There was no bulk export of financial data on multiple individuals or across multiple sources, so it took some time. He had to prepare the paperwork for accessing the private financial data for every person in his suspect list and apply his digital signature as both the requester and the flag approval. He saved all those documents in his archive, and copied them to a memory chip from his pocket, then put the memory chip back in his pocket.
When he had all the data collected, he took another memory chip out of his pocket and loaded a new software package into the system. They called this the integrator-visualizer. It would assemble all the data – the financial data, the personnel data, the death data, the planet of origin data, the organization chart, and the mail connectivity data – into one huge chart. He set the software to work on the data he had collected. It would need to run all night for this dataset.
When he finally set that running it was 02:00. He knocked off for the night and walked across the base to his townhouse.
Saturday was nominally a day off from his normal duties, so he donned a plain, midnight-blue shipsuit, the casual wear of choice on base. He had a late-morning breakfast at the Officers Mess and then walked over to the Planetary Intelligence Headquarters.
Campbell was going to try something else today, something he didn’t care for much. Of course, all his data research, entry, and organization had been done in virtual reality, or VR. He had surgically embedded implants, with an inductive connection just below the skin on the back of his neck. Contact with the VR transponder in the headrest of the task chair in his Class 2 workspace allowed him to access the terminal completely in VR.
What he had not done yet is use full-immersive VR. He had the full-immersive VR implant kit – sight, sound, smell, touch, hands, locomotion, everything – but he had not used it. Everything had been done using the VR as nothing more than a virtual keyboard and display. To allow his intuition and experience their full reach, though, he needed to use full VR. And he just plain didn’t like it.
He got great results with it, he had to admit. There was nothing like being in the data to see the data. And he had to admit there would be no way to work with the huge integrated dataset without it. But he didn’t like the loss of control. His perceptions of the real world, and his ability to interact with it – to sense and ward off a physical attack, for example – were diminished almost to zero. It made his skin crawl.
He had been putting it off, but, with his first-stage collection of data complete and the dataset integrated, now was the time.
He had picked Saturday and Sunday for this, because the normal office functions of the base were shut down for the weekend. There would be fewer people in and out of the building today, and he could take one additional precaution. He keyed his account into the thumb scanners on the entrances of the Planetary Operations Headquarters. If one of his suspects swiped into the building, the system would alarm him and he would be out of the VR and back into normal reality well before they could make it to his location.
With that precaution in place, he made the switch to full immersion and entered the integrated dataset in the visualizer portion of the application.
Campbell found himself inside a vast, three-dimensional network of nodes multiply connected by variously colored strands. It went on seemingly forever in all directions, the thousands of nodes each representing a CSF staff member on base. The multi-colored strands were the interconnections, whether mail connections, listed companions, or reporting structure. He could touch any node and see the financial data, planet of origin, and other personnel data for any person. And nodes representing his suspicious deaths on base were highlighted in one color, the nodes of his suspects in another.
He had whole-sphere vision in immersive VR, a trick the brain could be taught once you had full-immersive VR implants, so he saw all the way around, as well as up and down, all in one view.
Campbell lay there and let it all wash into him, paying attention to nothing, allowing his mind to settle into a holistic view of the vast data web without concentrating on anything in particular. He thought of it as soaking in the data. After several minutes, once his mind switched gears and the disturbing view became ‘normal’ – this wasn’t his first time in the visualizer, after all; not by a long shot – he began manipulating the orientation of the data. He selected his suspects and the suspicious deaths, already highlighted, and centered them around himself. The rest of the data pivoted and wheeled about as nodes were pulled this way and that by their interconnectedness until they settled into a new pattern.
It could be a wildly disorienting and nauseating experience, that realignment of the web around his data manipulation, as the data squirmed and wheeled around him, but it no longer bothered him. The key was that initial several minutes of contemplation and opening his mind to the data, soaking it in, and recognizing when his mind had made the switch. Newcomers to the software found out in a hurry that reorienting the data immediately on entering the visualizer was ill-advised. Some never recovered from the experience and could never use the visualizer again without becoming instantly violently ill.
Campbell let the new pattern stabilize, and left himself open to the data, just soaking it in without concentrating on any one thing. After several minutes he highlighted the nodes with non-CSF origins. The web lit up all throughout its volume. He cut that off, and selected only those with Duval or Oerwoud origins, and highlighted them. He considered that view for a while, but no pattern was obvious. He then selected only those with Duval origins, and highlighted them. The highlights were now concentrated where he was, and fewer farther away.
He moved out of the center of his suspects, so he could see his suspect volume from outside. His suspects and the suspicious deaths were highlighted, with the additional highlight of the Duval-born, and he had a clear concentration in his suspect volume. He switched to a highlight of only those with Oerwoud origins, and saw no similar concentration. So, probably Duval, then.
Campbell switched back to those with Duval origins and moved back into his suspect volume. After several minutes, he reached out and grabbed a single strand to highlight it. The highlight spread out through the web, diminishing in intensity where it was not reinforced by the connectivity of the nodes, and increasing in intensity where it was. It faded rather quickly.
He let that strand go and considered, then selected another. This one, in contrast, lit up brightly for a web of connectivity in several directions before fading out. Bingo.
On a hunch, Campbell added an orange-colored highlight for those whose lifestyle or financial situation had taken a significant upward turn. Several of the nodes in his little highlighted web took on an orange hue. He added a blue highlight on suspicious deaths that resulted in the promotion anyone in his highlighted web, and two nodes adjacent to his highlighted web glowed blue.
Campbell froze that view and sat considering it. Soaking it in. That sure looked like a prime candidate for his little espionage ring. It wasn’t any proof of anything, however. It was all coincidence and contiguity and connectivity, but not proof. Suspicious as hell, but not proof.
He saved that view, then tried every other strand that connected between or into his suspect pool, but no other strand lit up a web like that. He’d hit it on the second try, a testament to his intuition and visualization skills, but thoroughness had required he try all the others so as not to miss something else, some other, better, link.
Campbell reloaded the saved view and let it settle in his mind again. Everything he had done so far had been without regard to who the nodes represented. Of course, the highlights were his suspect pool and the suspicious deaths to start with, but he had no idea who was in his little highlighted web. Now he reached out to the individual nodes to see who they were.
First, where was the center of the web? Who was the ringleader, at least on base? No doubt the ring was being run by someone in the Duval consulate, but who was the center of the action on base? He considered his little web, th
en touched a node. Nope. Another. Nope. Hmm. This one? The highlight spread from that node to encompass his little web. OK, so who is that guy? The head of Housekeeping, Commander Vilis Schenk.
What a perfect job for a spy ring leader. You can go anywhere on base and you were anonymous. Not much more than part of the furniture. Put on a coverall, carry a toolbox, and go anywhere. Install audio and video pickups anywhere. Bug furniture, too, like putting a video pickup in a lamp, for example.
Or arrange for a maid to swap the lamps. “Hey, the guy in O-23 is complaining the lamps are hard to turn on and off. He probably rearranged the furniture and doesn’t realize the switches on the two lamps are opposite each other. Check it out, and swap the lamps if that’ll help.” Slick.
Arrange accidents, too, for that matter.
When was he promoted? About two years ago, after the accidental death of the previous head of Housekeeping. How had he died? A scaffold had fallen on him when he was inspecting a work site. Common construction accident, didn’t raise any eyebrows. Had the guy who got promoted been there, too? Yup. He had been injured, in fact, as he was on the scaffold when it fell. He twisted his ankle hitting the ground. Pain, but no break. Perfect cover. “Ow, doc. That hurts.” Wear a boot for a month, to remind everyone of how close you were to getting seriously hurt, too, then lose the boot. “No, it’s been feeling a lot better. Doc says I don’t need it anymore.”
Who was this person here? Lieutenant Mona Singh, a clerk in Admiral Rao’s office. Assistant to her secretary, Lieutenant Commander Rita Allyn. Singh had had some bad financial problems a couple years back, but they were apparently under control now. She had redecorated her apartment recently, by the looks of her commissary purchases. And of course she had access to all the documents circulating around in that office, including plans for the upcoming exercises.
And this person? Lieutenant Christopher Sobol. Night-shift supervisor in the Communications Center. Well, that’s how you get messages in and out without detection. Have someone in the Communications Center who can send unlogged ‘test messages’ when no one else is around. Only two people stand shift in the Communications Center at night. Whenever your underling goes to the necessary or is performing other jobs outside the control room, you do whatever you want.
And this person? The assistant head of counter-intelligence, Commander Veronica Kinley. She headed up all the analysis done in the counter-intelligence department, and was in a position to affect policy in the assessments and advice she gave to her boss. Which no doubt got repeated to Rear Admiral Sumit Langford, the planetary intelligence chief. She’s no doubt where the assessment came from that the recent incursion force had probably been laying in wait in hyperspace.
Oh, and she was born on Duval and took the Exam at twenty-one, going straight into CSF Officer Candidate School. She was also the listed companion of Lieutenant Commander Allyn’s clerk, Lieutenant Mona Singh, and had also made purchases for their recent remodeling.
She was promoted when the previous assistant head of counter-intelligence on Bliss had been killed in what the police called a mugging gone bad. He was a known party guy – which was a bad hobby for a counter-intelligence agent, unless it was a cover – and had been mugged while out bar-hopping in Joy. He fought back, though drunk, and they had beaten him to death in subduing him.
Or so the police report said.
And this person? Lieutenant Commander Kyle Acheson.
Campbell saved the dataset in this view, then extracted his little web from the greater dataset and saved it as a separate file. He pulled out of the visualizer and full-immersion VR back into normal terminal mode.
There were some countermeasures he could take. One was to log all ‘unlogged test messages’ in the Communications Center to his secure account. They would still show as unlogged to the Communications Center night operator. Another was to use his override authority to counter the privacy settings on the mail system server and blind copy all mails and messages for his suspects to his secure account. If they kept any kind of communications discipline, he wouldn’t pick up much, but if they were going to be sloppy, he’d take it.
Campbell wrapped up the full dataset, with all his notes and the extracted data of his likely spy ring, into a message directly to Vice Admiral Jake Durand, encrypted it, marked it Eyes Only, then re-encrypted it. The listed sender would be this secure terminal account, not his compromised local account, and any return message would come to this terminal only. There was no indication in the message or its header that it came from him, but Durand would know.
It was a month round-tip for fast-courier mail to Jablonka, so he didn’t expect anything for a while. But what sending the message meant was that, no matter what happened here on Bliss, Durand would know what was going on. Which was important, because the next steps could get personally dangerous for him. He had no proof. He needed to get the organization to out itself, and the best way to do that was to get them after him.
Once he had proof, he didn’t need any orders to go on to the next step. He had standing orders with respect to foreign intelligence operations on Commonwealth soil. Once murder was involved – and he suspected at least those two, the head of Housekeeping and the assistant head of counter-intelligence, were murdered by this ring – his standing orders were clear.
Neutralize.
Campbell’s stomach growled and he looked at his watch. 22:00. He had spent ten hours inside the immersive VR. That was one of the things about immersive VR. Since everything you saw, or heard, or felt was supplied by the machine, little things like missing meals went by without notice.
He headed out of the Planetary Operations Headquarters to the Officers Mess, where he ate his supper in solitude while he considered how to proceed.
He could tease them a bit. Make it look like he was stumbling onto what was going on. Maybe get a response. There were the interviews this week with the department heads of those accidental deaths, the two he attributed preliminarily to this group. The department heads there now were the ones who got promoted into place, and whom he suspected of being in on the conspiracy.
He could also make some discreet comments to Acheson, as if he was letting him into his confidence. Get Acheson worked up if nothing else.
Those things might get them communicating, which he was now in a position to intercept, at least if they used CSF channels. If they used civilian channels, Campbell would probably need a court order, and then things got messy.
And Jan was coming up for two weeks of planet leave beginning next weekend. Senior Captain Brian Dahl and the squadron’s second division would handle the exercises the first two weeks.
So did he push now, and hope for something to break before Jan came planetside, or wait until after she was gone, back into space to be the hostile force for the second round of exercises? He didn’t particularly want things to come to a head while she was on leave. She could be a target of the conspirators as well. Of course, they would probably be surprised there, too.
He hadn’t decided what path to take by the time he went back to the townhouse and to bed.
Interviews Begin
Sunday Campbell got up and had breakfast at the Officers Mess, then headed over to the gym. The Enshin sparring area wasn’t very busy at the moment, as only the serious types were there. They watched the new guy with the senior captain’s badges on his shipsuit come through the gym with some curiosity. He went on into the changing room and came out in gi and plain white belt. He did some warm-ups and then looked for a sparring partner.
None of the more experienced people would spar with him until he had defeated a couple of less skilled people pretty handily. Finally, a young chief petty officer with two knots on his black belt agreed to spar with him.
Campbell initially got him down for the three-count pretty easily.
“Come on, Chief. Do it like you mean it. I’m not fragile.”
“As the Captain orders, sir.”
Campbell laughed and they set t
o it. This was much more satisfying, and they split the next four three-counts.
Sitting there cooling off, the chief asked him what his posting was, and Campbell said he was on Bliss temporarily before moving on yet again.
“Must be hard to stay in practice, moving on so often.”
“Well, I’m on a heavy cruiser, and she has a sparring area. Admiral Childers and I manage to get in a few three-counts every other day.”
“Admiral Jan Childers?”
“Yes. She commands the squadron I’m spacing around with.”
“Well, then, that makes me feel pretty good, Sir, to split bouts with you. Never got a chance to spar with the Admiral, but her reputation at Enshin goes way back.”
“I can hold my own with her. I have the reach advantage, but she’s fast as a snake. She moves faster than you can hit her. But you’d do okay against her.”
“Maybe one day. One more go, Sir? Break the tie?”
“Sure, Chief.”
The chief took him down, so they were 3-2 after the chief got serious about it, 3-3 including the earlier, tentative bout.
“Not bad for your age, Sir,” the chief said.
“Thanks, Chief. I think,” Campbell said, and the chief chuckled.
It made Campbell think, though. Maybe he was getting too old for this stuff.
Campbell had lunch in the Officers Mess and then headed over to the Planetary Operations Headquarters. Down in his Class 2 secure workspace, he checked the communications logs on his suspects from the night before. It was the weekend, though, and all was quiet. Then he logged into the Personnel Division database in administrator mode.
He had decided how he was going to proceed. He would string things along until Jan went back up to her ship. She wouldn’t take the whole two weeks as uninterrupted planet leave anyway. She’d be up and down a couple of times, and would go back several days early, if prior experience was any guide. And he needed to shake his chaperone for a while.
Campbell- The Problem With Bliss Page 6
