by Chris Hechtl
Admiral Irons frowned thoughtfully. He was dubious about what she was proposing. It was a potential minefield, one that could blow up in his face if mishandled. If it ever came to light, it could harm her career and blacken the federation.
“It is … troubling but far from conclusive. We have no proof they are there for malice, Commander. And although they are clones, according to Commander, excuse me, Captain Thornby's report they are not Xeno clones. So they aren't wraiths,” Admiral Sienkov continued.
“Yes, but the others are genetically similar. Quite possibly clones from another source, sir,” Sprite replied. “One we do not know about.”
“Still not enough to prove enemy action, Commander,” the intelligence admiral stated flatly. He looked at Admiral Irons.
“Not enough to move. No. Miss Sema has passed all of her reviews so far. Can you add additional questions to her security review to put your questions to rest, Commander?” Admiral Irons asked, knitting his fingers together. “I admit; I don't like this either. And I'm surprised that they've gotten as far as Bek.”
“The question is, how?”
“Not just how, but for how long has this been going on,” Admiral Irons stated. “How long have they been seeded. How far? For what purpose?”
“The only way to answer those questions for certain is to get our hands on one of them. Which,” Monty said indicating the slowly turning portrait of Moira Sema, “we do have—that and the CAG on Admiral Halsey.”
“You are proposing what, Captain? We take them apart? Find out how they tick?” Admiral Sienkov asked.
Monty winced. He was still feeling his relationship out with the new flag officer. The flag officer liked to keep a personal hand and eye on things but expected his subordinates to use their own good judgment and initiative. “No, sir. I'm saying we monitor each of them for signs of intelligence activity. Neither had implants prior to getting involved with the federation. They've passed every security review.”
“So did the changelings during the Xeno war, Captain,” Fletcher stated. “Including Commander Howell, sir,” the A.I. stated. The captain sucked in a breath and glanced at Admiral Irons.
“He's right there,” the fleet admiral was forced to ground out. “But a direct confrontation will lead to more problems or a possible suicide. We don't want that; we want answers. To date, their behavior has been benign. But she is in the security review process. If you have concerns, look deeper. Do a full scan of her mind if you have to. Anything noninvasive that you believe you can do. But if she throws up a flag, back off or return to protocol.”
“Understood, sir,” Monty replied. He nodded as he glanced at Fletcher. “I think we can work with that. With a scan of her mind, I think we can work up a simulation of her mind, and then stimulate it to get additional answers.”
“To some degree. The process is inexact at best and has to be treated with due caution,” Fletcher replied. “There will be a plus or minus error. I can't give a specific number until I see the compiled data.”
“Then work on it,” the admiral ordered. “In the meantime, just watch her.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
:::{)(}:::
The aftermath of the Bismark incident was one of the first files reviewed by Admiral Sienkov once he took office a week later. The Senate hearings had been an onerous duty—one he could have very well done without. It had been a comforting taste of home for some of the civilians … at least the Bekian civilians. The Nuevo delegation were not happy about it and had been a bit more blunt than some wanted.
But he was in office. He was now the official secretary of intelligence of the federation. And the Senate had confirmed his rank as vice admiral. That had been a nice touch. So had the salary they'd given him.
“Still having fun with the in briefs?” a by now familiar voice rumbled.
The vice admiral snorted. “It seems I'm forever going to be stuck playing catch-up. There is always something new,” the old man said, shaking his head.
“And there are not enough hours in the day. Trust me, I'm speaking from experience,” Admiral Irons said wryly. He'd invited the vice admiral over to have informal chats whenever their schedules had the free time. The admiral had wisely found out when his boss was reading the daily briefs and had taken that opportunity to drop in to get acquainted.
Which meant the two men and their staff read the various reports in the same room and then talked about one point or another until Protector or Lieutenant Yeager politely but firmly chased them back on schedule.
“No, never enough,” the vice admiral replied distractedly as he finished a paragraph.
“I learned a long time ago that we're not going to catch it all. Even an A.I. makes mistakes. We've got a better excuse; we're mortal. We do what we can with what we have, including our mental processing. No more no less. In the end we've got to trust our subordinates. Train ‘em up right and hope they follow through,” the admiral shot a glance at Elvis and then Protector. Both Lieutenants looked up from what they were doing and then nodded.
“Delegate. I know. You were a bit light on that with Captain Montgomery,” the admiral scolded mildly, testing the waters with Irons.
The fleet admiral and president grimaced. “I know, which is why I've cut him so much slack.”
“Between you, me and the bulkhead, I don't buy the whole he goofed deliberately to make the enemy underestimate him,” Yorgi said politely. “That excuse is wearing thin.”
“I know. It's probably a sop to his pride I suppose, though there is a bit of a kernel of truth to it. He freely admitted he could have done better. And he's stepped up since then.”
“But no sign of these Ssilli,” the new intelligence secretary said, waving his tablet. “And the snafu with Bismark …,” the elderly admiral shook his head in annoyance. “Damn, that must have sucked.”
“Yes, yes it did.” Admiral Irons grimaced as the room temperature seemed to cool. His jaw worked. “We got them though.”
“Yes, I suppose we did. How the hell they gained access … the codes …”
“They had an A.I., a former human ship thief on their side, plus a cyber,” Elvis supplied. “And the threat of that virus was enough to shake the ship's A.I.”
“Giving them the opening they needed. But they shouldn't have gotten their foot in the door in the first place,” Yorgi stated. “And this crap …,” he picked up his tablet and waved it. “All the theories that people spun on how they got in the star system in the first place? That was a lot of work down the drain. They chased their tails and burned up time. Valuable time in an investigation.”
“Yes, yes they did,” Protector stated. “Sometimes the simplest answers are the ones that are truth. But we're supposed to look beyond them, sir. Unfortunately, we jumped at shadows. We the intelligence community I mean.”
“I hadn't known you are in the INTEL community,” the admiral said, eying the A.I. avatar.
The A.I. shrugged. “I dabble in the briefs when I have to, sir. And I've been drawn in to help process data when necessary. I like to think I bring a fresh unique eye to the process.”
“Sure,” the admiral drawled. He sounded unsure though. After a moment the man shook himself. “One of my points is the vehement rejection of the basic methods the thieves employed to get through customs. Not that any would have popped up in any database!”
“No, no they didn't,” the admiral said. “We have a lot of holes to fill.”
“Yes we do. Simple disguises should have alerted someone something was up. At the least that they had something to hide.”
“Yes, sir,” Monty said from where he was positioned on a couch. “We missed it. I'm working with customs to overhaul that.”
“And retrain the personnel involved to spot such things I hope,” the admiral said. The captain nodded. “Good. Sometimes the simplest answer is the best one. I know intelligence is supposed to dig deeper below the surface, but in this case they were wasting time and resources. We need to
refocus this. Stop the witch hunt and get things back on track,” he said to Monty.
“Yes, sir.”
“Now that we're aware of the threat, it's time to find a way to counter it. I suggest overhauling the coding system for one. And training our A.I. to handle such situations better and not panic.”
“He didn't quite panic,” Protector replied, defending the ship A.I.
“He did too, and you and I both know it,” Admiral Sienkov retorted. “He saw what they wanted him to see and bunkered up leaving the ship wide open. He didn't for a moment wonder why the virus was there.”
“I don't know Leopold's mind, sir, so I couldn't answer that. And with all due respect, sir, you don't either,” Protector said.
Elvis and Monty looked up in surprise at that rejoinder. But Admiral Sienkov nodded. “Good, you can hold your ground, Lieutenant, even when it is a slippery slope. But …,” he held up a finger, “we can rectify that oversight by asking the officer in question.”
“Yes we can. I can do so now if you wish. Bismark is out on her builder's trial so there will be a time lag. Should I put a call in?”
“Weren't you the one who mentioned ending the witch hunts a moment ago, sir?” Elvis asked his boss mildly.
“Touché,” the admiral grunted. He turned to Protector. “Never mind.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The good news is we now know they have such thief teams and spy groups around the sector and probably in neighboring ones. Opportunists no doubt, at least for the thieves,” Monty mused. “But the Fifth Column groups … we've gotten confirmation reports of similar groups on Protodon and ET. How they are set up, where each is, and how they contact and supply each other is still an issue we're wrestling with.”
“They have some common methods between them. I wonder if they have a playbook? We need to ask. We need to get our hands on that and take it apart to use against them,” Admiral Sienkov said significantly, as he looked at Monty. The captain stiffened then nodded.
“I wonder how pervasive it is on the planets. How far does the rot extend?” Elvis murmured thoughtfully.
“Unfortunately, we have to assume it is everywhere, in every star system.” Admiral Irons said heavily. The other officers looked at him in alarm. He shook his head. “There are those attracted to that sort of viewpoint, the fringe. They wallow in self-pity and expect to get what they want. When they don't they get sullen. They claim they are the mistreated, downtrodden, crap like that. They find like-minds and build off of it. It's a disease that infects their children and others that surround them. One we can't get rid of. At least we can focus our efforts on the one species.”
“Don't be too sure of that. One species here yes, but it might be different elsewhere,” the intelligence admiral said. The captain frowned. “I read that this extreme Nazi conversion is a recent innovation in Horath. Recent as in the past century or so.”
“You think they sowed spy rings further back, sir?” Elvis asked. “Over not just space but time?”
“Until we know differently, we have to take that option into consideration carefully. Though knowing what people know now about Horath, I find it hard to believe someone would support them.”
“Blackmail …,” Monty frowned, looking up to the ceiling as his mind instantly listed ways to leverage someone into a group or continue their membership.
“Extortion, a sense of belonging, conditioning, or being in so deep you see no other way out except death, yeah, I know,” the admiral said.
Monty glanced at the Neochimp. Elvis' fur was standing on end. He was sure now it wasn't so much indignation as it was concern and a healthy dose of fear. “Now who's scaring who, sir?” Monty replied, cracking a smile.
The admiral snorted. “Touché'. But we have to keep it in mind and not go for the humans.”
“Yes, sir,” Monty replied slowly, looking at the other officers in the compartment. “Due diligence on everyone. They could be blackmailed by a hostage situation too,” the captain stated. “We ran into several cases like that.”
“Yeah, lovely,” the admiral sighed.
“At least we don't have to worry about it on Nuevo or Bek,” Monty said, moving the subject onward.
“No, but we've got our own problem children to worry about,” Admiral Sienkov replied.
“Oh?” Admiral Irons asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I'll tell you about it at another time. Or hell, you can read about it with the briefs,” the admiral stated.
Monty frowned and then nodded. “Yes, sir.”
:::{)(}:::
Protector, Sprite, and Fletcher came together in a virtual conference. The trio of A.I. discussed the Bek and Nuevo people for their final security vetting. “The military officers are a no brainer. They passed the security review process in Pyrax and again when they received their implants,” Fletcher stated. “What is amusing is the political animals among them and the civilians they brought with them. They are already diving into the process.”
“Agreed. I believe we can safely label some like Miss Sema as highly intelligent and ambitious,” Protector stated. “We have also not found a shred of evidence that she is disloyal.”
“Her only loyalty is to herself and her ambitions,” Sprite retorted.
“And her ambitions have been brought in line with the current government. She wants power. Anyone in her position does. It is one of the reasons organics choose politics.”
“Not just organics. We too like to have a hand in shaping our own destiny,” Fletcher replied.
“True,” Protector stated. “But we cannot in good conscience not pass the woman. The sins of the father are banned.”
“It is indeed. And it goes both ways as well. Admiral Irons faced a similar problem during the first part of the Xeno war, did he not?” Fletcher asked, signaling the question was for Sprite.
“I wasn't activated during that time period. I have only the same historical access you do,” Sprite replied.
“But you have access to his memoirs or files. His memories,” Fletcher continued. “You both do,” he stated.
“The admiral's thoughts are private,” Protector stated primly. “I too am too new to know what happened during that time period,” he stated.
“And you both have to protect the man,” Fletcher stated.
“I know one of the reasons he accepted the redoubt assignment was to get away from mainstream politics since he had been tainted,” Sprite said slowly. “Beyond that I cannot say. Moving on.”
“Agreed. But you see my point.”
“I can't concede that she isn't some sort of sleeper, even one unknowing. Many Xeno sleepers were programmed that way. And every argument that she isn't a Xeno changeling of some sort can be countered to some degree,” Sprite stated. She still didn't trust the woman. The more she tried to endear herself and work her way into the political process, the more it bothered the A.I. She had downloaded the woman's bio into her active memory and had wrote a series of scripts to keep it up-to-date and to check the status of ONI's ghost mind project on a regular basis.
“I see. Well, she will be in a position to be a spy or do damage, but her access to restricted files will be watched of course,” Fletcher stated.
“I believe as a senior member of the government we should recommend she be assigned an A.I. personal assistant. One that can also act as a watchdog,” Protector stated.
“Agreed. I believe Admiral Irons was considering that option,” Fletcher stated. “I know every member of his cabinet and every Star System governor who has received implants has some sort of watchdog program within their implant hardware and software.”
“All military personnel also have them. They can be suborned or bypassed. History has proven that,” Sprite stated.
“True. Which is why ONI is requiring scheduled as well as random security reviews. Given those precautions I vote we pass her and move on.”
“Seconded,” Protector said with a microsecond of hesitation.
&n
bsp; Sprite noted her schedule. She had precisely two more seconds to argue the point before her full attention was needed elsewhere. She also noted she was outvoted. But she couldn't go on record as opposing it in case that was ever brought to the woman's attention. She could make an enemy, a powerful one that could hamper the admiral's actions in the future. “Fine, I agree as well. Happy?”
“Someone needs adjustments to their emotional modulators,” Fletcher stated. “Next case.”
“Yes, next,” Sprite replied, adjusting herself.
Chapter 6
Admiral Sienkov did his best to feel out Captain Montgomery and then find a way to bond with the man. He could appreciate all that the man had gone through; he'd been dumped into the mix with little or no training, support, and then the man responsible for making sure he got it right took off for parts unknown.
He hadn't wanted the job, that much was certain from reading the initial setup of ONI. He'd finally given in and taken the top slot, then gotten his head handed to him by Admiral Subert. It wasn't a fair situation, but life wasn't fair. Right way, wrong way, Navy way he reminded himself.
Even if some people had to learn on the job.
He wasn't sure he'd forgive Admiral Irons for cutting out like that. He wasn't sure he himself could … although there was something to be said about all's well that ends well. Best to leave the situation alone.
They'd gotten lucky; there was no other way of putting it.
ONI had too much on its plate. He knew that. Not only did they have limited resources and personnel, but they also had too much tasking, too many irons in the fire. Analyzing the enemy ships, movement, politics, players, building a better picture of the enemy society, inserting personnel and A.I. into that to perform missions … plus monitor their own people, do background checks, interview the POWs, go through their databases, and keep an eye on the rather lively politics and politicians rising in the federation.
One of the biggest things that had vexed him, that had apparently vexed Phil Subert and others, was that they didn't have a proper grasp of the enemy. ONI had captured a lot of personnel and databases after all, one would think they could and should have built a good idea of what they were dealing with.
