by C. R. Daems
He laughed. “Sorry. You’re right. We’ve been looking at the individual trees while you’re looking at the forest. We’ll put together a plan for your approval.”
“I’d like to know what you are going to do, but it doesn’t need my approval. I trust you. How do promotions work?” I then asked, wanting to move on like the women issue had already been solved.
“Individuals are recommended by their department chief and then are considered by a board, which includes McKenzie, Olson, Harris, and Ballard, who meet quarterly. Up to staff sergeant it’s pretty much automatic, but above that rank it usually requires an open position. When a position opens up sometimes a person is placed in the position temporarily as acting by the department chief until the board can meet.”
“Salaries?” I asked.
“Each rank and position has a base salary. Then there are automatic raises for time in grade, and bonuses for awards.” He smiled. “You’ll notice you got a ten-thousand-credit bonus for the Medal of Valor you were awarded.”
My mouth dropped open. I seldom looked at my bank account. Credits went in and out automatically and there was more than an adequate amount in the account for me to not worry about it.
“You didn’t look.” He laughed again. “Congratulations. From the reports I heard, you earned it.”
Schwartz spent the next couple of hours explaining the records database and showing me how to access it. Then we had a quiet lunch where he got me to talk about my NIA career.
* * *
“Good afternoon, Director Paulus.” Olson greeted me using my title as several new-hires were in the area when I arrived. “I wanted you to review the changes to the curriculum as well as the refresher course.”
“Thank you, Major. I appreciate that. I’m interested in seeing the changes,” I said and followed him into the conference room. The room was very basic with comfortable leather chairs that didn’t swivel or have rollers, and the conference table was metal, not wood. As the room was used primarily for training, a monitor hung on each wall instead of paintings or pictures.
“We added several of your assassination attempts as exercises to see what the new-hires and current c-agents would do and compared the results. Fortunately, the c-agents did better but not by a significant amount. Your assassins were very clever. One’s eyes and attention always respond to noise or a commotion. You have to force yourself to do otherwise. We decided we will have to designate c-agents to look in the other direction. It’s almost funny.” He went on to detail the additions to the two programs. “And we all agree more women would be good for security. We’re considering a short introductory course for interested women both to explain the life and to evaluate the candidates.” As he spoke, he watched me for my reaction.
“I leave that to you, but that’s sounds like a good approach. I wasn’t suggesting a quota. I just thought the right women, properly trained, might provide us with better security options,” I said.
He nodded and then grinned. “Would you like to participate?”
“I would be willing if you think it might help.” I grinned at his surprise.
* * *
“Mother, I have another aide-de-camp,” I said at dinner that night with Alexa.
“I thought you didn’t like aides,” she said with an amused smile and her fork with a slice of whitefish paused halfway to her mouth.
“I have two problems with the concept. First, the position has no job description, so a third grader as well as a doctor could fill it—”
“That’s good because you can make it anything you want,” Alexa interjected.
“That’s the second problem. To keep the aide busy I have to give the person work I would otherwise do to keep me busy and that I’d probably enjoy.” I made a sulky face and Red relaxed, lying limp and sliding onto my chest.
“It appears Red agrees and sympathizes,” Alexa laughed.
“Can’t blame him. He has little excitement in his life.”
“So, who is your new aide-de-camp? Is he young and handsome?”
“Mother!” I guessed a director having an affair with an aide wasn’t unheard of, but the fallout would be a disaster for me and the aide. I shook my head to clear it of the consequences. “My new aide is a female c-agent, Sergeant Maxine Landon. The male c-agents didn’t appear interested.”
“Do you like her?”
“She has the right attitude, and ironically the same general reason that David had. She wants to watch me.”
“Smart woman. You’ve gone from ensign to the Director of the UAS Committee Security in less than fifteen years with no political help.”
“I had something much better—you, Mother, and this thing pretending to be a red-headed krait.”
* * *
Several days later, Maxine appeared with the results of my query.
“Anna,” Maxine said hesitantly and then eagerly continued when I nodded. “Mr. Morales was the leader of a conservative group with a four to one majority. His death had no immediate impact on the delegation. Mrs. Briggs was the leader of an Independent group, also with a four to one majority. And the third death, a Mr. Crawford, was on an Expansionists group with a three to two majority. Since Mr. Crawford was a Socialist, the group wasn’t impacted,” she said, reading from her tablet. She looked up cautiously.
“Excellent, Maxine. That is just want I wanted,” I said and smiled. “What I’m trying to determine is the reason for the murders. If we can determine that we will be one step closer to finding our killers. Your next task is to get an appointment with Commander Weaver, who is the Director of the NIA Stations. Explain to him that I want his people to determine the new configuration of the seven groups we are following: Westar, Amend, Holy Star, New Zheng, Sutan, Oasis, and Black Water.”
Maxine nodded but frowned. “Won’t we know when they return to Eastar for the Committee’s next scheduled meeting?” she asked.
“Yes, but NIA will be able to report the results weeks ahead of their arrival, and I’d like to know as soon as possible. A few weeks may save lives. But if nothing else, it will give us more time to consider what to do next.” I sat back and took a sip of coffee. “Maxine, have you been asked your opinion about how to recruit more women?” I asked.
She smiled. “Yes. They want your input but don’t want to ask, so I think they are hoping to get it through me.”
“You should give them all the help you can, but I prefer to wait for them to come up with a plan. If I interfere, it will become my plan, and they might stop thinking, and we could lose a much better idea,” I said and watched Maxine working through my logic. Eventually, she smiled.
“This is why I wanted to be your aide. Thank you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Understanding the Problem
“Ladies, this is the Director of Committee Security, Miss Paulus,” Olson said to a group of fifteen women he and several others had screened for the first introductory training class for non-combat-trained women. They were all standing, dressed in gray sweat suits and running shoes.
“Sit,” I said and waited before continuing. “Most of the men who apply for c-agents have already confronted the two questions you must resolve if you are to pass this course and are selected to join Committee Security. First and foremost, can you kill another human? You will be protecting important people from around the UAS that are deciding our futures. Only on the vids do the heroes shoot to wound. In reality you won’t know until the situation arises, but if you know you can’t, this is no place for you. Your inability to shoot an assassin attacking a delegate could not only get the delegate killed, but it could get you or your fellow c-agent killed. Assassins not only shoot at the intended target but also those protecting them. And that is the second issue you must consider. Are you willing to risk your life to save those you are guarding, because the risk is real?” I paused for them to think and to ask questions.
“Have you ever killed anyone?” a stocky young woman asked. Although the question was
meaningless it was usually the first question people asked. I wasn’t applying to be a c-agent.
“Yes. While one’s first kill is probably the most difficult and traumatic, mine was easy. Men were trying to kill my mother. Since then I have been wounded around ten times and killed several men during the course of my career. I look at it not as killing people but as saving people, because I don’t enjoy killing anything.”
“Ladies, take a ten-minute break,” Olson said to the women as he walked up to me with Maxine following. “Maxine made a good decision. At the time I thought, like most of our male c-agents, why would a c-agent want to fetch and carry? It isn’t a promotion or more money. No, Maxine is willing to do whatever is necessary to study you up close and personal.”
“Boss,” Maxine said, “if you have no need for me, Commander Weaver texted me that he has the information you asked for.”
“No, go see Weaver and thank him for me.” As Maxine turned and headed for the elevator, I said, “No, Craig, she is thinking about her future. She wants to be a senior c-agent with her own department or maybe her own company someday.”
Craig nodded in agreement. “Thank you for agreeing to make the introduction. It was very insightful and just what the women needed to hear. And the best part, it was delivered by a woman, not a man who might be considered chauvinistic.”
“It’s a good program, Craig. I like that you have men and women teaching it. I think some of the women will have questions best answered by another woman. I’d like your evaluation of the course when it’s finished.”
* * *
Maxine was excited when she returned. “Weaver had the final results for all seven systems.”
“Get me a coffee, and bring it to the table,” I said as Maxine mixed my coffee drink and sat at the small round table.
“How did you know?” Maxine asked, after we had put the information into a table that visually showed the before and after results.
“I didn’t, but I’m used to dealing with the other systems and was curious if the same murders were happening on the delegates’ planets. And when I discovered the high accident rate of the delegates it made me wonder what impact that had on the system delegate vote. This doesn’t prove the accidents were murders but it does require further review.” When it appeared that Maxine understood my thought process I clicked on Martha’s icon. “Martha, see if you can get me an appointment with the Core group.” I sat back and sipped my coffee while considering the current data and wondering if there was a political assassins group with an agenda or if there were two groups—one with an agenda and one just hired assassins. Martha jerked me out of my musing.
“Director, they will see you now,” Martha said. I rose, put on my jacket, and exited my office.
“Thank you, Martha,” I said as I headed for Bennett’s office. His secretary waved for me to go in, so I knocked and entered. “Good day,” I said and heard similar replies from the three.
“You have news, Anna?” Bennett asked.
“I’ve received a response to my request. I’m trying to determine if the changes are normal or whether the results are related directly to the delegates’ accidents and therefore not accidents but murder,” I said.
“What changes?” Scherer asked, frowning. “You appear to have information we don’t.”
“Before the shooting on Eastar the Majority party was the Conservatives with eight Conservative votes, one Independent, and one Expansionist. The Minority party had four votes with three Liberals and one Socialist. That gave the Majority party a six-vote advantage. The three murders on Eastar didn’t change that six-vote advantage, but it did reduce the Conservative vote by two and increased the Expansionists by two—giving the Conservatives and Expansionists an equal number. The Minority party was unchanged. However, the four incidents involving delegates on their home planets produced a major shift. The Majority party advantage is now only two. In addition, the number of Conservatives and Expansionists groups are now equal, and the Liberals now have five of the current six groups and are now the largest party.” I paused, noting each of their reactions. Bennett was frowning, Glaser smiling, and Scherer appeared deep in thought.
“What do you need to know?” Scherer finally asked.
“More about the election process and then to collect some historical data to compare to the recent changes,” I said.
“A delegate’s term is for five years. To avoid massive changes each year, only one-fifth of the delegates’ positions are up for election each year. Therefore, in each system only one person is up for reelection, unless there is a death like this year. Then more than one person could change.” Scherer looked to me before continuing. “And the Majority party is determined by which parties decide to align to form a block.”
I nodded. “I’d like to have each party’s votes for the past four years.” I said, thinking that should be sufficient to determine a pattern.
“What are you hoping to find?” Bennett asked. He looked shaken by the results, probably the loss of Conservative votes—down from eight to three.
“Whether the murders on Eastar and the accidents on the various systems constitute an organized plot to manipulate UAS policy,” I said to shocked faces.
“Do you think that is what is happening?” Bennett asked, but I could see Scherer already believed it by her slight nod. Even Glaser looked interested in the idea, and he should be.
“I don’t know but before I arrived the Conservatives had a significant vote advantage. Now they not only don’t have a majority vote but if the Expansionists joined the Liberals they would be the majority party, or if the Expansionists, Independents, and Socialists joined, they would be the majority party and you would potentially have three voting groups. The dynamics have certainly changed as a result of these deaths.” I said. “I’m hoping a review of the last four years’ elections will give me more data to make a decision.”
* * *
“This should be interesting,” Craig said as I prepared to teach the arms portion of the introductory course for potential woman candidates. “Obviously I had envisioned going at it differently.” He gave me a wry smile.
“But your typical candidate has fired thousands of rounds, and all you want to determine is how quick he can think and how accurate his shooting. I’d be surprised if the average woman here has fired fifty rounds in her life. So, she’s not quick, not accurate, and potentially dangerous.”
I turned to the group of ten women candidates. “I will be your trainer for this segment. It will be approximately two hours each day,” I said to get their attention. “Rule one. Never point a gun, loaded or unloaded or inoperative, at someone unless you intent to shoot him or her. Never. That includes the guns you are going to be working with in a few minutes even though they are harmless. Because the person you’re pointing your gun at can’t read your mind, it’s therefore reasonable for him to think you plan to shoot him. In that case, he would be justified in shooting you first.”
I picked up one of the guns lying on the bench of the shooting lane I was standing next to and held it pointing toward the ceiling. “This weapon shoots a beam of light when the trigger is depressed, which will show you where you would have hit the target if it had been a bullet.” I turned so I was facing sideways to the target and pressed the trigger. The beam showed a line of red to the bull’s-eye. “For this session I want you to aim, press the trigger, and determine where it would hit. If it’s not on the bull’s-eye, move the light until it is and inspect your aim.”
Over the next hour, I went to each woman and made suggestions. I had been right, only two women had shot more than one hundred rounds in their life. By the end of the two hours they all appeared to be doing well.
The next day, I taught them how to take apart a Sig Sauer, clean it, and put it back together again. I snickered to myself as I recalled my first two weeks with Chief Ransom learning how to do the same to a variety of weapons.
The following day, I gave them each a Sig Sauer
and ammo. “Ladies, the Sig Sauer lying on each table is not to be touched until I come to your firing lane,” I said and proceeded to stop at each table and explain the protocol for a firing range, making sure they came and left the booth with an unloaded weapon and cleaned it before returning it to inventory.
For the next week, I spent an hour each day monitoring the women. In the end, eight women were comfortable with the Sig and the Laser and had qualified my portion of the training.
* * *
“Well, Craig, what is your evaluation of the introductory training course?” I asked when the course had ended. We sat in my office drinking coffee. Seth, Maxine, and Martha were also present.
“Surprisingly better than I had thought. We’ve concluded six of the women should be hired as probationary candidates along with several male candidates.” Craig smiled. “As you pointed out, you never had combat experience and didn’t even like shooting at an outline of a human head and torso. The addition of several more women will fill a potential weakness in our one-on-one security. They might need remedial training, but we will make it work without lowering our standards.”
“Thank you, Craig, the program was excellent, and you’re right. The women will need a bit more hand-holding, but I believe the additional effort will prove worthwhile,” I said. When Craig had left, Martha spoke.
“Majority Leader Scherer gave me this flash drive. She said it contained the information you requested.” She handed me the drive. I inserted it into my tablet and transferred the data to the room monitor. It showed the party majority vote by system. Red wound his way into my hair and settled his head on my forehead as I organized the data. I created five columns, one for each year, and then a row for each system.
“You knew what we would find,” Maxine said, sounding excited.
“What’s that?” I asked, although it was fairly obvious.
“That the systems’ votes are relatively stable. Each system tends to vote the same way each year. But the murders have caused a lot of changes.”
