“They’ll try them before this evening and shoot them at midnight,” the inspector fumed.
“No, ma’am,” Steve told her. “They will get a full trial with every safeguard. The Federation will use it to tell people about the Union. The trial will be heavily scrutinized by the media.”
“Sure it will. You’ll finish up in time to shoot them tomorrow night.”
“A few hundred years ago, your government and mine were repeatedly party to death sentences to defendants whose defense was ‘I was merely following my orders.’ That wasn’t an adequate defense in the past and it’s not now.”
“Two twenty-one year olds shot -- what’s fair about that?”
“Jaime broke down under questioning. She and her brother are clones, and highly trained professional assassins. That sort of thing is forbidden even in the Union from top to bottom.”
“Broke down under torture, more like!” the inspector said.
“Torture is in the eye of the beholder. Jaime has a collection of vintage Twentieth Century ‘paperback books.’ Once she figured out that we had less compunction about pulping all of them than she had about killing Yolanda or her mother, she spoke volumes. Her clone brother is fond of Japanese hentai magazines from the late Twentieth to early Twenty-first Centuries. He also loves his collection.
“They killed Juanita Ruiz with a topical poison, that the bute-like chemical dispersed through her system. Bute has a distinctive odor; the version Carruthers used was odorless. The poison was targeted on the nervous system, blocking neurotransmitters for a few minutes. The drug was quickly metabolized in the minute or so before the heart stopped. The rohypnol caused confusion and the victim would have been helpless within seconds.
“The body was ejected from a smuggler’s boat, with a concealed compartment that could be flooded and then opened.
“James Carruthers is on trial for his life, and sufficient forensic evidence has been found to confirm the details. If convicted, he will lose his life. His sister, however, if convicted, will be turned over to the Union. As I’ve said they have no death penalty.”
“What is the Union’s stiffest penalty?”
“Life without parole or its possibility,” Steve replied.
Detective Inspector Brown sighed. “I guess it’s enough that they both won’t be killed.”
Steve smiled thinly. “Inspector, a life sentence in a Union prison differs in only one detail from one in our prisons. Jaime Carruthers has a life expectancy of three to four hundred years.”
Chapter 12 -- The Academy
Steve Yardley grinned at the woman he wanted to marry. “We have a landing slot, Yolie.”
She smiled back at him. “Have you ever flown before in so much traffic?”
“Actually, I flew to Grissom during an ‘All Ships Sortie.’ The chief with me told me all I had to do differently was monitor the collision avoidance electronics as if my life depended on it.”
“Well, at least that time it wasn’t my fault.”
Their shuttle landed and a Port petty officer was there to secure it.
“Well, no Marines at least,” Yolanda Ruiz observed.
They hopped an electric runabout and rode to the Fleet Academy administration building. He went to one of the kiosks and told the older man sitting at it, “Lieutenant Steve Yardley and Miss Yolanda Ruiz reporting.”
The man typed into a computer. “I’ve logged your arrival. An escort will be here for you shortly.”
“I was thinking, Steve, it’s always been an admiral that I’ve met first,” Yolanda whispered.
There was a stir in the room as whispers and gasps were heard. Steve looked and swallowed. “Your string continues, Yolie!”
A man of late middle age stopped in front of them. Everyone knew the face of Admiral Ernest Fletcher, five stars and the commander of the Fleet. The admiral smiled at them. “Miss Ruiz?” he asked and Yolanda nodded.
“My very great honor, Miss.” He then proceeded to kiss Yolanda on both cheeks.
He held out his hand for Steve to shake.
“Sorry, I forgot to salute, sir,” Steve apologized.
“Well, you’ve come to the right place to learn,” he said dryly.
He waved them in the direction he wanted them to go. When they were out of the public area he spoke again. “This is one tactic to keep people from bothering you. I’ve sent too many captains to Pluto to be school crossing guards.”
“Admiral, I realize I have no authority to ask, but please, I’d like a few minutes with you if I may. It would save a lot of time if Admiral Merriweather and Admiral Cloud could be there as well. In a secure room.”
“Well, that’s where we’re headed now. But bringing Admiral Merriweather here may take a while. Admiral Cloud won’t take as long, but still it would take some time. Wait until we are in the conference room and we can talk.”
“It would have to be up to you if you want to bring anyone else but those two in on this.”
“Wait until we’re done here, then.” They were ushered into a room with four people waiting for them. There was a vice admiral that Steve recognized as Admiral Zinder, a rear admiral and two captains, one of them a woman that Steve also recognized -- Captain Shapiro, who was Master Chief Pirate’s boss.
“Gentleman, two new cadets. Lieutenant Yardley and Cadet Candidate Ruiz. Vice Admiral Roger Zinder, Rear Admiral Ernesto Sanchez, the outgoing Commandant of the Academy, Rear Admiral-designate Tommy Mikkeljon, the incoming Commandant and Captain Lynn Shapiro. Please, everyone be seated.”
All of the Fleet officers sat on one side of the table, Steve and Yolanda on the other.
“Admiral Zinder is aware of part of what I’m going to say, the rest of you on our side of the table are not. Captain Shapiro you have no idea why I wanted to see you today, and I imagine you’re going to scream the loudest.
“Yardley and Ruiz are both new to the Fleet. Captain Shapiro was there when Admiral Merriweather made then-Ensign Yardley a junior lieutenant about two and a half hours after Yardley had volunteered for Fighter Transition. It’s safe to say that everyone has been pleased with the lieutenant’s performance of his duty to date.
“Still, we’d all be more comfortable if he knew a little more about the Fleet.
“Miss Ruiz is a former Union deep-cover operative. It is a very highly classified fact that she departed Earth clandestinely. Her mother had been murdered by the former Union government and she escaped the same fate by a thin margin. We directed her to the team under Admiral Merriweather that was negotiating with the new Union government. Lieutenant Yardley was part of our team.
“I have talked with Ernesto and Tommy about a course of instruction for unspecified individuals. Two years, very intensive.”
Admiral Sanchez motioned if he could speak. Admiral Fletcher nodded. “Obviously they are very bright young people, Admiral, but by their public records they aren’t really ready to start that program.” Admiral Sanchez tapped some papers in front of him.
“Admiral, if I may,” Captain Mikkeljon spoke up.
“Certainly.”
“Ernesto, I was tasked to do a top-down revision of the certification system. I was assisted in this by discussions with Captain Rhodes, who I submit, was not a hundredth as prepared as these two. Further, I had the assistance of Captain Colinda Drake while she was recovering from her injuries.
“Experimenting on these two will allow us to if the new system works.”
Admiral Fletcher guffawed. “We’ll be experimenting on you as well, Tommy. Each of them will provide unique challenges. Top secret challenges.
“Lieutenant Yardley is a telepath. Testing him will an interesting experiment. According to the telepaths, the Fleet’s scrambling developed in the wake of the AI problems works. Of course, Union telepaths told their own government that the methodology the Union had developed for scrambling worked. They lied to their political masters. Granted, those politicians were planning on eliminating all off their agents in t
he Federation, and then all the telepaths.
“Candidate Ruiz is from the Union; she does not appear to be her actual age -- she just celebrated her fifteenth birthday. She has an eidetic memory... she can recall about ninety-five percent of everything she sees and hears. Forever.
“Further, while there are no living Koopianers who originally fled the Federation three hundred years ago, about half of the second generation and even higher percentages of the subsequent generations are still alive. The best estimate of Candidate Ruiz’s lifespan is three to four hundred years.
“The Federation doesn’t know that just yet. Nor do they do know that most diseases and conditions are unknown in the Union. Most forms of cancer, most of the degenerative diseases of old age -- and they can not only re-grow nerve injuries, they can re-grow limbs and organs.
“The Federation Council is contemplating how fast this information can be released.”
“Goodness! That is a can of worms!” Admiral Sanchez exclaimed. “From top to bottom.”
Admiral Fletcher shrugged. “Consider that we could replace the people we’ve lost to date in the war in forty years.”
Captain Shapiro growled something under her breath. “Captain?” Admiral Fletcher inquired.
“’How are you goin’ to keep ‘em down on the farm, once they’ve seen gay Paree?’ At that rate of growth the human race would have just a little bit of trouble expanding fast enough. Trying to limit that or deny it to subsequent generations would cause a great deal of social turmoil.”
“Admiral, I remember calculating the approximate size of the Union population by standard models. My answer was a range of two to ten million. They never told us what it actually was,” Steve said.
“There you have it. Ernesto, you are going out to command Grissom Station. If you would, please review the plans for the new certification boards with Tommy. One last point. I don’t want to hear of any of three Academy senior officers flying fighters, ever again. Ernesto and Tommy, you are permitted to fly shuttles with a master pilot in one of the seats. I’m sorry as hell, Lynn, but you are limited to five thousand meters AGL.”
“The nodule on my thyroid was benign, sir!”
“And you’re not to get more than background radiation again -- not on my watch!
“Captain Shapiro, you are requested to report to Captain Mikkeljon for duty as a tactical officer. Yardley and Ruiz are the first of many crosses you’ll bear.”
Captain Shapiro grinned. “I’ve been out enough for one lifetime. Can I keep Pirate?”
“Of course.”
“Her daughter is safe and she’s tied to me and will only have to lose people if she volunteers for it. Hell will freeze first!”
“Good! Get with Tommy; you two are to review the new syllabus. Obviously, Fleet basic certificates will change the least. Get them out of the way first. Trudy and Thor Swenson will teach their courses at the same time.”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
“Now, leave me alone with Lieutenant Yardley.”
The others left and Admiral Fletcher raised an eyebrow. “What do you have for me?”
“Sir,” Steve said, “a number of things. The most urgent of them is Captain Nishnamurti.”
“She’s being held incommunicado until the exploits identified by Miss Ruiz are removed from all Fleet ships.”
“Yes, sir. She’s being held in a special cell about a half kilometer off our path to headquarters. Sir, she was contemplating if it was possible to get in touch with those over him -- not Fleet officers, but members of the government of Campbell’s World who are determined to remove the Federation from influence in their government,” Steve told the admiral. “Yolanda started to tell her about one method and mentioned that there were others when Admiral Merriweather relieved her.”
Admiral Fletcher sighed. “Thank you, Lieutenant, I can handle this.”
Steve swallowed. “You’re thinking you’ll tell just Admiral Cloud and have her send some people out right away.”
Admiral Fletcher looked at Steve piercingly. “It was one thing to tell me about an officer who deserves nothing, but...” he rapped the bracelet he was wearing on the table. “This doesn’t work? Our scramblers don’t work?”
“They don’t, sir. They have never worked.”
“Why are you telling me this? Nishnamurti?”
“Admiral, you should make an appointment with Dr. Kemp as soon as she is back.”
“Professor Black Widow?”
“Yes, sir. She knows how to calculate your injection.”
The admiral’s eyes flashed. “My injection, Lieutenant?”
“Our injection, sir. I could see it when we met in Admiral Cloud’s office. You were thinking I’d be back soon enough and you could get on with the Academy stuff. ‘Folderol,’ you thought.”
“And you think that excuses you in this?”
“Sir, I can read minds. Like I see in yours, you can handle this just fine. But there are all those other people. You will find out just like I did. For the average person, a telepath is like putting your hand down unexpectedly on a slimy, squishy slug.
“Makaa was trying to kill two birds at a time with the words ‘plausible deniability.’”
Admiral Fletcher sat still, thinking. “The AIs said two things that I don’t think we paid enough attention to. The average Fleet Aloft sailor would have misgivings, but would accept telepaths. Porties would never be handle it. Then they said that humanity was splitting in two. Rim Runners and dirty-feet. I’m a dirty-foot by birth and I blew that analysis off as wrong on its face -- but that analysis is valid.
“I’ve had my nose rubbed in the fact that some are dirty-feet by ignorance and others by stupidity too many times. You’re telling me I’m a telepath?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And when I look into other people’s minds I’ll see that some can accept that, but most cannot?”
“Yes, sir. In London, when we arrested Jaime Carruthers, her words on being discovered were to Yolanda. She called Yolanda a ‘damned Bing.’ Sir, she was born and raised in the Union. If anyone could accept differences it should have been people from the Union. You had to hear the malevolent hate in her voice.
“Coming from someone she thought was a friend, she really hurt Yolanda, sir.”
Admiral Fletcher looked at Steve. “How do you stop hearing things?”
“Sometimes, sir, like with Captain Nishnamurti, you can’t. But mostly, it’s like being in a busy restaurant. You tune the background out. Makaa said it’s like if you have male cats. The smell is very objectionable -- but after a time, you stop noticing it.”
“My wife makes us keep two houses -- one we live in and one we have company to. Cats,” the admiral said.
He drew himself up. “Tomorrow 0800, you two. Have Captain Shapiro bring you. Go to her now and settle in.” He paused and Steve smiled.
“We understand that married cadets have never been permitted. Both of us want this, for different reasons, but we want this. We won’t make any trouble.”
Admiral Fletcher guffawed. “I shouldn’t laugh. My predecessor, Admiral Nagoya, recruited any number of young officers who did better than any of us dinosaurs could believe.” He sniffed derisively. “Much better than the pukes in BuPers believed.
“The last of those, Cindy Rhodes, is a Fleet captain now, halfway to Adobe. I won’t talk about her; suffice it to say she has the finest mind in the Federation, bar none. She, like Willow Wolf, cut an awesome swath through BuPers. It got so bad that some of us were contemptuous of them. When she was a lieutenant commander, we got together and recommended her promotion to vice admiral. We could probably have gotten away with it, and I’m as sure as I can be that she could do the job.
“Please, cause trouble! Try to keep that trouble confined to mundane things like qualifications, but you don’t have to. I’m a telepath?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Kewl! Thebes orbits in later today. See Shapiro; do what she tells you,
at least at first. For heaven’s sake, do what the Swensons’ tell you to do.”
He turned and vanished, leaving Steve to find Yolanda waiting just outside. They went through the building until they found Captain Shapiro waiting for them.
“Come along and we’ll check you in and get you assigned quarters. I’m not totally ignorant; I can read the glances you exchange just fine. Girl, put a cork in it and Lieutenant, tie it in a knot. You will not be assigned quarters together, not right off. If you think your training is going to leave you with any spare energy -- let me know. I’ll find more for you to do.”
Much later, Steve found himself in a room with a roommate. His roommate was an ensign. A cadet, enormously different from Emily Rosen.
“You sure you are in the right room, Lieutenant?”
“A Fleet captain assigned me to this compartment, mister.”
The other man snapped his mouth shut. “Yes, sir!”
A short while later the other vanished to his afternoon classes.
After dinner, he returned to the room and the other man, who had not gifted Steve with his name, came back also. “You don’t have any duty?” the other said.
“No,” Steve replied.
“I would recommend sleep, sir. You won’t get much of it for the foreseeable future.”
The door to their room opened and a man strode in. Steve’s roommate stiffened. “Ten hut!”
“He isn’t in uniform,” Steve said mildly, getting to his feet. Not that he didn’t know who he was. The newcomer was physically large, but, nearing seventy, his once blonde hair was a mixture of yellow and white.
The other thought, “Wave if you can hear me.”
Steve smiled and did nothing.
The man held out his hand to Steve, “Ernie said you’re a starchy bastard. Understated, but starchy. Thor Swenson, son.”
“That’s a four-star admiral, sir,” his roommate said.
“But not in uniform,” Thor said. He was wearing a white line officer shipsuit, but it was unadorned. “Understated, starchy and a proper young officer.
The Odyssey and the Iliad (Kinsella Universe Book 7) Page 24
