Rhapsody For The Tempest: The Braintrust Book 3

By Marc Stiegler

She’s Invading the Cradle of Civilization

Thousands of years ago, the northern plateau of China gave rise to the first great civilization.

Now Jam, an ex-commando from the BrainTrust, is searching the plateau for the untapped geniuses needed to power the BrainTrust’s expansion. She leads a two-woman invasion that could roil the power structure in China to its core.

As Jam rides roughshod over tyranny, bureaucracy and ignorance, as she accumulates ever more enemies, she wanders ever nearer to an ancient secret—

The secret that powered the first Cradle of Civilization so long ago.

Even with all the help she can get from her best friends Dash and Ping, will it be enough to bring the secret home where it belongs?

Is Dash’s brilliance truly nonhuman?

And above all, will Ping ever get to use her Big Gun?

• Language: English
• Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
• Release date: Aug 21, 2018
• ISBN: 9781642020601

Book preview

Plateau.

1

When Last Seen Our Heroines Were…

True and unpopular ideas are what drive the world forward.

—Sam Altman

---

Dash knocked politely on the open door of Chance’s office. She had been there only a few times before. Normally the two of them spread their data out on a table in a conference room or huddled over a bank of computer screens in the lab compartment where they programmed the CRISPIER.

Before, the collage of pictures on the walls relentlessly displaying tattooed body parts had made Dash uncomfortable enough to keep her from seeing much. Today, because of Dash’s increased awareness of hand-to-hand combat after the battle on Dmitri’s yacht, one photo leapt out at her.

Two women faced off in a mixed martial arts ring. The woman delivering a ferocious kick to her opponent's head had her back to the photographer. Looking at the tattoos on the woman's arms and legs, however, Dash could now see clearly that the woman was Chance. The evidence of Chance's fighting skills, so surprising yet critical during the Russian Union Premier’s attempt to kidnap her, had always been there for the seeing.

Chance waved her to a chair. If our therapy continues to produce results like this it could get boring around here. Their latest batch of patients were all experiencing some level of successful rejuvenation.

Dash shook her head. It cannot remain boring for long. We still have to figure out how to correct the therapy so it works for everyone. She pursed her lips. I have been doing some preparatory work towards this, and I believe it is just about time to go back to it.

A look of horror crossed Chance's face and she shuddered. Yeah, this has been nice, but we've been kind of avoiding the real work.

Indeed. This has been a nice break, but it is time for us to return to battle. Dash pulled forth her tablet. I have some ideas for some treatments we might be able to combine with basic telomere reconstruction. Some of these might reduce the risk while the telomere reconstruction was underway, while others may be able to increase the number of years a rejuvenation regains. Dash looked at the expression of dismay on Chance's face. She had clasped her hands together so tightly that Dash feared the nails would dig into the backs of her hands and draw blood.

Chance had clearly not quite steeled herself for the next round of experiments and the patient deaths that would consequently follow. Dash decided to give her a little time to prepare. But we can do this tomorrow. Perhaps, for now, we should select another batch of easy patients.

Chance relaxed and drew out her own tablet. With a flick of her wrist, she passed a list of ten candidates over to Dash's tablet for consideration.

Dash perused the list. I take it you ran these names past Dark Alpha 42?

Chance shook her head. Didn't need to. I picked them myself.

Dash laughed in surprise. So you can follow Dark Alpha’s algorithm now as well? Dash had just recently trained herself to follow the algorithm, even though she still didn’t understand it in any way she could express.

Chance shrugged. Pretty much. A twinkle appeared in her eye. "You know, I tried feeding all the data from Dark Alpha into several of the AI systems that can explain their results."

Dash nodded. As did I. I am pleased you did as well. It had been a test, sort of. Dash had wanted to see if Chance would take the initiative to find a better alternative for such an important problem. Did you find anything?

Chance sighed. I found a couple that did better than you had done for your first set of test subjects, but none of them worked as well as Dark Alpha 42. She took another deep breath. So I figured it would be best if I learned how to do it myself. The twinkle returned to her eye. Now I'm just like you.

So tell me. Explain the algorithm that discriminates between those who will receive rejuvenation and those who will die.

Chance snorted. I can't explain it any better than you can. Apparently, I am now as nonhuman as you are.

Aha. It is not really nonhuman, you know. There is a name for people like us who know the answer but can't explain it.

Chance raised her eyebrow.

We are called ‘experts.’

Chance frowned. Still, I think we'd be better experts if we could explain what our expertise tells us.

Dash shook her head. No, Chance. There is another word in English for people who are not only expert but who can also explain what they know. Their title is more prestigious, but oddly, they often receive less respect.

Chance considered this for a moment, then gave up. Okay, tell me. What is an expert who can explain himself called?

Dash smiled. A faraway look entered her eyes. Such a person is called a teacher.

Red Princeling Guang Jian knew everyone in the whole Fuxing/Prometheus merged archipelago watched him like hawks circling a squirrel. The way they all looked at him with so much distrust and loathing was comical. As if he could possibly care what these foolish Westerners thought.

Or foolish Politburo geeks for that matter. What had he ever done to Chen Ying to gain such obvious disrespect? Guang couldn’t do much about the Westerners, but he knew that some time along the way he would have to teach Chen Ying some manners. Sure, Chen Ying was a son of the Politburo, but even Politburo members needed to show respect for the Standing Committee.

Right now, however, Guang was focused on getting more than just respect from Xiu Bao. He’d had his eye on the girl ever since coming aboard. At least she did not look at him with loathing. Actually, she didn’t look at him at all, casting her eyes down any time he entered a room to find her. Generally, she then exited the room before he could even catch up to her to say something. But despite her avoidance and her shyness, he was confident she knew how to do her duty for a future member of the Standing Committee.

Which was what had brought him here to slouch against a passageway wall adorned with the images of tall skinny trees on the Sea of Bamboo Park deck on the Taixue. He had to admit the rendition of the park was not bad. He had been to the actual park, an hour or so outside Shanghai, several times. He’d even been on the cable car to the top of the mountain. He could see the rendering far down the passage, and it was an excellent reproduction of the real thing. People said the walk to the top of the mountain was delightful. Maybe so, but such journeys required far too much exertion for his taste.

The soft sound of footsteps on the passageway’s deck caused him to look up. Sure enough, there was Xiu Bao shuffling with surprising speed toward her cabin, unaware of him lurking in the side passage. Guang licked his lips. Yes, he needed far more than just respect after such a long dry spell.

As Xiu Bao stepped into her cabin, Guang rushed across the passage and pushed the door back with one hand while pushing Xiu with the other. Another quick flick of the wrist and he drove the door shut behind him. She started to scream; he smacked her, mostly for the sheer pleasure of lashing out. No one yet lived in the adjacent cabins and there were no passersby, so he had not the least worry that someone might hear her. He let her scream again and smacked her once more.

Guang was correct that no humans had heard her scream, but they were not the only listeners aboard the ship. Had he, upon arrival aboard the Taixue, bothered to investigate the introductory module about isle ship features, he would have learned that the default settings for the vidcams in private cabins allowed the ship’s AI to watch but not record. The AI looked only for indications of a terrible mishap—slipping in the shower and knocking yourself out, for example.

Guang’s inattention to such detail was not matched by the AI. Xiu Bao had not modified the default settings, and the ship’s AI heard her scream. It witnessed Guang’s assault and followed its algorithms.

Ping spent much of her time on the Taixue for the simple reason that it was the only ship in the current merger of archipelagos that had a reasonable number of people on board. Well, the Archimedes, the manufacturing ship of her Prometheus fleet, had a fair number of people, all laboring furiously to complete the Zhaozhou manufacturing ship for the Fuxing fleet.

But the slow trickle of BrainTrust candidates and new members funneled onto the Taixue. Aside from the Archimedes, the rest of the ships had only skeleton crews aboard.

So Ping spent several hours every day training with her peacekeeping team on the empty Mount Parnassus, but then came over to the Taixue for lunch. This gave her the chance to hang out with Ciara, who was in turn hanging out with her mother Lenora as they worked with the new arrivals. There were certainly a satisfying number of amusing moments working with Ciara, but Ping was glad the Zhaozhou was ahead of schedule and the Prometheus fleet could soon depart for its new horizons.

Of course, Ping still had one piece of unfinished business she hoped to accomplish before they departed. When Jam had left for the Chinese mainland she had made Ping promise to watch for trouble among the newcomers, most notably from one particular Red Princeling. As if any promise were needed on that point!

So Ping was licking the remnants of lemon raspberry gelato from her ice cream cone when her earbud, along with the earbuds of all the other peacekeepers on the ship, sounded the alarm.

At last, some action! And very close at hand. Xiu Bao’s cabin was one deck away, an easy run up the ramp. Not entirely by coincidence, of course. Ping, along with half the other peacekeepers, had been watching Guang play cat and mouse with the humble peasant girl for weeks. Ping’s unfinished business looked to have come to fruition at last.

She flew up the ramp and flung herself headlong at Xiu’s cabin door, which yielded to her security badge with a brief click. Once inside, Ping forced herself to take a moment to orient and ascertain what was happening.

Xiu lay dazed on her bunk, her eyes unable to focus although she turned her head in Ping’s direction. She whispered something unintelligible. Guang had his pants unbuckled as he knelt between her legs. Seeing Ping, he stood up and turned to confront her.

Enough orientation. Ping charged at Guang screaming, a very different style of scream from what Xiu Bao had uttered earlier. Ping brought her knee up, targeting his tenderest parts, but too much adrenaline caused her to jump with excessive energy as Guang instinctively bent over to protect himself. He crouched too low; she kicked too high; Ping’s knee cracked into the bottom of his rib cage.

As Guang’s face twisted with pain, Ping slammed him against a bare wall. Xiu had arrived with pretty much nothing except the clothes on her back, and the room made Ping think of what Jam’s room would have looked like when she had first arrived on the BrainTrust, with not a single ornament or weapon display in her possession, had she not had Ping to decorate the place.

After Guang thudded against the wall, Ping swung to break his nose—but Guang swiveled, and once again her timing was off. She struck him in the eye, bouncing his head off the wall. Ow, she said, her knuckles having taken considerable damage from Guang’s cheekbone.

Guang seemed to look at her with amazement, but it was merely a vacant stare that happened to face in her direction. Guang, quite unconscious, slid to the floor.

Damnation, Ping muttered with a frown. Although her hands were positioned to deliver a series of exquisite blows, she paused to watch him fall. With a sigh, she let her arms fall to her sides.

Security Chief Hart had arrived moments behind her. What’s wrong? he asked in puzzlement. You took him out with one blow. Pretty good, in my estimation.

Exactly the problem, Chief, Ping continued mournfully. It should have lasted longer. My focus failed, and with it my discipline. She looked up at the chief with concern. Could I be losing my touch?

Hart patted her on the shoulder. Don’t worry about it. We can spar tomorrow. Work out your frustrations on me. He smiled kindly. While I’m wearing a thickly padded vest, of course.

Lenora, Hart, and Ping stood around Xiu Bao’s hospital bed. Lenora held Xiu’s hand. Both Ping and Hart unconsciously clenched and unclenched their fists.

Lenora spoke softly. I am so sorry, Xiu. I was warned not to matriculate Guang in the first place, but I didn’t listen.

Xiu smiled, a lopsided horror because the swollen half of her face stayed frozen. The doctor tells me I’ll be fine. I understand how hard it is to say no to our princelings.

Hart spoke. We’ll set up a mediation right away. He’ll pay you compensation till his ears bleed SmartCoins. His father will be furious with him.

Xiu jerked halfway out of her bed at this, but Ping was already raising her fist in the air. Yes! We’ll get Joshua to mediate by teleconference. He loves these kinds of cases. Her enthusiasm softened as she felt obligated to offer something closer to the truth. Sort of.

Xiu’s eyes glistened with tears. Oh, no, please. You cannot do that.

Lenora squeezed her hand. Xiu, our mediation system is not corrupt. You’ll get a fair judgment.

Xiu shook her head. It’s not that. If you punish him, he’ll take it out on my parents. He’ll have them sent to a re-education camp. Her eyes bulged. Or have them tried for treason.

Lenora recovered first. I’ll call them and bring them here to the Fuxing. Heaven knows, we have plenty of room.

Thank you, but I don’t think you’ll be able to persuade them over the phone. They love their land and their friends and their lives. Xiu winced. I’ll have to go get them.

Lenora shook her head. You aren’t going anywhere, young lady.

Ping offered the obvious solution. Jam’s already dirtside. She can be pretty persuasive.

Hart smiled. That should work.

Lenora nodded. In the meantime, I’ll figure out how to break the news to Guang that he’s done here. She smiled coldly. I have an idea who might be pretty persuasive with him as well.

Jam looked out the window of the Range Rover at the Cradle of Chinese Civilization. Demonstrating once again her relentless strength of character, Jam neither curled her lip in disgust nor wept in despair. Her mission, to find the best and the brightest of Chinese peasants and bring them to the BrainTrust, had brought her here precisely because it was such an impoverished place. And yet, the area never should have been reduced to this.

Here in northern China, millennia earlier, the Qin dynasty had arisen. Qin Shi Huang had introduced a uniform currency, which had driven an immense surge in trade and wealth throughout the region. He had standardized the written language, allowing easy communication among all members of the empire. And he had gone so far as to allow peasants to own land, a radical innovation at the time.

It did not last. Dynasties rose and fell, while the lands that had cradled civilization fell and fell. And fell.

The nutritious topsoil so necessary for agriculture was, throughout the area, so loose that the plateau had eventually been named for it—the Loess Plateau. Any serious rain washed the topsoil away, down into the basins of the North China plain, where farmers farther to the east used the bounty to grow lush crops. Efforts had been made before and after the beginning of the twenty-first century to implement conservation policies to keep this land and its inhabitants productive.

But a perfect storm of woes had descended upon the land. Desertification swept in from the west. The conservation efforts provided mixed results. And worst of all, the farmers of the North China plain started to notice that the annual delivery of topsoil gifted to them from the plateau was decreasing. Being both richer and far better politically connected, the farmers of the North China plain had urged the government to constrain the conservation efforts on the plateau.

In Beijing political expediency intertwined with climatological reality in wondrous accord. Political support, educational efforts, and money for saving the plateau vanished along with the rain. Poverty and despair swept the land in tandem with the dust from relentless windstorms.

Looking on the bright