by Chris Hechtl
“Like the Admiral?”
“No, he has training and is a keymaster. No, this person was largely self-taught. I've read the reports,” Ensign Esh'z clacked. “A cross reference of the name by Ensign Barry,” he indicated the AI avatar who bowed slightly. “Found the name in several places in Antiguan history. Apparently, he did a great deal of innovating there before he left. My supposition is that he was recruited to do the same on Horath.”
“Why would...wait, you mentioned honey trap,” Lieutenant Teague said, rubbing her brow. “I forgot.”
“Yes, the power of a woman. Men have gone to war or built the impossible with that,” Monty quoted.
“True.”
“We have indications that he got the Horathians to look beyond the limits of our industry. To not think of a lack of replicators as a hindrance, but as a challenge. He was famous for finding ways around the locks by creating objects without using a replicator. He could take something apart and work out the manufacturing steps for each part.”
“Sounds like someone we could have used.”
“Can we do something about him?” Ensign Barry asked.
“Like what?”
“He is a legitimate target.”
“Are you talking about assassination?”
“If it comes to that,” the AI said.
“You don't have all the information apparently,” a human ensign stated, coming to his feet briefly. “I picked up in an interview that he died some short time ago. The circumstances were vague. I was trying to get confirmation that he was indeed dead before I reported it.”
“So, you don't have confirmation?” Monty asked.
“Accessing,” Barry said. His eyes shifted as he read a report. “I am updating my files and cross referencing them. According to the files Commander Sprite uploaded they also had indications that he was a major threat level, involved in some sort of cyborg dog. But she found indications that he was recently deceased.”
“And you didn't access that until now?” Monty asked.
Barry spread his hands. “I'm a station AI Commander. My normal job is to maintain order in the Annex and coordinate things there. Only yesterday did Captain Logan make me G-8 Logistics and the Resource Manager remember? And Ensign Kamia as G-6 Communications?”
“Unfortunately, we don't have a dedicated AI team,” Ensign Kamia said softly.
“Something we'll have to rectify,” Monty vowed. He shook himself and then nodded. “Okay, we're starting to get a bit frayed, and I'll speak for the organics when I say we need a break and some refueling. We'll break down into discussion groups after lunch. One to go over what we know about their tech, risk assessment, and changes. A second to look into potential threats based on past and recent behavior. I want to specifically look into the capturing of entire systems and their impact on us. Not just the material and manpower they'll gain.”
“Manpower to some degree, but digesting each will take time. And from what we've picked up Commander, they are instituting genocidal processes on each occupied planet,” Ensign Barry said.
Monty nodded grimly. The room seemed to get colder suddenly.
“So, we know what we've got to fight for. We need to protect what we've got while identifying the targets they'll most likely hit.”
“A strategy board? Isn't that a bit above us?”
“No, we're going to identify potential targets the enemy will go for.”
“We need a third-study group commander,” Teague said, raising her hand. He turned to look at her. “Internal politics.” He made a sour face. He wasn't the only one. She went on doggedly. “We need to measure the political climate, and more importantly, see if it is being influenced by the enemy. Either through contributions or criminal action.”
“Or see if they have information flowing,” Ensign Kamia said softly.
“For now, if we find them we do nothing. We just identify a source and do our best to trace their contact methods while cocooning the leak.”
“Aye, sir.”
“A fourth, the politics of the enemy. Not just how they were formed, but the trends of the population, media, and other factors that all influence their leaders. Dossiers on their leadership and a look at their chain of command,” Ensign Esh'z suggested, glad he could finally contribute something positive to the group.
“More likely, we're going to be using a lot of suppositions here, so we'll have to be careful. But we are asking questions, and that is a good thing. We'll have to come up with a list and find ways and means to fill the gaps,” Monty said, making a note.
“We also need to examine the implications in their changes, for instance, education and medicine. The education means a smarter work force, able to do more. It also means soldiers and sailors who can do more than press buttons and pull triggers. How much can they do?”
“And the medicine part,” Lieutenant Teague said with a nod. “That means they are caring for their own and living longer. Healthier. We may need to bring in a doctor to examine that.”
“And we're going off on tangents. I had a general plan, but everyone is bringing up various thoughts all at once. We'll work on them. If you have a thought, write it down and we'll get to it. But let's try to stay focused on one subject at a time,” Monty said patiently. He looked at the clock. “That's lunch then people. Meet back here in an hour. Dismissed.”
---( | ) --- ( | )---
Jethro frowned ferociously on the shuttle as it docked. He had been called to the Annex to deal with paperwork in person. “It never fails, damn bureaucrats. They can't accept an electronic form, they have to have a body in person. Stupid,” the panther muttered to Bast. The AI purred, but he could tell she was amused by his rant.
He stomped through the corridors, following her map to the personnel and records department. There was no one in the small waiting room. He explained curtly to the woman behind the desk. She smiled politely and handed him a form to fill out. He sighed and took a seat and filled it out.
“As if they don't have all this anyway,” he muttered.
“We have to make certain you are you. And not someone pulling a prank or worse, identity theft,” the woman said from behind him.
Jethro frowned, flicking his ears. He looked at her for a moment. She shrugged. He sighed and went back to the form. Okay, so they might have a small point, he thought.
Once he was finished she pinged his IFF, and then dutifully made a note of it. “Okay, that's it,” she said.
“All done?”
“Yes. We'll update your records.”
“How long will it take?”
“About a month, Gunny, give or take how far back we have to go,” she admitted.
He frowned. That was stupid, it was just a name change. A computer bot could do it. He shook his head, ignoring the problem. “Fine then.”
“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” the woman asked coolly as she eyed him.”
“No, just tired of getting hauled across the star system to fill out a piece of paper. Now I get to go all the way back to go back to work.” he sighed rubbing the small of his back.
“Ah, yes, as I said, it's protocol,” she shrugged as if to say what could they do? He snorted and flitted his ears and tail as he exited the compartment.
He checked the schedule, but there wasn't another shuttle to San Diego for three hours. With nothing to do he decided to hit the mess and snack on something, then catch up with anyone he ran into. He padded to the galley following Bast's directions.
“You're getting good at this,” he teased. “Ever thought of being a tour guide?” he teased as he followed her arrows. She growled at him. He merely smiled back.
He practically ran into his therapist just outside the mess. “Sorry, ma'am, I didn't expect you,” he said.
“It's okay,” she laughed, brushing her front. “I didn't spill the coffee, but it was close,” she said.
“Here on business?” he asked, curious.
“Well, I was, but it was canceled. A
s it happens I've got an opening if you're interested,” she said, cocking her head expectantly. He knew there was just a hint of an order in that. He also knew he couldn't get out of it, and she'd probably do bad things to his record if he didn't cooperate. The problem was doing so with good grace.
“I've got the time, ma'am,” he admitted with a nod.
“You're sure?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, ma’am. Here or in the mess?” he asked. He could smell her perfume over the coffee. It was strong, something flowery. He fought his tear ducts urge to water and made a note to watch out for it in the future. Hopefully, he'd recognize it and avoid the woman again if he could.
“Well, professionally I have to do it in my office so, this way,” she said curtsying slightly as she led the way. He fought a sigh and followed. So much for his planned snack.
“I've read some of your files and the files on your father. I'd like to start there if you don't mind,” she said, taking a seat and indicating the couch.
He grunted but sat. “Why the interest?”
“Oh, just a way to get you to relax and some background,” she said. “And it lets us sneak up on other issues,” she admitted.
“Fine then,” he agreed, sitting reluctantly. “My sire...”
When he was finished with her probing, he was amused and annoyed. He talked with Bast about it as he made his way back to the mess. The AI was curious. “She's got daddy issues or thinks I do. Why the focus on Jet? And she still hasn't twigged to you. I think we'll keep you a secret. I'm starting to understand why. I could just imagine her reaction if she caught me talking to voices. I don't know about an imaginary AI that's been in my family for generations,” he teased.
The AI snorted but as usual said nothing.
---( | ) --- ( | )---
Monty wasn't thrilled about the results of the intel workshop, but he'd at least gotten a few things out of it. Productive things or so he hoped. For one they had an AI assigned to the prison station, Klink. For another, he had been surprised by Ensign Esh'z and his suggestion that they give the prisoners implants. But more importantly, ident and monitoring implants they wouldn't know about. That had made him stop and think about that carefully. Esh'z had done a good job laying the idea out, which had pleased the Commander. There were probably some legal hurdles, but Monty didn't care. He had no intention of using what they heard and saw in court. He was a student of history; he remembered Bletchley Park, Ultra, and the Enigma machines. Such a critical source of intelligence would have to be carefully handled. They would have to find back stories for information, and if necessary, draw supporting intelligence from other sources...or not act on it at all unless it was vitally important.
He played with the toy balls on his desk. So old, the shiny chrome balls, yet simple, he thought. He didn't know how old they were, he thought as they clacked together. Five of them, strung from runners attached to a block, all suspended in a line. A simple physics demonstrator, but more he'd come to realize over time. A demonstration of action and reaction, yes, but also one of planning and anticipation. If one knew what the balls would do, you would know the outcome. He intended to do that for the Navy. They needed knowledge in order to anticipate the enemies’ actions before they struck.
The problem for him, he thought with a pang as he sat back and watched the little balls dance, was that he kept waiting, kept watching. He knew it was important to act, but he also knew he didn't have the right instincts to call such actions. He loved spying, but...he shook his head.
Take for instance his domestic network. He had quite a building network in the system, and he had a lot of evidence against Walker and his people. But that knowledge was a two-edged sword, if he used it then it exposed his agents. If mishandled it would inoculate the bastard too; he could scream about a witch hunt. So, until he was certain which way to jump Monty kept the knowledge closely held.
---( | ) --- ( | )---
Jethro had his work cut out for him with the Marines in the system. Those that had graduated from boot camp were okay, but they had started to slack off with the boredom and lack of monitoring. They were in the process of correcting that.
Valenko was bouncing all over the system. Major Pendeckle had camped out in the Annex since San Diego was such a mess. Ensign Esh'z was in that intel conference in the academy, so he was too wrapped up to help. Most of the senior officers and even some of the juniors were mixed up in that, so the enlisted were mostly left to their own devices.
To some that meant an invitation to slack off, goof, party, and sleep in. Jethro as senior noncom had put an end to that. He hadn't made any friends in the process, but he wasn't there to make friends and they knew it.
Once he was back on San Diego he worked hard with the squads to get the marginal Marines sorted out. They had organized GI parties to clean the barracks and compartments. Soon Marines were all over base scrubbing with tooth brushes. A few grumbled robots could do it faster and better.
“That's not the point. You should have never let it get to this point. You need to get used to work again. So get it done Marine, no excuses,” Jethro growled. The Marine grunted but kept working. Jethro watched with approval for a minute before he moved on.
The Marine side of the base was a mess but not just the public areas. Paperwork wasn't being processed right; he knew that. But there were logistic issues and other problems. Some could easily be handled but weren't. For instance, there were sections of the base that had the parts, but the parts were just sitting there unused. They were waiting on the engineers to get around to it. He put a stop to that.
Since he'd arrived on the base there was no more racking out all day, or playing cards or watching the VID. No, he had every enlisted off his ass and moving, and even some of the newly-minted midshipmen and ensigns. They had to keep up just to keep from looking bad.
The first week in he'd assigned a clerk to find him Marines with tech experience. Once he had a squad he put them to work getting the spaces squared away. They'd grumbled about it not being their job, but after the first day and a couple compliments on a job well done, they'd felt better about it. Once they'd finished the gym's wiring and life support he'd kicked them out and brought in a group of Marines to do the heavy lifting of bringing the equipment in and setting it up. Reading the directions to get it sorted out had been an exercise in patience, but they'd gotten it done in two days. The following day the gym had opened, and the work crews had been back slapped and congratulated by so many Marines they'd thrown themselves whole heartedly into the next project without any objection.
Jethro's efforts to get the Marine side not only squared away but fully online came to the attention of Major Pendeckle and the newly-promoted Captain Horatio Logan who praised him and the Marines for their initiative. “Anything we can do to help, Gunny?” Captain Logan asked. He'd taken the time to come by and look in on them.
He'd been in the academy and looked tired. Trying to keep up with the debate...he shook himself. The spooks loved to pick things apart and triple think, talking themselves to death. He had other things to do.
“Sir, I've got a list. We could use some support,” Jethro said cautiously.
Horatio grunted. “Well, as it happens we've finally got a handle on the logistics for the time being so shoot it up the chain. Hell, shoot it to me. Anyone gives you grief tell them to talk to me,” he said.
“Aye aye, sir,” Jethro said, sending him the files.
Horatio nodded, scanning the list. “Good grief, you don't want much do you?” he asked, sounding amused.
“As much as you can spare, sir,” Jethro said. “I want to get this sorted out and Pendleton fully online,” he said.
“Me too son, so I'll give you your head and as much support as I can drum up. You won't be able to hang onto everything forever, but I think we can lend you some of the equipment for a month or two.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jethro said with a nod.
“Carry on,” Logan said, slapp
ing him on the shoulder. Jethro came to attention and saluted. Horatio nodded and saluted, then went on his way.
A couple days later the first of the equipment and supplies arrived, surprising and pleasing the Marines. For the past year they'd largely gotten leftovers, ignored and neglected since the bulk of the Marines had left the system. Now Captain Logan provided them with a small class 1 replicator, power supply, training materials, construction equipment, mechs, tons of supplies, and other materials and told Jethro in a note to do what he could with them.
Jethro was bewildered by the largess. He called Valenko, who had come by for a special presentation at the academy. “What the hell? I'm in over my head, Captain,” he said.
“See? Open your big mouth...” Valenko said.
Jethro opened his mouth to protest and then closed it with a clop. “Okay, I asked for that. But I was the man on the ground when the base in Agnosta was set up. I never handled the paperwork and coordinating side. Hell, I spent most of my time as a DI there, remember?”
“When you weren't off playing experimental pilot or brainstorming more work for others,” Valenko teased.
Jethro snorted. “So, um...boss, not to sound needy or anything...”
Valenko eyed him and then sighed theatrically. “Well, if I must I must. As it happens I did have a hand in the set up on Agnosta, and I know the basics. Are you following the plan?”
“Plan? I think that's over my head,” Jethro admitted. “I've more or less identified an area and then thrown enough bodies at it to get it done,” he said.
“Which means some are working, and others are goofing off. There are tricks to getting it done. Let's see here...”
“Most of the other officers are in the academy with the training and that seminar,” Jethro said.
“The intel shop? They were supposed to be done by now,” Valenko rumbled thoughtfully, scratching his chin. He shrugged. “No matter, we'll get it done,” he said. “I'll check on the chain of command while I'm at it,” he said. “There is no reason everyone has to be in that mess or sucking down the booze at the O’club all damn day,” he muttered, stalking off.
