That night, the Vernier Vipers got together in the pub. Stinna was there, too, with an honest-to-goodness yellow basket. You wouldn't believe the fawning-over I got! They were simply wonderful, one and all. We drank and Barney had the manager put on some music (I didn't know they even had a sound system in there). Elaki dragged me out to a small space between a couple of occupied tables, and we danced like fools.
After this, well-and-truly lubricated, we swooped over to the Recreation Center and invaded the smackball court. We cut right in front of the Life Support Lightning, which had a scheduled practice session just then. They complained heartily but we ignored them, throwing the ball around, shouting, singing. Stinna screeched when the ball flew by her at one point, very fast and close. She retreated to the lounge then, all interest in the game vanishing like steam or love.
After this, the others ganged-up, scooping me into their arms and doing a One-Two-Three action. I screamed in honest terror when they tossed me in the air, to land with a hard bump up on the plug! I got to my feet, and looked up at my former teammates standing above my head, themselves looking up at me. They were laughing and whistling and cheering. Barney grinned, and it was wide and honest and kind.
Elaki had to get a boost up to help me off there, since there was no way I could jump high enough, myself, to escape even half-a-gee. They tried to catch me coming back down (screaming again), but a fat man in motion is a hard thing to control, and they collapsed under me. Elaki dropped down on top. She seemed to weigh almost nothing, and we all howled.
* * *
I was badly hung-over the next day. A priority message came in from Maelbrott's office, but I couldn't handle that guy right then, so I let it go to archive. I showered and shaved, and used chemical analgesics as well as a nerveblock, because the barleywine and graino shots had been plentiful.
At some point, I remembered to check the arrivals again, and swore loudly when I saw the time. I placed a couple of calls while dressing.
Thus it was I found myself leaning on the buzzer for Siddel's door. It wasn't exactly early, but it felt like it to me.
He answered in a robe, yawning, and was surprised to see me standing there. I pushed in before he could ask what was up, and planted myself on the armrest of a plush chair in the living room. This place was almost a clone of Barney's and mine.
"Lazarus rises," he muttered, shutting the door. "Make yourself at home."
"Thanks."
"Sorry I didn't let you know when I arrived, Ejoq. The trip here was insane! I just got in, and crashed. What time is it?"
"Ten-hundred. I'm sorry, too, Sid, but we really need to talk."
"No, no. It's fine," he assured, sitting on the couch. His hair was tousled, and he looked happy to see me. "I read the prelims that Fleet put together, back on Bluelight. It's amazing! Ejoq, what you pulled off..."
"Yeah, it was pretty hairy there for a while. Look, this thing is wrapping up, and it seems like everybody is content, or at least getting there. The impact will be big. Huge. And I'm only involved because you championed me to Meerschaum and UH."
"It was my pleasure. You know that. Really, you did me a favor. They were having trouble pulling together a crew."
"There were a lot of times I cursed you for being so thoughtful," I confessed, and he chuckled. "But I believe I did some good here, and I'm trying to stay focused on that."
"Good. That's great. So, what's up?"
I looked at him. He was sleepy, but curious.
"The records seem to have a few holes. Do you know who it was that recruited Dieter?"
"I'm...not sure," he answered, thinking through a foggy brain. "He came down through us. That is, Meerschaum. Someone in the upper offices over in Tyree was probably working with him. Either that, or they did a lousy job on the background check. Fleet's turned that part over to AIN Intelligence Branch. They'll probably interview me in the near future. Thanks for that."
I smiled. His super-spy look was on the shelf now. That was just a show when he needed to impress people. He didn't need to impress me.
I knew what he was really like.
"The thing is, Sid...no one in the Meerschaum head office knew about the true nature of this mission. They knew about the treaty verification, but not what was actually here, waiting for us to find. Because we were supposed to discover the freejump technology."
"How could anyone have known it was here?"
"Oh, it's been an open secret in the intelligence communities across space for some time. AIN is even an active investor in this project, though not through Fleet."
"How do you know that?" he asked. I had his full attention now.
"It was more-or-less confirmed. Unofficially. Plus, I never saw even one Fleet uniform the whole time I was here. If they had money in the project, you better believe they'd have had their own engineers watching what was going on. Maybe there were some AINIB spooks floating around, acting as advisors or something, but if so, I never caught a whiff. There was, however, an active espionage ring in place. Proper spies, as well as mercenaries. Some of them even held key positions in R&D and Station Admin -- at least, until the personnel shake-up happened and Team took over."
"Well, if there was a leak on the Alliance side of the border," Dieter proposed, brainstorming with me, "it was either in AIN Intel, or United Humanity. Wi'iloni, maybe?"
"That was my initial thought, too," I told him, "except, as you say, Dieter came down through Meerschaum, which didn't have any details early on. Annia Wi'iloni was working to get this mission greenlighted for a long time, though. She tried everything: closed-door meetings with her bosses; extensive legal research; and all that ship data she showed us. She talked to a lot of people, trying to get some buzz going, hoping UH would move forward with her project. Understand, she wasn't under any legal prohibition not to talk about a job that didn't, at that time, exist. Rookie mistake."
"So you do think she let it slip."
"Maybe," I observed, "but all she had to leak was some strange traffic data. That didn't even impress her own people for several years. No, Churchspace was already running a targeted campaign by the time Ms. Wi'iloni generated any enthusiasm. In fact, her insight and persistence is the one thing no one could have seen coming. When did she first approach Meerschaum, again?"
He still wasn't doing the spy thing, but the sleepy-head thing was gone now. As was the friendly thing.
"Pretty early on."
"And you dealt with her back then, correct?"
"Yes. What are you implying?"
"Well, you said it yourself. You wanted out. You were getting married. You were tired of dealing with bureaucrats and middle managers. I know you still have some shady connections from your days as a freelancer, but maybe the Churcher operatives came to you. Maybe they made an offer. I'm sure you never intended any harm."
"Ejoq, I have no idea what you're talking about, and frankly, I'm a little insulted by your insinuations."
"See, it just never made any sense to me! I turned it over and over in my head, Sid. Why would they send out Jaybird, such a precious vehicle, to do battle with an unknown entity? It was a ridiculous risk. An appalling one! Unless...they didn't think there actually was any risk."
"Ejoq, I'm tired, all right?"
But he didn't sound tired. He sounded very much awake.
"I've seen the reports on what little wreckage was recovered from the spy ship that Liquidator splashed. It took a mighty effort, but they actually got some. It was ID'd as an ordinary Bothos Class Cruisemaster -- but one that had a Kranikat stealth suite installed."
"Okay. That's just a small ship. Crew of three or four, I think. So what?"
"So, it doesn't exactly scream of deep pockets, the way UH's budget for Shady Lady did. Kranikats provide a decent level of stealth, but far from perfect. It could only remain hidden if it kept its distance, and, especially, if no one was actively looking for it. You know Cruisemasters. They're favorites for ship modders. You can put in defensive system
s, extra sensors, or even stealth. But they've got one major drawback: something called an Item-S engine compartment. An Item-S is so small, you can't fit anything bigger than a 2.4 gigawatt power plant converter inside. That's enough to run starjump and weapons, or starjump and a Kranikat...but not both. And they sure didn't crawl here at sub-light."
"Which means...?"
"Which means they were not armed. They were out there to send and receive encrypted messages only. When Shady Lady was detected, the Churchspace operatives on-station panicked. What other ship could we have possibly been but theirs? If Team captured it, the spy ring was sunk. They needed that ship killed to maintain their own cover. They sent the only vessel in existence that could have out-paced Team fighters in that situation: Jaybird. It jumped, expecting an unarmed foe."
"But it found your ship, instead," he commented, sounding judgemental, which was an ugly tone on him.
"Yes it did. That fight was pushed on us. We tried to stop it. Tried to call both them and the station. We tried to run. When those things didn't work, and they came at us again, I did what I was hired to do. They're dead, and by my hand -- but I wasn't the one that got them killed."
"I had nothing to do with it, either...with anything you just said."
"No? Then maybe you could explain the transfer of sixty-two million to a dummy account in the Alliance, two years ago, from a Churchspace financial house. Fleet, AINIB, UH, and Meerschaum brought along all the statistical and accounts-related crap for this mission. It goes back a long way. And what a mess! No pattern, no clear leads. So I had John and Stinna take a look, and to them, it was just data analysis. They worked together without fighting for a change. They sifted the info, and saw it all plain as daylight. Can you possibly guess what was purchased from a second-hand dealership out Greenbelt way with this money?"
"Ejoq..."
"The entire build-bond of a Bothos Cruisemaster, paid off in hard credit! You don't see that too often, do you?"
"This isn't proof of anything," he said quietly, in a tone that sounded like a confession. But tones aren't enough.
"If you had half the training you pretend to, Siddel, you'd know that it is. All ships registered in the Alliance have a Scan Code for identification purposes. The superstructure is sampled with micro X-ray lasers; the metal gets modeled right down to the molecular level. This model is kept on record and used as the basis for the ship's registration with the Route Management Authority. It's part of the official ID in a vessel's transponder, and it's noted on all legal sales records. The Code can be extrapolated from a single piece of wreckage if the right equipment and expertise are on hand. Team has both here. You left a trail, Sid."
He was looking at the floor by this point, and breathing hard.
"What are you going do?"
"People died. What should I do?"
"I never meant...I mean, it wasn't supposed to be like that! This was just about information! It wasn't life and death stuff! I would never have gotten involved in killing, Ejoq, you know that!"
"I believe you got in over your head, but that doesn't change what happened."
"Look, they did come to me, but Wi'iloni's work was so vague back then, I figured there was no harm in passing it on! Her UH bosses weren't listening to her anyway, so, if someone wanted to pay me for it, why not?"
"How did they pay you, Siddel?" I asked. "Your personal accounts are enviable, but they're all clean."
He looked conflicted. He shook his head, but answered anyway.
"They hired Meerschaum to organize a small ship purchase, and they insisted I handle the account by myself. The commission on that was my payment, free and clear, along with a bonus for overseeing the modifications."
"This was for the Bothos?"
He nodded, looking at the floor again.
"Did you know about Dieter?"
"No! I haven't had contact with those people since the ship purchase went through. I was shocked when UH decided to move forward with this mission. Dieter Voxel was not my guy, believe me."
"Should I?" I really wanted to know. I wanted to find a way to trust him. He was a nice guy. I'd always thought so.
"Come on! We've been friends for years! I can't...I can't go to prison! Gerry and I set the date! Day-225! I want you to be my best man!"
"I like you Sid, but we're not friends. A friend doesn't make a mess like this, then send the other in blindly."
"I made a mistake, all right?!" he pleaded, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry! You don't have to do this."
"You only have one way out. This operation runs through two nations -- three, if you count Churchspace. It employs killers and spies. If you agree to cooperate, and tell Team and Fleet what they want to know, I'll do everything in my power to swing a deal for you. I can't speak for anyone else, and I can't promise anything, but you better believe that the only way forward here is with the truth. Like you said, you made a mistake. You want to put it right. That buys you points. They might wave some prison time -- maybe all of it, if your info is good enough. I'm asking you to do the right thing."
"Don't! Please, I'm begging you Ejoq! I just needed the money! We've been planning the wedding for years, you know that! It was killing us! We would have been starting our lives together with nothing! Scrimping and saving, and still not able to buy a home for my husband? You call that fair? How is that fair?! I didn't mean any harm...I didn't think anyone would get hurt!"
He was on the floor now, blubbering, deflated, the ice cold spy-guy light-years away, probably still in a meeting somewhere, impressing the middle management.
"I believe you, Sid. It's the only reason you're still breathing."
He looked up in alarm, but couldn't meet my gaze.
Siddel dropped his head one last time, crying with abandon -- but he nodded, and that was enough.
The door to his apartment opened, and all the soldiers came in.
* * *
A shake-up within the Montaro Board of Directors was ongoing.
Rumor had it that there was even some bloodshed involved, though everyone's version of events was different. Most of what I learned came from newsvids.
I never did hear anything back from CPM10 Mannix Farlington -- or anyone else up there on Mount Olympus. I guess they were busy sorting out priorities and loyalties and lies. Or maybe they were just throwing a steady stream of cocktail parties, and couldn't be bothered with the petty concerns of mere mortals.
The President of the corporate coalition that composed The Montaro TransStellar Commercial Federation was still in place, along with her VP's, senior project leaders, administrative services, and, most importantly, Team's entire command staff. Corporate Security had decided to take its cue from the boss, instead of the boss' bosses. Territorial leadership was in place, therefore, and a steady work-a-day ambiance for most people was maintained throughout the BoD troubles.
A few days after Siddel was arrested, I got a call from CPS09 Byron Maelbrott's office. He needed to see me. I hadn't spoken to that guy since I'd gotten back. I hadn't even returned his earlier call. I cc'd all my reports and evidence to his staff, but never once got a simple acknowledgement. This had to be something special, though, since he ordered one of the escorting guards to strongly insist that I answer my comm.
So I did, and then went over to Team HQ, as instructed.
Maelbrott didn't keep me waiting, and he didn't take peevish exception to my lack of protocol when I walked in and plopped down in the chair across from his desk. CPS08 Amanda Kesselior was there, face drawn, lips tight. A couple other uniformed jokers stood nearby as well, all with grave countenances.
The Nine, though, was smiling.
"I hate you, Dosantos," the man declared, eyes bright, excitement barely contained.
"Back at you, beautiful," I replied, giving him the gun finger, and a wink.
Whatever this was, it was good, and likely his finishing move, so I sure as heck wasn't going down without some pettiness. Give the man his due, he
didn't rise to the bait.
"I can't seem to touch you on this end of the job," he confessed, leaning back, hands in his lap. His flunkies never changed expressions. "But my brother-in-law just made Senior Administrator over in Border Security. They've just issued a Persona Non Grata warrant with your name on it. That's a Priority One Territorial Security Dispatch. It cannot be over-ridden, save through an Upper Management exception. Tell me, have you heard anything from your pals on Interstar lately?"
He waited for my reply, smiling. They all waited. I just chuckled.
Amanda Kesselior had a folded piece of paper in her hand, and, with a nod from her senior officer, stepped forward and gave it to me.
"CPM07 Ejoq Dosantos," Maelbrott went on, "you are hereby served. You are no longer welcome in this part of space. Effective immediately, your Cross-Border Pass for Corporate Territory has been revoked. You have exactly twenty-four hours to put yourself on a shuttle heading out to the rimstay, where you will undergo a comprehensive search for any Montaro property or data. After this you will be placed upon the first available ship heading out of the Territory."
I thought his grin would split his head in half, and I was downright disappointed when it didn't.
"Very, very good," I allowed, and kept laughing lowly as the others started speaking. They informed me of my rights and obligations under the terms of the warrant. My escort was being dismissed. I was not under arrest unless I failed to comply. Severing my obligations here, including any personal or professional responsibilities, was entirely on me. If I could somehow keep my job while being ushered out the door, well, that was good. If not, that was less good, but no one's problem but my own.
I conceded defeat with a nod of my head, and Maelbrott loved every moment. It's a good feeling, bringing joy into a man's life; I left the Nine's office feeling lighter than I had in a long time.
Mavis told me that Shady Lady was just about ready to leave, if I wanted to go home that way. We would even have a gunboat escort out to the jump point. I took her up on the offer. Chris, John, and Stinna had seen enough of that ship for a lifetime, and were using commercial transport to get home. The Meerschaum techs had set the Engineering systems on full automatic. Mavis would have to check on it now and then, but if we were just going from Point-A to Point-B, they assured us we wouldn't need an Engine Specialist aboard. That was good news, because the last one hadn't left me in my happy place.
Risk Analysis (Draft 04 -- Reading Script) Page 46
