by Chris Hechtl
Not that anyone wanted to do that. If they had the opportunity to go home and get away from the place, they did so without hesitation. Even if it meant facing a storm.
“Surprisingly good, ma'am. We've found another source of information hiding right under our nose,” Po Wytse McKinley answered, not looking up as he logged a piece of information.
“Oh?”
“We were picking up information during their interactions of course, but we can't monitor everything. We're going back as time and spare cycles permit to mine the scripts. But this is long-range information,” the tech explained, pointing to blinking lines of code and then to a window with text scrolling on it. Occasionally, it would stop and a word would be highlighted, then a bookmark would be applied.
“Okay, explain. Where are you getting this new mine of information and why didn't we pick up on it sooner?” Captain Lake drawled, crossing her arms.
The tech looked over his shoulder to her. “Sorry, ma'am. We noted that the prisoners gamble regularly. It is one way to act socially, and it passes the time. We thought the banter was a cover for plans to escape or something, but now we're looking at it directly. We still don't know how much of it is true, but we are seeing them betting holdings in other sectors.”
“Ah?”
“Yes. They have to put up something of value of course. We give them a lot so it's not much here. So, they are betting holdings and things they own in the empire.”
“Okay, that's odd. We're never letting them go. I mean a prisoner swap maybe, and they might get out in a decade or so after the war if we don't find any war crimes to tie them to. But …”
“Oh, we haven't disabused them of the idea of their winning the war. In fact, we've fed them some of the reverses in selective news releases to them.”
“Ah. And why … oh, to get them to lower their guard?”
“Yes, ma’am. To let them get overconfident.”
“I would have thought getting them overawed and thinking they are going to lose so they should throw in the towel is a better option.”
“We've tried that on island one, ma'am. Some fall to despair and suicide. It's an issue.”
“Oh. So, you decided to try a different approach with the senior leadership? Since they have the most valuable intelligence?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you think it is working?”
“They occasionally get arrogant. They've tried to threaten or bribe a guard. We rotate the guards now.”
“Ah. The guards are our people anyway. They know the real deal, right?”
“Yes. But one might get goaded into letting something slip so it's out of caution.”
“Ah.”
“And some of the guards do not like the club med coddling we're doing,” PO Leia interjected sourly.
Captain Lake looked at her but nodded in agreement. “I see.”
There was a long moment of silence. Finally, the captain sighed. “Unfortunately, they don't see. Sometimes you can get a lot more with honey than vinegar. They'll get to their final hot destination eventually.”
“Hot destination?” the PO's asked, looking at each other and then over their shoulders to her.
“Hell,” she said with a shrug.
“Oh,” Leia murmured and then nudged her partner to get back to work. He grunted and then did so.
“Back to the gambling, what we've learned is they are betting holdings, partial or entire holdings, plus equipment or money, lands … it doesn't matter.”
“And this helps us how?”
“Well, it is giving us a clearer picture of what worlds they've conquered in Sigma and abroad.”
“Ah,” the captain said as the light dawned. “You are getting coordinates and such? That's why Tao wanted me to drop by?”
“Exactly, ma'am,” PO Leia said excitedly. “See, they write down the bets on paper or plastic contracts. We're giving them smart paper of course, so anything they write down gets sent into the Wi-Fi for later analysis.”
“Ah.”
“These contracts are fascinating, though I'm not happy about the ones trading slaves, especially sex slaves.”
PO McKinley grimaced. “That's where I am wondering if they are pulling our legs. If they know we're monitoring them and are doing this as an elaborate charade. Sort of a counter intelligence sting, get us to think they are big and bad to over awe us and break our will.”
“Sort of a reversal? That would be a case of getting hoisted on our own petard, now wouldn't it?” Captain Lake asked rubbing her chin thoughtfully.
“Yes, ma’am, I suppose so.”
“So, Sigma, Pi …?”
“And beyond. It's spotty. They also barter materials they have in Horath. Equipment, mining rights, that sort of thing. Booty they call it.”
“Ah.”
“We're of course cross-checking everything to see what is and what isn't legit. We'll know more later.”
“Good.”
“We've found that the more they drink the more they talk and the crazier the bets get. That's why we've had to double the alcohol budget this quarter. We've taken a strict nonintervention stance on it since we don't want to compromise the source of material. But we can feed questions in later.”
The captain nodded. That was the way of the Latimer house, to monitor and observe but not compromise the system. “Understood. I hope you are intervening if there is a threat to life or limb however …?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. But we keep it in direct. We do a random search or visit. Or we inform the team there to be in an area or near a target. We'd like to let the target know they are a target, it might get them to come over to us and spill fully in order to get better protection. But …,” PO McKinley glanced at his partner.
The captain scowled. “There is too much of a risk of us being played. Remember, we're dealing with dangerous smart people. Some are politicians; they are used to playing the long game. Some are spooks themselves. Using their own people to expose a source is a common practice back in the day. If it means you sacrifice a flunky, some willingly do it.”
“Oh.”
“And remember, these people are sadistic as hell. We've got a lot of dirt on some of them, they weren't shy about video recording some of their … games,” Leia said with a grimace. “I wouldn't put it past any of them to do that to one another.”
“Yeah, so they could play them over and over again and jack off to them,” McKinley said darkly.
Leia shivered.
“Most likely. That sort of thing can be a self-perpetuating loop. We're not allowing it while they are in custody, so they have their memories, stories, and each other to fall back on. I honestly expected them to start in on each other sooner,” Captain Lake said matter of factly.
“It is a concern, ma'am,” Leia said. “You can tell a few are frustrated and it's building. A couple of them are mean drunks.”
“Watch them then,” the captain stated.
“I wish I didn't have to. But we'll do our duty, ma'am,” McKinley stated.
Jenna patted him on the shoulder. “Good.”
~~~^~~~
Prince Mason Ramichov remembered something his grandmother had said to him. “Lessons cost credits. Good ones are therefore expensive.”
It was true. She'd also warned him about gambling psychology, including the near-miss effect. Players get close to the goal, think that their luck is with them or that if they just try a little harder they'll win. So, they keep putting credits in, chasing the jackpot.
When he lost his last chip, he shook his head. “That's it for me.”
“Nothing more, Your Majesty?” Lieutenant Commander Casius Minor asked. He had turned into something of a card shark almost everyone had become wary of. Mason had thought that if he'd gotten the commander drunk enough the other man might have been ripe for the picking.
As the saying went, lessons cost credits. He'd just learned an expensive one; the commander had a hollow leg.
“
I'm going to go check out the news.”
“Anything more on the four horsemen?” the commander asked casually as he raked in his chips with one hand as he puffed on a stogie.
“Four horsemen?”
“Several of the four horsemen ride again,” the commander said as a marine lieutenant came over to take the prince's chair. “Ah, a fresh customer!” the commander said with a happy grin.
Mason shook his head as he walked away.
~~~^~~~
Captain Lake and a team of ONI psychologists fed Admiral Irons’ address about the turn in the war front as well as the Tau plagues to the prisoners. After that they allowed selected bits of news to the prisoners in order to get their reactions. Their loose talk was recorded. “They should call it Project Stimulate conversation,” the lead tech stated as the captain came by to check on things.
“I see it as chumming the waters myself.”
“Chum, ma'am?”
“I take it you've never been fishing? Deep sea fishing? Sharks?”
“Oh, ah, no.”
“Trust me, you experience a shark encounter and it will remind you of this lot.”
“Oh.”
“Back to the subject at hand.”
“Yes, ma’am. We hit pay dirt or think so. One of the prisoners muttered something. When another asked about it, he mentioned the four horsemen and then smirked.”
Captain Lake nodded slowly. One of the things lacking in the scripts were the physical interactions, the body ques, and language. A lot could be said with just a gesture she knew.
“Four horsemen. Now where have I heard that reference before?” she asked thoughtfully. She pulled a stylus out and went to a free screen and tapped the search bar and then looked it up.
“What did he say? Exactly?”
“Anything more on the four horsemen? And then, Several of the Four Horsemen ride again.”
An image appeared. Captain Lake leaned forward and then snapped her fingers. “That's it!” she said, pointing to the image.
“Conquest on a white horse, War on a red, famine on a black, and death on a pale horse. That's—not helping at all,” she frowned, wrinkling her nose.
The tech scanned the entry. “Obviously, we're in a war. And the Xeno war was considered by many as the apocalypse.”
“But we're still here.”
“Right, ma'am. Famine isn't right. Could they have something to kill plants?”
“Let's hope not,” the captain replied with a shiver. The tech looked up to her with a worried look, but she indicated they should read on.
He scrolled down to death but then backup to conquest. “Obviously they want to conquer … this has multiple entries. One is by the self-righteous. Oh, here we go, another allusion to Conquest is Pestilence.”
“Now I think we're getting somewhere. Fletcher. Search for anything about pestilence, project, or what have you,” the captain ordered.
“Yes, ma’am. I just set a bot loose now.”
“Good. We need more and right away. We need to pull this guy.”
The tech turned in concern. “Ma'am, if we pull him, we compromise the situation. They are relaxing and giving us information.”
“I realize that. But this is a situation where time matters.”
“Wait,” the tech said as she opened her mouth to issue the order. She closed it with a scowl. “Wait, ma'am. What if …?” the tech frowned thoughtfully. She tapped her hand impatiently. “What if we engineer a way to pull him without rising suspicion? A cover story I mean.”
“It'd have to be a good one.”
“I know,” the tech said ruefully.
“Testimony wouldn't work. They'd expect him back. A request for transfer would look weird, and if he gave us everything, they'd be pissed and clam up.”
“It has to be a spectacle, ma'am. Pity he couldn't trip and fall or something.”
“A medical situation. Yes,” she said with a slow nod as she patted him on the shoulder. “Good thinking. We can trigger his implants to not wake him up, right?”
“Um … we can write code to keep him under after he goes to bed. Or do you want him to have a public incident? A seizure might push it, ma'am. A fainting spell …,” he frowned.
“No, not waking up might work. We don't want him falling and chancing injury at this stage. No, we send someone in to check on him when he doesn't show up. They find him; we send in the medics and evacuate him right in front of everyone. The full court press with the gurney and medical team.”
“Are you thinking stroke or aneurysm, ma'am?”
“It'd almost have to be. Suicide might work too.”
“We can use that. If we kept it vague, they'd guess and talk.”
“Right. I'll alert Doctor Thornby. We'll need to chemically interrogate him to map his brain before we do a full strip.”
The tech stiffened. “A full strip?” he asked, eyes wide.
“They aren't the only one playing for keeps,” she said firmly. “We'll get everything we can through alternative methods, but this is too important to play around with. We'll strip him to bare atoms to get what we need. Count on it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a nod.
“I know it isn't everyone's cup of tea …”
“Ma'am, say no more. I've listened to these people for months, day in and day out. The shit they talk about doing, the sadism they inflicted on other people—I'm not going to cry any crocodile tears for them. Not in a million years.”
“Okay.”
~~~^~~~
Nara was not happy about the mind strip, nor her proposed role in it. “I gave an oath,” she said flatly as Captain Lake breached the subject.
“But you've bent or broken it before, ma'am. This is important. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't.”
“This is wrong,” Nara said with a shake of her head. None of the doctors on staff had volunteered to do the procedure. The last two that had done so had flat-out refused to do another and had threatened to resign if pressed to do so. It was tantamount to murder in many eyes.
“This is to prevent further injury to billions, ma'am—the greater good.”
Nara glared at her. “That's a slippery slope, Captain.”
Jenna inhaled and then exhaled slowly. “All right. Here is the deal. You monitor the situation. I'll do it,” Captain Lake said firmly.
“You?” Nara asked dubiously.
“Me. I'll follow the implants. The machines do most of the work. We map the brain, get him to think about the base matter to get a sync, then strip. We've already done multiple MRIs and GRIs on them so we've got that. This will finish what we started. You monitor the patient. If things go south before we get what we want, you step in and save him.”
“Very well. But you know once this is initiated, this is a one-way trip for him.”
“I know.”
~~~^~~~
The following morning the prisoners witnessed the patient being wheeled out. “What happened?” the prince asked as he came out of his room. “What's going on?”
“Nothing to see here,” a medical tech said. “Please make a hole, people; we need to get him to the hospital.”
“What happened?” the prince pressed, going over to look at Commander Minor. The man was out cold on the gurney, a face mask over his mouth. Equipment was piled around him, and an IV had been started.
The commander looked at him and then shrugged. “When he didn't show up for breakfast, I thought he was jogging or hung over. But when we didn't see him at lunch, someone asked a servant to check. We were supposed to have a game tonight and needed a fourth.”
“Oh.”
“They said it looks like a stroke,” another officer said. “Given how long he's been missing, the damage is probably extensive,” he said with a shake of his head. “I had a grandfather who went like that. The longer it takes to get treatment the more the damage. Don't bet on seeing him back here any time soon. If we do, he'll be a vegetable or paralyzed. I don't know why they don't
just put him out of his misery. Hell, put us all out of our misery,” he said, turning away.
The prince frowned but then walked off.
~~~^~~~
Admiral Yorgi Sienkov checked the latest status boards but his mind was elsewhere. When a fresh alert came in, he frowned and jumped on it. However, it wasn't what he was expecting. Instead of reading more about pestilence he was looking at an ONI alert for a ship called Cog.
“Fletcher …”
“Still no information, sir. The procedure was completed, but it is going to take weeks to process it all and home in on what we want.”
“Not that. I was about to ask about this alert about a ship. Cog?”
“Cog. Accessing … it is a civilian freighter. She came through from Tau. According to our information from Commodore Logan's courier, they had been hired to bring Puglia's SITREP to Airea 3. However, they didn't turn anything over to the picket there. We wanted to know why. We also wanted to know if they knew anything about the plagues or were a possible plague ship.”
“Ah.”
When the A.I. didn't say anything more for a moment, the admiral raised an eyebrow. “Anything more?”
“No, sir. Just questions. That is why we put the alert out to stop them and get answers. There is some suspicion about why they didn't give us the chips. An ensign speculated that they might be a Horathian spy ship.”
“Then I guess we need to find out. Approved.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Seriously weeks?”
“Yes, sir.”
Chapter 30
DD01ns
The arrival of the Protodon picket along with the battle cruiser, cruiser, and destroyer squadron, along with a light convoy of supplies that had already been in the pipeline in Dd01ns was a welcome sight to Second Fleet. Admiral White smiled politely as he noted the celebrations going on.
He sobered though when he heard the Veraxin's report. They had seen no sign of the two cruisers that had jumped to B-97. He shook his head.
“Great. Now we've got to run them down,” Garfield grumbled.
“Not necessarily. They could be waiting between here and B-95a3. I'll pass on orders to reinforce the picket there. We've got stronger convoy escorts. We'll just have to deal with it,” Admiral White stated.