by Chris Hechtl
As he came off that he finally got a moment alone with Helen. She'd signaled she'd wanted some alone time with him, he'd guessed why. But she'd surprised him by requesting orders be issued to Bek and Nuevo to draw additional medical personnel from them. She also wanted him to bring Admiral Heals Quickly to the outer Federation. He instantly agreed.
Protector passed on the conversation to Sprite who immediately wrote the orders up and then passed them back to the admiral. He immediately signed off on them and they went out through the ansible. They would only get as far as the Sargasso station until the ansible in Bek came online but at least it was a start.
“Helen, we're going to need your people too—a lot of them. Everyone is going to have to step up. Not just here, but in Tau, Pi, everywhere. We're going to have a hell of a time getting ahead of this if we run into the worst-case scenario,” he warned.
“Then we might need to dust off the ET answer. Tailor it as a broad-spectrum problem solver.”
“Didn't most of the nanites die off?” Admiral Irons asked.
“Most after a set period of time. We'd have to change the clock.”
“And that's a problem. We can't have self-replicating nanites out in the wild, Helen. And you're talking about a lot of nanites. Enough to inoculate everyone in a population. And we're talking hundreds, potentially thousands of worlds and habitats.”
“It is daunting. But what choice do we have?”
He paused and considered it. Finally, he sighed. “Write it up as a possible way to solve the problem, but let's stick to more conventional treatments first if we can. Hold it in reserve.”
“You are afraid of fallout from the public if they hear about the cure,” she accused.
“No. There are legal issues too. There is a reason this wasn't used during the Xeno war, Helen. People freak at the idea of being exposed to nanotech even now. We'd have even more of a panic.”
“At least until the idiots saw that it was a cure not another plague,” Helen pointed out. The ansible stripped away any emotion, but his imagination could fill in her acidic tone of voice just fine. Perhaps it was a little too good at the job he thought wryly.
“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. First, get the ball rolling. We'll send a ship to ET. Several ships,” he amended. “Obviously, sending anything smaller than a Liberty is out; they'd have a hell of a time making the long jump.”
“That's your bailiwick, not mine,” she reminded him.
“Damn. I wish we had more tenders. They'd do wonders in something like this.”
“Tenders? Oh, like Prometheus?”
“She's a jack of all trades. She has a big sickbay, not as great as a hospital ship, but pretty good. And with industrial grade replicators onboard, she can produce gear for the ground.”
“Ah.”
“But, it's nothing we can do about right now. Ptah should serve us well in that regard in Pi, once she gets there.”
“Yes, sir. I'm going to talk to ETMI about a run of civilian hospital ships after they finish the one they are working on now. I just sent up a couple shuttles worth of equipment and people. I won't tell tales out of school, but Faith could use some quiet priming to start the logistics on her end.”
“Okay, but be careful. If I get a nasty note from your implants it is on you.”
“Joy,” Helen said as she signed off.
~~~^~~~
Yorgi looked at Monty and then to the other intelligence officers in the room. “I don't care what we said before, but this is partially on us. We didn't see it. People are going to point fingers. So, we need to fix it. We need to take everything apart and find where we lost the information and fix it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Start with Fourth Fleet survivors. We need to take them apart if necessary. Find out what they know, if anything. Anything is on the table obviously since this is a plague of epic proportions.”
Monty grimaced but nodded. “We have already, still nothing. We need to do all we can to help stop this. I'll pass it on.”
“Agreed.”
“Mind strips are on the table?” Captain Lake asked carefully.
Monty sucked in a protesting breath but Yorgi shot her a look. “Threat first. If we don't get anything from them and we know they have the knowledge we seek, we'll do it. But you and I both know it's a double-edged sword. We get their memories, but it is a jumbled mess. It takes ages to sort out. Time and computing power we may not have to spare. So, whatever they can give up voluntarily, or under chemical duress, do it first.”
“Yes, sir.”
~~~^~~~
Liobat privately admitted she was starting to dread her morning sessions, if only because she wasn't ready to deal with questions about Dancer quite yet. Hopefully, someone would let her deal with it soon; it was better to get ahead of such things rather than play catch-up and look defensive and like they were hiding something.
Which was what she was feeling but kept her expression professionally bored as she welcomed the group and then went through the usual morning routine. It was a slow news day otherwise, so she worked through her releases and then opened the floor to the dreaded question session.
A Veraxin reporter from GSN raised a truehand, and when she called on him, she was surprised by the question. “Given that Irons and other humans dominate the Federation government much like the Horathian one, shouldn't he resign to give others a chance to lead?”
“Why?”
“Because he's human like the Horathians. It is wrong to have a human leading us,” the Veraxin stated. “He was allegedly appointed, not voted in.”
“Excuse me? I'm not a fan of bigotry or racism. Admiral Irons was, yes, born human. He can't help the bigotry or crap coming out of Horath. All he can do is stand up to them and lead our people into stopping them, which is exactly what he is doing.”
“But do you feel that there are too many humans in the cabinet?” a reporter asked as she selected her.
“No. Admiral Irons choose those who were most qualified at the time to fill the job.”
“So, should some of them resign to make room for more qualified personnel now?” another reporter asked.
Liobat's ears flicked. “You folks aren't going to let this one go, are you?” she asked, trying to laugh it off. “The last time I checked I'm not human. Nor are several other members of the cabinet. We're not going anywhere. I am unaware of anyone who has indicated a desire to move on. If I find out, I'll let you know.”
“What about the military?”
“What about them?”
“A lot of the leadership is by humans. Shouldn't positions be opened to others more qualified?”
“Tell that to Admiral White or Admiral Pashenkov or Admiral Sharp Reflexes or for that matter, to Admiral V'r'z'll and Commodore X'll'rr. I think they'd have something different to say about your opinion,” she said witheringly. She surveyed the quiet group for a long moment before continuing. “I believe the Federation military is pretty much all inclusive. If you can point to a nonhuman in Horath, let me know. I can say that the humans in military or civil service are ready and eager to kick Horathian ass and put their bigotry down once and for all like anyone else.”
~~~^~~~
In a brief quiet moment between meetings, Admiral Irons took a moment to watch the various news feeds. He saw the attack on him by the Veraxin reporter, but he just shook his head in annoyance. He'd expected something along those lines. In fact, they'd had it a few times, but each time, it hadn't gained any traction.
Sometime they might get enough to make a dent in his popularity he knew, but he wasn't sure when. Probably when he fracked up spectacularly enough he thought darkly.
From the look of the chatter, it was threatening to take over the news cycle. He switched channels to see a video of Mrs. Randall visiting a class of kids painting. The Antigua bit was always a good filler, and Mrs. Randall was always known for a positive story to help balance out the negative. She was always there push
ing against poverty and pushing for more education while showing off old-style values like taking care of the family.
The story then switched to one about how some people were losing their jobs due to the introduction of Federation technology. At first the blame was all on him for upsetting the apple cart, but then near the end of the story, the story shifted to one of hope, showing a college and adult education center where people could retrain for a better career.
“And of course, they don't mention how much a person working in a field got paid picking versus someone who gets a better education can now do something else,” the admiral muttered under his breath. “Something better paying even if it is working in fast food.”
“That is a valid point, Admiral,” Protector stated.
“Ah, you are free for a moment?” Admiral Irons asked.
“I am always free, Admiral. Unlike Proteus I am always watching over you. It is a part of my duties.”
“Ah. Not what I meant,” the admiral said, sitting back.
“I see. Well, the answer is yes, so if you are feeling neglected, you can bounce something off me.”
“I'm not up for something like that. Where are we with things?”
“No news on the war front. Another cruiser division has come to the Sargasso station from Bek. Nuevo A and B are mired in their war.”
“Ah.”
“When the news of the war hit the media, there was a bit of a panic when they mistook it for the vaccination work on Antigua and throughout the Federation,” Protector stated. “Miss Liobat and the surgeon general have straightened it out.”
“Ah? A case of the unenlightened seeing the light?”
“If by you mean the ignorant mistaking a series of stories on an outbreak of worms at a school mostly populated by Neos for the worms attacking Nuevo … yes.”
The human winced. “Panic?” Admiral Irons asked, already envisioning the answer.
“Some. As I said, they got it under control by explaining the vast difference.”
“Ah.”
“It does go to prove mass inoculation at the same time is important to halt the spread of such things. Otherwise, you organics tend to re-infect yourselves all over again and then again and again.”
“I see.”
“Some compared it as a worse infestation than lice. More insidious since it is inside your bodies and most of you can't detect it. And it can jump species.”
“Right. Which is why we're pushing the inoculation program. Too many people die from the stupid shit that can be prevented. The old saying about an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure comes to mind.”
“Ah. I'll pass that on to Miss Liobat if the subject is brought up again.”
“Undoubtedly it will. There is still resistance on vaccinations. Some suspicions. Are they still afraid of the ET nanites?”
“We've proven that we're not using ET nanotech, though now there is some question as to why not since it is so effective and is a great preventive measure against a Xeno infestation.”
“No. Nanotech is too dangerous.”
“There are also some low-level inquiries about using the tech to cleanse infested worlds like P34cv9.”
“P …?” the admiral puzzled over the name until Protector brought up a sector map and stuck an icon on it. He instantly remembered his visit there on Io 11. He grunted.
“Normal handling of that situation is a saturation nuclear strike. One designed to keep the infestation on the ground and not accidentally blow seed spores up into orbit and therefore pass on the potential of passing it on to neighboring star systems,” Protector prompted. “But there is hope of cleansing the world with the ET nanites and thus making it habitable again.”
“I guess in theory that might work,” the admiral said slowly, pushing himself away from the desk in order to gain leg room in order to rise and stand. He did so and then stretched slowly. “But it is a layman's approach to it. We have no idea how effective it would be. The nanotech could be eaten by the Xeno nanotech or suborned.”
“Effective arguments against an attempt. That and the tremendous expenses involved,” Protector stated as the admiral sat on the edge of his desk and played with his holographic emitter.
“All true. I could see it in theory, but we could easily terraform another world for far less expense and risk. But putting an end to the potential threat is also important,” he admitted, writing a memo to himself to look into that very thing eventually.
“But, first we have to win the war,” Protector reminded him.
“Eh? Yeah,” the admiral agreed with a reluctant nod. “You shouldn't get me drawn into such things. I love puzzles, especially engineering ones.”
“This isn't exactly an engineering one, Admiral. More like a biosphere one.”
“Oh, it is. Any problem can be seen from an engineering point of view if you shift your focus right. I see we have a Xeno lab in our backyard, so we probably should put a picket there and maybe a science station.”
“Your intent?” Protector prompted as the admiral became quiet and played with the image of the planet as well as his memories of his time in orbit. “Admiral?”
“Eh?” He grunted and then shook himself. “Sorry. What was that?”
“Your intent, sir? In having a picket, I understand you don't want people to trespass. But why a science station?”
“Because we haven't studied the Xenos. I went over what we have before and from Lemnos. Most of the Lemnos stuff is pure crap, most likely infected by that damn Wraith,” he grumbled. “Oh, some of it might be good but we can't trust it given the source and infection!” he threw one hand up in despair. “That planet is infected with what we know of as a Xeno viral outbreak. But it isn't showing signs of higher level intelligence. There is no guiding force there.”
“Ah.” Protector considered the problem and then nodded on the admiral's HUD. “I see your point, Admiral. If there had been a guiding intelligence, it would have had the nanites build a shipyard and ships. It eventually would have sucked up all of the resources in the star system and then moved on.”
“Exactly! So, we've got the enemy nanotech but no guiding force other than a set of instructions. Sprite said the nanotech that hit ET might have had more intelligence but I'm wondering how much.”
He frowned again.
“Ah. I see. Well, it is as you said a problem for scientists to explore. They'll have to be careful about it of course.”
“Damn straight!” the admiral said, coming out of his thought process with a nod. “And you are breaking me out of this train of thought …?”
“Because I am also your schedule keeper and we're beginning to run behind. That can have a snowball effect, and I know how you hate that.”
“Ah,” the admiral said as he resumed his seat. “Okay then. What's next on the agenda?”
~~~^~~~
Senator Avery Falconi sat back and considered his drink and prospects. Any day where the enemy was reeling from a blow and he was riding high, even if it was just because he wasn't under attack or having problems with other things, was a good day. And today, well, today was a good day. Even if the attack was mild, Avery thought as he swirled his drink.
He had leaked the information and put the reporter up to the attack as part of a quid pro quo. He knew it wouldn't be a death blow, just a nice uppercut, a weak one granted, but one that kept the enemy on their toes.
A death of a thousand cuts, damaging the admiral's reputation and tarnishing his image during a lull. It wouldn't help if he wanted to step into Irons shoes later he knew, but he could work around that if he was careful enough. If not, he could always find a puppet. In theory he could easily take the VP slot and play kingmaker.
He stared at the drink and then knocked it back before setting it on the table. “And who knows, I just might find myself on the winning side,” he murmured to himself as he rose out of his chair. “After all, stranger things have been known to happen,” he said with a smile as he went ov
er to stoke the fire with the poker.
Chapter 9
Dead Drop
Admiral Cyrano De Gaulte looked at his fleet and shook his head. On paper they looked invincible. He knew better.
Five dreadnoughts. Of which, only one was undamaged. Three squadrons of battle cruisers under Commodore Couglin, many of them damaged to various degrees.
He had two fleet carriers, two escort carriers. Each of them with scratch rebuilt wings of mixed craft. They were slowly getting things in order, but it was a constant headache he knew.
The late Commodore Rabideu's forces had been all but obliterated. He had three mixed cruiser squadrons as well as three tin-can squadrons left. The corvettes and frigates were barely a footnote.
It bothered him. It bothered him a lot when he was reminded of the carrier platforms they'd had as well as the other ships. The spreading ball of debris from the two destroyed dreadnoughts and six battle cruisers that had come to his rescue were a fixed reminder of the cost to save the star system.
But, save it they had. At great cost granted, but they'd kept it. They'd stubbornly held their ground. They'd spent weeks licking their wounds and patching what they could. They had many more weeks of the same, but he wasn't certain at all if they had that sort of time.
The recent shipment from the planet and orbital industry was as welcome as the precious two freighters that had come in from Garth. The resupply had been dragged out of the ships and the two turned around within hours of their arrival. He appreciated Captain Abernly. The captain had thrown together an orbital warehouse and sublight shipping to take in the freighters at the Garth jump point, empty them, refuel them, and then send them back as quickly as possible. The man might be a toad but he was getting things done.