by Glenn Smith
“Unless they need to know where the reactors are,” he then hypothesized.
“I don’t think so,” the admiral said again. “Any vessel’s active scanners could locate the reactors easily, just by looking for the heaviest shielding.”
“Good point,” Ansara agreed.
“All right. I’ll let the F-B-I know you have the civilian suspect in custody and that we’re petitioning for an executive order to maintain military jurisdiction over him. Then I’ll call the president. Something tells me we’d better move fast on this one.”
“Thanks, Adm... uh... I mean, Michelle.”
Straczynski closed the channel, leaned back and drew a deep breath and sighed, and then mumbled, “I knew I should have retired when the ceasefire went into effect.”
Chapter 17
Jennifer glanced at her watch, sighed with relief, and then gladly closed the fifth case file she’d thoroughly reviewed in as many hours and shut down her computer terminal. Quitting time at last, and not a moment too soon. Her eyes felt tired and dry, strained from all those hours of staring at the monitor without a break. She probably couldn’t have read one more page if she’d wanted to. She yawned big, then leaned back in her chair, put her feet up on her desk, and laced her fingers behind her head and sighed.
Her afternoon had been a long and quiet one. After briefing Commander Ansara on the mixed results of her Al-Sharif interview and then bringing him up to speed on the case overall, she’d spent the rest of the day, including her lunch break, parked behind her desk, reviewing her other cases and updating their progress reports. Not that she’d made much of any progress in those other cases lately. Not while the Al-Sharif case held so much command interest. Given a choice, she would have preferred to spend at least some of that time interrogating that sorry piece of shit who’d hurt Ashley—actually, she wanted to gouge his eyes out and use them for Ping-Pong balls more than anything else—but with no executive order from the president authorizing the military to exercise jurisdiction over him, she couldn’t even read him his rights. Ansara had contacted the S.I.A. and that agency’s chief had agreed to request that order, but so far they hadn’t heard back on whether or not the president had issued it.
At any rate, the duty day was finally over and she was more than ready to call it quits. It was time to go visit Ashley again.
“You still there, Jenny?” Ansara asked over the intercom as she stood up.
She huffed with annoyance and yanked her jacket off the back of her chair. Why did he always have to call her that? “It’s ‘Jennifer,’ sir, not ‘Jenny,’” she reminded him as she pulled her jacket on. “And yes, I’m still here, but I was just on my way out for the night.”
“Just wanted to let you know the order came down from Vice-President Harkam a few minutes ago. The good news is that Solfleet has been granted exclusive jurisdiction over our friend down in lockup. The bad news is the S-I-A is taking over the case effective five minutes ago. Sorry you have to let it go, Jennifer, but I need you to forward everything you’ve got to their office here at the shipyard.”
“Will do, sir, but since I initiated this thing in the first place, do I have your permission to follow their progress on the case? With their approval, of course.”
“Yeah, that’s okay with me if it’s okay with them, as long as you don’t fall behind on your other casework.”
“I promise I won’t, sir. Thank you.”
“Good night, Jenny. I mean... Jennifer.”
“Good night, sir.”
She pushed her chair aside, out of her way, and then switched her terminal back on and called the Al-Sharif case file back up. She tagged it for transmittal to the local S.I.A. office, but then hesitated to send it when the reality of what she was doing finally caught up to her. She’d started this investigation herself. Because she’d taken the initiative, acts of treason and espionage had been exposed. Now she was being told to hand the case, her case, over to someone else—to the S.I.A. She couldn’t do anything about that, of course, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. At least she’d had enough forethought to get Ansara’s permission to keep tabs on their progress. Perhaps, if she took care to ask in the right way, she might get their permission as well.
Speaking of whom, if the S.I.A. had already gotten the go-ahead, and they obviously had, then they’d most likely dive in with both feet first thing in the morning, and the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to be allowed to do more than just keep tabs on their progress. To begin with, she wanted to observe the suspect’s interrogation. Maybe even play some small part in it, if they let her.
She reached across to her comm-panel and tapped the button to make an inter-agency call to the S.I.A.
“S-I-A, this is Reese,” a man’s voice responded.
Jennifer paused briefly, thinking that his voice sounded vaguely familiar somehow, then got on with it. “Mister Reese, this is Special Agent Jennifer Barrett from the C-I-D,” she began. “I’m the agent who initiated the Omar Al-Sharif case. I understand your office has taken over the investigation, effective immediately?”
“That’s correct, Agent Barrett,” he confirmed.
“Has it been assigned to an agent yet, and if so, is that agent in right now?”
“Yeah, it’s been assigned to me, and yes I am in.”
Jennifer smiled, knowing from the gentle tone of his voice that he was trying to be funny, not sarcastic. “Are you going to be there for a little while longer? I thought I’d bring the file to you personally instead of just sending it over... in case you have any questions.”
“Yeah, I’ll be here. Come on over.”
“Great. I’m on my way. See you shortly.” She closed the channel, still thinking... still knowing... that his voice sounded familiar, though she still couldn’t place it. She took a data-chip out of her top drawer, slipped it into the transfer slot in her terminal, and tapped the ‘upload’ button, then glanced at the chip to make sure the light started blinking. As soon as it stopped she pulled the chip and dropped it into her coat pocket, then shut down her terminal again and headed out.
Common sense dictated that the offices of the C.I.D. and the offices of the S.I.A. should be located relatively close together, so it didn’t take her very long to get there. Considering the nature of the agency’s mission, she felt more than a little surprised to find the entrance unlocked when she arrived, but then it dawned on her that Agent Reese had probably just unlocked it in anticipation of her arrival.
She walked in, noting how closely the reception area’s size and shape resembled that of the C.I.D. offices, though the furniture had been arranged slightly differently. It was vacant. Even the receptionist was gone. Apparently, everyone except Reese had already gone home for the night. Speaking of Reese, she called out to him tentatively, “Agent Reese?”
“Back here, Agent Barrett,” the answer came from somewhere off to her right.
She turned and looked, then headed down the dim hallway toward what appeared to be the only office with its lights still on, and when she stepped inside that office she was surprised and quite pleased to discover who had agreed to her personal visit.
“Oh my god, you have got to be kidding me,” she exclaimed, smiling like a shy but giddy schoolgirl as she gazed at the golden-haired stud she’d briefly met at Manny’s two nights ago.
“Hello there, Agent Barrett,” he said, smiling back at her as he stood up behind his desk. “Please, come on in.”
Jennifer gazed into his familiar sea-blue eyes as she approached his desk. As long as she lived she would never forget those eyes. “I thought you told me your name was Pete Helsingr,” she recalled.
“I did,” he confirmed for her, “and it was at the time. I was working.”
“I see. So... was I work, or did you already know who I was?”
He pointed at the chair beside his desk, but then apparently changed his mind and stepped out from behind his desk. “Let’s go into the break room,” he suggested.<
br />
She followed him, admiring his finely tailored charcoal-gray suit—how well it fit him. He was obviously a man who liked to look good on the job, rather than one of those who simply threw on a suit because the job required it.
“Would you like a cup of coffee or tea or something?” he asked her as they walked into what looked more like a high school teachers’ lounge than an office break room.
“No, thank you.”
He led her over to a pair of thickly-cushioned blue-gray chairs that looked like someone’s living room rejects set against the far wall with a combination falsewood table and digital reader rack stuck between them. He pointed her toward the chair on the left and then waited for her to sit before he sat down in the chair on the right. “So,” he began as he got comfortable, “I assume you brought the case file with you.”
“Yes, I did.” She took the chip out of her jacket pocket and held it up for a second where he could see, then rested her hands in her lap. “But I’d like you to answer my question before I give it to you.”
“What question is that,” he asked.
“The one I just asked you about ten seconds ago.” She repeated it for him, in case he’d missed it. “Was I work, or did you already know who I was?”
“At the time you were... potential work, I guess you could say,” he answered, seemingly telling her the truth. “I didn’t find out who you were until later.”
“Was I a suspect?”
“An unknown element. One who ultimately proved to have no connection to what I was working on. Much to my relief, I might add.”
She smiled and asked, “Why much to your relief?”
“Because had you been involved, you would have been branded unapproachable where I was concerned. At least for the foreseeable future.”
Intrigued, and grinning, she asked, “Unapproachable for what?”
“For...” He shrugged his shoulders and then gazed into her eyes, “...whatever.”
She couldn’t believe it. He was interested her. Really interested, on a very personal level. She could hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes. She’d never considered herself to be very pretty—cute, but not really pretty—and yet he was hitting on her like no stranger ever had, as though in his eyes she were a beautiful woman to be... conquered. She found that she liked it, which didn’t really surprise her, but she didn’t know how to respond. If she made it easy for him he might think she was too easy and lose interest in her. But if she played hard to get she might discourage him and push him into giving up.
What should she do?
She thought of Ernesto and immediately felt ashamed of herself for having forgotten him so easily, even for that one brief moment. She stood up and turned her back to Reese. How could she have done that? How could she have let this man whom she’d only just met, no matter how charming he might be, make her forget the man whom she’d considered to be the love of her life since high school?
“Are you all right, Jennifer?” Reese asked her.
“What? Oh... yeah, I’m fine.” She faced around and held the chip out to him and waited for him to take it, then asked, when he finally did, “I was wondering if you’d keep me informed of your progress? I already have my C-O’s permission, dependant on that of your office.”
“I don’t see why not,” he replied. “You obviously have the necessary clearance. My chief will have to approve it, of course, but I don’t think that’ll be a problem. I can’t ask him until tomorrow morning, though.”
“I understand. Do you know yet when you’re going to interrogate the prisoner?”
“I want to review this thoroughly first,” he answered, briefly holding the chip up, “but I expect that’ll be one of the first things I do.”
“I’d like to observe, if your chief is okay with it.”
“I’ll ask him,” he told her. Then he stood up with her and added, “But only under one condition.”
“What condition?” she asked. What was he up to?
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
Jennifer smiled and drew a breath to say ‘yes,’ but her memories of Ernesto that flashed through her mind at that moment quickly erased her smile and the word got caught in her throat. She wanted to accept his invitation. She wanted to go out to dinner with him. But the vision of Ernesto floating before her in her mind’s eye left her speechless until she finally managed to say, “Well, I... I was on my way to the medbay to... to see my partner, and I was... I was thinking about having dinner in her room... with her... I mean, if... if she’s awake.”
“I see,” he replied, visibly disappointed. But he obviously hadn’t given up yet. “Tell you what, Jennifer,” he went on. “Go visit your partner. See how she’s doing. Take all the time you need. Then, if you decide you’d like to go out with me, give me a call.” He pulled a card out of his coat pocket and offered it to her. “That’s to my desk.”
Jennifer accepted his card and looked at it. It was as simple and straight forward as it could be. A couple lines of black text on a plain white cardstock centered between the Solfleet insignia and the S.I.A. shield—an old-fashioned business card, except for its embedded call chip. ‘Special Agent Christopher Reese, Solfleet Intelligence Agency,” and the chip. “I’ll give you a call either way,” she told him. “Let you know one way or the other.”
“Good. I’ll be here. Now go see your partner.”
She looked up into his eyes again but couldn’t think of anything else to say, then turned and walked out, heading for the medbay.
She liked this guy. She really liked him. Christopher Reese. Chris. He seemed like a nice guy, selfless and patient, and so good looking. He was also the first man she’d ever met who had made her forget about Ernesto so completely, even if only for a moment. That meant something, didn’t it? It had to mean something. He’d touched her heart like no man ever had, except for Ernesto, of course.
Or had he? Maybe her heart wasn’t the organ she was listening to at the moment.
She thought about Chris all the way to the medbay—specifically about his invitation to have dinner with him and whether or not she should accept... and what it might mean if she did. Would it prove that she had finally given up on ever seeing Ernesto again? And if so, was that necessarily such a bad thing at this point? Ernesto had been missing for so long. What if he never came back? Was she just supposed to wait for him forever? Was she supposed to live out the rest of her years alone, holding onto the small hope that he might someday come back to her? What if he couldn’t come back? What if he was... dead?
So many questions. So many thoughts. She rolled them all over and over in her mind, again and again, until finally...
Medbay. She’d arrived. She pushed all those questions and all those thoughts aside as she walked past the nurse’s station and approached Ashley’s room. She stopped outside the door and listened for a moment, not wanting to interrupt if someone else had come by to see her and was still in there with her. When she didn’t hear anyone talking she pushed the door open slowly and tiptoed quietly inside, in case Ashley was asleep, but was glad when Ashley turned her head and looked at her. “Hey, Ashley,” she said, smiling at her.
“Hi, Jennifer,” Ashley replied, trying to smile as she struggled a little with her blankets, trying to pull them up over her bare breasts with her still heavily bandaged hands.
Her voice sounded a lot stronger, Jennifer noticed as she closed the door behind her and then crossed to Ashley’s bedside to help her with her blankets. It wasn’t back to normal yet, but it definitely sounded stronger and more intelligible than it had earlier. Also, the swelling in and around her eyes had gone down some more and most of the discoloration had faded significantly. Whatever her doctors were doing for her seemed to be working well, except that her PPG burns still looked pretty bad.
“You sound a lot better,” Jennifer told her as she tucked the blankets in under her arms.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Look better, too. How are you feeling?
”
“Thank you,” Ashley said first as Jennifer finished tucking the blankets and straightened. Then she cleared her throat and answered, “I feel better. Well... at least a little. Still fade in and out sometimes, though. I’m glad you came by. Pull up a chair and stay a while.”
Jennifer stepped over to the small doctor’s table against the wall, grabbed the chair, and rolled it over to the bedside and sat down. She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, then asked, “So, I guess my first question has to be, why aren’t you wearing anything?”
Ashley grinned, then told her, “The nurse just finished giving me a bath.”
“Oh. So... what? They don’t give you a clean gown after they bathe you?”
“Didn’t want one,” Ashley explained. “The drugs they have me on make me hot.”
“Oh,” Jennifer repeated as she glanced around at the various medicine drips and feeding tubes and instrument wires hooked up to her friend. Then, in an effort to help lift her spirits, she said, “I thought that was what Roberto was for.”
Laughing a little bit while at the same time trying not to, Ashley told her, “Not that kind of hot.” Then, when she finally stopped laughing, she pleaded, “Please don’t make me laugh. It makes my cheeks hurt.”
“I’m sorry,” Jennifer said.
“In fact...” She lifted her arms up off her bed. “Do me a favor and pull the blankets back down. I’m starting to get hot again.”
Jennifer stood up and pulled her them down to her waist. “Far enough?”
“All the way, please.”
“What if a guy walks in here?” Jennifer asked her as she pulled them down past her knees and then folded them over to uncover her feet.
“The only guys who ever walk in here unannounced are the doctors,” Ashley pointed out, “and I don’t have anything they haven’t already seen.”
“Good point,” Jennifer said as she sat back down. Then she asked, “So besides your voice getting stronger and your eyes looking better, how are you?”
“Well... I can see... sort of,” Ashley answered. “Everything’s still a little blurry and the colors are off, but it beats total blindness. I can use my hands a little, move my blankets around. Still can’t grip anything, though. Don’t know when I might be able to do that, or even if I’ll be able to do it again.”
