"Aye, aye, ma'am."
"Any questions? Any suggestions?" Meg paused. There was no response. "Okay, crew, the Grand Admiral wants this solved and solved quickly. I want to know where those explosives came from if it is at all possible."
"Aye, aye," came across the net.
"Okay, we're ready to get this show on the road," Megan told those who shared the limo with her.
The five Iteeche exchanged glances.
Finally, Tom said, "That was quick."
"Pardon?" Meg answered
"You did not negotiate with anyone. You did not refer to historical precedent. No one suggested that you consider a different precedent or that a clan might not want you to do that."
Megan wondered if she was discovering another speed bump between the Human and Iteeche mindset.
"I am Commander Longknife. I outrank everyone in my task unit. I also report immediately to Grand Admiral Longknife, Imperial Admiral in command of the Emperor's Combined Fleet. I gave the orders. I asked for suggestions to improve them. I expect mine will be executed quickly. Baron of Security, will we have a problem working with your officers?"
"No," he said.
"Baron of Services, will you have people on scene that my people can work with?"
"I was told not to disturb the scene of the explosion. However, I do have workers standing by to begin solving this problem. However, I must tell you that water gushing out of aqueducts this size is not the gentle thing you splash on your face. This water hits you like a brick wall."
"I understand the strength of water in large doses and at high speeds," Megan said. "As soon as we have recovered any explosive residue that we can find, I will be eager for your work details to begin fixing what they can. You may find us very helpful."
The Iteeche didn't look very persuaded.
"Lily, get me Longknife 1."
"Yes, Megan, what can I do for you?" a small holograph of Kris said almost immediately. The Planetary Overlord was at her elbow and in the holograph.
The four Iteeche who had no experience of this sat bolt upright. If an Iteeche could smile, Tom was doing his best not to.
"I need a hydraulics engineer and a work group to assist some Iteeche in controlling the broken aqueducts. I'll also need Smart Metal, ah, magic metal, to patch the pipes and maybe spin together a couple of pumps to drain the underground."
"I'll have them on the next ferry. Everything going okay?"
"Nothing to report yet, Admiral. We're still a few minutes out from the scene of the explosion."
"Good idea calling for the hydraulics engineer. Call me if you need something or have something."
"Will do. Longknife 2 out," and she cut the line.
"Now you see," Tom said softly, "our lowly Navy officer can call down the world on your head."
The rest of the ride to the sabotage site was very quiet.
29
Lieutenant Commander Megan Longknife stood with her hands on her hips, observing the mess someone had made of this street. At least the street wasn't one of the rolling roads.
Thank God for small favors, but holy mother of God, what a mess.
The explosion had ripped up the street. It had fallen back into the hole, then flooded. Muddy water flowed down a low hill to collect in a shallow depression. That depression was rapidly filling up while flooding the bottom two floors of several apartment buildings. The unnamed lake, Lake 1, was about to overflow its banks. Excess water would soon be flooding into another, lower depression. The buildings at the bottom of that hill had businesses on their bottom floors. They might also have parking garages under them.
Megan needed to stop the flow of water, and fast.
"Lily, dispatch flitter quad choppers to check out the tunnels under this street as soon as someone gets a service hole cover off."
"I'm waiting, Commander." Lily wasn't usually that formal, but they were on stage in front of very class-conscious Iteeche.
"A cover is off. I've dispatched four flitters to it. I'll put flitters down every cover as it opens."
"Good, Lily. Anything on the explosive used?"
The Iteeche officials standing at her elbows perked up at that.
"We have taken samples of what looks like explosive residue, Commander. However, we have to test it to be sure. We are dealing with an area where harsh chemicals might well be present in daily use," Lily answered.
"Sorry, Lily. I'm anxious," Megan admitted.
"You apologize to your computer?" Tom asked. The Iteeche around him seemed just as interested in the answer.
"My computer is sentient. None of us like to be micromanaged."
"Micromanaged?" Tom's mouth struggled to get around the word. Apparently, there was no Iteeche translation.
Now I'm the alien.
"A good officer informs a subordinate of the ends desired, then delegates the authority to achieve those ends. Micromanaging is when a bad officer won't quit looking over the subordinates’ shoulder and keeps telling them how to do their job."
"Oh," Tom said. The answer dropped like a lead balloon.
"Commander, you might want to join the forensic team," Lily observed, helpfully. "They expect to soon have several samples of explosives through their field-testing devices."
Megan felt like a mommy duck leading her ducklings toward where Marines huddled over the ramp of a gun truck. There were several differences. These ducklings towered over her. Also, ducklings would have formed a line, single file. The Iteeche jostled each other, unable to agree on a pecking order. Tom followed with the governor and mayor, one on each shoulder. Meanwhile, the two barons couldn't decide who was senior, and finally ended up walking side by side.
"What do you have for me, Lieutenant?" Megan asked as she joined her forensic team a hundred meters back from the big hole in the ground. The sound of roaring water provided their background. It also smelled of mud with a hint of residual explosives.
The first lieutenant leading the forensic team looked to be a mustang. Most lieutenants barely needed to shave. This woman had the maturity to not even blink when a commander descended on her with a pack of well-dressed, and therefore high-ranking Iteeche. Definitely, she'd earned her sergeant's stripes before putting on officer's bars.
"All of our sample wipes showed evidence of strong chemicals," she told them. "We're about to get a full report of what are on the service covers. We also took some from the roof of the access passageways for the water pipes. They are likely to have fewer random chemicals."
A thin printout began to stream from a port on the machine that looked a lot like a whole batch of tiny microwave ovens. The printout stopped, was cut, and another printout began immediately. When a half dozen hung from the slot, the LT broke the last one off, then divided them all up.
"The chemicals at the top are listed in black," she explained. "They rarely go into explosives. The next list of chemicals is in yellow. They can be used in explosives, but they also have other uses. The bottom of the list is in red. If you find those suckers, somebody made a bomb."
At the bottom of all six lists showed five or six chemical compounds in glaring red.
"I think we have a winner," the LT said.
"And it is . . .?" Megan asked.
The LT scowled, "C-14. One of the most common explosives known to man. Apparently to Iteeche as well."
Megan turned to Tom. "In Human space, we require every manufacturer of explosives to include tags in the explosives. That way, if one is used illegally, we can trace it to the manufacturer and to which plant on what planet. Likely even the production batch. Do the Iteeche Empire have the same requirement?" Megan asked but even as she presented the question, she knew the answer would be no.
Tom shook his head. "How can you put something in an explosive that isn't destroyed in the explosion?"
Megan knew that Tom was asking a rhetorical question, but she answered it anyway. "We're looking for explosive residue. There's always some of the chemicals that don't get exploded
and miss out on the main event. That's what we've just tested. If this was made from Human manufactured explosives, we'd find a few taggants that had also missed out on the fun."
"Oh," was Tom's response. The rest of the Iteeche just stared blankly.
"Lieutenant, are there any taggants in this explosive residue?" Megan asked.
"No, Commander. I already ran one sample through, checking just for tags."
"Well," Megan said, with a sigh, "at least we know no one used Human C-14. So, where does that leave us?" she asked the mustang.
The LT shook her head. "Not a whole lot to go on. C-14 is your explosive of choice for a quite a few things, from military to construction to mining. It could have come from anywhere."
"How much would be needed to cause this much damage?"
"I hate to say this again, but hard to tell. Commander, we haven't gotten a look at the area around the explosion."
"Okay," Megan said, trying not to let exasperation into her voice. "More than a thimbleful, less than a truck load?"
"Oh, yes commander. Something at least the size of an average briefcase. I doubt if it was larger than a suitcase or backpack. A duffle bag would likely be too much."
"Mm," Megan muttered. That was helpful, and it did define the problem a bit better. She turned to Tom.
"Could you arrange for the local Iteeche security forces to re-question the locals? Did any of them see someone, likely well-dressed, looking out of place and carrying something between the size of a briefcase and a backpack?"
From the look on Tom's face, neither briefcase nor backpack translated well.
"Lily, give us an in-scale picture of a briefcase and backpack."
A holograph immediately appeared with an Iteeche holding a briefcase. On his back was a backpack.
"We don't have anything like that," Tom said. "Can you make it an over-the-shoulder satchel?"
A moment later, two Iteeche glowed, one with a small of the shoulder satchel, the other with a large, say ten kilo, haversack. That got the Iteeche's attention. The Baron of Security signaled for several uniformed people. They came running.
They and the baron talked in hushed tones, then the senior police officers took off running, no doubt to tell every beat cop to question people again. No radios here, the message could be hand carried down the chain of authority.
That was the Iteeche way.
Megan made a note of other Iteeche ways she was seeing today. The baron did not ask Lily to show the police officers what the satchels looked like in terms of size. She'd read somewhere that knowledge was power, and some societies required that it be husbanded out to the members of lesser status.
She suspected she was encountering such a society. She was not surprised, though it could complicate her job.
The Marine LT was still at Megan's elbow. "Ma'am, it's none of my business, but why is water still gushing out of this hole in the ground?"
"It hasn't been turned off?" Meg asked.
"Nope."
Megan sidled over to the Baron for Public Services. She'd gone through Tom to get the police moving on canvasing the locals. She'd suspect that it would go over better if an Iteeche gave the order. That had worked smoothly.
Asking a mere question of the baron of the water works didn't seem like it would put any noses out of joint.
"Has the water been turned off?" she asked the baron. Sugar wouldn't melt in her mouth.
He glanced around at his superiors. If Megan wasn't mistaken, this was what an Iteeche looked like who had been caught out.
"Yes, of course the water is now off," the Iteeche stammered.
"Are you sure, because my lieutenant tells me that there's still plenty of water gushing out of that hole in the ground."
"I ordered it be turned off. I was told it had been turned off," came out way too fast.
"Tom, could you arrange for me to talk to the supervisor of the workers who maintain this section of line?"
"Why would you want to do that?" he asked Megan. "It is beneath you. Why would you want to get your hands dirty? Besides, they are of the lowest class. If you talk to them, they'll start acting above their station."
Megan knew that she would need Jacques to unpack everything in that statement.
"Tom, I serve Grand Admiral Longknife who commands the Imperial Combined Fleet. She sent me to do a job, and I have no intention of reporting to her that I did not move heaven and earth to both find out who did this and get the people in this part of town water, electricity, and communications. Now, will you please point me in the direction of the men who do the actual work of keeping water flowing?"
Tom turned to the others.
WHAT'S HAPPENING, LILY?
THERE IS A GENERAL CONSENSUS THAT YOU HUMANS HAVE NO SENSE OF PROPRIETY, AREN'T BEHAVING LIKE A PROPER ITEECHE, AND HAVE NO CLASS. I GET THE GENERAL FEELING THAT THEY THINK YOU'RE A HICK FROM THE LOWEST CLASS LAST CHOSEN.
CAN'T PLEASE EVERYONE.
"Tom," Megan said.
"Yes."
"Your boss, the Planetary Overlord, is trying to negotiate a surrender with my boss, Grand Admiral Longknife, that will leave you and your associates here still running this planet. Do I understand that correctly?"
"I thought it was already signed."
"You thought wrong. Now, if this no-account hick from the lowest class, last chosen, makes a call to the admiral, your boss and all of you will be sent packing and we will install a leadership cadre more responsive to our questions and interests."
"You can't do that," the District Governor spat.
"Tom, you've seen me talk directly to the Grand Admiral with your boss standing at her elbow."
A half dozen Iteeche seemed locked in indecision. They'd clearly decided that Megan was a minor flunky they could ignore. Meg gave them five seconds to change their opinion, but they held on tightly to it.
"Longknife 1, this is Longknife 2. We seem to have a problem down here."
"Longknife 1 here. What seems to be the problem?"
A holograph of Kris and the Planetary Overlord appeared between Megan and the six officious Iteeche.
"First question. Has the surrender treaty been finalized yet?"
"No. I'm waiting for the results of your investigation. Do I have a rebellion on my hands or something else?"
"Longknife 2 here. Sorry, I can't answer that question. However, I've run into a different problem. It seems that high ranking Iteeche don't sully their hands talking to low-born workers. I'm being told that the water's been turned off, but the water's still flowing. I need to talk to the guys who do the job."
"For all the dark fates and their sharp fingers, Tom, do what this woman says. If I am still Overlord of this Planet tomorrow, I'll sack the lot of you and replace you with pond scum. Understood?"
"To hear is to obey," Tom sputtered.
"Longknife 2 out."
"Longknife 1 out."
Megan turned to the six. "Who do I talk to?"
Her question was punctuated by the boom of one huge explosion.
30
"What was that?" wasn't helpful, but it came from all six Iteeche.
"LT, do you have drones up?"
"Yes, ma'am," the mustang sounded off. A Gunny Sergeant held a thin battle board where both of them could see it. Megan joined them to make it a trio.
A building down the second hill where Lake 2 was filling, had blown up. It was toppling over, into the building next to it. Both were fully involved in flames. It looked like flaming wreckage was sparking fires in four other buildings.
"More sabotage?" Tom spat. "We must see that the perpetrator makes a Full and Most Sincere Apology to the Emperor."
Having stood at attention through one such mass apology in the Imperial Presence, Megan was not interested in doing it a second time. It had involved poisonous snakes and ax wielders taking heads off only after the most excruciating pain was about to end.
"May I strongly suggest that you get some fire fighters down there to keep it f
rom spreading, assuming you have any water pressure to use?" Megan snapped.
The six very senior Iteeche just stared at each other. Clearly, Megan had asked them a question that was way below their pay grade. Apparently, as in the capital, firefighting was something provided by each clan for their own buildings.
Shaking her head, Megan turned back to the reason she was here. "Who maintains the water pipes here?"
All the other Iteeche turned to the Baron for Public Services. He looked for all the world like a deer caught in the headlights of a hundred-thousand-ton starship.
One of the Marines trotted up to Megan.
"Ma'am, my sergeant isn't sure, but he thinks he's found a water manager. Our translation app isn't the best, but he told me to tell you."
"Thanks, Corporal," Megan said, and followed him back toward a group where a few Marines were talking to three Iteeche in work clothes while a dozen more Iteeche in worse work clothes waited nearby.
Megan joined the corporal jogging back to his sergeant. She noticed that the high ranking Iteeche chose to stay put. That was fine with her.
She made sure to block the view of these supervisors from the head high muckety-mucks with herself and the corporal's body.
"Can you tell me why the water has not been turned off?" she asked without preamble.
The three Iteeche kind of cringed inward and if a seven-foot tall Iteeche could manage it, make themselves small.
"We were asked to turn off the water at the next valve up for both the water aqueducts," one of them said. "However, in both cases, that valve has been frozen in place for years and we're afraid that if we break it loose, the entire valve could shatter in our hands and we'd have another flood. This time, one we caused."
Megan had learned that lower class Iteeche lived from hand-to-mouth. If they lost their job, they, and anyone dependent on them, starved to death.
"Can you turn it off at the next valve up stream?" Megan asked, doing her best to sound reasonable.
"His Lordship of the Water System said that we would be taking water away from too many buildings. It was better to just let the water flow."
Kris Longknife Stalwart Page 21
