Elite

by Allen Stroud

  Private lines were available on request and cost credits. They could still be hacked or broken into, but the corporation providing them had a vested interest in maintaining client confidentiality. Kel was pretty sure from the desperately happy tone of the OTC operator, Austin Town had no wish to make a bad impression on any potential customer. The Arquce system got few enough visitors.

  The ship increased speed, rotated and dropped into the docking bay. Kel cleared the viewscreens and felt the familiar pinch of gravity as the Sidewinder settled into its berth. A deep metallic crunch confirmed the moorings and a few moments later, the datascreen on the dashboard pinged back into life with the words ‘secure data feed active’ flashing in green. Kel touched the log panel and keyed in some details to access his private message box.

  One new message.

  It was a video file, he opened it.

  A face he recognised appeared on the screen. Blonde hair, blue eyes, with crow’s feet and uneven teeth from a misunderstanding two years back. Faith. a trader, working out of Reorte, a loyal friend and more. ‘Heldaban, if you’re getting this message it means you’ve managed to get to some form of civilisation. Listen, Federal Intelligence are on to us, the guy who got past you tried to bluff out Arrik. Things are messy and ... well ... sorry, no easy way to say this ... Arrik’s dead ...’

  Kel’s fingers bunched into fists. Silently he shut down the video file.

  * * *

  Administrator,

  You have asked for detailed information relating to the military manoeuvres conducted by the Furnace during the years 3264 to 3266, whilst under the command of Admiral Bryce Jander. Whilst we cannot furnish you with detailed operational information, we can confirm presence of this ship in the Quator system.

  In this instance, Wreaken Construction and Mining had commissioned the Furnace to act as a refuelling station and security escort for their prospection team operating in the system. This was not an unusual mission and in fact, had been the ship's primary operational engagement for most of its time in that galactic region.

  Your request for further information about the corporation Argent and its connections with our military office are difficult to fulfil. We no longer deal with them in the same way and are having trouble locating records that would give you the answers you are asking for.

  I understand you are attempting to gain access to further protected Alliance military information so as to obtain a picture of the role of the Furnace in the conclusion of the civil war on Lave. Since this is a significant moment of political history, I will do my best to support your application for further details.

  Mattias Aimes – Alioth Defence Minister.

  * * *

  Chapter 17: The Council

  For the fourth time in a week, Bertrum Kowl walked stiffly to the elevator, his aide on rota, Gramos, the smooth talking man from before, two steps behind. The floor selected, just below the roof.

  The meeting chamber.

  The customary council of the four prefects of Lave occurred once a year. The nature of their relationship and vocation made it impossible to meet in person, so they met as holographic projections.

  The room was the largest in the whole building. They kept it dark. In the centre were four seats at a circular table, with a datascreen built into the surface. Bertrum took his customary seat on the left, nearest the door, knowing that in three identical rooms elsewhere on the planet, his peers would do the same.

  As he sat down, the lights on the central console shifted from red to green and three other people appeared at the table. The prefects were present in every possible way but reality. The wall was invisible behind them, they did not shimmer, yet a hand could pass through their bodies.

  The tanned and flawless form of Brunan, prefect of Kadia sat in the equatorial warmth; bald and fat Roland Delani, the prefect of Neudaal, in the rain season; and Han Moore, the powdered prefect of Ardu, amidst the rarefied atmosphere of altitude. Each would be operating on a different local time, for Bertrum, 1500 hours and mid afternoon.

  They were the four regional directors of Lave’s planetary population, the topmost of the rungs of ruling power; above them, stood only one man.

  Walden.

  At the corner of the room, Bertrum’s aide waited silently, ready to be dispatched should the prefect require anything. In the other rooms across the planet, similar individuals would wait. Bertrum wondered momentarily what a collection of wonderful secrets they might be privy to.

  ‘Ah, at last, Prefect, we waited for you,’ Brunan said, displaying a full set of white shining teeth.

  Bertrum raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment. It was a running slight from the last two years, attempted at each meeting, designed to put him off. The first few times he’d checked the time and left the office early, yet was always last to the table. Then he’d realised what was being done and ignored it. ‘I assume you’ve all had a chance to read over the material I sent?’ he asked, projecting confidence and authority. The words mattered less than the tone.

  ‘Indeed,’ Moore simpered, ‘your first holiday since taking office.’

  ‘Hardly a holiday, we need a new Imperial ambassador, I will procure one.’

  ‘Which of us is to monitor your region while you are away?’ Delani asked. Bertrum glanced at him and recoiled inside. The man looked permanently hungry.

  ‘It is a short trip, my staff will manage,’ he replied. ‘I am sure you will all keep an eye on things if the worst happens.’

  ‘To which system will you go?’

  ‘Quince. Everything is arranged.’

  ‘A good choice Prefect,’ Brunan said, ‘and we should all be grateful you are taking a personal hand in this. You have sacrificed so much for so long. You have earned a break and a chance to let their technology assist you.’

  A slow flush spread across Bertrum’s face, but he kept his expression in check. ‘If you mean my legs, yes I will be undergoing a corrective procedure during the stay.’

  ‘I wish you a speedy recovery,’ Moore said.

  No you don’t, Bertrum thought, but nodded. ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  ‘Has the Good Doctor approved your request?’ Delani asked.

  ‘Yes he has,’ Bertrum said. He remembered Walden’s words from a few days back. Perhaps you should rest, take a break from all this. It made sense to find a way to comply with his overseer’s wishes and the risk was minimised owing to the need for the mission. ‘I received my travel papers this morning.’

  ‘When do you leave?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  Delani didn’t seem pleased, but then he never did. ‘I’m sure your trip wasn’t the only thing you wished to discuss?’

  ‘No indeed,’ Bertrum replied and smiled, a rarity in the past fifteen years. ‘This is what I wanted to talk to you about ...’

  * * *

  ‘Seats everyone,’ Admiral Jander said. Smoothly, the eight senior officers of the Furnace all drew out their chairs and sat at the long table in the carrier’s strategy room. At the far end, Mister Ferris the Wreaken representative and their client, took his seat, a beat behind the others. Jander ignored the gesture, scanning the expectant faces and those not so expectant.

  Jander put Ferris there intentionally. The battle group remained under contract to the corporation, who contributed to running costs during the mission, but on occasion, Ferris interpreted this to mean he could decide ship policy. Keep your enemy in sight, Jander thought, best lesson I learned at the academy.

  Along the wall, nine different viewscreens showed an image of each ship captain in the support fleet. The procedure was cumbersome, but meant Jander had all officers in attendance. The captains would listen in to the briefing and discuss issues with the admiral afterwards.

  ‘To matters at hand, ship ident A00013320B546, the Gallant, which just appeared on top of us,’ Jander said. ‘I read the technician’s report on the crew and I’m reasonably comfortable with our tactical position here, but I want your asses
sments.’ He turned to Commander Ennis, the ship’s executive officer, the next most senior man at the table. ‘Thoughts?’

  Ennis shrugged. He was a dour cynic, passed over for promotion, several times. A thin head of grey hair and sour smile reserved for screw ups. Just the sort Jander needed to keep younger ensigns in line. ‘A Cobra Mark III’s no threat, but their arrival was strange. This system was chosen for us because it has next to no traffic. Why they’d pick the same ... might be coincidence, but if word gets out we’re here ...’

  ‘It’s bound to happen eventually and we’ve planned for it,’ Jander said. ‘I’ve asked Lieutenant Cassom to prepare an updated overview based on what we’ve learned, Lieutenant?’

  A red-haired young woman carrying a data slate nodded, stood up and touched two keys on the table. A three dimensional image of the Furnace and the surrounding systems appeared.

  ‘I’m sure everyone’s familiar with our position, here, on the edge of the region known as the Old Worlds. These systems were first colonised back the twenty-fifth century and formed the centre of the Galactic Co-operative. When that fell apart in the 3100s, most of the colonies out here were left to fend for themselves.’

  ‘Both the Federation and Empire maintain interests here, but disputes in Ackancphi,’ she pointed at a system some distance away, ‘keeps their eyes on each other, allowing us to travel here, relatively undetected, as outlined in our mission brief.’

  ‘Since the fall of the Co-operative, one or two places, did better than others,’ Cassom touched the dataslate and the picture zoomed in to their current location. ‘Without support, Quator’s economy collapsed and the colonised planet fell into civil war over what resources they had. With limited access to ships, most of the star system remained undeveloped.’

  ‘Which was why we chose Quator in our original proposal to the Alliance,’ Mister Ferris interjected, ‘if you recall, Admiral?’

  ‘I do,’ Jander replied. ‘Please continue.’

  ‘Since arriving, we have monitored traffic and sent support ships to both Reorte and Orrere. These systems are marginally more developed and are part of the main intersystem trade lanes. Reorte is run by a collection of local corporations, but Orrere is in a similar condition to Quator; wracked by civil war. The only difference being it has two star ports. Further out are Riedquat and Uszaa, also disputed systems.’

  Ennis pointed at Orrere in the starfield. ‘The minute we move, we announce our presence to everyone.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Jander replied, ‘but, as our plans for Quator develop, we risk revealing ourselves anyway. It’s worth knowing the options. What do we know about Lave, Lieutenant?’

  ‘I pulled the data archive, Admiral,’ Cassom said. ‘Before the Galactic Co-operative fell, Lave was the region capital. Afterwards, there was conflict before the system reverted to a dictatorship in 3174. It remains the region’s economic hub and some of the older fleet assets are maintained. Of any place out here, it’s the most powerful, militarily.’

  ‘Thank you Lieutenant, I recall that from the briefing,’ Jander said. ‘What have we learned since?’

  ‘Traffic from Reorte is constant,’ Cassom said, manipulating the view to focus on Lave. ‘This appears to be the main trade route. Import/export from Orrere tends to be sporadic and mostly illegal. Reorte to Riedquat is another used trade lane, but local pilots talk about problems in the Formidine Rift; something to do with an unchartable area of space and ships going missing.’

  Chuckles and murmuring spread around the table until Ennis held up a hand, his expression serious. ‘So why did our friend in the Cobra come here? If Orrere to Lave is the pirate and smuggler’s route, why bother with Quator?’

  Jander frowned, a little irked that the point hadn’t occurred to him. ‘You think we need to reconsider Mister Devander’s position as a spy?’ he asked.

  ‘I think we shouldn’t draw conclusions until we get more data,’ Ennis said. ‘Lieutenant, what do we know about the disposition of Lave’s fleet assets?’

  ‘Not much sir,’ Cassom replied. ‘What they have stays in-system or moves out to Diso – their nearest neighbour – little more than a farm world. Most of these systems have limited planetary bodies and stations; which means ships tend to cluster.’

  ‘Could they hurt us?’ Ennis asked.

  ‘The larger vessels are at least a hundred years old,’ Cassom said, ‘but we should be cautious.’

  ‘Admiral,’ Ferris said. ‘This is all hypothetical? Why would these people be interested in our activities in a system they neglect?’

  ‘They probably won’t be, Mister Ferris,’ Jander replied, ‘but if we ignore a threat, we’d be fools, particularly after our recent visitor.’ He touched the table screen in front of him and Technician Kullen’s report appeared. Jander flipped the pages until he came to the entry he was looking for and turned to Captain Seyne, the Eagle pilot who’d been nearest to the ship. ‘Did you test the transponder Kullen attached to their communications array?’

  ‘I did sir,’ Seyne replied. ‘We can track them directly in-system, every time a hyper-jump is made between there and here, our ships are doing this on rotation for the moment,’ he keyed the table as well and a tiny orange dot appeared on the three-dimensional system display. ‘That’s them.’

  Jander smiled. ‘Good.’

  ‘Lot of wasted fuel for one ship,’ Ennis remarked.

  ‘Only a waste if we learn nothing Commander,’ Seyne said. ‘Plus, we’ll receive regular data from their scanning system, so we may be able to determine the whereabouts of the Lavian Fleet.’

  ‘All good to know,’ Jander replied. ‘Well done, Captain.’

  * * *

  ‘Treason! You’re out of your mind!’ Delani shouted.

  Bertrum stayed quiet, he sat and waited for the others to add the protestation, but they didn’t, instead they eyed each other warily.

  ‘I assure you, Prefect. I am within my mind,’ he said at last in a calm voice. ‘I do want to thank the prefect of Kadia for his assistance with the recent trade factor situation in Darahk. Without his offer of aid, I would not have uncovered so much.’

  ‘You can’t be accusing me?’ Brunan said, his voice equally calm.

  ‘No, but I present the facts,’ Bertrum replied. ‘Over the last six months, procurement records between regions have seen vast fluctuations. Grain shipping reductions, despite a good harvest, power production dropping off. No change in our environment, but manufactured output also slowed. A conversation we had, prompted me to examine the records. I found no plausible explanation for these drops, but I did find off-world payment records and funds being diverted to all sorts of private accounts. So, I put to you, Prefects, someone is drawing resources away from our control. Who could do this but one of us?’

  They stared at one another, doubtful or defiant, as the personality of each dictated.

  Moore spoke first. His purple forehead, moist with drops of perspiration and he lifted a soft square of cloth to mop the dampness from the folds of fat running in semicircles from ear to ear.

  ‘I wouldn’t know, I can ask my secretaries, who are all Colonials, by the way. Surely this is a bureaucratic issue and best left for the administration to investigate?’

  ‘You touch the heart of the matter,’ Brunan said, ‘if a rebellion occurred on Lave, would it not come from the Colonials?’

  ‘Possibly,’ Bertrum said. ‘However, such action requires organisation. If any hint of a rising occurred in Ashoria, LaveSec would deal with the situation. I think recent events attest to that.’ He looked at them all again. ‘Of course, I cannot speak for your territories.’

  ‘And who are you accusing?’ asked Delani.

  ‘I accuse no one,’ Bertrum said, ‘but, I inform you of the problem. I’m surprised the resource decline escaped your notice. If this continues, we will be forced to make difficult decisions and gradually upset the populace inch by inch, until their patience is exhausted and they rise.’

&n
bsp; Moore frowned. ‘Sounds like no rebellion I ever heard of.’

  ‘Such conflicts are not fought out by handsome warriors from holofilms,’ Bertrum replied. ‘The conspiracy is patient and has remained undetected until now. It may have gone undiscovered for much longer, but for a chance remark. What better way to gain control of Lave?’

  ‘Frankly, I don’t think such rubbish is a decent excuse to call us together,’ Delani said, ‘and I don’t like this being discussed in front of the staff.’

  Bertrum glanced around at Gramos, his aide stood in the corner. ‘Are you afraid they might be involved? Nonsense.’ A smile played on his lips at the thought. ‘Certainly, they are spies, but none are rebels. The Good Doctor would see to that.’

  ‘Do you think he knows?’ Moore asked.

  ‘I am sure of it,’ Bertrum replied.

  ‘Then what should we do?’

  ‘Turn to your own, Prefects,’ Bertrum said. ‘I plan a meticulous check of all balances and tallies going back twelve months. Every staff member in city administration will be interviewed then LaveSec operatives will go to the country and speak with the factors and primes. I would suggest you do the same.’

  ‘That might take years,’ Moore said in a shaking voice.

  ‘Then get started,’ Bertrum said, ‘before the Good Doctor begins the investigation for us.’

  * * *

  Competition Entry Winner: Why I Love the Good Doctor.

  I love Doctor Walden because he's kind and loving and takes care of all the little children. The school I go to was built by him. I've seen the picture of him on the wall of the school helping to build it. I love Doctor Walden because the school I go to gives us lunch. It is his decree that we all eat and for that my stomach is very happy and so am I.

  I love the Good Doctor because he protects all of Lave. There are bad people out there. They want to hurt us. They want to make everything that is right wrong and they want to keep all the food for themselves and build schools only for their children.