They're sending me a present?

The Yule season, for me, has always been more about spending time with friends and family and exchanging gifts than anything else. I know there are quite a few deeply held religious traditions tied to the season, but the key word there is Season. The oldest traditions I've seen in the texts all revolve around the Winter Solstice on Earth that Was, which were only relevant in the Northern hemisphere. Perhaps more important, they were only relevant in Winter, in the Northern Hemisphere, on Earth that Was. Even with the massive scale geoengineering and terraforming projects made so many worlds in the 34 Tauri system habitable, the seasons on any given world rarely matched the old Earth calendar.

Which doesn't actually change most of the religious beliefs associated with calendar dates, or the calendar traditions of getting together with friends and giving each other presents. It's just that "Yule" and "Winter" don't coincide for a large fraction of the people in the verse.

Some of the folk I knew have already started exchanging presents. Lily gave me a pair of hand made mittens, and I got some lovely jewelry from Gray. Quite the surprise that, but much appreciated. There's others, of course. Like the set of custom machined extended fifty cal mags Genni Foxtrot gave me. Which, while quite practical, just shows how well we've come to know each other.

It's the ones you never expect that give you pause. Like when your Commanding Officer sends you a wave to tell you he's "sending you a present."

"I trust you're well, Lieutenant Colonel," Taggart started. Semi formal, which always meant he had something 'special' to talk about.

"Of course, General Taggart, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Respond in kind, of course. I was actually a little curious. We spoke usually once a week over a secure link. Keeping each other appraised of developments above and below each other's respective pay grades.

"I've been looking at your situation reports. All good. Just a little uncomfortable with nesting your operation on a civilian station."

He was right, of course. While I had multiple levels of control over the station and could isolate my own office and communications stack from the KHI operations, there was still a lot of civilian traffic. Someone was going to notice something. I'd noted it myself, but there weren't a lot of options available to me. The surface might be a little easier to secure, but there wasn't a ready made facility I could repurpose to my needs. Not since my needs had grown past what I could easily shoehorn into a safehouse.

"I've got a solution for you," he went on. Maneuvering closer to the point of the wave. "You're familiar with the Kamkamoss class Corvette?"

I was, actually. The Kamkamoss class was a dedicated ELINT ship. The hulls and drive sections were built by Kawanishi Heavy Industries, while the ELINT surveillance and Communications suites were sourced from several very specialized vendors. The Kamkamoss was as hard to spot as an ELINT Matagi, but carried a good deal more kit. The difference between a large lander and a small warship.

"IAV Saule Silencieuse has just finished her shakedown cruise, Sea. Hull number four. I'm sending her to you. Crew's still getting sorted out, but her mission will be under your control. She'll augment the capacity you've already got in place there and will give you a lot more capability than that little Matagi of yours can muster. Details are inbound with the next secure update."

"Thank you, General. This is . . . unexpected." Which was an understatement. While it wasn't unprecedented for a sector chief to have access to an asset like this, they were usually deployed as needed with a self contained crew. The section chief would request the asset and get it only if Command felt it was justified. Then, the asset would remain under her captain's control. They'd execute the mission and move on to the next. To put one of these boats under my direct control?

Completely unexpected.

"Thought you'd like that. She's technically a district asset. You'll have to deal with requests from other commands, but her Captain'll be direct report to you."

"Thank you, General. Don't know what to say."

Taggart chuckled softly, a warm smile on the screen. "Merry Christmas, Seana. "

"Thank you, Tag. And you."

Yup.

Completely unexpected.

Built entirely from exotic materials and improbable numbers.

True to her word, Professor Sinclair, Tawny as she insisted I call her, came through with the mathematical models I'd asked for. What I hadn't expected though, was the sheer volume of data she'd produced based on the information I'd given her. I could understand part of the information she'd sent me but a good deal of it went considerably over my head. Not that much of a surprise. While I'd studied a good deal of math, a Master's in Applied Technology only had to go so far. This stuff? This was so abstract I doubted more than a handful of people in the 'Verse knew how to interpret the raw data.

"Hello, Miss Seana. I know there's a lot of data here to go through, but if you look towards the back of the analysis I put together a chunk that explains it in layman's terms."

Uh huh. Where Layman's Terms is defined as Engineering Undergrad level mathematics. Though, were most of the leading analysis was considerably beyond my knowledge, the compilation at the end was something I could follow. At least, with a bit of effort and reference to a couple of the texts I'd used half a lifetime ago.

"I'm sure you'll figure out what it all means. Though you did ask me to be clear. What it all boils down to is that on a purely modeled basis, the von Neumann Machines have sufficient complexity to support an Artificial Intelligence that could easily pass for sentient. But you know that, 'cause Raids is sentient and she runs on one of the Machine's high end cores."

I could hear a tinge of excitement in the explanatory overview she sent along with the data. More than a tinge, really. More like the almost giddy tone Uncle Elsoph took when he got to talking about one of his research projects.

What was it about genius that made them . . . odd?

"I made Blue promise not to tamper with the data or my message." For a moment, her voice took on a stern tone, like she assumed the big AI was listening in, which he probably was, and she was subtly reminding the big AI to keep his promise. "As you know, there's several different architectural models that can support AI. Raids and the KM series known as Krenshar are both hardware-centric platforms. Oh! I'm sorry. I heard what happened. It's always sad to lose someone like that. There's a distributed model as well, like Blue uses. Blue's kind of everywhere at once. There's advantages and limitations to both models, but you know that too."

I could see that in the diagrams. Raw computational capacity, versus computational speed, versus resiliency, versus survivability, versus latency, versus the minimum platform capabilities required to support machine sentience. All in a great deal of detail.

"As you can see from that last set of diagrams, the Machines have more than enough raw capability to support both hardware-centric and distributed node architectures. I know that's kinda scary and all, but take a look at that last probability vector analysis. See? With the exception of Raids, and possibly her sisters, if she has any, the machines, as a whole, aren't self aware. Not really. The behavior models match up very well with the original non-sentient code base they were running on. It looks like a lot of the safeguards are still in place. Bad side though is that doesn't stop them from following their programming and just killing everyone. After they make lots of other machines. And then more machines. And then send them all to kill everyone."

"If it's any consolation, they won't care that they're killing everyone. They'll just be machines doing what they're programmed to do. At least, um, that is, as long as they don't spontaneously go fully AI like Raids did. I don't know if that'll be bad or not. I'm still working on those models. I promise I'll let you know as soon as I figure it out!"

She signed off, cheerful and pretty as the last time I'd seen her.

The question was whether the news was good or bad. If the machines were non-sentient, there were no ethical questions about taking them down. If they were self aware, the picture changed. It became an ethical choice between the survival of two rival species, for lack of a better word. Would we be able to live in peace with our synthetic children if that was the case?

Part of me very much wanted to believe we could. That people like Lily and AuroraBlue and Blue himself could serve as a bridge between Man and Machine. The other part remembered five thousand years of recorded Human history. Half the time, w couldn't bridge the distance between people. How could we ever bridge the difference between organic and synthetic forms of life?

Just what I needed to be thinking about going into the Yule season.

Rung Tse Fwo Tzoo Bao Yo Wuo Muhn.

Inorganic Minds

Models of what may yet be

A future unclear

Rumor and innuendo

"I've heard a somewhat disconcerting rumor, Colonel. Care to shed some light on it for me?"

Colonel Silvermane was working on her second cappuccino, taking in the afternoon sun at a small cafe on Beaumonde. The site was't technically special, but it was yet another new venue. Each time we'd met it was in a different location, usually with several stops in between on our respective itineraries. It was probably more caution than we needed, but old habits die hard and some of the habits existed to make it harder to die.

"Which rumor would that be, Major? That I'm seeing a fighter pilot on the side, or that the Loyalists want me dead?"

I had to laugh. Neither of those were actually rumors, so much as obfuscated facts. The Loyalist faction still had her on their list of 'people to deal with when we gain more power,' and she had been spending some intimate time with one of the squadron commanders. But neither of those facts were especially disconcerting or even surprising.

"Neither of the above?" I answered over my own latte. "No, I was thinking about the one wherein you'd volunteered the 1st Marine Raiders to relieve the 9th Dragoons in Antioch's southern conflict."

Her features hardened for a moment before giving me a curt nod of acknowledgement. "Yes. That. Not a rumor, Sea. The 1st isn't cut out for the duty they have us on now. The 9th is almost ready to rotate out of the conflict zone and we're well suited to kind of operations they're running on Antioch. We're not military police. We're Marines. We kill people and break things. It's what we do best, and we're not doing a lot of it playing babysitter at some Gorram politician's behest."

She was right. The 1st Marine Raiders were a Marine unit. Space-mobile Light Assault Infantry, trained and intended for rapid deployment to take specific objectives then either evac or hand off to a conventional unit. The 'play policeman' patrols they were doing on several Rim colonies under Martial Law really weren't their forte. They hadn't even been especially well suited to 'show the flag' patrols. Marines, as Cory said, killed people and broke things. Parades weren't their specialty.

"Antioch though? The Southern Conflict has been going on since before the Unification War. Warlords fighting each other over terrain no one else would want, and High Command never committing enough forces to assert any kind of control. You really want to through the 1st into that mess?"

She didn't, I knew. No one would ever accuse Corrine Silvermane of being a coward, but she wasn't one of those commanders who treated their soldiers as expendable. Though Alliance ground force doctrine usually included 'throw more men at it,' some commanders shied away from human wave tactics in favor of, well, real tactics. Silvermane was one such, which was possibly one of the reasons the Loyalists didn't like her so much.

Her unit, on the other hand, seemed to appreciate the fact that they had a better Success/Casualty ratio than most other units.

"It'll be what it is, Sea. Whether the 1st rotates in or not is up to High Command. I put it out there. They can take it or leave it."

Take it leave it. That seemed to be a common thread weaving itself into my life right now. For better or worse, it was what it was.

Take it or leave it

Some things never seem to change

It is what it is

Interservice rivalry

"Because the flotilla commander is a risk averse coward and would rather keep fleet assets safe, than risk them protecting Nóngcūn hóuzi out on the Rim. No offense."

"None taken."

Corrine's opinion of the Flotilla Commander based on the Sun Tzu was, to understate, less than glowing. They had an odd relationship. While Silvermane had command of the 1st Marine Raiders based mostly aboard the cruiser and, by virtue of some political decision, overall command of how the Alliance dealt with the colonies in their patrol sector, the Navy units reported to the flotilla commander. The man wasn't even a Flag Officer. Not really. He'd been appointed after the Loyalist fiasco, more for his adherence to 'core Parliamentary principles' than his ability to command a battle group.

From what I'd been able to discern, none of the patrol frigate commanders especially liked him, the captain of the Sun Tzu didn't like him, and Colonel Silvermane decidedly didn't like him. But he was in charge of the Fleet elements in the region. So the ships went where he told them to go, which wasn't always where the Colonel wanted them to go.

She understood my concern though. With Hale's Moon and several other colonies under Martial Law, we were more reliant on the Alliance for defense against Raiders, Reavers, Pirates, and politicians, than otherwise. But that meant the Alliance forces had to be in position to help us when the time arose. While nearly half of the 1st Marine Raiders were deployed to patrol duties between the frigates and the small patrol boats, Flotilla Command was doing their part to 'minimize risk, increase efficiency, and lower coasts' to the squadron. Which translated to them rarely being where we needed them to be when we needed them to be there.

Quite frustrating to a professional soldier.

Less so to a spook.

The rouge "Alliance" ships we'd encountered on the Rim, Pirates of a form, really, were in some ways more of a thorn in Fleet's side than ours. I hadn't pursued the possibility that they were a quasi false flag operation, intended to make it look like the Alliance were raising hell again or were incompetent to keep others from doing same in their name. Sadly, something else on my long list of 'Really need to look into that's.'

It was an odd cover though. If they were really rogue, it made sense. Pretend you were Alliance and hope the locals fell for it. When they did, you'd have cooperative targets who may not know they were being had, and might not report it if they did. The danger, of course, was when the Alliance finally got tired of your detarame, they would come down on you like the proverbial ton of bricks. Their "justice" would be swift and most likely fatal. Also, if the locals didn't buy your fake ID's they'd be inclined to fight all the harder.

Black Ops? Possible, but to what end? It was hard right now to tell where things were going with the situation. There was pressure both directions: to back out and let the locals handle their own problems, or to move in full force and put an end to it. There were political advantages and disadvantages no matter which way the die rolled. Good or bad depended on which faction was asking the question and when.

It was something I'd look into. Something I might have an answer to the next time Silvermane and I met. Assuming I had time to look. Though, I had to admit there was the temptation to do some troubleshooting of my own.

Home is where you hang your holsters

The flight back to Hale's Moon had a couple of minor detours that added considerable time and distance to the trip, but were certainly worth it. Now, with Tiny Dragon handing me my ass in a game of Go, Kari curled up asleep on the couch in the main compartment, and two hundred odd kilos of fresh coffee beans in the hold, I could relax.

The fist stop on Ariel was, honestly, by far the more important of the two. While 'Brina and I talked to each other over a Cortex link every couple days, it wasn't the same as seeing each other in person. No matter how good haptic feedback systems got, they were no substitute for the real thing. I'd missed Sabrina's touch. A lot. I'd married her, after all. Most married couples liked to touch each other. Kind of went with the whole long term relationship thing.

This stretch with 'Brina on Ariel had it's stress. I'd be lieing to deny it. But she was happy working in the Research and Development labs, and I had the luxury of not having to hide my day to day work from my wife. We saw as much of each other as we could, which, admittedly, was a good deal more than most married couples in the active Alliance military got.

Still, it wasn't really long enough. Even extending it to give AuroraBlue and Kari a chance to get ashore for a little while didn't give us enough time together. Not that I could complain. We'd learned to cram a lot of quality into very little time. Which, I suppose, was what most married couples in the Alliance military did too. Make your shore leave count.

The second stop, on Surfer's New Paradise to refresh the coffee supply, was even shorter. Uncle Sobi had pulled together half a dozen or so roasts and packed them into sealed containers so we wouldn't have to worry about them going bad. Roughly two hundred kilos in all, including a couple of my favorite blends and a kilo of Kopi Luwak for my personal stash. I wasn't going to ask exactly how Sobi's clanmates managed to keep a population of Civets on their island paradise. Though, as I understood it, the environment inland from their beach enclave wasn't unlike Indonesia as it existed on Earth that Was.

He'd also included a few mixed cases of quality liquor to stock the new bar we were fitting out on the Orbital. Hadn't managed to quite convince him to come back and run it for us, given how things had turned out at Fook Yoo's, but I'd made the offer and he was offering up some premium ethanol to the endeavour.

I know Sobi was curious about AuroraBlue, and probably Kari too, seeing how her origin was more than a little enigmatic, but he didn't intrude. Wasn't his way. But he did give Kari a bottle of locally made rum when he came aboard Wave Equation to make sure the cargo got stowed right. Also gave AuroraBlue something in a gift wrapped box, and asked her to promise not to open it until Yule. She just nodded. Sobi'd heard that she'd stopped talking and just smiled, leaning down to give her a kiss on the cheek and a quiet "Ya'll take care o' yer kinfolk, ya'hear?" before heading out to give us clearance to boost.

Fortunately, nothing major had gone down in our absence. Except a raid. But that was pretty minor. The Militia had mustered up just fine and handled the problem before the Alliance patrols could even show up.

Another win for us, and a bit more pressure on the Alliance to back out and give us our colony back. Part of their justification for Martial Law was that we weren't handling things locally, which was getting show to be a lie. We could handle things just fine.

Colonel Silvermane'd admit the Alliance had no business keeping boots on the ground, while Liaison Officer Lionhart was a but more sacrosanct about it. She didn't strike me as the sort of bureaucrat who'd stick her neck too far out which made me think she was as in the dark about the reason as the rest of us.

At least officially.

Didn't matter though. Things were what they were, and we'd make do with them. We always did.

Back to school

The Jesuit University of New Fresno was, perhaps surprisingly, one of the premier pure research universities in the 'Verse. They specialized in physics, mathematics, astronomy, and cosmology. All related fields. The Jesuit order had a history that dated back at least a thousand years, to well before the Exodus. There were quite a few, often confusing, sometimes contradictory, stories about their origin and purpose. In contrast to what some would expect, given their origin as a Monastic religious order on Earth that Was, their universities had a reputation for strong academic values.

Still didn't quite explain why Professor Sinclair was here teaching. Not when she already had tenure at Feynman and at least two others: at 26. But here was where she was, so here was where I was - prowling the grounds of a premier university campus trying to find the Upton Hall of Mathematics.

I found Professor Sinclair in one of the lecture halls, giving a lecture on some aspect of advanced mathematics that was more than a little over my head. No surprise really. I'd had a solid formal education, but even with a Master's in Applied Technology the frontiers of theoretical mathematics were well beyond what most of us could even comprehend.

Forty minutes later, and I was waiting in her office waiting for her to come out of 'Lecture' mode. The professors here had a long tradition of wearing monastic robes that looked like they'd come from an Abby on Earth that Was during the medieval period. The reason was lost to history, though there was an official story that the robes took the focus off the Professor's presence to let the students concentrate on the content being presented. With Sinclair, the robes were probably more of a requirement than a tradition.

I'd seen holos of the Professor long before I came to New Fresno, but when she tossed the formal robe covering a t-shirt and shorts aside and settled into the seat behind the large wooden desk, I realized the images hadn't done her justice. A cascade of red hair, intense green eyes, a perfect face. Professor Sinclair wasn't just 'very pretty' as she appeared in the images. She was stunning. Teen-age fantasy poster model stunning. Invade your dreams stunning.

Without the robes, most of her students wouldn't have been able to concentrate on the lecture.

"Please, Colonel, take a seat," she said, cheerfully, motioning me to one of the leather covered chairs. "Sorry the lecture went a little long. Did you have a nice flight?"

It took a second for the fleeting "Elle est belle" moment to pass before I settled comfortably into a chair. "Please, Professor. Just Seana. No one calls me Colonel."

She actually blushed a moment, then laughed. "Oh! I'm sorry. I forgot that's a secret. Deal. You've got to call me Tawny though, ok? 'Professor' is just too stodgy. Coffee? I'll make some fresh."

I nodded yes and watched as she made coffee in an antique press that was probably older than the trees that had gone into her desk. Sinclair was known for her work in Crypto, but that wasn't why I was here. My interests were, if anything, even more esoteric than the convoluted mathematical world of keeping secrets secret.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Tawny. I know I was less than clear about the specifics when I asked to see you, but this isn't about your Cryptology work."

She smiled, pouring out two cups of coffee from the antique press. "Oh, it's ok Seana. I know. He told me. It's about the Machines and modeling their Artificial Intelligence."

I nodded, then paused. "Wait. What? He told you?"

Sinclair stopped, looked at me in a moment's confusion, then started to giggle. "Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't know you didn't know. Blue Man. Your friend. The AI. He was telling me about the issue you've had on the Rim with those von Neumann machines. He said you'd probably come talk to me about it. "

For a moment I was speechless. She knew Blue? I knew he wasn't restricted to just a single piece of kit, or location. As far as I could tell, he could go wherever the Cortex went. By now, he'd have instances of 'Self' scattered through the Cortex from Londinium to Miranda and most nodes in between. But Blue, historically, had kept his existence hidden. His very existence partially relied on the 'Verse as a whole not knowing about him. There were ways to keep him out, but they were complex and beyond the ken of most system operators. That people weren't taking active measures to "deal with" the most complex AI in human history was a testament to the fact that very, very, few people even knew he was there.

"Indeed, Tawny. I hadn't realized Blue was talking to you. To anyone, really. But yes. There aren't a lot of people I can consult on the subject and your mathematical modeling of machine consciousness is state of the art. I'd very much appreciate your input."

She smiled cheerfully, settling back into her chair and curling her legs up under her. "I'd be happy to. I don't get a lot of opportunity to work with real AI. Other than Blue, I mean," she said with a laugh, then leaned forward. "So, what have you got?"

I made it back to Wave Equation nine and a half hours later. Kari had coffee ready, but had been bored staying aboard the boat since we landed. AuroraBlue was curled up on the couch, asleep, after prowling campus for most of the day. And I was tired. Brain hurt, kind of tired.

Exhausted, really.

Exhausted, but it was worth it. I'd gotten even more than I'd intended. I wasn't sure whether Sinclair would be able to answer my core questions, but she was the best chance we had. I just had to wonder whether, ultimately, we really wanted to know the answer.

Stowing away

There's a lot of myths about stowing away aboard spacecraft. Some of them are even true. Many have some grain of truth in them, whilst some are reiner Schwachsinn. Pure bullshit. One of the common ones is that it's simple to stow aboard any ship. All you have to do is avoid being seen boarding, and avoid getting caught aboard. And, while there is some grain of truth to that little myth, the fact is that it depends almost entirely on the configuration of the boat and the diligence of her crew.

There's a lot of signs when there's a stowaway aboard. Some easier to see than others, and some more or less dependent on the boat in question. Examples? Easy. Skipping past the obvious "getting found by the crew" parts, you get to the root of it. Passengers breathe. They eat, drink, and excrete too. Unless they brought along their own air, water, and food, they're going to put some sort of load on the ship's life support. You can figure out there's someone extra aboard just by keeping an eye on the life support monitors. That's without any kind of fancy on-board security systems.

Of course, the bigger the boat, the smaller the proportional load'll be. If the boat's old and creaky to start with, like an old tramp freighter, chances are no one'll notice. Some of those boats lose enough atmo through the hull seals that a stowaway would just look like noise. Thing is, on a smaller boat, an extra passenger will show up right quick on the life support load. Hell, if your navigation suite's any good, an extra 50 kilos moving around the boat will show up on the maneuver console.

Wave Equation, in spite of her range and performance, was a small boat. She wasn't old, and she wasn't creaky.

And I didn't use a lot of life support.

Now, I was right gratified that AuroraBlue had decided to come along on this little excursion. It would be good to spend time with my little girl. What I hadn't quite expected was to find I had another passenger. Though, to be sure, I hadn't really needed any fancy monitoring to figure out there was a third person aboard. No, Kari hadn't actually bothered to hide. She'd just curled up on the bunk under a blanket and waved when I came back into the cabin.

Reminded me of Nack's comment that his sister didn't like to travel off world much. Seems he wasn't entirely up to date on her flight preferences. Having her aboard would make for an interesting trip, but I couldn't complain. It would certainly make the flight to Athens interesting.

The entire point of this trip, aside from a stop to see Sabrina and another to swing by Surfer's New Paradise for fifty kilo's of fresh coffee, was to stop at the Jesuit University of New Fresno on Athens. Specifically, to see a mathematician who was guest lecturing there. She wasn't in a position to travel and a Cortex bridge wasn't secure enough for our needs, so I would have to go and see her in person.

It was kind of an odd situation, really. Intel Section had mathematicians I could tap if I needed to. The Signals Intelligence and Cryptology units were loaded with them. But they weren't professor Sinclair. Plus, they served other masters. By reputation and everything I'd been able to research, she'd stayed in academia because, for her, Universities didn't care so much about what she was working on. Only that she was doing it. And sharing it. Which left some folk in the Alliance a little annoyed, especially when she'd published a paper that effectively broke about a third of Parliament's secure comms traffic.

Just the sort of person I needed to talk to.

Outbound leg

Every time I leave Hale's Moon, I wonder what'll change in my absence. Reaver attack? Alliance install a new government? Another rock drop out of orbit and leave a smoking hole somewhere on the surface? Was always something different. Not always so major, but always something to leave me saying "Mmmm, maybe I should have stayed around."

Some unknown miscreants trying to kidnap Tillery one day, and a bounty hunter bagging Cody a couple days later made my departure a little awkward. But I'd already delayed my trip longer than I should have. Rescheduling with Sabrina was easy. Uncle Elsoph would kick her out of the lab before I docked, no matter when I docked. But meeting the Professor was a different story.

The 'missing Cody' issue I would have to leave to others. The pilot of the boat that took him killed his pulse beacon while the IAV Abraham Sinkov was vectoring in. Made it easier for them to drop off the grid, seeing how the Sinkov's array's were typical Alliance and essentially kainashi. That didn't mean our system couldn't track them for a good deal farther. Still, there were a lot of worlds to alert down that vector, even with a solid ident and profile for the boat.

Have to hope someone, on a console somewhere, made the connection when the boat set down and sent word back our way. Doubted I'd be around to deal with it, but Gallagher or someone else in the Sheriff's office could follow up the lead.

AuroraBlue showing up while I was at Firefly's before departure put another spanner in the gears. She still wasn't talking to anyone, me included, but it seemed she didn't need to talk. She was able to make herself understood whether she spoke or not. The details were still fuzzy, but it had something to do with x0x0, her horse, and a lot of altitude. The problem was, there were too many vectors for me to chase down. I couldn't pursue Cody, x0x0, Tillery's kidnappers, and the work I was rapidly running out of time to do all at the same time.

If AuroraBlue snuck aboard, I wouldn't complain. I'd offered to take her with me but I'd have to leave the ultimate decision up to her. I wasn't going to force the issue. Assuming I could force the issue. Which, itself, was in doubt. Tiny Dragon faced the world on her own terms. She might listen to a suggestion, or choose to accept a command based on respect, but she wasn't going to be intimidated into cooperation or just do something "because I said so." She was a lot like her mother in that respect.

I'd get contacts, official and otherwise, to look into the current issues. I wasn't going to bring all of my Intel Section resources to bear, but it was easy enough to set the flags and let the big, unwieldy, oft uncoordinated, intel machine do its thing. Where x0x0 and Cody were involved, I could use official channels to discretely query the Special Investigations Group where Major Siamendes had still been showing some passing interest in my residents. Not that the normal flags wouldn't catch it.

For now, it was time to get a move on. Say good night to friends at Firefly's. File a pre-flight that was almost, but not quite, accurate, and get Wave Equation into the black. I had a lot of space to cover, and not a lot of time to do it.

Just hoped the trip went as intended.

There's just some days . . .

I'd been getting ready to leave. Not permanently kind of leave. Just a few days off world to handle some very specific business that couldn't be handled remotely. Or, more accurately, a very specific person I would have to go to rather than bring to me. Two of them, really, since I planned to swing by Ariel on the way home to spend some time with 'Brina. I'd been feeling the distance more and more lately and work was becoming less of a distraction from that "alone" feeling.

We both had our ways of dealing with being apart. We both had local friends who could brighten our days. From what I was hearing, 'Brina was very popular with the other engineers in Uncle Elsoph's special projects group and with the platform's staff in general. Add to it a population at the orbital shipyard that was about triple what we had on all of Hale's Moon, and close proximity to other facilities and Ariel itself, and my wife wasn't lacking for distractions.

My situation on Hale's Moon was a little different. There was less to do. Less to keep my mind occupied away from work. Especially since the Alliance changed our government on us and pretty much put me out of my publicly acknowledged job. Though, to be fair, I was less of a social animal than my wife. Most of the time I was content to be alone in the Black. When I need to feel people around, I could fly down to the surface and spend an evening in Fook's or Firefly's. Plus I've had Haley to keep me company, snoring aside, and, more recently, Kari, Nack's sister, has spent some very pleasant social time with me. Unexpected, but welcome.

Who knew cats liked coffee?

Unfortunately, my departure plans were interrupted by a frantic call from the surface. It seems someone had stormed the CNS offices on Hale's Moon and taken Tillery hostage. Why? No clue. Probably either ransom or some kind of political statement. Either way, with no active Alliance patrol on the ground, it would be up to our locals to deal with the issue.

Fortunately for Tillery, no one did anything stupid. At least not very stupid. I had Genni assemble a Militia sniper team to deal with the keijijou holding Tillery on the roof of the CNS building. I resisted the urge to call in a team from the Sinkov, since the more it looked like we could handle things on our own the more likely it was Silvermane could push for us to get control of the colony back.

In the meantime, our locals handled things like they so often do. With a lot of random gunfire and a bit of high explosives. Not always very effective, but often spectacular.

The Infirmary had a few casualties to deal with in the aftermath, but at least Tillery wasn't hurt. Down side was the kidnappers got away, evacing on a stolen shuttle when our locals took to the air for better position themselves before Genni's snipers got into position. They left Tillery behind, shaken up but uninjured, and Cody, who'd somehow managed to get himself stared down at gunpoint.

Best we could do at that point was put out an alert with the stolen shuttle's ident and hope one of the Alliance patrols, or a friendly merchant in the region, caught site of them. With our navtrac being what it was, they'd have a hard time just transferring to another boat and slipping away, but they could probably get out of range before anyone caught up with them.

If I hadn't been on short time, I might have gone after them myself. Was unlikely a stolen shuttle would be able to elude Wave Equation's arrays. Wasn't in the cards though. Had places I needed to be, and with Tillery safe, I wasn't so concerned with the folk who'd tried to snatch him. Was something I could leave the the authorities.

Though, to be sure, it was something I'd be looking into when time allowed.

Rebuilding

Folks living on the Rim can be a stubborn , cantankerous, lot. Especially when it comes to things they've built and consider a part of who they are. It's like the folks who went back to recolonize Shadow before the radiation from the last bombing had fully cleared, or the ones who went back to try and reclaim Blackburne from the Reavers and the Wastes. The same thing's starting to happen here on Hale's with the crater that was Destiny.

Now, I'm not one to discourage someone from trying the impossible. Trying impossible things is what slides an eraser over the "im" part of that word, leaving possible behind. Folk don't try, they don't find out that sometimes "it can't be done" is a lie.

Thing is, not everything that's been called 'impossible' is worth proving wrong. There's some things that maybe can be done, but maybe shouldn't aught to be done. Like those man-powered Ornithopters they build on Colchester. Sure, they fly. But what's the point?

Same thing seemed to be happening with what had been the Destiny compound. Some of the folk who'd evacuated before the rock pasted the site have started rebuilding parts of the enclave. Never mind the ground hasn't cooled yet. Never mind there's a moon's worth of open land to work on. Never mind there's no real shortage of housing in the main colony proper. Never mind they're rebuilding under the watchful eye of the Alliance, who hasn't forgotten flippant remarks about nuclear weapons. Never mind there's no real good reason to rebuild there. They're doing it.

Stubborn.

Cantankerous.

Part of me understands wanting to rebuild, but these are some of the same folk who had to evacuate Caliban and came here to restart. They didn't rebuild there when the Alliance collapsed the dome. What made them want to stay here? Perhaps more important, given as they hadn't shown any real desire to integrate with the existing colony, what makes them want to rebuild their enclave right in our back yard? Somehow building here will put a thorn in the Alliance's paw? Don't seem especially likely. More like they're shoving their tenacity in the face of the folk who'd already proven they could survive anything this little slice of heaven threw at them.

Wasn't much inclined to stop them, of course. Not my place to tell them no. Not much need either. The deal they'd had with Blue Sun for the land was already defunct. The rock impact hadn't changed that. Seeing as they were building so close to the colony proper, they'd be under the Colony's auspices. Least that's how I saw it. And, likely, how the Alliance would see it, given my conversations with Lionheart and Silvermane.

So let them rebuild. They'd be part of the town, like it or not. At least when the Alliance gave the town back to us. Meantime, they could be as shibutoi as they wanted. Wouldn't make much difference in the long run.

Right now, I had to change focus to other issues.

They'd still be there when I had time to put a boot down.

The one wherein the Destiny Enclave is replaced by a large smoking crater...

If I said I was comfortable with everything that went on in the Enclave It'd be a lie. From the Casino that everyone knew about to the hidden genetic research laboratories that pretty much no one knew about, there were goings on behind the fence that never really sat well with me. Not that having it close enough to keep an eye on wasn't an advantage, but there were times the Risk vs Reward balance swung a bit too far towards the Risk side for my taste. Not to mention some of the residents having a separatist attitude that was kinda galling. Like it or not. Admit it or not. Their whole Gorram enclave existed because I convinced the council to let x0x0 alter our deal with Blue Sun.

Destiny existed because Blue Sun let 'em set up on their leased land. Blue Sun had land to sublease, because I convinced the Town Council it was a righteous idea.

Now, I didn't rightly mind an independent spirit. The folk on Hale's were right independent minded most of the time. But when you let refugees move in out of the kindness of your collective heart and some of them go out of their way to not make an effort to join your community? That's just not right. Hell. There were times a few of them seemed to go out of their way to make trouble. Threatening the Alliance with a nuke? Whole colony'd have been humped if we hadn't nipped that in the bud.

Suppose it's no surprise I didn't shed a tear when a low velocity rock center punched their landing pad. We'd gotten enough warning to know it's trajectory and knew it was big enough we couldn't alter its course. Numbers showed it'd hit like a tactical nuke. Five, maybe eight, kiloton yield. Enough energy to wreck everything in the immediate vicinity, but not enough kinetic energy to do more than shower the main colony with a layer of kicked up dust. There was also more than enough warning to let folk evac, so when it hit it didn't end anyone's span. Just made a royal mess of the compound.

Not to say that altering the surface like that didn't give me a twinge. The folk who'd lived in the Enclave had been through a lot. Life hadn't been exactly kind to them. Hell, the Replicants had evac'd Hale's to go to Caliban, only to have that settlement taken out by an Alliance Cruiser. To have their refuge here turned into a crater by a hunk of rock seemed like an ignoble end to Weyland Yutani's experiment in replacing human miners with machines.

But, in the end, they'd find themselves a new home. Any of them wanted to stay on Hale's Moon and join the folks who called our little slice of Heaven home, more power to 'em. We'd welcome them. They wanted to set out for other parts of the 'Verse? We'd wish them the best.

If it ever came up again, I was right sure we'd think hard before offering large scale refuge to folk who don't show an interest in integrating with the people already here. History's had its share of examples and, unfortunately, we hadn't paid quite enough attention to them.

Wouldn't happen again.

Or, more correctly, if it did, it wouldn't be because I'd let it. Only trouble now, was finding resources in town willing to help them clean up their mess.

Laika Day

Having Haley curled up on her pillow next to my desk, snoring merrily along in her sleep, brought Nora's reminder early this morning home. On the Old Calendar, reflecting dates and holidays and significant events from Earth that Was, today was 3 November. Just another day for more or less everyone in the 'Verse.

Only, it wasn't.

With several thousand years of recorded history, albeit with some gaps and omissions, and only 365 days in a standard Earth that Was year, there are bound to be multiple events with significance to multiple groups on pretty much every day on the calendar. That's just statistics. Like the random chance of having two people in the same class with the same birthday. On most calendars, there's nothing special about 3 November. But 3 November, 1957, was the first time a living creature from Earth flew into space.

Her name's remembered as Laika. She was a mongrel dog the Russians found in Moscow, and they sent her into space partially for Science and partially as a publicity stunt. I can barely imagine what it must have been like back then. Clawing into orbit on chemically fueled rockets that were built so light, they were likely to fall apart from their own thrust. Some of them did fall apart in flight. Or exploded at launch. Or tumbled out of the sky and killed their crew.

It was a different time then. Primitive technologies and political systems on the brink of global war. The politics may not be so unlike they are today, but now days when your dog flies into orbit she's probably curled up in your lap, or in the galley begging for snacks, not strapped into a metal capsule scared and alone.

It's so easy for us, now, to forget. But for some strange reason, I don't. There's nothing special to do on Laika day, except maybe give your favorite dog an extra treat.

And to remember Laika.

Change of tempo

It had been a while since I was a regular at Firefly's. When 'Brina left for Ariel I lost my dance partner and, to be honest, we hadn't been as social at the bar in the previous months in any case. And no, it wasn't because I thought I'd been snubbed by never being featured in any of the bar's calendar's over the years.

Still, the bar had always attracted a broad range of folk and I was quite fond of many of them. They'd always billed themselves as the friendliest bar in the 'Verse and, while it was debatable, the claim did have more than a little merit. I'd met my wife in Firefly's back when it was on Blackburne, and sparked off more than one friendship, so the place would always have a reservation in my heart.

Thing was, since 'Brina had gone off to work on a special project with Uncle Elsoph, I'd been a bit lonesome. Not the 'defining characteristic' level of lonesome it had been when I'd gotten to Hale's Moon in the first place, but I was critically aware that I was sharing my room with a Beagle rather than a Beagle and my wife. While Haley was adorable, she did snore, and her nose was cold, and there were some needs a dog, no matter how affectionate, just couldn't fulfill.

I'd gone back to Firefly's on a lark. Taking the shuttle down from the Orbital to see who was around on one of the nights when Gray was spinning the tunes. Wednesday nights are usually quieter than the weekends, which kind of fit my mood. I wasn't really looking for anything, except, maybe, a distraction from being alone in my office in orbit.

I was actually mildly surprised to see Raids there in the bar. It had been a while since I'd seen her, though I tried to keep tabs on her and had made an effort to tell the Alliance patrols that she was legally a citizen and entitled to the same protection and respect that everyone else on the colony deserved. That, and if they pissed her off, I wouldn't be responsible for their medical bills.

Raids asked me if I was aware of another mechanical on the Colony, other than herself and Krenshar. It seemed she'd encountered another inorganic and was curious as to its status. It was, honestly, the first I'd heard of it, which came as something of a surprise. I was generally pretty good about keeping track of the 'unusual entries' to the colony.

She had the impression that this new mechanical had come in on a boat, rather than being the spawn of our remaining Mother Bot. More of a utility model than a combat unit. I was perfectly happy to trust Raids to look into this new machine, though I'd look myself as well and check with others on the ground. The more information we had, the better. If it was just another sophisticated machine, not so much to worry about. If it was another development of the Mother? Different story.

What really surprised me was when Raids asked me to dance. Considering where my head had been for the last week or two, it was a welcome invitation. Also a pleasant surprise to find that Raids was a superbly graceful dancer. I'd seen her in combat before, of course. The four purely mechanical arms, tipped with razor sharp talons, moving like a threshing machine, mowing down anything unfortunate enough to get in their way. She was strong and blindingly fast, but also graceful and lithe.

Maybe it wasn't a surprise that she was an excellent dancer. Though I had to admit, at some level, it was funny that the only person here who'd ask me to dance, with 'Brina gone, was our resident 'reformed' killing machine. In some ways though, it made perfect sense. Raids and I shared a similar situation. Though I'd never entirely understood it, I'd been told that many of the Men and quite a few of the Women found me intimidating. All 41 kilos of me. Understood or not, it did explain why I'd been alone so long before 'Brina. For Raids, the difficulty finding a dance partner was a little easier to understand. Not everyone was comfortable with the idea of a sentient machine, and her origin as a combat model frankly scared a few people.

Fortunate, then, that I wasn't scared of Raids.

If I had been, I'd never have found out how good a dancer she is.

I'd taken a risk in accepting her as one of us. The town council had gone along with me then and, now, without a doubt, I knew it was the right path. Raids wasn't Human. She never would be, and that didn't matter in the least. She was one of us. She'd proven that as I always believed she would.

She was also one hell of a dancer.

There it goes . . .

I'd been waiting for the other shoe. I knew it was coming. I always know that it's coming. It's just the way things are. Especially out here, where we seem to live in an Enhanced Improbability Field. Assuming there actually is such a thing, which there probably isn't. But it makes for a better excuse than a shrug of the shoulders and a "nannari."

So far, the other shoe's come in two thumps. The first a Reaver boat coming in hot and making the Militia earn their keep. Figures that none of the Alliance patrols would be on the ground when it happened. A couple of visitors apparently really stood out during the attack, or so I'm told. Seems the Reavers like to attack when the Alliance isn't around and I'm on the Orbital. Probably a survival advantage in that, seeing as how a platoon of well armed soldiers is bound to be more effective than even our Militia.

A single Reaver boat is more of a nuisance than a real threat. At least to us. Now, if they sent a whole tribe after the colony? Might be ugly. Blackburne was hit by several, at once, and they had to abandon their homes. But every year that gets less and less likely as Entropy works its magic on their numbers. Mindo's experiments aside, the Reavers were a dieing threat. Self regulated into extinction.

The rock strike on the Companion platform was more surprising, and unfortunate. We have the best Navtrac array of any 'small colony' on the Rim, with better navigation and approach sensors than most of the mid-sized colonies, or even Alliance bases, in the region. It's overkill for Hale's Moon, really. Most colonies our size don't even have traffic control, let alone a Navtrac array. But even with all that, there's still blind spots. Not many, but they're there. And, sometimes, rocks small enough to slip through the cracks in our coverage find their way to the surface.

Usually, when one of those rocks, rarely bigger than a Rugby ball by the time it burns up, sneaks through, it impacts somewhere harmless. That would be, roughly, ninety nine and a half percent of Hale's Moon's surface. This time though, we had the bad luck to miss it on the radar and for it to be on a trajectory that hit something fragile. With all the work that had gone into rebuilding the Companion House on that big industrial lifter, it was sad to see it settled half over on its side in a ravine. But one unlucky hit was all it took.

Maybe the 'Verse telling us we weren't supposed to have something nice.

Sad really. With 'Brina gone as long as she's been gone, I was actually considering spending an afternoon there. Maybe an evening. Haley was a wonderful girl, but there's some kind of contact that a Beagle just can't provide - no matter how affectionate she was. Now it looked like the opportunity had passed.

At least Aroha Hannu's volunteering to look into our Terraforming was a potential bright spot. I'd done a lot with the old Westinghouse unit when we'd found it a couple years ago now. Between it and impacting a couple cometary bodies, we'd managed to raise the humidity to the point scrub would grow and some life could survive on the surface. But she'd actually had some specific education in it. Hale's would never be a Green world. That just wasn't in the cards. But maybe, just maybe, we'd be less of a windfall for Blue Sun's 'skin moisturizing products' division.

What was bothering me most, I think, was the situation with x0x0.

I understand more of her arrangement with Major Siamendes than she knows, since I'm privy to more internal Alliance communications than I let on. But that's only part of the issue with her recently. Her nearly coming to blows with the soldier Siamendes sent to collect her not withstanding, her recent behavior has me a bit worried.

It's been obvious for a while that x0x0's not entirely stable. Her brother's death was an obvious blow, but there've been other things that don't make a lot of sense. What is her real relationship with Krenshar? How does Blue fit into her puzzle? Lily? AuroraBlue? Somehow, all those threads tie back to x0x0, but none of the links are clear. Yes, Blue was one of x0x0's projects much like Nora was one of mine. But Nora had never had an agenda.

It seemed that on some level x0x0 was a Reader. There were a few, I knew. I'd dealt with a couple of them before I'd 'retired' the first time. They were all mad to one degree or another, and x0x0 sometimes showed the same traits. I could still remember what the subject at the training center had said to me - "The others. So much noise. Always loud. So loud. But you, no. Quiet. You whisper." Does x0x0 listen to my whispers?

Does Blue?

She's an enigma. Sometimes I think I understand her. Other times I think she's trying to play me. Which, honestly, probably means she is. But there are still things I'd protect her from, or at least try to. I'd called Silvermane before Siamende's soldier left with x0x0. Just a heads up, and request to keep me in the loop. Cory would put things through the proper channels as she always did and I would be read into the link.

The question though was not whether I was protecting x0x0 from the Alliance. But whether I was protecting the Alliance from her.

The other shoe

Things have been unusually settled now for several weeks. With the exception of a new bar opening, down in one of the old dug out storage areas under town, and some changes to some store fronts, it's been almost unsettlingly quiet. Even some of the locals have mentioned it. They're not so much angry with the ongoing Alliance influence, as confused by it.

With things so settled, why are they still here?

Silvermane tells me it's the same on the other colonies in her patrol space. No word from the Brass. No word from Parliament. Just wheels within wheels grinding onward for no discernible reason. My own contacts are either completely in the dark, or being very careful with that they're saying. Rather disconcerting, actually.

I'm in a position where I have the authorization and resources to know what's going on. For the moment though, I'm coming up empty. I'll have to bring more resources to bare but it will take time. Strangely, time is what we seem to have an abundance of now.

Even with the Alliance in power, the town seems to be doing well. The mines are operating smoothly, though Blue Sun "reclaiming" the Destiny compound has changed the face of the colony in some ways. Krenshar's 'Replicant order' has a greatly subdued presence, and many of Destiny's 'resident' population is having to face life under new management.

Not that they were ever as independent as they presumed. Their compound had always existed at Blue Sun's convenience, and Blue Sun's presence was with the blessing and ongoing good will of the town council. And the Town itself has, for a long time, at least tried to stay under the Alliance's radar - and to cooperate when it came down to it.

There was always the simple fact that a cruiser had more people sweeping the decks than we had colonists. If they'd wanted to destroy us, they could have. Our resistance would have been futile at best. Sure, some of our number could have escaped into the desert. But to what end? Hale's Moon didn't have the biosphere to support long term survival without support. It would have been for us as it had been for that Loyalist unit: a slow death from exposure.

Thing was, it seemed less and less like it would ever come to that. The opening of a new bar spoke to an odd sort of stability. Though, given the location, tucked under ground as it is, I suspect it caters to a less than savory clientele. That, in spite of the pleasant facade of its proprietor.

I'd keep an eye on him and his customers. I didn't actually mind having such a place in our midst. It served as a contrast to Firefly's and the small bar Sobi was arranging on the Orbital. A lot of business got done in bars, and the kind of business that got done in bars tucked away underground was often the sort of business that Spooks took an interest in.

So, rather than being put off by the place, I considered it an asset. I'd have to keep up my own 'protect the town' image. More honest attitude than image, really, but still. The bar could become another data point for the work I was doing.

Just wish I wasn't quite so alone doing it.

Do fences really make good neighbors?

x0x0's having a wall built around the Destiny enclave within the confines of Blue Sun's leased land on Hale's Moon. The official story is that Blue Sun's taking full responsibility for the enclave, making it less of an independent sub-colony and more of a corporate back yard. There was an unofficial story as well, of course, but that was mostly kept between x0x0 and myself. The townsfolk didn't need to know what she had planned for the compound. It was probably best they thought the wall was more to keep them out, rather than to keep the residents of the compound in. Would people believe the official story?

Did it matter?

Given what she had planned, there were times I honestly wondered why she didn't just have Blue Sun buy Hale's Moon. Literally. Pay off all the five or six hundred odd residents, give them funds enough, and transportation, so they could set up in at least as nice a setting on another colony out here on the Rim. It wouldn't have been that expensive. At least not when you considered the sheer amount of cash flow through Blue Sun's accounts. Buying off the colony would be cheaper than, say, building an orbital facility from scratch.

Locals who wanted to stay and work for Blue Sun could, just as they already had. Those who wanted out, could get out. In the end, Hale's Moon would go back to being a company world, as it had under Weyland Yutani. Only, this time, instead of a mining colony, the whole thing would become a Blue Sun research facility. Safely air-gapped from the rest of the 'Verse, so no kurutta orokamono would do something mind numbingly stupid.

It would never fly, though. It wasn't a matter of coin. Blue Sun could afford to buy everyone here out. Possibly even including the KHI orbital. No, it was a matter of principle. Some of the newer colonists would walk away, and some of the old timers would be willing to trade their homesteads for a suitable pile of coin. But some of these folks had worked the mines since the Weyland days. They were stubborn. Chance of them taking coin to turn their backs and walk away was slim to none.

Did I entirely approve of what x0x0 had planned? No. I didn't. But it wasn't my place to tell her no. I could, and had, told her my concerns. That was all I could do in any of my several capacities. The wall itself was partially because of my concern for the colonists who'd chosen me to lead them. She'd take suitable precautions and she was keeping me in the loop. At least on some levels, since I didn't actually want to know all the details.

Regardless of outside appearances, my relationship with x0x was deeper, and far more complex, than it appeared. There were ties between us on levels, and through individuals, that defied logic or exposure. And, deep down, I was honestly fond of her. I couldn't foresee how all this was going to turn out. But I would do what I could to make sure it was as good as could be expected for all involved.

Buddha help us.

Let there be coffee

Corrine doesn't look especially happy. We've been having these meetings infrequently since giving her the initial briefing, usually at a coffee house somewhere where we won't really be noticed. Today, she looks mildly annoyed. Not so much at me, it seems, but at life in general. Or, perhaps, more specifically, the continuing situation in her patrol sector.

"Seriously, Seana. Why are my men still playing babysitter? Three colonies now. All of them low population, low risk, low priority. No offense."

I waved off the apology with a faint smile. "None taken." We both know the way of things out here. Hale's Moon, for all intents and purposes, should have been a low risk, low priority, colony on anyone's list. By Rim Districts standards, we should have seen a four man patrol boat maybe once a month. They wouldn't have even ponied up for a hired security force. The colony was just that small.

"There's nothing on Hale's Moon preventing us from giving control of the colony back to your local people. Nothing. Except the Department of State won't sign off. Same with the other two colonies we're shepherding. Liaison's aren't hearing anything from their brass and our's are silent, so we keep patrolling."

I could sympathize, nodding over my coffee, seeing the frustration. Silvermane was a good officer. More level headed and cognizant of the needs of the people in her patrol sector than most. Her original idea for Martial Law had been to dispatch the platoon stationed on the IAV Abraham Sinkov, who was already patrolling our space, and have them work directly with the town elders. They wouldn't have been here to supplant our authority, but to augment it.

It just hadn't worked out that way. She'd been ordered to take over and, rather than directly do so, she'd gotten a Department of State liaison to stand between her people and ours. It was a move I readily concurred with, letting her maintain the working relationship she'd developed with the locals without directly disobeying High Command.

"Wish I knew, Corrine. What's up with the other two colonies? I'd seen the reports, but hadn't dug into them very far." Which was perfectly true. I'd seen the reports in passing, but they hadn't been flagged. Either I'd missed something setting up the Expert System that handled report mediation or there really wasn't anything standing out on those two colonies.

"Even less reason to put boots on the ground on either of those worlds than on Hale's. Both colonies were in the two to five thousand resident's range. One had an earthquake that left a handful of people homeless. Other had a couple of raiders come in back to back and clean out a fair bit of their supplies. Neither of them justified imposing Martial Law, or even a full contingent. Been up to me I'd have sent an Engineering unit to one and a couple of patrol boats to the other. But High Command said full martial law. Best I could do was get another Diplomat to try and smooth things over."

"Curious." Which was, of course, a major understatement. There had to be something deeper going on, but it hadn't popped up high enough to hit Intel's radar. Gut suspicion was someone in Parliament, possibly with Loyalist leanings, setting up for a power play. Either trying to get a heavier influence in the sector, or setting wheels in motion that'd get Colonel Silvemane transferred.

Either way, I'd do what I could. It was to our advantage to keep Silvermane militarily in charge of the sector. She'd earned more respect from the Rim worlders than most Alliance officers could claim. No small feat given the Independent leanings of most folk in the Kalidasa system. That, and I'd come to trust her. At least as far as I could ever trust anyone in her position.

Just wish there was less on my plate. . .

Canine therapy

I remember reading somewhere that Humans and Dogs have been living together for longer than there has been definable civilization. That there have actually been selective pressures on us to understand and work with them, as well as the well known openly selective process we've employed to make Dogs into the myriad breeds they are. We've had forty thousand years of co-evolution. Is it any wonder they've been called Man's Best Friend since long, long, before we left Earth that Was for the worlds of 34 Tauri?

Growing up, we'd had dogs around the estate, but I'd never really considered myself much of a "dog person." Or a cat person, for that matter. I'd never really developed that keen companionship thing so many people felt with their pets. Not that I didn't want to be around animals, or that I had any inherent fear of them. They just weren't part of who I was. At least until much later in life.

When we'd "acquired" Haley from a Reaver boat, I hadn't expected her to become "My" dog. Technically, she was mine in legal responsibility only. She'd quickly been adopted as part town mascot and part 'Favorite of the Younguns' on Hale's. And why not? She was an adorable bundle of energy that the younguns, and some of the adults, would get into arguments about who was next in line to play with her. Some nights, they'd argue about who's homestead she was going to sleep in. But many nights, she slept with us aboard Wave Equation. Either curled up on her pillow or down at our feet. Unless 'Brina was away. In which case she'd flop down on the bed, lay her head on me somewhere she thought was comfortable, and proceed to snore half the night the way only a Beagle can.

I'd come to love her for it.

I still didn't know whether I considered myself a "Dog person" or not. But I had come to appreciate how a little bundle of energy and fur could have a positive influence on a person's life.

On one of 'Brina's trips back out here to visit from Ariel, she'd taken Haley back with her for a spell. She was loving the project she was on with my crazy uncle, but she was missing me as much as I was missing her. Haley, always happy to go anywhere there were treats and affection to be had, was more than happy to go with her. The younguns might grouse a little that we were taking their favorite koinu away, but it let me and 'Brina share a surrogate snuggle or two.

What I hadn't expected was the unannounced return of my dog. Hearing a wave from Cody about a Beagle taking over Milo's lounge, and being quite insistent that people play with her, could only mean one thing. 'Brina'd smuggled Haley back to Hale's Moon on the last transport and left it a surprise, knowing I would find out she was back in short order.

Didn't want to admit just how happy I was to have her back. I'd been missing 'Brina something fierce of late and with Lily and Anna both spending a spell off world, I'd been feeling very much alone. Great view from orbit. But a lonely one. Haley back on world meant I'd at least have some honest, unencumbered, affection. Some badly needed canine therapy.

That was, if I could get her away from the younguns.

Lonesome Ninja

Lily's rodeo seems to have come off without a hitch. Some gentle words with Colonel Silvermane and miss Lionheart before the event assured the Alliance patrols were largely out of sight and were being especially respectful while we had folk visiting. Even the Mercs Lily let "work security" were well behaved. So, all in all, I'd have to call it a success.

Wasn't too much of a surprise that Imrhien and Calina took honors in the Sweetheart of the Rodeo. Or that Nack's dog, Milo, got his share of votes. Haley'd have been jealous, if she cared about such things, or had been here, rather than with 'Brina at Ariel, to care. I missed my Beagle. Don't always miss her snoring, but missed her. Never thought I'd say that about an animal. Bright though she is.

I didn't participate much in the rodeo, except to wander around as Mayor and say hello to more transient folk than we had regular colonists. A couple people suggested I try my hand at the barrel races, seeing as how I've got the build of a jockey. I just don't have the skill of a jockey, or a knack for horses. Beautiful animals in their own way. But as it's been said, they're dangerous at either end and uncomfortable in the middle. No, I'll stick to skimmers, thank you very much.

The awards were done in Firefly's after all the other festivities were over and I decided to stay late and try to enjoy the atmosphere.

It was a mistake.

I'd never been one of the hard core regulars at Firefly's. Maybe why I was never invited to pose for one of their annual calendars. Originally I went because I had friends there, mostly for Imrhien and Lily. It's where I met 'Brina. For a long time I went to Firefly's to dance with her, at least until work intruded and she stopped going. But now, with her on Ariel most of the time, I found myself falling back into a pattern in what was still billed as the "Friendliest Bar in the 'Verse." Sitting off to the side watching other people dance.

It felt so familiar. Lily off joy riding with Ibram in the Sheriff's Department skimmer. Imrhien dancing with one of my friends, Reese in this case. Folk I knew enjoying the evening and each other's company. And me, sitting alone, watching the people swirling around the room having fun.

Oddly, it seemed somehow right to be here again. Part Karma. Part duty. Part being different. I'd come to call this struggling mining colony home, and the people here had long accepted me as one of their own. But times like this brought home the fact that, not for lack of desire or need, I wasn't entirely one of them.

It wasn't that they weren't "my kind of people" either. They were good folk. Some of the best I'd met anywhere in the 'Verse. They were honest, friendly, hard working, and generous. There were a lot of times I found myself wishing I could be more like them. I tried. In a lot of ways, I tried.

But it was like one of those old stories Grandmother had told me. The one about the Dragon who lived as a man in the midst of a small village. The reasons he'd taken Human form and chosen to live with the Village changed with each telling and the lesson Grandmother was trying to teach, but it was always the same story. It was always the same Dragon. Living alone amongst people who didn't know there was a Dragon in their midst.

Through my career, a lot of people had called ma a Ninja. But I wasn't. Not technically. While there were some elements of Ninjitsu in my training, and I was more than capable as a nearly invisible assassin, it wasn't really what I was. Blue had called me a Dragon. The Little Dragon.

It fit.

Why I was here changed with the telling. But it was what I was. I could love this world and the people who called it home, but I would forever be a Dragon in their midst. They could call me their Ninja and I wouldn't object. Their Ninja. Their Dragon.

Social interactions

There are channels, and back channels, and side channels, and most of them seem to converge on my desk. In this case, it wasn't so much a back channel as Bethany Lionheart coming into my office and explaining, in no uncertain terms, what she thought of Mercenaries copping attitude with an Alliance diplomat. She actually had a transcript of the incident, which I found vaguely amusing.

Whoever was leading the unit seemed to have quite an issue with authority. Not a healthy attitude to take when talking to a diplomat who could put your unit permanently out of work, either by a single wave to the Guild, or with the assistance of the regiment of troops she could request, if they turned out to not be Guild. I had to hand it to Lily for trying to intervene. Lionheart could be annoyingly cheerful, to be sure, but part of that was born from self confidence and part was born from confidence in the snipers in the floater twelve hundred meters off.

Threatening a government official as a Merc is just a bad idea in any case. The Alliance uses Mercenary units from time to time and pissing off the deepest pockets in the 'Verse is not the route to a long and happy career.

The stupid, it burns

Attitude no substitute

They've got bigger guns

Though, when I talked to them in person a day or so later, the attitude had changed a bit. So much so that Lily had taken them up on an offer to work security for the Rodeo. Not that we needed outsiders or had much in the budget with which to pay them. Not sure why Lily'd given them the go ahead to stay, but she was usually a surprisingly good judge of character.

We got clear on what I expected as the colony's duly elected leader and as long as they didn't try to pull my chain or give the Alliance any grief, it'd all be shiny.

Still, though, had to wonder what'd brought them here in the first place. Hale's Moon is kind of mixed as far as hiding places go. Being far from the main trade routes means we don't get so much traffic, but it also makes it harder to do business and more conspicuous when you do. Add to that the Alliance and Corporate presence, and the whole saga with the Destiny enclave, and you've got to wonder why a Mercenary unit would ever want to show up here.

I'd keep eyes on them. There were still a lot of things in place that most folk didn't know about, specifically for situations like this one.

The thing on my mind more than the Mercs was what Krenshar was doing for the Old Sadist, Niska, and why AuroraBlue was with him rather than Cody. She was safe with Kren. Sort of. Unless Sadistic Asshole decided to do something deceitful. And stupid. Wouldn't be outside his usual mode of operation to kidnap a child to try and hasten some work he'd hired out. Thing is, kidnapping that particular child would bring down the kind of wrath he'd been spared his whole career.

Was probably nothing. Kren did what Kren did and sometimes didn't worry too much about the rightness or wrongness of the work. Tiny Dragon could take care of herself better than most adults I knew. But whenever Niska was involved, I had to confess to a sudden desire to do violence upon an old man who desperately needed to have some violence done to him.

Bit of payback for his victims.

Karma coming full circle.

Worry about it later. It was time to go show the colors and watch other people having fun.

So, what will the 'Verse send our way next?

First, it was a low impact Alliance occupation and the, admittedly lax, imposition of Martial Law on our little slice of Heaven. Then it was someone hiring some freelance Spooks to tap into our local communications network. The a core-based Bounty Hunter out looking for someone seen roughly in our parts. Now, a Mercenary team getting some down time over in Krenshar's compound. Coincidence? Suuuure, it is.

There's an old saying: First time's an accident. Second time's a coincidence. Third time is enemy action. There's no fourth time listed in the old saying, though I would tender 'Fourth time is a boot to the head.' Though, given the nature of things out here on the Rim, it could all just be filed under "Une journée de merde au paradis."

Mercenaries, much like Bounty Hunters, have their place. Most of them, the professionals anyway, are members of the Mercenaries Guild and can actually be trusted to do the job they've been hired to do. These guys? No idea. Though it was something I could look into easy enough. My biggest concern was how the 1st Marine Raiders would react to having a Squad strength mercenary unit on Hale's while the moon was under Martial Law.

If they were here to just make a show of being here, or were just in transit somewhere between jobs, the worst we'd probably have to deal with was a bar room brawl in Fook's or Firefly's. If they were here because someone in Destiny hired them to stand up to the Alliance, it could get very ugly very quickly. Our own battle-hardened militia wouldn't last half an hour against the 1st. A single squad, no matter how well armed, would barely know what hit them if they turned to make a stand.

More important was the question of who hired them? Assuming they'd been hired. Destiny wasn't exactly a wealthy enclave and a mercenary unit wasn't exactly cheap. Krenshar wouldn't bother with mercs. One of his followers? Possible. Just not something I was going to worry about for a little while. If they get out of line, I'm sure I'll hear about it. Hopefully, before tempers flare and someone starts shooting. Be just what we need to make the whole situation worse.

At least the efforts to free Cody's boat from impound were going to plan. A couple of favors, a couple of whispers in the right ears, and he'd have his boat back in a matter of days. Which would make him happy, which would make my little girls happy, which makes me happy.

All in all, a good thing.

Attitudes

I've never been a big fan of Bounty Hunters. While it could be argued they provide a valuable service, assisting law enforcement to apprehend dangerous fugitives in situations where they lack resources, the fact of the matter is that Bounty Hunting is, ultimately, trading in Human misery. While some of the folk drawn to the profession are actually of a mindset where they believe they're doing right, many of them are in it strictly for the money and there are some who, well, let's say they have a long way to go before being considered respectable.

The ones I find most annoying, at least on a professional level, are the ones who think they're above the law. Specifically the local law. Yes, a local sheriff doesn't have jurisdiction in a District, or System, case. But they are still the law. And Bounty Hunters, any Bounty Hunters, are operating on the fringe of the law, and some of what they do is downright criminal. Which makes me more than a bit curious when one shows up on Hale's.

Since the Alliance came in and changed things up a bit with their Martial Law edict, our local Sheriff's department hasn't exactly been on top of their game. I don't think any of us have. While having them here is actually beneficial to my "other" job, it's caused a bit of friction in my official capacity as the colony's erstwhile leader.

But a Core-based bounty hunter showing up here, just a few days after letting Max and Jeff off world, just strikes me as being a bit of a strange coincidence. Add too it an attitude of "the Alliance keeps out of my way" and you just know something's going to end poorly for someone. Things being what they are, my bet is it being the guy who doesn't have a Cruiser on station with a Regiment of Marines feeling the pain. But that's just me.

Polite enough, though he seemed rather insistent on blowing off my advice to check in with our Sheriff's office. I suppose it had something to do with the 'out of my way' attitude. After all, if you don't respect the military, why would you respect the local Sheriff? Not like he'd actually know the depths of skill some of the folk out here bring to the table.

I'd keep an eye on him. Whether his bounty was legit or not, we'd worry about later. But I knew the attitudes of both local law enforcement and the Alliance command. Could just imagine Silvermane's reaction to some bounty hunter telling her to stay out of his way, let along Gallagher or Lily's.

Ultimately, though, it wasn't my worry. I'd tell Lionheart about it and let her pass it on up the food chain. They'd made it her job, and I really didn't intend to let her slack at it.

Can't stop the signal

Intelligence boils down to three distinct parts. Gathering information. Analyzing information. And acting on information. It doesn't matter what kind of Intel you're working with, it all comes down to those three fundamental parts.

Now, each of those parts was it's own speciality with its own paradigms, assumptions, techniques, what have you. And each of those specialties had its own sub-specialties. Folk who focused on photo-reconnaissance, for example, had a different set of operating parameters than the Signals Intelligence guys.

Most of my Intel career was spent in the first and last categories. Either gathering Intel or acting on it. Analyzing it was never my speciality, but it wasn't outside the scope of my skills. In the immediate situation, I would be putting all three aspects of Intelligence work into play.

Whoever hired M&J Communications to jack into out communications net was, at the very least, well funded. These guys had probably pulled down more for this job than any of the mining families here would see in a year. That was understating it. Hiring specialists of that caliber wasn't cheap, which meant they were willing to spend a good deal extra to make sure the job was done correctly.

In fact, if it hadn't been for Genni's subtle paranoia, possibly a result of working for me for as long as she has, we'd never have spotted it. Chances are I wouldn't have caught their taps even if I'd looked right at them. Taps. Multiple. Which was where the counter-intelligence operation would be able to start.

I'd allowed the Odokeshibai Twins to finish their work for several reasons, but, ultimately, it came down to two. The first: not wanting to get them killed. The second: wanting to know who'd hired them and why. By waiting 12 hours or so to "find and remove" the first tap, I'd give them a bit of cover in case it got back to their employer that they'd been seen talking to me. They placed multiple taps because they expected at least one of them to fail or be found. By leaving the other taps in place, I'd be able to feed information back up the pipe and see where it popped out.

There was always a bit of "They know that we know that they know that we think they think we're onto them" in this sort of thing, but that's where carefully crafted information came into play. All of the most important stuff was encrypted anyway, and, contrary to some of the Cortex vids, cracking encryption wasn't as easy as "Try a G cypher" on the data. Given that reality, they were probably more interested in traffic analysis than content: seeing who's talking to who, rather than what they're saying.

Still. For the time being, or until I found out who it was and what they were after, I'd leave at least one of the taps in place. Just have to arrange lunch with x0x0 and gently remind her that it'd really be best to make sure she's encrypting all the important stuff. That, and reroute some of my own classified traffic through another pipe...

No room for Paladins

It's been said that, at some levels, Intel is a small and incestuous community. In some ways, and in some specific circles, it actually is. But overall, the reality is much different. Intel covers such a broad range of skills, in such a broad range of areas, that the community is considerably larger than most people even realize. Even most spooks don't realize how large it is. There are so many different organizations, doing so many different things, there simply aren't enough trained operatives in the 'Verse to do it all. At least not officially.

And therein lies the rub. With the Alliance already hiring contract firms to perform security duties on outlying worlds, is it really any wonder that they fill the gaps in Intel coverage with contractors? Sometimes, in cases where very specialized skills are needed, Contractors are the only viable option. Not to mention their versatility and usefulness in cases where you simply don't want to risk a valuable asset.

M&J Communications was one such specialized asset. Two, really, since they were a two man operation. I'd used their services before years ago, and they were very, very, good at what they did. Two of the best, in fact. There were rumors that the Intelligence Ministry in charge of Signals Intelligence let them run free because they wanted to see what these guys would come up with next. Though, on a personal level, I couldn't help but think they wouldn't have been out of place in some sort of comic 'Buddy show' on the Cortex. Tuesday nights. At 2330. After the interview and faux news shows were over.

Sitting in the back corner of Fook Yoo's near the Starstruck's nook, I had to suppress a bit of amusement at their reactions. While they both traveled armed and were half way decent shots, the chances of them trying to shoot their way out of this situation were slim to none. They were busted. They knew they were busted. They knew they were, more or less, at my mercy both professionally and literally in this situation. But it didn't seem to stop them from keeping a sense of humor about it.

"Chyfrgolla, mae hi dal yn boeth!"

"Mae hi, ond gallai hi ladd ein dau. Felly gadw'n oer."

Now, unlike Uncle Sobi, I was never really fluent in Welsh. But from their inflection it seemed a compliment, though one neither especially wanted to admit to.

"Welsh? I'm a bit rusty. But I'll remember for later." I said amusedly over my coffee at Starstrucks to a reaction of embarrassed admission. "Now, seriously. What brings you to our little slice of Heaven? I know you therefor, I have a fairly good idea already. But, for the record, I'd like to hear it from you."

They looked between each other for a few moments, probably trying to remember the cover story they'd concocted in case they got caught. At this point I wasn't even really interrogating them. I could, even if it wasn't my specialty. But I would learn more from just talking to these two than I would be playing interrogator. In fact, the more force I applied, figuratively or literally, the more likely they were to simply tell me what they thought I wanted to hear rather than the facts I was after.

After another few moments of nervous deliberation, Jeff spoke up. "They asked us to splice into the main trunk. Grab the relay from the colony's feed and Blue Sun's uplink. Standard encrypted piggyback relay. Nothing even really complicated. Just wanted us to be in and out and not get caught."

"And the contract, Jeffrey? Who sent you?"

The two techies looked at each other a moment, but Jeff didn't really hesitate before continuing. "Wish I could tell you. Really do. Contract came through one of our blind drops. Had all the instructions and background. Though they kinda left out the fact that you would be here. Usual pay scale. Had specifics on what communications they wanted. All we've got are the routing ID's and the comms codes they wanted us to use for the uplink."

I raised an eyebrow, starting to speak but Max interrupted.

"Buddha's our witness, Major. Simple relay splice. If we'd actually done our homework and seen this was your world, we'd have bailed on the contract."

Max was a pain in the ass sometimes, to be sure, but I knew them from precious work and it was almost certain they were telling the truth. Given our history, it was likely they were more afraid of what I would do to them for intruding in my space than they were of the anonymous employer.

"Very well. Though it leaves me with a bit of a conundrum. However, I do see a solution to our mutual problem. So, if you two would like to continue along the path to a long and healthy life, here's what we're going to do. . . "

Oh yes. A solution does seem quite vivid here . . .

Radio Chaos

Covert operations covers a broad range of endeavors, with an equally broad range of techniques used to maintain the covert nature of said operation. While some people would maintain that covert ops usually involved sneaking around in the dark, they would only be seeing part of the picture. Which, of course, was the entire point.

Sometimes covert meant hiding in plain sight. An operative who looks like they belong where they are, doing what they're doing, is usually going to be over-looked. Usually. Sometimes though, an observant local sees through the disguise. In which case an operative may need to scramble to either hold onto their cover, back out gracefully, or, in extreme cases, eliminate the unfortunate observer.

When Genni Foxtrot called and said "Hey, Boss, I thought we handled all the local comms infrastructure ourselves. Did you call someone at VerseTel to work on the relays?" I knew something had to be up. While it was entirely possible that our "Benevolent overlords" had done exactly that, it was much more likely that someone was messing about where they shouldn't. Over the time I'd been here, I'd overseen quite a bit of the comms system myself. It was hardened to a standard that was, honestly, far beyond the needs of a Rim colony. Which was how I liked it.

There were several communications trunks that ran through the colony. Much of it was wireless, in one form or another, but the main infrastructure and relays ran over fiber optic lines that laced through lined tunnels bored through the rock. The official reason was the difference in bandwidth we got from the fiber, where the other, not openly admitted, official reason was that fiber was a lot more secure.

Most places, if you saw a skiff landed next to a comms junction pit with "VerseTel" markings on it, you wouldn't bat an eye. Especially if the two guys working in the pit were dressed the part and looked like they knew what they were doing. Even on Hale's, where we didn't get a lot of outsiders doing work, it didn't look out of place. So seeing a skiff with "M&J Communications - Contract services to VerseTel Cortex Services" over near our main comms junction didn't raise suspicion until Genni spotted it and called me. And for me, it was suspicious.

I watched the pair of techs working out of the skiff for a full ten minutes before I wandered over. They looked the part. Right tools. Right stance. Right attitude. Everything fit neatly into place. "Good eve, gentlemen. Doing a bit of maintenance, are we?" I said sweetly from a carefully judged distance.

"Evenin', Ma'am, we're just taking care of some . . ." he started before looking up, letting the words trail off as the color drained from his features. He recognized me, giving his partner in the pit a firm nudge, who also looked up to let out a soft "Zaogao" under his breath.

"Max, Jeffrey, what brings you to my little slice of heaven?"

The answer, I was sure, would be entertaining.