Galactic Mail_Revolution!

by Richard F. Weyand

  After thirteen minutes, the ship transitioned into hyperspace-2, then transitioned again at thirteen minute intervals into hyperspace-3, hyperspace-4, hyperspace-5, and hyperspace-6. After only a few minutes in hyperspace-6, at an effective normal-space acceleration of (4πe)6 g, or one and a half billion gravities, the engines shut down and Dawson was weightless. She watched the bridge and the exterior views as the Mnemosyne flipped ship, and then reengaged the engines for deceleration. A few minutes more in hyperspace-6, and then the sequence played out in reverse, with down-transitions through the hyperspaces at thirteen minute intervals.

  After a number of minutes in hyperspace-1, the engines shut off and Dawson was weightless again. Fifteen minutes later, she received a message from Captain Bowers through the VR.

  Bowers to Dawson: Kalnai operational status normal. Proceeding to standard arrival orbit.

  Mnemosyne's engines reengaged and apparent gravity returned. A few more minutes and Mnemosyne transitioned into normal space. The hyperspace warning light went out, and they were once again free to unstrap and move around.

  The entire hyperspace portion of the trip, traveling hundreds of light years, took less than three hours.

  After dinner in the 4-14 dining room, Dawson met with Bowers in the captain's ready room. Bowers had requested the meeting to brief her on their status and request orders.

  “So we will take up our standard orbit around Kalnai, and Mnemosyne will report in as having arrived. We will synch our ship's clocks to the time at the Galactic Mail base on the planet, which is about three hours ahead of us currently. The question is, Then what?” Bowers asked.

  “Can you get a meeting with Kali Micheli, the regional manager, sometime tomorrow morning?”

  “I think so. Especially if I make a priority request for a confidential meeting. Her curiosity will kill her to find out what it's about.”

  “I think that's what we do then. You schedule a meeting, and then you, I, and George Enfield all go down to meet with her,” Dawson said.

  “Both you and George? I have to warn you Port Security has had similar issues to what you witnessed with Ship Security here. They are all under the same organization, and the previous Galactic Mail leadership had sixteen years to turn them into something of a regime security force. What if something happens to both you and Mr. Enfield?”

  “Then they get to deal with Jack Turner and Mary Dragic, and God help them.”

  Kalnai

  It was 10:00 hours the next morning when they set out for the planetary headquarters of Galactic Mail on Kalnai. Dawson noted with interest the location of the Port Security Building on the base as they came in for a landing on the shuttle pad on the roof of the Administrative Building. The trip down was just over forty-five minutes, and so they were on time for their 11:00 meeting with Kali Micheli.

  Dawson had spent an hour this morning familiarizing herself with the layout of the base, its construction, and the ships currently in orbit. One in particular interested her, and she commed that ship's computer with her flag-override credentials and was recognized.

  Dawson and Enfield also wore the Saf-T-Ear electronic earbuds this morning. Almost invisible in the ear canal, they contained an active repeater for sound as long as the decibel level didn't exceed safe levels, at which point they interrupted the signal, acting as ear plugs. She offered a set to Bowers as well, and he accepted them with a raised eyebrow.

  “Being prepared never hurts,” Dawson told him.

  They were met at the shuttle pad by an attendant and shown down to the outer office of the regional manager. On the way, Dawson VRed into the base computer systems and verified that the information that the leadership of Galactic Mail had changed had in fact been circulated out from Doma to the regional computers, but was being held confidential by the systems pending her authorization. She also verified that her download from this morning had arrived in her mailbox on base.

  At precisely 11:00 hours, the secretary showed them into the regional manager's office.

  “Captain Gregory Bowers, Ms. Patricia Dawson, and Mr. George Enfield.”

  “Come in, come in,” Micheli said as she came out from behind her desk. She shook Captain Bowers hand. “It's good to see you again, Greg.”

  “And you, Kali.”

  She shook Dawson's and Enfield's hands in turn.

  “Ms. Dawson. Mr. Enfield. I don't believe we've ever met.”

  “No, Ms. Micheli. Not unless you've ever been to Horizon. This is our first time off our home planet.”

  “Interesting. No, I've never been there. Well, be seated, everyone. Please,” Micheli said as she waved a hand to a sitting area off to one side of the office.

  Dawson and Enfield judged sight lines to the door and took chairs on the far side of the small coffee table.

  When they were all seated, Micheli started off.

  “Well, what's this all about then?”

  “Before we start, Ms. Micheli,” Dawson said, “I should warn you your office is likely under video and audio surveillance by Port Security.”

  In fact, Dawson knew that to be a fact. While flag overrides did not penetrate Port Security, her CEO authority did. She had been watching Micheli doing paperwork at her desk in real time over the VR while they were waiting in the outer office.

  “Oh, I don't think so, Ms. Dawson. Port Security is under my authority, and I have authorized no such intrusion.”

  “Very well.”

  On her head be it, Dawson thought.

  “We are here,” Dawson continued, “to discuss the mechanics of setting up the new headquarters of Galactic Mail here on Kalnai.”

  Micheli raised an eyebrow.

  “Have you been authorized by the CEO or the Board of Galactic Mail to pursue this mission?” Micheli asked.

  “Ms. Micheli, I am the CEO of Galactic Mail, and Mr. Enfield here is the Chairman of the Board of Directors.”

  Micheli continued to look at Dawson, but she pitched her face and voice toward the overhead.

  “Computer, who are the current CEO and Chairman of the Board of Galactic Mail?” Micheli asked.

  “The current CEO of Galactic Mail is Patricia Dawson, while the current Chairman of the Board is George Enfield,” the computer voice came back.

  “Has that been verified by Galactic Mail central systems on Doma?”

  “The information arrived in a secure communication from Doma three days ago, and was released for her use by Ms. Dawson this morning.”

  “Has this information been made public?

  “No, Ms. Micheli.”

  Micheli lowered her head back down to face directly at Dawson and simply stared.

  “George Enfield and I are distant cousins, Ms. Micheli. Our seventh-great-grandmother was Jan Childers,” Dawson said, nodding toward the picture of Childers on the wall to her left. “The founders of Galactic Mail built into its by-laws and its structure a mechanism for their descendants to take control of the corporation if it strayed too far from its charter. They expected Galactic Mail to eventually try to devolve into a galactic central government, and they set up a protection mechanism against that eventuality. Galactic Mail's attack on Wallachia, placing Galactic Mail's authority over a planetary government's in its own internal affairs, was deemed sufficient departure from its charter, sufficient motion toward a galactic government, to trigger this mechanism.

  “Consequently, the eighteen descendants charged with keeping watch on Galactic Mail have taken control of the corporation.”

  “That is an incredible story,” Micheli said.

  “It's just the sort of thing Admiral Childers would do, though, Kali,” Bowers said. “I know you've studied her history, too. We've talked about it. And I saw a pretty incredible clip of her discussing this whole thing. The whys, hows, and wherefores.”

  “I've sent you a short VR file of Jan Childers discussing the matter, Ms. Micheli. We would be pleased to wait while you viewed it,” Dawson said.

  “Please. I w
ould find that most helpful,” Micheli said.

  “Go ahead, Ms. Micheli. You, too, Captain Bowers, if you wish. You've seen a 2-D clip, but I sent you the VR file as well.”

  Micheli and Bowers got distant looks on their faces as they accessed the VR with their own VR remotes. Jan Childers looked at her watch. Shouldn't be too long now.

  At the end of the clip, Micheli's and Bowers' focus returned to the here and now. Micheli broke the silence.

  “That was an incredible experience, Ms. Dawson. To see and hear Jan Childers discuss her plans, extending centuries into the future. What incredible clarity of vision. Thank you for that.”

  The door from the outer office burst open and five men in the uniform of Port Security swarmed into the room. Micheli and her guests stood up.

  “Mr. Sitko, what is the meaning of this?”

  Kian Sitko. He's the head of Port Security. Good, Dawson thought.

  “Sorry, Ma'am. Patricia Dawson, George Enfield, you are under arrest.”

  “On what charge?” Enfield asked.

  Enfield and Dawson walked forward, to place themselves slightly in front of Micheli and Bowers, who had been seated between them and the door. They needed to clear their sight lines.

  “Conspiracy against Galactic Mail.”

  “There's no such law,” Enfield said.

  “Nevertheless, you will come with me.”

  “Go fuck yourself,” Dawson said.

  Sitko flushed with anger, but he merely nodded to his team, and all four guards started forward.

  The obscenity was a signal from Dawson to Enfield. They drew as one, and Mozambique drilled the four security guards, each taking their own side of the foursome. The guards were still falling when two shots hit Sitko in the head almost simultaneously. His gun had barely cleared the holster, and clattered as he fell.

  “My God,” Micheli said.

  Dawson walked to the door, and closed and locked it. She turned back to face Micheli.

  “Well, I did warn you,” Dawson said.

  Dawson used the VR to trigger the command file she had downloaded this morning, and several things happened at once. All the Port Security personnel got a VR message from Sitko's account, in Sitko's voice, calling them to the Port Security Building for an emergency meeting. The VR system then shut down messaging to or from all Port Security personnel so they could not communicate.

  And in orbit, a single kinetic weapon drone detached from the GMS Magellan, which was just now approaching the Galactic Mail Kalnai regional base in its orbit. The Magellan was on planetary rotation, being restocked and with much of its crew on planet leave. The standby bridge crew watched helplessly, unable to stop the weapon from launching seemingly on its own.

  “What do we do now?” Bowers asked.

  “We wait. I've set some things in motion, and there's nothing to do until they play out,” Dawson answered.

  When no backup squad showed up, Dawson and Enfield holstered their weapons. Micheli was still staring at the bodies on the floor.

  “I can't believe you could just do that. It was all so fast.”

  “We've been training for this our entire adult lives, Ms. Micheli,” Dawson said. “Against the chance that, during our time on watch, Galactic Mail would go off the rails. And it clearly has. You thought Port Security was under your authority, but in fact they serve only the regime of Sylvain Costa.”

  Micheli tore her gaze away from the bodies to look at Dawson.

  “Actually, I think this is more the work of Padma Kosar, Costa's chief of staff. Sylvain isn't as big of a problem as she is. He's the political face, the smooth operator, but she's the iron behind it. The corruption of the security organization is likely her work.”

  Dawson checked the VR, and looked out over the base toward the Port Security Building.

  “I think what we should do at the moment is to get behind Ms. Micheli's desk here. In case the windows don't hold,” Dawson said.

  Micheli looked confused at that, but Bowers had caught the direction of Dawson's look, and he motioned Micheli toward the desk.

  “Down on the floor here, Kali. I think there's more fireworks on the way.”

  All four of them got down on the floor on the side of the desk away from the big picture window. Dawson kept an eye on events in the VR.

  “All right. One minute. Cover your head with your arms, just in case,” Dawson said.

  Dawson had allowed fifteen minutes for all the security personnel to make it to the Port Security Building, where they all waited for Sitko to come and tell them what was going on.

  The kinetic weapon drone had initially accelerated toward the planet for two minutes at its full ten-g acceleration, then shut down and came in ballistic. Just short of the Port Security Building, it exploded. Rather than a single large hit in the center of the building, there were dozens of hits spread across the building. The building imploded, collapsing in on itself, and the burning fragments of the drone set the debris on fire.

  The Administrative Building shook to the impact, and then the blast wave hit the building. The windows held. Dawson had checked the base construction, and she knew all the windows on the side of every building facing the shuttle field were reinforced against a shuttle explosion. Port Security had built its headquarters in isolation across the field from the rest of the base, so the impact on the Port Security Building was in exactly the direction the reinforced windows of all the other buildings protected against.

  Dawson had also used the option to explode the drone prior to impact, to maximize the effect on the building while minimizing the shock wave. The multiple smaller hits at different distances from the other buildings spread out the shock in time, but reduced its peak amplitude.

  Dawson and the rest stood up from behind the desk and looked out the picture window to where the rubble of the Port Security Building blazed on the other side of the field.

  “How many Port Security people do you think were in the building?” Bowers asked.

  “Almost all of them. I sent out a message to all Port Security personnel over VR, from Sitko's account, in Sitko's voice, recalling everyone to the Port Security Building, no sooner than the gunfight here was over,” Dawson said.

  “But how did you know?” Micheli asked.

  “I didn't. But it was one of the possibilities, so I set up some options in my plans.”

  “Port Security was almost six thousand people.”

  “Ms. Micheli, Galactic Mail stands poised to become a galactic government that will doom trillions of people to tyranny for millennia. I will not allow that to happen. I will destroy whatever I need to destroy, I will kill whoever I need to kill, to keep that from happening. To keep Jan Childers' legacy of peace from being perverted into a hundred generations of oppression.”

  Dawson pointed out the picture window.

  “Consider that destruction out there, from a merely ballistic drone, and then consider the destruction Galactic Mail caused on Wallachia, with three full-power kinetic strikes in the middle of a major city and two ten-megaton warheads dropped on major police bases. And that's just a taste of what's coming if we don't stop it.

  “So I ask you, Ms. Micheli, are you with me? Do you stand against tyranny, or do you stand aside?”

  Micheli looked out at the ruins of the Port Security Building, drew a deep breath, and seemed to stiffen. She drew herself up straight and turned back to Dawson.

  “No, I'm with you, Ms. Dawson. You've had years to consider the issue. For me this has all unfolded in a single hour. But I'm with you, you and Jan Childers. I didn't like where things were going. I didn't like the Wallachia strike. I didn't like the Port Security situation, though I had no clue it had gotten so far out of hand. But I didn't see what I could do about it. And now I do.

  “So what's next? I know you have a plan, just as Jan Childers would have.”

  “Actually, I have her plans, drawn up by her staff almost two hundred years ago. And, believe it or not, there's nothing
that's happened so far they didn't see coming.

  As for what's next, I need your help with that.”

  Ship Security

  Jack Turner and the remaining fifteen members of the Board sat in the flag ready room aboard Mnemosyne, waiting for word of what was happening on the planet. Dawson, Enfield, and Bowers had been gone less than two hours when they heard from Dawson over the ship's comm, relayed through the VR system to their remote pickups.

  Turner and the Board members had been working on the Ship Security problem all morning.

  There were hundreds of Galactic Mail ships in orbit around Kalnai. Freighters of all sizes in the process of unloading or loading, drone tenders on ready status for deployment in case of an attack on a shareholder planet, the three big Titan liners that were sister ships to Mnemosyne, the smaller liners that spaced under the Galactic Mail banner. Every one of these Galactic Mail ships had a Ship Security contingent.

  For each ship design, they formulated a strategy. For most it was a message calling an emergency meeting of Ship Security in the mess hall on the deck Ship Security occupied. Ship Security were to arm up and report to the mess hall. They were to tell the mess hall staff to leave because of the confidential nature of the meeting.

  Of course, which deck Ship Security occupied on each ship was different among ship types. Separate messages had to be composed for each of them.

  Some ships had small security contingents, and it was enough to call them all to the ready room, which was actually the surveillance room aboard ship. On some others, messages were composed requesting all Ship Security to report to their quarters and arm up, then await instructions.

  When the comm came in from Dawson, they were ready.

  When Dawson commed just before noon to say they had neutralized Port Security and the Ship Security portion was a go, Turner triggered the transmission of downloads to the ship's computers of all Galactic Mail ships in Kalnai space. He followed this up with multiple communications transmissions to each ship, relayed through the Galactic Mail headquarters.