The incident in the practice hall had taken him hours to sort out. He wanted, badly, to come down on the two plebes, but the boy had been Marked for a martyr, and he didn't have any others if he got rid of this one. He wanted to sweep the thing quietly away, but that blasted Ventur... a plebe who didn't know his place if ever he'd seen one... had made it clear he intended to make serious noise, and that he had copies of the recording.
In the end, he could only vent his anger on the boys who did the assault, and the one who planned it. That had been the one good part about all of this. The one responsible, the one behind it all, came from one of the Commandant’s families, and had been in the Academy under Sar's instance.
He had not even bothered to bring him in to his office, just quietly escorted off the campus, directly, with his personal affects to follow him later. Word of this had spread like wildfire through the Family boys at the Academy, of course. He'd let them stew for a couple of hours before handing the edict down for them to spread through their ranks. The Santiner boy, and the girl, were to be left alone. Any further moves against them, so much as a nasty note or an insult whispered behind their backs, and the offender would be explaining his, or her, inability to follow simple directions to himself, Sar Cohen, and whoever held the power in the offender's family.
It made him angry to send that sort of heavy-handed message down, particularly since he knew that, at some point, he'd be pushed and have to enforce it, but he'd been left with no choice. He'd told the boys to let it lie, told them to keep the harassment within bounds, and flatly told them that they would not be getting rid of this particular plebe. Now they all, including he himself, had to deal with a few hot heads getting out of hand.
He sighed, and reviewed a few seconds of the video again. He froze the video a moment to study the look on the girl's face after someone got a kick off to Santiner's head. At least something had come of all of this.
He made a note to talk make sure that the two of them spent plenty of time together. Children of martyrs could be so incredibly useful. He allowed himself to smile a moment before he blanked his features and hit the call button.
***
The War Room screen-walls were a dull grey, as they always were for these meetings. Lucas sat at the head of the table reading reports as everyone quietly shuffled in. Sharon took the seat next to him, and Gencher (as had become his tradition), took the seat opposite her. There was little of the usual pre-meeting conversation as everyone filed in, heads down. They knew what he wanted, that the principle subject this time would be the same subject as the last several meetings, and –judging by their postures- they had very little for him in regards to food.
The attitude of the senior staff had changed slowly over the last few months as no answer to the food problem presented itself. That effect was magnified now that the news of the fire in the Mezor Sanctuary’s greenhouse tower had driven the point home. One accident and they lost six month's worth of breathing room. He wrote a quick note to Sharon, titled “Council Moral”, then motioned for her to log into her console at the table. She scanned the note quickly, glanced at him and motioned acknowledgement. A tilt of the head and lift of the hand suggested she couldn’t do anything at the moment, but would figure something out.
He did a quick head count, and found that only his spy masters had failed to arrive on time. Unusual for either of them, they had better have a good reason. He decided to make use of the time, and pushed the report from the Kendal province to the front of every terminal at the table. The Mob war had heated up, and the Fendal seemed determined to either drag the Column into it, or reduce their presence in the province. The long and short of it was that they had lost a major source of food from Outside for the foreseeable future, and possibly for good.
He watched as everyone read the reports. Grim faces grew darker, frowns deepened, hopelessness began to show on many faces. Even Gencher, stalwart stoic Gencher, showed the strain. Sharon got that look, the one that said she intended to get everyone focused, but he didn't need that now.
He tapped the table to get everyone's attention, then spoke softly, "You can all read the reports as well as I can. We are out of time. Rationing begins tonight, with the basic plan we worked out: calories per person, starting with the next meal served. Gensa, get the word out to all of the cooks and kitchens. Allotted calories per meal, no exceptions. Sharon, get in front of this as quickly as you can, but make no false promises. It is going to be some time before we can fix this. If it will help, the ration restrictions apply to everyone, even the winged, even the command staff, and I mean that. If I find anyone abusing their position to gain extra calories I will..."
He inhaled, and looked down at his hands. He wanted solidarity, not to beat on his best people, "Just don't do it. Please, don't. That is an order, a request, and a plea from a friend. We have to be in this together. The basic rationing will be hard, but it will get worse and tighter. We have to own up to that."
No one wished to speak, and the silence held for a while. Finally, Gencher looked up, some hesitation in his gaze. He'd never seen the man make a tentative move, ever. It did not suit him, "No one else wants to say this. Honestly, Sir, for once, I don't either, but it has to be said. We need to close the doors, stop taking new people in. You know..."
He trailed off, and Lucas lifted a hand to acknowledge the statement. He stared at the table, then read through some of the reports again. Had it really come to that? Silence descended on the room. Occasionally a foot shuffled or a cough was muffled, but no one wished to move, much less speak.
The atmosphere of the room had truly begun to grate on his nerves, and then the spymasters practically bounded into the room; and bounded was just the right word for it. The normally somber, subdued Andrew had a spring to his step, and the slightly upturned corners of his lips looked almost foreign on the usually unexpressive face. Aaron, on the other hand, appeared as a picture of glee in motion. His face had split into a grin which showed nearly every tooth he had, and each step seemed to lift him completely clear of the ground. The man looked like someone too full of energy to understand the concept of being still, and he nearly vibrated with…something. Something that looked like it needed a way out.
Lucas felt hope stir deep within, and the mood of the room pick up, as the spymaster approached a chair from one side, tried to sit but stepped away, approached the chair from the other side and did the same, and finally settle for standing behind the chair and leaning on it. The man finally stood ‘still’, though that just made him look like he had begun vibrating and could explode.
A young woman wearing an intelligence uniform and Second Lieutenant stripes followed them in. The girl appeared to be having trouble understanding her boss’s enthusiasm, but moved like she believed herself responsible for it.
A sweep of the room showed that all eyes were on Aaron’s, but Aaron’s eyes, face, and Cheshire-cat grin were planted firmly on Lucas. Lucas felt the hope caused by the man’s attitude pull his lips into a smile, despite the fact that there had been no briefing on whatever had Aaron so excited. It seemed a good time to dispense with normal protocol, and it only took a motion of the hand to set the barrel-chested man in motion like a steamroller thundering down a hill.
“Sir, I would like to present Second Lieutenant Yolanda, and recommend her for promotion to First Lieutenant for performing above expectations in the execution of her duties. Specifically, for identifying a potential flyer recruit, and solving our food worries.”
Lucas wasn’t sure if the suggested promotion or the assertion that she had solved their problems caused the young woman to sink in her chair, but he knew which caused the entire council to buzz with conversation. He wasn’t sure what Aaron might be playing at with Yolanda, but decided to play along. “Well, single-handedly solving our food crisis is a bold claim, Yolanda, on what basis do you make it?”
The fear of being in front of the council showed on the woman’s face, but she did not flinch from his gaze as
she peered from under her eyebrows and replied, “With respect to my superiors, Sir, I do not know what the General is referring to. I am just a field operative who recently came back with some grain and recordings from a backwater colony. I’m assuming, from the General’s statements, that the geneticists found the grain to be of some sort of use.”
A wry note rang in the woman’s voice, as if a joke she did not care for was being played on her. Lucas suppressed a grin and turned a quizzical look at Aaron, who spoke immediately, “I just got the report on that grain sample Yolanda is referring to half an hour ago, and just finished reading it five minutes ago, or I would have brought it to you before this meeting. More on that in a moment. First I would like to get this promotion over with, then I’d like to let Yolanda introduce you to the place she spent the last few months investigating."
Lucas tapped steepled fingers to his lips a few times, leaned back in his chair, and spoke, “Very well. First Lieutenant, please enlighten us. Aaron can arrange for me to personally hand you your pips in...” A pair of brass pins skittered across the table at him. He scooped them and stood in the same motion, shot a dirty look at Aaron's wholly unrepentant grin, and continued, ".. front of the council, right now. ATTEN-SHUN!"
He held back a grin as Aaron banged his head on a lamp responding -by reflex- to the command. Several other chairs flew back as those with strong military training bolted to their feet.
Yolanda looked confused, then embarrassed, then stood and did her best to emulate her boss. He had to admit she managed a passable attempt at attention, even if her eyes seemed unable to find a place to stay.
He came around the table in measured strides, refusing to pay attention to the various grins around the room. "First Lieutenant Yolanda, for performance above and beyond the call of duty, thinking on your feet, and bringing vital intelligence back to The Column, I hereby waive the usual requirements for advancement, and formally uphold and advance the promotion to First Lieutenant granted to you approximately thirty seconds ago, with all of the rights and responsibilities thereto appertaining."
Some shuffling occurred around the room, but no one wanted to ruin the moment for the young women, so no giggles escaped, but Yolanda finally got some color back in her cheeks. He placed the pins as he continued to speak, "As part of this impromptu promotion you are to be granted three days leave, starting the minute you step out that door. During this time your chain of command is forbidden to contact you for any reason." This brought a slight strangled sound From Aaron, and he suppressed another grin.
The girl deserved it, from what he had heard, but Aaron would normally been the one to grant the leave. He didn't get to upstage Aaron often, and he deserved it for tossing a set of pips at him without even giving him the promotee's full name. "Enjoy your time off, and your new responsibilities." With that he saluted, and performed a smart about-face, then strode back to his chair. He took his seat before he barked "AT EASE!" and allowed the room to relax.
Everyone began to clap, and he allowed Yolanda to bask in the moment. It wasn't every day that the high muckety-muck handed out promotions to the bottom end of the officer core, after all. Once the applause died down he gestured for her to give her report.
She took a few moments to collect herself, then looked at Andrew, who hit some buttons on the console in front of him. Both the holo-projector on the table and the screens along the wall came to life and the lights dimmed. The screens showed a panoramic view of the ocean, while the holo-projector showed a small settlement nestled at the base of a spire-like mountain jutting out of the sea: The spire shape of the mountain was a bit unusual, but the scene in general was a familiar enough sight on Kethelmar.
The thing which caught everyone’s attention was the cylindrical structures which started at the beginning of the rock slope and continued back until the rock became too steep. Unlike everything else in on the island these structures looked sloppy, as if hastily constructed, but they could only be one thing. A thing which caused gasps around the room as people realized what, and how many, they were. No settlement had need of that many grain silos, but there they were. Those silos held enough grain to keep them from having to buy outside grain for at least the next years, maybe two years.
Yolanda spoke into the gasps of surprise, “This is the island of Lancern. A small, out of the way settlement of such little consequence that it doesn’t even appear on most charts. I was sent to find out why it boasts a garrison completely out of proportion to the island’s population. Details of the garrison should be showing on your screens.
“The purpose for the garrison is two-fold: to watch the grain, and to watch the garrison. Every major house has at least four flyers and several ground troops there, and every minor house has at least one flyer and a fist full of troops. All of them Legion, all family, no hired hands, no pleabs. Apparently the men who are stationed there were put in place to watch each other as much as those silos. Silos which are full, by the way, though I do not know why the grain is important.”
A cloud came over the young woman's face, and her eyes hardened. "What I do know, however, is that the Legion is acting like a military invasion force, and the citizens kept on the edge of starvation. The Legion has already eaten most of their animals, and they won't let them at the grain in their own silos.
“Notice also that the fields lie barren: they won't let them plant any crops at all. And, that is only the half of it. Several of the young ladies are pregnant with Legion babies, none willingly, and I am pretty sure, from some of the recordings, that they have killed a few of the children in order to force the populace in line."
The last line was delivered with a snarl, and Lucas felt bile rise in his throat at what Yolanda had all but suggested, and he feared Aaron was about to propose. He put his hand on the table and started to rise. Killing that many Family would create a great many additional problems, and the grain would forestall their issues, not solve them. Aaron peeked around the hologram and held up a forestalling hand, however. Lucas narrowed his eyes and held the spymaster’s gaze for several moments, but the openness of Aaron’s face spoke a promise which he decided to accept.
Yolanda continued to speak as Lucas sank back into his chair. “Since returning and handing in a sample of that grain I have learned a few things about the place. It was started some years ago by a handful of middle-class families who wanted to get away from CentGov, the mobs, us, and the crush of people found in most communities. They did not apply for a charter, SatLink, or anything else; they just saved up their money, bought their provisions, bought a ship, and went. Their ship was listed as ‘lost at sea’ when it never returned, and no one was the wiser. It seems that they wanted to avoid the compulsory oversight and CentGov-appointed governor which comes with an actual charter. I have no idea why they are now suddenly on the grid and being firmly sat upon by CentGov.”
Aaron cleared his throat, motioning for Yolanda to take her seat, “Well spoken, Yolanda, I may have you start helping me with these presentations more often.” Lucas covered his smile with a hand when the Lieutenant went pale at Aaron’s remark.
Aaron winked at her then continued, “I think I have an answer to the importance of the grain, and the Garrison. Some of you will remember a few months ago when there was a major grain scare which caused CentGov to seize and destroy a great deal of ‘tainted’ grain. I’m guessing that the grain in question came from this place, and was only tainted in the sense that it would have cut into the profits of several large farming concerns. It seems that when our intrepid explorers landed on this scrap of land they stumbled onto a major find. To explain this ‘taint’ I call on our very own Jared, who was too busy to leave his labs but was kind enough to consent to joining us by vid.”
Lucas smiled as Jared’s face replaced the hologram in the middle of the table. The man’s face was a picture of nervousness, and Lucas considered it likely that Aaron had an operative in the lab to make sure the call got answered. For all the man’s nervousness,
though, he spoke in excited tones, “Sir, I would have called you to the lab when we confirmed our findings, but Aaron insisted on waiting.
“As to the grain: these are ancient strains of the stuff, sir. None of this has ever seen a gene-sequencer, nor a splice. The probable nutritional value is hardly to be believed. Our guess is that at some point in the past the winds or birds or something carried some of the original, un-engineered strains of several types of grain to this island, where they have been happily growing ever since. “
Aaron spoke into the quiet caused by the geneticist’s words, “Thank you, Doctor. If there is nothing else, I’ll quit taking up your time.” A look of relief passed over the floating face as it vanished from above the table.
Aaron looked around the room before pressing on, “From the stunned looks I see some of you, at least, understand the import of this. For the rest, let me spell it out: These grains are hearty enough to have survived all this time without any human intervention at all. We expect the yields from these grains to be far better than what we see with the anemic mono-culture stock in use these days”
Lucas felt his eyes grow large as the sight of those silos caused a near-giddy feeling to settle in his chest. Then a stray thought hit him, and he turned irritated eyes, once again, to his spymaster. Aaron seemed to read his mind, gave an apologetic smile, and continued speaking, “Before you get upset with me about not bringing this to you sooner, Lucas, let me assure you that we had not connected that grain scare last year to this place until Yolanda showed up with a handful of it.
“It seems that these people didn’t realize what they had, but did cultivate it well. They had it stored in various small silos around their island, and were making bulk sales to a number of small distribution companies. Once someone figured out what it was, the Families who control grain production started having kittens, as you might be able to imagine.
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