by Chris Hechtl
But he could just sit on it. He could use it as blackmail material. She unfortunately didn't know the sheriff that well to know if he'd go that route. The moment he used it others would know about it though, it would compromise his own safety. She put the thought aside. She had other more important things to consider.
The reporter’s involvement was clearly suspect. Her comfort with organized crime was … alarming, Sprite thought. Was it feigned or real? She wasn't certain, the camera angles didn't give her enough of an angle to see the woman's face sometimes. Was she involved deeply or just making contacts with everyone and anyone to get Intel for her stories? Her sources? She didn't know. She wasn't certain where it would lead. If it got out into the public it could be bad for the admiral. His reputation would be tarnished again.
“This is ... troubling.”
“The admiral is ignorant of this right?”
“Of course. He may suspect she has such ties, most reporters walk both sides of the street. They walk a fine line building contacts and skirting the law in order to get a juicy story. Miss O'Neill is no different I suppose. But to go to this level. … I am wondering if she is doing this for a possible story on organized crime.” Sprite asked. “No, they have a code of silence. Normally no one would talk to an outsider.”
“Which means she isn't an outsider,” Clio told her. “That worries me.”
“Me too,” Sprite said in agreement. She wasn't certain where it would lead, but she had to find out. She had to find out quickly, before things were taken out of her hands.
“Let's see what other people have to say,” Sprite thought as she opened a channel to the other AI on Antigua Prime. Most didn't know anything about Miss O'Neill other than what they could access through the net.
Mnemosyne sent her the woman's every recording while she was transmitting her news reports, hardly helpful.
She didn't want to bother the Warners, most likely neither of them knew anything of value. Her only source then was Clio. That was a problem. She decided to bite the bullet and put in a call.
“Sheriff Derrango,” she said, as the sheriff answered the call. “A pleasure to see you. I thought you weren't going to answer,” she said, playing it coy.
“Well,” he drawled, tipping his cowboy hat back. “Lil lady, for you, I'll make an exception. What can I do fur ya?” he asked.
“Well, the admiral has a friend. A lady friend ...”
“And she's in trouble? Already?”
“Sort of,” Sprite replied. She laid out the problem to the sheriff. He became very still as she explained the complication.
“I'm sorry, miss, I can't help you,” he said quietly when she finished.
“I was afraid of that. An open investigation?” She asked.
“I can't confirm or deny,” he drawled, pulling the hat rim back down to cover his eyes.
“Oooh boy,” Sprite sighed as the sheriff played with the right tip of his curly mustache. “Not good. I don't want any more scandals or problems for the admiral. I think we both know it could be used against him easily.”
“Sorry, miss,” the sheriff replied. From the analysis of his vocals, she noted he genuinely was contrite. But he was also holding firm.
“Okay then. I'll try some other contacts.”
“Best not, ma'am. Or do it discrete like. Some people hear and it could be a world of hurt for someone,” the sheriff cautioned.
“Yeah,” Sprite sighed.
“I'll have a chat with Miss Clio. She shouldn't have been gossiping in the first place,” the sheriff said.
“It was a heads up sheriff. This can fall under the heading of galactic security potentially,” Sprite said. “So don't read her the riot act. Please.”
“I'll play nice. Ya'll be having a good day and all,” the sheriff said as he terminated the connection and his image blanked.
“Lovely,” Sprite muttered. She wanted to run the problem past Fletcher, the growing intelligence and security AI, but he still had a bit of growing up to do. And the military intelligence network in the system was a joke. Only Lieutenant Lake, or the other AI. If she did discuss it with the other AI it would compromise the secret.
Well, there was one AI she could discuss it with, one who would never talk. She ran what she had past Defender for an in-depth threat assessment. “Too many variables. Based on past behavior too low to quantify. Based on new data ... unknown,” the security AI finally stated. It was an almost mechanical summary.
“Well, you're no help,” she said sarcastically.
“Unfortunately true. Get more information Commander,” Defender stated, eyes glowing red.
“I'm working on it. But a decision has to be made now. You know, you could help me. Do some digging on your own ...”
“I will keep an eye out. However active investigation would draw attention. Unwanted attention from those potentially involved, or from those watching for the admiral to have a weakness. I advise caution,” Defender stated flatly.
“Caution. Right,” Sprite said. She was not sure if the admiral could handle the distraction of the woman's presence. He needed to focus she thought. She could run sims but ... on a hunch she buried April's name in a report to him and tucked her e-mails away in his inbox, but in the low priority one. Not the spam filter, she'd never get away with that, but in the folder he rarely accessed since it came under the heading of fan mail. He was not eager to talk to reporters anyway she reasoned. It wasn't a perfect solution, or even a solution at all for that matter. But it was the best she could do. She filed what Clio had told her as well as the sheriff and Defender's report and then went on to other work.
Chapter 20
Eight hours after they arrived in orbit the admiral took the pinnace to Antigua Prime. He was dressed in his best day uniform. Cookie had suggested he go in his formal white uniform but he had declined. He wanted to make a good impression, but he didn't want to overdo it either. He was to meet with a station delegation and governor Jeff Randall to begin the initial talks. As he approached the council chambers he caught sight of familiar red hair in the crowd. His eyes narrowed as his sensors focused on the woman. He was a bit shocked to see April hovering there before him, in the reporter's bull pen station security had set up near their council room. April flashed him a coy smile and sent him an e-mail direct to his implants while blowing him a kiss. Before he could respond the crowd seemed to swell and swallow her up as other reporters jockeyed to get the best coverage of the event.
“Commander ...” the admiral said tightly, moving to the side behind a structural pillar to gain a small amount of privacy. He opened the file and scanned it briefly. It was a short note, short and sweet. Apparently April had been trying to get in touch with him since he'd arrived. “Care to explain, Commander?” he said under his breath, voice straining against his temper.
“Um, you said no distractions. I thought it would be best to wait until after this critical meeting before I brought it up,” she said meekly.
“You thought?” he demanded, eyes snapping as he straightened.
“Admiral, this is exactly what I feared. You are now mentally off balance, angry, and about to go into a critical meeting,” Sprite said.
“You don't need to tell me that,” he said through gritted teeth. “What you should have done is tell me she was here. Give me her e-mails and that way it wouldn't have come as a last minute surprise,” he growled as he chastened the AI.
“Admiral, I admit I made an error. I have my reasons though, I was going to bring it to your attention. If you wish, I'll lay them out for you here and now in my defense,” she said. “But I believe this isn't the time,” she said, pointing to the plot feed on his HUD. Involuntarily his eyes cut to it. She highlighted the security detachment around the governor and arriving dignitaries.
“We'll discuss it later,” he growled under his breath. He tugged on his hem and flexed his shoulders and jaw, trying to get his roaring temper under control.
“Yes sir,” she said qu
ietly. She knew she was in the doghouse. She also judged she'd been in error several times over this unfortunate incident. Had she brought it to his attention he would have been more open to her reasoning. Now he would be prejudiced against it since it would seem like she was covering for herself. Not good she thought.
He caught sight of Governor Randall with his wife Sandra. Behind them was an entourage of people. The governor's outfit was subtly more modern, not hand stitched, it was instead machine stitched and cut in a more modern style of business suit. It still has echoes of Antigua's men's formal wear but with a more modern flare.
Irons noted many of the men and women also sported the changed outfits. Of course it wasn't a representation of their civilization as a whole, they were of course the upper crust so they had to have the best and had the money to get it. They also had ready access to the new textile mills and their products. But it was interesting that things were changing.
Sprite had caught some of the news reports and gave him a sampling. When news broke of his return the people had been wildly ecstatic. Not just over the ships he'd brought along with him, but his return. Him, John Henry Irons Fleet Admiral. That was a little humbling in a way; it told him he had a lot of expectations to live up to.
He'd seen the images of the craters on the planet. The pirates hadn't gotten past the defenses over the main continent but the others near the edge of the planetary defensive system had fared poorly. Dozens of cities and small towns had been shattered; many had little or no warning it had been coming.
Those that did get warning and did manage an evacuation were left with what they had on hand. The generosity and support from the planetary and space community had invigorated many to come out of their depression and begin the long hard road of recovery and rebuilding.
Hopefully if all things worked out they might be able to help them out there. Hopefully, he thought nodding to the gentlemen and ladies in the room. A lot was riding on this meeting he realized. From the bio readings of a few of the staffers, they seemed nervous and intent. Apparently they too realized a lot was riding on this and were fully aware how badly things could go with one misplaced word or sarcastic comment.
He reminded himself firmly to keep a lid on his temper no matter how badly things went. Though he was cautiously hopeful and optimistic.
The admiral seemed to be not the only one who was cautiously optimistic on how it will go, judging from the expressions and body language of the various delegates. Everyone seemed nervous and excited.
It was amusing to see the governor had a delegation. He could have brought along subordinates, but he'd refrained. He'd also been tempted to let Miss Yuzle and the other planetary delegates in on the initial discussion but he thought they needed to have a discussion to clear the air first.
The message Sprite had picked up through the back channels was that the governor had said he was willing to deal. That was good.
Admiral Irons studied the staffers as he waited politely on “his” side of the table. His first impressions were that of amusement for the staffers. They seemed to hover about, obviously confused by his lack of similar hanger ons and minions. That was too bad for them.
He had one supporter, Commander Sprite. She was in holographic form talking small talk softly to Mnemosyne and Urania. Most likely their conversation was happening on levels too fast for humans to follow, as data flowed between the AI.
Technically the Warners were neutral, though he knew they were in his corner. So was Lieutenant Fu. She had surprised him by appearing in a conservative business suit of white. It was tailored to look a lot like a naval uniform. She seemed amused by some of the looks she was getting from the crowd. Her holographic avatar passed through a couple of staffers talking to her with their backs turned. She seemed like a ghost, passing through them but startling them. The admiral hid a small smile of amusement over their discomfort.
The admiral pulled up the outline of his plan once more to review it while the group posed for photos outside, or gave brief interviews. They had to play politics, play the publicity game. That was fine, but he was here to work he though, one knuckle tapping on the table gently. It all was all about support, what they were willing to pay for what needed to be done. Money, manpower, equipment, material. What each side needed and wanted from the other. They of course would want to minimize their outlay, they had other commitments. He understood that. He also understood the desire to not want to raise taxes.
But they had to understand something. It boiled down to how much of a price they put on their safety and freedom. He had to find a way to get that point across without sounding like an overbearing ass he thought.
The staffers were hanger ons. People to fetch and carry, take notes, speech writers, the usual. He was gratified to see a mix of species and genders. He nodded to them in passing but he didn't really pay attention to them. The lieutenant governor wasn't present yet, she was still out milking the crowd. He wondered if she was setting herself up to run against her boss during the next election cycle.
The cybers hadn't aged except their eyes and bearing. Yan Fu seemed particularly old the admiral noted. Something in him had been crushed; he wasn't moving with his usual grace and animation, just standing quietly to one side of the others. It was like his sun had started to eclipse with age and the others knew it. It was not quite snuffed out, but his interference was gone. So was his lackey, Kenneth something or other, the admiral noted. Most likely the realization that the pirates weren't a pipe dream and that the threat wasn't going to go away had awoken the old man. The realization that he still needed people like Irons probably sucked the admiral thought, fighting to keep a straight face.
Then again, it might have been his wife, the wolf in sheep's clothing, the admiral thought, his eyes turning thoughtfully to Hishina once more. He nodded to her when she noted his attention. She nodded politely back. He turned his attention to others in the room, then focused on the one man who truly mattered.
The governor had grown into role but there is a weight there, almost one you could see on his young shoulders. He had matured, the admiral judged in approval. Some of the spark of idealism was still there, but it was tempered with the realization that the world worked by its own rules.
Still, he bared the mantle of authority well though, the admiral thought, again in approval. He shook his head slightly at his train of thought. He should stop being so surprised by the man. He kept measuring him up to his past performance and Governor Walker as well as politicians the admiral had met in the past. If he kept that cynicism up they'd never get anywhere. They had to have some element of trust or ... his lips twitched in a not quite smile. The threat of a hanging had a good way of concentrating one's thoughts, he thought. And if they didn't “hang together” they would most assuredly hang separately.
Sandra the governor's wife was absent. Apparently she had taken herself off to do a bit of early holiday shopping after giving her husband a peck on the cheek and a warning to behave. The admiral had caught it but hadn't understood what it meant until she had departed.
The admiral had heard the young man had done a good job with the pirate invasion and its aftermath. He seemed to need more sleep though from the slack look around his eyes. He had a few more wrinkles from stress too, a few more gray hairs, but otherwise he was doing well. The admiral nodded in approval as the governor shook his hand. “Admiral, let's get started shall we?”
“Let's," the admiral said as the governor indicated they should take a seat.
...*...*...*...*...
“So, are we going to get to work or not?” Lieutenant Commander Tra’jeki demanded, clacking his mandibles and signaling second level emphasis.
“Why, you in a hurry, Commander?” Water's Brightly asked. The elf was a first lieutenant and old classmate of the Veraxin commander. Both had gone to school as the first midshipman class at Anvil College back in the days just after the battle of Pyrax. While she had gone on to bounce around the picket ships he'd dodged
ship duty to play in the yard. They run into each other there before they'd both been transferred to different fortresses, he to oversee the construction of their electronics, her to run their sensors and set up their electronic fire control.
“Just eager to get started. Up until a while ago I thought we were going to be stuck in another fortress trying to carve it out and then figure out what to stick in it.”
“I know,” the elf said.
“Did you get a yard assignment or fortress again?” the Veraxin asked.
The elf shrugged. “I have no idea. They said they'd tell me when I got here. Apparently it was all up in the air.”
“Ah. I thought maybe you received an e-mail,” the Veraxin said.
“Nope. You?”
“No.”
“Damn.”
“I'm not sure the powers that be know what's going on. It's up to the admiral and the politicians right now,” the Veraxin said.
“Great,” the elf drawled.
“Well, good news folks, we're going to be moving some of you to the yard, and the rest of you are going to be on infrastructure or ship repair duties until the admiral pulls the trigger,” the XO said, coming into the passenger compartment.
“If it gets us off this transport I'm all for it,” the elf said, hopping out of her tiny hammock to the deck.
“Agreed,” the commander said. He was a commander, he thought that the higher ranks would get their own quarters. Apparently this “cattle call” as the OPS officer had called it meant everyone got packed into the ships with no regard for rank or training. He couldn't wait to get out and away from the crew. To see space once more. He loved the black.
“Be seeing you?” the elf asked as she finished packing.
“Not if I don't see you first. Probably as I'm scraping you off my leg,” the Veraxin said, indicating third level humor.
“Very funny,” the elf drawled as she departed.