Oh, no X-rays for those of you in the know, doc said the deltoid didn't detach. She said no more pushups or upper body work outs for 2 weeks and to ice it as much as possible to get the swelling down. (feel free to insert a joke about going to a doctor and saying, "Hey doc, it hurts when I do this! And the doctor says, well, don't do that!")
Anyway,
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 HUD's 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.
:::{)(}:::
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