Blockade

by Chris Hechtl

  Governor Jeff Randall felt his wife rub his back in support. He smiled slightly to her as he stood at the podium.

  In another two days, they'd be on their way. He and the other candidates for the VP position were being allowed to fly on couriers around the sector. He had a tight itinerary. If it all played out right, he'd manage a single loop in six months and return to the capital with a few days to spare before the Federation Election Day.

  Hopefully.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, this will be my last briefing as governor of Antigua. The vote has been decided. The swearing-in is tomorrow. My family and I will be moving on to the campaign trail as we embark on a new and exciting path that will hopefully lead to the Vice Presidency."

  "Onward to better and brighter things," a reporter in the front row murmured.

  "I'd say different things myself," Governor Randall stated. "I don't see many places better than Antigua. But the campaign trail will give us the opportunity to see some of those different places and people. We'll see what the future brings together," he said, smiling indulgently to his wife.

  -~~~///^\~~~-

  With the Admiralty scandal in the minds of the viewing public, Congress insisted on more oversight of discretionary spending and black programs. They insisted publicly that they would no longer give Admiral Irons a rubber stamp.

  Admiral Irons, however, put his own spin on things. He made it clear that they had to treat all of the information as classified and that they had to be cleared to be read-in. If they refused, they would not be briefed on intelligence grounds.

  "You expect us to rubber stamp everything? Right up until we're insolvent?" Senator Russell demanded in a closed-door meeting.

  "Not blindly, no. You've seen what I've done from before; you can take what I'm doing now on faith."

  "I'm sorry; we need to exercise our constitutional duty of oversight," Senator Merkoski stated. He wanted to know what was going on so he could best use it to his own advantage. Other congressional leaders nodded in support of his statement.

  "Very well, here is how it is going to go," the admiral said, all business. "If you are read-in, it means you get a briefing, a limited briefing but not your staff. You will have access to information, but you will not be able to copy it or take it home. Your implants will be monitoring you."

  Senator Mayfair's eyes narrowed. "So? Now you are threatening us?"

  Admiral Irons shook his head. He and Mayfair had a history going back to their time on Destiny. There was no love lost between them. "No, I'm informing you. If you leak the information or attempt to do so, your implants will block you and inform the authorities. That block could be … traumatizing," the admiral stated.

  "Block?"

  "As in your implants will knock you out," Captain Sprite stated flatly. The senator blinked, eyes wide. A few of the senators and congressmen reared back in alarm. The admiral nodded in support of the A.I.'s statement. "That is how it works. It is nonlethal unless you are doing something dangerous that threatens the safety of the Federation."

  "Ya’ll take your secrets seriously," Senator Russell drawled.

  "That we do," Admiral Irons stated with a nod to the New Texan.

  "It's not possible. Those terms are unacceptable," Senator Mayfair stated with a sniff.

  "Those terms are nonnegotiable." The admiral held up a restraining hand. "That's not set by me; it's set by the government ages ago. I can't and won't modify it. Take it or leave it. If you want a seat at the table, you play by house rules or not at all."

  The senator looked mulish. A few others did as well. Senator Russell looked thoughtful as he scratched at his cheek. He turned to Senator Merkoski.

  "You've played with fire before. I am aware that your staff has leaked some sensitive information. Here is where angels fear to tread. Here you can really get burned," Admiral Irons stated.

  "So what, we disappear? That will never fly," Senator Mayfair scoffed.

  "We are senators. You can't threaten us," Senator Merkoski stated.

  "Again, no one is above the law. This is the law. You'll be made fully aware of the consequences for breaking it. No one is above the law, even me. If Protector believes I am going to brief someone who will violate the law, there are consequences for me too. And no," the admiral turned to Senator Mayfair, "you won't disappear. You will be restrained, sequestered, investigated, and then arrested. You will most likely be tried and then sentenced while congress will strip you of your seat. Your staff, family, and anyone else you inform will be sequestered, interviewed, and then quite possibly arrested and so on too. So, the consequences for leaking material is felt by not just you."

  "We need to discuss this," Senator Merkoski stated, looking at the others.

  "Feel free. I will let you know that some projects will be coming to light within a few years anyway. But, if you wish to flex your constitutional muscles now, that's fine."

  The senator stared at him and then harrumphed.

  Admiral Irons snorted as he looked over to Senator Russell. "Some of you know I've been a champion of rebuilding the Federation. I am. I will continue to push for the Federation to be restored, either as it was or in a new form. I know it's a long haul, and I'm not going to stop or give up on that goal. Those who get in the way of that or think they can twist it to benefit themselves can … move," he said firmly, looking at Senator Mayfair. She flushed and looked away.

  Chapter 14

  Admiral Irons read the latest fighter proposal and then set it aside. He had nothing against the Patriot class; it was just a bit overpowered to go up against the Horathians.

  Of course, that could change in time. Something told him that the enemy didn't have many E-class fighters in their inventory. They certainly couldn't make anything that matched a Cobra in quality! Their Raptors weren't bad for a scratch-built ship if you discounted the short legs, horrible sensors, almost a complete lack of ECM or stealth, and a critical lack of shields. Their Cutlass class was only marginally better.

  He set the problem aside for the moment and checked on the latest ships. The new Freedom's Dawn class were very interesting. They had a lot of ship names already designated. Half of the first squadron would have names derived from Freedom this or that. Only when you got to the seventh ship, Voice of Tomorrow, did the names change.

  He had gotten news of Horatio's progress as well as the progress reports of others he kept tabs on every morning. So far so good.

  He hesitated and then looked at the eighth name proposal, the Renee Mayweather. He wasn't sure about it. Renee definitely deserved her own ship, but an SD? She'd always seemed a scalpel and battle cruiser type. It was unfortunate that they'd never get to see just how good she was in the wall of battle.

  He sat back and looked up.

  "Bored, sir?" Protector asked.

  "No, just thinking blue thoughts about lost friends. I need a distraction. What's up?"

  "Well, the Federation Historical Society is still trying to get its feet under them. They are making waves here in Antigua though; they are working in the courts and in the permitting offices to tie up some architecture and landmarks."

  The admiral reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. The government had its own entanglement with historical societies over the year. He admitted they served a purpose, but they could and did get in the way of progress.

  A building was intended to be used. The same for a ship, vehicle, or station, not enshrined. If they put everything in a museum, eventually they'd never have anything left to use! Besides, that would be a lot of museums! He understood why they fought tooth and nail for some things, but they did get a tad carried away with things from time to time.

  "Pass. As long as they aren't trying to get into Federal buildings or ships, I'm going to keep my hands clean."

  "Wise of you. They are looking for Federal funding," Protector stated.

  The admiral smiled. "Make sure you tie that request up in as much paperwork as you can," he said as he opened his eyes
.

  Protector snorted. "Fair's fair I suppose?"

  "Definitely. And make sure they have to jump through as many hoops as possible. And make sure they know there are strings attached, not grants. That way if they want to get sticky, they can go out and try to raise private funds and leave the taxpayer out of it."

  "Understood." The A.I.'s avatar cocked his head. "Feel better?"

  The admiral shrugged. "Not especially. What else do you have?"

  "Well, this one should be fun, the ITEU debate."

  "I didn't know there was one," the admiral stated warily. ITEU stood for the Interstellar Twenty-foot Equivalent Unit, a standard in interstellar and stellar shipping container sizes. The measurement was a holdover from ancient Terra.

  Shipping containers for all units from interstellar freighters to shuttles, trucks, rail, whatever needed to be standardized. There were of course the exceptions; those were called out of size for a reason. But the standard was required to allow a container to be moved through all ports and carriers without a problem. ITEU needed internal cargo lashings and in some cases special force emitters and inertial dampeners to handle various thrust conditions and environments.

  He still had no idea why they hadn't tidied up the imperial weight thing a long time ago.

  He scrubbed his face. Each had a dry and max weight listed on the side of the container in kilos. The container's radio tag also had the information as well as other data.

  "Dare I ask what the problem is?"

  "Well, first, cheap planetary-only versions have been hitting the market. Some are from Epsilon Triangula, some here in Antigua or made elsewhere. There have been problems. That's problem one."

  "So, they are locally certified but not ITEU?"

  "Yes but they are being labeled as ITEU."

  "Sounds like the IG's office needs to handle that one. Create two standards, planetary and ITEU. Let them hash it out."

  "They are working on it, but it got dragged into the Senate. Along the way a few of the senators noted the imperial measurement and decided to do some corrections."

  "It comes out to what, six meters?"

  "Six point zero nine six meters to be exact. Which is their problem. They want to round down and make it even."

  "Round down. So … what, just call them six meter?"

  "Oh, it gets better. Senator Potts suggested they build all new containers to that size."

  The admiral's mouth worked as he silently cursed the stupidity of the senator in question. "Does she understand what is involved?"

  "I don't believe so," Protector stated.

  "We're not just talking about just the containers. Everything that handles them would have to be re-engineered and rebuilt. Everything from container movers to the robots, to the tugs, grav lifts, cranes, terminals, rail lines, ships …," he groaned and closed his eyes as his mind tried to grapple with the list of things.

  "Correct. In space it would be as much as a major endeavor as on the ground."

  The admiral nodded. Grav lifts or rail lines were used to move containers in two or three dimensions. Some cargo stations had elevator lifts that could move a container along tracks in three dimensions. They were safer than using tugs or robots.

  "Not just … damn, even the reefers and special containers would get hit," he muttered. A reefer was an insulated container that had its own power supply and life support or stasis generator. They were apparently highly prized for their ability to tie into a space station's habitat.

  Many had been used as such in the dark times or had been stripped of parts when those parts had become scarce.

  "Is she involved with the makers of the equipment and containers?"

  "No." Protector put up a thumbnail image of the human woman. "Senator Alicia Potts is from Richalu and is new to the senate. She has allied herself with Senator Merkoski."

  "Ah. Him," the admiral drawled.

  "Yes. Senator Merkoski does have a minor tie to a shipping container factory on his homeworld. He's been slipping line items in various bills to help them. He's had his hand slapped once by the Senate Ethics Committee."

  "Lovely, so now he's putting her up to it?"

  "Possibly."

  "Okay, let's educate the senator before this gets out of hand. She doesn't understand sometimes the simplest things are the hardest to pull off. So, write an email with everything that would have to be changed and then the costs involved. Then give her that and the raw data, plus anyone else interested in the subject. Make sure the media gets a copy too."

  "Understood, Admiral. It will give her something to think about. It will most likely put a bit of egg on her face."

  "I think the senator should take it as a learning experience and be glad I'm pointing this out now instead of letting it get further along and have it really blow up in her face."

  "I think I'll leave that part out if you don't mind, Admiral."

  "It's self-evident but sure, why not."

  -~~~///^\~~~-

  "Did you see this? Did you see what that bastard did? He undercut me!" Senator Potts snarled, storming into Senator Opie Merkoski's inner sanctum.

  Senators Russell and Avery Falconi turned to her in surprise.

  "Oh!" The woman paused. "I didn't know you were having a meeting. Why wasn't I invited?"

  "Because you had a full schedule," Opie replied, ignoring her aggrieved tone of voice and brusque manner at barging in on them. "Since you are here, do you care to sit in?"

  "I … yes," she said, flopping into an empty seat as the Opie waved off his executive assistant.

  "It's okay."

  "She just brushed right past me, sir."

  "I know. We'll handle it," the senator replied, indicating she should close the door. Once the door softly snicked shut, he turned to his newest guest. "I am guessing you mean the email from Admiral Irons?"

  "Yes! It's all over the media too! I'm a laughing stock! Why did I listen to you?"

  "I think you heard but not the parts you needed to hear," Opie replied as he leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. "It was never going to fly. Your over-simplification on a very complex headache that would have been a disaster for the economy."

  "Then why didn't you warn me?"

  "Sometimes the burnt hand teaches best," Opie replied with an indifferent shrug. The real reason was a little more complicated than that. Admiral Irons was blunt, and it had been easy to manipulate the situation so he would show the rookie up. That made her something of an enemy to the admiral for the foreseeable future.

  "It would have been that bad?" Russell asked, playing with the brim of his Texan hat in his lap.

  "Oh yes," Averie replied. "Take it from me, it's not just the containers. Everything that touches them would have to be retrofitted or in some cases completely replaced. It would cost a mint and throw commerce into chaos."

  Alicia flushed. "I take it you didn't look into it before you threw the idea out there?" Averies asked, twisting the knife slightly. Her flush darkened.

  "No," she admitted. "It was an off-the-cuff remark that just grew. I thought it was a good idea to get it sorted out now before we get too big."

  "Everything built before the change would need special handling … it'd be a pain," Averies said with a shake of his head.

  "Let's chalk it up to a lesson in looking before we leap, shall we?" Opie suggested. "But, speaking of cargo, we were looking into the tax shelters for container terminals, space ports, and stations."

  "My constituents prefer the ground ones," Russell stated.

  "As do mine, but we have a growing number of stations in orbit," Averies stated. "They cost an enormous amount of start-up capital, so anything we can do to help the investors recoup their losses would be a boon to them and the economy," he stated.

  Opie nodded. Unlike Alicia he'd done a little research. Terminals of any type moved containers on and off a shuttle or ship. In space a large ship had to unstep her hyperdrive and dock. Once she did though, robotic arms or rail
s could shift loads in hours.

  Skywhales and smaller shuttles could move those containers up or down a gravity well. The new space elevator in Antigua also did the same for low priority freight. Every port worked twenty-four seven. Both ground and space ports had to deal with storms. On the ground it was mother nature; in space it was solar storms.

  As shipping picks up over the coming years, so will the economy. And everything had to be scanned by security to check for threats and smuggling.

  He had several industrial concerns back home interested in his careful stewardship of commerce and industry. His staff was even getting feelers from industrial concerns not on Hidoshi's World.

  "So?"

  "So, some want a bigger piece of the pie; some want their own hobby horse rode," Russell stated. "We're trying to find some middle ground, lil' lady," he said.

  "Ah," she said with a nod.

  "Middle ground usually means we can't please everyone," Averies stated. "Has anyone gotten the sims on how each bill proposal would work on the economy?"

  A.I. ran sims on bill proposals checking to see how much they would cost and what they would do over time. The forecasts helped sway some off the fence. Some of the senators refused to vote for anything until they saw those simulations.

  "We haven't nailed down the numbers yet. I'm hoping we can do three—a high, middle, and low road," Opie stated. "That way, everyone's happy."

  "The three bears?" Russell asked slyly.

  Opie snorted. "You know me well," he said.

  "Three bears?" Alicia asked.

  "Goldilocks," Averies stated. When her puzzled expression didn't clear, he fought not to roll his eyes in despair. "One is too hot, one is too cold, one is just right. We give them all options. They select the one they want while discarding the others. We then see where we stand and try to nudge people to the middle ground or to whatever one we prefer."

  "Exactly," Russell stated. "You missed that lesson?"

  "Not anymore apparently," Alicia stated. "I remember the line about throw-away material," she stated.

  The three men nodded. Many times a proposal was acceptable, but someone wanted to put their own stamp on it. So an author would toss in easily thrown-away points to allow them to be stripped out later as a negotiating tactic. They still got the core of what they wanted, which was what really mattered in the end.