The Gathering Storm Read online

  Chapter 2

  Antigua

  Admiral White's intelligence request reached Commander Lake's office. She looked it over and then bucked it up to Captain Montgomery and Admiral Sienkov. There were several things in the ansible report, but she skipped over the good news for the bad. She wanted her people to get through that first.

  What bothered her was the request to cross-reference their dump with what they had on file. She frowned and then checked the files. When she found what she was looking for, she pursed her lips in annoyance. The latest intel dump had been sent to Second Fleet on the last courier. Only a couple gigs had been added since then.

  “Did you just send me a request for more information?” a familiar voice growled in her open doorway. She looked up in surprise as Vice Admiral Yorgi Sienkov, secretary of intelligence, came into her office. “Sit,” he ordered as she shot to her feet.

  “Yes, sir. I'm going over it now,” she said. She was surprised he'd processed it so fast. The Bekian transplant was apparently improving his skills with his implants, or he liked to get things cleared as soon as he got them. “I just found out they have most of the latest dump. I don't know why they are asking us to cross-check it.”

  "Is their intel specialist not seeing this?" Yorgi demanded.

  "I don't know, sir. They might be fishing for more detail hoping we've got it. I don't think we have more than a couple kilo bytes—nothing fresh. Or they might be overwhelmed with processing what they've got on their plate after the battle. You know, hardware, plus the prisoners."

  The admiral grunted. "Very well. Keep them posted."

  "Aye, sir."

  He started to turn to leave but then stopped and turned back. "And remind them they have an intelligence officer for such inquiries," the admiral said testily. "Let him or her dredge it up right then and there, not wait for us. They should know that."

  "Aye aye, sir." The commander grimaced. Apparently, her reasoning wasn't good enough.

  “What?” the admiral demanded.

  “I think … yes,” she said, reaching and checking the file. “First Lieutenant Kelly Guadino. She put in the request for information once before. At the time, we gave her what we had.”

  “And I'm guessing now that's changed?” the admiral asked, crossing his arms.

  The commander nodded. “Yes, sir. We're continuously updating files as we interview the enemy POWs and interrogate their databases that Second Fleet captured. We're building a picture, putting pieces in place,” she said. She frowned as she checked the files and then grimaced.

  “And they didn't get a copy?” he asked.

  “No, sir, it doesn't look like they got the latest version. Not of Admiral De Gaulte, his ships, or anything else we see apparently.”

  “CC them a copy. Find out why they didn't get it in the first place. I know oversight, but we don't need this crap.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You said picture …”

  “We're … interviewing the POWs, takes time, sir. You have to build a rapport and tease things out of them in different ways. Get them to exchange stories of their childhood, events, that sort of thing. Keep them from thinking it is an interrogation. We get more information that way.”

  The admiral nodded slowly. “I see.”

  She smiled. “Imagine what a beer or two or a bottle of whiskey can do to open someone up. Someone who's been locked up for months or years. Just being able to unwind with a sympathetic ear and a bottle of something they haven't had and ache for,” her smile turned slightly feral. “Our people are getting better and better at acting drunk. Their implants keep them sober of course; they have special dispensation to drink while on duty since it is for interrogation purposes.”

  “I see,” the admiral said slowly. “Alcohol loosens tongues. I know this.”

  “Yes, sir. And people talk among themselves too. Get them remembering the good old times back home and then listen in.”

  “So …”

  “So, I think we can help Admiral White out a little. He's fishing to see what sort of mindset his enemy has.” She left unsaid that a lot of the material had been going into background briefs for the politics of Horath and also to brief agents being inserted in that direction.

  “I wish we'd had this sooner,” the admiral growled.

  Commander Lake grimaced. “Me too, sir. Some of it is sitting in the files waiting to be verified though.”

  “Pass him everything you've got, verified or not. Make sure it's tagged with confidence levels and confirmations but strip out any sources. Let the lieutenant make the assessment on her end.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “And remind the lieutenant to keep following up more often if she doesn't get the results she expected,” the admiral said.

  Commander Lake nodded. She wisely didn't point out that the current request the admiral had just grumbled about was a follow-up.

  “Have someone build a psychological profile of the enemy commanders—staff, etc., history, all of it. Amadeus is right; he needs to know the enemy. We need to know him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I know you've got profiles on this Emperor Ramichov and the known power players, but from Amadeus's perspective, the profile of De Gaulte is far more important. The same for anyone who might take his place.”

  Commander Lake nodded as she made a note. “We'll get it done, sir.” She looked down as Fletcher blinked something for her attention. “Um, sir, Lieutenant Fletcher has just flagged something of importance.” Her eyebrows raised in surprise as she jacked in and then opened it on her HUD. “Son of … well, an emperor,” she murmured with a grin.

  “I take it that's good?” Admiral Sienkov asked dubiously.

  “You could say that. Two of them, sir.”

  “Two?” He shook his head in annoyance. “Not following, Commander.

  “Sorry, sir. It's just …”

  :::{)(}:::

  “So, what can you give me? All this coverage of the war front is getting stale,” April O'Neill murmured as one of her hands stroked up and down his left arm. The VID screens in the room were showing a simulated sunrise. It was a pity it wasn't the real thing; the warmth of the glow would have been nice to feel. Not that they didn't have enough warmth between them.

  “So, what am I, your source now?” John Irons asked as he laid next to her in the tangled sheets. April was a reporter through and through he knew. But they'd talked about using their relationship like that. He was the president of the Federation and a fleet admiral.

  “More than that,” she said, turning on her husky seductive voice as she rolled on top of him. Her green eyes twinkled at him. “I bet I can get something out of you,” she said wickedly.

  “Wait, um …,” his voice was cut off as her hand dropped down to play with some rather delicate instruments.

  “Yes?” she purred, smirking at him. After a moment, she began to kiss his chin and jaw and then neck.

  “Um …”

  She eased up a little as she nibbled on his ear.

  “You are an evil, wicked creature, you know that?” he demanded.

  She giggled at the taunt but didn't deny it.

  “So?” she asked as her other hand stroked his chest. “Better give me what I want or I'll torture you.”

  “Yeah, right,” he murmured as Protector's icon blinked. He wondered why and then remembered the word torture probably triggered his protection systems. He flicked his hand. “Two can play at that game, lady,” he murmured, caressing her backside.

  “I'll make you late,” she teased as Protector silently brought up his reminder of his schedule on his HUD.

  “Um …,” he squirmed a bit. She gripped him hard enough to make him freeze. “Now that's not fair,” he gasped.

  “All's fair in love and war,” she teased in his ear. “So? Give,” she growled, as her free hand went from stroking to digging into his ribs.

  “Okay, okay … I guess I can tell you about some prisoners, but
it is strictly off the record for now. Don't go scooping it. We've been sitting on the news for a little bit …”

  :::{)(}:::

  April grinned at Irma and her staff as she came in to the office swinging her purse.

  “You sure look chipper,” the mousy woman accused.

  “I am.”

  “And why is that?” the other woman asked as she adjusted her sweater and glasses. The glasses were props; they were actually HUDs that fed Irma a constant flow of information. She could and did have civilian implants but preferred to have her data projected onto her glasses.

  “I got a scoop. We're going to need to move fast to get confirmation. If I know John, he'll dump it in a day or so. I want the credit for getting it out there though,” April growled as Irma's eyes widened.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. It's a good one,” April replied with a grin as she pulled her staff into her office with a swirling motion of her hand over her head.

  “You aren't afraid of ticking him off?”

  “No, he'll get over it. Besides, I'll chalk it up to unconfirmed sources and only let them know who if pressed,” April said indifferently as she pulled her staff together to lay out the story.

  :::{)(}:::

  The administration's Neocat Press Secretary Miss Liobat was ambushed by a Knox News reporter with questions about the Ramichov capture and death in the next morning briefing. She did her best to put the question off. “I can't comment on something I personally haven't been released to talk to you about. There is a legal question I need to resolve first.”

  “And that is?” a Veraxin reporter demanded.

  “I don't know if it is legal to release the names of POWs or of the dead. I also don't know if that information is classified.”

  “You've pretty much just confirmed everything,” the reporter said. “Why not come out with it?”

  “Because …” she paused and cocked her head as her implants reported a fresh priority file. “I'm getting a file,” she said in the pregnant pause. She opened it. The directive from the president was short. It confirmed it.

  “Okay, this just in from the president, he is authorizing me to confirm Prince Adam Ramichov, commander and XO of the battle cruiser Archangel was killed in the battle of B-95a3 when his ship was destroyed. The prince's brother, Mason Ramichov, lieutenant in their Marines is in custody,” she said as the room erupted in furious questions.

  After the press conference, she tracked the admiral down in his office and scolded him about the leak. “I know you leaked it to your girlfriend, sir. That is not the proper way to do things. And letting me get ambushed like that …”

  “I admit, I slipped. I didn't know she'd rush it out like that. She must have had other confirmation,” Irons said with a shake of his head. “I'm sorry you got caught out; it slipped my mind to warn you. It was going to leak eventually. This kept her happy.”

  “Yes, sir. But, release of POW names is …”

  “He's far more than a normal POW. Yes, he's a figure, a political figure. It's a morale boost for our side and a hit to their side when they get word. We're not going to trot him out for the media. We're releasing his name. You can release the names of other captured enemy personnel later in the week or next week.”

  “You mean dump it in the trash?” she asked. What she was asking was release it on a Friday, the day many called trash day since it would be ignored by people looking forward to the weekend.

  “Use your own good judgment.”

  “Well, at least one of us is, sir,” she said, eyeing him.

  “Still not ready to let me off the hook on that?”

  “I will. Eventually.”

  “Right. Remember, I don't sleep with you. One sulking female in my life is enough for the moment.”

  “Ah. I see,” she said in a different tone as she flicked her ears at him.

  “Get out of here,” he mock growled as he flicked his hand in dismissal.

  :::{)(}:::

  “April, I specifically told you that Ramichov thing was not for public consumption,” Irons growled into her voicemail. He was not amused that she'd shunted him to her voicemail. That meant she was avoiding him. Most likely because she knew he was annoyed and wanted him to vent.

  He knew how the game was played though. He had to keep his tone down or she'd use that against him later. He shook his head. “If I can't trust you to keep some things confidential, I won't tell you anymore no matter what you do to try to get it out of me. I'm not one of your sources, we've been over this.” He frowned as Captain Sprite got his attention. “I've got to go,” he said as he closed the channel.

  “Trouble on the home front?” the A.I. asked.

  “No, just pro forma.”

  The A.I. avatar's eyes narrowed. “You did leak that deliberately,” she accused.

  He snorted. “Of course. I told her it was between us though. I even enjoyed how she got it out of me too,” he said with a wide grin.

  Sprite rolled her eyes. “I bet,” she said in a droll voice as she pointed to his inbox. “Well, if you can spare a moment from your games, we've got business to attend to,” she said.

  “Oh, very well,” he mock sighed.

  “Admiral Sienkov has put in for another delay.”

  “What now?” he asked, amusement forgotten.

  “He's going over the data from the latest battle and correlating it with what we already know. Plus, the windfall from the capture of a Ramichov. That's his reasoning,” the A.I. reported.

  “I note he told you but not me,” Admiral Irons drawled.

  “He's running out of excuses. But, then again, he is an admiral and a cabinet member. He does have a point about it not being good to be out of contact for the length of time required.”

  The admiral grimaced. Yorgi had a point but he knew it wasn't the entire story. Bek was turning into a snake pit, worse than Pyrax. Now that Ilmarinen was in B-102c and Horatio was in contact with him through the ansible, he was getting an earful and didn't like it.

  “I think his explanation that he, he being Admiral Sienkov, won't be as useful as you want is valid, Admiral. I've gone over what Commodore Logan has sent. It's a political nightmare. This Admiral Childress is trouble.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I strongly suggest you sit down with Admiral Sienkov and talk about it. I also suggest you do something soon.”

  “I hate to relieve a man without seeing what he's done for myself. But, Horatio's report is pretty damning. The man can come up with any excuse he wants, but it boils down to the fact that he hasn't done anything I've ordered him to do—not the implants, the updates, the tech transfers, nor the yard. Nothing.”

  “And his interference and treatment of Horatio and the other officers sent there …,” Sprite said with a shake of her head.

  “Agreed.”

  “So, what do you want to do?”

  “I want to send Horatio back in there and relieve Childress.”

  “Are you sure about sending him back into the proverbial lion's den? It didn't work so well the first time.”

  “I know. But, I'm going to do something about his rank.”

  “The flag promotions are coming up,” Sprite said as her avatar's eyes narrowed. “You are planning on bumping him?”

  “Yes. Tomorrow we're debating Phil. Amadeus pretty much has a lock on his promotion. I think I can slip Horatio in. Give him a bump. I'll dictate a message with my codes to relieve Childress. I hate to do it though. We'll need to shake up their chain of command to find someone willing to play ball with us.”

  “I strongly urge you to sit down with Admiral Sienkov and Miss Sema, sir. They are native Bekians; they know the players, or did.”

  “Agreed,” he sighed.

  :::{)(}:::

  “Thank you for coming to see me,” Admiral Irons said as Yorgi entered his office.

  Admiral Sienkov smiled. He'd managed to put it off for a bit, even attending his duty on the promotions board virtually. He k
new he couldn't put off a face-to-face meeting for long. When Captain Sprite had made it clear he had to be in the admiral's office, he'd more or less battened down the hatches for a rough blow. “When an admiral or the president says at your earliest convenience you move mountains or at least schedules to get it done right away,” Yorgi said as they shook hands. When they disengaged, Admiral Irons indicated they should sit with a wave of his hand.

  “And yes, I have problems getting you back to Bek,” Admiral Irons said. Admiral Sienkov slowed as he sat and then stilled. “I'm figuring out a little bit about why. You talked a little bit about Bek but not enough. In fact, most of the people who have come back with you haven't talked much about the Republic. It's like dragging teeth out of you. That has to stop.”

  “I … see, sir.”

  “Level with me, Yorgi,” the admiral said, eyeing the other flag officer. “What gives?”

  “I have to admit, I like it here. It is refreshing. I wasn't lying when I said that I don't think a cabinet minister should be MIA for that length of time,” Yorgi hedged.

  “But, that isn't your only reasoning,” the admiral accused.

  “No, sir. Bek is … a snake pit. Here is clean so far. Oh, there are some issues, and people are starting to get cute, but it's like elementary school stuff compared to Bek. There it is cutthroat. Sometimes literally.”

  “Oh?”

  “I didn't know you weren't aware of the political situation there.”

  “I can't know what people don't tell me.”

  “I see that now. Basically, there are three, no, four sides,” Yorgi explained as he finished settling himself. He held up four fingers. “The first is the civilian government. They can be rough, but they are in the public eye.”

  The admiral nodded.

  “The service people are next, but it's complicated. Service is mandatory in some quarters. It is also a point of pride, and for many, a means to further their own ambitions while also protecting the Republic. No one ever saw the defense as being necessary after the first century, so things changed there.” Admiral Irons cocked his head but then nodded slowly. “Personnel from the service who finish their tour go on to civilian practice as you know. Some get into basic stuff, medicine, law, what have you. Others get into industry. I read about some of the missives back during the Federation. I mean the old Federation. Stuff about officers who retire to cushy jobs in civilian service.”