Gears of war, p.14
Gears of War, page 14
“And teaching Marcus a new way of doing things…”
“Hush. If it works, there’s no reason to complicate things.” Anya glanced down at her hands. “You said Seradyne’s carrier is unreliable. What about the rest of their equipment. How secure do you think their system is?”
“As secure as anything on the planet, I guess.” Damon scratched at the back of his head. “I don’t imagine they have much in the way of programmers specializing in security, but I’m not sure there are any hackers out there trying to get into their stuff. Definitely less opportunity to do that sort of thing, since we really have no networks and no centralized databanks. Why do you ask?”
“Just a hunch.” Anya sighed. “The ministers are trying to assess resources and needs, in order to provide for as many people as we can. Seradyne is being very generous with their Information Services assets. They want to put television and radio repeater units close to every village and township and settlement they can find. They want to get people news and allow them to communicate with each other. If Redland Hills has surplus wheat, and Whitefish Bay has a bunch of dried fish, they can work a deal. They’re providing the service at no charge, but once we figure money out, I expect charges will begin to accrue.”
Damon frowned. “How would that deal work? Redland Hills radios out a bulletin that they have the wheat, then Whitefish Bay reaches out and says they’ll trade fish for it? So many ways to abuse that sort of a system. Seems as if someone—Seradyne most likely—would have to be the escrow agent for all such trades. Anyone who doesn’t deliver what they promise gets cut off.”
“Which gives Seradyne a lot of power, because they control the information.”
“Information and the economy.” Damon opened his hands. “Right now, if two towns cut a deal, things are settled in person, when they make the exchange. But it would be easier, right, if there was a central market where trade could take place. Those repeaters could broadcast on a variety of frequencies, so Seradyne could set up a premium trade channel and they’d be the market.”
“Exactly, Damon. We have a small trader’s market over at the Hahn estate every couple of weeks. Something like that, but on a larger scale.”
“But this would be massive, Anya, and virtual. Whitefish Bay can’t be hauling dried fish to Char and Hanover and Ephyra, but they could send it to a central location—a place that Seradyne provides. Seradyne gives them credit for the fish, and Whitefish Bay orders up a bunch of things to be shipped back to them. Seradyne’s credit becomes the fiat currency for the world.”
Anya nodded. “And once they control the market, they control the price of every item in it. Redland Hills and Whitefish Bay might agree on a price if they trade directly, but Seradyne could raise the prices to both parties. Even if there was an assigned middleman, Seradyne could decide to cut them out and refuse to trade with them, crippling them.
“I don’t want to think anyone would do that but…” Anya hugged her arms around her middle. “It’s not just a question of Seradyne sinking its claws into the world, but of Seradyne being the trellis upon which the world will regrow. We have to reestablish society, and the information technologies that Seradyne provides are critical for that, but that’s a lot of power to put in the hands of one man or one corporation.”
“It’s the sort of vital service that might be nationalized, except…”
“Except we have no nations and no army with which to seize control of the network.” Anya shivered as a cold tingle ran down her spine. “As you said, they could create multiple layers to the communications network. If one group and their allies get information faster than another group, that comes with a distinct advantage. And if proprietary information gets revealed…”
“Or news just gets spun with a certain angle.” Damon pointed in the direction of Hanover. “Take Marcus’ hunt for Locust. You want to keep that quiet so people won’t panic, which is understandable. Why yell ‘fire!’ if it turns out there are no flames? If Marcus and Brandon find nothing, great.
“But follow me here, Anya: Seradyne could spin the story about there being a hidden danger that the Ministry didn’t want to let people know about. That begins the erosion of public trust. Then, if they find some Locust but put them down, the threat turns out to be real and again the Ministry is withholding information. Maybe it turns out well this time, but the people wonder how many more instances there are, and…”
Anya nodded. “Moving against Seradyne now is impossible, because we need what they’re offering.”
Damon nodded. “Still, someone is going to have to keep a close eye on them, and limit their power. If Hasterwith decides he wants to be top minister or supreme minister or whatever you’re going to call it, he’d be in a position to thwart any attempt to prevent Seradyne from becoming not only the trellis, but the greenhouse and everything else.”
“No, you’re right.” Anya tapped a finger against her chin. “I’ll bring all of this up with Jamila. She’s the politician. She has the connections and the way to make people see what’s going on without getting anyone too alarmed.”
“And what’s your Plan B, Anya?” Damon’s eyes narrowed. “What if Jamila doesn’t turn out to be the person for the job. From my perspective, I think you’re going to have to be our Plan B.”
“No. I am not, nor do I want to be.”
“Shin brought you into the Ministry for a reason.”
“Yes, because of my logistical and organizational skills. And in the first meeting of ministers I got ripped into because I was wearing my uniform, suggesting I wanted to recreate the COG and establish a military hegemony.”
Damon chuckled. “How’s it gone since then?”
“Well, I think it’s been okay. I’m getting to know folks, and I think they’re coming to trust me.” Anya sighed. “Okay, you might have a point. Maybe we do need a Plan B, but I’m adamant. I do not want to be a politician.”
“Yes, Madam Minister.” She balled a hand into a fist, and he cringed. “Now, what do your logistical and organization skills suggest?”
Anya gave him one of those I-really-hate-you-right-now stares, which only broadened his grin. “Okay, diversionary tactic. If Seradyne is looking to lock up the economy, then we diversify it. When ministers tour here tomorrow, show them the algae ponds. They should be able to recreate that technology pretty quickly, right?”
Damon nodded. “Which means each settlement can become food secure, taking food trade from a necessity to a luxury, making it harder for anyone to manipulate prices. What else?”
“We suggest an ancillary aspect to rebuilding. Every block of buildings will include space for community events, education, and the preservation of traditional cultural items: food, holidays, artwork, hobbies, games. We use those to build local pride and identity, then work to share the recovered arts between settlements. It will bring people together, and make it more difficult to divide them later.”
“Good angle, Anya. Seradyne ought to like that because the educational centers could be where their big screens and communications nodes get located. It would put them in the heart of every community, but not at the heart of every community.” Damon smiled. “This is the Anya Stroud I remember—the rebellious streak surfaces.”
“Flatterer.” Anya chewed her lower lip for a second. “With your DeeBees, could you get started on building a prototype settlement and community center?”
“Sure. I’ll toss in exterior walls that will make each settlement a little fortress. You can put murals and other art on the inside walls so it won’t seem so sterile, but it’ll also be a hedge against disaster if there are more grubs out there.”
“Great.” Anya looked down at her hands again. “Now here’s the heavy lift. Can you hack into Seradyne’s systems, look around, see if any of what we’ve discussed is actually going on?”
Damon looked at her, his face slack, eyes blinking. “I think it would be very ill-advised for a member of the Ministry to ask me to commit an act of industrial espionage.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You realize we don’t have laws against that yet.”
“Regardless, to request an attack on the personal property and business of another minister, if revealed, could have all sorts of negative blowback.”
“So you won’t do it?”
“This is me, Anya.” Damon shook his head. “I’ve already done it on a local facility. Had to crack their systems so I could figure out how to defend myself when they come after mine. I’m in. Everything seems legit. Their encryption of communications between branch offices is pretty robust. Only important things go out in those encrypted radio broadcasts. The rest is slow, over reconstructed copper lines. I bet they courier a lot of info, too.”
“You could have mentioned this earlier…”
“Plausible deniability. The good thing is that we still can use the MilNet as a secure line of communication, as needed. And since we suspect Seradyne is going to be weaponizing data, might I suggest we prepare to give them false information to contaminate their data pool, should the need arise.”
Anya rubbed a hand over her forehead. “As much as I wasn’t a fan of the terror, blood, and death, there was a simplicity to fighting Locust, as opposed to dealing with other human beings.”
“Locust were the prelims, and humanity won. Now we get to fight humanity for the championship.”
“Why can’t we just remain focused on rebuilding?”
“Because the survivors don’t realize how close we were to losing it all—and, the fact is, we’re not wholly in the clear yet.” Damon waved her over to a small hydroponic gardening station. “When the last of the grubs and glowies died, they shelled up, right? There’s crystal residue all over the place.” He pointed to the experiment. “Plants on the left are getting a five percent infusion of that. On the right, soil that’s clean and conditioned.”
Anya studied the plants for a minute, but even the most cursory glance showed a marked difference. The tainted plants rose to three-quarters the height of the others. They weren’t as deeply or brightly colored, and the leaves had all become desiccated, curling up along the edges.
“Is it too soon to know if they will bear fruit?”
“I’m not even sure they’re going to blossom. Root balls are shallow, so while they can live here in the lab, outside, in the soil, a good stiff wind will tear them out of the ground.” Damon nodded toward another part of the lab. “I’m also going to run similar tests using mice. I’ve been breeding some strains from field mice, so we’ll need new baselines to evaluate the results. But I’ll see what the crystal will do to them, and then see how much crystal gets through into the food chain. This is another reason why the algae food program is so important in the short term.”
Anya pressed a hand to her throat. “Is there any way to clean the soil?”
“Too early to tell. Clean soil I’m using here was already stored at the facility.”
“Okay. I know you don’t want anyone in the lab tomorrow, but this is vitally important. Can you have these samples set up someplace where you can explain this to all the ministers? This is a legitimate crisis, and we need to get everyone united in making sure they remove the toxic soil as they rebuild. They can help search for a way to clean it, too. This will bring home the harsh reality that we’re not out of the woods yet.”
“And perhaps sow a bit of concern about trading food with other places before they’ve agreed to protocols for growing it clean?” Damon smiled. “Cutting into that central market idea, yet again.”
Anya smiled back. “For a Plan B constructed on the fly, I think it will work. Jamila can make it work.”
“Work quite well, I hope, Madam Minister.” Damon nodded smartly. “And in this, I am most pleased to be of service.”
6: GRANITE GORGE
HANOVER, SERA
16 BOUNTY 18 A.E.
Marcus held up a gloved fist as he crouched. He’d seen something through the brush, in the late afternoon light. He pointed in its direction, then at his own eyes, and back toward the shadow.
Brandon, who had stopped at the first hand signal, cut off to the right and began to loop his way around toward the target, bringing his rifle to hand.
Marcus, encased in his armor, raised his Lancer and covered the dark blob. His breathing remained steady and he locked in on the target. Until he knew what it was, he wouldn’t pull the trigger, but if it moved aggressively at Brandon, he’d burn it from existence.
Brandon came back into view about five yards beyond the unknown target. He stared for a moment, then slung his rifle over his shoulder and waved Marcus forward. Brandon advanced and dropped to his knees.
“It’s okay, son, we got you.”
Marcus cut straight through the brush, ignoring the branches scourging his arms, bracken and brambles tugging at his legs. He kept his eyes scanning for anything beyond the small clearing where Brandon knelt, but saw nothing. Then he reached Brandon.
“Oh, shit.”
Brandon rolled a young man over onto his back. The kid couldn’t have been much more than twelve. He’d had his hair shaved off and he was nothing but skin and bones. He wore a ragged loincloth and a threadbare sweatshirt which had lost one sleeve and most of the lower half. The kid hadn’t washed in a long time, and had new and livid welts over his thighs and stomach.
“Easy.” Brandon lifted the kid’s head and got him to drink a bit from his canteen. “Who are you? What are you doing out here?”
The young man stared up at them, shivering and whimpering.
Marcus lifted the kid’s left arm, the bare one. “Ligature marks on the wrist.”
“I saw. This wrist and the ankles, too.”
“Right, but this is the weird thing.” Marcus rotated the kid’s wrist, exposing a curved line of round scars. “That’s a grub bite.”
“You kidding me?”
Marcus shrugged. “Well, never seen a bite healed over like this, but I’ve seen the mouths up close, and I’d bet on it.”
Brandon rubbed his thumb over the round scars. “That looks fairly fresh. I heard stories of grubs kidnapping children, just didn’t think they were real.”
“Yeah, stories to keep kids in line. Also unfortunately true.” Marcus glanced over at where a piece of the sweatshirt had caught on a branch. “Can you keep him quiet?”
Brandon nodded and scooped the boy up in his arms. He pulled back as Marcus advanced. The Gear moved to the tree, keeping the trunk between him and the kid’s line of approach. No mistake about the cloth, it had come from the sweatshirt.
Kid was running, caught his ankle there on that deadfall and crashed down where we found him. Too exhausted to run anymore.
Something moved out in the lengthening shadows. It covered an arc that cut across the kid’s path, then went further, traveling downwind. Marcus couldn’t see it, save in shadows. Low and bulky, it moved with a herky-jerky gait that suggested it was broken or wounded, but it made no sound. And every so often it crossed the space between trees, very quickly. He couldn’t remember ever having seen anything like that, and with a chill cutting at his spine, he glanced down to check how many bullets he had in the Lancer.
The thing stopped moving, then rose on hind legs. The shoulders canted unevenly and for a heartbeat he expected it to fall over. Then it launched itself forward, clawing at the ground as it came. It slammed into a small tree, snapping the trunk, then bounced off a larger one—which pointed it straight at Marcus.
Without thinking Marcus brought the Lancer’s muzzle up and hit the trigger. Shell casings arced out in a smoking chain. The rifle lipped flame. Bark exploded from trees. Splinters flew in sharp shrapnel clouds. The shadow beast grunted and jerked, but didn’t slow down. It burst through the trees into the small clearing.
The grub roared and leaped toward Marcus.
He continued firing, the bullets chewing their way through the creature’s pale flesh. Still, the gunfire wasn’t stopping it, so Marcus triggered the chainsaw. The bayonet’s scything blades whirred. The Gear lunged upward, impaling the grub through the sternum. Blood spattered, acrid mist stinging Marcus’ nostrils. He twisted, using the grub’s momentum, and slammed it into the tree, snapping its spine. He lunged again, stabbing the bayonet down into the grub’s vitals, then ground it up and down before sawing it out through the thing’s belly.
The grub slid to the base of the tree, its guts splashing out over gnarled roots. Marcus pulled back, already slapping a new clip into the Lancer when something hit him hard in the chest. He flew back, smacking heavily against another tree. He saw stars, then heard the rifle report. He couldn’t breathe, and the Lancer had bounced away four or five feet to the left.
A skinny man carrying a rifle came running forward. Horror washed over his face as he looked down at the dying grub trying to claw its guts back into its body.
“Oh, hell, why did you have to go and do that?” The man, whose commitment to personal hygiene made the child look positively pristine, stomped his feet and pointed the rifle at Marcus’ head. “Daddy’s gonna be so angry. He’s gonna… Oh no, ain’t my fault. Dodger, he’ll be mad, but he’ll like that armor you got there.”
He raised the rifle and took aim.
Then his head exploded. Everything from the bridge of his nose up sprayed out in a glistening gush that painted trees, leaves, and even spattered the grub. The man’s corpse remained erect for a moment, then pitched forward, falling at Marcus’ feet.
Brandon ran over, his hunting rifle’s upper barrel smoking.
“How bad?”
“Barely bruised. Armor.” Marcus pulled himself into a sitting position against a tree. “Nice shot. In half-light, too.”
“Guy once told me to make the first shot count. Might not get a second one.”
“Words to live by.” Marcus recovered his Lancer, shook blood off the bayonet, and the two men approached the grub. “Careful. Some of them take a bit of time to die.”
“Noted.” Brandon poked the grub’s foot. “I think you did the job on this one.”
