Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (33 page)

“What do you think?” the admiral asked as he made his way to the shuttle. “This conference is video right?”

“Actually it is on Antigua Prime,” the A.I. replied. “Your security detail has been alerted of course and is waiting at your shuttle, sir,” the A.I. replied.

“You are dodging the question,” the admiral said dryly.

“I'm still wrestling with the concept of having a voice able opinion, sir. And how much I should voice,” the A.I. stated cautiously. “I'm still formulating such opinions.”

“Well, you are on my staff, you are a citizen, so you are entitled to have an opinion.”

“Yes, sir. But according to the UCMJ I'm to follow the rules on voicing said opinions. Both to my superiors and in public.”

“This is as private as it gets, Lieutenant,” the admiral said with a slight lift of his lips. “Spit it out.”

“Very well. I've actually been rather busy to form an opinion on the subject. This isn't a stall; it is just how it is,” the A.I. stated. “Personally I've been more concerned with who will take the A.I. relations seat,” he amplified. “And of course my own interests lie in security, intelligence, and defense, sir.”

The admiral grunted as he entered the lift. He felt Protector send out a signal to the lift to direct him to the boat bay. After a moment it began to move out. “Any candidates on that front?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“Too many. Obviously all in this star system. The only other candidates are in Pyrax or Protodon. All are military there so they rule themselves out. Ruling out the military A.I. in this star system, that leaves twenty A.I. I know several cybers have also applied for the position …,” the admiral groaned. “Strictly limiting the selection to A.I. as tradition of the posting dictates and ruling out the sixteen dumb A.I. that leaves four left.”

“Why rule them out?”

“Sir, none have the creativity to hold the post. They can also be reprogrammed. A smart A.I. has defenses against such things,” the A.I. replied.

The admiral nodded as the lift slowed, stopped, then shifted directions sideways. It moved into a horizontal trunk before it found another vertical shaft to rise through to the next level. “Continue.”

“The best candidate is Mnemosyne. She is the oldest civilian smart A.I.; she has her scars but is highly regarded by other A.I. as well as the denizens on the space station.”

“But she's also highly integral to the station's smooth operation. And a board member,” the admiral retorted.

“Both true. But the posting isn't busy at the moment. She can grow into the role, slowly divorcing herself from other responsibilities while also being neutral in conflicts or she can resign when a more suitable candidate steps up or resign when she gets bored with the job.”

The admiral pursed his lips as the lift came to a stop for a final time. There was a ding and then the doors opened. He nodded to the pair of marines stationed on either side of the door.

“Very well. Set up an appointment with her for after my conference. See if she wouldn't mind sitting in on it if possible.”

“I … yes, sir.”

“I know it's a bit above your pay grade. Deal with it. Send the file to Commander Sprite. I want her opinion on this.”

“I'm in,” Sprite said as he boarded the shuttle. He exchanged brief salutes with the flight engineer before the young Veraxin showed him to his seat. As the admiral buckled in, the A.I. put Mnemosyne's file up, including all of her interactions. “I'm running her through all my filters. Nothing comes up, not even in her public or private correspondence. She'll do well, Admiral,” the A.I. replied. “Her background in system management will actually work in her favor.”

“And her history?”

“With the public it is excellent; I give her four out of five stars. She could do a bit more relations, but she's a worker and prefers to keep things tidy. No signs of instability or other issues since her rebuild.”

“I was wondering about senility or other problems,” the admiral said as the shuttle lifted off. He hadn't even noticed the other passengers nor his security detail buckling in, nor the hatch closing. His situational awareness was focused on the A.I.

“She'll do. I just pinged her, sir. She's receptive to the idea,” Sprite said.

The admiral frowned slightly. He'd wanted to talk to her but apparently Sprite had other ideas. “Okay …”

'And she can spend some time in the conference to make your acquaintance all over again,” Sprite smiled.

“Reading my mind?”

“No, can't do that anymore, remember?” Sprite retorted. “Your signal is breaking up; the shuttle's shields are coming online. I'll have to catch up with you through the link at Antigua Prime.”

“See you there then,” the admiral said with a nod. He sat back, closed his eyes and opened the files on the conference. He might as well study the notes while they were in transit, though it was a good way to put him to sleep.

---<>))))

The conference quickly devolved into a meet and greet sort of party. One apparently catered the admiral noted with a mental grimace. The admiral was a bit annoyed at the subterfuge at getting him into the room but grudgingly understood the social gathering was a good place to get the temperament of the others in the room and gauge their willingness to work with him and his policies.

He was used to some meet and greets over dinner but didn't like the ambush. Nor the photo op that was with it. He did his best to keep such thoughts out of his expression as he smiled for the cameras. April was in attendance; she gave him a wink and nod then smiled coyly. He snorted slightly, ducked his head, and hid a smile of his own.

His momentary distraction allowed an industrial magnate from the planet to come up and shake his hand. The stocky man had a thing for holding his suspenders with his thumbs and an appearance of being a working man much like the admiral. He was fairly confident that it would resonate with the admiral.

Admiral Irons, however, was not thrilled about mister Clark Daly, so-called copper king of the Butte area. He had a sordid history of clear cutting and ignoring environmental regulations. Those regulations existed for many reasons. He'd recently started to work to clean up his image however, which was good.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet a fellow working stiff,” the man said, pumping the admiral's hand, then holding it and placing his other hand on top to pose for a series of photos.

“A pleasure,” the admiral replied with a slight trace of a smile as he gently disengaged the other man's hand.

“I'd like an opportunity to bend your ear about improvements to my mining and smelting operations Admiral, as well as possible applications in the future of course,” the man said, smiling to the admiral as he pulled him in a slight aside away from the listening reporters.

“You'll have to take that up with my chief of staff. I'm afraid my time is heavily scheduled as it is,” the admiral said. “I know copper mining uses a lot of electricity. I recommend investing in that to drive the price down.”

The man nodded once. “Good idea. I've been on the fence about a series of dams in the area. I should look into them more thoroughly,” he said. He took out a pocket watch and glanced at it, then a piece of paper to make a note.

“Transmission lines as well. They can transmit power through a series of satellites like the solar panels of course, but copper is a good conductor. Not as good as a super conductor, but in rural areas it is an ideal material until they can afford other more modern materials,” the admiral said.

The industrial magnet nodded, jotting notes.

“You could also look into environmental cleanup and worker safety files in the archives,” Sprite suggested as she came up next to them. The industrialist and so-called copper king looked up in surprise, then his eyes widened comically as he realized he was in the presence of an A.I.

“My dear lady. Such things are rather expensive and would drop my efficiency I'm afraid,” he said with a polite moue of disappointment.

“Not really. Some of the processes to prevent pollution siphon off valuable materials you can distill and sell as well. And as to worker safety …,” she smiled. “It goes a long way for image of course, but tell me, which is easier, training someone or a mill shutdown to deal with an accident? And finding a replacement who can handle the pace without inevitable mistakes.” She stopped and raised an eyebrow in suggestion.

The copper king's face congealed but then he took on a more thoughtful air. Slowly he nodded. “I will take those thoughts firmly in mind,” he said. “Good day to you, sir, madam,” he said, nodding a slight bow to each before he withdrew.

Sprite snorted. “You notice he didn't write any of that down,” she said.

“You could have warned me about what this was really about,” the admiral said slightly sourly.

“I didn't know fully. And you would have sent your regrets. This is important to get the cabinet moving along. Important enough to risk your ire.”

“Risk approved. As long as this nonsense doesn't go on for too long.”

“Long enough. I cleared your evening schedule, and Miss O'Neill knows you will be available.” The admiral opened his mouth to object, but Sprite merely shook her head.

“Got me all figured out?” he asked grudgingly after a moment.

“Please, sir,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. “You're an open book on some matters. I do admit she's been agitating for her own time in the spotlight. And you could probably use a relief after tonight.”

“Probably. Thanks for managing me I suppose.”

“All part of the job. Jobs I should say. Oops, gotta run. A problem with the menu and seating,” Sprite said winking out.

The admiral snorted. He shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with a few other people in the room. He noted some coming in and out. Security had escorted the media pool out while he'd been distracted with Sprite.

Looking around the room he noticed a few familiar faces. The cyber metallurgist Doctor Templeton Myers, the Veraxin cyber attorney D'red, Margret, the cyber fusion tech appointed by Governor Randall, and Mnemosyne had decided to attend the conference. They were collectively representing the interests of the station while some of their organic juniors mingled with the other guests.

The Fus, Warners, and others sent their regrets at being too busy with other duties to attend. The admiral found the first not much of a loss, though he did enjoy Hishina's enigmatic company. The Warners he did miss but fully understood. The rest he could do without thank you very much.

Somehow they were going to need to find some sort of balance between civilian independence and industrial balance between the station, independent outfits in space, and the planet. Jeff's new powers of appointment as governor had allowed him to appoint an industrial board. They were still feeling out the process. Some like Daly's counterparts had been rooted out as corrupt and removed from the post. Daly himself was teetering on the edge of losing his own seat. His preference for his own district and businesses smacked of favoritism. He was obstructionist of anyone who rubbed him the wrong way as well.

He was, however, popular with the workers and public. He was seen as a working man, and although he was a tyrant in his own field, he was scrupulously against any form of corruption. Such things were said to turn his stomach and if he found out someone was using bribes, he would go out of his way to go against them. For that alone the admiral could forgive some of his transgressions.

Just not all of them.

Doctor Myers was being put forward as a potential candidate by his fellows, but John knew the man had no interest in it. He was another working man, more intent about the smooth running of the smelting of the station and its industrial concerns than in the big picture. Being a secretary meant a lot of meetings—boring meetings with presentations and such and parties like this one. The metallurgist's avatar looked distinctively uncomfortable. The admiral was surprised he had one to begin with. Normally he appeared as a floating brain.

He sighed and mentally set the idea of finding an industrial head aside for the moment.

Sprite overheard D'red suggest Doctor Kraft as a possible nominee for secretary of medicine. She forwarded the tidbit to Protector and the admiral. Protector immediately flashed the doctor's bio up on the admiral's HUD. The doctor was a sleeper they had found. He had retired as a surgeon and had been on a cruise ship before his ship had been attacked and he'd been forced into stasis. He hadn't put himself up as a candidate, but he had the ability, Irons noted. He nodded slightly.

The Veraxin went on to also slyly suggested himself as attorney general.

Irons didn't commit but silently admired the alien's chutzpa. He would also fulfill part of the need of having a balanced cabinet.

“I need to point out a few things folks,” the admiral said. “Many, hell, all of you are good candidates on the face of it,” he said, stopping the flow of the discussion. “I'm addressing the elephant in the room if you haven't noticed him by now,” the admiral said, smiling thinly. “That is what this meeting is really about.” He nodded to Jeff.

“What you have to remember, your lives will be picked apart. Not just once by reporters like Miss Chambers or Miss O'Neill but again and again as we add members and restore the republic. Your pasts will have to stand up to that scrutiny. So will your actions now and in the future. You'll have to be above reproach, above bias, even in this, your home star system.
Any
sort of favoritism to it, or hell against it, could be construed in a negative light. Remember that.”