The flood of admissions came quickly once Parsons was informed that Panachuk was not only still alive, but scheduled to be released later that day. Parsons was also angry—but relieved—to learn that Carroll had never been a suspect; despite his other failings, Parsons clearly didn't want anybody else paying for his act of sabotage.
Parsons' tale unfolded along the lines Lee had expected. Although Parsons felt the Sols were dangerous extremists, he was an ardent undisclosed Spacer, and so was also concerned both by the Upsiders' accommodation with their Dirtside masters. So he concocted a scheme designed to correct both problems.
By crafting the fuel tank sabotage to look like a Solist political statement, Parsons was certain that the Earth Union would crack down broadly in response to the sabotage and thereby spawn an Upsider backlash against Dirtside oppression.
However, Parsons had planned to simultaneously rally the Upsiders to mount “vigilance patrols” that would ultimately be credited with successfully suppressing farther “Sol violence” on Callisto. The moderate Greens would no doubt crow over the “elimination of treason on Callisto” and proudly point to the self-policing Upsiders as the means whereby it was eliminated, thereby making them poster children for the argument that, with proper incentives, spaceside communities could be made to aid Earth Union interests.
Of course, that would demonstrate to those same “exemplary” Upsiders that they could wrest concessions from the Dirtsiders if they were organized and proactive. In the long run, Parsons had hoped that the Earth Union would entrust more of the operation of Callisto to Upside hands, and in so doing, make the confidential technologies more accessible to the Spacers who would then carry that information to their independent enclaves in the Belt. There, those technologies would be developed and disseminated to increase the collective power position of the Upsiders in relation to their terrestrial masters.
“But I had nothing to do with the scanner sabotage,” Parsons finished. “Not as though that will help me much now. So let's just get it over with.”
Perlenmann cocked his head. “Get what over with?”
“Don't toy with me, Perlenmann. I know what happens next. I've confessed, you sentence. That's part of your job as administrator.”
Lee released a slow sigh. He was glad his part in this mess was over. Maybe now things would start settling down . . .
Perlenmann's words ruined that nascent hope. “Mr. Parsons, I am willing to suspend your sentence and permanently seal the record of these proceedings—and of Lieutenant Strong's investigation—if you will agree to undertake a special community service project.”
Iseult looked from Perlenmann to Lee. “Can he do that?”
Lee nodded, his mind racing ahead, trying to see where this was all leading. “Yes, he can, Doctor. Even though I was running the investigation, Mr. Perlenmann is this facility's de facto judicial authority.”
Perlenmann nodded to acknowledge the correctness of Lee's comment. “Just so. Mr. Parsons, are you interested in this solution?”
Parsons was still staring at Perlenmann as though the administrator had grown another head. “Uh . . . sure. Yes.”
“Then, Mr. Parsons, here is what you must do. You must convene an open forum comprised not only of Upsiders and Spacers, but Outbounders and Dirtsiders, as well. And your first collective act must be to renounce violence. After that, you are to use the forum to air your concerns to the entire community. This means that the entire community will also hear the often contending concerns and viewpoints of your adversaries. If you achieve no more than that, I will be satisfied. We need to exchange views, not blows, here on Callisto.”
Perlenmann glanced over at Lee, smiling. Lee smiled back and nodded. Yes, it was all becoming clear now. Very clear.
Perlenmann was concluding. “Do you agree to these terms, Mr. Parsons?”
Parsons nodded, dumbfounded. “Y-yes. Sure.”
Lee nodded at Perlenmann. “And it's all by the book, isn't it?”
Perlenmann smiled again. “Yes; quite.” Then he stared at Parsons and proclaimed. “Mr. Parsons, having agreed to fulfill the service required, you are free to go. But fair warning: if you perpetrate, incite, or encourage any farther violence to persons or property on Callisto, I shall reopen the file on this matter, have you incarcerated, and remand you to Earth for appropriate sentencing on the charges of sabotage and treason.”
Parsons stood, looked anxious to be off. Lee smiled. He probably wants to get the hell out of this room before Perlenmann comes to his senses and throws the book at him. Which is what should have happened.
Perlenmann nodded. “You may go.”
Parsons exited, followed closely by Briggs, Xi, and Cabral. The little Brazilian still kept his eyes on Parsons—and one hand on his holstered gun. Iseult, with another raised-eyebrow glance at Lee, followed them out.
As the door closed behind them, Lee shook his head. “Bravo, Mr. Perlenmann. A command performance.”
Perlenmann's smile dimmed somewhat. “I'm afraid I don't understand you, Lieutenant.”
“Mr. Perlenmann, you understand me so well that you have been able to control me like a marionette without my knowing it. Except that you did step over the line of legality one time—and that's what gave you away.”
Perlenmann smiled. “And what is this purported oversight of mine?”
“Oh, it wasn't an oversight; you just didn't have a choice. The scanner, Perlenmann. You sabotaged the scanner.”
The smile widened. “And why would I do such a thing?”
Lee indicated the cluttered table. “Well, partly because of the books—which the current Earth Union censorship prevents from being distributed anymore.”
Perlenmann shrugged. “I fail to see your reasoning. Why scan books that I already have, as do a number of Upside libraries?”
“You're not worried about Upside readers, Mr. Perlenmann. Your concern is with Outbound readers, particularly those in coming generations who would otherwise be deprived of the true depth and breadth of human thought, innovation, and imagination. So, since the Dirtside censors control what goes into the colony ships' data banks, you realized that the only way to work around their restrictions was to create your own, uncensored graphical library.
“But the old secure scanner wasn't the right tool for that job. It was too slow. So you got something that can capture pages in the blink of an eye. And all those images are probably hidden with false file names, or mixed into other data records on the Outbounder colony ships.”
Perlenmann smiled. “Better than that. The library files are hidden among compressed backups of earlier versions of navigational software. The Outbounders will not even be aware of them until several years into their journey. At a preset date, the archives will unfold themselves and alert the crew to their existence.” He leaned back. “So, you have discovered my heinous crime. I am at your mercy.”
“You might not want to make a joke of that just yet, Administrator Perlenmann, because I'm not done. You see, I started thinking about how your sabotaging the secure scanner might answer some of the other mysteries I've been grappling with. Like how it might be related to the hijacking of the Fragrant Blossom.”
Perlenmann raised an eyebrow; his tone was wry. “So those pirates were after my scanner, too? I was not informed that it has such an inexplicably high market value.”
“Actually, it's you who had the inside information on its value, and it was the hijackers who didn't. But let's stop calling them that; they were paid assassins, sent to retrieve something they never found. Because it was hidden in that scanner, right there.” Lee pointed at the unit.
Perlenmann's smile vanished.
Lee tapped the scanner in a slow rhythm. “It's been said that the best place to hide a big crime is deep within a small one. And that's what you did. Sure; you wanted the new scanner. And if you had been caught, you could always have blushed and smiled a little and all would have been well. And no one would have thought to look any closer at the new secure scanner—which was in fact a data mule. Oh, I know you intend to use it to digitize your library, too, but its real purpose was as a means of transmitting illegal, even treasonous, data, stored as coded ‘test images' on the scanner's chip. And unless I'm much mistaken, that's what the assassins on the Blossom were actually after. They were there to intercept that data. That's why they didn't give a damn about hostages, or stealing the ship. It's why they had to stay aboard her, letting her drift, attracting no attention, while they tried to locate the hidden data. It's why they had an armed, high-speed getaway ship waiting at 216 Kleopatra to retrieve the information, debrief the hijackers, and then probably liquidate them.”
“And yes, we found a large store of test images in the scanner. We made a record of them, but they didn't make any sense to us until now. But I suspect that if we had the right cipher, we'd discover why someone was willing to send assassins to retrieve that information—and why, as its recipient, you're willing to live a double-life that smacks of treasonous intent.”
“I'm curious, Lieutenant. What led you to conjecture that I was the recipient for such secret data?”
Lee shrugged. “Part of my research involved going over your confidential logs, which include the base's comm records. I went back and checked the transmissions to and from the Fragrant Blossom during its prior arrivals. There was almost no communication between you. But this time, from the moment the Fragrant Blossom left her orbital berth at Mars, you were in constant contact with her.” Lee smiled. “Obviously, you and her captain had a lot to talk about. And that was a lucky coincidence for you, because if you hadn't set up a regular call-in schedule with the Blossom's CO, you'd have never learned about the hijacking in time to alert us.”
“Oh, luck had nothing to do with our frequent communications, Lieutenant Strong. That was our attempt to discourage the assassins we already feared might be on board the Blossom.”
Lee stared. “What do you mean?”
“Lieutenant Strong, although the Blossom's captain did not have any definitive proof, he had considerable reservations regarding several late-booking passengers, as well as one or two replacement crewmembers. He communicated these reservations to me and so we made a very public point of establishing a relatively frequent check-in schedule, which included information that we hoped would deter any potential mutineers. For instance, I mentioned several times that your cutter was within the area, as well as your sister-ship, the Revered Timberland. Clearly, we underestimated the determination of our opponents.”
Lee heard the self-recriminatory tone. “Don't blame yourself, Mr. Perlenmann. These assassins weren't going to let anything interfere with their plans.”
Perlenmann nodded, stared at Lee. “I'm not sure you know the full truth of your own words, Lieutenant Strong. Only two days prior to their attack, the Revered Timberland—or Ravenous Tiburon, in your parlance—was called away to provide emergency medical aid to a small, temporary mining outpost deeper in the asteroid belt.”
“So what? We get those calls all the time.”
“I'm sure you do—but not about outposts that don't exist. But this hoax had a most impressive pedigree. The message had a valid Customs Patrol authorization code affixed to it. And when the Tiburon departed, it also ensured that yours was the only ship left in the area.”
Lee felt cold streak down his spine. “What are you implying?”
Perlenmann held out his hands. “I should think it is obvious. The closest of the two ships that could have come to the aid of Flagrant Blossom was officially ordered to a distant location only two days before the hijackers acted. So who was left alone in the approximate vicinity of the attack site? Why, a junior commander. A commander with no prior combat experience. A commander from a family with questionable political affiliations. A commander who, by all reports, was getting along entirely too well with the crew of the Venerated Gaia, a.k.a. Venereal Gato.” Perlenmann, looked at Lee over steepled fingers. “You know, don't you, that positive reviews and reactions from your Upsider crew is actually a matter of grave concern to your superiors?”
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.
Claims by the ruling political parties that the onslaught of ruin were the result of some sort of bizarre plot, delberately inflicted by “terrorists,” were greeted intitially with incredulity and then with rage as the political leadership's obvious effort to scapegoat someone else—anyone else—for its own failures sank home. Mobs took to the street, initially inchoate and fueled solely by rage and desperation, but leaders soon emerged. Within weeks, the first of the Committees of Renaissance was organized in North America; within months, the ruling Greens and Neo Luddites of the GRASP coalition found themselves fighting for their lives. The ruling elites' longstanding plans to retreat to Old Earth's orbital habitats in the face of disaster failed; officers of the Customs Service ordered to support Earth Union police forces against the Committees' armed supporters either refused or were forcibly prevented from obeying by their crews; the Upsider community, from Mars to Callisto, declared its support for the insurrection; and after three weeks of bitter fighting on Luna, the Lunar habitats also joined the united opposition.
By January 253 PD, the Earth Union had effectively disintegrated. The old national units which had never been officially superseded asserted their sovereignty and independence once again, and the surviving leadership of the discredited Green and Neo Luddite parties had been driven entirely from power. The rage directed at them, sparked by the economic collapse, had grown nothing but fiercer and more burning as the citizens of Earth recognized the systemic stagnation and paralysis which had been ideolgically imposed upon them, and many of those political leaders were forced deep into hiding or even—in one of history's most bitter ironies—into seeking safety in interstellar flight once those flights were resumed in 257 PD.
The Economic Winter imposed untold suffering. It has been estimated that well over a century of accumulated wealth was destroyed in a period of less than two weeks. The actual death toll has never been fully assessed, but must have measured in the hundreds of thousands on a planet-wide basis. The individual citizens whose life savings were wiped away are literally beyond counting. And yet, despite the staggering blow the Sol System had taken, the tide of human capability and creativity rebounded dramatically in the period of restored individual liberties and representative government which blossomed in the wake of the Earth Union's destruction. By 261 PD, the system had almost completely recovered from the Economic Winter and charged ahead into two T-centuries of unparalleled economic, technological, and intellectual growth and expansion. Nor did the renaissance of humanity's home star system stop there. The nightmare of Old Earth's Final War still waited in the mists of the unseen future, but for the next six T-centuries, until the slide into the political and ideological madness of that cataclysm began with the Veronezh declaration of 850 PD, the light of human hope, dreams, and aspirations burned as strongly as that of Sol itself.