by Chris Hechtl
“You've swept the room?” Jules asked. He snorted. “Of course you have,” he said as he took his seat.
“Nerves?” Admiral Draken asked, eyeing the man.
Jules shrugged. “Something like that I suppose.”
“It's too late to back out now,” Mrs. Childress growled. “Grow a pair, Jules.”
“Cute.”
“I could give you one of my sets from my trophy room. I've got so many,” the old woman said. She cackled at his dyspeptic expression. “Oh, lighten up. I only eat small babies, not wimps like you,” she said, waving a wrinkled hand.
Mrs. Reba Childress, the matriarch of Childress Shipwrights was an imposing woman despite her advanced age. She'd undergone a series of treatments throughout her life to prolong her red haired beauty and maintain and extend her life expectancy. She was quite careful to maintain a healthy life style and diet and was quite good at finding ways to eliminate stress.
Usually by eliminating the thing that caused the stress in some nasty way. One that gave her some pleasure in the process.
“Cute,” Jules replied again as he seated himself.
Most people in the public knew that backdoor dealings took place. It was an open secret of a practice that wasn't technically supposed to take place. But the people in the room were too powerful to have their hand slapped. Besides, they believed that what they did was for the best of the business. No one wanted an open war; it was bad for business after all. Well, no one but their Veraxin colleague, but he was careful about which fights he picked and with whom he picked them with.
Usually the meetings were about a product or opening technology or setting prices so they didn't undercut each other too much and spark the war they wanted to avoid. Sometimes it was to get together and on the same page to take on a problem in government.
They were the true movers and shakers in the industries they represented. And all of them didn't want to admit it, but they were scared that the president's plan to scale back the fleet, especially growth in their own fields, would have had major impact to their coffers, not to mention their power base and the thousands of people that would have been out of work.
But they didn't want to sign on to Admiral Irons' plan either. That way led to their inevitable loss of power as well. It also represented anathema technology that they had all agreed to ban. So, they chose a third path promised by Admiral Childress.
Within the splendidly decorated den were the central group backing the admiral. None were interested in labeling their cliché, nor were they interested in advertising or recruiting. They had the people they wanted, and if they wanted more, well, they'd find a way to recruit them to their cause.
“So you two are still settling in at the Admiralty. It's a pity that blasted ship had to arrive when she did,” Mrs. Childress said, shaking her head.
Admiral Omar Childress nodded politely. “It wasn't something any of us planned for. But her arrival was the distraction I needed to make my final push,” he said.
“And you are still consolidating your power base?” his mother asked.
He nodded. “We had a list of who we wanted or had in our pockets,” he said, glancing at his fellow flag officer. Admiral Draken nodded in support. “But now we're weeding out the others.”
“It's not so much the people who overtly oppose us that we worry about. They will take themselves out of the equation by their own mouth and actions. It's the ones that say yes and then wait in the shadows with the sharpened knives,” the Chimeran flag officer stated.
“Exactly. We're also dealing with time lag,” Omar admitted. “Orders are still going out to the ships, bases, and stations all over Bek A and B. It will take three weeks to get orders to Bek B and then another three to get an acknowledgment,” he admitted with a grimace.
“So, as you said before, these things take time. Pity you didn't set everything up in advance,” his mother said snidely.
“The opportunity didn't come up. When it did we seized it,” Omar said, clearly nettled by her accusation. “What's the old expression? You snooze you lose?” he asked.
“True. Pity you didn't have enough of the antigeriatric treatments for others,” she said nastily.
He smiled. He could tell she didn't like the smile. He didn't know she was actually amused by it. “They were for military personnel only,” he said, spreading his hands apart. He caught himself before he knocked Jule's drink out of the man's hands. “Oops, sorry,” he said.
“Not a problem,” the CNC CEO said, checking his lapel and brushing it off to make certain nothing had been spilled.
“I'll be honest; I initially considered bringing Commodore Logan in,” Admiral Draken said. “That didn't last, however, even a cursorily look at his record told me he is a man of principle and honor. A go getter, one dedicated to the Federation and Admiral Irons vision for it.” He paused to take a sip of his drink before he put it down. “That and since he'd want something like getting the yard done in exchange for his support …”
“And we don't want that,” Jules interjected.
“No,” Admiral Draken said, glancing at the man. “It would mean giving in almost totally to Admiral Irons' plans since everything is intertwined. It would also mean turning most of the shipbuilding over to the navy itself,” he went on. “Which we wish to avoid,” he said with a head bow to Mrs. Childress. The red-haired woman's eyes narrowed. She nodded slightly in response. “Besides, we don't know the man except by reputation. He's a go getter, not a team player.”
“By team player, you mean our team,” Ch'k'n'll stated. The Veraxin was quite the mover and shaker in the market. He'd risen through the ranks of several companies, not really showing any loyalty to them if it suited his own purposes and career path. He'd performed a recent hostile takeover of Snipclick, a former T'clock company that had supplied hardware and supplies to both the military and many civilian space outfits. He'd done it by undercutting their prices, then when they'd teetered near insolvency in an attempt to keep up he'd moved in and taken over, buying or blackmailing the board into the merger. His orchestration of the forced merger had been exquisitely handled. His competitors had admired his timing and ruthlessness, but they had become less sanguine about the situation when he'd double the prices of certain products.
He'd managed to stall or hold off a formal inquiry from the government with the help of his army of lobbyists and super PAC donations to certain powerful people who needed help with their elections.
One of those people was Senator Lars Thurgunsson. The elderly statesman was bought and in his pocket … for the moment.
Even though, from the look of the senator's thermal profile he wasn't as comfortable with the company they were keeping as his visible expression said.
“Exactly. He's a firebrand, quiet, but someone who plays by the book,” Senator Thurgunsson said, spreading one hand apart while holding his glass.
“You don't like what he did in Pyrax,” Mrs. Childress said. She eyed her son. “Which you used to break with the president I understand,” she said.
He nodded. “It worked.”
“What about Zekowitz?” Jules asked, toying with his glass. Jules Fabian was the CEO of Fabian CNC machines. He'd risen through the family ranks and cutthroat internal politics to take the helm of their family's company over a decade ago. He was quite photogenic, smooth, and very much aware of the dangers of modern tech, especially fabricators getting out into the public. A situation he and his family very much wanted to avoid at all costs.
“Zek knows his days are numbered. He'll lay low,” Admiral Childress said with a shake of his head. “He knows the system and the way it's played.”
Jules Fabian frowned then nodded. “Okay, you are saying he'll play ball or at least lay low. So we can slot him in where we want. Setting the thorny issue of the commodore aside for the moment …”
“Could we demote him?” Admiral Draken asked. “You know, knock him back to captain, let's say? According to what we know about hi
m he's never had a true fleet command …”
“Let's not cause any more problems for ourselves than we have to,” Mrs. Childress said.
Admiral Draken eyed her. “What's that supposed to mean?”
The old woman shot him her own trademark basilisk look. “It means, eventually, this is all going to get back to Irons. When it does, he's going to act. We aren't sure how.”
Jules frowned. “He can't do much …”
That was too much for the Childress matriarch. She turned to snap at the CNC CEO. “Are you that stupid enough to really think an enemy will dance to one tune? To slavishly follow one plan?” she demanded in exasperation.
“If we're lucky, he'll write us off or take what he can get,” Senator Thurgunsson said. “Investing too much into us will just be throwing credits away he needs for his war with the pirates at this point. How much can he afford to lose?”
“True. But I don't count on luck. We need to plan—contingency plan in other words. We know the timetable for this ansible. We can deal with it. For the moment we need to continue to consolidate our power base within the navy and industry,” Mrs. Childress stated, shooting her son a moderate reproving look.
Her son nodded grudgingly. “Agreed.” He managed to hang onto his temper and not lash out at the old battleaxe.
“I can't believe we're considering Irons of all people the enemy,” Jules said with a shake of his head.
“Believe it. If he's not on our side, and judging from these orders he definitely isn't, then we have to consider him the enemy. And as I was saying before,” Mrs. Childress said as she gave Jules a significant look, “no plan survives contact with the enemy so we better be prepared for that fact.”
“True,” Jules agreed reluctantly. “I still don't see how he can affect things here,” he said doggedly.
“I know. We don't see it, but he might see something else,” Mrs. Childress said. She picked up her cup and took a sip, then set it back down again. Due to her age she had stopped drinking alcohol years ago. But she flat-out refused to give up her collection of teas.
“The only move I see him pulling is sending Yorgi here,” Admiral Childress said thoughtfully as he looked up and away from the group. “But I outrank him,” he said smugly, eyes turning to the group.
“As you are now, yes,” Admiral Draken pointed out.
“Yes, because he took a demotion to vice admiral,” Senator Thurgunsson said, “when he gave up the CNO slot here.”
“And if he promotes Admiral Sienkov? To say fleet admiral?” Mrs. Childress asked, eyeing them.
Admiral Childress flushed at that idea. He could tell from the sudden quiet and expressions of the others around the room that he wasn't the only one.
“Would he do that?” Jules finally asked.
“We don't know. It is something we'll have to keep aware of in our planning,” Admiral Draken said slowly. He shot a look at Admiral Childress.
“True,” Omar admitted with a tight nod. “We need to keep word from getting back to him for as long as possible,” he said. The others grimaced. “It's one thing to get rumors or such from the crew. It's another thing to get a missive from the president, which is why we're blocking them.”
“Good point, stall. The longer the better at this point. Which means we need to separate the passengers from the ship as quickly and cleanly as possible. Have ONI watch them and find a way to keep them busy.”
“Which won't be easy since they will expect to be put to work,” Admiral Draken said.
“We can fix that,” Admiral Childress replied with a brief smile. His ops officer eyed him. He shrugged. “We just put them to work where we want,” he pointed out with a shrug.
“If we're lucky something will happen to that ship. Her blessings from Lady Luck can't last forever,” Jules growled.
“Don't count on it,” Lars murmured. He used his lifetime in politics to hide his dismay at their direction.
There was another long silence. Several of their members took the opportunity to drink the last of their drinks, then get a refill. Once they were settled down again, Jules shook his head. “Well, now that you've rained on everyone's parade and grounded us, let's look at the others. I see you let BuPers sign off on the navigational instructor …,” he said. “Can we slot some of the others there?”
Omar grimaced, jaw flexing. He didn't like the civilian knowing his navy's business so intimately. But saying so wouldn't be wise at this point.
“I think so,” Admiral Draken said slowly, covering for his boss. He glanced at Admiral Childress. “Obviously, we're going to have to go over their records and discuss the situation. Bat it around a few times. We don't want them all in one place. Not that they can do much.”
“True. But they can make waves. We also need to keep them out of the media. We don't need or want bitter grapes making its way to the public. We want to keep everything nice and calm.”
“Especially while Caroline is still in the star system. Our friends in the media can help. It will cost us some favors, but …,” Mrs. Childress grimaced but then shrugged. “We'll do what we can.”
“Agreed. We'll go over the others one at a time and place them where they will stay out of trouble.”
“And the civilians?” Jules asked, raising an eyebrow in inquiry.
Admiral Childress sniffed. “Them we can cut loose.”
“I think we can find positions for them,” Mrs. Childress murmured. All eyes turned to her. “Slot them into R&D teams. Give them a nice chunk of change for pay, some perks, and then let them spin their wheels there. Let them know their paycheck is commensurate on their being quiet.”
“Giving a few of them a free vacation might help. I hear a lot of those are flooding in. People want to see them and such,” Lars suggested.
“But those come with strings we want to avoid—like spots in the media.”
“If we steer it right …,” Lars suggested. “But I agree, paying them off might help. If you don't, they'll go to your competitors and then …,” he made a poof motion with one hand.
“Not good,” Ch'k'n'll agreed.
Jules nodded slowly. “I don't like paying them off but that might work. If they learn to play ball, we might use them,” he agreed. The others reluctantly nodded.
“Okay, so that leaves the plan to divvy up the goods from Caroline. We have a manifest. We obviously can't transfer anything out of the military control. Not after what we found out with some of the hardware from last time,” Admiral Draken said with a sniff.
He was referring to the regrettable incident where an industrial replicator had been traded to Fabian CNC industries. They had tried to take the device apart to see how it worked and had triggered its self-destruct. A panic had ensued initially when the thing had melted down. They'd gotten a lid on the employees with a combination of threats of violating their Nondisclosure Agreements and some minor bonuses, but it hadn't been easy.
“I thought you had the security situation handled?” Mrs. Childress demanded.
“So did we. We don't have implants though, so we can't shut the damn things off. They are hardwired to work only with military personnel,” Admiral Draken said with a shake of his head. “And even if you shut them off they will pop back on the moment someone unjacks. And if you try to take them apart, they can still go boom.”
“So passing them to us to study will do no good. They'll just fry,” Ch'k'n'll stated, signaling second-degree relief mixed with third-degree regret.
“Which isn't necessarily such a bad thing,” Jules said in agreement as he eyed the bug.
“True,” Mrs. Childress agreed. “But triggering them deliberately would take them off the table for everyone,” she suggested coyly.
Admiral Draken eyed her. “I'd prefer not to throw away a potential asset if I don't have to, thank you. Especially one that costs a pretty credit and is highly limited here.”
“Agreed,” Admiral Childress stated, ignoring the narrowed eyes of his mother. She'd get over
it he thought. “For the moment we can divvy up the civilian cargo to you. The rest we'll keep,” he said, glancing at Admiral Draken. The ops officer nodded.
“It isn't an optimal situation, but it is what works I suppose,” Mrs. Childress said, with a grimace. “I'd like to eventually find a way to unlock that hardware,” she said.
“Not all of it, thank you. The replicators can stay locked up as far as I'm concerned,” Jules said with a shudder.
Mrs. Childress eyed him in slightly veiled contempt before she sniffed and looked away.
“I'll get you each a copy of the manifest,” Admiral Draken said, “including copies of the manuals. You can work from them I believe?” he suggested.
All three CEOs nodded or signaled assent slowly. They glanced at one another. “I think the manuals will be better in many ways than the hardware. We can recreate a lot from them, and the equipment and how it works will be explained.”
“You obviously haven't read many manuals then,” Admiral Childress said dryly. His mother sniffed at his sense of humor but didn't rise to the bait.
~<><{<^>}><>~
“So, at least we know who some of the players are,” the president said. He was gratified that none of his cabinet were in the conspiracy, though he knew some would gladly sell their mothers to switch sides if it looked like his presidency was sinking. They were also aware through the AG's office surveillance of the meeting place that Lars was playing both sides.
L'r'kk was not at all happy about the duplicity of their supposed ally. Nor was he shy about pointing out the obvious response. “We need to cut him out of our innermost thought processes, sir.”
“He'll notice it. It will drive him further into their camp,” the president responded.
“Yes sir, I'm aware of that. But if we keep him with us he'll just continue to pass on what we know and our plans over to them.”
“Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer,” Raphael stated. “I don't honestly see many people having true friends in politics.”
“If you do you are naive,” L'r'kk agreed. “Lars is a politician through and through. He's trying to reestablish his power base. He'll look after his own interests first and foremost, which is usually whatever his biggest backers want at the time,” L'r'kk said scathingly.