The Odyssey and the Iliad (Kinsella Universe Book 7)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  “Miss Ruiz, you should see the missiles have dropped from High Fan.”

  “Yes, sir, I see that.”

  “I’m sending you the coordinates of the task force talking to the Union. Give my regards to Admiral Merriweather and Commander Booth.”

  Yolanda looked at her companion. “If this is a trick, prepare to die.” She shut down High Fan.

  Yolanda looked at him. “Was that a sigh of relief?”

  “I don’t do well on High Fan.”

  “And I don’t feel it -- but yes, it’s a good day to stay alive.”

  “I wasn’t sighing in relief that I was still alive.”

  “And I was,” Yolanda retorted.

  “Miss, I really am telling the truth. You just became one of the most valuable people in the Federation. Admiral Fletcher will not in any way show that, except in private, but you are. He will put you with some of the people who were there, observing, at the time, and then we will learn a very great deal. With that, we have computer programs that will make short work of relationships that are clear in any conceivable language. In a year, we may be well on our way to understanding their language.”

  “I was told that a Federation officer is as good as his word. Do I have your parole, sir? That you will not try to escape and cooperate as needs be?”

  “Miss, I watched you take over my AI. It was one of the most ruthless acts I’ve ever had to watch. You raped my computer, and had her liking it. I fought you; the computer fought you -- but we were of no account. Less than two minutes...”

  Yolanda grinned. “At the end. The setup was longer.”

  “Trust me on this. They will want to know how you did that as well. If you can do it, anyone could.”

  Yolanda smiled.

  *** ** ***

  Admiral Donna Merriweather was plowing through a pile of reports when her phone rang. “Merriweather here.”

  “Admiral, comms. Two Marines are en route to your office. You have a Flash Operational Immediate message in your private code. It is rather lengthy.”

  “Roger that,” she replied. She got up from her desk and went to the door and opened it. Her yeoman and her aide looked up. “Guess who is coming to dinner?” she quipped. She gestured to the outer hatch. “Unbutton us.”

  The yeoman leaped to his feet and opened the hatch, moments before two bristle-haired young Marines appeared. One of them had his weapon out and the other was carrying a folder with a red blazon across it “CLASSIFIED.”

  Her aide was standing, watching.

  “Your signature on the receipt, Admiral,” the man with the folder said. He held out the folder, and Donna could see that there was a receipt form on top, held down by a clip.

  She deftly signed it and took the folder. “Please, you all remain available until further notice,” she told her office staff after the Marines were gone. She went back inside, closing the hatch behind her. She grimaced when she saw that there were ten pages. Private codes were just that, so she had to input everything herself into the decoder. She had a code machine that wasn’t linked to any shipboard system. Fortunately, the comm center had included the original message in a scannable form. She’d only received a private code message once before, and that had been a drill.

  She fed the papers to the scanner and started to read the output.

  At the end, she permitted herself five minutes of woolgathering, and then spent a solid hour thinking the matter through. It was significant, she thought, that Admiral Fletcher had essentially given her a blank check.

  She contemplated if a people could have the beauty of firefly trees in their souls and the ugliness of genocide. She thought not, but the fate of Juanita Ruiz spoke volumes that human motivations could be enormously complex.

  Still...

  “Ashley, if you would, bring your notebook in.”

  Her aide was bright and cheerful, as she had been on her first day. “Action points for you, Lieutenant, in order of priority. Message the Union ship; Senior Pilot Officer Makaa is to repair aboard the flagship at her earliest convenience.”

  To the young woman’s tribute, she made the note with no comment.

  “Tell the pinnace pilot that we are to dock with Thebes ASAP. Tell Captain Hargrove I need to see him yesterday, but he will do well enough after we dock.”

  “Tell Ensign Rosen she is to report to me as soon as the possible.

  “Tell Commander Booth to brush up on her special project, then prepare to brief me an hour after the pinnace docks.

  “When you complete these tasks, you are getting your heart’s desire. After we dock, report to Commander Grenoble, the Weapon’s Officer, for duty as a Weapons Control Officer. Ensign Rosen will be your replacement, please help her with any questions.”

  “I thought I had another month, sir.”

  “I need Rosen. She isn’t nearly as eager to kill critters. This isn’t a knock against either of you, because I owe a whole lot of critters for so many of my friends. There is a reason for Rosen, one that I can’t go into. Now, get cracking!”

  Later, shortly after the pinnace docked, Donna picked up her phone and told Commander Grenoble that he was getting a new weapons officer. The flag captain came in and she waved at the door; he closed it.

  “A ship is going to join the task force in about sixteen hours. It may or may not have a transponder, and it may or may not identify the ship as the survey ship Alabama or the shuttle Mad Hatter. There are two people aboard; have them brought to me forthwith. They are not prisoners, but if anyone should talk to them, I want it reported to me at once.

  “Once the occupants are off those ships, I want those ships secured. Pull the control interfaces, turn off the fans and power them down, leave the reactors on standby. I want Marines in both control rooms, power plants, and propulsion spaces.

  “I do not want those ships able to move under their own power. I, and I alone, will have to be physically present to change this order.

  “In addition, I have ordered Senior Pilot Officer Makaa to repair aboard the flagship. A ship from home was due to dock with the pinnace within the hour -- redirect their approach to the flagship.”

  “They were early, Admiral. They are already aboard Thebes.”

  “Those dirty-feet made their untethered EVA in the Cold Dark?”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  “See that Admiral Zinder is brought here as soon as possible.”

  “Aye, aye, Admiral.”

  “I have not lost my mind, and I do believe I am not exposing our crew to a plague. Not even a quarantine. You are welcome to reassure our crew of that.”

  He laughed. “Admiral, you have the best record of bringing your people back alive of any carrier admiral. This crew is like all of those who have gone before -- they jump at your least whim.”

  Donna laughed bitterly. “This is my first cruise as a carrier admiral.”

  “So, there are none better!” He stood and saluted Donna, who returned it.

  A little later, Commander Booth knocked on her door; the commander had Ensign Rosen in tow.

  Donna looked at her with irritation. “Was my aide not clear as to your duties, Commander?”

  “I thought there was a mistake.”

  “No mistake, Commander. You are relieved from your duties vis a vis the Union and will return to your original project. Review your notes and prepare to brief me in an hour.”

  The commander paled. “I’m relieved?”

  “Your original duties have always been more important. Further work has advanced your original thoughts. Agreed, the Union is important, but our attackers are an existential threat to the entire race. Leave Ensign Rosen and prepare that brief!”

  “Aye, aye Admiral.”

  Donna looked at the young woman who stayed behind. “Take a load off... sit.”

  Ensign Rosen sat gingerly on the front edge of her chair. Admiral Merriweather smiled grimly.

  “A friend of mine was called in to her admiral. Her admiral laughed at her, s
aying that she supposed that some enjoyed subordinates quaking in their boots, but she didn’t. Relax, Ensign, I don’t enjoy it either.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I am, effective at once, detaching you from Commander Booth’s shop and making you my aide.”

  “Sir?”

  “There’s a promotion in it for you.”

  “I don’t have enough time in grade, Admiral.”

  “You have to have a watchkeeping certificate to be promoted junior lieutenant. Do you have such a certificate, Ensign Rosen?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You are, in fact, a Fleet Brat, with a bridge watchkeeping certificate.”

  “Admiral, my parents are both Port, not Fleet, and I have only the sensor watchkeeping certificate.”

  “The Fleet allows early promotions if an officer otherwise meets the requirements. I have the authority to promote you full commander, if I wished. I’d give BuPers gas because of your certificates, but the number of BuPers officers executed or sent to Yellowknife or Pluto has made the rest of them more cautious.”

  The ensign goggled and Donna Merriweather laughed gently. “Small steps, small steps.”

  “Admiral, I have a bad reaction to High Fan,” the ensign reported.

  “And just where are you? Does laying inert in the Cold Dark make you itch?”

  “I try not to think about it,” the ensign admitted.

  “Neither do the rest of us.” Donna Merriweather folded her hands and laced her fingers together.

  “Now, it’s story time. Consider this a highly classified briefing; save your questions until the end.

  “Once upon a time, a long time ago, I was given an implant, before the Big Battle. I thought it was the greatest thing in the world! All sorts of information was at my fingertips. It was even better than any phone, ever.

  “Deployments, battles -- I was stunned at how much a mental link added to combat effectiveness. I was on Rome the day that Cindy Rhodes reported, just for a few hours. I remember telling her squadron commander that the time had come for a non-flight certified ops officer. Have you heard of Rhodes?”

  “Only in passing, sir.”

  “They gave her the Star twice, but she refused one. The first time it was irregular, because objectively she didn’t do much. The second time she saved Earth. This is one of those classified parts of the brief. She swiftly and efficiently warned Earth that the Grissom Station AI had gone rogue and was preparing to fire on Earth. She saved maybe a billion lives that day.”

  “I didn’t know,” Emily Rosen said.

  Admiral Merriweather grinned. “Somehow the fact that Earth had a close call was omitted from the news reports.”

  The admiral shrugged. “A few days before that happened, Lieutenant Rhodes had returned from her deployment -- where she and her crew had to deal with another rogue AI. She convinced the leadership of the Federation, and she and Admiral Fletcher and a few others came out to my ship, the Tiger.

  “To make a short story even shorter, when I learned that the AI could control people through the link, my very first order was to the ship’s doctor to cut that infernal device from my head. Rhodes subsequently found out that the AIs didn’t need a link to control people.

  “What the AI’s would do was whisper in a person’s ear, in his or her own voice, what it wanted. There was no way to tell what were your own wishes; a number of people got seriously jammed up by the AIs trying to protect themselves.

  “Now, two simple statements that will inform everything else that you will hear. The AIs used something akin to telepathy. The Union has telepaths.”

  Emily put her hand to her mouth, “Oh, no!”

  “It gets worse. Much worse. The Union telepaths lied to their political masters. I honestly don’t know exactly what they said would work to prevent mindreading, but the descriptive phrase they use to describe the protection is ‘tinfoil hats’ ... and those who wore them looked like ‘dorks.’ Dork is a pejorative from the early days before Benko-Chang.

  “There are a number of reasons why we aren’t talking directly as much with the Union representatives as we could, relying on radio for what little communication there is. One of those reasons is that they assure us our technology to block the AI links works to block them as well. I’m sure you can figure that out for yourself.”

  “If they lied to their own people, what can we expect?” Ensign Rosen said.

  “Exactly. They had evidence, nothing firm they say, that the agents they left behind so long ago had been ordered terminated. Senior Pilot Officer Makaa and her fellow telepaths mutinied against their captain, who was carrying that order back to Earth. They had a suspicion this was just someone being thorough -- that the order had already been passed. There were a number of suspicious deaths among their political class.

  “The original Koopianers hijacked a starship and fled. We still don’t know where. Now, a second Koopianer hijacking has occurred. You can read the reports later, but the person who hijacked a Federation starship went through a starship’s computers like plop through the proverbial goose. Someone took down that ship’s computers in less than two minutes. Obviously, Fleet wants to know that exploit.

  “Evidently the Union wasn’t aware that the Fleet can track ships on High Fan... although the hijacker could herself. Seeing missiles tracking her at very close range, she elected surrender. The reason she fled? Someone killed her mother.

  “The reason she surrendered? Her mother was found floating face down in the River Thames in central London. Admiral Fletcher explained to the hijacker that the Federation isn’t shy about executing criminals -- but we treat the remains better than leaving them floating in a river.”

  Emily nodded silently.

  “Shortly, Commander Booth will brief me on her special project. You will be there for that, but you would be well advised to be very sure of yourself if you wish to speak.”

  The admiral stared at Emily for a long minute, making the younger woman nervous. “There is a last thing, perhaps the hardest thing you’ve ever done or ever will do in your life.

  “What are your feelings about Lieutenant Yardley?”

  The ensign shrugged. “What can you say about someone you thought had gotten an unfair step up -- and then goes and saves your life? Who won’t undress in the same compartment as me and turns his head when I undress in front of him? He might have been born a Rim Runner, but he’s a dirty-foot at heart.”

  “I was sixteen, the first time I went off-planet,” Donna said. “I stood for my basic and advanced flight certificates on the same day. My father told me I was a Rim Runner, even if I’d only been up to low orbit once in my life. If you were to undress in front of me, most likely I’d politely turn my head, and blush if I had to do it in front of you.

  “But, that’s half of an answer to my question.”

  “I don’t feel the least romantic towards Lieutenant Yardley.”

  “And if I told you I wish you to keep rooming with him, making sure not to get romantic, even though he will no longer be in your chain of command?”

  “He’s not my type, sir.”

  “Senior Pilot Officer Makaa says that Lieutenant Yardley has the genes for telepathy; all he needs is a weekly injection,” Admiral Merriweather said baldly.

  Emily gulped. “I have no idea of what you want me to do, Admiral.”

  “Do nothing; you are not a spy. A rat, perhaps, if you see or hear anything that you even suspect he’s learned from reading your mind. Of course, if he can read your mind, he’ll know that.”

  “Motivation and counter-motivation are a little confused,” Emily told the admiral.

  “I want you to understand the importance of this. Senior Pilot Officer Makaa is what she calls ‘a projective telepath.’ She can make people see things she wants them to see. So far as we know, that’s an easy step to making people hear what you want. Which means the Union might have the ability to make people do what the Union wants regardless of what the person want
s. It might mean Lieutenant Yardley could have that ability.”

  “I’ll do whatever needed, Admiral.”

  “Good. In truth your primary function will be something else. Shortly, Commander Booth will give a briefing, which you and I will attend. This is a task imposed on me by the highest levels of the Fleet and Federation. You may not speak of it in any other venue unless I or Admiral Fletcher or the President of the Federation give you leave to speak of it. Only if the person so ordering you is physically present.

  “Lieutenant Yardley will not be present at the briefing, as I said. Neither you, Commander Booth, nor any of the rest of you are authorized to discuss this amongst yourselves except if one of the three key individuals is present. Anyone attempting to discuss this, even tangentially, is to be reported at once.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” Emily told the admiral.

  Chapter 11 -- End Game

  Two days later Yolanda was talked into a docking in the Cold Dark. She wasn’t surprised to see that Marines were waiting for her, but was more surprised when they weren’t for her, but for her ship and the Alabama.

  The people waiting for her were an odd lot. A young woman of about twenty-five, wearing an admiral’s uniform, another young woman wearing the uniform of a Fleet commander and a third wearing a lieutenant’s insignia. All three were roughly the same age.

  There was a fourth woman, wearing a very different shipsuit, maybe ten years older than the trio of Fleet officers. There was a young man present, one also wearing stripes of a lieutenant, but he looked as old as Yolanda.

  When two Marines headed for the Mad Hatter’s docking tube, Yolanda couldn’t help snickering. The admiral glanced at her when Yolanda snorted.

  “Is there an issue, Miss Ruiz?” the admiral asked.

  “You’d better whistle up more Marines. Don’t you people believe in photometry?”

  The woman in the shipsuit that Yolanda didn’t recognize smiled. “The Union doesn’t feel it is our place to give the Federation advice on how to conduct the war.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” the admiral said. “Two should suffice for a shuttle.”