by Chris Hechtl
Commander Garretaj indicated the canister. The tech moved in beside him. “We'll need to secure the database along with the antimatter. You take care of this; I'll get the data.”
“Yes, sir,” CPO Hart replied dutifully. He immediately moved in to undo the straps. “Is it really that dangerous?” the CPO asked carefully as he unbuckled the first strap. “Seems like a lot of going on for such a tiny thing.”
Commander Saul Garretaj frowned then shrugged. The news would get out eventually. “Sometimes good things come in small packages. In this case … it's both. Yes, it is that dangerous in the wrong hands or if mishandled. Treat it like a very fragile nuclear bomb. Got it?”
Chief Hart nodded in sudden respect. “I'm an ordinance tech, sir. Now I understand why you didn't have a fuel tech or power room tech on this.”
“Good man. Get it done,” the commander said as he rested a hand on the chief's shoulder briefly.
“Aye aye, sir. We'll see it through to the end.”
“Good. You two stay with him until the delivery is complete. If it goes off track, a squad will be all over you in a moment and your careers are toast. Get it done.”
“Yes, sir!” Corporal V'rr stated.
“Now, Captain, I know your A.I. is transmitting the basic data, but I understand you've got other data in your banks. Commander Teague didn't have anyone available so I've been tasked with getting that download as well,” the commander said, pulling out an oversized flash chip out from his breast pocket. “Lead the way.”
“Aye aye, sir. My crew?”
“They get the usual liberty as soon as I'm out of your hair,” the commander said, indicating they should get moving.
The captain nodded. “Yes sir, they'll appreciate it,” he said. “This way,” he said, pointing to the ship's databanks.
:::{)(}:::
Admiral Yorgi Sienkov stared out the viewing window as the freighter delicately maneuvered on her final approach to the dock. Tugs were nearby, hard on her flanks like sheep dogs herding their massive charge to where she needed to be without any sort of incident.
That was the plan he thought. “Impressive that he's gotten so much done here so quickly,” he said. He'd taken a long hard look at the naval complex and the shipyards. He couldn't help but measure their progress against Bek's.
“He's had help,” Moira Sema, said with a smile as she came into the compartment. She checked him over with a critical eye.
“Well, do I pass?” he teased.
She came over, rolling her hips as she moved, and then touched his lapel. She made a few minor adjustments, stroked a few seams then nodded as her eyes met his. “You're good.”
“Glad that's over with,” he said gruffly. She lingered near him, letting him drink in her scent before she smiled and took a step back. “And may I say you look positively ravishing?” he said with a grin.
“Something along those lines. I was trying to split the difference between drop-dead gorgeous and professional actually,” Moira preened.
“Well, you got both,” he replied wryly. If he was a few decades younger rolled through his mind briefly before he squashed it. It wasn't like age mattered, not anymore. They may not have started with the anti-geriatric treatments but the treatments they'd picked up in Pyrax had done wonders for him. He could only imagine what they were doing to the population back home.
“I think … I'm impressed on one hand but disappointed on another,” Moira said as she eyed the window.
“Both? Again?” the admiral demanded.
“Yes well, I thought he'd do more,” she said. “And I think they should really paint that station something brighter than battleship gray!” She shook her long blue and purple hair. “I mean, honestly! A nice rose red maybe …”
That got the admiral chuckling. She gave him a mock glower, but he wasn't looking at her.
She pursed her lips. It was just as well, she thought, returning her thoughts to normal. A nice bit of levity to break up the tension was good. But she needed to put her best foot forward; they all did.
This was a new stage, a new untested audience. One they had to make the best impression with. Humble, eager to get started, yet poised and ready to lead.
:::{)(}:::
Admiral Irons read the report that the antimatter container that had been found on Epsilon Triangula just prior to the invasion was in Pyrax and under lock and key. He felt a profound sense of relief. He looked up and frowned as a much anticipated ship delicately made dock. That was one less headache he had to worry about he thought. Some in his administration might have thought paying the kids with a shuttle and replicator had been excessive, but he'd backed the Lieutenant Thornson's play. The man had been the one on the spot, and he'd made the right call. And he'd done well keeping it out of the hands of the enemy when the Horathians had hit ET. He made a note for the lieutenant to receive something nice in his next promotion.
Then his thoughts returned to the real matter at hand, the Bek delegation. He was still having trouble believing they'd gone to such great lengths after he'd left to continue his initial investment. That ancient mobile shipyard had paid great dividends apparently. He was proud of their ancestor's achievement—of their achievements.
And they were only just getting started. Of that, he was certain now. Let loose out into the galaxy once more … it might never be the same. At least, he hoped so. He was done wallowing in self-pity, and he hoped people were done trying to scratch an existence out with their bare hands and settling for what they could.
Long, long ago people used to try harder. May your reach ever exceed your grasp. To make a better world for their children who would come after them … he frowned then opened a text file and tossed the words into it. He'd let someone else clean it up but maybe the sentiment, perhaps oversappy, but considering the source who cared, but maybe it'd get through and spark some more people to stand up and get busy.
His thoughts returned to Bek as he watched the unloading through the video feed. He'd nationalized the mobile shipyard; most of the crew had stayed on. The ship had been dispatched by Lagroose Corporation to rebuild the colonial liner that had become stranded in the star system.
His lips pursed in memory. His nationalizing it hadn't gone over well with some. Those who had left—some called it jumped ship—they'd taken the liner back to “civilized space.” The entire helm and navigational team had gone as well as anyone who'd had family back in the federation. He wondered briefly how many of them had survived? And how many had regretted the decision not to stay where it was safe?
If it had been him, would he have stayed? Easy answer, no, he would have followed his orders. He wouldn't have ignored his duty to find a way to stop the marauding aliens, to protect those he could.
Admiral Irons smiled indulgently as the Bekians paused to be photographed by the media. A few stopped to answer questions, but the aides did their best to steer them on. A smooth public affairs flack stepped in to answer any questions when and where possible. They still had some hoopla to go through before they got to him. That was fine. He smiled indulgently, ready and eager for someone else to have the spotlight so he could get a little more work done.
:::{)(}:::
Moira was a bit put out by the situation despite the hoopla surrounding their arrival. She couldn't put a finger on why initially, but then it came to her. She was disappointed that Admiral Irons wasn't on hand to greet them the moment the ship had reached port. She did her best to look around surreptitiously after a third introduction to a local delegate. They really should have done some sort of reception line or something she thought, wondering how long the hand shaking would go on. Name tags would have been nice, she groused mentally. She was still getting used to her implants. Her civilian implants, she reminded herself. The last guy had damn near broken her hand. “What's wrong?” Yorgi asked softly, noting her occasional darting eyes.
“Nothing, why do you ask?” she asked back, equally soft as she went back to business as usual be
havior.
“You're looking around. I can tell,” he said with a soft smile. He wouldn't put it past the woman to try to go after Irons right off. He wasn't certain what her game was, political power on the big stage or power of a different sort. She had ambitions; of that he was certain. Nothing wrong with it as long as she tempered it with reality and didn't let them get out of hand to the point where they caused damage somehow.
“I thought he'd greet us,” she finally admitted in an aside.
“He's busy. And from what I understand, he doesn't like the spotlight much,” the elderly admiral replied as he nodded to his flag lieutenant. “We'll continue, Elvis,” he said simply.
“Aye aye, sir,” The Neochimp flag lieutenant replied as he waved a hand to indicate the direction they were to travel. He paused when a Veraxin public affairs assistant escorted another pair of delegates to greet them. “Besides, he wants us to have our moment to shine.”
“Oh, very well,” Moira said.
:::{)(}:::
Admiral Irons got the news report of the protests on ET just as the Bek delegation arrived in the outer foyer to the wardroom reserved to greet them. He knew Jeff was there to represent more than Antigua, but for the moment he did his best to project an air of assurance and not bother with comfort.
He knew that a lot of people were intimidated by the Bekians. Not just of their industrial might, but also of their population and power base. It was going to be a profound change for all concerned; the Bek Republic was larger than the entire federation's population. At least, for the moment he reminded himself.
“Ladies, gentlemen. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. I hope you are ready to roll up your sleeves and dive into work as soon as this is done,” the admiral said, shaking hands. He gauged their mood quickly as he shook hands and exchanged salutes with the leaders and then even went so far as to shake the hands of the flag lieutenants and staff. Everyone seemed floored to shake the hand of the fleet admiral it seemed.
Admiral Irons hid his amusement slightly as he finished up with a Neochimp trying hard not to grin in excess at shaking the hand of what all believed was a living legend. Kids these days, the admiral thought as he returned to center stage.
“May I present Governor Randall?” he asked, politely indicating the Star System governor. “He's been a trooper and a rock in getting the government set up and on track. Well, mostly on track,” the admiral admitted.
Jeff snorted. “We're getting there, Mister President,” he replied as he shook hands.
:::{)(}:::
Admiral Irons and his staff had partial dossiers of each of the Bekians of course. The dossiers were augmented by information that had arrived by courier a week prior to the convoy's arrival. There was fresh data in the convoy's data archives, but the admiral had little time to pursue it.
Sprite on the other hand had done so, absorbing what information she could as quickly as any A.I. with her capabilities naturally did. She set script bots loose on the data to pick out what she needed or wanted to know. But something immediately stood out. Something that bothered her about Moira Sema, the woman who wanted to be secretary of state.
As her avatar stood there in holographic form, she continued to process the information her script bots and spiders brought to her. When she realized what it was that bothered, her she immediately flagged ONI and set up a time period to have an important conversation with Admiral Irons at the earliest.
:::{)(}:::
“We're here to welcome another member, several members to return to the federation. It has been a long time coming.”
“It is definitely about time, sir,” Admiral Sienkov said just loud enough for the admiral to hear.
He turned and smiled to the other flag officer. “Most definitely, Admiral,” Admiral Irons said. He turned back to their audience both physically in the room and those watching through the cameras recording the event.
“As some of you know, I was sent out to establish redoubts, out of the way places for a kernel of civilization to survive and hopefully flourish. Those seeds were spread in the various sectors; I imagine other officers did the same. At least I hope so at any rate,” he said with a polite smile. “But our friends have grown into a mighty cornucopia tree. A strong mighty tree that will help sow the seeds of its own democracy throughout the sector and eventually beyond and throughout the galaxy,” the admiral said. He glanced over to Miss Sema. She looked very familiar. Oddly familiar. He wasn't certain why.
“Their ancestors took the seeds I presented, gathered more of their own, and through their own blood, sweat and tears built a mighty republic. One that will hopefully stand the test of time and the trials to come.” He surveyed the audience. “They are a model, one I hope to replicate here and elsewhere. They, like Antigua, will help show others the way, be the light in the long void that they'd almost forgotten about.”
He smiled. “It's time to get to work thanking them for joining us and then get down to business folks,” he said simply.
Governor Randall couldn't help it, he chuckled. That sparked a general laugh from the audience and delegation. “Admiral Irons is a bit of a party pooper,” he said, taking charge of the meeting as John stepped back and conceded the stage. “I should know; he frequently dumps such onerous duties on me and my lovely wife,” he said scowling with mock disapproval. “Now, I love a good party, but even I like to work,” he said. That earned another laugh as he got to the lectern. “Tonight we'll have a welcoming ball for our new brothers and sisters. Tomorrow you can put their noses to the grindstone, Admiral,” he said shaking a finger at Irons.
The admiral shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said with a small smile as the audience clapped at the byplay.
Chapter 5
The following morning ONI dumped a report into the admiral's inbox. He picked it up and scanned it as he ate breakfast. Cookie liked a heavy breakfast of waffles or pancakes when he skipped her meals, but he held off on just digging in. It wasn't like he'd feel fat and bloated. His nanites and metabolism would see to that, but he didn't want to encourage the woman.
He shook his head as he scanned the report. He frowned at the red flag. Apparently the secretary of state to be's background check had revealed an ambiguous history. Sprite was involved apparently; she'd been the one to flag the issue.
They'd damn well better get a handle on it; he wanted her to sail through the Senate hearings as quickly as possible. They had a lot of work ahead of themselves. He didn't need any hang ups nor any ticking time bombs or other things that could potentially blow up in his face.
He wasn't certain why she'd signed on as secretary of state and not the VP. Could she be building up her diplomatic credentials? Maybe even shaping her career long term for a shot at his seat? Anything was possible. Jeff would need to be wary of a potential rival or running mate, he thought.
Sprite spent the evening delving into the personal history of Moira Sema, her mother, her aunts and uncles, and her grandmother. She built the best profile she had of the woman and her history as well as the sketchy history of her grandmother.
She considered leaking the information to the Senate hearing committees but realized Admiral Irons and others might never forgive her if she did. She'd be doing her duty but perhaps in excess. But she had to know. It wasn't just the itch every A.I. faced when they ran into a puzzle they had a hard time solving. No, this was important. A potential threat that had to be resolved one way or another.
Miss Sema took on a staff and aide when she started the hearing and interview process. Admiral Irons had signed off on her alarmingly fast, not even interviewing the woman personally for the job. It bothered Sprite. She knew the man was busy, but …
Innocently she allowed her aide to upload her history of service and her family history on the web. Sprite devoured it alongside the other A.I. and the bots the organics in the media used for their stories.
Along the way the aide uploaded an image of Moira's grandmother. It wasn't young and in her
twenties, but it was enough for Sprite to run a series of filters she picked up from her intelligence contacts to reverse the aging process. When the final product was in her twenties, she dumped it into another program. Facial recognition got a hit on her clone Meia files within a minute. She ran the facial recognition on the secretary to be and found a close familial match.
Since the woman was applying for a critically important government job, she had to supply her DNA. Part of the reason was for security reasons. Sprite used her authority to check the DNA file with what she had gathered and from what limited material Captain Thornby had authorized for release. She had an almost perfect match.
By 1100 she was ready to present her findings to the intelligence meeting at lunch. Admiral Sienkov was on hand, it being his first meeting. The vice admiral hadn't finished his hearings, but Admiral Irons had insisted he start the process anyway, at least initially as an observer.
“I see you slotted some time on the agenda, Commander. You have the floor,” Admiral Irons said to Sprite.
“Thank you, sir.” Sprite ran through her findings in a brief presentation. As she did so, she studied the organics in the room for signs of how their thinking was trending. Protector had given her a tap into Admiral Irons' vital signs, so she knew he wasn't happy.
“I've run her DNA against the samples I've got on file and the partial ones Doctor Thornby has given me. My next step is to run it past her and see what she says. Unfortunately, she hasn't answered my messages.”
“I can vouch for Moira, Commander,” Admiral Sienkov said quietly. “I've known her since she has been born, her mother almost as long, and I knew her grandmother briefly when I was a cadet. I'll admit, only in passing. They are all remarkable women. They also have a deep sense of duty and are not traitors, Commander,” he stated.
“I'd like to run DNA checks of other people in our population to see if we have familial matches or more clones,” Sprite said, “and then monitor them long term.”