Chapter 20

The AIs of Earthat work endlessly to find ways to defeat the Swarm. Part of what changed family dynamics in the Confederacy came from the need to find more sponsors. Enough data had accumulated to illuminate a few potential trends, as the curve of extractions began to approach the physical limit of the available fleet. A statistical anomaly appeared, containing promising tidbits, which dealt with environmental factors that supported the development of future sponsors. One information dissemination avenue became periodicals showing the importance of the concubine's role in the family structure. There was even an extrapolation based on the disaggregated data that hinted that second-generation concubines should be even more capable at fostering future sponsors. Some noncombatant sponsors actively sought out ways to better their dependents' chances at becoming sponsors.

Even though they were part of a conspiracy to wrest control of a colony, Paul Rodriguez, also known as Columbus, took his responsibilities at his job seriously. During the last four hours, he interviewed Pablo Morris.

Pablo was not in the conspiracy. Thirty seconds into the interview, Paul knew why. Pablo Morris met the definition of a rear echelon motherfucker. He worked in logistics. Even back on Earth, he worked in logistics. Somebody believed that his innate awareness concerning logistics could be transferred via sleep training sessions.

Paul felt a bit envious about Pablo's transfer to Barcino on Azahar. The man was not stupid, he knew his place. Pablo would still be a REMF. He would be on another side of the Confederacy. Paul would still be here with the pressure of Cassell's investigation.

Paul refocused on his job, trying to discern why Pablo Morris was so good at keeping his units in the field exercises supplied. This was part of Hotaru Takagi's plans for making Ordnance & Supply a top-notch model of efficiency. Pablo was her poster child. Analysis of his performance metrics indicated, tantalizingly, that his parenting skills boosted his effectiveness in logistics.

Two hours into the interview, Paul began to think that being recycled was becoming a viable option. In every other sleep-training project, the memory lifts were knowledge or skill based. Which set or combination of parenting skills had a profound impact on logistics were open to debate. Paul acted as the focus for Pablo while the readings were taken.

Pablo had to relate how his home life might affect his work. He started with the head concubine, Lydia. She was proving to be a diamond in the rough. A stripper by trade, she served as the glue that held his harem together. Ever since the new magazine, Kids and Conchs, started circulating, she had been incorporating ideas. Little things the harem did would often surprise Pablo. Lydia became excited about the Mind Meld Competitions being organized. She wanted not only her child with Pablo to become a sponsor but the other two concubines' children as well. Pablo had related an example about Team Wonder Women girls coming to Earth.

Paul remained calm. Pablo never knew how close his comments had come to creating an aneurism in his interviewer's brain.

The man called Columbus waited for his counterpart Lisbon to join him in his private study. He activated the secrecy globe. They sat down across the small table. In seven minutes, the concept of syphilitic Mongolian cluster fuck was clear in their minds.

"We are secure, Ben," Columbus spoke confidently. Under the faint glow, the conversation was unrecorded. "When I thought I was securing my place in a research and breeding colony, I was OK with this." He leaned in. "Killing people," he spread his hands, opened his eyes, and glared.

Ben Oliver reached up and lightly grabbed Paul's hands. "That, my friend, is why we need an exit strategy."

That did little to comfort. "Cassell is not a threat." Paul eased their hands to the table. "The bridge to the think tank's servers is still viable." Paul closed his eyes. "They are the perfect patsy for activities. Everything is set to fake the extraction ... Fuck it."

Ben waited for Paul to wallow in self-pity for a few moments. "Our illustrious leader has enlisted the services of anti-Confederacy forces in England."

"That just gives extra people to pop into a sleep trainer or testing unit." Beads of sweat formed on Paul's brow. "Can't the man follow his own protocols?"

"I actually believe he has followed the protocol." Paul locked eyes with Ben. "He is dropping letters into Pillar Boxes."

Paul cocked his head. "Pillar Box?"

"Ah yes," Ben smiled. "They are about this high." He held his hand a meter and a half above the floor. "A place to deposit stamped letters, metal secure cylinder, usually round and painted bright red. I think that in America your boxes were blue and rectangular, with a dump tray."

"He mails the information?"

"The very think tank computers you are using to generate a fall guy, he used to find useful tools to further his agenda." Ben spoke calmly.

"All that access is traceable." Paul began to breathe quick short breaths. The things he had created to pull this off stretched his creativity. Just to have those keyboards made and placed in the offices ... Paul pressed three fingers into his left temple to counter the pulsing. "You know we will be recycled."

"I monitored his steps," Ben smiled. "He is covering his tracks very well."

"This is not just one murder any more. Now we have, what, four?" Paul held up his hand, counting on his fingers, "Cassell, Zucher, Carter, and this Wonder Woman operative, four people. I could see laying the blame for Cassell on a few maniacs." He looked away, ending his statement.

Ben waited on his friend. As afraid as Paul appeared, Ben knew that his mind was working on self-preservation. The fingers on Paul's right hand began to play a nonexistent keyboard. Whatever the tune was soon engaged the left hand. Paul looked up. "Didn't his highness recommend a sleep training regimen?"

Ben began to try to piece the plan together. "I remember." Accessing sleep training details sometimes came in chunks. "I think together we can build us an escape hatch."

"Maybe..." Paul started to smile. "I think we need to hide in plain sight."

Ben cocked an eye, followed by a squint.

Paul explained, "We need to look at what Cassell might know."

The evidence proved to be overwhelming. Cassell's people had been accessing the data the King of Clubs had been storing in the AIs' legacy subroutines. Dark Memory was the name used by Cassell's mystery computer expert, Wonder Woman.

There was little to link the men to the escalated activities of the King of Clubs. However, their names were on the list for a new colony. The solution they developed depended on others' curiosity. He could mask his actions in a test of computer security measures. He would need to be finished in three days.

Ben Oliver, aka Lisbon, ran a final check of the Mortimer Sanction. The flash drive possessed a micro switch. Once the batch files executed, an insulated magnesium filament would burn through the delicate memory modules. A small puff of smoke would signal the destruction of the evidence.

In the morning, he was scheduled to observe a demonstration of applied Confederacy technology at Technische Universität Wien better known as Vienna University of Technology. He would leave four of the flash drives in the common student areas. Simple curiosity would do the rest.

All it took was a concerned student to plug the rigged drive into a networked computer. The firewalls waited to accept the message sent to a specific set of ports. What once would have been called a batch file activated the rootkit.

Paul Rodriguez, who Ben also knew as Columbus, hoped that their duplicity could be hidden in plain sight. One out of every three sponsors on the moon, who had at least three years of active Confederacy service, would be added to the list for transfer to the next colony world. The leverage the King of Clubs held over the majority of his coconspirators would drown in the deluge of data.

By lunch time the next day in Austria, the unaware student who initiated the attack decided the drive had been abandoned because it was faulty. The drive felt warm when he pulled it from his tablet. The slight odor of warm electronics caused him to toss the drive into the garbage. On his way to class, he plugged one of his own drives into the socket. The music folder popped onto the screen. His tablet appeared to have suffered no damage. He thanked providence for his good fortune.

Randy decided the best English translation of the restaurant's name had to be King's Cave. He would check using his tablet. For some reason languages were difficult for Randy to process. For about thirty-five seconds he thought the translation was Potentate Hollow. Before that was something overly disgusting.

The place was packed. It seemed there were several large groups celebrating. The ropes were up, blocking access to the upper dining area. Even the arcade next door was stuffed to capacity with several birthday parties.

Their table was in the corner, opposite the kitchen and restrooms. Sergeant Henri Capoue sat where he could survey the room. There was an additional chair at the table. Randy sat so that his back was to the exterior windows.

Henri tapped his chair. Looking up, he saw Priscilla Percy. Randy quickly joined Henri in standing up. He waited for the maitre d to help seat her, then he then sat back down. She placed a briefcase on the floor beside her chair.

Priscilla looked at Randy with an inquisitive stare. He decided she was making a request.

"Miss Priscilla Percy," Randy drew on his limited knowledge of formal introductions from movies he had seen, "may I introduce Henri Capoue?" He paused and turned to Henri. "Henri, Miss Priscilla Percy."

They exchanged nods of greeting. Priscilla tilted her head toward the windows. He knew the gesture was important but. the hint escaped Randy. He knew there had to be some etiquette blunder he made. Henri smirked back at Priscilla. They subtly exchanged awareness of his omitted European greeting. Neither of the people he introduced referred to his error, but he suspected. He would have to research this later.