by Neal Jones
"My gods," Ilkara murmured.
Gabriel nodded, echoing her sentiment. "Their government has done an excellent job of keeping that a secret," he marveled.
"Yes," Varis agreed.
"Is it possible that Jolan is lying?" Ilkara wondered. "He could be feeding you false intelligence, knowing that you'll pass it on to Admiral Hazen."
"What would he have to gain by lying about something like this?" Gabriel countered.
"I had considered that." Varis glanced at the commodore. "The advantage would be deception. The Federation would perceive a weakness in their enemy where none actually exists. It would cause us to misdirect our attention and it would be an excellent ploy if the Jha'Drok were, in fact, rebuilding some kind of an assault fleet." She leaned back, tapping one finger idly on the arm of her chair. "The only problem with that theory is that Jolan has no reason to lie anymore. He's an outlaw and an outcast. He's the one responsible for destroying the assault legion five months ago. He has no motive left to lie about something like this. It just doesn't make sense."
"Is there medical data included with his report?" Ilkara asked.
"Yes, but it's not a very large file. From the way he wrote the report, it suggests to me that he was gathering all this information covertly. He never says so directly, but the implication is that this epidemic isn't a natural one. He believes that someone – or some group – is behind it."
"Someone within the government?"
Varis shook her head. "He doesn't say. The most he was able to gather is what's in the medical file."
Ilkara turned to Gabriel. "Could we trust Doctor Rosenberg with this information?"
The commodore shook his head. "I couldn't do that without consulting Hazen first. Besides that, this isn't our problem. Varis' assignment was to simply gather intelligence and pass it on to me so I could give it to Hazen. It's up to him to decide what to do with all this."
"What exactly is Admiral Hazen's role in this?" Ilkara asked, puzzled. "I thought he was a vice admiral. What is his connection to FCI?"
"That's a very good question. But my job is just to follow orders. I don't ask questions." Gabriel stood, signaling an end to the meeting. He deactivated the door lock.
"As far as I know," Varis said, rising, "Hazen has no connection to Central Intelligence. I honored his request, commodore. My liaison at the home office has no knowledge of this mission."
"Thank you, brantar."
"However," she continued, "I do need to hand over Jolan's report. The intelligence he provided me is too valuable to ignore. It's possible the directors back home already know about some of it – like the syndrome affecting the female population – but it's also possible that they may not. If that's the case, they need to know as soon as possible."
"I figured as much," Gabriel agreed. "I assume you'll find a way to do it without revealing the fact that we kept two Jha'Drok defectors on this station for the past few months?"
"Yes, sir." She nodded curtly before leaving the office.
Gabriel stared down at his desk, lost in thought, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.
Ilkara stood. "Commodore?"
"Yes? Oh, sorry. Was there something else?"
"It bothers you, doesn't it? Admiral Hazen, I mean. You've never been responsible for this type of mission before?"
He shook his head. "No. And yes, it does bother me." He sighed and waved a hand dismissively. "Then again, there's a lot of responsibilities that have come with this new posting that I was never prepared for. Commanding a starbase – especially one in a neutral zone like this – is very different from a starship." He sat and began organizing the piles of paperwork in the middle of his desk. "By the way, I like your new appearance. It suits you."
She smiled. "Thank you, commodore."
"Call me, Marc."
"Very well." The Erayan turned to go.
"Are you settling in all right?"
She paused, glancing back over her shoulder. "I am. Thank you for asking."
"You're welcome."
After Ilkara was gone Gabriel shut off the anti-surveillance field and stared at the stack of paperwork next to his terminal. On the computer screen was Varis' report, and the commodore accessed the attached file that was Jolan's statements. He scrolled through the narrative until he found the medical file, and he opened it. The senator had not bothered to translate the data into laymen's terms, and Gabriel quickly gave up trying to sift through the jargon. It was mostly copies of patients' charts, with doctor's notes scrawled in the margins or attached as memos. Jolan's conclusions, however, were plainly clear. He had gathered enough data to determine that the birth rate among all Jha'Drok females – no matter rich or poor, royalty, middle class, or peasant – was dropping significantly with each successive generation. Varis was right. Within three centuries, maybe four if they were lucky, the Jha'Drok people would be utterly extinct.
Marc opened his top left drawer and pulled out a baseball. Now that he was almost two weeks sober, he had needed an idle task to keep his hands busy when he was taking break from his work; or, like now, when he needed to ruminate on a problem. Breaking the habit of reaching for the liquor bottle had been difficult at first, especially since he'd forgotten all about the quart of Scotch buried in the back of the bottommost right hand drawer. But this was his fourth day back at work after completing the forced medical leave Ben had prescribed him, and that bottle had been disposed of via the reclamator on his first morning back in this office. That same afternoon he had bought the baseball from a sports memorabilia shop on the promenade during lunch. Seeing it displayed in the window had sparked an old memory of one of his more eccentric professors back at the academy. McColson had been pushing ninety when he taught military history during Marc's sophomore year, but he had managed to turn an otherwise dry and somewhat dull subject into a game by tossing a baseball into the audience at random intervals during his long-winded lectures. Whoever caught it had to answer a question for extra credit. The query usually regarded some obscure but surprising fact about a well known general or an admiral or a military dictator from Earth's history. One never knew when the well-worn ball would come flying through the air, and Marc had been caught off guard more than once. He'd ended up learning a great deal, however, in a subject that he otherwise would have barely passed with a "C" average, simply because of McColson's offbeat manner and eccentric teaching style.
Gabriel turned away from his desk and bounced the ball against the floor at such an angle that would cause it to bounce off the wall and back to him. It wasn't what Jolan had said in his report about the medical crisis that worried the commodore, so much as what he hadn't said. If the epidemic had been affecting the female population for over eighty years now, with a quarter of each generation unable to bear children, surely that would have generated alarm from the general public by now. Doctors and specialists on the homeworld would be teaming up with local and international authorities to investigate the syndrome, if only because the women themselves would be demanding answers. And surely those investigations would have caught the attention of intra-empire news feeds, at which point, FCI's expert analysts would have been able to snag those broadcasts from spy satellites and probe networks on the Federation side of the Jha'Drok border.
Which, of course, didn't necessarily mean that all of that hadn't already happened at some point in the last few decades. Still, the commodore mused, chucking the baseball against the wall, if that whole process has already happened, surely INC would have gotten a hold of the story at some point. Any reporter worth his or her salt always had a way of sniffing out the big stories, and an epidemic of this scale affecting one of the major alien powers of this quadrant was definitely a big story. It was fucking huge, in fact. The ball bounced off the wall into Gabriel's palm, and he paused, swiveling back to his desk. He tossed the white leather sphere back and forth between his hands, staring absently at the report on his terminal screen. If all of this was true, it meant the Jha'Drok were truly i
n dire straits. With a declining population, as well as excess pressure caused by economic and industrial woes due to the loss of resources in the destruction of the assault legion five months earlier, the Emperium had backed themselves into a galactic corner.
They were now either too weak to be a threat to the Federation, or they were even more dangerous than before because they now had nothing left to lose.
Gabriel's thoughts were interrupted by the brief melody of the door chime. "Come in," he said, stowing the baseball back in its drawer. When he looked up he was startled to see Major Saveck standing just far enough inside the threshold so the door would close behind him. His hands were clasped behind his back, his shoulders squared, his expression solemn and neutral.
"Commodore, I am officially reporting to you upon my return from leave. Is there anything you require of me at this time?"
Marc stood, caught off guard more by Saveck's tone and expression than by his unexpected appearance. "You just now got back?"
"My ship docked an hour ago," the major replied, his gaze fixed on the viewport behind Gabriel. "I passed by my quarters long enough to change into a fresh uniform and stow my luggage. I am now reporting for duty."
"Well, major, I think we can manage without you for the rest of the afternoon. Take the day off. You've been gone for almost a month. Take some time to get settled back in."
Saveck frowned, finally meeting his commanding officer's gaze. "Commodore, if it's all the same with you, I'd rather return to my post immediately. I have work to do."
"Very well," Gabriel allowed. "But before you go, I have just one question for you."
Saveck had started to turn away, but Gabriel's words made him pause, and he hid his frustration beneath a calm veneer as he turned back. "Yes?"
"Thirteen years ago, that night in the Rigana-seven labor camp, why did you not commit suicide with your fellow officers? The battle was over, your side lost, and most of the other soldiers were dead by their own hand, in accordance with Chrisarii honor. Why not you?"
For several moments, Kralin regarded Gabriel in stoic silence. Finally, he said quietly, "I didn't see the honor in it." Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out of the office.
For a minute or two, Gabriel stared at the closed door, puzzling over the major's answer. He finally gave up, shook his head, and sat down, reluctantly reaching for the stack of paperwork that would eat up most of his afternoon schedule.
( 5 )
J'Soran Varis sighed and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes and massaging her temples. She'd been staring at her computer screen for the last six hours, transposing Jolan Nejra's report into her own words in preparation for delivering it to her commanding officer at the FCI branch office in the Abura sector. She rested for a minute or two, and then opened her eyes and leaned forward. She scrolled through the entire report one last time, searching for anything that would give away her source of information. There was none. She attached the file to a communiqué, typed in Special Agent Connor's interweb address, and then double checked the program's encryption protocols before pressing the "Send" key.
Three hours later, as Varis was preparing for bed, her terminal beeped. She had just removed her uniform jacket, and she reached for a t-shirt as she walked from her bedroom into the living room. "Computer, lights, half level." She sat down at her desk and switched on the screen.
"Hello, Aaron. That didn't take long."
Special Agent Connor smiled thinly. "You certainly know how to get my attention. You understand, J'Soran, that I need all necessary information pertaining to your source in this matter."
Varis shook her head. "I'm sorry. You know I can't do that. All field agents class three and above are not required to divulge their sources. This particular assignment carries with it special security concerns, and for that reason I am exercising my right to discretion when it comes to my sources of intelligence."
"Don't quote the rule book to me!" Connor snapped. The corners of his mouth curled into the familiar sneer that Varis knew so well. "I am your superior officer, and I am ordering you to tell me the name of your source. Is it someone inside the senate? The Talik'Jhor?"
J'Soran leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest, and regarded Connor with a puzzled frown. "Why does it matter? Isn't FCI already aware of the epidemic concerning the Jha'Drok female population?" For all the time that she'd known Agent Connor, Varis had never seen him caught off guard. Now she felt a thread of genuine fear worm its way down her spine at Connor's lack of immediate response, and she leaned forward, staring into her computer screen, locking her gaze with her commanding officer's. "Aaron. Tell me that the assistant directors back home already knew about this epidemic."
His mouth drew into a tight line and, after a moment or two, he shook his head. "I didn't read the whole report, J'Soran. I just read the first page summary and then passed it on to Assistant Director Y'Dar. Ten minutes ago, he calls me and demands to know which of my agents delivered that report. I told him I would call him back. Now what am I supposed to tell him?"
Varis thought for a moment, and then said, "You tell him exactly what I told you. I am a class three field operative, and it's my discretion whether or not I reveal my sources. The senior director of Central Intelligence is the only one who has the authority to override that regulation. If he's ever the one on the other end of the line, then you have him talk to me. Until then, you hide behind the rule book right alongside me, and Y'Dar can go stick his head up his ass. The source of this information should be the least of his worries right now. Tell him to get his analysts started on the process of updating their intel with this new report."
Aaron nodded, but there was a glint of cold amusement in his eyes. "Very well, brantar. I will abide by your discretion in this matter. Have a good night."
"You too, Agent Connor."
Varis terminated the call and shut off her screen. She sat back, breathing a sigh of relief. She had expected to feel better after passing on Jolan's report to Connor. She was just a field agent, after all. Like Gabriel had said earlier, her job was to gather the intel and pass it up the chain of command. The chore of analyzing that information and then acting upon it was a responsibility that she was relatively free of. The sector agents – like Connor – and the assistant directors were the ones at whose desks the buck usually stopped, and they were the ones who shouldered the consequences if anything went wrong.
But now that thread of fear that Varis had felt during her conversation with Connor began to whisper in the back of her mind. Although Jolan had included other valuable intel in his report, the most shocking was the news of the mysterious syndrome causing the decline in the Jha'Drok birth rate for the last three generations.
If the senior director and the assistant directors already knew of this, why would Y'Dar react the way he did? Varis thought as she returned to her bedroom and stripped. She crawled under the covers and ordered the computer to turn out the lights. Why would it matter if a field agent with a class three rating knew of something like this? Handling sensitive – as well as classified - information is part of my job description. So what is it about this particular report that has someone like Y'Dar suddenly on edge?
Varis lay awake for half the night, staring into the dark, but no immediate answer appeared to her.
The next morning, as she passed through her living room on her way to the kitchen, she stopped by her desk long enough to switch on her terminal and check her messages. There was a text-only communiqué from Connor.
"Problem solved for now. A.D. Y'Dar appeased. Continue as normal with present assignment, but be cautious."
Varis stored the message in one of the sub-folders and then shut off her screen. Connor's assurance relieved only some of her worry and doubt. It was that last part that kept repeating itself in her head over and over as she ordered up toast and juice from the food dispenser.
Be cautious.
As she stood in front of her closet mirror and slipped on
her uniform jacket, Varis examined her reflection, rearranging her expression into its usual stoic mask. She was always cautious. It, too, came with the job description, and, while she distrusted Special Agent Connor as a matter of principle, she decided that his warning had been genuine, and not some flippant remark. The first time she had met him she had instantly disliked him, though she had never been able to say exactly why. The more she worked with him, however, the more she realized that he carried himself with an air of perpetual sneer, as if he was always looking down on those around him, as though his rank and position allowed him absolute power and control over his agents, regardless of the rules and regulations.
Varis smoothed the front of her uniform, tucked an errant wisp of dark hair behind one ear, and shut her closet door. She paused at her desk to grab her comp-pad and then headed for the door. For the first time since she'd known him, Aaron had seemed genuinely afraid last night during their conversation, and that convinced her that his communiqué this morning was a sincere warning for her benefit.
Be cautious.
J'Soran pressed the key on the PTL com panel to summon the next lift. She would do as she had always done since arriving at Exxar-One: she would watch and listen. The only difference now was that she, too, was being observed more closely, and that was the reason for Connor's warning.
Be cautious.
Varis emerged on deck two and fell in step with Doctor Rosenberg and Lieutenant Commander Garrett. They were the last three to arrive for the morning briefing, and Commodore Gabriel began the meeting as soon as they took their seats.
It was another busy day on Exxar-One.
Epilogue
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