There were more guards here, of course, but Carmen had the necessary access pass. She did have to leave her rifle with the security post at the main entry.
Hofer’s private secretary looked up as she entered the outer office. “Good morning,” he said, polite and deferential without being servile in any way.
“Hey, Palmer,” Carmen said.
AI assistants were cheap and common, and always in danger of being hacked and revealing everything they knew. Human assistants cost a lot more, but weren’t nearly so easily subverted. An assistant like Palmer, loyal, discreet, and reliable, could command a salary almost as high as whomever they worked for. Because, also unlike AI assistants, such men and women couldn’t be manufactured on demand.
Palmer smiled at her. They’d become acquainted when Carmen first reached Kosatka. The older man had judged her at that time and been her ally ever since. “Welcome back, Citizen Ochoa.”
For her part, Carmen had quickly learned to admire the sheer professionalism and courtesy with which Palmer handled the job of being the gatekeeper for the First Minister. She smiled in return. “You were able to set up a meeting for me?”
“Yes. Fifteen minutes from now. Coffee?” Palmer made an apologetic grimace. “It’s not really coffee.”
She looked at the dark liquid, sniffing. “What is it?”
“A mix of a native nut and Earth-origin wheat, ground and roasted.”
“Is there any caffeine in it?”
“No,” Palmer admitted.
“Why drink it?” Carmen wondered. She took a cautious taste and winced.
“I’m not sure,” Palmer said. “I guess it gives a semblance of normalcy. That’s important, isn’t it? To remember that the current state of affairs is not normal, and to believe that it will not be permanent.”
“You’re right. How’s the First Minister holding up?”
“Well, considering the pressure on him.” Palmer eyed her. “You rarely express open concern as you did when asking for this meeting.”
Carmen looked down at the foul liquid that passed for coffee in Lodz these days. “As you said, we have to ensure that the current conditions don’t become regarded as normal.”
“You know that you have been cited as a problem by a certain government office?”
“Let’s say I’m not surprised. How has the First Minister responded?”
“With skepticism,” Palmer said. “But I think you’re wise to come here and make your case in person.”
“You’ve entered this meeting into Hofer’s schedule?”
“Yes. Of course. Half an hour ago.”
“Have you notified anyone of it?”
“Only the First Minister.” Palmer raised an eyebrow at her. “What are you up to?”
“Setting a trap. I’m the bait.” Carmen tried another taste of the fake coffee before setting it aside with a shudder. “Maybe we should send that to the enemy troops holding out around Ani. A few drinks of it and they’ll probably surrender.”
“Perhaps Lochan Nakamura will return aboard a ship loaded with coffee, chocolate, and other off-world necessities.”
Despite her nervousness, Carmen let out a short laugh. “That’d make Lochan the most popular person on Kosatka, wouldn’t it?”
Palmer looked upward toward the ceiling. It was funny how everyone did that, Carmen thought. Whenever they thought of events on other worlds or in space or in other star systems, they looked up as if those things would somehow be visible to their gaze even though the odds that they were looking in anything like the right direction were vanishingly small. But, still, people looked up. “Did Nakamura make it to Eire, do you think?”
She nodded. “Lochan is surprisingly resourceful when it’s needed.”
“Brigit Kelly asked if we had any news of him.”
“Kelly would know faster than we would.” Carmen looked a question at Palmer. “Why was she asking?”
Palmer smiled. “For professional reasons, she said, her being Eire’s representative on Kosatka. But I believe there may be personal reasons for her interest as well.”
“Oh? Lochan hasn’t told me there was anything going on with Kelly.” Carmen felt her protective instincts kick in. “I’ll need to find out more about her.”
“From what I know of her, you don’t need to worry.” Palmer looked up, his smile fading into a look of bland politeness as Jayne Redman entered the office. “Citizen Redman?”
The head of the Integrated Intelligence Service offered a perfunctory nod to Palmer, ignoring Carmen. “I need to see the First Minister.”
Carmen, noting that the words were given as a command rather than a request, watched Palmer, admiring how well he concealed his annoyance. “The First Minister will be available after meeting with Citizen Ochoa.”
“The meeting is why I’m here. Is there any reason why I shouldn’t be present during that meeting?” Redman asked, her eyes finally resting on Carmen.
Carmen feigned a look of not-quite-suppressed confusion and guilt. “No reason at all.” Inside, she felt her heart leap with jubilation. She’d been right in her guess of some of what the IIS would be up to, and Redman had taken the bait as eagerly as a starving fish leaping for a worm.
She couldn’t always predict what one person would do, but predicting what a certain type of person would do in a certain situation was becoming easier all the time.
“Coffee?” Palmer offered.
“No,” Redman said. She pulled out her comm pad and made a show out of working on it as she waited.
It was, Carmen thought, an ostentatious display of importance, as well as a way to dismiss the presence of the others in the room. Again, just what she’d have expected from Redman.
At the appointed time, Palmer opened the door to the First Minister’s office. “Citizen Ochoa is here to see you, sir. As well as Citizen Redman.”
The First Minister sat behind a large but not fancy desk whose surfaces bore the scars of rough searches when enemy forces had occupied this building. Carmen had no doubt that Hofer had continued using that desk not in spite of the damage but because of it, as one more sign of what Kosatka had endured and overcome. When Carmen entered, she got a quick smile from Hofer, followed by a quizzical look as Hofer’s eyes rested on Redman. “What’s this about?” he asked Carmen.
“I hoped to be able to discuss some matters that are concerning me,” Carmen said, using her most formal manner of speaking, and realizing how that contrasted with her worn battle uniform.
“That’s why I’m here as well,” Redman chimed in. “First Minister, there are—”
“Hold on. Since this is supposed to be a meeting with Citizen Ochoa, I’ll let her go first.”
Carmen took care not to look triumphant. “I’m worried about two issues. One is the ongoing effort to eliminate alternate perspectives in the information you and other leaders receive, and the other is the concentration of power in certain offices.”
“I see.” Hofer’s gaze went to Redman, giving no clue as to what he thought of what Carmen had said. “Those issues do seem to involve you, Citizen Redman.”
“First Minister, I’ve been discussing with you the problems with a few unassimilated intelligence assets,” Redman said. “This offers a good opportunity to address that issue.”
Hofer gave her a skeptical look. “Are you saying that Citizen Ochoa is one of those . . . what did you call them?”
“Unassimilated assets.”
“I see. And why is that a problem in the case of Citizen Ochoa?”
Redman sighed as if reluctant to say more. “First Minister, she’s providing personal, untrained impressions of the intelligence picture to portions of Kosatka’s defensive infrastructure. That’s leading to erroneous impressions of enemy capabilities and intentions, which imperil not only the safety and security of our world, but al
so the lives of our brave defenders.”
First Minister Hofer pursed his lips as if considering Redman’s words. “You are aware that Citizen Ochoa has been working on the front lines in Ani? That she is one of Kosatka’s brave defenders?”
Redman smiled apologetically. “I didn’t mean to impugn the bravery of Citizen Ochoa. This is about her judgment, her training, and her uncontrolled, autonomous actions that endanger other defenders of our world.”
“That’s a reasonable concern,” Hofer said. “Citizen Ochoa, Palmer tells me that General Edelman recently assigned you to a formal position on his staff. Why was that done?”
“To protect me,” Carmen said. “Citizen Redman wants to . . . assimilate me, place me under her control.”
Hofer held up a restraining hand as Redman began to speak. “Citizen Ochoa, why did General Edelman wish to protect you?”
“Because he trusts my assessments of the enemy forces.”
“Which differ from those of the Integrated Intelligence Service?”
“Yes, sir,” Carmen said.
“First Minister,” Jayne Redman said, speaking sharply. She saw Hofer’s unhappy reaction to her tone and moderated it quickly. “I can show you our assessments, and the data, sources, and material that went into those assessments, which are being made by trained individuals without any personal axes to grind.”
“What would you say to that?” Hofer asked Carmen.
She knew what he was doing, giving both her and Redman plenty of rope to see if one of them would hang themselves with it. So Carmen chose her words carefully and kept her voice calm and respectful. “I’d say that the data, sources, and material chosen to make those assessments were very carefully chosen to support a predetermined judgment. What you should be concerned with are the data, sources, and material that do not support the assessments of the IIS, and which you will not be told of because the purpose of the IIS is to produce a single point of view.”
Redman snorted in derision. “Why are you afraid of the First Minister, and General Edelman, being provided with a single, correct picture?”
Carmen shook her head. “I said the IIS has the purpose of producing a single point of view. I never said it was a correct picture. That’s the problem. The First Minister, and others in the government, have no way of knowing what you’re not telling them. There is no agency or service independent of the IIS serving as a devil’s advocate for the assessments the IIS makes. Based on my experience, I believe that’s a serious mistake.”
“First Minister Hofer,” Redman said, her voice and posture now stiff with outrage, “I must object to being accused of professional misconduct.”
The emotional reaction and claim that Carmen was attacking her were both predictable reactions, ones that Carmen had expected and didn’t let rattle her. “Undetected errors and unquestioned assumptions,” Carmen said. “That’s what I’m warning of.”
“That’s exactly—!”
“All right.” Hofer wasn’t a large or physically dominating man, but he’d learned to use his voice to accomplish the same purpose. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “If I understand your concern, Citizen Ochoa, it’s that you think the entire concept of the IIS is a mistake.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But you realize as well as anyone that Kosatka has extremely limited resources.” Hofer paused, his eyes clouded with unpleasant thoughts. “I have to constantly balance what goes where, and there’s never enough. The IIS eliminates duplication and waste, doesn’t it?”
“My argument, sir,” Carmen said, “is that in this case, the efficiencies created by combining everything into one service controlled by one individual could well lead to far greater costs to Kosatka than any extra spending required for an independent check on the intelligence you and other decision makers are provided.” At times like this she was grateful for the practice in diplomatic speech her time at the Earth government offices in Albuquerque had provided.
“That is an accusation and a personal attack on me,” Jayne Redman insisted.
“It is not,” Carmen said, sure that she’d phrased her words to avoid justifying Redman’s claim. “First Minister, no one in a free system of government should operate without independent oversight. People are entrusted with power, but they are never trusted to use that power without someone else watching them. That is a principle enshrined in the ideals of Earth government. I have personally seen, on Mars, what happens when powerful people do not have independent checks on their actions.”
Hofer frowned again, this time plainly uncomfortable with her words. “That is tantamount to a warning that Citizen Redman will misuse her authority. I’d need to see some examples of such a thing before making any decision.”
Carmen sighed to cover her nervousness as the vital moment approached. “First Minister, one of the serious flaws with the IIS is that any such examples would be known only to the IIS. How would you ever know if their powers had been abused? Fortunately, I can provide an example of what I’m concerned about. Sir, did you tell Citizen Redman that I’d be meeting with you?”
“No.”
“Yet she appeared in your outer office a few minutes before the meeting, insisting that she should also be present.”
Redman, suddenly realizing what Carmen had done, hesitated before speaking quickly. “I didn’t know—”
“Palmer can tell you what was said, First Minister.”
Hofer’s frown deepened considerably as he realized the meaning behind Carmen’s words. “Did Palmer notify you of the meeting?” he asked Redman.
Redman hesitated again. “I . . .”
“He did not,” Carmen said. “I asked. Citizen Palmer entered the information about the meeting in your private schedule, and in about half an hour, before the time of the meeting, Citizen Redman arrived saying she was there to join the meeting.”
Hofer’s frown was now directed exclusively at Jayne Redman. “My private schedule. How were you aware of the change in that schedule without being notified, Citizen Redman?”
Carmen waited, watching Redman, who had recovered her balance enough to frown slightly as if puzzled.
“I received an update. I’ll look into how that information was acquired,” Redman said.
“You’ll look into how you or someone else in IIS immediately knew of a change to the First Minister’s private schedule?” Carmen asked. “Are you saying you’re unaware that the IIS has been reading the First Minister’s mail?”
It was the sort of question that the head of the IIS couldn’t answer either yes or no to without getting into trouble. Backed into a corner, Redman shifted her approach even as she cast Carmen a look that promised a dire fate. “Monitoring the expected movements of the First Minister is a vital component in ensuring his security. We have to be sure anywhere he goes is safe before he gets there, and ensure anyone he plans to meet with is not . . . dangerous.”
“Citizen Redman,” Hofer said, his voice harsh, “I thought I had clearly stated that my private scheduling information should not be shared beyond my personal security detail.”
“First Minister, your safety—”
“My safety is the responsibility of the Public Security Coordinator. Does he know you’re monitoring my private schedule and intruding on his work? Should I call him in and ask?”
Redman paused. “Sir, you approved consolidating intelligence resources formerly scattered throughout Public Security—”
“I didn’t approve changing their tasking! I made my wishes clear, those wishes were disregarded, and if not for this incident I’d never have known.” Hofer sat back, still frowning. “This does illustrate the point that Citizen Ochoa is making. It’s a concern our own history back on Old Earth should have warned us of, where autocratic governments gathered information on anything they pleased. There’s no longer anyone outside the IIS who could hav
e told me the IIS was monitoring my future schedule despite my clearly stated wishes to the contrary. If not for this meeting . . .” Hofer paused this time, his frown slowly shifting into an appraising gaze as he looked over at Carmen.
She kept a straight face as she nodded once in reply to the unspoken comment.
“First Minister—” Redman began.
“I’ll discuss this matter further with the Public Security Coordinator,” Hofer said, his tone making it clear that this meeting was over. “And, Citizen Redman, I want any taps on my private schedule to cease immediately. Is that clear?”
“Yes, First Minister. I deeply regret any misunderstanding that led to inadvertent—”
“Yes, yes.” Hofer waved off Redman’s words and not-really-an-apology. “Thank you for stopping by, Citizen Ochoa. You’ve always been an invaluable aid to Kosatka. Will you be in Lodz for long?”
“I was going to surprise Dominic and then head back to Ani first thing tomorrow,” Carmen said.
“Please give my best wishes to your husband!”
As soon as the door closed behind them, Jayne Redman blocked Carmen from walking farther. “I underestimated you,” Redman said, her gaze boring into Carmen.
Carmen smiled slightly in reply. “People do that.”
“I won’t make the same mistake again. Next time we fight, you’ll lose.”
“That’s your problem, isn’t it?” Carmen heard how cold her voice had gone, and wondered how her face looked as Redman stared at her. “You think I’m the enemy. You want to fight me. You claim to be able to control all of the intelligence assets on Kosatka, and you don’t even know that the enemy is in Ani, not in this room. You’re not really focused on fighting the people who threaten us, but on fighting anyone who threatens the little bureaucratic empire you’re striving to create. That’s not acceptable in my book.”
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