by J. N. Chaney
I sighed and mimicked the teaching in the strident tones of Professor Nhiki. “It lays out a gambit that allows you to control the interaction with a subject. Asking a question is an aggressive move that seeks to push an agenda and manipulate a subject.” Then in my usual tone I said, “It’s also how people show they care about what is happening to them and their time.”
Vetus Tribal smirked at my impression and gave me a nod. “Two answers, and both were equally valid.” He took a few rushed steps ahead of me, stopping at a door that led to small hangar, and checked his wrist unit. “We’re taking a personal transport into the atmosphere in ten minutes. Wait here.”
I waited patiently for the ten minutes to pass. Right on time, Vetus Tribal returned and brought me to a small two-person shuttle where he took the pilot’s seat. It occurred to me as I strapped in and we taxied out of the hangar that it could be about my afternoon spent with Tiro Shelton exposing Lanier instead of a mission, though I doubted it. That would garner no particular applause from the old man, and Tribal’s comments had all but confirmed my suspicions already.
“Craft TXX2-C, you are clear to join the queue.”
Dorian’s hands danced expertly over the controls as he keyed in a command that had the shuttle pulling a broad turn to the left and starting a slow pass of the Constable training complex. “You ready to learn how to control one of these things? Get your wings?”
I saw through the ruse easily and smiled.
“Mandated operating procedure requires twenty standard hours in a simulator then an additional forty with an assigned pilot. Then, only after a successful first mission will a Tiro be granted pilot privileges. I thought we only had time for one more lesson?” I quipped.
The Vetus laughed and opened the side panel on his uniform to pull out a pair of field glasses. “Never reach for an opportunity that serves to benefit no one. Here.” He handed me the glasses. “Take a look down there. Tell me what you see.”
I looked through the glasses and adjusted the magnification. In addition to magnification, they also boasted a recording feature that allowed me to selectively record and zoom after the fact. It was efficient tech, which offered an agent a chance to record a great amount of topographical information on a single pass of a target and review the imaging later.
“I see the campus. The bastion in the center, connecting the Red Tower and the dorms via skybridges. The courtyard. It’s getting dark, so the lights are on and only a handful of students are out. The Primus’ office is west of the bastion. A lot of lights on there. To the east are the maintenance facilities and the port we recently left. Nothing out of the ordinary there.”
I rewound the footage and checked for particulars. Nothing. I continued, “Northwest of the bastion is the firing gallery. To the south, the analyst and cipher corps, no visible lights, as usual. Only standby lights on in the applied physiology building west of that. Finally—” I paused, adjusting the zoom and enhancing the image to view the final small building. “—to the southeast, the security essentials building is barely visible. The cloaking field doesn’t work well when you know what should be there.”
I looked up from the glasses and Dorian nodded. He took another wide turn and brought us around again so we could join the short queue of other shuttles. “Now, look again without the glasses and tell me what you see.”
I looked down into the growing darkness at the disjointed buildings that comprised the Constable training grounds. Vetus Tribal was asking me a specific question, as he often did. This was another reason I liked the Constable. He constantly challenged me to do better. While my first answers were all correct, as he would have addressed any errors, the answers were insufficient. He was asking me to find another layer of meaning, just as I had with the reports for the mine in White Cross. The truth within the truth.
“The architecture doesn’t match. Not just because each building was built at a different time, though from the records, they were built within months of each other. I would understand that the building designs were varied to express the ideology behind the lessons taught in each. The analyst and cypher corps building is little more than a box. This is the optimal shape to restrict access and limit the profile against attacks. The building is dark and has no visual appeal in comparison to the rest of the campus. The bastion features a later design, one that predates the Union and Sarkonians. It represents the strength of an empire coupled with the sometimes-ramshackle nature of an outpost. The Red Keep looks nondescript and unimportant, while the armory and weapons facility looks powerful.” I frowned as the words came out. “Which gives potential attackers an easy target.”
Dorian put the controls on auto, letting the limited onboard computer take over, then turned and met my confused stare with a calm one.
“Think about it,” he said. “Most of the weapons on site are for training. If an enemy were stupid enough to attack, they wouldn’t get much. Our most precious resource is knowledge. By drawing attention elsewhere, the Red Tower follow protocols to protect the data. It’s our truth. Why do we value truth, Tiro Malloy?”
I considered the frankness of the question. Vetus Tribal had always spoken to me as a potential peer, as a proper mentor should, as if he was speaking to a version of me that he hoped to see arrive. This went beyond that. He wasn’t testing me for my knowledge of the subject. He was creating an opportunity to express something.
“Truth relates to understanding. Objects exist within the world and we interact with them. We can’t know everything, but we can separate what is actual from what is false. Truth produces results and propels us forward while the false, the unreal, and the impossible all hold us back.”
“Are you sure that the opposite of truth and reality hold no value?”
Truth was clearly the most important trait and its pursuit the most noble goal of a people. In the past two years, it had been driving me. Even before that, since I was born, I had sought out the way the universe worked and the things people missed but always seemed so obvious to me. All which had pushed me to a dark world alone. Truth was a force that had absolute power and needed to be controlled. But maybe it wasn’t as black and white as I’d believed.
“When selecting tools for a job, I prefer to get the ones that are most effective,” I replied, though less sure of myself than I had been.
Vetus Tribal controlled his response, remaining blank. “Why do we value justice, Tiro Malloy?”
This question was easier, and I answered without hesitation.
“Justice is about balance and the instruments of that balance. The three main ideas behind justice say that it must be impartial, act swiftly to prevent harm, and weigh sides carefully. Justice is as much a system of determining truth as it is about correcting society and citizens who are straying from established values and concerns.”
“All very educated and factual responses, kid. One last question. Try to think outside what you know for this one. Try a little… imagination. What is the purpose of the Constables?”
I hadn’t seen it before, but all his questions were about the same thing. The guise was different, but the underlying meaning remained consistent. “The Constables work to find what is hidden. They help maintain a unified society of order, stopping all those who would seek to fracture it.”
He nodded. “You’re on the right track but still sound like you’re reading something you memorized. How do they get their jobs done?”
“Through manipulation, subterfuge, and information control. Constables stand for truth and justice but employ the tactics of the very people they oppose. A Constable is the shadow of justice, capable and willing to do what one must to achieve a better outcome as a whole.” I paused, briefly reflecting on the words I had spoken. “That’s what you meant before. Truth is more powerful than deception, but that doesn’t mean deception has no power. The fourth aspect of justice is the shadow it casts, which protects those who enforce it from scrutiny. The Constables exist in that shadow. We work from within the da
rk.”
The Vetus turned back to the controls. “Good job. I wanted to make sure you had figured it out. You were recruited because you were smart, because you could read people, and because you have an impressive memory—”
“I was recruited because I used all those skills to thwart the Union,” I corrected, breaking in. “I took what I knew and used that power without consideration of the ultimate consequences. I showed Shaw that I could work outside of the system to beat the system.”
“Partially,” he said. “Shaw had his eye on you before all that because of your exceptional abilities. But those skills don’t make you a Constable. All of that is just potential. Now it’s time to apply what you’ve learned and see if you’ve got what it takes. There’s a certain… finesse to this job, Malloy.” He let the words hang there and I caught the implication.
I was reminded again of Shelton’s advice on blending, and so I nodded. “I understand. A friend today told me that I’m too formal.”
Dorian snorted. “The word around campus is that you need to pull the stick out of your ass and loosen up a little bit.”
This had made its way to my ears as well, but I’d stoutly ignored it. “It’s an issue I’m working on,” I said, attempting to be casual.
His eyebrows winged up at that and he offered me a grudging smile. “There’s an old saying,” he went on. “Fighting for the angels means dancing with the devils. Hold on to your ideals but remember that you do a dirty job because you are capable of sorting out the difference and seeing the job done. I won’t lie to you, Malloy. You’re going to have to make the hard decisions, but in a way that the populace will be better off for.”
He throttled up and I felt the acceleration pushing me into the seat.
“I realize it’s been a long day for you but find a second wind. I have a feeling that after our meeting with Shaw we’ll be on the move. It’s about time you left the nest and put all this theory and training to a final test.”
Regardless of the confidence Vetus Tribal’s words were meant to show, I felt less than ready. I would have to stay alert, learn to blend in, and embrace the new direction my life had taken. I would have to become the best Constable I could be if I ever hoped to make a lasting change in the galaxy.
I would have to evolve.
3
It was dark when we arrived at Shaw’s office. I felt oddly jittery and realized it was nerves, something somewhat foreign to me. Even when I worked with Evelyn there was always a clinical feeling to the heists. I’d been seeking a thrill before; now I wanted to attain a goal.
Malcom Shaw’s office was a permanent fixture within the Primus’ offices. He held no specific title nor was he affixed with a rank assigned to members of the Union Navy, though I speculated he specialized in recruitment and assigning acceptable missions to graduates. He was simply Mr. Shaw. His office didn’t even have an outer area or receptionist to field visitors.
It helped that the main office had an external entrance, which led directly to a series of “black” areas within the floorplan that were off limits to Tiros like myself. Unlike many of the Constables that cloaked themselves in secrecy, hid in plain sight, or were always moving, Shaw relied on the power of the unknown to shield him. Nobody knew who he was, exactly who he answered to, or what he was capable of. It was all but impossible to launch an attack on a stack of unknowns like that.
Inside, Dorian and I sat silently in Shaw’s visitor’s chairs, reminding me of the first encounter I had with the old man. Shaw watched a string of information crossing a one-way holo display on his desk. Whatever he was reviewing had him engrossed. It had been ten months since I had last seen him, or exactly three hundred and eight standard days. He had arrived on whatever business had taken him across the galaxy and promptly checked on me to ensure my training was still going smoothly. Mr. Shaw was just as adept at concealing his thoughts and intentions as Vetus Tribal, but I’d gotten a sense of urgency at the time.
I was shaken from my thoughts by Shaw’s sudden movement. I hadn’t even noticed him turn off the small holo display.
Shaw steepled his fingers and regarded me with a hooded expression.
“I understand you have been busy, Mr. Malloy. A mind like yours should never be given a chance to wander or too much time to obsess, and I worried you wouldn’t find the training… thrilling enough.” The barb, a reference to my reasoning for taking part in Evelyn’s heists, hit home. “I’m glad to hear that you’ve been putting in extra time at the Red Keep.”
Dorian grunted and leaned forward. “The kid’s been putting his talents to use in better ways than you might think.”
One side of Shaw’s mouth lifted in a knowing smile.
“I’m aware. All in all, I think Mr. Malloy has made a good start in paying back his debt.” He fixed a pointed stare on me before flicking a glance to the Vetus and continuing, “I’ve read your report from earlier tonight, Dorian. I’m glad to see you have finally agreed that Mr. Malloy is ready for his final test.”
I didn’t react, despite the revelation. For one thing, it could be a ploy, something Shaw was tossing out to gauge my ability to stay cool. If it was true, it mattered little. How much I felt like I was ready for my test had never been a factor.
Seemingly oblivious to my internal struggle, Shaw continued. “As you know, we’ve been tracking a specific shipment of neutronium across the outer rim for almost a year. The same shipment that was stolen by Evelyn Rose. Its loss has had grave repercussions to the Union’s power structure. Rose has been selling the neutronium in small amounts to criminal forces and self-styled rebel leaders. The sales have been irregular and difficult to follow. Her pattern in selecting buyers has eluded us. She seems to support no specific ideology and has passed up the highest bidder on several occasions.”
A few flicks of his wrist placed a gritty image of Evelyn on half of the holo. Even with the low quality of the picture, it was unmistakably her, down to the white coat and red hair, though that seemed to have been upgraded to a more expensive cut since I’d last seen her.
I studied the woman who had sacrificed my friend Remi, her own brother, and nearly succeeded in killing me. Despite my personal growth in the past year, I couldn’t stop the surge of anger that pulsed through me upon seeing her again, but I tamped down the emotion. The job came first now, and I couldn’t worry about petty revenge anymore.
“That was taken six days ago on the planet Din,” said Shaw.
I noticed that my Vetus didn’t look confused or ask any questions about Evelyn or the presented information. This didn’t surprise me though. It would make sense for a Vetus to be appraised of his Tiro’s past, especially when the history was as colorful as mine. Still, I felt a moment’s shame that the man I respected knew of my mistakes.
Shaw then pulled up a list of sales and locations on a large holo display that covered one of his walls.
“So far, she has made eleven sales. One roughly every thirty days, though that does not appear to be a factor.” He pointed to the first location in the diagram and it zoomed into focus. “This is Calpurnia. As you know from your studies, it is considered to be the last of the core worlds in terms of distance and time as part of the Union. General unrest has been something of a problem for the planet. Raiders comprised of the former Calpurnia Defense Fleet, or CDF, attack the planet with some frequency. This makes Calpurnia a hot zone inside of Union space.”
A schematic of the fleet and the local area appeared on the display next. “The ships of the CDF were designed specifically to deal with slingshot maneuvers to navigate through the remains of a large moon caught in the orbit of a rogue planet. The planet hit the sun, tidal forces shattered the moon, and the materials exposed became prime mining. This brought in raiders and the CDF took care of it. After the planet joined the Union, Fleet Admiral Aric Cholm took 75 percent of the fleet with him and disappeared.”
He brought up a holo of Admiral Cholm in a non-Union uniform, clearly from his CDF days. “The
first sale Evelyn made was to this man. With it, from what little intelligence we’ve gathered, he hoped to build a catastrophic device that would push the largest chunk of the split moon into a decaying orbit with Calpurnia. He issued demands calling for Union forces to leave the planet and cede all control to him.”
Shaw glanced at us to make sure we were still following along, then changed the display to a second holo of Admiral Cholm. In this one, the man’s appearance had changed drastically. He was older, as evidenced by the thick cap of grey hair and deep lines that had taken over his features. Cholm had also lost an eye at some point between the pictures and now wore an eye patch to cover the injury. The admiral’s uniform had been swapped out for prison garb.
“Constables disabled the device and retrieved the neutronium. Cholm was taken into custody and offered up information about Rose in exchange for clemency.” Shaw pulled up another planetary system and enlarged a section depicting an outpost in deep space. “That information led us to Fernall, a disused station colonial outriders built some time ago. It’s decaying and not fit for continued use, which makes it a perfect residence for criminals and dissidents. One of our agents managed to install surveillance tech and we observed a number of transactions and high-stakes auctions taking place before Evelyn’s name was mentioned.”
Stunned, I looked from Shaw to Dorian. “Are the Constables using all this information to stop the criminal activity?”
Speaking for the first time, Dorian shook his head. “Most of it is small time, kid. It would be a waste of resources and they would eventually figure out they were being surveilled.”
Realizing the wisdom of this, I nodded. “A small sacrifice for the bigger picture.”
“Exactly right, Tiro.” The Vetus looked pleased and returned his attention to Shaw and the holo that now showed an image of the shattered outpost drifting in lifeless pieces.