by Chris Hechtl
Cheap, yes, but damn slow, the admiral thought with a shake of his head. Time sensitive cargo need not apply, nor people.
The admiral snorted at the track of his thoughts as well as what inspired them. Apparently word was indeed getting around that the navy was doing free safety inspections and minor repairs. But it was being blown out of proportion and some elements were now treating a courtesy as a right. He made a note to have a chat with Liobat over at public affairs about straightening out those perceptions. The Neolioness had taken over the public affairs department from Sprite … not that the commander didn't continue to dabble and stick her nose in occasionally to “help out.”
So, the lioness occasionally didn't quite complain but pointedly hinted that such help was unwanted.
Hard on the heels of Pelican's arrival were a series of requests coming in to explore new markets in the neighboring sectors. It meant the various corporations wanted to exploit their neighbors in other sectors—but only when the shipping was there—and the shippers wouldn't go unless it was safe to do so, which meant the navy needed to make it safe. And of course they had to find a way to pay for it all while fighting a war on the opposite front.
There was something wrong with sending badly-needed personnel and ships in the opposite direction from the front. Apparently no one had heard the ancient saying “march to the sound of the guns.”
Irons pursed his lips in humor. Or they knew there was no sound in space. Whatever, he thought. It was indeed the navy's job to make space safe or at least as safe as they could make it. He'd find a way.
His current tentative plan involved Prometheus and a revamped task force. He knew Phil wouldn't be thrilled about losing the production capacity the ship represented, but it was past time to do something about Tau sector.
He'd put the request from the Airea 3 delegates for a naval base in their star system off for a while longer. That one was going to be hotly debated as well. Perhaps he could combine both? Two birds with one stone? Have her stage from Airea 3 initially then move in to the sector when they found a better, more central star system to work from? It was possible, he thought. And she could work on some of the defenses in Airea 3 and their infrastructure while the scouts were at work during the first phase. He nodded and made a note to explore that plan in-depth further.
“Admiral Sienkov is here for his ten o'clock, sir,” Protector stated from the holographic image projector built into the admiral's desk.
The admiral looked up. “Have Yeoman Lajoy show him in.”
He rose when the admiral entered. He smiled briefly as the admiral came to attention, and then waved the man to take a seat. “Coffee?”
“Pass for the moment,” the admiral said, waving a hand and jutting his bottom lip out a little.
The admiral could see the other flag officer was slightly agitated. “That'll do, Uma, thank you. Tell Cookie to come by with a pot in an hour,” he said, waving a dismissive hand airily.
“Aye aye, Admiral,” the yeoman replied dutifully. She knew the admiral practically ran on the black stuff. Any other sophonts would have had their guts tied up by so much caffeine. It didn't seem to bother the admiral in the slightest, though he did occasionally ask for a minor change. Silently she departed, closing the hatch behind her.
“Okay, Yorgi, what's this about?” Admiral Irons asked politely. He still had a lot of ground to cover to be familiar with the man, but part of that was dropping the titles and working from a common ground. They both knew they weren't remotely equals, but it helped break down some of the barriers and encourage candid conversation. He knew that the Bekian admiral had arranged some social time with his staff including Monty in an initial attempt to break the ice. It seemed to have worked to some degree, he was fitting in far better than the fleet admiral had expected.
There was something to be said about round pegs in round holes he thought with a slight trace of satisfaction.
“I've been trying to figure out a way to deal with this issue. I've been dancing around how to approach you all the way here from my office. But if I've learned anything from you, it's that you don't beat around the bush, and you like it straight. So, here goes,” Admiral Sienkov said.
“That sounds ominous.”
“And a bit confrontational I admit. Just remember I'm doing my duty here,” the other man said. “I know about Miss O'Neill.”
The admiral frowned. From his expression he wasn't sure of what to make of that statement.
“I'm talking about more than her public relationship to you, Admiral. I'm talking about her security threat. I accessed the file and read it.” He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. “Several times actually.”
“I see.” John thought hard and fast. He could well imagine who had sicked Yorgi on him. He felt a brief spat of disappointment at Monty's involvement but dampened it down. What he needed to focus on was how to handle the current conversation. It could go bad very quickly if he didn't keep a lid on his temper.
“I did some digging. I admit, I was curious. I don't understand why you didn't draw attention to her in my in briefs. She is a serious security risk. I'm baffled as to why you are not willing to take her down. I'm hoping sentiment and emotions aren't playing a part in this.”
“They aren't,” the admiral said.
“And that bit about her being tagged to watch you to protect you? You know that's bullshit.”
“I don't know. That's just it; I don't know much of anything as far as her motives. I don't know if they used that to get her to comply or if it is true or not.”
“Still …”
“She's a known source. I've got her partially cocooned. Since she is so close to me, the theory is they won't attempt to insert others. That's the theory anyway,” Admiral Irons explained.
Admiral Sienkov sat back and raised an eyebrow in polite disbelief. “And the reality, sir?”
“That part we're not certain of. I believe Monty is running down potential leaks. Most are to reporters or family. It's hard to weed the sheep from the goats.”
“I see.”
“Not really. At least not totally,” the admiral stated. The other flag officer frowned. “Yorgi, I don't know if Bek and Nuevo are clean of the guilds. They are ancient; you know that.” The other man nodded slowly. “I don't know how far the rot goes and who I can trust. I have to keep the circle small. Secrets stay secret if you don't spill them.” Admiral Sienkov nodded. “And I like to play some cards close to my chest.”
“Well, I thank you for trusting me,” Admiral Sienkov replied. “You obviously do or you would have shut me down—the same for Captain Montgomery.”
“She's cocooned as I said, but I'm not going to flip her nor are we going to feed her disinformation; she's too valuable as she is to do that.”
“You're using her. You know she's dead if she's caught.” Admiral Sienkov stared into his eyes.
The admiral nodded grimly. “I know. She took the job knowing what it entailed. What the eventual end game was if she got caught. That's on her. I know she made sacrifices, and hell, she caused a few deaths.”
“But it will haunt you?”
“Yes. But I've got a resilient soul; I'll endure over time. The important thing to remember is they are for one reason or another actively protecting me.”
The Bekian admiral blinked in consternation at him. John smiled slightly. “You should see your face. That's right, actively protecting me. I am not sure why.” He shrugged. “I'm not taking it for granted though. Monty is still keeping an eye on her pipeline and we're tracing it.”
“In order to sweep them up?”
“Only if we have to do so. No, we keep it contained, feed them knowledge we don't mind or want them to have. No disinformation if we can help it. As long as they have a source inside my inner circle they won't try to suborn another. At least that's a hope.”
“You said other reasons, sir?”
“That was another reason right there—counter spy trade craft 101. It'
s even in the manual. But I also want them all. If we can build a case on someone outside of what we know, we'll do it.”
“So you do know something about the craft. Interesting.”
Admiral Irons snorted. “I didn't get to where I was now with these stars,” he indicated the stars on his hat, “without learning a thing or two. I'm not totally naive nor a boy scout.”
“I see, sir. Sorry I doubted you.”
“It just pays for me to look the part from time to time. And if I can get someone who can do the job …” he indicated Yorgi, “Then I can delegate it and not worry about it.”
“I see. Thank you. Sorry again for hitting a nerve.”
“Forgiven. Let's move on.”
“Aye aye, Admiral. You're the boss.”
“Unfortunately, yes, and I'm aware I have some blinders where April is concerned, which is why you are going to keep an eye on her. But,” he held up a finger, “from a distance. I log every conversation I have with her. We are watching her to the limits the law allows. Getting a warrant to do an in-depth watch would be politically dangerous.”
“I understand.”
“I know what I know because I used … less than legal means to acquire the basic information. From that framework Monty and Lake were able to fill in the pieces. But that first method is still there, like the sword of Damocles, ready to destroy any case we bring against her and potentially destroy a lot of credibility we're trying to build with the public at this critical time.”
“I see, sir,” the intelligence secretary said with a nod. “Talk about a complicated situation!”
“Yes. So, moving on …”
“I had a few other subjects but I blocked out everything on the Miss O'Neill case. I honestly hadn't gotten into other things so I'm sorry, I'm not as prepared as I'd like to be.”
“Work on that. You can access those files in your implants, Yorgi,” the admiral said with a slight smile. It faded quickly. “I do have something on my own agenda. I want to move forward with a promotion's board. That includes a proper captain's, and flag board.” He frowned. “I know you have enough on your plate as it is and this is a bit sudden, but I want to lay the groundwork now. We need to move people up. Some are past due.” He frowned. “I wanted to feel you out about the subject and hear your thoughts,” he indicated the admiral.
When John wound down, Admiral Sienkov nodded sagely. “You want to promote your people. Understandable.”
Admiral Irons flicked a glance directly into his eyes. “My people are the entire federation. I'm talking filling vacancies in the command chain.”
“And opening up holes for my people to fill,” Admiral Sienkov replied with a nod.
“No, integrating them. They are my people too I meant,” Admiral Irons stated. “I'm admittedly still getting a feel for you, your skillsets, and the same for the other officers who came with you. Everyone who comes out of Bek is going to be playing catch-up for a while. I know you are trained in the basics but have blind spots. Welcome to the club. But you have centuries of institution behind you and numbers. Everyone who comes out of Bek and Nuevo are going to have to go through basic retraining, if only to get them up to speed with their implants and the new tech.” He didn't bother to mention the tactical and strategic changes that came with the new tech and also with starflight. “At least until Horatio gets things situated and up to speed on his end with the officers and noncoms in Bek.” He waved a hand. “But that may take years before we really see a difference in the end product.”
“You were about to say your people,” Admiral Sienkov teased with a sympathetic smile. “I know; I get it. We'll work it out.”
The fleet Admiral nodded. “Good.”
“I know you aren't thrilled about throwing people into a combat situation, one on a playing field they have only trained on in theory, without knowing them and how they'll handle it. Got that.”
“I'm doing that now with the people we've got in the field,” Admiral Irons sighed. “I take what I can get and try to raise more. That's all we can do.”
“Good enough.”
Chapter 7
On Monday, ten days after the arrival of the Bekian delegation, the admiral held his weekly cabinet briefing. It was a morning affair as usual and to some a new, novel experience. Admiral Sienkov had been one of the first Bekian's confirmed so he'd already had his first taste of high level briefings, and of course he'd had his share in Bek.
Miss Sema had a little rougher transition to get through her hearings. There hadn't been any other candidates for the job but that hadn't meant some wanted her for it. It had taken a bit of work to gather a coalition to get the woman the support from the sector and galactic Congress. Admiral Irons had done some backroom help for her, but she'd been an able strategist and taken the lead on her own confirmation strategy. He wondered if the final grudging stamp of approval was an olive branch or if she'd done some arm twisting or offered markers to be called in at a later date.
Hopefully a little of all three but not too much of any one of them.
One of the first things on the agenda was the southern sector trade. It was discussed in light terms, along with the rebuilding on ET and Centennial. Privately, Irons thought ET was well past the point of needing emergency supplies and beyond the need for federal aid. They were milking the situation as much as possible. The protests at Prometheus's departure were overblown. They did point to the feelings of being abandoned, but they had to know they needed to stand on their own two feet eventually.
But trying to tell the delegates, representatives and senators of ET as well as Governor Tweed, that was a nonstarter. And since they still didn't have an interior secretary who would normally handle the problem, it fell on the admiral and the cabinet to find a fix.
The recent events in Protodon had already made his administration shift emergency resources that way again as well as to Centennial. The ET delegates could be as bitter as they wanted, but in the public's eye, their plight was old news. “We need to finish the shift over and have ET stand on their own two feet,” Doctor Kraft stated. “I talked with Doctor Richards. She said the medical issues have long tapered off, and the money that was supposed to be allocated for it has been sequestered.”
“She probably only got a percentage of it. A small percentage, enough to keep her if not content at least from asking where the rest went if she knew what was good for her. The rest went down a rabbit hole in a bunch of shell companies. It'll take the IG office months or years to dig it all out, if ever,” D'red stated.
“True,” Sprite said. “And we're already getting pressure to drop the investigation.”
“Not going to happen,” the Veraxin attorney general clacked. “It sets a bad precedence. But I concur; we need to shut off the source.”
“Some are going to complain about it,” Admiral Sienkov warned. Moira nodded.
“Let them. Point out the images of what happened there. It is more recent so in the collective psyche of the public. It is time to move on and for ET to stand again on its own feet. We're well beyond rebuilding as is and into improvements that the Federal government shouldn't be on the hook for. We've only got so much in the budget.” He indicated a spreadsheet. “We're denying half the requests that we get. And some are the same requests from dummy corps or for things that they could do on their own with their own resources. Done.”
Bengali, the Neo white tiger in charge of the Housing Department, nodded. “Yes, sir. Corruption, especially with the mob ties to construction and the unions is an issue.”
“Then more reason to cut off the milk to that teat and focus on something else,” Admiral Sienkov stated blandly as he took a sip of his coffee.
That caustic comment sparked a sputter of surprised laughter, some smothered.
“Airea 3 is doing a booming export business exporting natural rubber products. We're considering a tariff to help pay the budget.”
“Considering?”
“It's been hit on by the Congress.
People aren't happy about the government horning in for a cut.”
“Right,” the admiral drawled. “Too much of a good thing. They'll pass the costs on to the consumer.”
“There is that as well,” T'rel'n, the Veraxin treasurer stated.
The admiral nodded. He'd read the thumbnail brief like the rest of the cabinet. Airea 3 had two continents that were tropical climates right on the equator. They were hot houses, and therefore, rubber plantations were spread all over the place. They fed latex to mills in the north and south who processed the material into finished goods, everything from tires to seals, hoses and gaskets.
Apparently they made a good profit exporting those goods to neighboring star systems like Epsilon Triangula that had a thriving automotive industry that needed the products. They paid for the shipping by supplying the freighters with food and rubber products to keep their ships functional, plus a tithe of the trade.
Recently the Airea 3 government had started to level docking fees to visiting ships in order to rebuild their spaceport. Since most of that money was actually coming from government grants, that was blatant fraud. When Liobat had pointed that out the delegates from Airea 3 had expressed their displeasure, they'd also released a statement saying the money was being reallocated to the infrastructure around the spaceport to keep up with increased demand for their project and more potential visits from freighters.
They'd also levered import tariffs on mining and machinery equipment that was imported from Nightingale and Epsilon Triangula. Apparently they wanted to “grow their local industry” and “not get undercut by foreign interests.” The problem was that the tariffs were solely against interests on those two planets. There was evidence that Airea 3 was being selective on who they used the tariffs against.
That was a factor his cabinet had to consider. They had to decide if they were going to intervene at all. Then there was the request to help the planet export its products to other markets since they'd ramped up production and saturated the local markets to the point where the prices were falling due to a lack of demand and the supply was stacking up in the warehouses.