Ignotus

by Kevin Hardman

  “So how do I know whether anything you tell me is true?”

  In a move that was uncharacteristic for her, Chantrey let out an audible groan of frustration and spent a moment rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger.

  “I swear, Gant,” she grumbled, “sometimes you make me want to scream when you start giving me the third degree like this.”

  “So scream,” he said. “This office was built for confidential communications. The walls are soundproof. Scream your head off if you want. And after you get it all out, please answer my question.”

  Chantrey sat back, crossing her arms and giving him a steely look.

  “Okay, here’s the truth,” she stated. “Your thinking’s outmoded. You’re still operating under the belief that the powers that be want to keep you in the dark as much as possible. Well, here’s a news flash for you: we are well past the point of them worrying about what bits of knowledge are bumbling around like tumbleweeds in the head of Lieutenant Arrogant Maker.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Maker demanded.

  “It means that the people in charge don’t care what you know. They don’t care who you date. They don’t care if you get the recommended daily allowance of vitamins and minerals. All they care about at this point in time is what you’re going to do with respect to this mission. More importantly, if my answering your questions truthfully and honestly gets them their desired outcome, they don’t care about the rest.”

  Maker didn’t immediately comment, choosing instead to ruminate for a second on what Chantrey had just said. In all honesty, it made sense and his gut instinct told him she was being straightforward.

  “Well?” Chantrey said expectantly, cutting across his thoughts.

  “All right, all right,” Maker conceded. “Your point is well-taken.”

  “And?” she inquired, lifting an eyebrow.

  “And I don’t think I’m a mark or getting hustled.”

  Smiling slightly, Chantrey twirled her hand in a keep-it-coming gesture.

  Maker sighed. “And I’m sorry for suggesting that you might have been disingenuous.”

  “Hmmm,” Chantrey droned, crinkling her brow as if contemplating something. “Not the greatest apology I’ve ever heard, but probably the best I can get out of you. Anyway, let’s just fast-forward to the part where you make it up to me.”

  “Fine,” Maker said almost sheepishly. “What can I do to make this right?”

  “Well, there is something,” she cooed with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I seem to recall you making mention of soundproof walls, so that just leaves one question.” Smiling coquettishly, she hooked a thumb over her shoulder towards the entrance to Maker’s office and asked, “Does that door lock?”

  Chapter 18

  “What are you so chipper about?” Adames asked, eyeing Maker warily.

  “Huh?” Maker replied, caught unawares.

  “You were whistling,” Adames noted.

  Maker stared at him for a moment, eyebrows raised. “Was I?”

  “Yeah, and you’ve been grinning like the Cheshire Cat ever since Ariel brought you lunch.”

  “Oh,” Maker muttered. “Guess I’ve just been thinking about how great it would be to shove Skullcap out an airlock on this mission.”

  Adames grunted noncommittally in response, as if Maker’s answer barely bordered on the edge of being acceptable.

  They were currently alone in the open area of the warehouse, taking inventory. Following Chantrey’s departure, Maker had come out and told everybody to add a couple of items to their individual chores.

  “By midnight tonight,” he’d announced, “I’m going to need each of you to provide me with a wish list – whatever supplies, equipment, gear, or materiel you’d ideally like to have. Not what you think we can get; whatever you’d like to have, no matter how far-fetched. In addition, I want everybody to update their dream sheet.”

  His statement had been met with silent surprise. However, rather than brook questions, Maker had essentially ordered everyone but Adames out, ostensibly to do research on (and put some thought into) complying with his request.

  “You know,” he now said to Adames, “my earlier comment applies to you as well.”

  “You mean regarding the dream sheet?” the NCO asked. “My ideal assignment? I’m doing it. In case you didn’t notice, I love this job.”

  “I was talking more about the wish list.”

  “Pshaw!” the NCO uttered disdainfully. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Gant, but wrangling stuff that’s purportedly impossible to get is half the fun for a guy like me. Having a wish list that gets filled just by asking will suck all the joy out of my work.”

  Maker chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry about it. There’s always another unattainable item popping up on the horizon that someone will need you to get.”

  “In the past, sure. But now? Let’s face it: you’ve got a mindboggling amount of leverage. You could probably ask to be promoted to general and they’d agree.”

  “Yes, and it would be followed by an equally fast demotion as soon as this mission’s over,” Maker shot back, although the comment did tickle something at the back of his brain. “Basically, this bargaining chip we’ve been handed has an expiration date.”

  “But let me guess: you’ve got some ideas about how to extend its shelf life.”

  Rather than respond verbally, Maker gave his NCO a sly grin that told him all he needed to know.

  Chapter 19

  Maker stayed up late getting ready for his meeting with Lafayette, but had no trouble rising early the next morning, courtesy of a scheduled wake-up call. After a light breakfast consisting of cereal and milk, he said good-bye to Erlen and headed out. Upon leaving the VOQ, however, he was surprised to see a staff car with tinted windows hovering just outside the exit.

  A young sergeant – apparently the driver – stood near the rear door of the car. After seeing Maker, he opened the door and saluted. Understanding what was expected of him, Maker returned the salute and climbed inside. As he could have predicted, Lafayette was in the vehicle, waiting on him.

  “I hope you don’t mind if we do this in transit,” Lafayette said as Maker got comfortable. “You didn’t appear to be flexible on the time, so I’m having to squeeze this in between other commitments. Plus, as I’m sure you realize, time is of the essence.”

  “Not a problem,” Maker replied as the young sergeant got in and started driving.

  “Great. We’ll make sure you have a ride back to your quarters.”

  “Works for me,” Maker stated indifferently, “although I’m curious as to how long you were outside waiting for me.”

  “Not as long as you might suspect,” Lafayette said with a grin. “We have computer modeling and simulations which can extrapolate roughly how long it takes to get from the VOQ to the ‘holding tank,’ as you put it. Pairing that with the time you proposed for meeting, and we had a pretty rough idea of when you’d be stepping outside.”

  “Or you just had the hotel tell you what time my wake-up call was for and made an educated guess based on that.”

  Lafayette gave Maker an appraising stare, almost as if he were seeing the lieutenant for the very first time.

  “Anyway,” the admiral said after a few seconds, “you asked for this meeting, so I’m at your disposal.”

  “I’ll do the mission,” Maker stated without preamble.

  “Excellent,” Lafayette commented with a smile.

  “But I’ve got some conditions,” Maker added.

  “Of course you do,” Lafayette acknowledged with a nod. “I would, too, if I were in your position. So what is it that you’re asking for?”

  “A new ship, for starters. Something top-of-the-line and state-of-the-art, with the latest in offensive weapons capability, defense systems, etcetera. All the bells and whistles.”

  “Not a problem,” Lafayette assured him. “In fact, your buddy Browing already got the ball roll
ing in that department – started reaching out to folks yesterday.”

  Maker frowned. Browing’s actions had not only implied that he’d take the mission (seemingly at a point in time before Maker himself knew), but also hinted at something else that Maker didn’t particularly want to dwell on.

  “That can’t be all,” Lafayette declared, interrupting Maker’s thoughts.

  “It isn’t,” Maker replied. “I also want medals and commendations.”

  “Oh, really?” Lafayette said sarcastically. “And which specific honors do you find yourself deserving of, Lieutenant?”

  “Not me,” Maker clarified. “My people. They’ve gone up against the Vacra twice now, facing incredible odds each time, and managed to come away victorious on both occasions. I’ve nominated them for a slew of awards because of their valor, gallantry, and distinguished service, but haven’t heard anything back yet.”

  Lafayette nodded approvingly. “We’ll take care of it.”

  “Before we leave on this mission,” Maker insisted.

  “Of course. Now, what’s next on your list?”

  “Our ambassador friend,” Maker said acerbically. “If we’re going on a road trip together, I want to know everything about him.”

  “Like what?” Lafayette asked, frowning. “His pedigree? Whether he went to an Ivy League school? If he’s married or has kids?”

  “I’m not talking about any of that crap,” Maker grumbled. “I’m talking about him physically. How much can he lift, how far can he see, how good is his hearing, and so on. I want to know as much as possible about what I’m dealing with in case he gives us trouble.”

  Lafayette seemed to reflect for a moment. “I’ll have to check to see how much of that we have.”

  “Fair enough,” Maker said, although he had no doubt that from the moment Skullcap had been found, the necessary folks had been scanning the insectoid from top to bottom (not to mention doing whatever they could to get a sample of anything he secreted or excreted).

  “So what’s next?” Lafayette inquired.

  “This,” Maker replied, handing the admiral a data chip that he’d been holding in his palm.

  Lafayette stared at the chip for a moment, then asked, “Okay, what’s on it?”

  “For starters, a Christmas list from each member of my team – everything Santa forgot to bring them last year.”

  “Done,” Lafayette said flatly. “What else you got?”

  Maker eyed him suspiciously. “Don’t you even want to know what they’re asking for?”

  “Doesn’t matter. As long as it’s not overtly or blatantly illegal, we can make it happen. So what else can I do you for?”

  “There’s also some other stuff on there about my people getting hardship duty pay…”

  “You got it.”

  “…hostile fire pay…”

  “No problem.”

  “…imminent danger pay…”

  “Stop,” Lafayette ordered, holding up a hand, palm outward, for emphasis. “I can’t give you hostile fire pay and imminent danger pay. There’s a slight difference in the definition between the two, but for pay purposes the military considers them the same. In essence, if you’re under hostile fire then you’re in imminent danger. Ergo, you can get one or the other, but not both.”

  “Oh,” Maker muttered in a contemplative tone. “I guess I didn’t realize that.”

  “Or you were testing me,” Lafayette suggested. “Seeing if I’d be truthful, or just promise you anything under the sun in order to get you to take this mission.”

  “I’m just a dumb Marine, sir,” Maker said, almost defensively. “You give me too much credit.”

  “Or maybe not enough,” the admiral countered.

  Ignoring Lafayette’s comment on his purported shrewdness, Maker asked, “Are you saying you can’t do it?”

  “Ha!” Lafayette boomed contemptuously. “Let’s be honest: the money’s not the problem. I can pay you pretty much anything you ask for, and probably would. The issue is how I get it to you. In this instance, to avoid the appearance of double-dipping, I think I’ll pay you officially for the hostile fire and give you the imminent danger compensation as a bonus.”

  “What does it matter?”

  The admiral looked at him askance. “Okay, smart guy, let’s say you ask for a million simoleons. I could transfer it into a bank account that only you have access to, or I could walk into the Officer’s Mess while you’re having dinner and dump it all on the table in front of you while everyone’s watching. The difference, I’m sure you’d agree, is that one way is more palatable than the other.”

  “No argument there,” Maker said.

  “Likewise, forcing the military pay system to issue two forms of remuneration when it’s only designed to distribute one will cause numerous people – including me – to jump through various hoops unnecessarily, as well as draw unwanted attention. It’s a lot easier to call the money a bonus and give it to you that way.”

  “That’s okay,” Maker declared. “Let’s just forget about the imminent danger pay.”

  Lafayette raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want the bonus?”

  “Not if it’s double-dipping.”

  “So you were testing me,” Lafayette concluded.

  “I’m just not interested in the Marines compensating me for something I’m not entitled to.”

  “Does that mean you don’t want the hardship pay, either?”

  Now it was Maker’s turn to give the admiral a sideways glance. “Excuse me?”

  “Hardship pay is usually reserved for units serving in locations with onerous living conditions. Things like a desert planet with perpetual sandstorms, or a world full of plants that human beings are allergic to. You and your crew are basically taking a leisure cruise.”

  “Well, I appreciate your assessment, Admiral,” Maker intoned. “However, you seem to have overlooked the fact that hardship pay also applies to unhealthy psychological conditions. I’d say this mission qualifies.”

  “The conditions in question have to be documented as extreme or egregious in order to qualify on a psychological basis,” Lafayette noted. “Otherwise every soldier would be entitled to it.”

  “Just in case you forgot, my team will basically be serving as bodyguards to someone who wanted to wipe out the entire human race, starting with us. That’s taking quite a mental toll – a fact which you’ll find documented by a physician in the files on that data chip.”

  “A physician?” the admiral repeated skeptically. “I don’t suppose this doctor happens to be an Augman attached to your squad.”

  “I don’t think his duty assignment affects his qualifications,” Maker noted.

  “No, but he could be biased.”

  “Then let me put it another way: I’m Maniac Maker. The general consensus is that I’m a basket case anyway. On top of that, I lead a crew of circus freaks who obviously have mental issues if they’re willing to follow me. In short, no one’s going to challenge any assessment that says the psychological condition of my people is less than stellar, regardless of who wrote it.”

  Lafayette just stared at him for a moment, then said, “You don’t miss a trick, do you?”

  Maker frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean, sir. I was just trying to justify the request for hardship duty pay. Nothing more.”

  “Nothing more, huh?” the admiral muttered, eyes narrowing. “Then why do I suddenly feel like I’ve been suckered into playing a game of chess with a grandmaster?”

  Maker chuckled. “I don’t know, since the guy you’re talking to is nothing but a pawn.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short,” Lafayette advised. “A pawn has the ability to become the most powerful piece on the board.”

  “Depends on who’s playing,” Maker stated, “and I’m not that good.”

  “So you say,” the admiral retorted. “Anyway, as I’ve already stated, money isn’t an issue, so why don’t we just cut to the chase and I’ll state for the record
that we will approve all of the assignment incentive pay requested, sans any double-dipping.”

  Maker nodded. “Sounds reasonable.”

  “Great. So rather than go through everything else piecemeal – and assuming that we’ll comply with essentially all of your requests – why don’t you highlight for me those things you think might be problematic, so I can start working on them if I have to?”

  “Fine by me,” Maker declared. “First, there’s a statement regarding the makeup of my team. I don’t want any mandatory transfers in either direction. None of my people get sent elsewhere involuntarily, and we don’t get any losers shoved down our throats.”

  “That’s easy enough,” Lafayette asserted. “What’s next?”

  “I had my people update their dream sheets. When they’re ready to leave the team, they get the assignment of their choice.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “Finally, I want Adames promoted to chief again.”

  Maker’s statement was followed by silence, as for once Lafayette seemed at a loss for words.

  “Are you sure about that?” the admiral asked after a few moments.

  “Of course,” Maker declared emphatically. “He deserves it. I’d have given him a field promotion when we were battling the Vacra if I’d had the authority.”

  Lafayette rubbed his chin for a moment, then said, “Look, we can certainly make this happen, but here’s the thing: he’s made chief master sergeant twice already, followed by demotions both times. I get that he’s your second-in-command and you want to do right by him, but maybe this isn’t the way.”

  Maker crossed his arms. “I beg to differ.”

  The admiral simply looked at him, frowning, then asked, “You ever hear of the Peter Principle?”

  “Sure,” Maker answered with a nod. “It’s an old-school management theory which says that individuals in an organizational hierarchy will rise to their ‘level of incompetence.’ Basically, it means that people in an organization will continue to get promoted as long as they’re competent at their job; at some juncture, however, they reach a level at which they become incompetent, and after that they don’t get promoted anymore.”