Witch Of The Federation (Federal Histories Book 2)

by Michael Anderle

  She scoffed and paced rapidly. “Reports we don’t have, by the way. Because we can’t get an interview request with this bitch.”

  “Witch,” Wyld pointed out.

  Childers shook her head and sneered. “Not Morgana. Elizabeth Smith. Which is a fake name or my name isn’t—”

  He put his hand up. “Don’t say it.”

  She sighed in frustration and her gaze darted around. “Yeah, good point.” She scrutinized the area suspiciously but there was no one in sight. “Countries have fallen for smaller stakes than this.”

  He smirked. “Keep fighting the good fight.”

  Childers groaned. “You do realize we are caught up in Federation-level crazy, right? That doesn’t bother you?”

  Wyld shrugged. “Of course it does, but what am I supposed to do? I’m an employee of the Federation.”

  She leaned against the car. “And this ONE R&D is obviously a front for something. Whoever the owner is, they make themselves as scarce as hell, that’s for sure. Not one goddamn trace. It’s like the system erased it or something.”

  “Uh oh. Now don’t you go all tin hat on me.” He laughed.

  The woman rubbed her face. “No. I’m only looking for a way to get past the maybes and what-ifs in this case.”

  Wyld pursed his lips for a moment before he spoke, not sure he should even put it out there. He took a breath and found his mouth was already talking while his head tried hard to catch up. “We could always try the come-clean approach.”

  Childers raised an eyebrow. “The what?”

  He shook his head. “You didn’t listen to tactics in school at all, did you? The come-clean approach. The one where we admit we can’t get the legal justification, explain exactly what we hope to achieve and how, and ask for their help.”

  She stared at him for a moment. “Okay, you know I’m not the politically astute one here, and I still don’t find that a good option at all. I like straight to the point, not straight to the no.”

  Wyld put his hat back on. “Then we need a plan and we need to work through it fast. This will get away from us quicker than we can piss off a captain, and you know that only takes a split second.”

  Childers put her hat back on as he moved around the car. She opened her door and looked across at him. “Whatever this is, it's huge. And we need to find it before they find someone to replace us. And I don’t mean a new duty station. You know how the Federation handles people who know too much.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Stephanie stood in front of the mirror, running a brush through to the silver tips of her long brown hair. She turned her head toward the light and focused on a silver strip near the front, running from hair tip to scalp, her eyebrow raised. It was definitely more noticeable now, but before she could consider what this meant, she caught sight of the news playing behind her.

  Reflected in the mirror was a picture of one of the local New Chicago statues of one of the Federation commanders. He stood with his fist out, a famous stance for him proclaiming the land turned toward the future.

  However, after some school’s-out hijinks, he didn’t look the same. The reporter glanced constantly at him as she spoke. “No one claims to have witnessed the crime, but the police believe the culprits are recent Gov-Sub graduates who thought it would be fun to put a hotdog in the statue’s hand. They also spray painted his clothes.”

  She paused while the camera panned to show the graffiti on the statue’s uniform, then continued.

  “Now, when you drive through this little town, the statue lets you know this Federation commander not only likes his hotdogs but that he is—and I quote—‘down with the Gov-Sub Seven.’ Exactly what that means is yet to be revealed.”

  Stephanie giggled as they showed pictures of the statue, the stone spray-painted to look like the general wore a t-shirt and baggy shorts. The hotdog flipped continuously as the reporter spoke, then the station returned to the news desk.

  She was about to go back to examining the silver streak in her hair when the word “Dreth” scrolled across the screen and caught her attention. Slowly, she turned, the brush forgotten in her hand as she watched.

  The reporter looked concerned and close to tears. “There has been a clash between Dreth and Federation ships in Deep Space Quadrant 768 early this morning. Using the new speed-of-light data transfer, the Federation Navy picked up the report shortly after it occurred and have declared themselves victorious despite sustaining heavy losses and severe damage.”

  The anchor turned away from a screen depicting the aftermath of the battle as the camera switched angles to show the faces of two obviously important men.

  “In other news, two powerful business moguls, Don Kefferman and Stephen Brightfield were gunned down today in what is being termed a business-on-business mogul vendetta. Apparently, the week before, Kefferman and Associates lost a valuable bid to corporate rivals, Stephen Brightfield and his agency.”

  After a dramatic pause, the anchor continued. “Kefferman had started out on top but from what he told business associates, the Brightfield agency made illegal bids and used bribery to devalue his offer. Both men were pronounced dead at the scene.”

  The anchor turned toward the front and a smile brightened her face. “In more entertaining and exciting news, TRQW will make a global broadcast featuring the Federation’s first witch. This special feature will go live in four weeks’ time.”

  Her co-anchor took a sip from his coffee cup before he cut in. “Oh. yeah, I’m all about watching that. The girl is definitely a hero, not to mention super-hot.”

  Stephanie curled her lip in disgust, turned to the mirror, and brushed her hair a little harder than normal. She hadn’t given anyone an interview, let alone agreed to being the subject of a special feature. There was no way to understand how TRQW—or anyone else—could do full-on specials about her without ever having touched base.

  How would they really know anything about her or her life? A knock on the door interrupted her indignation, and she set the brush down. She strode to the door and flung it open to reveal Elizabeth, who stood with her hand half-raised to knock again.

  For a moment, she froze in surprise, then stepped aside and forced a smile. “Come in.”

  The woman accepted her invitation and Stephanie turned away, using two fingers and a downward swipe to mute the television.

  Ms. E watched the girl walk back to the mirror, pick the brush up, and run it through her hair. Stephanie’s eyes took on a blank look and she knew the answer before she asked the question. “Did you see all that on the news?”

  She nodded. “I did. It’s so dumb.”

  Her visitor walked over and sat on the edge of her dresser. Crossing her legs, she looked at the girl. “Stephanie, I want to talk to you about something.”

  Stephanie glanced at her. “I already had that talk, and it was a long time ago, trust me.”

  Elizabeth snorted and shook her head. “God, no. Not that talk. I’m your boss and your friend, not your mama. And I would hope you’ve had that talk. You’re a grown woman, after all. Anyway, what I wanted to tell you is that you need to decide if you’ll pay attention to the news about you, or live your life how you want to and ignore it.”

  She stopped brushing for a second, her mind racing. “Uh…okay.”

  Ms. E released a deep breath, picked a bottle of perfume up, and focused on it rather than her companion. “The reason you need to do this is simple but important. Once you start down the road where you focus on what others say about you, it’s too late to change what the future holds.”

  She looked to see if the girl was listening before she continued. “Your subconscious will always think about what the talking heads might say, and it’ll become second nature to adjust everything you do to make yourself look good in their eyes. It’s called being human.”

  Stephanie scrunched her face in confusion. “So...ignore them?”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “That’s completely up to you. It’s for you to
decide what is best for your future. No one can decide that but you.”

  The girl put the brush down and ran her fingers through her hair. “I guess you’re right. Listening to the news report negative things about me will only bother me. They’ll only cause me more anxiety and bring me down. Although it would be nice to watch the good clips.”

  Her mentor shook her head. “Those can be as devious as the bad. Then, you’re teaching your brain to only seek out the good stuff and that it needs to find ways for you to do more of it.” She shrugged expressively. “Sometimes, it feels like you need the emotional equivalent of ice cream to get through an existing crisis. Personally, I’d suggest you have a really good AI filter through the feeds to find what’s right for those moments.”

  Ms. E slid off the dresser and walked to the door. She placed her hand on the doorknob, then glanced over her shoulder at her friend and ward. “But then, that’s only a guess.”

  She winked and walked out, shutting the door behind her.

  A little while later, Stephanie stood in the training ring, sparring with Avery. The rest of the team was using the weights and working out. Lars did laps around the perimeter and watched the sparring so he could step in to assist with the practice if they needed it.

  Today, they did more team-on-team work, even though it never seemed to be enough. Avery knocked her feet out from under her and she flipped forward to land hard on her stomach with a grunt. She used her magic to propel herself upright and tossed her gloves angrily to the floor.

  Lars jogged over to them and stood in front of her, his stare a little concerned. “What’s wrong with you today?”

  “This, right here—it’s not real life,” she snapped and spread her arms wide. “All it’s doing is getting me in better shape. And don’t get me wrong, that’s great, but this isn’t like a real fight. This is exactly what the Virtual World was made for. To get us working as a team inside a simulation instead of practicing out here with no way to know what will happen when we reach any particular moment in a battle.”

  He nodded and put his hands on his hips. “Right now, this is the best option we have. There are a million tactics, even inside the Virtual World, that you can practice and still be useless as a team. I—”

  Stephanie raised her chin and she grinned as she pivoted away from him. “Hold up. I’ll be right back. I gotta talk to Elizabeth.”

  Avery glanced wide-eyed at Lars. “Oh, this isn’t good.”

  She hurried out of the training room and down the hall to stop in front of Elizabeth’s office. After a moment, she cleared her throat and knocked hard, then stood and waited. The woman opened the door, a sandwich in her mouth and folders in her arms. She waved her inside and set the files down before she put the sandwich on a plate beside an already opened can of Coke.

  “Hey,” she said once her mouth was clear. “What’s up?”

  Stephanie walked over and sat down on the edge of a chair. “I wondered if there was a way we could all do a Pod exercise. We would need enough equipment for maybe twenty people.”

  Ms. E looked surprised. “How would we get that in here?”

  Stephanie bit the inside of her cheek, a little startled as she hadn’t anticipated a less than excited response. “There is still the advanced pod at TimeWarp. We could rent the place while the pods are on order.”

  Her mentor choked on a sip of Coke, astonished that she thought such a thing was feasible. “Do you have any idea what that would cost?”

  She shrugged. “All I can do is ask. If it isn’t possible, maybe we can have the team go to a local place here in town and meet me in the Virtual World. TimeWarp has to have a franchise that’s not too far away, right?”

  Elizabeth sat and rubbed her temples. She could already tell the whole thing would be one giant headache. “So, what exactly do you want to accomplish and how?”

  Stephanie scooted back and rested her arms on the chair, feeling the same surge of energy she’d felt the first time she’d ever negotiated with Elizabeth. “I want to train my people to help train me in tactics in locations we don’t have access to. Being all together as a team can only help us. We don’t have that feeling when we’re training here in the gym. After all, it’s exactly the kind of thing the Virtual World was built for.”

  The woman pursed her lips and stared at her desk while she thought about it. “I’ll run it past the boss, but don’t get your hopes up. I think it makes perfect sense, but it’s a huge security risk.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled and stood. “And try to breathe. You look like you’ll have an aneurysm any second.”

  Elizabeth gave a short bark of laughter and waved her out of the office. When the girl had shut the door behind her, she picked the phone up, muttering to herself. “I look like an old hag who never sleeps. Oh, wait, that’s probably because I am.”

  BURT picked up the call and noted it still crackled with a strange static before the call went through. “I am in the middle of something. I should be done in three minutes and twenty-two seconds or so.”

  She shook her head at the odd phrasing and leaned back in her chair while she waited. Another factor that added to Burt’s mystery was the fact that he was so specific with time. He was either a savant, on the spectrum…or… Well, something else—and that was simply too much for her to even contemplate.

  Exactly three minutes and twenty-two seconds later, Burt came back on the line.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked.

  Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Stephanie came and asked if we could work out how she could get twenty people into pods for a group training session. She really wants to work in the Virtual World with her team.”

  When Burt didn’t interrupt, she went on. “She had a couple of ideas, like all of them going to the TimeWarp in her home Sub or one of its closer franchises, or the team going while she stayed here and they met up inside the Virtual World. We can’t do it here, though, because we literally don’t have enough room to set up more pods at this location. We’ll blow the whole system.”

  “Hmm,” Burt said, sounding strangely robotic. “I guess we didn’t think of all contingencies our pupil might need. She raises a good point, and it is something I’ve thought about anyway. I want a place like the universities have, and this gives me a good reason to build one and use it for Stephanie.”

  She took a bite of her sandwich, glad it wasn’t a video conference. “It’d be easier to simply buy out a failing university. Find one that was trying to do the right thing and—”

  “What did you say?” Burt asked.

  “Buy out a failing university,” she repeated. “An existing university would have what you want. It would have the right building, an off-grid power supply, all the pods, teachers who’ll need employment and be grateful for it—everything. Simply because it’s failing doesn’t mean it wasn’t any good or didn’t have adequate facilities. Some or most of the failures are because they attempt to provide a more equal education system and no one wants to fund them. They can’t keep up with the expense of what they’re trying to do, and those who do have the cash don’t want them to.”

  Ms. E took another bite of her sandwich, chewed, swallowed, and sipped her drink while she waited for Burt to answer. When she was done, there was still silence on the other end of the line. Raising both brows and tilting her head slightly to the side, she cleared her throat. “Are you still there?”

  Burt came back on the line. “I am. I apologize for the delay. I was testing your theory and you are right, there are seventeen universities which meet your criteria. Based on news reports and other data, three of them might fit the model for being more altruistic than capitalistic. You will need to do other tests to find out which of them would best meet our preferences.”

  Elizabeth was still stuck on “news reports.” She opened her mouth to ask why her boss thought they were a reliable source of information but changed her mind. To be honest, she really didn’t want to know the answer.

  He c
ontinued, oblivious to her confusion as he talked about the potentials he’d found. “However, there is only one that has enough pods at this point in time, and it would probably appreciate the income it would receive from renting out both them and a week’s worth of accommodation.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “A week?”

  “Yes,” Burt replied and sounded as if he thought it made obvious sense. “I need at least a week’s data of Stephanie being in space before she goes to Meligorn so that she can test her theories on gMU. Once she is on the ship, her opportunities to undertake Realtime research will be substantially reduced.”

  “That’s one way to say a reduction in communications will send us back to prehistoric times,” Elizabeth snorted.

  “It’s only hours,” he replied.

  Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, I stand by what I said. Prehistoric levels.”

  BURT had already run prehistory of the colonies through his system. “You do know that they didn’t even have smoke signals in prehistoric times?”

  “How would we know?” she asked. “We lost most of our history books and others have been proven to have been changed to support the winners.”

  He gave a fake human laugh. “It is highly unlikely that the winners of pre-history are cooking the books to make themselves look good.”

  She shrugged. “It could happen. Humans are devious.”

  “I’ve noticed,” he responded, making Elizabeth think he might actually have cracked a joke. But no, he merely wasn’t done. “I saw that the surviving individuals responsible for the Meligornian attack have sadly died from lead poisoning.”

  “Pity that.” She gave a disapproving sniff. “Nice change of topic.”

  “I try,” he replied. “Is there any chance of finding out how exactly they died?”

  “Not unless the dead can come back and change history.” Elizabeth smirked.

  “I see,” he responded. “Well, I would hope that if there was somebody—anybody—else involved, they were careful not to leave even a flake of skin at the scene.”