Beginnings Page 11

  Lee swallowed. He hadn't known that, but given everything he'd learned in the past weeks, it made sense. From the Earth Union perspective, if an Upsider crew adopted and confided in a Dirtsider officer, that could evolve into a Very Risky Situation indeed. “I find your conjectures . . . disturbing,” Lee admitted, his mouth suddenly very dry.

  Perlenmann nodded. “I thought you might.”

  Lee had recovered a bit. “Logically, then, whoever drew off the Tiburon has agents inside the Customs Patrol. And, being behind the hijacking, they almost certainly advised the assassins and their recovery ship on our position and isolation. Which is why the assassins didn't bother to change their game plan. They figured we'd be too far off to detect anything amiss, or stumble across them—as long as the crew of the Blossom didn't get off a cry for help, and they continued to drift along quietly. And that's also why the assassins were ready for every conventional boarding method we might have tried. Someone told them exactly what to prepare for.”

  Lee regarded Perlenmann closely. “But we'd have never been there at all—never learned about the Fragrant Blossom's troubles— if it hadn't been for you. None of the people plotting to seize the Blossom could anticipate that you would contact me directly, that you were keeping close tabs on the situation—and my position.” Lee shook his head. “I should have known something wasn't kosher when your message about the Blossom came directly to our own lascom. You would only have had such precise coordinates on us if you'd already been tracking and taking regular fixes on our position. Just like the bad guys were.”

  Perlenmann nodded. “And you see the implications that logically follow from your conjectures, of course.”

  “You mean that you're part of some larger clandestine organization? Sure, but what organization? And which side is it working for?”

  “The organization I work with does not support any one faction. Our concern is for the welfare of this whole solar system. And for the whole system to be healthy, all parts of it must enjoy equal freedoms. And the most fundamental of all those freedoms is this: that persons must be free to read, write, say, and think what they will. Without that, all other freedoms are not merely meaningless, they are shams.”

  Lee smiled crookedly. “Now you're starting to sound like my parents.”

  Perlenmann returned the smile. “That was not my intention, but it does not surprise me.”

  Lee leaned back, realizing that, for the first time since puberty, he was completely uncertain as to the outcome of his present conversation, or where it might take him. “So, what's in the scanner: your secret plans, or your enemies'?”

  Perlenmann sighed. “Unfortunately, both—but that was not our intent. Our own plans were the last covert package to be carried by the Blossom, and would have attracted no attention. But events dictated that another data package—plans for a top secret operation being prepared by the Greens—had to be shipped out here along with it.”

  “Okay, so let's go through this one step at a time. What is this about a secret Green operation?”

  Perlenmann sighed. “The Greens have devised a clandestine plot to simultaneously wipe away the increases in Upside self-sufficiency while simultaneously eliminating the recent political gains of the Neo Luddites. It's quite an ingenious scheme actually, dubbed ‘Case Red.'”

  “And how did it come to be on the Blossom?”

  Perlenmann shrugged. “Apparently, one of our agents got unexpected access to the plans—probably as a target of opportunity—and had to get them beyond the clutches of the Green security apparatus.”

  “Don't you mean the Earth Union security apparatus?”

  Perlenmann shook his head. “No. The Greens couldn't afford to use Earth Union forces to reclaim the file. If they did, the contents would be examined—which would reveal their attempt to undermine their supposed political allies, the Neo Luddites.”

  “So the Greens have their own secret security apparatus. And that's probably who was behind the hijacking, the raider ship, and the radio call that pulled away the Ravenous Tiburon.”

  “Unquestionably. All done to keep their perfidy concealed from both the Upsiders and the Neo Luddites. So, when Case Red fell into the hands of our operatives, I suspect their only choice was to get it off world as quickly, and as far, as possible.”

  “So they gave it to the captain of the Blossom.”

  “Yes, who the Greens apparently knew was part of our organization. What they didn't realize was that his only role in the organization was as a courier, bringing a series of secret documents out to me on Callisto. And so, without any intention of doing so, we suddenly had all our most crucially secret eggs in one fragile basket: the Blossom.”

  Lee nodded. “And although the Greens tracked Case Red to the Blossom, they couldn't take open action before she departed. Everything in port is under official scrutiny at all times.”

  “Exactly. So the Greens deposited a mix of operatives and amnesty-bribed thugs on board the Blossom instead. The operatives went as replacement crew, the thugs masqueraded as legitimate passengers. The captain suspected as much, of course, but could do nothing. The infiltrators had impeccable false identities and credentials, supplied by Greens who control the necessary personal record databases.”

  Lee saw how these circumstances had led to what he had discovered on the Blossom. “So the infiltrators waited until the liner was in deep space, took her, interrogated both the crew and passengers in an attempt to locate the Case Red file, and failing that, eliminated them and continued the search on their own. And it's entirely possible that Coordinator Mann deflected us from investigating more deeply because he is an agent for the Green conspirators. In fact, he might be the one who set the hijacking to begin with.”

  “There is no way to be certain, but he had the opportunity and authority to do so.”

  Lee stared around at the books. “Now, about your own secret file—the one the scanner was carrying as test images: what the hell is it?”

  Perlenmann folded his hands. “The images are graphical copies of a computer code—a code too important and sensitive to be transmitted as code. So we have been shuttling it out here to Callisto, piece by piece.”

  “And what makes this code so important?”

  “Do you know what a backdoor is, Lieutenant?”

  “Sure. It's code put into a program—usually an operating system—so that the code writer can access and control the system later on without having to log on or go through any other security protocols.”

  “Precisely. Well, we have been recompiling the code of a long-unused backdoor for almost five years.”

  “What is it a backdoor to?”

  “The market and financial management software used by the Earth Union.”

  Lee stared. “How did your agents get access to that kind of code? That should be completely inaccessible.”

  “It is. Even to the Greens themselves.”

  “Mr. Perlenmann, you're going to have to stop talking in riddles, please.”

  “Actually, I'm stating the simple truth. The Greens are no longer aware that this backdoor exists. You see, several decades before the economic collapse of the twenty-first century, the programmers who wrote the financial tracking and exchange software used by the major markets of the world realized that there could come a day when world leaders might need to intervene to forestall an imminent fiscal crash. So they put a backdoor in all their programs.”

  “And the security subroutines of those programs never tweaked to it?”

  Perlenmann smiled. “That would have been a most difficult task, since the backdoor was nested inside the security subroutines themselves.”

  “Oh,” said Lee, who did not feel particularly intelligent at that moment.

  “When the markets did collapse a generation later, the backdoor codes were mostly forgotten by the new market managers, and what remained was lost in the chaos.

  “That would have been the end of the story if there had not been a collection of nations—mostly in Europe—which, by nationalizing their debts and shifting to an emergency command economy, remained stable enough to continue trading amongst themselves. In time, the global markets—now under Green control—reasserted.

  “However, in the technophobic culturescape arising from the collapse, there was no interest in creating new programs to integrate and manage dataflow between the world's markets. So they simply retained the old software and rebuilt the old machines which ran it.”

  Lee goggled. “And they're still using that system today? Almost two hundred years later?”

  Perlenmann shrugged. “Why not? It works, and to replace it would mean a significant investment, appropriated over the objections of the Neo Luddites, many of whom detest the entire notion of money, anyway. The software has evolved, of course, but its core program is still the same. And the backdoor is still there.”

  “And your organization found the code for it? How?”

  Perlenmann's smile was sly; Lee pictured him suggesting to Eve that she might enjoy just one tiny bite of that shiny, ripe apple. “It was never entirely lost, although its full potential was not understood. The access code itself was split up shortly after the Greens began their initial rise to power. For generations there was no opportunity, and no pressing reason, to reassemble or use it. Until the recent retrenchments, it was conceivable that, over time, the Greens would relent and humanity would reattain a reasonable balance between eco-consciousness and technological advancement, despite the resistance of the Neo Luddites.

  “But then we started getting fragmentary reports of a clandestine Green operation dubbed ‘Case Red.' Named for how it will begin—the inciting and then crushing of a ‘popular revolt' on Mars—the plan is designed to strip away every bit of autonomy the Upside communities have managed to accrue and set them back about a century. It is also structured so that it will appear to be a purely Neo Luddite plot.”

  “So you began reassembling the pieces of the backdoor code in order to cripple the fiscal structures of the Earth Union before they could make the Upsiders their serfs once again.”

  “Well, yes. But we are not doing this just to save the Upsiders. We are trying to save Earth, as well.”

  “How does destroying Earth's markets save it?”

  Perlenmann feigned surprise. “I thought you were a student of history, Lieutenant Strong.”

  “I am. And what you're doing will have an effect as profound as the Great Depression of the twentieth century, or even the currency collapse of the late twenty-first century, which is what brought the Greens to power in the first place.”

  “Just so. But tell me, weren't there even worse social cataclysms in history?”

  Lee shrugged. “Of course there were. The collapse of the Roman Empire led to the Dark Ages. Centuries of misery, decline, and belief that humanity was now debased, fated to live in the shadows of a greatness that could not be regained.”

  “Just so. Now, what made the Roman fall so much greater than the economic collapses of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries?”

  Lee started. “Well, you can't really compare them at all. A market collapse is the failure of just one element in a larger, integrated system.” And then Lee saw what Perlenmann was driving at. “They didn't cause a complete social implosion because, however bad they looked at the time, they weren't complete system failures. They were corrections of a flawed element within the system.”

  “Exactly. Of course, it doesn't feel like a mere ‘correction' to the people living through those events. But we can be sure of this: they were far less terrible than being alive in the Europe of 500 AD, enduring a squalid, wretched existence among ruins, lost in a deep night of decline and despair.”

  Lee nodded. “Which, if the Greens and the Neo Luddites succeed with Case Red, is exactly where Earth is headed. By smashing the Upsiders, they're smashing the few injections of innovation and growth that stave off complete cultural and economic stagnation, and ultimately, implosion.”

  Perlenmann nodded and folded his hands. “Lieutenant Strong, let us even presume that the Greens fail to execute Case Red. If the Earth Union continues on its current course for another century, what is likely to become of it?”

  Lee's throat became uncomfortably dry and tight. “The same thing: stagnation and implosion. The Great Depression, the Dark Ages, and the Fall of Rome, all rolled into one social cataclysm. Anarchy. Savagery. Barbarism.”

  “Horribly so. An unavoidable and unpreventable certainty. As in Rome, the system has accrued so much power and inertia that, if left to its own devices, it will not merely stumble to a halt: it would crash into a thousand, irreclaimable pieces.”

  Lee looked up sharply. “So are you trying to sell me the idea that your backdoor sabotage is actually some kind of perverse mission of mercy?”

  “Admittedly, it does seem perverse. A market collapse now will kill thousands and generate much misery. However, left to fester for another fifty to a hundred years, it will become a great fall that will kill billions and generate unparalleled suffering and barbarism. Or are you beginning to doubt your own conclusions, Lieutenant Strong?”

  Lee shook his head, considered. “And now I understand why you've been recompiling the code out here. Because Callisto is Ultima Thule, the far Marches of the Empire. It's a place where ships come only four times a year, where Earth Union oversight is almost nonexistent, and where the presence of the Customs Patrol is so rare that our visits are memorable events. So where better to put such a code back together, and who better than the local eye and arm of Earth Union authority, the facility administrator?”

  Perlenmann nodded, watched Lee, said nothing, seemed to be waiting.

  Lee nodded back, understanding. “And now that the backdoor code is fully compiled, you want me to carry it back in-system for you, where others of your organization can spread it for maximum effect before you activate it.”

  Perlenmann shrugged. “I cannot compel you to carry it in-system. But I would not use coercive means even if they were at my disposal. To do so would make me the very thing I strive to defeat.”

  “And if I refuse to work as your courier?

  “Perhaps another means of conveying the code to where it is needed will present itself. Perhaps not. However, I must be frank: we are now in a desperate race against disaster.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that the Greens must presume that Case Red has been compromised. They will almost certainly move up the timetable for its implementation. What they had thought to initiate in five or six years might well be accelerated to two or three years—maybe less.”

  “And you'll do nothing?”

  “The only thing we can do is spread and activate the backdoor code as quickly as possible. Which means, Lieutenant, that you have a decision to make, and very soon.”

  Lee considered. If he became a courier for either the backdoor code or Case Red, he was committing treason. If he simply boarded the Gato and did nothing, he was still aiding and abetting treason. Either way, he was breaking his oath of service unless he arrested Perlenmann immediately.

  Of course, the Earth Union had broken its vows in so many ways, so profoundly, and with such callous disregard for the people it was supposed to protect and serve, that his oath of service to it had begun to feel like a contract made with a con man. But still, if he was going to break with the Earth Union and his oath, shouldn't he take the moral high ground and do it openly—?

  “Lieutenant, I have spent many years observing expressions on the faces of other people. If I were to guess, I would say you are in the throes of a conflict of conscience. Perhaps I can clarify things for you. If you openly repudiate your oath of service, you will undo all we have worked for. Such a statement will attract the very attention we must avoid. I am sorry to say that I require not only your services as a courier, but your silence—at least until you have delivered the data.”

  Lee considered. Well, yes; that certainly did make it simpler—in a way. If he was going to break an oath, he would have to go all the way and become a coconspirator. Not merely an open enemy of the state, but a covert traitor, a spy. He almost wished he had not decided to come out and see what real life was like, out among the Upsiders.

  Perlenmann's smile was sad. “Lieutenant, I believe there is not much middle ground in the choices before you. You know what I am guilty of. You must either uphold your oath and arrest me, or not.”

  Lee leaned back, let his eyes wander across the books, across Perlenmann's face—creased with a slight suggestion of anxiety—and finally let his gaze rest upon the scanner. “All this scanning—even with a new machine—must still take forever.”

  Perlenmann shrugged; “It's not too bad, but it is rather tedious; scan, turn a page, scan, turn another page—”

  Lee nodded, rose, picked up a book. Hesse's Magister Ludi. “Given all the work ahead of you, it sounds like you could use another pair of hands.”

  “Yes, I can use another pair of hands, Lieutenant. In more ways than one.” Perlenmann handed Lee a thinner volume: Sun Tzu's The Art of War. “In more ways than one.”

  * * *

  The sudden, virtually overnight breakdown of the entire financial network of Old Earth on July 26, 252 PD (2354 Old Style), inflicted catastrophic damage on Old Earth's markets and national economies. The “Economic Winter,” as it came to be known, effectively wiped out over a third of all major corporations within the first thirty-six hours. Efforts to control or even slow the rolling collapse of the planetary economy proved fruitless, and by August 1, well over half of the world's transnational corporations had been driven into failure. Old Earth had never seen such a tidal wave of bank and corporate bankruptcies, and every effort to restart the economy or somehow impose financial order failed in the face of massive collapses within the world trading networks as the software which had provided the sinews of the financial system crumbled, apparently overwhelmed by the sheer cataract of disaster.