by Alex Lamb
‘Ara, drop the stealth-shield, please,’ she said. ‘Carol, bring the spectroscopy SAP to full awareness, and River, a low-intensity X-ray on target three, if you wouldn’t mind.’
A lance of invisible energy spat out from the Griffin’s hull, skewering one of the drones. It ballooned into a sphere of yellow flame, littering the surrounding desert with debris.
Ann surveyed the blast site with grim satisfaction. ‘Do we have a signature?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Carol. ‘Trace presence of naznite confirmed.’
‘Disappointing but expected,’ said Ann. ‘Carol, can you land those other drones at this point?’
‘On it. I’ve still got their drone security cracked – they haven’t even tried to cycle it yet. I’ll take control and land those puppies now.’
‘Excellent. And please download a copy of their flight plan. Make sure it tallies with the information our crawlers provided.’
‘Of course, ma’am. Correlating … We have a match. Confidence is one hundred per cent.’
Ann sighed to herself. After more than a week of waiting, the entire grubby episode was finally at an end. She hadn’t enjoyed the mission. Her cover as an SAP sanity inspector had bored her. She disliked the bland Frontier-fare that Yonaguni offered for food and entertainment and found the smug attitudes of the colonists downright objectionable. The fact that the kind of plot she’d witnessed here could unfold at a colony a mere three light-years from New Panama struck her as a worrying sign of the times. Three light-years was practically next door. How long before the unrest reached the regional capital itself?
During the course of her career, Ann had watched tensions at the Frontier steadily worsen and IPSO’s job grow ever more difficult. After the end of Earth’s crusade and the fall of the Kingdom of Man, IPSO had been little more than a symbolic presence – an armed statement of unity to encourage cooperation during the difficult adjustment that followed Interstellar War. Over the years that followed, it had become the most thinly stretched and poorly funded policing body in human history.
In part, that was down to the sheer amount of space they were supposed to look after these days. On top of the fifteen original human colonies, they now had thirteen new ones to protect in that region of the galaxy formerly dominated by the extinct Fecund – the so-called Far Frontier. But the real problem wasn’t the distances, it was the people. These days, every time an IPSO monitoring mission turned its back, another fight broke out.
Krotokin and his people simply hadn’t expected the beleaguered Fleet to notice and so had barely bothered to hide what they were doing. They didn’t expect the Fleet to care, either. Sadly, they weren’t far wrong. Krotokin had been spotted simply because of his startling incompetence. Ann dearly wished they could have delegated the entire sting to a package of legal SAPs, but you didn’t arrest a planetary president without showing up in person.
‘River,’ said Ann, ‘please forward a copy of our findings to the local Fleet office and send another to Messaging Central for release on the next scheduled mail-flight.’
‘Done, ma’am.’
‘Lovely. Now put in a call to President Krotokin, please, override code Balmer. We’re on our way.’
Ann got up from her seat and strode around the sauntering pedestrians, heading straight for the presidential office. Abruptly, her two heavies dropped their student act, jumped up and followed her. They moved with animal menace, their clean white smiles now tucked out of sight. Warning lights in Ann’s view-field told her that their killtech had come online.
Through the buds in her ears, she heard the incongruous music of the wait signal on the presidential line – some kind of Bhangra-Mahler hybrid.
‘He’s not answering,’ said River.
‘Of course not,’ said Ann. ‘Are you tracking him?’
‘He’s still in the boardroom. Wait. Scratch that. They’re moving. In the corridor, going east.’ He threw a window into the corner of her view-field.
At the entrance to the offices, a couple of guardbots advanced towards her. They stopped the moment her override hit them and moved quietly aside.
‘Is transit locked down?’ said Ann.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ said River.
‘Good, because we’re at the stairs.’
Ann marched straight up from the lobby level to Admin One, a huge expanse of near-empty workspace dotted with loungers and sports equipment for the bureaucrats to use. A few of them looked up in confusion as her team passed.
‘He’s down a level. Make that two,’ said River. ‘He’s headed for the events area.’ Ann’s map updated.
‘Perfect,’ she said. ‘I’ll meet him there.’
She bounded up another two floors in the mild gravity to the expansive ballroom where Krotokin held his parties. She scanned it rapidly.
‘Not seeing him.’
‘In the back,’ said River. ‘Building specs say it’s a kitchen.’
Ann jogged across the carpeted acres with Carl and Mimi right behind her. How typical of Krotokin’s administration to install a physical kitchen. Here they were at the Far Frontier and he still wanted to show off by having his event food prepared by people? Still, she supposed, it created jobs for new arrivals. No doubt that was how Krotokin justified the budget for it.
Ann rounded the partition at the edge of the ballroom to find Krotokin striding towards her with four of his cronies behind him. He stopped abruptly. Carl and Mimi took up position, hands flexing in readiness.
‘Ah, Mr President,’ said Ann. ‘So glad I found you. Taking a tour of the facilities, I see.’
Krotokin regarded her coolly with his jowly, bulldog frown. He adjusted his formal hoodie, tugging at the platinum-tipped cords.
‘Who am I speaking to, please? And do you have an appointment?’
‘I am Captain Andromeda Ng-Ludik of the IPS Griffin, and I’m here to notify you that the drones fired by your administration at the unregistered settlement of Pyotor’s Dream have been seized. You and your cabinet are hereby formally charged with intent to commit an act of war.’
Krotokin regarded her with displeasure and managed to look bored.
‘Those drones weren’t fired, Captain Ludik, they were sent. We received a request for battery materials. We were delivering them. You have made a mistake, I fear, and an embarrassing one.’
Ann smiled. ‘Spectroscopic analysis of a detonated sample drone indicates otherwise. The material you were delivering contained trace quantities of the hyperoxidizing agent naznite, rendering it extremely combustible. That’s an unlikely ingredient for a battery mix, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Ridiculous. And if it’s true, I have no idea—’
‘Spare me the bluster, Mr President,’ said Ann. ‘Your planet has been under continuous observation for the last nine days. We followed the delivery of naznite into your system and know both where it was sourced and who it was delivered to. We know the name of the shell company your administration used to hide the purchase and have a complete record of their transactions over the last business quarter. If you didn’t want to be noticed, you shouldn’t have tried to save money by sourcing the chemical from a lab on New Panama rather than manufacturing it yourself. You are at liberty to debate these details, of course, but please keep your protestations for the tribunal. My crew and I are bored of watching your world. We would like to move on to filing your arrest and concluding this unfortunate chapter.’
Krotokin’s face wrinkled up. ‘Arrest? What do you mean, arrest?’
‘What does it sound like?’ said Ann. ‘If you connect me to your legal SAP, I will present the charge via download for you to consider at your leisure. Once the local constables have taken you into custody, of course.’
‘Since when did this become a matter for arrest?’ Krotokin sounded genuinely surprised.
‘Since you started breaki
ng IPSO law,’ said Ann patiently.
Just listening to the man made her angry. The fact that he’d shown little more creativity in his actions than the average janitorial SAP did little to blunt her frustrations.
Krotokin glared at her with a wounded expression. ‘Are you aware that in the last year, three more Flag Drops have settled on this world?’ he said, his voice rising. ‘Or that eight of my people have died in terrorist raids? Or that we have lost millions in research revenues due to the mindless looting of scientific sites? The people you’re protecting here have even tried to hold our water supply for ransom, for crissake. Yet because of IPSO law, we’re still expected to provide them with protein, heavy metals and whatever else they decline to bring for themselves. Every damned year our planet has thousands more immigrants to feed. Immigrants who arrive with complete disregard for legal process and who expect us to support them while they operate without any respect for our laws.’
Ann couldn’t have felt less moved. ‘You may want to be careful about incriminating yourself further, Mr President. These remarks could be taken as a confession.’
‘My point is this,’ said Krotokin. ‘If one of my people, for their own misguided reasons, chose to tamper with a delivery to these parasites, I could hardly blame them. One might ask why nothing happens when the habitats of legitimate colonists are under attack. But the moment their frustration drives them to make a single mistake, the Fleet shows up to punish them!’
Ann summoned a sense of calm and tried not to shout her reply. ‘Perhaps it’s because the crimes you’re describing are minor and should be handled by your local IPSO representative. Whereas the deliberate bombing of a population site occupied by more than four thousand people is an act of outright war.’
‘If it is such a thing,’ Krotokin growled, ‘then clearly you’re on the wrong side of it, Captain Ludik. I will have my people investigate this matter and identify the actual culprit. In the meantime, I recommend you take this up with Commissioner Bak, who I believe needs to be consulted before charges can be filed.’
In other words, the local IPSO representative in question – the person who should have been on top of the conspiracy from the start.
Krotokin waved urgently to his aides. Abruptly, a call icon appeared in Ann’s view-field.
‘Incoming call,’ said River Chu. ‘It’s Commissioner Bak.’
‘Now there’s a coincidence,’ Ann drawled. She turned to her heavies. ‘Make sure they don’t leave.’ She swivelled and stepped back towards the ballroom for a little privacy.
‘Put him through,’ she said.
Commissioner Bak’s chiselled features appeared on the video feed wearing an expression of thinly concealed anxiety. Ann could see a swimming pool behind him, backed by one of Yonaguni’s more ostentatious faux-Parisian villas.
‘Captain Ludik!’
‘Commissioner Bak, I assume you received my report.’
‘I did!’ said Bak. ‘Welcome to Yonaguni! I do wish you’d called when you first arrived.’ He pushed a strand of damp blond hair aside and tried for a winning smile.
‘As do I, Commissioner,’ she lied. ‘However, the mission profile required stealth – given the rank of the suspects involved, I could not contact you without risk of interception. I do hope you understand.’
‘Of course!’ said Bak. ‘And please, call me Darrel.’ Ann could see him struggling to figure out exactly how badly compromised his position had just become. ‘Though I strongly advise you to be circumspect in your choice of next steps,’ he added earnestly. ‘The political situation here on Yonaguni is very delicate. We’ve had a great deal of difficulty keeping the Flags and Colonials from each other’s throats, as you can see. But what may be less clear is that a conviction for the president would likely only cause a more radicalised faction to take power, which would lead to further violence and yet more convictions. Do you get my drift?’
Unfortunately, Ann did. While she questioned his motivation, he was probably right.
‘And I think we both understand that there are also certain moral issues at play in this case,’ Bak continued. ‘It would send the wrong signal for the Fleet to be seen siding with Flags, surely? It would certainly make things harder for our organisation to function.’
Ann tried not to grimace at his clumsy subtext. He was clearly referring not to the Fleet, but to the Frontier Protection Party. When legal colonists became infuriated with the Flags’ constant nibbling on their turf, they joined the FPP. The movement had started out reasonably enough but subsequently degenerated into rabble-rouser politics and anti-Flag bullying.
‘I can see the difficulty of your position given your assigned mission goals,’ said Bak. ‘But maybe we can find a way to help you meet your targets while … softening the impact on local politics?’
Ann tried to contain her disapproval. She knew Bak was an FPP supporter from the pro-Colonial events she’d attended that had been arranged by the Rumfoord League. Having seen her at those same meetings, Bak no doubt assumed he could take her politics for granted. But then, like most people, Bak had no idea that the Rumfoord League existed, or that there was anything going on at those events other than the usual Flag-bashing rhetoric. All Bak knew was that she appeared to be deeper into Colonial politics than he was.
Nothing made Ann more uncomfortable than reactionaries assuming she shared their views. Being mixed up with idiots like the FPP made her feel dirty. She’d suspected Bak of being in on the entire Krotokin affair from the start, which was why she’d kept him out of the loop. His attitude now did little to alleviate her suspicions.
‘Commissioner Bak, my position here is clear,’ she said. ‘I have no choice but to uphold the rule of law.’
A second icon appeared in her view. This one had River Chu’s marker on it and a private security code. Her words dried up. An icon like that could only mean one thing – fresh data from the League. Besides her, River was the only other person aboard with access. He must have received a reply ping from Messaging Central when he submitted their report. Something had been waiting for them on the stack while they were in stealth mode. It could have been there for days, she realised with alarm. They’d never expected Krotokin to take more than a week to make his move.
‘One moment, please,’ she told the commissioner. She paused the comms feed and opened the attached message. It contained a single phrase: Constant Flies.
Her insides crunched tight. It had finally happened, then – the moment the League had been planning for. The dreadful years of creeping around behind the backs of the Fleet were finally over and all the awful secrets they’d kept from the rest of IPSO would finally come out. But who knew how long the message had languished? She didn’t have a second to waste. They’d have to return to New Panama immediately.
Frustrating though it was, her current mission would have to be resolved without her. Her crew would be confused, of course, and probably upset, so she’d need to concoct some explanation for why they weren’t sticking around to nail the crooks to the wall. It could have been worse, though. At least they got to catch the president.
She turned the feed back on.
‘Commissioner … Darrel. I have considered my options and one alternative has just come to light.’
‘Please,’ said Bak. ‘Go on?’
‘Effective immediately, I am handing over resolution of the case to you.’
Bak blinked at her, suddenly wary at being handed his ideal solution with so little effort.
‘I’m not sure I follow.’
‘I have an executive order permitting me to delegate responsibility for concluding this affair. If it would smooth local politics, I could delegate to you.’
‘It undoubtedly would,’ said Bak, ‘but are you sure you’re comfortable with handing it off?’
‘No, Darrel,’ she said. ‘Not comfortable at all. But then I don’t imagine
you will be, either. A final report must be filed at local Fleet HQ within twenty days showing a satisfactory resolution. If I leave you in charge, an interim report will have to go with me, containing my recommendations for legal next steps. You will need to reconcile any decisions you make with those findings and register them with the War Crimes Court. Do you accept responsibility for the case?’
Bak peered at her, trying to comprehend her sudden U-turn. The risk of professional entrapment clearly scared him. Ann could tell she was going to have to make it easy for him.
‘It would benefit our organisation if you were to resolve this locally and let me get on my way,’ she said.
Bak’s eyes lit up. ‘Of course! I see what you mean – clearly this matter must be taken seriously.’
‘I need to be able to trust you on this,’ she said, knowing full well she could not. ‘Our organisation cannot afford for the rule of law to be seen to weaken. Do you understand?’
‘You can rely on me,’ said Bak earnestly. ‘I won’t let you down.’ With the twin prospects of career disaster and jail apparently indefinitely postponed, his smile broadened. ‘Those responsible will be dealt with most severely.’
‘River,’ said Ann, ‘please send the report codes for the case to Commissioner Bak.’
‘Done.’
‘Darrel, how fast can you get here?’
Darrel blinked. ‘Er, how fast do you need?’
‘Can you be here in five minutes?’
Darrel glanced back at something or someone in the pool, looking uncomfortable.
‘I can,’ he croaked.
‘Good. Please do.’ She swapped channels again. ‘Carol, please assemble some of the building’s guardbots. Swap out their SAPs for Fleet enforcement standard and bring them up here.’
‘On it,’ said her roboteer uncertainly. She clearly did not understand what had just happened, but Ann’s crew was nothing if not loyal.
She walked back to where her heavies stood grinning at the president.
