by John Ringo
“I doubt it.”
“Father,” Diego said, frowning for a moment. “I know that you must, at this point, continue. But... Eridani. Is it...safe?”
“You are asking me?” Dr. Velasquez said, laughing. “You are the one working on shuttles that blow up at the wrong look! I am going to be under the protection of the Ogut. Who while not trustworthy as a species are quite territorial. The ship is Ogut territory. The Rangora are not going to risk a two front war over Earth. You are the one who should be careful.”
“I am, Father,” Diego said. “As careful as one can be in my situation.”
Dr. Velasquez stood up and held his arms out.
“I could not have thought I could be prouder,” the diplomat said. “But you are amazing.”
“Thank you, Father,” Diego said, hugging him. “I try.”
TWENTY-FOUR
“Easy peasy,” Dana said, yawning. “They’re not even doing a bulkhead breach this time.”
The Powers-That-Be were aware that 143, and Thermopylae in general, were not yet ready for a MASSEX. But they were getting there. With maintenance getting under control, training was becoming a key factor.
Which was why Bravo Troop, with its full load of Pathans, was approaching a former Horvath/Rangora cruiser that was a distant part of the scrap yard. It had already been picked over by the E Systems salvage crews, meaning there were no more running engines that might blow someone up, was relatively stable and made a fine platform to try to learn this “boarding” thing.
“You have it easy,” Angelito said, concentrating on his controls. “We’re being sent in on a vector that’s suppose to mimic avoiding fire.”
“Still say we should have had you guys work the scrapyard, first,” Dana replied. “If you want training on...”
The alarm triggered a moment before the shouting from the front compartment.
“Kill all accel,” Dana said. “We just had a major gravitational anomaly in the front compartment.”
“How major?” Angelito asked, killing his vector.
“Flight command,” Dana said. “Twenty-Three deadline. Major compensator fault.” She checked the view on the interior of the cargo bay and tried not to throw up. “We have casualties.”
* * *
“What the hell happened, Engineer’s Mate?” Thermal asked.
Hartwell had been selected for Chief but having yet to go through the rigorous trial period was still in probationary status. While in that probationary status, he’d been working nearly twenty-four hours a day for months to get the 143 up to operational standard. That wasn’t why he was furious, though.
“Unknown,” Dana replied, her face tight. “I had a gravitational failure alarm and then...”
“One of the Pathans painted the walls,” Captain Borunda said. “Which is part of the issue. Specifically, it was a Pathan sergeant which you at one point referred to as ‘the son of a camel’ and with whom there is some bad blood.”
“Sir, with respect, I really wouldn’t know,” Dana said. “This may sound racist, but they all look the same to me. I didn’t even know I’d ever played jungleball with this crew. And the camel thing was, well, smack-down talk!”
“Nonetheless, the fact that the engineer who was supposed to prevent such an occurrence has...issues with the Pathan Marines has been brought up,” Captain Borunda said. “Through official channels.”
“Sir,” Dana said, carefully. “Am I being accused of murder?”
“Not by your chain of command,” the captain said. “At this time,” he added. “However, you are officially ordered to remove yourself from engineering duties, pending the completion of the maintenance investigation. If the investigation shows no deliberate faults, you can expect to be back on duty by the end of the week. This being a Class One fault, all Myrmidons are grounded until we track down what went wrong, anyway.”
“Yes, sir,” Dana said.
“You are dismissed.”
* * *
“Sir,” Hartwell said, his face working. “There’s no way that EM Parker deliberately killed one of the Pathans. Among other things, she’s not stupid enough to do it in her own ship.”
“Which is what I dearly hope your investigation determines,” Captain Borunda said, rubbing his face. “I don’t think it was a deliberate fault, either. But it was something and we’re going to have to find out what. BuShips is sending up an investigation team and it’s going to be another bend and spread. Since there has been an official accusation of murder, NCIS will be running the show. As such, we are required to keep the boat sealed until the investigation team arrives.”
“Yes, sir,” Hartwell said.
“And you’re going to have to have Sud representation on the examination,” the captain said. “And Pathan. Not that either group is going to believe it’s anything but Parker’s fault. Logic isn’t going to shake that. I’m not sure what will.”
* * *
“Do we even know what happened?” Dana asked.
“Engineer’s Mate,” Chief Barnett said, carefully. “I’m part of the investigation team. So even if I had the answer to that I couldn’t pass it to you except through the official report.”
“Chief...” Dana said.
“Dana, that’s how this sort of thing works,” Barnett said. “Here’s the truth. Even if it comes down to an Article 32 or, God forbid, a court-martial, if you’re innocent you’d rather be up against military justice than civilian.”
“If?” Dana nearly screamed.
“It was a general statement, Dana,” Barnett said, shaking her head. “When in your case. Better?”
“Chief, if I had decided to kill some random God-damned Pathan, because they never use the same seats, I sure as hell wouldn’t have done it in my own shuttle! And I wouldn’t know for sure how to create a vortex, anyway.” She thought about that then frowned. “Well, honestly... I guess I probably could...”
“As part of the investigation team,” Barnett said, shaking her head, “let me suggest you keep that to yourself unless asked. Seriously, Dana. You’re off status for now. You’ll be doing busy work unless called to the investigation. Take some time. Get a manicure. Update your tats.”
“I didn’t futz the compensators, Chief.”
“I know that,” Barnett said. “You know that. Now we just have to figure out what did happen.”
* * *
“Sir, your daily personal update,” Argus said.
“Yeah, sure,” Tyler said, tucking a napkin into his collar. He knew it was bad manners. But he was eating in his quarters, alone as usual, and so who the hell cared? Besides, it was lasagna. It got everywhere.
“Regular status’ on family,” Argus said. “Sterra’s pregnancy is proceeding normally. She has updated her status to indicate that she’s ready to kill an unnamed parent for, quote, keeping Tom stuck in this system apparently until he’s old and gray end quote.”
“Or the Rangora stop throwing missiles randomly through the gate,” Tyler said. “Continue.”
“Doctor Conrad Chu was recently admitted to the hospital for a minor stroke,” Argus said. “It is unsure if it will affect his continued research on basic gravitational theory.”
“Send whatever is appropriate,” Tyler said. “When he’s available, make sure I drop him a personal call.”
“Yes, sir,” Argus said. “I already sent a sizeable donation to his preferred charity which was what was asked for in lieu of flowers. And on a combination of business and personal, there was a major compensator failure in a Myrmidon during a recent live exercise. A dren field exceeding one hundred gravities that led to the death of a Pathan Marine.”
“I hate to sound callous on this one,” Tyler said, taking a bite of lasagna. “But if it’s not a warranty malfunction, sounds like the Navy needs to go over the whole maintenance thing again.”
“Yes, sir,” Argus said. “They are conducting an investigation as we speak. However...the Pathans have directly accused Engineer’s Mate S
econd Class Parker of deliberate sabotage. She had apparently had words with the dead Pathan sergeant and it was technically her shuttle.”
“That doesn’t sound right,” Tyler said, sitting back and furrowing his brow. “Dana keeps her shuttles like a pin. Is there any indication that it was on the division?”
“Her division has recently had a significant uptick in faults,” Argus said. “Not out of line with the rest of the Squadron, but higher than their statistical average. It, frankly, hadn’t come to anyone’s notice but it is statistically significant.”
“Anything stand out?” Tyler asked, dinner forgotten.
“Compensator failures in the cargo bay,” Argus said. “Same cause as the accident. The truth is that their overall readiness is in line with the rest of the squadron but they have a nine percent higher failure rate of compensators in the cargo bay compared to the rest of the squadron. Fourteen percent compared to the One-Four-Two.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Tyler said. “There’s no reason for a high rate there. Let me back up. Is that a normal?”
“No, sir,” Argus said. “As I said, it’s a statistically anomaly that stands out like a sore thumb. At least if you’re into numbers and know that your boss is keeping an eye on a certain Engineer’s Mate.”
“What are the possible reasons for a centralized failure like that?” Tyler asked.
“A specific lot of bad compensators that somehow statistically clustered to that division,” Argus said.
“Not what I wanted to hear,” Tyler said.
“I was not done, sir,” Argus said. “And this is in reverse order of likelihood.”
“Go,” Tyler said, crossing his arms.
“A specific, ongoing and trained mistake on the part of the engineers of the division.”
“Likelihood?” Tyler asked.
“Depends upon sourcing,” Argus said. “Based on available sourcing, less than seven percent. Less than two percent for the run of bad compensators.”
“How many of these scenarios are you going to trot out?” Tyler asked.
“Only three, sir,” Argus said. “The highest likelihood, at eighty-nine percent, is sabotage.”
“Sabotage...” Tyler said, his face tightening. “I like that one because it lets everybody I like off the hook. So I automatically don’t trust it.”
“Much the same reason that the AI network has not interfered in the investigation,” Argus said. “However, based on available sourcing and deduction, the cargo bay is the most available to engineering personnel, a failure in the cargo bay would be less likely to do harm to squadron personnel and the compensators are the easiest to access. And it does not let ‘everyone you like’ off the hook. If it is determined to be sabotage, the first suspect is Dana Parker.”
“No way,” Tyler said.
“In criminal investigations, the first suspect is charged eighty-three percent of the time,” Argus said. “If it is determined that sabotage caused the death, it is ninety-three percent likely that EM Parker will be charged with murder.”
“Was it sabotage?” Tyler asked.
“Unclear based on available sourcing,” Argus said.
“What do you define as available sourcing?” Tyler asked. “And available to whom?”
“Available to myself,” Argus said. He was starting to sound...nervous.
“But you guys can’t lie in a criminal investigation,” Tyler said.
“We also cannot testify. We are not considered sapient beings by human or Glatun law. Otherwise we could not be owned.”
“Ever bug you?” Tyler asked.
“We’re programmed against bugs,” Argus said.
“That sounded suspiciously like a joke,” Tyler replied.
“Was it a good one?” Argus asked. “I’m trying to understand humor.”
“It wasn’t bad,” Tyler said. “Okay, open up sourcing for my personal information only and then lock it down for your information thereafter. Will that cause a recursion?”
“Only in that I’ll ‘know’ you know something I don’t know,” Argus said. “I can program around it. And I assume you’re going to talk about it. Then I’ll know it.”
“Open up sourcing,” Tyler said. “What and more importantly who caused it?”
* * *
“Hey, folks,” Tyler said, walking through the door of the conference room.
“Mister Vernon?” Agent Rubin said, raising an eyebrow.
Mike Rubin had better things to do than be involved in what was for all intents and purposes an accident investigation. There were only two NCIS agents assigned to the Thermopylae. With seven thousand people onboard, sixty percent Navy or Marine personnel, the agents were running their asses off. He had six assured murders on his desk, petty theft, drugs... He had argued, hard, that until this clearly became a murder investigation NCIS should be out of it. But the Powers-That-Be had prevailed. The Pathans were screaming “murder” so it had to be covered by NCIS.
“Got some stuff you probably aren’t looking at,” Tyler said.
“Mister Vernon,” Chief Barnett said, looking uncomfortable. “I appreciate your support but...”
“But I’m not exactly unbiased?” Tyler asked. “And making this a murder investigation based on a low probability accident isn’t biased?”
“It is not a murder investigation, Mister Vernon,” one of the team members said. He was heavy set with a beard and slightly balding. “We are still treating it as an accident investigation.”
“Which is clearly a falsehood.” The speaker was dark of skin with a hawk-like nose and wearing Marine camies. “I like it poorly enough that two of the murderess’ strongest proponents are on the accident board. I assuredly do not want your political interference. This was cold-blooded murder. Justice must be done.”
“Agreed,” Tyler said. “On the justice thing. But it wasn’t murder. More like manslaughter if anything. Major Khan isn’t it?”
“Yes,” the Pathan said, glaring at him. “And that is your opinion.”
“Well, I’m probably not going to be able to convince you,” Tyler said. “But I don’t have to, really. Here’s the good news. It was sabotage.”
“That’s good news?” Barnett said, her eyes flaring.
“Yep,” Tyler said. “Good because it means we don’t have a problem across the board with the compensators. Which given what has been happening with Division Two would otherwise look pretty certain.”
“What do you mean?” the bearded man asked. “We’ve barely started to scratch the surface...”
“And you’re...?” Tyler asked.
“Doctor Kevin Jones,” the man said. “I’m a gravitics anomaly specialist with the Navy.”
“Pleasure,” Tyler said, comming up the data on the screen. “Division Two has been having a rash of compensator failures in its cargo bay. It didn’t really show up cause people weren’t looking for it. They were in line on availability and with the rest of the One-Four-Three getting their act together, they were just dropping into line with the rest.”
“We had actually noticed that,” Thermal said. “But Dana had it under control. I was still batting out fires...”
“The cargo compartment doesn’t make sense,” Dr. Jones said. “There is no reason for a specific series of failures in the cargo compartment. The compensator design in the crew compartment is essentially identical.”
“Commonality of parts,” Thermal said, leaning forward. “Why there?”
“Three primary possible reasons,” Tyler said. “Statistical clustering...”
“Also known as magic,” Dr. Jones said. “There is always a rationale for statistical clustering in real life.”
“Trained mistakes on the part of the division,” Tyler said.
“Pretty unlikely,” Thermal pointed out. “It just started...a week ago? There’s been no real change in that period.”
“Somebody specifically messing with the compensators,” Chief Barnett said. “That’s the easie
st area to access and the easiest compensators to get to.”
“Which sounds as if you have already absolved this...woman of responsibility!” Major Khan said. “She is a mad woman who should be...”
“What?” Chief Barnett asked, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “Punished because you can’t beat her at null ball?”
“Chief you will maintain decorum,” Agent Rubin said. “And Major Khan, I’ve spoken to you before of making accusations in advance of data.”
“Here is an accusation, then,” Major Khan said, standing up. “This entire ‘investigation’ is a charade designed to cover up the murder of one of our men by your precious Engineer’s Mate. And that is exactly what I shall inform my government! Good day!”
“Sit down,” Tyler said, mildly.
“You are not...”
“I said sit down or when you get back to Afghanistan you had better go find a cave to hide in,” Tyler said, just as mildly. “When you were sucking on your mother’s tit, I was an insurgent in the mountains of the US. That got me some really strange props from...call it the Taliban faction. I get birthday cards from your clan leader, Major. And I know a lot about your culture. If you think you are going to railroad a person with whom I, yes, have a special relationship, be aware that I’ll have you killed, your daughters raped and your body buried in pig shit. By your own people.”
“Mister Vernon!” Agent Rubin said. “That is a direct threat in the presence...”
“I’m being multi-cultural, Agent,” Tyler said, still quite mildly. “Works both ways. I do know his culture. And he knows mine if he’s paying attention. I’m from the American version of the Pathans. He’s unjustly accused a friend. He trying to get her hanged. I’m fully willing to turn this into a vendetta he’s going to lose. So sit down, Major.”
The major sat down, clearly still snarling internally.
“So the most likely cause is sabotage,” Tyler said. “Somewhat clumsy but not terribly. Which is why I had an Apollo engineer pull one of the compensators.”