"They don't need more management in Hull Design, so I'm side-lined! They've got me pegged for Efficiency Verification -- re-reading everyone else's forms and reports just to make sure they're all filled out right! But here you are, smelling like a rose! This was your plan all along, wasn't it?!"
I just smiled and sipped my coffee. It tasted sooooo good.
"You're a twerp!" he shouted at my retreating back, "A twerp!" He got the attention of some of the guards standing around. They were used to Jake and his outbursts by now, or, at least, they'd learn to endure them.
Project Management had gotten a bit of a shake-up when Team took over, just like everything else. It was now composed of a mix of Admin and military muckety-mucks, and I'd only ever seen any of them at big Department-wide meetings. They had their own security escort, some of whom stood at attention outside the room. They checked my IDent before letting me pass. As it turned out, only four of the Project Managers were in there with my two bosses. I walked over and sat next to Ghazza and Floy. I got looks because of the coffee, so I took another sip.
A silver-haired woman in a Team uniform and with the rank of Eight watched me with curious eyes. I had no idea who she was.
"You don't fall into any regular category of personnel regarding this project, Mr. Dosantos," she said.
"Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?"
"It's a mighty uncomfortable thing," she replied. "You have the entire Department on edge. I would never have an Admin spook working for me, if I had a choice. The BoD is wrong on this point. I'm stating that for the record. It's my right and my duty as an officer to do so."
"Okay," I replied quietly, then took another sip. I made slurpy sounds. Out of the corner of my eye, both Floy and Ghazza looked mortified.
"You have split priorities," she continued. "You couldn't even be here on time, when you were summoned..."
"No one summons me," I interrupted, firmly. "I'm not Team. I'm not even a Corporatespace citizen. I'm here because this is a meeting I want to attend. I will not waste time kowtowing to your pride or hierarchy. I helped uncover something nasty aboard this station, and I'm not certain yet how high up the rot here goes. I've also helped elevate Weaponry to the status and respect it deserves. If you want a freejump warship that can actually fight a battle once it gets where it's going, then you need the best people for the job. Our Department now requires a Fleet Liaison, and we expect CPS07 Floyeen Nuellan to fill that position. We also need an Admin Liaison."
"And that would be you I suppose?" she asked...accused, really.
"No. That would be CPM06 Ghazza Mattor -- who is overdue for advancement, I might add, which I'll be looking into. Managers in the the other Sub-D's who have been far less productive seem to be moving up just fine, so it rather stinks of cronyism."
"You don't outrank anyone in this room!" a man in an ill-cut dark blue suit, sitting at her side, bellowed.
"My original mandate from Admin Security was to look for gross inefficiency in R&D. That mission has taken me down some literal dark alleys, but it still stands. You people are going to help us build this ship for the Montaro Commercial Federation, or you're going to be replaced. I'm telling you this now, as matter of courtesy -- a thing I'm not famous for, and which I don't have in great supply! Now, is there anything else going on with you people that I need to hear about?"
"This is ridiculous!" the silver-haired woman spat, getting to her feet. Her companions and their escorts followed, all of them stalking out of the room in a tremendous show of fury.
The two women left behind both stared at me with expressions composed of shock, fear, and hilarity.
"Where's the new office?" I asked, after finishing off my joe. "I'll help the kids move our stuff."
They weren't having any of that, though.
How had I pulled it off?!
"I offered Maelbrott a deal. I guess he took it."
Who was helping us on the BoD?!
"Can't name names, sorry. I'm not even sure if its a friend or an enemy."
Didn't I know that pissing off Project Management was a bad idea?
"In the long run, probably," I answered. "But we have to get this thing organized as soon as possible. Everyone will be expecting Weaponry to be impressive with this amount of autonomy and resources at its disposal. They'll want to see some magic. Any ideas?"
Ghazza actually had a few right then that had to do with a specialized DEW she'd heard tell was being developed somewhere in the black budget world. She had a contact in another star system, and so ran off to send a classified message.
Floy and I then spent some time having a private meeting of our own.
* * *
Weaponry's new digs were going to be re-purposed from an extra workshop of Hull Design's. It didn't look out directly on the big bay, which meant there wasn't as much indiscriminant foot traffic going back and forth. I rather thought that was a shame, because you could always tell the general mood of the place by how manic or lackadaisical people seemed be at any given moment.
We would have our own Team guards outside the room -- a regular post, with a desk and everything. It was scheduled to be built and installed within the week. Since the galleyette was pretty far away, I put in to have another one built out on this end of R&D, just to save us some steps. The freshers were a walk now, too, so I put in for those as well. The others all thought this excessive, but I figured if we were going to do it, we may as well do it right.
Barney called at one point just to tell me our friend was still MIA, despite ex-StaSec detectives scouring all the companionways. That was worrisome, but hardly surprising. Dieter would have had an escape plan in place for some time. How he intended to get out of the star system, I had no idea, but it was a safe bet he had one.
With Team's help, we would have stood a reasonable chance of tracking him down. Once caught, though, he could and almost certainly would reveal everything he knew about Shady Lady. That was a bridge we were not prepared to cross, just yet.
Barney mentioned, in passing, that Mavis had gotten into Engineering. She wouldn't let anyone go in with her, but then came out after only a few minutes, looking very pissed-off. The good news was that starjump was fine: not even repaired -- completely undamaged. But she otherwise confirmed our worst expectations: Dieter had removed certain power connections to the fusion reactor. The jump engine might be fine, but it couldn't get the juice it needed to function. And by removed she meant that the linkages were nowhere to be found. She even dug through the various parts and pieces covered in the tarps. Shady Lady wasn't going anywhere. My roommate rang off after this, and I went back to work, feeling a bit bleak.
Work can be a solace -- especially if you're mired by other things. That being said, shifting boxes and furniture around got old after a while. I eventually appropriated a red delivery drone on its way back from some errand or other, using the magic override code. We had everything moved to the new space in record time after that -- including our big Tri-D table, which everyone thought we'd have to leave behind. Some supply officer noticed the machine doing mundane cargo work, and came over to scold us for inappropriate use of Company equipment. Ghazza told him to write a complaint to our Admin Liaison, and to get out the way, my crap attitude clearing rubbing off.
Ghazz ordered take-out for us, and it felt like another party (except for all the back pain). I'd done enough cargo work in my time that I knew how to lift and carry things properly, but in those circumstances we always wore safety equipment and boostersuits. That kind of stuff wasn't immediately available, and, frankly, I didn't even think of it until the ache set in.
At any rate, we got ourselves completely moved over to the latest new space by the end of the shift, including furnishings and equipment. That sat well with everyone -- even the three grumpy gusses, who had been mollified by the promise of glowing citations from Floy and Ghazza to help them on their way.
Barney called when I was getting ready to leave, stating that he and the Shady Lad
y crew would be waiting at the pub. I mentioned the problem with John and Stinna getting caught and identified while walking around the station, which they'd been fearful of from the start. He assured me that, between a few of StaSec's hidden assets, and SS1 and SS2's exceptional skills, the issue had been seen to (whatever that meant).
Ghazza wanted Floy and I to come over for dinner that night, her husband having prepared a soyroast, but I begged off, giving them that mum's-the-word look that they were familiar with by now. I promised to stop by later, if possible, and encouraged Floyeen to go anyway.
"I'll think about it," she said, then drew me aside and lowered her voice. "I did a little digging about Nine Maelbrott, like you asked."
"Anything?"
"I don't know. His last post is classified. I don't even know what part of space he was in. But I did learn that he was nominated and endorsed for this position by a BoD member named Pianni Treisol. I don't know anything about her, except that she's not a Corporatespace citizen. Foreign investor -- big money; old money. But that's it. Does it help?"
"It might," I replied, and then thanked her. Kissing out in the open would have been inappropriate, but I kissed her with my eyes, and left.
Dashing back to the apartment to shower and change (it had been a sweaty shift), I called Maelbrott's office to let him know that I appreciated how everything had worked out in R&D, and that I anticipated it would lead to greater efficiency between our two offices. I was on the go, and breathy-sounding, so I couldn't do the ironic tone of voice I was shooting for. I just got his voice mail anyway.
No, I didn't know where this was leading. How could I? Though it was starting to look like Shady Lady and its crew might find their way out-system after all, it was also looking like I had compelling reasons to stick around. I would have to go back to the Alliance, most likely -- if only for the sake of filing reports and debriefs and all that. But I could return when those were over.
If commercial gunnery really was drying up, then maybe I could pursue a new career. Twin careers.
Was that madness?
Objectively, standing outside myself, it was almost possible to laugh. Neither covert security and investigations, nor weapon design were in-keeping with my long-term goals, but even this much wouldn't last forever. It was just a moment in my life. Time spent here could be less of a side-track than a short cut, if I just held out. And with the specter of this UH mission finally gone, the rest of it would be manageable.
It was ego to believe all that, of course. Or maybe I was just a twerp, as Jake had pronounced.
Hmm...
CPM06 Jacob Hammerhülse. The more I thought of it, the less I liked how that part had ended.
Sure, the guy was a meathead: loud and stupid. But he had done his job (whatever it was) through thick and thin, and deserved better than this. He was owed something for being used and discarded by the Company, and by me. If there was any way I could help him, I probably would. Jake would have to take his lumps right now, but maybe something could be done for him in the future.
Or not...I mean, even if I could find a way to restore him to his former position, no one in R&D would thank me for it...
And then Dieter was standing in my way.
I had tromped beneath a bridge (really, only a few meters of shadow under a pedestrian overpass) and he just stepped out in front of me. He had on a long lab coat, the like of which many, many people on Mylag Vernier wore as their daily attire.
Neither an egotist, nor a twerp: I was a dreamer, lost in thought when vigilance mattered most.
"Oh, come on!" I complained loudly. "Again, I'm jumped in the street?! What's with this place?"
"We need to talk," the engineer replied. And the hand in his coat pocket agreed with him for me.
OOOOOOOOOO
"It would be well to remember," I stated aloud, "that Churchspace was on to this thing long before United Humanity. There was a leak."
"That would be treason," the admiral observed, not sounding at all surprised.
I shrugged.
"Some might see it as maintaining peace between the Alliance and Churchspace. If and when Fleet gains access to, and implements, this technology, reactionary forces among the Papals will certainly see it as a military threat. Tensions will rise, political rhetoric will turn caustic, and conflict will very likely follow."
"Conjecture," the skinny guy on my side conjectured.
"Agreed," the bald shadow agreed.
"Keep going," the admiral ordered. She wasn't my admiral, but I obeyed.
"With a simple tip-off, the Churchers learned they were about to be out-paced. Going public and making a big political stink would have been worthless, because Corporate could simply deny it. The leap forward this tech represents is so great, few would believe it actually exists without proof. The Papals had no choice but theft. They had to steal the research, or at least some of it, so they could start their own development as soon as possible. To this end, they were given help."
"Why would anyone in either the Alliance or Corporatespace want the Papals to get their hands on improved starjump technology?" This question came from one of the captains at Dusane's side. He sounded intrigued.
"Because it would keep them from panicking," I answered, "yet wouldn't have any serious impact on the military landscape. Even though they'll be diligently working towards parity, Churchspace will still be years late to the soirée. I mean, the technology will spread across the stars sooner or later, so why not keep things on an even keel until it does?"
"And that's your, um, expert opinion?" the Admiral queried, watching me closely.
"No. Actually it isn't. What I just described is a possible rationalization by whoever leaked the info. In my opinion that kind of thinking is in grave error."
"Why?" asked the same captain as before.
"It overlooks the danger posed by a very particular confluence of engineering. In specific, I refer to Ataxite, that massive cathedralship the Papal authority recently christened -- the one made from a huge, hollowed-out asteroid?"
Furrowed brows met me from around the table, so I went on.
"I know you all know about it -- it's been on the newsvids for months now. It was one of those bloated projects that got out hand. They say that, all on its own, the cost of Ataxite's construction put Churchspace into economic recession. It can carry a legion of missionaries, and bring the word of their various gods to iconoclasts and heathens across the length and breadth of settled space. Except that it's too big and slow to get anywhere in anything like a reasonable amount of time. Fuel costs alone are nearly five percent of the national budget!"
Admiral Dusane was scrunching her eyes, making the scars around them appear to intersect. She opened her hands with a snap, implying that a very limited store of patience was being drawn upon.
"Where's the relevance, Mr. Dosantos?"
Others were looking at me with similar levels of confusion and annoyance. The captain who had asked questions worked with his own blurry display for a second, then swiped the air. Immediately, the flag graphic above the table was replaced by a ghostly sculpture.
The cathedralship hung there in all its detailed, and impossibly-complicated glory. Roughly diamond-shaped, its entire surface was crafted into shrines, statues, pillars, entablatures, friezes, bas-reliefs, and so much more. Millions of them! Every square centimeter of the vessel's stoney outer hull (if that's what it was called), had been shaped by human hands. It was a stunning achievement. The sheer audacity involved was staggering -- a true testament to human inspiration and spiritual passion.
I stood and pointed.
"Imagine for a moment, if Ataxite were to be retrofitted with a freejump engine and some weapons of war. A beautifully carved, nearly immobile rock as big as a mountain could suddenly pop up anywhere and blow up anything. It could literally deploy a million troops at a time, and then just vanish. And at that size and density -- I mean, if the name is accurate, Ataxite's meteoric iron composition is very
high -- then not even extensive bombardment by Mass-Effect Weaponry could stop it."
This got stunned murmurs from around the room. Several people were now tapping datapads and looking things up on individual displays.
"Let me get this straight," the admiral asked seriously, "you're implying that a major military threat is already developing because of this incident?"
"Well, on the one hand, there's nothing like a little war to boost a nation's economy. On the other hand, we don't know how much classified data was gathered over time. In addition to expert Churchspace agents, private contractors -- that is, mercenaries -- were also used in this operation. With the way things played out, that could represent a delay or even a breakdown in the information pipe-line."
"The prisoner in custody seems to have been competent enough. Or so you've said."
This was from the guy in the shadows. He was starting to annoy me. That secret agent crap was only amusing when a friend was doing it.
Risk Analysis (Draft 04 -- Reading Script) Page 41
