said Flicker, turning to Jumping Spider. "DASI showed me the estimates, and I believe her. But how could the administration know the group that tried to kill me were up to something bad for at least three years, not know exactly what, and not do anything to find out more? While still giving them money?“

"Deniability, and the political cost of secrecy in a democracy,” said Jumping Spider. "That’s been a problem for a long time–hell, The Volunteer tried to warn Truman about it–but the Cold War normalized it. It’s not an accident that the Lost Years started so soon after the Cold War ended. The FSA has seen Doc as their number one enemy since shortly after the Soviet Union collapsed. He’s better at their job than their entire agency–and demonstrated it, publicly and often. Hiding things and lying to their nominal superiors were part of the culture at the FSA and NIA already. And even after the Lost Years ended, there was no political consensus on how to effectively root it out. The argument that the US still needed some kind of capability against rogue superheroes–and had to hide it from Doc–was just plausible enough.

“So there was no effective oversight at all–and a whole set of groups abandoned all electronic communication and record-keeping and went to personal contact only, in an effort to hide their various plans against Doc from him. But that made it even easier to hide from their own bosses, too. After you started to grow up, they realized that if they went after Doc, they needed to kill you first–because you didn’t care about deniability.”

“Damned right I don’t,” said Flicker.

Jumping Spider nodded. "Then Doc’s deterioration started. So they went ahead with the virus development–without telling anyone above a certain level. One of the things I was talking to Doc about during our little chats were various clues about how they were hiding–but I didn’t know they had Tabula Rasa yet.“

She gestured at Stella. "Then the highest level contact who knew what they were doing–and was up to plenty of other fun things as well–managed to get his brain exploded trying to kidnap a mind control expert who turned out to be way more dangerous than he thought. And she was your personal friend. I don’t know whether the virus makers already knew that; they should have, but paranoia and a no electronics policy limits your information flow.

"I’m pretty sure whoever was left in charge panicked, and decided you’d be coming to vaporize them all before long anyway, so they might as well take their best shot. Once again without telling anyone else. And you let Francine run Weasel Trap while you were off chasing the Wanderer, which probably fooled them into thinking they could still get away clean.”

Jumping Spider grinned. "Fortunately, Weasel Trap also encouraged someone else with a grudge against Donner, so your call for help got me digging in the right place to catch the delivery man. And here we are.“

"Okay,” said Flicker. "But if I can’t– This is so–“

"Hey, if it cheers you up any, I thought you did an excellent job at the Box. You brought the right team, found out everything you came for and more, and didn’t lose a penny of your damage deposit. I was impressed.”

“Huh. I guess that does help, a little.” Flicker turned back to Stella. "You started to tell me what you plan to do about all this.“

Stella smiled. "Yes. The first step will be diplomatic, and I’m going to wait until tomorrow morning, after the Earth representatives at Hiri’s war crime hearing have returned to their respective countries. That will provide helpful context. It’s essential that I clearly and publicly follow diplomatic precedent and rule of law–EDU law.”

*****

EDU ambassador-at-large Wilson, formerly of the UK Foreign Service Special Division, waited patiently while the American State Department diplomat read the summary sheet for the… communication. It would be hardly fair to call it a 'note’–the paper beside him made a stack almost as tall as he was. The microfilm and electronic media copies fit neatly on top.

“This is outrageous!” said the diplomat.

“On the contrary,” said Wilson. "It’s quite restrained. The EDU has proof that the US government financed the development of a biological weapon targeted at a specific person. It was then used in an assassination attempt aimed at that person–a superhero, US citizen, and EDU citizen–while she was recovering from injuries sustained destroying most of an alien fleet that had just attacked the Earth, and the US in particular, during a declared war. The EDU also has very strong evidence, despite extraordinary efforts taken by certain parties to eliminate it, that the group which carried out the assassination attempt did, in fact, act on orders from an agency of the US government.

“That is a war crime, a repudiation of the Lost Years agreement, and casus belli. I would advise you to pay close attention to the section marked 'Actions necessary to avoid war with the goal of regime change.’”

The diplomat pressed his lips together, concluding–correctly–that any direct response was way above his pay grade. "I will convey this to the appropriate parties.“ He frowned. "Why is the paper copy so bulky?”

“There are two copies, they include detailed supporting documentation, and it is important that they be available for those who do not trust electronic documents. You should be glad you are receiving something bulky. Declarations of war are usually quite short.”

The diplomat looked back down at the summary. "What does 'loss of presumption of institutional legitimacy’ mean?“

"I’m glad you asked. Institutional legitimacy is the difference between, say, a group of law enforcement representatives with a court order and a bunch of fellows with guns waving a sheet of paper. Loss of presumption means the EDU will be determining–and publicly announcing–which of your governmental actions are legitimate and which aren’t, until the investigation and any necessary extraditions have been completed. It is a counter-incentive to using the investigation as a stalling tactic. As is commonly done.

"For example, the EDU will be enforcing transparency during the investigations, at all levels of government, according to Grs'thnk transition law standards. That will be rather politically and legally inconvenient for you, as you have no experience operating in that environment yet–but it’s better than a war.”

“I see. When does the EDU plan to start implementing this… loss of presumption?”

“It already has.”

*****

The inner perimeter guard at the US Federal Security Agency headquarters lowered his binoculars and spoke into the intercom. "Visual confirmation. It’s Black Swan. And that thing she’s carrying looks like the spysat launched this morning, minus the dish.“

"Continue observation,” said the duty commander over the intercom.

“Yes, sir.”

“Shit,” said his partner.

“That’s what she said she was doing,” he replied. "Did you think she was lying?“

"No. But she’s heading for a landing inside the perimeter–do we shoot?”

“Hold fire,” came over the intercom. “All units hold fire. Nothing we have is likely to hurt her, and orders are to avoid risking damage to the sat.”

“Acknowledged,” said the first guard.

Black Swan slowed as she approached the grass in front of the main building. The spysat she was holding above her head was much larger than her, and weighed tons, but she didn’t seem to have any difficulty carrying it. She landed and carefully lowered it to the ground, pulled a small rectangle of what looked like paper from a cargo pouch, and affixed it to the sat.

Then she turned, looked straight at him, and began walking towards the guard shack. His heart pounded.

“Do you think she knows we wanted to shoot?” whispered his partner.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, without taking his eyes off Black Swan. "But I don’t think it matters.“

She stopped about ten feet away. "I returned your spysat,” she said. "Your agency failed to comply with applicable EDU regulations regarding Earth orbit satellites. A towing fee has been added. If the fees are not paid, any further launches will be shot down. Have a nice day.“

She nodded once, then took off.

"Did you get that?” he said into the intercom.

He watched Black Swan climb quickly into the sky as he waited. Soon she was just a black dot against the clouds, then she was gone.

“Yes,” came the delayed answer. “It came out of every speaker inside, too. Perform an exterior inspection of the sat. No physical contact.”

“Yes, sir.”

He and his partner approached the grounded satellite, not without trepidation.

“What is that piece of paper?” asked his partner.

He leaned over and read the neatly printed text, then read it again.

“It’s a parking ticket,” he said.

*****

It was midmorning. Flicker frowned as Ashil waved her hands at a holographic diagram that looked like the best projection of a multicolored, 9-dimensional pretzel that DASI could manage. They weren’t making much progress yet, because Ashil wasn’t nearly as good at coming up with descriptive language as she was with the underlying physics.

“And that’s the… Um… Need name you can pronounce.” She frowned. "And I probably need stop and eat. Helper complain I not have breakfast.“

An alert flashed on Flicker’s visor. "I’ll let you and DASI figure out a name, and then we can get some food–but I need to talk to Stella for a sec, and she’s finally free.”

Ashil smiled. "Okay. Will be here.“

Flicker sped up and less than a second later was in the main control room. Stella had taken her interface helmet off and was vigorously scratching her scalp.

"Yes?” she said.

“A parking ticket? They tried to kill me, you threatened war–and then you had Black Swan give them a parking ticket?”

Stella smiled. "Oh, we did a lot more than that. It establishes several precedents, and damages the FSA’s mythology of trustworthy competence. They are going to be laughed at–which will make it more difficult for them to drum up political support.“

Her face turned serious. "And it does so without significantly adding to the social stress level. It’s a start. The government hasn’t even had the meeting to pick their investigation committee yet–but Jumping Spider and Breakpoint are already back at work, with Yiskah’s help.”

“There will be more. And the investigation will get messy. But it’s not going to stop, or get swept under the rug. I promise. You can do your work, without worrying.”

Flicker took a deep breath. "Yeah. Okay.“

There was a slight change in Stella’s expression. An edge coming off, a minute relaxation. Flicker didn’t think anyone else would have noticed. But Stella suddenly looked a little more like the old friend she’d always been.

"How is it going?” she asked.

“Oh, Journeyman says he’s afraid he can’t tell me how he really feels about tensors without risking accidentally summoning something nasty, but DASI let me assimilate a little more from my high speed session, and I’m making some progress with Ashil. We keep having trouble with words, though…”

Stella smiled.



Next: Chapter 33

