[nano] Corsair
Nov. 23rd, 2009 08:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeAll right. Back to this. Also, I need icons. Also, holy shit I left off on page 49 of 84. Oi. Also, um. Something. I need icons. Possibly of Valerie/Ran, or ... well, those are the only two I have cast, so hey.
Anyway. More.
"I'll be in my office."
No one asked. No one blinked. No one looked around beyond the moment it took to nod and register her presence, acknowledge it, and get back to their work. Valerie moved into the tiny office adjoining the bridge and sat down, trying not to punch anything.
Corporate police. Corporate court.
The biggest problem she had with the corporate court is that they weren't interested in justice. They weren't interested in fair and balance except as it applied to a balanced set of books, and preferably one that wasn't identifiable as doctored. They were interested in punitive damages, remuneration and recompense, equal columns and a good tally. They weren't interested in human beings. They weren't interested in keeping people safe except that safe and healthy employees, satisfied employees, was good for their bottom line.
It was a theoretically good system. If they did everything to protect their bottom line they would do everything to keep their people safe and happy. The problems cropped up when people decided that what they needed to be safe and happy was money, and the bigger corporations had more of that than the smaller. They had the luxury of buying off problems, setting that precedent, solving things by throwing cash at them. Whether the them was a person, a group of people, a grieving family, or a smaller company.
Valerie tapped her fingers against the desk, over the keys. Over the soft glass paneling. They were putting this to corporate court because it was in international space, it was incorporated ships, it was corporate jurisdiction and neither nation host to either corporation wanted to get involved in a simple pirate assault. Or that was the theory, anyway.
She made the call by stabbing her fingertip onto each key and slamming her palm onto the screen activation. Right now she wasn't feeling kindly disposed towards anyone in the company arena higher than her, even if her boss until now had been most excellent.
It took several minutes before he sat down in front of the screen. "Captain Reynolds." To his credit he looked directly into the camera, didn't shy away or shuffle papers or in any way try to avoid giving her his full attention. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you." She took a breath. Better have out with it at once, get it over with. "I hear the company is taking this to the corporate police."
He sighed; she couldn't tell if that was because he had anticipated this conversation or because he disagreed with the decision. "They are. This isn't my decision, Valerie…" And the moment he said that she knew she wouldn't change his mind. "This is a company decision. This is company policy, actually," he added. "The only reason it's never come up now is because we haven't had that many pirate attacks lately."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Lately? This has happened before?"
"You may be too young to remember, but, yes. There was a time not so long ago when pirate attacks were more the rule than the exception, and courier companies spent a fortune on defense, both weapons and personnel."
Valerie blinked. Leaned forward a little, hands clasped under the desk. That hadn't been what she had expected, although she didn't know if it was germane to the current issue, either. "That was then, Patrick. This is now." It sounded cliché even to her, and her fingers clenched around each other out of his sight, out of sight of the camera. "This shouldn't be happening. We're supposed to be safe, that's what …" she wasn't sure how to put it. Except that space was supposed to be safe, at least from human interference.
"Supposed to be," he acknowledged. Admitted. Something to that effect, his salt and pepper head bowed and revealing its growing bald spot. He didn't feel good about this either, she decided.
"Let me talk to Jürgen."
His eyes widened. "Valerie, you can't…"
"You know I can. I don't ask for this often enough that he can deny me out of hand, and this concerns the security of his ships. This concerns the lives of the people of this company, and I have a right to pass my complaint up the chain of command if I feel it isn't being properly addressed." She did feel bad about that. It would go on Patrick's record, and it wouldn't look good. But she didn't think he was willing to push the issue like she wanted to.
Ignoring, of course, that the reason she wanted to push the issue had nothing to do with company interests or welfare.
He sighed. "Hold on, Captain Reynolds."
Valerie dropped her head while the hold screen turned the company logo on its axis. She hadn't made any friends like this, and she probably had been harsher to Patrick than he deserved. But she wanted answers.
Put that way it made her sound like a petulant five year old child up past her bedtime. Maybe she wasn't right to demand answers, here. Maybe she should go along with the company policy. It was there for a reason. They weren't a large corporation, mid-sized, maybe. But they weren't that big. They weren't the kind of corporation that would play hell with employee's lives, and if they didn't want to investigate on their own it was probably because they didn't have the resources and…
Jürgen was on screen. She looked up and winced when she saw how long he had been sitting there. "Apologies, Mr. Messerschmidt. It's been a long day." Day? Past couple of days? She could no longer recall immediately how long it had been, and that disturbed her.
"It's all right, Captain Reynolds. Under the circumstances I would be questioning your state of mind if you weren't a little exhausted." Which was probably his way of reassuring her that everything was perfectly normal and the company expected people to be erratic over the next few days. She wondered if he would blame this on grief, her being expected to be erratic. It wasn't grief talking. She knew that. So she told herself.
A slow, deep breath later and she launched into her reasoning. "I have doubts about the ability of the corporate courts to handle this investigation. More specifically, I have doubts about their inclination…"
That was the wrong approach to take. She'd forgotten that he had at least one relative either by blood or by marriage, and it didn't practically matter, on the corporate courts. High placed, by the rumor, though she didn't know specifically.
"Go on?" He leaned forward, the shadows hollowing out his cheekbones and giving him an even more cadaverous appearance. He was pushing into the latter half of his second century, which was impressive all on its own without taking into account his active role in the company.
And she didn't want to give away what she had heard during the executions and what she had learned from that hearing. She didn't want to talk about the executions at all.
"I have doubts that the corporate court is interested in a single pirate attack," she modified her argument as best she could. "Not if it's only an anomaly on the outer lanes. We're remote, there are risks, we understand that." And now he did lean back a little, some of the light and color and humor coming back into his expression. She'd put it in terms of profit and bottom line, not stereotype and tabloid images of the corporate court as cold-hearted bastards. She should have done that the first time.
"But I have my suspicions about where these pirates came from. They attacked couriers and took prisoners, they didn't raid the storage facilities or take any materials. They looked for prisoners, and we have no one on board worth a ransom." She didn't know if he knew her cargo or passenger manifest off the top of his head, and she hoped he didn't. A Mentalist might not be worth the ransom but the information the Tommies carried could be priceless. That was the whole point of their existence.
"You think this is the beginning of a different trend, not just pirates." He frowned, considering her words. "You think…"
"Slavers? Maybe, maybe a political group, maybe something else, I don't know. But I know they didn't act like pirates…" and she cut it off there because she actually had very little experience with space pirates, and little more with the nautical. "… and I know they were more concerned with the people and the crew than anything I might have been carrying. And if that's the case we may be looking at a higher mortality rate on ships and crew that work out here in the hinterlands…" Hinterspaces? "Than expected. Not to mention…"
"The costs involved in protecting, hazard pay, yes, I understand. And a better argument to present to the chief executive and chief financial officers, very well done, Captain Reynolds." He smiled. She didn't trust that smile, and it reminded her why she rarely contacted the higher-ups in the company. "And you think that the corporate police…"
"Are ill equipped to deal with crimes more involving people than money, yes." Now she could afford to be blunt. It was the truth. And she had explained why there would be a benefit to allowing outside interference in a corporate matter, and why she wanted them to turn it over to the actual police. "I think that the police would be better equipped and more experienced to investigate this, Mr. Messerschmidt. I truly do."
I truly do? What kind of a lame closing was that?
"Of course. I'll pass your suspicions along…"
She started to suggest that she could pass them along herself, took another look at the man's polite smile, and decided against it.
"Thank you, sir."
"Thank you, Captain, for being so frank and persistent with your suspicions." Which was both a compliment and an insult, and she wasn't sure which was the greater portion. "With luck, you have saved many lives in the future."
And then he signed off. Of course, he was an executive, no need for pleasantries like good-byes or anything like that. Patrick didn't come back on the line; Valerie figured she'd alienated him enough for one year. At the very least.
Nothing was going to come of it, of course. It was unusual enough for a Captain to insist on going above her liaison that it would be noted in her record and the records of everyone she had talked to. Maybe even her direct subordinates, like Eliot. But that would be as far as it went. No one would discuss taking it out of the corporate courts and to the international police, interstellar law enforcement. That would involve admitting that it was something more than it was. Or facing the consequences. Or complicating it in any sort of potentially costly way.
Valerie shook her head, slumping over her desk. That might be unfair to the company, which had always treated her well, it was true. It might also not be unfair but the cold, hard fact that the company was interested in the bottom line, that might be true as well. And neither of it did her any good. She'd done the limit of what she could and now she would have to find some way to live with that while she went on, did her job, and was a good and quiet little ship Captain. There was a voice sneering in her head, and she thought it was her own. Couldn't accept what had happened. Too tired to argue against any of it.
She wanted to go back to bed. She wanted to go back to bed and pull the covers over her head and pretend that none of the last couple of days had happened, and maybe it would be true when she woke up.
Instead, Valerie pushed the intercom button until it depressed enough to let her speak. "Eliot?"
"Yes, Captain?"
"Call a staff meeting. There are a few things we need to discuss." A pause, and then she pressed it again. "Make sure there's plenty of coffee."
[To: [redacted], Chief of Marketing Development, Special Operations]
CC: [redacted], Liaison to Research & Development , Special Operations; [redacted], Chief of Security, Special Operations; [redacted], Chief Financial Officer, Special Operations
Re: Re: Upcoming Release of Vega Product Line
Gentlemen,
Release of this product line may have to be delayed another six standard months. The initial operation to create the proper market for this product has not been as successful as projected, and our analysts recommend that we wait until it is determined that product secrecy has not been compromised. Cleanup operations are in effect.
The other new product lines are proceeding as scheduled, however the setback on the Vega line is such that operations will need to be accelerated to maintain the overall timeline. Profit margins are continuing to decline on existing lines, and the least profitable of those are being quietly phased out as of this memo.
Information continues to be available only on a need to know basis. Deniability has not been compromised and no one is authorized to discuss this outside of the Special Operations department. Continue to maintain confidentiality standards.
Thank you for your attention to this matter,
[redacted]
Chief of Operations
Special Operations]
She had left a few certain people out of the guest list. The personnel officer, for one, just in case they were under certain orders to report back to the company. Not that she believed the rumors; having discussed the man's assignment to her ship she had decided that he was very sweet and not all that interested in politics or anything but doing his job appropriately and well. But then again, if he wasn't at the meeting, when asked by his superiors he didn't have to lie to them, either. Her executive officer, head of engineering and head of security made up the others.
"May I go on record as saying this is a bad idea?" Eliot's voice still hadn't changed from the same tones in which he commented on her coffee a few days ago. Then again, if he had wanted to press the point that it was a bad idea, he would have done it in private.
"Duly noted," Valerie told him without looking around. "If everyone would have a seat, I need some opinions. Other than that one." She didn't have to look that time to point a finger at Eliot, who held up his hands and hadn't even opened his mouth. "That one has been registered, heard, and rejected."
The other two shifted in their seats, exchanging glances. She'd better tone it down a bit, she decided.
Actually, she had better tone it down a lot. Valerie took a breath, looked down, and made herself focus and calm down. It was easier than she'd thought, or at least, it felt that way.
"The company has decided to leave the investigation up to the corporate police. Since there was comparatively little loss of life involved…" Comparatively little. She saw the muzzle flash again, one of the old style powder projectile guns. It had made hamburger of his face. Her voice came back to her from far away, repeating the rote words she'd been told. "…and since the attempted theft concerned cargo and company property, the international police won't mind ceding jurisdiction."
Eliot sighed.
She ignored him. "I'm not satisfied that the corporate courts will handle this appropriately, nor am I satisfied that they will be impartial as far as this investigation goes." And here was the sticky part, the part that she wasn't sure how to even begin to say.
"While viewing the footage of the attack and the execution of the prisoners I… noticed things. Certain things that led me to believe that these were not your average border pirates bent on looting what likely targets happened their way. I believe they were after something specific." Or someone specific, in this case. "And given that the something is a thing even I'm not privy to, they were most likely better informed and better connected than your average border pirates."
Her head of security leaned back, hissed her breath out between her teeth. "You think this is an inside job. Or at least, that the group has a source on the inside even if they don't know what they're passing along."
Valerie nodded. "Among other things." And she thanked the powers and providences that no one had asked what she'd seen or heard that led her to this conclusion. At least as far as the footage of the execution. "They weren't looking. They were directed, they knew what they wanted and they knew where to find it. For that, they at least had to have had access to the layout of the ship as well as a cargo and passenger manifest. They had to know where we would be, where we were going, and what we would have on board at any given moment between stops."
Now she had their attention. Even if she didn't have them on board the idea yet, she had at least raised the question in their minds. Eliot had no change of expression; she'd gone over this with him before.
"You think this is an inside job," Maia said again, planting her elbows onto the table and dropping her head into her hands. Her sigh was explosive, and her voice was muffled when she finally broke everyone's tense silence. "Do you think this is a conspiracy or just a group of people who had someone…"
"I don't know." Valerie sighed too. "I don't trust the corporate court not because I think they're behind it, but because I don't think they'll push as hard as they need to, or investigate the … the right way. That doesn't mean I think there's a conspiracy, although it wouldn't surprise me if this did go up to the higher levels. But I don't have any evidence to that effect. I do know that they have more information than they should, so someone or something, somewhere, talked."
Maia looked up now, and her clear eyes were less skeptical than they had been a moment ago. An informant was easier to swallow than a conspiracy theory, and leaving open the possibility showed a willingness to investigate any avenue that provided likely evidence. It sat better with a woman who lived her life by what was empirically proven.
Ron, her chief of engineering, was looking more uncertain of himself, less sure of why he was here. She could address that next, really.
"I need to know where the ship stands. Are we prepared to continue? How bad was the damage to the umbilicus station, what damage did they do charging around the halls of my ship. And at that…" She took a breath. Didn't like this at all.
"I want to know how much better we can armor our ship. If there's any way we can prevent this from happening again, short of arming everyone in the crew and having them go around that way the whole trip out and back."
Maia winced at that. Apart from security, maybe three to five people had had any kind of regular weapons practice, at least with a firearm. The potential for catastrophe was overwhelming.
Ron looked thoughtful, nodded, and started tracing out schematics on her desk with an index finger. Valerie smiled a little as she watched him.
"I don't know how this works," and that was more to Maia, though she didn't look up from watching Ron's finger. "The most I've seen of any kind of how-to on investigation is the occasional procedural programme. But we have the security footage, and the footage they broadcasted from their ship. I'd like to go over that for possible clues, it's at least a place to start."
Both Maia and Eliot were nodding; Ron was paying attention to his schematics and only nodding to show that he'd heard. Maia worked the fingers of her right hand, her gun hand, a couple of knuckles popping. "It's a place to start. It's more than some people have. I'll go over the footage…"
"We'll go over the footage," Valerie interjected. The women looked at each other as Eliot's fingers tightened on the back of her chair. She felt his knuckles pressing into her back. The warning wasn't necessary. She didn't have the first idea how to explain to Maia or anyone who hadn't been around her and Ran how he had taught her to think critically, to analyze, to watch a person for signs of anything she might want to find out about them.
Maia nodded, deferring more to her Captain's privilege than her experience. "We'll go over the footage, see what we can see. We can also make a list of those who would have access to the kind of information they would have needed. Passenger manifest, cargo manifest, ship schematics…"
"Anyone would have access to ship schematics," Ron was looking up now, paying attention again. "This is a straight off the lot ship, there's been no modifications. They'd need to know that. I don't know if that information is on file anywhere else but the company has a record of all modifications made to ships, including…"
"… including a big fat zero if no modifications have been made, which includes the internal layout of the ship, thank you." She took a breath, let it out. It wouldn't be too hard, then, to find out where everyone was on the ship, or at least where everyone was supposed to be. It wouldn't be hard at all to pull a set of ship schematics from a sales node or some other group or place dedicated to selling or reviewing courier ships.
She scrubbed one hand over her forehead. "So, passenger manifest, cargo manifest, and the route. Plus anyone who would have access to the information stored in that Tommy's head. He was the only other one in guest quarters, whatever…" It took her just a second's worth of pause to brace herself to say it calmly and without bias. "Whatever Ran knew or might have known, or might have been carrying, we'll never know now."
Two fingers of Eliot's hand tapped her on the shoulder, warning her before he spoke. "That's not strictly true. He left a series of files in the ship's node before the attack. In point of fact he left it shortly after he arrived on board, with instructions to turn them over to you if anything should happen."
Everyone stared at him now, and Valerie felt her face go flush with heat, briefly grateful that her complexion didn't allow for much reddening. Her eyes were wide, she knew, with shock and hurt and likely anger.
"If anything should happen? He knew that something was going to happen, and…"
And he hadn't told her. That was the part that stung, the part that she shouldn't take out on Eliot even though she now wanted to rise and yell and demand an answer from someone, how could he not tell her? How could he not tell her that something was going on when he had known that something was going to happen. And now she didn't even know what he had known and he was dead and she couldn't ask him.
Everyone was staring at her, now. She forced her shoulders back and her head up, took a deep breath, then another. "We'll have to take a look at those files, then. If it has to do with what he was carrying, these people might have been targeting that as well."
Which brought up another point, or at least, it did for Maia. "Do you think the Mentalist will give up his information, what he's carrying?"
"I doubt it," Valerie snorted. "I've dealt with them before. Tommys don't give up information, they take their vows very seriously, and I can't blame them. It's why they're trusted, it's the oaths they take. He won't give up his information, but … I guess there's no harm in asking."
"I suppose," though Maia didn't look too hopeful.
The ship hummed through the walls, engine churning out the energy to keep the systems going, air flowing, lights thrumming. No one said anything.
"All right. We all know what we mean to do, what's going on. We might as well get started." She looked up at Eliot. "Pull the feeds, set it up in my office, we'll go over them." Over to Ron. "Get me a list of what you'll need to make the repairs, let me know what modifications you think would be best. If necessary, get the names of someone you might want to consult with if you don't feel comfortable tackling these kinds of modifications on your own." From his CV he had been a cargo ship engineer before he'd come on board the Corsair, and now that she was calmer she was thinking more critically about her crew's capabilities and how she could make them work. It would work out.
"Eliot," she looked back up over her shoulder at him. There were a few things she wanted to say, none of them suitable for this more public meeting. She had known him second-longest, for the most consistent time at least, of anyone in her life. Second-longest from Ran, that is. He had been her XO since she'd gotten her own ship. He knew Sienna. "Get me access to those files, and look over them while Maia and I look over the footage, see if there's anything relevant."
He nodded, no sign of whether or not he approved of this course of action.
"Dismissed."
Anyway. More.
"I'll be in my office."
No one asked. No one blinked. No one looked around beyond the moment it took to nod and register her presence, acknowledge it, and get back to their work. Valerie moved into the tiny office adjoining the bridge and sat down, trying not to punch anything.
Corporate police. Corporate court.
The biggest problem she had with the corporate court is that they weren't interested in justice. They weren't interested in fair and balance except as it applied to a balanced set of books, and preferably one that wasn't identifiable as doctored. They were interested in punitive damages, remuneration and recompense, equal columns and a good tally. They weren't interested in human beings. They weren't interested in keeping people safe except that safe and healthy employees, satisfied employees, was good for their bottom line.
It was a theoretically good system. If they did everything to protect their bottom line they would do everything to keep their people safe and happy. The problems cropped up when people decided that what they needed to be safe and happy was money, and the bigger corporations had more of that than the smaller. They had the luxury of buying off problems, setting that precedent, solving things by throwing cash at them. Whether the them was a person, a group of people, a grieving family, or a smaller company.
Valerie tapped her fingers against the desk, over the keys. Over the soft glass paneling. They were putting this to corporate court because it was in international space, it was incorporated ships, it was corporate jurisdiction and neither nation host to either corporation wanted to get involved in a simple pirate assault. Or that was the theory, anyway.
She made the call by stabbing her fingertip onto each key and slamming her palm onto the screen activation. Right now she wasn't feeling kindly disposed towards anyone in the company arena higher than her, even if her boss until now had been most excellent.
It took several minutes before he sat down in front of the screen. "Captain Reynolds." To his credit he looked directly into the camera, didn't shy away or shuffle papers or in any way try to avoid giving her his full attention. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you." She took a breath. Better have out with it at once, get it over with. "I hear the company is taking this to the corporate police."
He sighed; she couldn't tell if that was because he had anticipated this conversation or because he disagreed with the decision. "They are. This isn't my decision, Valerie…" And the moment he said that she knew she wouldn't change his mind. "This is a company decision. This is company policy, actually," he added. "The only reason it's never come up now is because we haven't had that many pirate attacks lately."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Lately? This has happened before?"
"You may be too young to remember, but, yes. There was a time not so long ago when pirate attacks were more the rule than the exception, and courier companies spent a fortune on defense, both weapons and personnel."
Valerie blinked. Leaned forward a little, hands clasped under the desk. That hadn't been what she had expected, although she didn't know if it was germane to the current issue, either. "That was then, Patrick. This is now." It sounded cliché even to her, and her fingers clenched around each other out of his sight, out of sight of the camera. "This shouldn't be happening. We're supposed to be safe, that's what …" she wasn't sure how to put it. Except that space was supposed to be safe, at least from human interference.
"Supposed to be," he acknowledged. Admitted. Something to that effect, his salt and pepper head bowed and revealing its growing bald spot. He didn't feel good about this either, she decided.
"Let me talk to Jürgen."
His eyes widened. "Valerie, you can't…"
"You know I can. I don't ask for this often enough that he can deny me out of hand, and this concerns the security of his ships. This concerns the lives of the people of this company, and I have a right to pass my complaint up the chain of command if I feel it isn't being properly addressed." She did feel bad about that. It would go on Patrick's record, and it wouldn't look good. But she didn't think he was willing to push the issue like she wanted to.
Ignoring, of course, that the reason she wanted to push the issue had nothing to do with company interests or welfare.
He sighed. "Hold on, Captain Reynolds."
Valerie dropped her head while the hold screen turned the company logo on its axis. She hadn't made any friends like this, and she probably had been harsher to Patrick than he deserved. But she wanted answers.
Put that way it made her sound like a petulant five year old child up past her bedtime. Maybe she wasn't right to demand answers, here. Maybe she should go along with the company policy. It was there for a reason. They weren't a large corporation, mid-sized, maybe. But they weren't that big. They weren't the kind of corporation that would play hell with employee's lives, and if they didn't want to investigate on their own it was probably because they didn't have the resources and…
Jürgen was on screen. She looked up and winced when she saw how long he had been sitting there. "Apologies, Mr. Messerschmidt. It's been a long day." Day? Past couple of days? She could no longer recall immediately how long it had been, and that disturbed her.
"It's all right, Captain Reynolds. Under the circumstances I would be questioning your state of mind if you weren't a little exhausted." Which was probably his way of reassuring her that everything was perfectly normal and the company expected people to be erratic over the next few days. She wondered if he would blame this on grief, her being expected to be erratic. It wasn't grief talking. She knew that. So she told herself.
A slow, deep breath later and she launched into her reasoning. "I have doubts about the ability of the corporate courts to handle this investigation. More specifically, I have doubts about their inclination…"
That was the wrong approach to take. She'd forgotten that he had at least one relative either by blood or by marriage, and it didn't practically matter, on the corporate courts. High placed, by the rumor, though she didn't know specifically.
"Go on?" He leaned forward, the shadows hollowing out his cheekbones and giving him an even more cadaverous appearance. He was pushing into the latter half of his second century, which was impressive all on its own without taking into account his active role in the company.
And she didn't want to give away what she had heard during the executions and what she had learned from that hearing. She didn't want to talk about the executions at all.
"I have doubts that the corporate court is interested in a single pirate attack," she modified her argument as best she could. "Not if it's only an anomaly on the outer lanes. We're remote, there are risks, we understand that." And now he did lean back a little, some of the light and color and humor coming back into his expression. She'd put it in terms of profit and bottom line, not stereotype and tabloid images of the corporate court as cold-hearted bastards. She should have done that the first time.
"But I have my suspicions about where these pirates came from. They attacked couriers and took prisoners, they didn't raid the storage facilities or take any materials. They looked for prisoners, and we have no one on board worth a ransom." She didn't know if he knew her cargo or passenger manifest off the top of his head, and she hoped he didn't. A Mentalist might not be worth the ransom but the information the Tommies carried could be priceless. That was the whole point of their existence.
"You think this is the beginning of a different trend, not just pirates." He frowned, considering her words. "You think…"
"Slavers? Maybe, maybe a political group, maybe something else, I don't know. But I know they didn't act like pirates…" and she cut it off there because she actually had very little experience with space pirates, and little more with the nautical. "… and I know they were more concerned with the people and the crew than anything I might have been carrying. And if that's the case we may be looking at a higher mortality rate on ships and crew that work out here in the hinterlands…" Hinterspaces? "Than expected. Not to mention…"
"The costs involved in protecting, hazard pay, yes, I understand. And a better argument to present to the chief executive and chief financial officers, very well done, Captain Reynolds." He smiled. She didn't trust that smile, and it reminded her why she rarely contacted the higher-ups in the company. "And you think that the corporate police…"
"Are ill equipped to deal with crimes more involving people than money, yes." Now she could afford to be blunt. It was the truth. And she had explained why there would be a benefit to allowing outside interference in a corporate matter, and why she wanted them to turn it over to the actual police. "I think that the police would be better equipped and more experienced to investigate this, Mr. Messerschmidt. I truly do."
I truly do? What kind of a lame closing was that?
"Of course. I'll pass your suspicions along…"
She started to suggest that she could pass them along herself, took another look at the man's polite smile, and decided against it.
"Thank you, sir."
"Thank you, Captain, for being so frank and persistent with your suspicions." Which was both a compliment and an insult, and she wasn't sure which was the greater portion. "With luck, you have saved many lives in the future."
And then he signed off. Of course, he was an executive, no need for pleasantries like good-byes or anything like that. Patrick didn't come back on the line; Valerie figured she'd alienated him enough for one year. At the very least.
Nothing was going to come of it, of course. It was unusual enough for a Captain to insist on going above her liaison that it would be noted in her record and the records of everyone she had talked to. Maybe even her direct subordinates, like Eliot. But that would be as far as it went. No one would discuss taking it out of the corporate courts and to the international police, interstellar law enforcement. That would involve admitting that it was something more than it was. Or facing the consequences. Or complicating it in any sort of potentially costly way.
Valerie shook her head, slumping over her desk. That might be unfair to the company, which had always treated her well, it was true. It might also not be unfair but the cold, hard fact that the company was interested in the bottom line, that might be true as well. And neither of it did her any good. She'd done the limit of what she could and now she would have to find some way to live with that while she went on, did her job, and was a good and quiet little ship Captain. There was a voice sneering in her head, and she thought it was her own. Couldn't accept what had happened. Too tired to argue against any of it.
She wanted to go back to bed. She wanted to go back to bed and pull the covers over her head and pretend that none of the last couple of days had happened, and maybe it would be true when she woke up.
Instead, Valerie pushed the intercom button until it depressed enough to let her speak. "Eliot?"
"Yes, Captain?"
"Call a staff meeting. There are a few things we need to discuss." A pause, and then she pressed it again. "Make sure there's plenty of coffee."
[To: [redacted], Chief of Marketing Development, Special Operations]
CC: [redacted], Liaison to Research & Development , Special Operations; [redacted], Chief of Security, Special Operations; [redacted], Chief Financial Officer, Special Operations
Re: Re: Upcoming Release of Vega Product Line
Gentlemen,
Release of this product line may have to be delayed another six standard months. The initial operation to create the proper market for this product has not been as successful as projected, and our analysts recommend that we wait until it is determined that product secrecy has not been compromised. Cleanup operations are in effect.
The other new product lines are proceeding as scheduled, however the setback on the Vega line is such that operations will need to be accelerated to maintain the overall timeline. Profit margins are continuing to decline on existing lines, and the least profitable of those are being quietly phased out as of this memo.
Information continues to be available only on a need to know basis. Deniability has not been compromised and no one is authorized to discuss this outside of the Special Operations department. Continue to maintain confidentiality standards.
Thank you for your attention to this matter,
[redacted]
Chief of Operations
Special Operations]
She had left a few certain people out of the guest list. The personnel officer, for one, just in case they were under certain orders to report back to the company. Not that she believed the rumors; having discussed the man's assignment to her ship she had decided that he was very sweet and not all that interested in politics or anything but doing his job appropriately and well. But then again, if he wasn't at the meeting, when asked by his superiors he didn't have to lie to them, either. Her executive officer, head of engineering and head of security made up the others.
"May I go on record as saying this is a bad idea?" Eliot's voice still hadn't changed from the same tones in which he commented on her coffee a few days ago. Then again, if he had wanted to press the point that it was a bad idea, he would have done it in private.
"Duly noted," Valerie told him without looking around. "If everyone would have a seat, I need some opinions. Other than that one." She didn't have to look that time to point a finger at Eliot, who held up his hands and hadn't even opened his mouth. "That one has been registered, heard, and rejected."
The other two shifted in their seats, exchanging glances. She'd better tone it down a bit, she decided.
Actually, she had better tone it down a lot. Valerie took a breath, looked down, and made herself focus and calm down. It was easier than she'd thought, or at least, it felt that way.
"The company has decided to leave the investigation up to the corporate police. Since there was comparatively little loss of life involved…" Comparatively little. She saw the muzzle flash again, one of the old style powder projectile guns. It had made hamburger of his face. Her voice came back to her from far away, repeating the rote words she'd been told. "…and since the attempted theft concerned cargo and company property, the international police won't mind ceding jurisdiction."
Eliot sighed.
She ignored him. "I'm not satisfied that the corporate courts will handle this appropriately, nor am I satisfied that they will be impartial as far as this investigation goes." And here was the sticky part, the part that she wasn't sure how to even begin to say.
"While viewing the footage of the attack and the execution of the prisoners I… noticed things. Certain things that led me to believe that these were not your average border pirates bent on looting what likely targets happened their way. I believe they were after something specific." Or someone specific, in this case. "And given that the something is a thing even I'm not privy to, they were most likely better informed and better connected than your average border pirates."
Her head of security leaned back, hissed her breath out between her teeth. "You think this is an inside job. Or at least, that the group has a source on the inside even if they don't know what they're passing along."
Valerie nodded. "Among other things." And she thanked the powers and providences that no one had asked what she'd seen or heard that led her to this conclusion. At least as far as the footage of the execution. "They weren't looking. They were directed, they knew what they wanted and they knew where to find it. For that, they at least had to have had access to the layout of the ship as well as a cargo and passenger manifest. They had to know where we would be, where we were going, and what we would have on board at any given moment between stops."
Now she had their attention. Even if she didn't have them on board the idea yet, she had at least raised the question in their minds. Eliot had no change of expression; she'd gone over this with him before.
"You think this is an inside job," Maia said again, planting her elbows onto the table and dropping her head into her hands. Her sigh was explosive, and her voice was muffled when she finally broke everyone's tense silence. "Do you think this is a conspiracy or just a group of people who had someone…"
"I don't know." Valerie sighed too. "I don't trust the corporate court not because I think they're behind it, but because I don't think they'll push as hard as they need to, or investigate the … the right way. That doesn't mean I think there's a conspiracy, although it wouldn't surprise me if this did go up to the higher levels. But I don't have any evidence to that effect. I do know that they have more information than they should, so someone or something, somewhere, talked."
Maia looked up now, and her clear eyes were less skeptical than they had been a moment ago. An informant was easier to swallow than a conspiracy theory, and leaving open the possibility showed a willingness to investigate any avenue that provided likely evidence. It sat better with a woman who lived her life by what was empirically proven.
Ron, her chief of engineering, was looking more uncertain of himself, less sure of why he was here. She could address that next, really.
"I need to know where the ship stands. Are we prepared to continue? How bad was the damage to the umbilicus station, what damage did they do charging around the halls of my ship. And at that…" She took a breath. Didn't like this at all.
"I want to know how much better we can armor our ship. If there's any way we can prevent this from happening again, short of arming everyone in the crew and having them go around that way the whole trip out and back."
Maia winced at that. Apart from security, maybe three to five people had had any kind of regular weapons practice, at least with a firearm. The potential for catastrophe was overwhelming.
Ron looked thoughtful, nodded, and started tracing out schematics on her desk with an index finger. Valerie smiled a little as she watched him.
"I don't know how this works," and that was more to Maia, though she didn't look up from watching Ron's finger. "The most I've seen of any kind of how-to on investigation is the occasional procedural programme. But we have the security footage, and the footage they broadcasted from their ship. I'd like to go over that for possible clues, it's at least a place to start."
Both Maia and Eliot were nodding; Ron was paying attention to his schematics and only nodding to show that he'd heard. Maia worked the fingers of her right hand, her gun hand, a couple of knuckles popping. "It's a place to start. It's more than some people have. I'll go over the footage…"
"We'll go over the footage," Valerie interjected. The women looked at each other as Eliot's fingers tightened on the back of her chair. She felt his knuckles pressing into her back. The warning wasn't necessary. She didn't have the first idea how to explain to Maia or anyone who hadn't been around her and Ran how he had taught her to think critically, to analyze, to watch a person for signs of anything she might want to find out about them.
Maia nodded, deferring more to her Captain's privilege than her experience. "We'll go over the footage, see what we can see. We can also make a list of those who would have access to the kind of information they would have needed. Passenger manifest, cargo manifest, ship schematics…"
"Anyone would have access to ship schematics," Ron was looking up now, paying attention again. "This is a straight off the lot ship, there's been no modifications. They'd need to know that. I don't know if that information is on file anywhere else but the company has a record of all modifications made to ships, including…"
"… including a big fat zero if no modifications have been made, which includes the internal layout of the ship, thank you." She took a breath, let it out. It wouldn't be too hard, then, to find out where everyone was on the ship, or at least where everyone was supposed to be. It wouldn't be hard at all to pull a set of ship schematics from a sales node or some other group or place dedicated to selling or reviewing courier ships.
She scrubbed one hand over her forehead. "So, passenger manifest, cargo manifest, and the route. Plus anyone who would have access to the information stored in that Tommy's head. He was the only other one in guest quarters, whatever…" It took her just a second's worth of pause to brace herself to say it calmly and without bias. "Whatever Ran knew or might have known, or might have been carrying, we'll never know now."
Two fingers of Eliot's hand tapped her on the shoulder, warning her before he spoke. "That's not strictly true. He left a series of files in the ship's node before the attack. In point of fact he left it shortly after he arrived on board, with instructions to turn them over to you if anything should happen."
Everyone stared at him now, and Valerie felt her face go flush with heat, briefly grateful that her complexion didn't allow for much reddening. Her eyes were wide, she knew, with shock and hurt and likely anger.
"If anything should happen? He knew that something was going to happen, and…"
And he hadn't told her. That was the part that stung, the part that she shouldn't take out on Eliot even though she now wanted to rise and yell and demand an answer from someone, how could he not tell her? How could he not tell her that something was going on when he had known that something was going to happen. And now she didn't even know what he had known and he was dead and she couldn't ask him.
Everyone was staring at her, now. She forced her shoulders back and her head up, took a deep breath, then another. "We'll have to take a look at those files, then. If it has to do with what he was carrying, these people might have been targeting that as well."
Which brought up another point, or at least, it did for Maia. "Do you think the Mentalist will give up his information, what he's carrying?"
"I doubt it," Valerie snorted. "I've dealt with them before. Tommys don't give up information, they take their vows very seriously, and I can't blame them. It's why they're trusted, it's the oaths they take. He won't give up his information, but … I guess there's no harm in asking."
"I suppose," though Maia didn't look too hopeful.
The ship hummed through the walls, engine churning out the energy to keep the systems going, air flowing, lights thrumming. No one said anything.
"All right. We all know what we mean to do, what's going on. We might as well get started." She looked up at Eliot. "Pull the feeds, set it up in my office, we'll go over them." Over to Ron. "Get me a list of what you'll need to make the repairs, let me know what modifications you think would be best. If necessary, get the names of someone you might want to consult with if you don't feel comfortable tackling these kinds of modifications on your own." From his CV he had been a cargo ship engineer before he'd come on board the Corsair, and now that she was calmer she was thinking more critically about her crew's capabilities and how she could make them work. It would work out.
"Eliot," she looked back up over her shoulder at him. There were a few things she wanted to say, none of them suitable for this more public meeting. She had known him second-longest, for the most consistent time at least, of anyone in her life. Second-longest from Ran, that is. He had been her XO since she'd gotten her own ship. He knew Sienna. "Get me access to those files, and look over them while Maia and I look over the footage, see if there's anything relevant."
He nodded, no sign of whether or not he approved of this course of action.
"Dismissed."