By Other Means (8 page)

“And what, pray tell, do you suggest I do about it?” She asked, tired.

“Double your security detail, call off the vip tours of the Mexico,” Ruger said, “Go on the station just for meetings, then come straight back here.”

“Unacceptable.” Miram snapped, “We’re trying to broker a treaty here, you’re talking about blatantly showing them that we don’t trust the Alliance.”

“We
don’t
trust the alliance!” Ruger roared, throwing his hands up.

“That’s beside the point!”

“Ambassador,” Ruger growled, “We’re not here to join this damned alliance, this is about buying time, nothing else.”

“I know my Job, Admiral,” Miram said coldly. “and my job is to buy you all the damn time you need.”

“It’s too risky.”

*****

Sorilla watched the two go back and forth, not even slightly interested in getting into the middle of it. As far as she was concerned they were both right. The truce, the treaty, was necessary. If it weren’t, there was no way she’d have been sent to see if there was any way they could distract the Alliance.

It was cold war politics at their finest.

Two big boys who didn’t dare face each other down directly, so they started digging into each other’s friends instead. Only SOLCOM didn’t have any friends for the Alliance to dig into, and they were a lot bigger than anyone suspected until recently.

That changed the equation.

It wasn’t the old Soviet Union versus the United States, it was something completely different.

They think we’re bigger than we actually are. Bless you Admiral Brookes, you and Valkyrie might have saved us all with your sacrifice.

No, it wasn’t the Cold War, but everyone who mattered truly and honestly
believed
it was.

Unfortunately it wasn’t the US vs the USSR, no it was the United States versus Iran, Iraq, or any other third world hell hole she’d spent time in. The problem was, SOLCOM wasn’t playing the role of the superpower this time, they were the third world hell hole.

And our only advantage is that the superpower honestly thinks that it’s a fair fight, and they’re scared to throw the first punch.

That made her job all the more vital.

*****

Ambassador Desol was having none of it, and it was driving Ruger mad.

“You’re going to make yourself a walking target range, and I’m not letting that happen.” He told her flat out, “Your job isn’t…”

“Isn’t what? Isn’t to die for my world?” She cut him off with a sharp gesture of her right hand, “I serve SOLCOM, same as you. You take risks to serve, so do I. Don’t tell me how do my job, Admiral.”

Ruger grimaced, “Stop twisting my words, I didn’t mean to imply you’re any less committed than I am.”

“Good, then next time think.” She told him, “This is my job, and I’m going to do my job.”

Ruger closed his eyes, “Madame Ambassador, if you get yourself killed by some alien assassin, we’ll be at war within the week.”

“And if I don’t do my job, we’ll be at war by the end of the year,” She told him, “and you know it, Admiral.”

And there it was.

Ruger slumped, knowing that she wasn’t blowing smoke. The truce was tentative, fragile. It rested largely on the fact that no one seemed to know what the hell happened to Task Force Valkyrie and the Alliance fleet. That lack of knowledge scared the Alliance, hell it scared SOLCOM too, but the alliance had more to lose.

SOLCOM knew they were on the shit end of the stick, the Alliance only believed they were.

Finally he nodded, “Alright, fine, you’ve made your point. I still want security doubled. Aida, you go with them whenever the Admiral is in public.”

“Now hold on a minute!” Swift snapped, stepping into the fray for the first time. “Let’s be straight here,
she
isn’t qualified for this.”

Sorilla snorted.

That earned her dark looks from Swift and Ruger, but they otherwise ignored her.

“
She
is a SOCOM operative, highly decorated, and…”

“and not trained in personal protection,” Swift growled, actually cutting the Admiral off.

Sorilla pursed her lips, not quite whistling, but he had to give Swift credit for sheer balls. Either that or he was dumber than she thought he was, which she wasn’t certain was possible.

Ruger pinned him with a glare a boot camp washout would have read as a warning to shut the hell up, but Swift just ignored it entirely.

“My team is the best at what we do. We don’t need her tripping us up, screwing our operation. Protection details are delicate jobs, we’re trained for this,” Swift growled.

“He’s not wrong,” Sorilla said quietly, finally opening her mouth. “They taught me in boot camp that stopping a bullet was a bad thing.”

Ruger and Swift both shot her acid glares, but Ambassador Desol laughed outright.

“Can I take it from your decision to enter this conversation,
finally
, that you have an alternate suggestion, Major?” Miram asked.

“I’ve been made.” Sorilla said simply. “That enemy Operator, he either knows who I am or he’s almost there. They know we’re expecting trouble, no reason for me to be here otherwise, same way we know they’re expecting trouble.”

Ruger looked sharply at her, “Are you sure he recognized you?”

“He didn’t.” Sorilla said, waving to a screen on the wall.

It lit up, showing the Lucian and a pale thin humanoid whispering in his ear. The Lucian seemed uninterested at first, until the pale speaker said something that caught his attention. His eyes darted directly in Sorilla’s direction, and he stared unabashedly at her for some time.

“Whoever that speaker was, he’s the brains.” Sorilla said, “I’m guessing a behavioral specialist, but it could be anything really. I don’t think I was ever spotted clear enough for the Alliance to have a file on me, unless the Lucian has implants like mine. If he did, though, he should have recognized me himself, and we’ve never found anything that looks like implanted augmentation in any of the bodies we’ve autopsied. No, something tipped the pale one there. We have any idea what species that is?”

“Sin Fae,” Miram answered, shaking her head, “They were in the public brief we got from the Alliance. Traders mostly, merchants, that sort of thing. We don’t have anything more on them, they’re not a particularly important species in the Alliance.”

Sorilla raised an eyebrow, “If that’s the case, why are they represented here?”

Miram shrugged, “The Alliance is a bureaucracy, there could be any number of reasons.”

“Or they might be more important than anyone wants to let on,” Sorilla suggested. “Let’s put that one on the watch list.”

“This is getting complicated,” Ruger scowled.

“Sir, what did you think was going to happen?” Sorilla asked, genuinely confused. “We’re trading punches with a giant that clearly hasn’t figured out either his own strength, or ours.  You know this, or I wouldn’t be here. Now this pale fellow, this Sin Fae, I want him on the watch list. I read him as a spook, if ever I saw one. He’s a company man, Sir, I guarantee it.”

“Do you think he’s the one who’ll try and derail the talks?” Miram asked.

Sorilla shook her head, “Maybe but I doubt it. No, he’s likely just the intel weenie assigned to the negotiations. Whatever it is, though, if there’s any trouble coming, I’ll bet that he’ll be somewhere nearby. The Lucian, him, he’ll be right in the middle.”

“And where do you see yourself, Major?” Miram asked, eyes on the other woman in the room.

“For the moment? Tagging along with the meat shields,” Sorilla shrugged, gaining another glare from Swift. “Oh quit it with the moon eyes, Swift, you’re not my type. I’ll be there, but I’ll let them do their job without tripping over me. No offense, Madame Ambassador, if the mission calls for it I’ll stop a round for you, but if we reach that point I’ll consider my mission a failure no matter how it turns out.”

She shrugged, “I won’t step on your toes, Swift. Just think of me as part of the Ambassador’s staff, a warm body that doesn’t have priority.”

“Got that right,” Swift grumbled.

Ruger rolled his eyes, annoyed at the conversation being derailed but at least the issue was settled for the moment.

“If we’re all in agreement, then?” He asked, looking around the impromptu round table.

Receiving no objections, he nodded in satisfaction.

“Good. Aida, you’ll go on station as part of the Ambassador’s protective detail. Do you have any plans yet?”

“Mostly this will be just to get the layout, see how things are shaking down,” She said with a shake of her head. “I’m interested in this
merchant
species, but I’m also looking for any representatives of species that have problems with the Alliance. For the immediate future, however, my first priority will have to be intelligence gathering. It’s not what I’m best at, but we have too little of it to make plans right now.”

“Alright,” Ruger nodded, looking to the Ambassador, “and you, Miram?”

“You know my priority,” She shrugged, “negotiate a solid truce, try to turn it into a treaty. I’d appreciate it if your military plotting didn’t screw any of that up, but I’m well aware that you’re going to do it anyway.”

Ruger let that pass, there was nothing he could say to please her anyway, and in all honesty she wasn’t wrong.

“We have a plan of action then. Aida,” He said, nodding to Sorilla, “Do your job.”

“Yes Sir.”

*****

“What are your impression, Sienal?”

The Sin Fae rotated his shoulder joints in an elegant motion, indicating a non-committal response, before speaking.

“It is very hard to tell, the species is very responsive, they have clear body lingual patterns, but we haven’t mapped them all yet.” Sienal answered, “additionally, they are certainly guarded and near to paranoia unless I miss my guess. Not a surprise, given their situation.”

The Parithalian diplomat nodded, “Understandable, I suppose. You have no opinion yet, then?”

“I did not say that, Quarr’a. This is the early game, understand,” Sienel responded, “much may change, but for now I believe that they are mostly sincere in the negotiations to come.”

“Mostly?” Quarr’a asked dryly.

“They’re hiding something, of course, likely many things.” Sienel said simply, “That is the nature of business at this level. My task is to determine just what those things are, and whether they impact your negotiations, but it is far too early to say either way.”

“I understand, do what you can.”

“Of course,” The Sin Fae smiled very slightly, “One thing worth noting…”

“Oh?” The Ambassador looked over, interested.

“They sent a Sentinel, supposedly to protect their Ambassador.”

Quarr’a snorted, “Sentinels are useless for personal protection.”

“Precisely. We know why
we
have assigned Sentinels to the Station, and one to your guard,” Sienel smiled slowly, “the question I must answer now is, why have they?”

“Do it. I need those answers, Sienel.”

The station was impressive, Sorilla had to admit. She’d lived most of the last year or so on the Tether counterweight station over Hayden, and the Alliance station blew it away in damn near every regard. Orbital tethers had some open spaces, usually where the cargo holds of the ship were before it was turned into a tether station, but she felt that she was walking
outside
ever since stepping onto the Alliance facility.

She wasn’t sure if it was as big as it seemed, or if there was a little sleight of hand style trickery going on, but her implants indicated that it was likely a combination of the two. That meant a technical sophistication beyond Earth technology, which wasn’t a surprise, but also a certain appreciation for aesthetics that was rare in SOLCOM because most private hulls were repurposed military designs.

They’d shuttled across in a SOLCOM tug, a space only craft intended for moving between larger ships and stations, and had been greeted with all the expected pomp and circumstance upon arrival. Sorilla had been cataloging everything, driving her implants hard enough that the processor was actually warming up slightly.

That hadn’t happened since her new suite had been implanted.

There was so much to take in that she’d hijacked the feeds from the other officers as well, using their processors’ unused cycles to run it all through. It wasn’t something she was technically supposed to be able to do, and when she got back to SOLCOM space she would have to submit a bug report to close the loophole in the system, but for now she needed all the help she could get.

The first thing that she noticed was that most of the alien species that made up the Alliance, at least those being presented for the human visitors, were what she’d classify as humanoid. Two legs, two arms, hands of varying types, opposable thumbs or something equivalent.

As an armchair sociologist and anthropologist, Sorilla wondered what that said about evolution. It was possible, she supposed, that species likely to be recognized by humans as ‘intelligent’ were highly likely to be tool users, and the humanoid form was uniquely suited to developing and using tools.

It might also be, and this was something she considered at least marginally more likely, that the Alliance was putting forward a comforting face on their society.

See? Look at us, we’re not so different, are we?

In either case, it simplified her current task, which was accumulating intelligence on Alliance species and their body language. She needed to assemble a whole new software library for her implants if she wanted to be effective while operating in Alliance space.

Her spectroscopic scanners were also working overtime, analysing everything from the atmosphere provided in the station to the rather toxic bad breath some of the alien species produced.

It was going to be a long day of work, and that was just where it started.

*****

“Madame Ambassador, it is an honor to have you on my station.”

“The honor,” Miram said, smiling pleasantly as she greeted the tall, blue skinned, alien, “is, of course, all mine.”

Parithalians were spindly looking people, the product of a far lighter than Earth gravity environment. The species had the distinction of being the only species in Alliance space, or SOLCOM space for what that was worth, to have mastered heavier than air flight before discovering fire. There was a whole sordid story behind that, but given that they had used naturally occurring Hydrogen for their flying vehicles, the Parithalian Prometheus was something of a quasi-malicious joker in their mythology.