Opening Moves

by James Traynor

  “They're scared,” Mairwen said. Softly.

  “They are spineless and short-sighted, like moles!” The Tuathaan growled. “A fleet of the Agama Hierarchy's navy or even a couple Rigaari flotillas could probably roll up the Dominion's flanks, or at least play merry hell with their supply chain.”

  “It doesn't matter,” the Érenni ambassador said with a tone of finality. Strangely enough the Pact's denial had given her something back. She no longer needed to grovel to them. Whatever happened to Mairwen now was one her terms. “Our time is nearly done. A scout ship dropped back into normspace half an hour ago with news that the Ashani fleet is on the move. They're coming to Akvô. It's quite possible this will be the last time you will ever talk to a representative of the Érenni Republics.” She shook her head. “I must go now. Remember what happens today, and try to do something about it.” Her hologram flickered, and then blanked out.

  “I also bid you farewell, Ambassador Setiawan. I must go and do my part to protect this world. I fear it'll be my last deed,” Gwythyr added solemnly.

  His image disappeared, too, leaving Serrok Setiawan alone, his head resting heavily in his two upper arms' hands. His predecessors as ambassadors to the Pact had been rather paranoid about the power of the Tuathaan and Érenni, a rather superstitious notion if one thought about it. But it was that same paranoia which was now rife in the Pact. It lay beneath much of what had been uttered here today, so much so that in reality they could no longer consider themselves an alliance. Each of them had retreated back into their own little corners, unwilling to pool resources for a common good – because there was no common ground for a common good. What did a Rigaari and an Agama share, or a Komerco for that matter? The desire to live? That was an abstract goal, abstract because none of them were in immediate danger. And the arguments against an intervention would remain the same with every falling piece: surely the Dominion's forces were depleted now? It was the natural path to take, and Serrok felt, no, knew it would lead to their disaster. The Dominion hadn't just started this war on a whim. They wouldn't have tackled the Érenni and the Clanholds at the same time if they weren't convinced they could take them. And if they could...

  He shuddered at the thought, for it meant the Ashani military build-up had far exceeded all of their projections. And it meant they could either fight together – or die alone.

  The Pyramid, Chicago, North American Union, Earth.

  It was often hard to tell Director William Campbell's mood. As a life-long intelligence expert he had come to guard his emotions and thoughts as well as he did the sources of his facts and figures. The East Coaster never displayed anything that was not minutely calculated to benefit his point of view or aid in convincing a recalcitrant politician or agent. For all intents and purposes, at the age of a hundred and twelve years, eighty-five of which he had spent with various intelligence services until his rise to the position of director, he was the dictionary definition of 'being in control'.

  But today was different. It wasn't so much an open show of raw emotion that had put the rumor mill of the Central Security Directorate into full spin. It was Campbell's sudden bout of tunnel vision. Despite his guarded nature, he was usually polite and courteous to his subordinates, wishing good mornings and good afternoons, unwittingly observing each and every one who crossed his path on a normal day at the agency. Today he had just stormed into his office, ignoring everyone else, and his face hadn't been the placid semi-friendly mask he so often wore but a stony cold chiseled something that looked like the director.

  As for the 'why', the prevailing theory had to do with the latest debate in the Congress and the growing Ashani situation. It didn't really register with most people as to why that could have riled Campbell the way it apparently had. The Dominion was half a galaxy away, and the CSD's main field of operations was with other human star nations. By god, there were enough of those to warrant sleepless nights...

  Even Susan Smith had heard about her boss' outburst, and when the call came through to report to Campbell's office she knew what it would be about: the SECSTATE had managed to get his way with the President.

  The entire population of the open floor plan of the office watched Smith exit the lift and walk towards the director's enclosed room. She felt herself being scrutinized by these agents, many of them with decades of field experience under their belts, weighing this nobody researcher from the dark corners of the Pyramid. Acutely aware of the attention, she tapped on the solid wooden doors.

  “Come in,” Campbell answered to the noise. “And close the door behind you.”

  Smith entered quickly, shutting out the piercing eyes behind her. “You asked for me, sir?”

  Campbell's office was spacious and well furnished with a set of leather couches assembled in a square at one end of the room, and his desk at the other end beneath a window with a view of Lake Michigan. It was an illusion, of course, but a strikingly real one. The director's office sat at the center of the second 'step' of the Union tower's pyramid-like structure. It was probably more heavily shielded than the quarters of the President herself.

  Campbell sat at the desk, a big, polished piece made from various precious woods, and gestured at the seat opposite him. “Sit down, Agent Smith. This is pretty important.”

  The young woman pulled up a chair and kept a totally blank face, trying to pretend she had no idea what this was about. Susan could feel a hint of sweat on her back and beneath her armpits. She cleared her throat. “Did I do something, sir?”

  “Not yet,” Campbell answered evenly. “You're here because of your expertise. Of all the analysts on my staff you seem to be the one who knows most about the Ashani. That makes you my go-to address until the section on the Dominion's fully staffed.”

  “The Dominion, sir?” she raised an eyebrow. “Well, I've studied every available report I could get my hands on.”

  “Congress is getting jumpy about this invasion going on in Pact space,” Campbell explained with the barest hint of annoyance. “It seems certain elements in the Senate feel the Ashani are a clear and present danger to the Union's interests in the area, and they think we need to do something about it.”

  “I see,” Susan nodded, and she actually understood Campbell. As head of the Union's intelligence apparatus it was his task to detect dangers t before they actually became a problem. But he also had to keep a level head, and the whole brouhaha about the Dominion was just that: a whole lot of empty talk and people freaking out for no reason. The Ashani would have to expand four times as fast as the Rasenni did in their most aggressive phase, and even then it would take them a lifetime to even approach some territory settled by humans, let alone Union space.

  “Some want to help out the Érenni,” Campbell continued with a slight quiver of his mouth, “some want to engage in a bit of saber rattling, others are just plain nervous about the idea of an advanced and warlike race showing up on our doorstep.”

  Smith cocked her head expectantly. Randolph had done exactly what he had said he would: sowing doubts and playing to fears among the more impressionable politicians. Ultimately, Susan didn't care for the SECSTATE's motives. She was in this for her career, not some lofty political ideals. Quite frankly, the whole political shit storm was kind of ridiculous, but it spoke of the power of the news cycle and of how easy people – even those elected to represent – were manipulated. She wondered what the Euros or the Alliance was making of all this. If she was in Chairman Zhou's position she would use the apparent political confusion in the Union's upper echelons to make a real job of some of the Alliance's claims out there. Nobody would even notice until it was too late...

  “Now, the President doesn't want any part of it, and for the record, neither do I. This just isn't our war, and for what it's worth, our position will be one of compassion and neutrality. Unfortunately, this isn't enough for the Congress. They now want hard facts and have pressured the President into sending a reconnaissance team into the Pact's members' space to check out w
hat's going on.”

  Susan folded her hands in her lap. “That's understandable, sir. The old proverb is true: Knowledge is power.”

  Campbell gave her an odd look, then went on. “Naturally, such a mission is risky. After all, it's not like we can just knock on the Dominion's door and ask just what their intentions are, is it?”

  She chuckled. “No, sir. I'm rather convinced that may require something less direct.”

  “So, with your knowledge of the Ashani, what do you recommend we should do?”

  Leaning back in her comfortable chair for a moment as if to gather her thoughts Susan found it hard to hide a smile. Things were coming together just the way she had hoped they would. This was the moment she had waited for, prepared for. “If we want to get the maximum amount of data in the shortest time, we would have to send a stealth recon platform to the edge of the Érenni home system.”

  “A ship?” Campbell repeated flatly, not giving away any guesses. “You do realize, Miss Smith, that a stealth platform of the Looking Glass-type is among the most valuable recon assets this organization possesses, and that there's a limited number of them to begin with. We've been using the few active units to keep tabs on the Chinese and the Euros, and even then we've only got an imperfect picture. And I hope you do agree these two factions posit an incredibly higher risk to our national security than a congressional fad on the other side of the Orion Spur?”

  She did. But that was beside the point, and she told him so. “A ship can react, sir.” Susan offered with a practiced shrug. “We can't send recon drones since we don't have the means to pick them up from an active battlefield. Anyway, if we did send drones we'd have to send a ship regardless, so my reasoning is to go in there with the best instruments we have. Gather as much data as possible, then slip out again.” She leaned forward, feeling more confident in her point. “A Looking Glass can spot trends in battle and focus its intelligence gathering on the most critical areas. A human crew in control will get us a lot more than an automated system, especially if we're talking about trained intel specialists.”

  “And also involves a much higher risk,” Campbell added coolly. “That far away from Union space there's a whole lot that could go wrong and blow the whistle on the recon platforms. The Looking Glass is top secret. If the Ashani manage to spot us we could not only lose one of our spy vessels, their whole existence would be revealed to the Euros and the Alliance and every indie system out there that we might want to keep tabs on.”

  Smith nodded. “Sir, I do realize the dangers, but if we want to satisfy the Congress the possible rewards of sending a platform out under these circumstances are…”

  “…are enough to justify putting lives and potential long-term national security considerations in jeopardy?” Campbell finished, it being more of a statement than a question. “You believe the risks are worth it? That we can afford to lose resources if it means gleaning some insight into the tactics of an enemy we probably won't ever have to face?”

  Susan thought about it for a second, then nodded. “To fulfill the requirements of the Congress? I certainly do, sir.”

  “Enough to bet your career on it?” The Director leaned forward, fixing Smith with a hard gaze. “Or even your life?”

  Smith swallowed hard and met his stare. She summoned up her courage. “I think the data we could gain from doing so is worth it.”

  A cold glimmer flashed up in Campbell's eyes. “If that's the case, report to Scott Airforce Base tomorrow at six A.M.. You'll be transferred to the U.V.S. ORACLE to make the two months' trip to Akvô.”

  Momentarily, Susan's expression froze on her face. She stared at Director Campbell with a look of bewilderment as if he was talking to her in some African dialect.

  “You are our expert, after all,” Campbell continued evenly. “The one who has studied every piece about the Dominion. You're the perfect asset to this mission.”

  “You want me in space, sir?” Smith finally managed to speak, her voice sounding shaken and brittle. “In a battle zone?”

  “Well, you won't get hard data on the Ashani sitting in a remote cubicle in the Pyramid, will you?” Campbell grinned, an emotion that didn't reach his eyes. “Pack lightly, Miss Smith. I hear there's not much space aboard a Looking Glass.”

  Susan felt as if someone had pulled the rug out from under her feet. “But... but, I'm not a field agent!” she meekly protested. “I'm…”

  “You won't be in the field, Miss Smith. You'll just be on an unarmed ship, two thousand light-years from home, cut off from all reinforcements, stuck in the middle of the most vicious battle in history, according to our predictions. That's what you advocated, isn't it?”

  “Yes, but no, I mean…” Susan stammered, trying to find a way out of the situation. She had never been in space before, and technically she wasn't even rated to go on field missions, let alone lethally dangerous ones. There was no way she would be put on a stealth recon platform without the proper training. The intellectual part of her brain knew all that. But that part wasn't in control right now. Panic was creeping up on her. She had hoped for an increase in political prestige based on the data that came back. That would've given her political leverage, chips she could call in later when she needed them. She was a data miner. Bloody hell, she didn't actually want to go on the mission and risk herself! All she wanted was the data and the chance to take credit for the idea. “What if something happens?” she finally managed to say.

  “Like what?” Campbell leaned back again, raising an eyebrow at her. “What could possibly happen? Oh yes, blowing the lid off our most valuable spy tool, or maybe getting killed.” The director's face hardened.

  “It's just, well, I can't be so easily replaced,” Smith tried to find her confidence again. “My knowledge…”

  “...is no more valuable than the lives of my people or the security of this nation!” Campbell suddenly exploded in cold anger. “This is the black section of the Pyramid! Did you really think I wouldn't know Randolph went to see you?”

  Susan balked at the director's unexpected fury – and at stupidly being caught red-handed. She had been so infatuated with the idea of cashing in on the SECSTATE's idea that she had completely ignored the rest of it: the co-workers, the cameras, the biometric sensors... “That was personal, it had nothing…”

  “Don't give me that crap, lady,” Campbell snarled in a distinct Long Islander accent as his anger bore through. “I know why the Congress wants to send an expedition and I know who stirred them up. Randolph wants to score some political points, and he is using you and me to do it! Worst case, that imitation of a Southern preacher is going to get my people killed on some damn fool mission just so he has a shot at becoming President in the next elections by appearing decisive. I suppose he hasn't thought this one through, has he,” the director snorted, than turned his attention back to Susan. “And I guess he's offered you a favor, huh?”

  “There wasn't any sort of deal, sir,” Smith lied with the straightest face she could manage. “He just asked my opinions on the Dominion.”

  “And you gave him exactly what he wanted: a way to stick our nose somewhere it doesn't belong, and probably get it cut off. This isn't spying on a Euro colony or some backwater pirate haven. There'll be thousands of ships, thousands of sensors pinging for their crews' dear lives. Everybody in that system will have their eyes on their plots, looking for the very kind of irregularities a stealth platform might create,” he snapped. “You know the survivability of an assignment like this? It's a damn suicide mission, and all for some political game.”

  Smith remained silent, hoping that way she could sit out the storm. She had been eager to send a reconnaissance mission, but now that she was going to be part of it she sincerely felt no desire to go. Everything she had done to date had been theory, totally safe for her. That the decisions she made could lead to great danger for others was a fact she hadn't truly considered until now.

  “Do you see what position you've put this agency in?
” Campbell growled tiredly. “It's an executive order. We have to send an expedition now, even if it makes as much sense as counting sand in the Sahara.”

  “I can talk to Randolph, maybe do something about it?” Smith offered hurriedly.

  “I think you've done enough for one lifetime, Miss Smith,” Campbell glared at her until she looked away. “Just thank whatever demon you sold your soul to that you're more valuable here than dead. I hate to say it but your knowledge of the Ashani may prove useful to us, in the long term.”

  Susan exhaled audibly. “Yes sir, thank you sir. Really, thank you.”

  “You disgust me, Smith,” he looked her in the eye. “As long as this situation's is ongoing and the SECSTATE's attention is focused on this matter it's closed season for you. But you better start looking for a job outside this agency, because if I find you conspiring behind my back again I'll make sure not even a fast food chain will have you as a janitor.”

  Smith nodded glumly. She didn't care about the threat or her future prospects in the agency, not really. Susan had aligned herself with Secretary Randolph. She had known that would bring her into conflict with Director Campbell, though she hadn't expected it to be this soon. That had been a short, sharp lesson in power politics, and a realization like a slap to the face that she had almost no power. More importantly, if Randolph lost his influence then her career was over, thanks to Campbell. But all of that, all of it, paled to insignificance against the relief of not having to go into mortal danger.

  “Get out of here,” Campbell dismissed. “I've got to find a way to get us out of this mess without getting a lot of our own people killed.”

  Smith stood, the Director not even looking at her twice, and left the room. Once more all eyes were on her as she shuffled quickly to the lift and returned shamefully to her darkened office. She felt humiliated and played, and now that the fear of being sent to her probable death had faded she grew angry and hateful towards the Director. She would have to stay close to Randolph, and when the time came she would be right there beside him, using all her knowledge to get the SECSTATE into office as President of the Union. She was now an enemy of Director Campbell, and if that was the price of her progress, then so be it. Randolph wanted Campbell gone, and from now on Smith was going to be happy to help.