Even Maia Peterson, who was well over a decade – not so far off one and a half decades – younger than Lee Carter, was starting to talk about children. And Carter, gruff tough guy though he appeared, wasn’t protesting the notion.
Meanwhile, however, something was happening in the Imperial City.
And in – and out – of the Sintaran Empire.
By the time the Peabody baby was born, hostilities were occurring between Sintar and the star kingdoms of Phalia and Garland.
And nobody but the Sintaran Navy and the Sintaran Emperor knew how Sintar was winning.
But they really wanted to find out.
The monarch of Garland was chatting with the Autarch of Annalia.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Gustav,” King James of Garland said, gesturing the Autarch into a comfortable, throne-like leather chair – at least, it would have been leather if it had been real. But the VR simulation was good enough that you really couldn’t tell. Once the Autarch was seated, the king seated himself.
“My pleasure, James,” Gustav Adolph, the Autarch of Annalia, replied. “What may I do for you?”
“Well, you know about those damnable little picket ships of Sintar’s...”
“Not personally, I’m afraid. Those seem to be rather newer than, ah, our most recent...skirmish...with what should have been Pannia, and wound up Sintar.”
“Oh, of course, of course. Sneaky bastards, aren’t they? Well, you’ve heard of their picket ships, though, right? You heard about that supposed freighter complete with escort, that took out a visiting ship? And then that white-eyed bastard emperor insisted on our releasing that lot of pirates, and forced my hand by killing my cousin?!”
“Your cousin?”
“The ranking officer of the destroyed flagship GSN Rampart! Admiral Peter James Schmitt Vorhees!”
“Ah, quite. His name had… slipped my mind,” the Autarch said smoothly. “I’ve… heard a few things, yes. Our intelligence is nothing if not thorough. Is there something you want to know?”
“Several somethings,” James grumbled. “What makes the damn things immune to fire, and why are their crews willing to suicide?”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to know why we can’t kill the damn things! We can see we’re hitting ‘em. But they just keep coming!”
“Mm. That is a good question, and I haven’t an answer for you at the moment. But the suicide remark...?” Adolph wondered.
“Oh. Well, if you haven’t seen ‘em in action, you probably don’t know. They attack mostly by ramming,” James explained. “They run head-on into one of your ships at an ungodly speed, punch through someplace near the engines, and as soon as the plasma vents inside your hull, you’re done.”
“Damnation!” Adolph exclaimed, shocked. “Now I understand. What kind of speeds?”
“We’ve had reports topping ten gravities of acceleration. Sort of hard to obtain those reports, to be sure, because not many of our ships tend to survive encounters.”
“Oh! I see. That’s a very high acceleration, if it’s true. But no, I think the most logical explanation for that is simply that these ships don’t even have crews. That would allow for the very high accelerations, as well as their ability to use them in that fashion.”
“You’re not saying...?”
“Yes, I am.”
“But robot ships are against every treaty and rule of engagement in the books! You know that history!”
“Can you think of a better explanation?”
King James pondered that for a moment.
“No. No, I can’t.” He shook his head. “Damn. We’re dealing with robot ships.”
“I should think it probable.”
“I’ve heard that from a couple of other sources, as well, to be honest. I just didn’t want to believe it.”
“I think it wise that you at least consider the possibility, James. My sources have indicated that is the most probable explanation.”
“But what about our inability to take ‘em out, Gustav?”
“That is more problematic, and my advisors tell me even as we speak that we do not know, either. And we need to do so. We must do so.”
“So you’re interested in finding out, too?”
“Oh, very much. Do you have an intelligence network established within Sintar already?”
“Not much of one, no. It’s a little hard to do, especially since that bastard emperor of theirs revamped all their bureaucratic institutions. By which I mean, blew them up.”
“Well, let me see what I can find out for you. We knew Sintar was up to something when they stopped buying warships, but the information was carefully compartmented in their organizations, and no one could get to them. Perhaps the plans of their newer picket ships will be more readily available now they are in operation.”
“That would be greatly appreciated if you can get your hands on those. You have a better developed intel network than we do, and Sintar isn’t likely to come after you because you have the DP literally backing you.”
Gustav Adolph laughed.
“Yes, we do, in more ways than one,” he agreed. “They are good friends of Annalia, the Democracy of Planets. Which means we will be sharing the intelligence with more than the two of us. You do not mind?”
“No. An ally of an ally is a friend, in my book.”
“Very good, then. Let me start my intelligence minister upon it, and I will let you know once there is anything to know.”
“Thank you very much, Gustav.” James rose from his own chair and came to the Autarch, shaking his hand.
“You’re more than welcome, James. We smaller star nations have to watch out for each other, after all.”
“We do, we do.”
And Adolph dropped out of the simulation.
King James thought for a moment, scowled, then dropped the channel.
The Autarch, seated on his throne, thought about the meeting he had just had for a long time. Finally he called his intelligence minister, Wilhelm Barron.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“What do we know about the new-build warships Sintar has?”
“Nothing, sire. No one seems to know.”
“What about the Democracy of Planets? Do they know anything?”
“You know how they are, sire. If they do know, they’re not saying. That said, from the reactions we’ve gotten to inquiries, I seriously doubt they know, either.”
“Well, we are going to find out. Contact your people on Carolina and see what they can dig up.”
“In the embassy, sire?”
“Of course in the embassy, Barron! Don’t be an imbecile! Are they not the point of contact for our Sintaran network?”
“Yes, sire, but not everyone is in the embassy…”
“Very well, then. Choose whoever you prefer, but I want to get the network started on the problem of these Sintaran new-build picket ships. Use the DP to assist, if you like, but I want the plans as soon as we can get our hands on them.”
“Yes, sire.”
Ashton was busy with the morning paperwork – principally shift reports from the previous evening – and preparing to see if there was anything in the case list to pique his interest when Director Carter pinged him.
“Nick, you busy?”
“Just winding up the shift reports, Lee.”
“Could you look in on Channel 28 for me, please?”
“Sure thing.”
Ashton dropped into VR channel 28 and found several people already there and waiting. This included Carter, ICPD Colonel Maia Peterson, ICPD Inspector Stefan Gorski, and Imperial Guard General Brian Daggert, with Imperial Guard Captain David Mercer.
“Well, at least I recognize all the faces,” Ashton murmured, wry. Everyone laughed except for General Daggert, who thought for a moment, then suddenly brightened.
“Aha! The Medved case,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Ashton said with a smile. “So, Lee, I’d ask what’s up,
but with Mercer back here, it’s bound to be another espionage case. Right?”
“Right,” Carter confirmed, “and it looks like this one is a little more organized than the previous ones have been.”
“And more far-reaching,” Daggert agreed. “Which is why we have the people here that we do. It’s going to take some effort to keep things out of the hands of the people who want them but shouldn’t have them, and we’ll have to coordinate amongst ourselves.”
“I see,” Ashton said. “Am I late into the ball game, or have the rest of you already been briefed?”
“No,” Daggert said. “We were just waiting for everyone to gather. Captain Mercer, would you begin the presentation, please…?”
And So It Begins
Nikolai Ariti sighed as the clock on the wall neared quitting time. He began to put away his work, placing the virtual files in a special saferoom within the confines of the Department of Defense Designs building in Imperial Park; the physical files went into a safe-style filing cabinet in his office.
Except for the virtual files that he copied into a special, hidden room he’d set up in VR.
Then he gathered his jacket and headed for the front door.
After he’d gotten well out of sight of the Defense complex, Ariti loosened up a little. It was the exit from the building, after all, that was most dangerous.
Subtly double-checking to ensure he wasn’t followed – at least by anybody he didn’t want following – Ariti headed for the Laughing Cat Pub.
The pub was exceptionally busy that night, but that was what Ariti wanted. The black-haired man with the olive complexion, striking golden-brown eyes, and neatly-trimmed beard eased his way through the crowd to the bar; finding a seat empty, he took it and ordered a glass of whiskey, chilled, neat.
Then he sat and waited, sipping the whiskey as he casually and somewhat absently people-watched.
After about ten minutes, a shapely blonde woman sat down beside him. She nodded briefly, courteously, as she did so, but then ordered a margarita from the bartender and said nothing to Ariti.
Except in VR.
“Do you have it, Nik?” she asked, as she appeared in the private channel reserved for their communications.
“When have I not?” Ariti replied. “It’s in the usual place.”
“The saferoom?”
“Yes.”
“Push it to me.”
The VR depicted Ariti moving to a wall in the nondescript room, turning the dial on a combination lock that suddenly appeared, and opening a human-sized safe door. He stepped inside, picked up a thick file folder on a plain table – the only piece of furniture in the room – then returning, where he handed it to the woman.
“There,” he said. “I assume I get the usual fee?”
“I’ve just deposited it in the special account.”
“Good. Are we finally done with this nonsense? I’ve been doing this shit for you for a good two years, now.”
“Yes. That’s all we want...for now. Next time, we’ll look at how to make it easier for you.”
“As big a pain in the ass as it’s been, I’m not sure there’s going to be a next time.”
“We’ll see. Meanwhile, I’ll ask one more time – won’t you come home with me, Nik?” Her avatar grew seductive, moving close and sliding hands over his shoulders. “You’re a very handsome man, and amazingly well built… so sexy…”
Ariti’s avatar didn’t even react.
“Nah, Betty, sorry.” He shrugged. “I’ll just sit here and wait for my husband, like usual. He should get off shift in about an hour.”
Betty grew annoyed, flushing in anger.
“Your loss.”
“Yeah, yeah. You say that every time. You haven’t seen Charlie’s muscles.”
And with that, she dropped out of the VR channel.
When Betty Conrad had finished her drink, she paid the tab in VR, then rose and headed for the door.
Once she was on the street, four separate bar denizens glanced at Ariti, who nodded. They rose and headed for the door as well.
Ariti then stood and headed for the men’s room at the back of the bar.
But instead of going into the restroom on the left, he ducked into what the local cops sometimes called ‘the backmost back room’ on the right. There, a man awaited him.
“Here we go, Nick,” Adrian Mott said, producing his makeup kit, as soon as Ariti closed the door. “Saw you check for me over your shoulder when you left the Defense building.”
“Yeah. I spotted you, too. Only because I knew what to look for.”
“Good. Here, now. Let me get that mess of makeup and hair off you.”
“Thanks, Adrian,” Ariti said. “I’m sure Cally would prefer me as Nick Ashton, and not Nik Ariti. Did we get Conrad?”
Mott paused in his work removing the disguise from Ashton, as his face blanked for a moment, then his expression returned. “They’re still following, waiting for her to transfer the data so they can trace it...there it went. Okay, yeah, they got her.”
“Good. Make sure Daggert’s people follow up on the whole ‘family tree’ so we get the entire spy ring,” Ashton ordered.
“Oh, they’re all over that one,” Mott averred. “Let me finish this, so you can go home to Cally and that toddler of yours, and we’ll see what the Guard has for us in the morning.”
“Right.”
Moments later, Detective Dominick Ashton slipped out the back door of the Laughing Cat Pub, headed home.
Ashton slipped quietly inside the front door of his condo, closing the door firmly behind him. Before he could fully turn around, he was ambushed.
“DA-DEEE!” the cry came from somewhere around his knees, which were abruptly taken captive, even as soft arms went around his neck.
“Nick!” Cally cried. “Oh, you’re home safe, honey!”
“Yep. Same old, same old,” Nick murmured, as he hugged and kissed his wife, then scooped up his toddler son.
“Is it over yet? Please tell me it’s finally over,” Cally demanded then.
“Yes, please,” Linda Ames, Cally’s mother, said, as she stood in the kitchen door, a smudge of flour on her shirt. “It is rather nerve-wracking.”
“Hush, Linda,” Alexandre Ames said softly. “Nick has to do what he has to do. He’s keeping us all safe, in the long run. If those spies got hold of real plans instead of Nick’s faked ones, there’s no telling what the hell will happen. There’s already been those incidents in the Phalia and Garland star nations. People are dead.”
“That’s my point, Alex! We don’t want one of them to be Nick!”
“A lot more people could end up dead if he didn’t do this,” a grim Alexandre said. Linda sighed.
“I know,” she murmured.
“Hey, guys, hold on,” Nick said, holding up one of his hands; the other still held little Paul, who had tucked his face into Nick’s neck and snuggled in. “This phase is definitely over, yes, and Mercer, Armbrand, Peabody and Stone picked up ‘Miss Betty’ – who came onto me one last time. Damn. She may be blonde, but it’s obviously from a home bottle job. Ugh.” He rolled his eyes. “We won’t know until in the morning whether or not we have to go into a Phase Two. I’m really hoping not. Or that somebody else can handle it, if we do.”
“Didn’t Jim Carson volunteer to take the point, if it came to Phase 2?” Cally asked.
“Yeah, he did. Which is why I’m really hoping I won’t have to. Hell, I’m really hoping they can nail everybody after this, without needing to go further.”
“What does Daggert think?”
“Dunno. He was in the ‘crowd’ in the pub, along with Lee and Maia, Win, Stefan, Rog, Mercer, and Pete… and I’m forgetting some folks – hell, our people were half the pub crowd! Anyhow, ‘Ariti’ headed for the men’s room in the back, and promptly disappeared.”
“Oh, right. So you didn’t get to talk to him.”
“No.”
“Well, let’s all hope for the bes
t, then,” Linda decided. “Good timing, Nick; dinner’s ready. Everybody, c’mon and let’s eat.”
That night, after everyone went to bed, Cally cuddled up to Nick and wrapped the covers around them both.
“Hey, honey, do you feel like talking for a minute, or are you too tired?”
“Sure, Cal. What’s up?”
“Well, you know, we’d discussed giving Paul a little sibling along about this age, and he was two last month…”
“Yeah, and from what I understand from fellow parent-colleagues, pretty damn well-behaved for the terrible twos.”
“I know. Which is good. He’s been an easygoing baby.”
“Yeah. But you’re right, we need to be thinking about providing him a sibling. I was an only, and so were you, and I dunno ‘bout you, but I always wanted a built-in playmate.”
“Yup. But Mom and Dad couldn’t. There were issues with just getting me here, from what they’ve told me.”
“Do you know why?”
“Something about an infection Mom had when she was younger, scarring the cervix and uterus, I had it to understand.”
“But you’re okay?”
“Yeah. The doctor confirms it.”
“Good. Okay, then what say let’s wait until we see how things shape up tomorrow? Then, if everything goes the way we hope, you can tell the nanites to ditch birth control, and we’ll start making a playmate for Paul tomorrow night…”
“That sounds good.” Cally leaned over and kissed him. “Meantime, feel like practicing?”
“Any time, sweetheart.”
“Hey, Nick,” Win Peabody greeted the Field and Investigative Lead as he entered IPD New Headquarters for the first time in weeks, clad spiffily in his dress uniform. “Damn, it’s good to see you in here again, buddy.”
“It’s good to be back in here, Win,” Ashton declared. “Never mind being able to get rid of the wig and beard and all that makeup. I feel like me again!”
EMPIRE: Imperial Detective Page 24
