Turnabout & Temerity, page 5
Clarke hesitated a moment. Much of the anger had faded from his face, leaving only a stern, calculating stare. “I am familiar with the major, yes.”
Meredessi bowed her head. “Excellent. The major sent us here to rule out Agent Siddig of wrongdoing in our investigation. I am not authorized to release any further information, but I can assure you we had no part in his arrest and detainment and have no accusations or charges against him. He is released. Should you need more information, I would recommend you speak to the major directly,” Meredessi said, tipping her head.
Clarke let his eyes linger on Lieutenant Meredessi for a moment before turning to Julian. “No more talking. This entire conversation is illegal and I will see that everything said is stricken from all records.” He turned to the two 5E commandos at the door. “Stick to Agent Siddig. He is not to leave your sight until we’ve secured him outside of Navy jurisdictions.” He turned back to the two lieutenants. “The major will be hearing from me.”
Julian started toward the door, but turned and took a step towards Yadav and Meredessi, leaning close and whispering. “If you want to talk about the issue with your ship, let me know. I believe I can be of some assistance.”
Yadav maintained eye contact, but did not otherwise acknowledge his statement. Julian shrugged and followed the group out of the room. Standing by an elevator at the end of the hall was a single member of Renic’s staff, a young woman in one of the unmarked blue uniforms. Julian recognized her; it was former 5E Agent Tess Millinson, a recent 5E recruit who had been lured away by the hefty promotion offered by Renic’s new division.
Clarke leaned toward Millinson as he passed, voice just soft enough for Julian to hear. “He’s not going to be happy with you. Take measures to protect yourself.”
“Director, I was complying with all Imperium guidelines regarding our organization’s collaboration. Commander Tau can lodge his complaints with the fleet marshal if he does not want his operatives to obey navy rules and regulations,” Millinson said, voice conspicuously stable.
Clarke gave Millinson a single nod; Julian gave her a look of gratitude. As they entered the elevator to freedom, Julian could see the silhouettes of the two OS-9 lieutenants exiting the cell. He stole a glance at Clarke; the director’s eyes were fixed on them.
Renic glanced down at his comm. He smirked; Clarke had taken longer than expected. The old man must be overwhelmed with his agency's failure to make any meaningful progress after Starview Station. Hopefully, he had received the message—Renic could still hurt him should he interfere. Clarke cared about his agent’s well-being, and that meant he’d expose himself in order to protect them. The better strategy would have been for Clarke to leave Julian to the fate of the cell’s white void. But now, Renic had them both on the defensive, and OS-9 was another factor Clarke would have to deal with. It was just the kind of diversion Renic needed for a few more days.
The doors to the fleet marshal’s private office on the Terminus slid open, a pair of honor guard stepping through with Gallow himself only a few steps behind. After Renic had exited Major Drake’s Indigo staff meeting, it had taken him a few creatively embellished tales of urgency to learn Gallow’s schedule from his aides. When he finally did, he was told the time it took the fleet marshal to walk from his offices to his private elevator that led directly to the Terminus’s bridge was all the time he would have, otherwise the fleet marshal was booked solid. Renic could not risk Gallow refusing him an audience. His only choice was to ambush the fleet marshal and make it look like, due to Drake’s staff meeting, Renic was just in the neighborhood and was happy to sneak into the only gap of time available.
Gallow did not slow his pace, causing Renic to double-time to keep up with the taller man. “Make it fast, Commander.”
“Yes, sir. I have an actionable lead regarding the Dauntless. I believe I can retrieve the information we need as well as cauterize an open end on Senali.” Renic eyed the honor guard; he presumed that anything he could say to Gallow he could say in front of them, though he strongly wished for a private audience.
Gallow cast a sidelong glance at Renic, the corner of his mouth curling. “Senali? The Fringe? Commander, you are required on Kestris. Any threat the Red Kestrels pose will soon be made irrelevant. Your chance to produce the Dauntless has passed.”
Renic suppressed his scoff of disgust. Instead, he nodded in acknowledgement, buying himself a precious second to prepare his rebuttal. He had to get to Senali. That was where Samantha must be going next. Eddie Renner had divulged enough that Renic was all but certain that Kat Basara was Samantha’s next target. He had to get there.
“Understood, but my ship can make it from Kestris to Senali and back before–”
Gallow stopped, his honor guard taking another few steps before noticing and shuffling back. Gallow scowled at Renic. “Do you forget your place? You carry out the tasks you are given, nothing more.” Gallow broke eye contact and continued his march forward. “You are dismissed.”
A flush of rage burned on Renic’s cheeks. He remained standing in the corridor, knowing there was nothing left he could say to change Gallow’s mind. Why the Dauntless was suddenly no longer of interest to Gallow, Renic had no idea. But that meant Renic did not have the complete picture and that Gallow was no longer keeping him informed of the ultimate plan. This was dangerous.
The elevator doors opened at the end of the corridor, and the honor guard entered, followed by Gallow. The fleet marshal turned, his eyes locked with Renic’s until the doors slid closed.
Renic looked to his comm. He tapped one of the buttons on the curved glass display, sending a pre-configured request to the captain of his ship to prepare for interstellar travel. It was the ship Gallow had granted him unrestricted use of to carry out the tasks that were never to be spoken of, a ship that was unable to be monitored or tracked.
Not even by Gallow.
The doors to Clarke’s office in 5E headquarters slid shut, the same pair of armed 5E guards having escorted them the entire way remained outside. Julian eased himself down into one of the chairs facing Clarke’s desk, grateful for the comparatively ample padding to the cell’s built-in bench.
“That was a terribly unpleasant experience,” Julian said, feeling the tension of the past day and a half ease, replaced by the inevitable comedown shock. Clarke circled around behind the desk, leaning against the wall and folding his arms.
“It was my fault for taunting him. Renic wanted to hurt me, and he used you to do it. He probably never intended to question you.” Clarke huffed, eyes narrowing. “I hope Drake realizes who he’s dealing with.”
Julian sighed, contemplating the statement. “Indeed, sir. I did get the impression that this detour was not a part of OS-9’s plan. They appeared to be more concerned with due-diligence. Renic must have presented quite the story for OS-9 to take the allegations as seriously as they did.”
Clarke grimaced, flipping which arm was folded atop the other. “I know Major Drake. I can try reaching out to him as a professional courtesy. I have a hard time believing, though, that Renic makes many friends anywhere he goes.”
“I do not think Drake and his subordinates are blind to the situation. They seemed aware of the possibility that a Navy asset aboard the Terminus has been compromised. Though, they were genuinely surprised when I seemed to know something about that as well,” Julian said as he absentmindedly rubbed the spot on his chest where the stun baton had hit him.
Clarke’s mouth pressed into a thin line, eyes focused on something only he could see. “Agent Siddig, there’s something else. Now… I don’t want to drag you right back into work after having been assaulted like you were, but I need to ask about the last task I gave you,” Clarke said.
Julian blanked for a moment, completely unsure of what the director was referring to. He walked his memory backward, through the interview, into his imagined library, into the white void, into… his office across the capital compound.
“Ah, yes. The sleeper activation protocol. It was accomplished, and not a moment too soon. I do not believe the one-time pad had even cleared the vaporizer before I was so rudely interrupted.”
Clarke stepped away from the wall and paced across the office, looking out the armored steelglass window that overlooked the plaza below. “Good work. I think we may have an interesting advantage on our hands.”
Julian tilted his head. “This is about the sleeper?”
Clarke clasped his hands behind his back, looking over his shoulder to Julian. “Yes. It’s not something I could have planned, but the sleeper was in the room with you.”
Julian closed his eyes and thought for a moment. “Oh, yes, I see it. Lieutenant Meredessi, of course. Her detached scrutiny makes sense. She was having to protect both sides of the situation.” He nodded in approval, reaching up to grab the pencil behind his ear, only to find it wasn’t there and awkwardly letting his hand fall back to his lap.
Clarke narrowed his eyes. “And your summation of this situation is what exactly?”
Julian raised his eyebrows, inhaling deeply. “Well, Agent Qin Meredessi is an intelligence compromise herself, officially investigating the source of the Terminus compromise that is collaborating with the Red Kestrels, and Renic, whose inexplicable promotion and proximity to the Terminus, fleet marshal, and untold levels of elevated security access, is trying to turn OS-9 onto the trail of our rogue agent Samantha, drawing attention away from himself and hurting us by setting her up as the Terminus’s compromise, all while she is out there trying to pick up a trail, which, I will not hesitate to say, likely leads right back to Renic himself as he continues to be the only person who can link all these occurrences together,” Julian smiled. “I hope you’re keeping track of this.”
Clarke grunted, turning back to the window. “I am guessing Agent Meredessi was as surprised to see me barge through that door as I was to see her, but she kept her cover. If we use her proximity carefully, we may be able to get out in front of this for the first time and use Renic’s attempts to pollute the investigation to our advantage.”
Julian raised a finger. “Sir, if I can state the obvious.”
“It’s your gift.”
Julian bowed his head. “Thank you, sir. If Renic is trying to pollute—as you put it—the OS-9 investigation by provoking them into following false leads, it is plausible he is trying to deflect his own actions on to someone similar enough to fit the story. Most of what he is saying about Samantha could be said about himself. The access, the history, the flouting of rules and allegiances…” Julian raised his eyebrows.
Clarke nodded, finishing the sentiment. “If we’re fitting people to a profile, Renic is likely a part of the Terminus compromise and one of the insiders working with the Kestrels. He’s taken his own story and is trying to flip it onto Samantha, and us sending her rogue into the sector set her up to almost fit exactly what he needed.”
Julian stood, joining Clarke at the window. “Yes. An unfortunate series of coincidences.”
Clarke shook his head. “And coincidences won’t help us. We’ve got no evidence on Renic and can’t risk taking a shot at him and missing. I do not doubt for a moment that Renic is compromised in more ways than one, but there’s nothing solid that actually links him to anything. And if there were, he’s still only an errand-runner. Who is giving him the orders? Gallow?” Clarke brought a hand up to his face, rubbing his eyes. Julian could see the director’s forehead tighten. Clarke brought his hand down in a swift motion, words drenched in anger. “If Gallow is orchestrating all this, he’s not just pulling the strings of this puppet-show, he owns the whole damned theater. The scope of what we’re up against is only growing, any weak point we could attack vanishing before we have a chance to exploit it.”
Julian shrugged. “Perhaps, but Renic has exposed his intentions and invited outside scrutiny into the fleet marshal’s realm that, without his personal fixation, would not have occurred. If Renic is unwilling to recognize that this obsession jeopardizes whatever he is being asked to do, Samantha can be a lure, forcing him to act against the integrity of the, as you put it, puppet-master’s wishes.”
Clarke exhaled, forehead wrinkled in a rare state of surprise. “You’re not suggesting we use Samantha to draw Renic out into the open?”
Julian held up a forestalling hand. “No. But, if Renic is fixated on her, Samantha will still be a target. We know Renic has put OS-9 on her trail, and it is clear the lengths he is willing to go in order to pursue her. If we can warn Samantha, she can evade both Renic and OS-9 more effectively. If not, well… we have essentially sent her into a sector where every encounter she has is now a potential ambush. And right now, she does not know it.”
Clarke grimaced, turning and pacing back across the office. He turned, one arm folded, the other pointing a finger back at Julian. “If we contact her, that’s proof-positive of our involvement with her after the section-42. We’re implicated, and there’s no coming back from that once Renic uses it against us. If caught, we’re given life sentences or executed and hung up as the perpetrators of the Red Kestrel collusion, releasing Renic, Gallow, and whoever else from any suspicion.”
Julian thought for a moment, cataloging every potential avenue. He had done a good job when he had cut Samantha off from the Imperium. Almost too good. He recounted everything they had done and spoken about since the return from Senali. The computer he had given her was of no use—it truly was inaccessible. But that was not all he gave her, not yet at least.
Julian paced across the room toward Clarke. “Sir, there may be a way to avoid contacting her, but still get her a message.”
“Elaborate,” Clarke said, raising an eyebrow.
Julian paced back to the window. “In keeping with the trend of layering deception on top of deception, there is a little—call it a ‘detail’—that I have left out in our conversations around this mission. May I, sir, decompartmentalize something I think can help?”
Clarke’s eyes narrowed. “Siddig…”
Julian took that as an affirmative. “Sir, I could not send her out completely without assistance. So, while I was preparing the mission assets we provided before her departure, I also arranged to have a collection of operations equipment—a tacsuit, visor, her preferred 5E weapons and tech—deposited on Senali in a civilian shipping facility. Delivery was confirmed. It is there waiting for her to retrieve it.”
“Damn it, Julian,” Clarke exclaimed, planting his fists on his hips. “So you did know where she would end up. Imagine if Renic had gotten that out of you?”
“Yes, Director. It was a calculated risk. I believed the chances for the overall success of this mission would be increased enough to counterbalance the risks, including disobeying your orders.” Julian raised a finger. “I will point out that in this case, chance tipped in our favor. A battlefield decision, if you will.”
Clarke glowered. “Have you ever been in a battle, Agent Siddig? I don’t mean a few stray bolts or a botched mission. I’m talking ground infantry. Capital ships. Watching what happens when someone makes a bad call and dozens, hundreds, thousands die because of it?”
Julian cleared his throat, finding a blank patch of floor to stare at. “Well… no, sir. I mostly sit in a chair and say things into an earpiece while hacking into computer systems,” Julian said. He was not about to compare being a controller to actual fighting, not to Clarke.
The director glared at Julian. “What is your idea on how to leverage this ill-advised insurance plan you left for her?”
Julian nodded, eager to get past his blatant insubordination. “We have no way to contact Samantha directly, the computer I sent with her is truly blind. But I believe I can connect with the tacsuit’s communication array. I can send it information that she will receive the first time she activates it, or if she already has, the next time she connects the suit’s onboard computer to any public system network.”
“You’re betting on her actually going to Senali, retrieving the suit, and doing any of this before potentially being ambushed. That’s a brittle assumption,” Clarke said.
“It’s the best we have. When she left Kestris, reaching Senali and locating Kat Basara was her first mission objective. With the escalation of the Starview Station attack, I believe that Samantha would now feel only more certain that Basara will have the answers she, and the rest of us, need.”
Clarke paced again, exchanging office sides with Julian. “I don’t like us knowing this. Compartmentalization is now broken. We both know where she’s headed.”
Julian shrugged, again reaching for the non-existent pencil, and again dropping his hand. “Sir, the situation and mission have changed in the last week since she left. We need to do what makes sense, and leaving her open to Renic or OS-9 is irresponsible of us.” Julian straightened his back, meeting Clarke’s eyes squarely. “Pardon the critique of our tactics, sir, but it is time to adapt the plan.”
Clarke gave a single, wry laugh. “Battlefield decision,” he muttered. “You know, Julian, there’s a saying that goes back to what is probably the beginning of war itself. ‘All plans fail. Some plans have merit.’” Clarke stalked back to the window, staring across to the capitol building in the distance. “Set it up, but not from here. Or your office—any of them. Find someplace new and don’t tell me or anyone else. If it weren’t for the optics of it, I’d send you out into the sector at this point as well.”
Julian bowed. “Yes, sir. I only need to stop by my office and grab my pencil and one of my backup computers. I do not believe Renic will be returning my property,” Julian turned and walked to the door, then stopped. “Actually, Director, I had a lot of time to think recently, and I believe there is something else we could provide her that is a little more… versatile. But, it will require your active participation in falsifying requests, records, and tampering with quite a trail of digital touchpoints to pull off. You would be, respectfully, entering into a series of compromising circumstances that you may not have been previously comfortable entering.”
