"And the poll logic?"
"We can ask any Sentinel to send a summary of events since its last report at any time. We can also ask it for the details of a particular event."
Evans still seemed unsatisfied. "How much of this is flexible?"
"Most all of it, sir. We're using the Fleet standard hierarchical transaction processing engine so we can define conditions for events and actions to take on those events as necessary. That also means we can update criteria remotely."
Evans looked at Peña and nodded.
"OK good enough. Let's get it done and get these things moving." Discussion over, Elias Peña was up and out of the meeting. Ron Harris looked around at the team.
"Good work, all of you." And then he was up and gone as well.
ISC Fleet Officer's Quarters
Ft Eustis, VA
Friday, April 15, 2078, 1730 EDT
Meredith Harris stood at the stove, fretting over the lasagna. She could buy a decent prepared version in the store, or online, and in a pinch, have it delivered by drone or autonomous surface vehicle in less than an hour. Lots of people she knew did that. But she never thought food like that tasted like anyone actually made it, and for Meredith, the work and care of preparing were as much of the loving of family and friends as the sharing of the meal itself. She remembered her mother's glowing stories of family gatherings at her great-grandparent's big house in the woods, and she wanted that warmth, that welcome, to radiate from her home, too. Even if that home was a cookie-cutter house on a former army base. While the house itself didn't matter very much to her; the feeling of being home with those she loved surely did.
Fiona had been there the night Meredith and Ron met while he was at the University, and she had watched, almost shared, as they fell so quickly and deeply in love. Ron made no secret that he wanted a full career and Meredith unreservedly signed on as the wife of a Fleet officer. There were many weeks spent alone, time she used to finish her Master's or to work on whatever house they were living in. Fleet being what it was, and until recently no war to fight, even when assigned to a ship Ron was usually gone for only a few weeks, then back for about the same time, then out again. When they were assigned to FPI in Idaho or HQ in Virginia, or he was teaching at SFU in Ohio, she saw him nearly every day. For a military wife, she knew, this was pretty soft duty, and she was grateful for it.
Unlike many of his peers, Ron had no interest in 'man-toys' or other amusements, and so his paycheck went to the home and the family, less a few percent for his day-to-day expenses. She, likewise, had no need of expensive clothes or possessions or whatever the current fashion trend might be. They lived well but absent of extravagance. Meredith knew there would be a long life after the Fleet, and she was putting savings away every month, except when the kids or the house needed something right away. She and Ron talked money about once a year when he got his raise or a promotion. She would let him know what was where and what it had done that year. The rest of the time, he just didn't think about it much because Meredith had it covered.
She was tall, nearly six feet, just a couple inches shorter than Ron, and broad-shouldered for a woman. She had light brown hair, not quite blond, and unusual green eyes with flecks of brown that always seemed to have a glint of joy in them. She wasn't classically beautiful, but her smile could flood a room with light. She was expressive, open, and when Meredith cared about you there wasn't much question in your mind about it, and when she hugged you, you surely knew you'd been hugged. The way she was, to be inside Meredith Harris' circle was a life-enriching experience.
She finally decided the beef and Italian sausage and marinara mix was acceptable and went on to layer the filling with seasoning, pasta, and cheeses. She gave it a final embellishment of herbs, and into the oven it went. She was pouring herself a tall glass of a favorite local red when Fiona arrived. If you were expected at the Harris' you didn't dare ring the bell or knock; you just came on in and navigated yourself to the kitchen.
"Hi, Meredith!" Fiona called.
"FIONA!" Meredith yelled like she had just seen a long-lost sister. Meredith held the smaller, slightly-built Fiona for a few seconds, then released her with a kiss on the cheek.
"Jesus, Meredith, you're gonna crush me one of these days."
Meredith laughed. "Hmmm...no...break a rib maybe...wine?"
She poured generously, and they walked out of the kitchen onto the small deck at the back of the house, into the warm but fading sunshine.
"No kids?"
"No, Mom took them for the weekend."
"How is G'amma these days?"
"She's doing well. Since Dad died, she's been able to see the kids more, and I think that helps her."
"No doubt. It was sad to see him gone so soon."
"Too soon. I miss him so much. But she loves chasing those three little kids around."
"And indulging them..."
Meredith laughed again, almost spilling her wine. "Oh my God, let me tell you..." she went on to describe her mother's latest extravagance for her grandchildren. She had eight, but she never seemed to have trouble finding time for any one of them. They were the joy of her life, and she was a bright light in theirs.
Ron came out of the house somewhere in the middle of the second glass of wine, carrying a beer. Meredith held him perhaps even closer than she had Fiona, and he sat between the women.
Meredith looked at each of them in turn.
"You're both experts at covering your feelings, so, anything new today?" Fiona looked at Ron who shrugged.
"Nope. Still nothing on the SLIP scanner. The Sentinels will be getting out there in a few months, but we haven't seen anything yet."
At the outbreak of the war, senior officers at or above the rank of Commander could request security clearances for their spouses. The theory was that they could talk more freely, including with colleagues, if they didn't have to exclude those nearest them from the conversation. This was one more issue where ISC Fleet differed from most military services, which would see this as a severe security risk. But, since the ISC Fleet's opposition was alien and unlikely to be present on the planet, there was minimal risk to operations. Some officers questioned this wisdom of this policy, but Ron didn't, for him, the benefits far surpassed any reasonable downside.
"But you still believe in these ideas, right?" she asked.
Ron looked out at the sunset a moment before he responded.
"I do...but I do sometimes wonder if it's only because we couldn't think of anything else."
"We all bought off on it," Fiona pointed out, "even Forstmann - so if it's wrong, there are a lot of people who were wrong with you."
"Yeah, I know...for once failure can't be an orphan 'cause this one has a major paper trail. But it might be a bad case of groupthink."
"Which, of course, could get us all killed." Fiona finished, coolly.
Now Meredith looked from one to the other.
"I have known you both so long. I can't imagine two people I love and admire more. I mean it, but I still don't understand how you do it."
"Do what?" Ron asked.
"You talk about how millions, billions maybe, could be killed - sometimes you say it could happen tomorrow - so calmly, like this was a normal thing to talk about."
"For us, it is," Fiona answered evenly. "This is our job, Meredith. We work these problems because we can and because the world has, in effect, asked us to. We have to stay calm."
Ron nodded his agreement.
"And, to be fair, we've lost Liberty but no other casualties for us yet. We've met them twice now and kicked their proverbial ass both times. The Inori have suffered terribly, but most of us have never been there. Never even spoken to one. They're a remote, intellectual construct for most of us, just slightly unreal. That distance helps. If I had seen a shipmate of mine killed there, like Terri Michael and Carol Hansen and the rest did, I would probably feel more emotion about it."
Meredith was unconvinced. "Still...such a fearful ris
k...so many people..."
Fiona took another sip, then responded. "I am not as sure there is such a risk. Inoria is about the size of a large-ish city, something like Richmond or Cleveland or Des Moines. They sent six ships and still failed to completely destroy it, maybe because of Liberty, maybe not. But there are hundreds if not thousands of such cities all over the Earth. It would be a frightful effort for them to be able to make a significant attack on us."
Ron was less sure.
"Unless they switch to nukes," he responded skeptically.
Fiona looked at him. "Hay, pal, try to remember it's your wife I'm trying to reassure here."
"Oh, in that case, please do go on..."
They laughed at themselves a little. It was hard to process sometimes, the idea that they were in a real space war with friendly, if non-combatant, aliens and an unseen, unknown alien enemy. Fiona was no Polly-Anna, and for Ron, the sky wasn't falling, but at this moment she was more hopeful about the eventual outcome than he was. For Ron, the lack of information on the enemy was an enormous and seriously dark cloud from which all manner of evil might fall in the next few seconds. Fiona saw the same cloud, but she also saw the swarm of ships around it, trying to hem it in, understand its size and true danger. They understood each other well, and together they made an effective and efficient team that CINC could count on.
With the growth of the Intel department, the rumor was that a star was in Ron's near future. Fiona had no comparable increase in her Plans group, so to her, it seemed unlikely that she would see one anytime soon. But, really, she didn't care. The work was good, her staff was good, and to see her friend promoted said only good about him, not less about her.
Antares
Enroute Epsilon Eridani
Saturday, April 16, 2078, 0240 UTC
Carol awoke with a start, sitting straight up in her bunk. "Shit!" she said, a little too loud.
Her roommate, Medical Officer Doctor Marcia Soto, woke up, looked over at her, and turned back over.
"Not here, Hansen. It draws flies and lifers."
Carol didn't hear Marcia's version of the old soldier joke.
"I may have blown it Marsh. How the hell could I be so stupid?"
"Hansen, I'm trying to be asleep right now, you know, like I was, like, a minute ago! What are we talking about?"
Carol had awoken from a nightmare about David and Rick Court. She couldn't quite piece it all together now that she was awake, but she still felt fear in her gut.
"Me, Marsh, we're talking about me being a complete idiot."
Soto rolled over to face her roommate.
"You? An idiot?" she said incredulously. "Carol, what the hell are you talking about?"
Carol was awake now, but still within the shadow of the nightmare and not yet fully adjusted back to reality. She flopped back down on her pillow, trying to catch her breath. She felt cold, and realized suddenly that she was drenched in sweat.
"Never mind, Marsh. Go back to sleep," she said quietly.
"Oh, sure, no problem. You wake me up calling yourself names and expect me to just roll back over and float off?"
"Sorry, Marsh. Just a bad dream I guess."
Dreams, she knew, were just dreams, not revelations. They were something the brain did every night. The intracranial drama we perceive is just one part of the brain trying to interpret what's happening elsewhere. She knew all of that, but as she looked around in the darkness a few images flashed back to her mind. She could see hope in David's face, and anger in Rick's. They stayed with her as she walked to the bathroom for some relief and a change of nightwear. When she flipped on the light, the images were suddenly gone, and reality snapped back into focus. Even so, the emotions flowing from both men, and herself, were hard to ignore. She looked at herself in the mirror.
"That thing you thought was trying to get out?" she said to her reflection. "Remember that? Well, honey, it's out now."
The message from her subconscious seemed clear: break free of her regrets about Court and take the risk to reach out to Powell. Her NETLink said 0245, but there would be no more sleep tonight. She dressed, grabbed her earphones and tablet with her books and music, and headed for the wardroom lounge. She could curl herself into a couch there and no one would think anything of it. She needed time to think, but, at least, now she knew what it was she had to think about.
ISC Fleet HQ Plans Section
Ft. Eustis, VA
Monday, April 18, 2078 0730 EDT
Fiona had just arrived in her office when the phone rang. CINC's assistant, Noah Peters, was asking her to come to CINC's office. She dropped her jacket on the chair, picked up her tablet and headed upstairs. She ran into Ron Harris on the way. They looked at each other with curiosity.
"Going to see CINC?" Ron asked.
"Uh, yeah. Noah call you?"
"Yup. Something's up."
They hustled into the CINC's offices. Noah Peters was standing outside the door, waiting for them. As they entered, CINC was at his desk, his assistant Captain Patricia Cook seated across from him. Deputy CINC Yakovlev was there, as was FleetShips Admiral Miles Sloane, FleetWeaps Captain Garrett Velasquez, and FleetSupply Captain Kathleen Barton. Fiona looked around as she entered and it was clear that everyone was as puzzled as she was why they were here. She heard the door close behind her.
"That's everyone, sir," Noah Peters said before taking a seat near the door.
"Very well," he began. "Admiral Gerhard has been relieved," said flatly.
Fiona could not help raising an eyebrow at the name. Gerhard had a reputation for borderline behavior with both peers and subordinates, but she hadn't heard of anything recently.
"I won't go into the details but let's just say some aspects of his character have become a distraction."
Well, Fiona thought, that's telling me without telling me.
"There are issues in the Operations Section that I need addressed. I'm promoting Captain Cook and assigning her to run it."
Patty Cook sat very still in her seat on the left of the rest of the gathered officers. Fiona snuck a glance at her, wondering if she had just heard this herself.
"I made this decision last night. I informed Gerhard last night and Admiral Cook just this morning."
She had not seen CINC seething with anger like this before. The staff waited for him to finish.
"I brought you all here so you could hear the news directly from me, and to ask your support as Patty does what may be a very difficult job over there." He leaned back in his chair. "Are there any questions?"
Sloane, the most senior of the collected staff officers, spoke first.
"Sir, we will all give her whatever assistance we can."
"Good choice, sir," Fiona heard herself saying.
She could see Patty Cook relax just a bit in her chair.
"Thank you. That's all for now," CINC said, dismissing them.
They stood, congratulating and commiserating with the new Admiral, wishing her well and offering any help she might need. Ron and Fiona headed back to their Divisions together.
"Oh man, who did Gerhard fondle this time?" Ron asked.
Fiona smiled. "Long past time CINC dispatched that creep. Joanne will be pleased."
Ron was surprised. "She had a problem with him?"
Fiona leaned in, speaking into his ear. "He put his hands where they didn't belong and she gave him a knee where it counted. He left her alone after that."
Ron smiled. "I can see that. Well, he got a knee to the career today. It's over."
"Yup."
As they arrived at the stairs, Fiona headed down to the Plans area, pulling Joanne into her office. She wanted to tell her personally before it became news.
Sigma
Enroute Rana
Monday, April 18. 2078
It was thirty-five light years from GJ 3622, a red dwarf, to Delta Eridani, GJ 150, also known as Rana, a red giant. It was over a month in FTL, a dull, boring transit that would take the last week of Marc
h and virtually the entire month of April. David took the first couple days off to catch up on sleep and then was back in the Intel workroom.
David completed his review of the GJ 3622 data by mid-April. They were all satisfied that there was no significant enemy presence there, at least, nothing on the scale of what Liberty had encountered at Inor. He had mixed feelings about that conclusion. Sure, it would mean less work for him and his team. But it also meant he'd have more time to think about other things that he'd been avoiding. His Father. His Mother. Carol. That jerk Rick Court. That local jerk Lieutenant Todd Boyd. Lisa Briggs seemed to make a project of him, pulling him into card games or movies with other young officers, people who knew David from SFU, or, at least, knew of him. Those times were a welcome relief for everyone from the boredom of the transit.
With the GJ 3622 data put to bed, the Intel crew started studying Rana. It is a red sub-giant, a bit more than twice the diameter of Sol and mass about thirty percent higher. Years of remote examination had found no evidence of planets, but given that it was a giant, it was entirely possible that Rana had planets far enough out to remain clear of the star but be too small for remote detection. He was no astrophysicist, but he had his briefings and instructions, and he knew that as a by-product of this search the Fleet was producing several lifetimes worth of observational data for real astrophysicists and astronomers back home.
Antares
Epsilon Eridani
Friday, April 29, 2078, 1030 UTC
Carol stood behind the Surveillance console, watching Ryan Lewis and Jayvon Dean search for a target. Commander Michael had specified an iron asteroid, at least a hundred meters in diameter (or length, they tend to be irregular at this scale) but not more than three hundred, as the subject of their first live-fire exercise. She didn't give them any reasons for her criteria, because, well, they were arbitrary and she had just kinda made them up on the spot. She really wanted to test the team's ability to find whatever she might ask them to find. Epsilon Eridani has two asteroid belts, and typically the irons are more prevalent closer to the star, so they chose to focus on the inner belt at around 3 AU. There was a Jupiter-class planet just outside the belt, so they confined their search to an area on the opposite side of the star. All of this was more or less part of the exercise: find what I asked you to find in the area I said to look. The odds were small that there would not be a target that met the criteria, but neither would it be quick or simple to locate. It would take some searching, and that was also part of the point.
Silver Enigma Page 17
