“What is?”
“Mission code two-five-six…” He leaned back and shouted down the row of servers to an unseen accomplice, “Hey, Benny, what’s primary mission code two fifty six?”
Erikson took a step back, adjusting for the sudden increase in volume. The operator evidently didn’t notice.
“There’s not one! The data set is limited to two-fifty-five!” came the echoing response.
“That can’t be correct; I’m looking at it right now!” he shouted back again, as his hands picked up speed, flying between the keys on the desk and the icons on the screen. The text order disappeared, giving way to a diagram of network nodes.
“What are you looking for?” Erikson asked, staring intently over the operator’s shoulder.
“Trying to find the path through the core that this command took,” he replied. “If there’s a corrupt local copy of the codes, we’ll need to run a restoration before more errors propagate.”
“So you believe me.”
The operator looked back at Erikson, caught between his normal demeanor and the fact that his guest might have a point, and a substantial one at that. “I agree someone in your office caught a problem, which is their only damned job. Don’t push it. It’s not like you were the one who found it,” he admitted. “And don’t forget you came to me for help. This is all for you.”
“Noted.” Erikson smiled and leaned back from his intrigued companion, content to let him scramble through the bevy of menus for a few minutes longer. A thin smile slowly grew on his face.
***
“This is the place, right?” Shriver asked Maddie as they stopped along the sidewalk before another large Dominion building a twenty-minute walk from the MOC in the northeast extension of Orellius. “This is Telfer’s address, according to the roster?”
The night had grown deep, bathing the world in darkness enough that the external lights could barely keep it at bay. If nothing else it provided a fleeting victory in that the rain had ceased to be replaced by another cold, damp breeze.
“Yes, I told you, this is his building. I’ve been over a handful of times,” Maddie replied, passing through the breezeway doors.
“Oh you have?” Shriver said with added inflection as he followed her inside. “What does that mean?”
“Would you stop it,” Maddie replied with a sigh. “It means we showed up at the same time from the academy, we didn’t know anyone else, and I helped him decorate his shitty apartment. Ooh, so scandalous; so shove it.”
Shriver laughed at the mental image conjured up by his coworker. “Of course, how silly of me. What floor is he on?”
“I’ll show you,” Maddie said and led the way to unit 914 and knocked on the door to no response. The pair looked at each other and she tried again. “Telfer, wake up! It’s Maddie, we need to talk!”
“He sleeps hard,” Shafer offered.
Maddie ignore the quip, knelt down by the wall, and with the aid of a steady hand, fished a spare keycard from the barely-visible void beside the wall. “So predictable,” she remarked as she flipped the key over. “That’s the first trick I taught him when he showed up last spring.” She pressed the card against the lock which responded with a mechanical click and the release of the latch.
The door swung away and the pair stepped inside the dim apartment. Lighted panels in the ceiling came to life at their movement, spreading an even glow across the well-kept living space. Telfer’s few pieces of furniture were properly situated for entertaining and a few framed portraits dotted the walls.
“I didn’t know he was OCD,” Shafer noted, turning on the lamp which was perfectly centered on the hall table to his left. It cast a cozy, amber shade on the corner of room.
“He’s not.” Maddie’s face deepened with concern. “This is nothing like I remember. Check his room.” She continued to scan the room as Shafer disappeared around the corner. It was increasingly strange, she decided. There was no sign of his presence, no jacket by the door, no dishes in the open kitchen, and no sign of anything he would have carried to the office.
“Nothing.” Shafer emerged from the adjoining room. “Bed’s made and everything’s cleaned up. You did a swell job of decorating for him. Where do you think he is?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s hiding out somewhere else. He looked scared half to hell last I saw him.”
“You think he got picked up?”
Maddie stared back for a moment, considering Shafer’s statement, then went for her communicator and pressed the emergency number for the MOC floor. Sullivan answered immediately.
“Maddie, where are you?” came the immediate response. “Everyone’s on edge over here.”
“Same over here.” She sighed. “I’m at Telfer’s place with Shafer. I need you to run an order query.”
“Good, I was afraid you got roped into some mission with the liaisons.” Sullivan switched screens. “Of course, what do you need?”
“Are there any signs of series-one-fifty-one police actions ordered on Telfer’s building over the last day, especially over our shift? Everything in here looks staged.”
Sullivan’s face crinkled. “That doesn’t sound familiar, but I’ll run it,” he replied and ran through the commands. “What makes you suspect something happened?”
“Everything’s too damn clean,” Maddie said in a hushed whisper, still looking over the domicile. “He was never like this before.”
“You’re right; that’s strange.” Sullivan watched as the query completed. “Just got a result…nothing.”
Maddie grumbled to herself. “Well, something happened to him. Can you think of anything else? What other orders would have made him disappear?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll keep looking. Just get back here safe; I’ll try to have something before too long.”
“Thanks. I owe you,” Maddie said and closed the channel. Shafer waited silently across from her.
“You think he was arrested?”
“Maybe. Look, the furniture legs are a couple inches off from the scratches in the floor.” She pointed to the pair of side chairs. “They were moved. Everything’s dusted and it’s all a little too perfect.”
“There’s also no paper.”
“What?”
“Didn’t you notice?” Shafer said. “No physical files in his bedroom, no lease agreement, no books, nothing from work.”
Maddie’s eyes dashed around the room once more. As her companion had observed, there was no printed material present anywhere within eyeshot. “Were they ordered to purge all the paper?”
“Maybe someone’s trying to keep him quiet.”
She shivered at the thought. “I hope not. Come on; let’s get out of here before we get rolled up along with him.”
9
The first negotiating session had gone exceedingly well. At least, that’s what Senator Leary told himself as he exited from the engagement. The ground had been broken on his new vision of humanity and the senate was slowly coming around to understanding his goals. He walked out of the small conference room with a suppressed smile, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt as much out of habit as anything else.
Including himself, ten supportive members of the senate were in attendance, along with a team of senior leaders from their militarized branches. Additionally, they had pulled in a few disparate experts on various schemas for thinking machines, as well as a number of technologists and industry representatives with the processing background to turn the vision into reality. Leary had made a point to canvas the galaxy for as many intelligent and interested minds as he could find, although the process was not without its issues.
Each group seemed to have their own concerns. The senators ruffled themselves over the stability of the Dominion, wary of anything that would sweep away their positions along with their responsibilities. The fleet leaders were exceedingly anxious with the apparent missing oversight of whatever duties they would be called to perform in the defense of the civilization; Senator Leary
had made a note to incorporate extensive fail-safe procedures, as well as oversight protocols to monitor their future governing system.
Senator Greene, one of his most vocal supporters, followed him back to the senator’s primary office. He dropped unceremoniously into Leary’s guest chair, beaming.
“Deftly executed, if I don’t say so myself. Congratulations!” he exclaimed as Senator Leary sat to face him.
“Concur,” he replied. “I’m glad to see we’re starting to make some headway against them. We need to move fast so we can keep the public on our side. We don’t want to lose the initiative, have this be forgotten, and be back at the starting line again as usual.”
Greene laughed. “Fly fast, crash and burn,” he said, turning to face his companion. “Did you ever get a call sign when you were with the fleet? If not, I’m just gonna call you ‘Deftly’ from here on out.”
“No one gets named an adverb,” Leary replied, shaking his head.
“Better than an acronym. Besides, I think it fits.”
“Please don’t.”
“I’ll stop when you prove me wrong. Deftly,” Greene said again with a laugh.
***
Commander Graves left his position on his battleship’s bridge and embarked on yet another inspection, this time on the forward offensive cannon batteries. It was a required procedure, considering their obvious purpose, but that wasn’t his first stop on the patrol.
A floor down and less than half the distance to the leading edge of the ship, he ran into their superintendent, Chief Baldric, who was the real target of his inspection. He saw their second in command approach and left his task of checking a weapon loader for the team on call.
“Commander,” he said, “you don’t look well.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Graves replied. “What do you know about our orders?”
“I know what I need to know, sir,” Baldric said. “We were told to launch and arm the guns. Why?”
Graves swallowed hard and offered his display which reiterated their current commands, as well as the tree of functional checks demanded by the battleship. “We’re being sent to destroy New Loeria,” he said. “That’s the coordinate and the bombardment order. Follow-up is to deploy over land and ensure no survivors.”
Baldric’s face went from professional to skeptical as he looked over the document. “That can’t be right. New Loeria is massive. Are you sure it’s not another planet in the system? Some asteroid, moon, full of deranged separatists?”
“I ran it three times, checking against both the ship’s interpretation and the straight transmission of the order,” Graves said. “I wanted to have your eyes on it first, but I don’t see any other choice. We have to take it to the captain.”
“You know he’s not one to be swayed against the will of the OSIRIS.” Baldric shook his head. “We’re not in any position to question him or it on any of this without substantial evidence.”
“That’s millions of lives you’re talking about!” Graves’ voice grew. “We can’t blindly let this happen, not when we have the ability to stop it.” He paused. “I just can’t sit by and watch this kind of tragedy befall us. Not on my watch.”
Baldric thought a moment longer. “But suppose you’re wrong. What if the OSIRIS detected a plague, and the only solution is to glass the planet? What if they’re growing treasonous and they’ve finally developed the guts enough to build a fleet and challenge the Dominion? That could drive us back to war for a generation and cost more planets, entire fleets of ships to correct the problem. We know from history, not to mention fleet training that overwhelming force to stamp out a threat quickly is ultimately the better solution for everyone.” He stopped and studied the commander’s face. “Even for those who stand to lose their lives. Maybe even especially for them.”
“Well, if it was a rebellion, we’d have some intel ahead of time; there’d be no reason to leave us in the dark. We’d be warned of all of that going in.”
“Orders are to arm both defensive and offensive capabilities, so that seems to say there’s a chance of retaliation.”
“And the ground assault; that’d never fly with a plague.”
“Full environmental protection is authorized for the ground teams, as well as post-op isolation and decontamination for all forces.” Baldric flipped the screen back and pointed to their follow-up actions. “It’s right there in the order. Are you sure you’re not just seeing what you want to see?”
Graves stopped and accepted the tablet back from the superintendent. “I… I really don’t know.” He stared off, down the maintenance corridor, surrounded by diamond plate floor treads, walls of metal grates, and exquisitely placed equipment perfectly situated in their storage compartments. “It’s the most significant operation I’ve ever been commanded to execute. This is an entire planet we’re talking about, who have put their trust in our ability to protect them. I don’t think an extra verification is uncalled for.”
Baldric took a step closer to the commander and lowered his voice against the humming machinery behind him. “Look, of all professions out there, we sometimes need to ask questions and other times we need to obey without a second thought. If you want to voice your concern with the captain, if you feel you can’t be a part of this as is, then do so, but keep it respectful. He won’t want to hear it, but he can at least commend you that you’re following up.” He looked down at the coordinates again. “No one ever said our work is easy.”
“But if we weren’t supposed to raise questions every now and then, the entire fleet would be automated and the OSIRIS would run everything without our input at all. We’re here to be that final check before disaster.”
Baldric nodded in admission. “Correct, but don’t let your biases blind you to the most likely probabilities.”
***
Visions of a past life in New Loeria clouded Leo’s mind; images of the sky beyond the life-preserving domed habitats which enveloped their cities and cut down the harmful radiation danced within her head. The days spent meandering through the pedestrian-centric streets, oblivious to the feats of engineering which were keeping them all alive. The later lessons on the importance of those systems which put to rest the careless attitudes of youth and instilled within every New Loeria citizen a healthy respect and bit of skepticism.
Even the early supply runs over land, where she had been protected by little more than a tin can with wheels and a few plastic cut-outs, made an appearance within the swirling maelstrom of her mind. Such experiences were invariably dangerous but at the time gave her the courage to take greater risks. Out in the wastelands, where a traveler could be utterly alone, was where many citizens, including Leo, had learned the deepest lessons of life, normally venerated and stashed within protected corners, deep inside their souls.
It was all an introductory chapter to a life in space. Sometimes she found herself in the middle of nowhere while other times in the middle of nowhere she found herself. But then the sky darkened; she heard the dreadful screech of the colony’s dome failing. The rumble of distant cannon strikes. The terror of their citizens.
Leo awoke, the images still clear within her head as the shuttle swayed beneath her. The copilot was standing across the cabin, busying himself for some other operation. “What’s going on?” she groggily asked him.
“First fuel stop, ma’am,” he said. “We just left the jump and are on approach. We’ll be on the ground in twenty minutes and on our way again in under an hour.”
She nodded. “Thank you. This is really the fastest way to get there?”
“Sorry to say, but yes,” he replied. “Remember, we’re sitting on a lot of engine and we’re burning hot. More fuel means more mass, means slower. Besides, Merrimack Station isn’t a bad place to refuel.”
The crew member evidently didn’t know the reason for their haste, Leo realized, but she didn’t want to disrupt the operation anymore by letting that little gem drop. “You’re right,” Leo agreed. “I’ve been h
ere a few times in my travels.” She added, looking out the rounded window beside her seat. There was little more than darkness but she did catch a flicker of light from the far-off moon that would serve as their next waypoint. As long as they kept a better pace than the fleet, she wouldn’t need to make the details known. She followed the crew to the hatch as they approached the station’s port and prepared to disembark.
***
Riley Lorde straightened his tie one last time as the onslaught of disparaging remarks from the esteemed members of the Dominion’s council came to a close. “Ladies and gentlemen, let me reiterate, I am not here with the intent to start a revolution. I am saying that the MOC team is in the midst of an investigation that could very well have its impacts felt in your hall”—he looked up toward the desk occupied by the representative from New Loeria—“and some seats more than others. It is my duty to deliver this message, and it is incumbent on you to act upon it.”
“That is for the council to decide,” a voice echoed down to the stage. “Bring us the evidence and we will open deliberations on the OSIRIS’s performance.”
“Then that is what I will do.” Lorde left the stage with a determined step and wound his way back to his office without wasting any additional time. He knew the council’s mindset, and he knew their solution before he had taken the first step onto the stage. No action would be taken on a whim. Betraying the will of the OSIRIS, even by elective vote, was a dangerous operation and one that was reserved for egregious errors or for what he suspected were conflicts of interest. All told, votes were held no more than once in a representative’s career and the level of scrutiny within which they were placed was reflective of their rarity.
Despite his experience in such situations, sweat had begun collecting on his face, a product of the stress along with the heat rising in the chamber.
He’d need to get more information from the MOC, that much he was sure, before there’d be any chance of getting real action from the council. The representatives required proof before any intention of making progress, so that was what he would bring them. The full accounting from the operators would be a good start, as well as any information retrieved by Leo from the planet itself. After that, he’d draft the resolution itself and drop it in front of their faces so there’d be no method to ignore his request.
The Deftly Paradox Page 4