Topic: The (theoretical) War Crimes of Jimmy Chu (Read 47083 times)

Red Pins · « **Reply #60 on:** March 10, 2021, 11:16:16 AM »

^^^^^^^^^^^^

At least they have cake, he thought. Love this icing.

The welcoming party at the Compound had signs indicative of some of the best staff parties he had attended at NAIS; laughing staff, lots of movement between social groups and no few full-on arguments and debates around the coffee urns. One particularly aggressive set of researchers had apparently even brought their pads and spreadsheets to the party.

Of course, the gathering prompted one of the annoying responsibilities of the guest of honor; the speech. He felt he had navigated the line fairly well with a few of the old chestnuts everyone who had ever attended meetings like these knew well, but couldn’t resist throwing a wrench into the plans of some of the smug-looking support staff to skate through the change in administrations with cherished prerogatives intact by announcing budget cuts to some of the moribund programs to ‘encourage innovation’.

Satisfied, he ended the gathering by cutting himself a piece of cake – A corner, of course! - before handing the rest of the work off to Bob - Good ol’ Bob! – before following Mrs. Moseby to his official offices, where he met the rest of the staff who hadn’t transferred to Yallow with him and took the rest of the morning to deal with some of the minor Caste and Council concerns that hadn’t followed him on his disastrous trip before heading home to his new apartment in the Compound.

The short walk drove home the need for more activity quite well; two floors up by elevator (Fire doors alarmed due to security concerns), down a hallway and around a corner (Also due to security concerns), and he was home.

The ‘apartment’ was nearer to a copy of the Yallow office than he would have preferred, full of ‘style’ and ‘luxury’ but short on ‘comfortable’. At least the kitchen had the functional table and chairs from his old apartment, and he gratefully dumped the bag of clothes and medicine out to take more of the potent analgesics and spare himself the rest of the headache still doggedly following him. Opening boxes labelled ‘kitchen’ at random, he found coffee, mugs and snacks taken from his apartment and brought here, along with a note from Lunette thanking him for the reference.

No more attractive young ladies to enjoy talking to, he mused. Putting coffee on to brew, he begin looking into the different rooms where he found the rest of his meagre possessions still packed into boxes, and chose the smallest of the spare rooms for some kind of home gym equipment to be decided later.

Unfortunately, the stream of paperwork never ended, and besides reserving the afternoon and evening to square things away he would be busy playing catch-up in the office as quickly as possible. Glumly, he began considering the likelihood of being required to step in as responsible Scientists began acting like feuding children. Being in the same building was going to require somebody outside of his administration with the authority to deal with these issues if he wasn’t going to have to deal with them, and taking one of the scratch pads and pen he made a note to inquire who or what had been handling those issues while he had been staying at the Yallow offices.

No point re-inventing the wheel, after all.

He spent the rest of the evening making notes and using the time to empty boxes. In the end, the room still echoed, but the rudiments of life were ready to use and after a basic meal he settled down to unpack the bookshelf and get ready for bed. Unpacking his collection brought back some happy memories, and he found himself enjoying finding some of his favorites to put aside and read once again until stumbling across the one that had caused the whole issue to begin with.

Reminiscing about the well-worn storyline made him start to consider what he might come up with to satisfy the Khan if the issue should come up again – And show up that bitch, Cynthia – and he spent a few minutes after finishing with the books at the table with a snack to outline a few ideas before turning in for the night with the last of the analgesics and making double sure the alarm was set properly.

Another day, another donut. Hmm. Donut. No – lose a few pounds, first. Then donuts, plural.

He slept fitfully, his dreams alternating between donut-shaped Scientists and Carrot-shaped solders arguing about breakfast and nightmares of the psychosis he had experienced aboard the Kraken, finally giving up and starting his morning routine.

I wonder how Ciara is doing?

^^^^^^^^^^^^

At least we’ll be on time for the meeting, Jeremy thought moodily. Things had rapidly gotten worse since moving back to the Wake offices. Like the child pushing a finger in the dike, he had become aware of a growing number of problems within the Caste. Business-as-usual had continued, despite his best intentions, and a monumental shake-up had been required to start over with a clean slate.

Small facilities in enclaves outside the system had been dealt with first; computer specialists, Inspector Generals and KPA officers investigated and dealt with infractions, secured computer nets and facilities and moved on. Gradually rumors of the purge began to circulate, but they had managed to identify most of the troublemakers, and the KPA had been busy booking the worst of them for violating Clan and Federal laws. There weren’t too many of their own, but Scientist resources were now firmly back under control of the Caste.

Now, all he had to do was deal with the fallout.

Takiro · « **Reply #61 on:** March 10, 2021, 07:25:45 PM »

Good to see you back posting!

Red Pins · « **Reply #62 on:** March 12, 2021, 04:18:03 PM »

I'm hoping somebody will comment - I'm on three forums - *crickets*. I'm just trying to have all three at the same point in the story now, although the biggest annoyance is transferring the Italiacs and CJing the scene interrupts.

Red Pins · « **Reply #63 on:** March 12, 2021, 04:28:04 PM »

The heads of the Clan Council seemed torn between arguing that he wasn’t being fair conserving his resources and arguing that the Clan’s resources should be shared freely among the Castes. So far, communism was taking a back seat to capitalism quite nicely, although they were starting to abandon the argument entirely to complain about the lack of results for the Clan’s investment.

“Khan Fernandez,” he began. You Weasel. “I’ve spent less than a year in the Cluster as a whole, roughly eight months of that as your Chief Scientist. Change doesn’t happen overnight. I assure you I’m-“

“Dr. Chu, I’m-“

“Chief Scientist, Khan Fernandez. I’m-“

“Don’t you dare interrupt me-“

“Then don’t interrupt me, sir. Do I have to explain why you won’t see results for at least another six months, minimum?”

The diminutive Khan leaned back, clearly annoyed he had found someone not willing to sit stoically through his list of demands but aware the rest of the Castes wouldn’t set an unfortunate precedent and support him.

“Please do,” he said evenly.

“Thank you, sir,” Jeremy replied in the same relaxed tone he had used throughout the meeting. “First of all, I was operating under several misunderstandings on the role of ‘Chief Scientist’, sir.”

Meeting the Khan’s eyes, he continued. “I was accidentally pulled from my Cluster Immigration Briefings for my placement interview early,” he began. Because you wanted to beat the competition, you Weasel. It never hurt to put things in perspective, after all.

“In the meantime, I’ve cancelled or suspended projects that were unable to move forward due to a lack of expertise, reduced the resource cost of the Caste by cancelling unapproved spending and administrative losses and tried to focus on those very areas you’re demanding results of before realizing those Scientists most qualified to do the research are operating equipment to support growth in the other Castes. Behind the scenes, Chief Technician Shea and I are still working to train Technicians in related fields to take over those positions while remaining available in case of difficulty.”

“In Warrior terms, I suppose I’ve gotten your tech ready to install replacement parts, sir. Your parts still have to be designed, manufactured and shipped, however.”

“And when will I start to see those parts?”

“Sir, the very basic steps of development are theory, proof of concept, prototype and production. With initial funding for theoretical work coming from Caste resources, we’ve begun the development cycle of several new projects and started to prove the concepts involved will work as intended without accidental oversights to cause problems down the road.”

“Such as?”

Jeremy was taken aback a little as The Weasel leaned forward, obviously intent on what the Warrior Caste might benefit from.

“Sir, my advisors-“

“We’re paying for these developments. I want to know what you’re working on!”

Ah. Forgotten that you aren’t playing in the sandbox anymore, have you?

“Sir – You’re specifically asking about weapons, aren’t you?” Jeremy asked. “I can’t tell you.”

“What?!” exclaimed The Weasel, jumping out of his seat. “I’m the Khan!”

“You’re a head of state, sir. According to Abthactor Paulson,” Jeremy said, turning behind him to point out the balding, middle-aged man behind him. At the mention of his name, the Abthactor quickly stood up. “You’re out of the direct military chain of command, and as the acting head of the Warrior Caste your briefings are legally approved by and come from the saKhan, sir. Not to mention that the heads of the Castes have no need to know these things, either.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^

*Author’s Note:

Ok, ‘Abthactors’ is a complicated concept.

‘Abthactor’ is a combination of two words; ‘Abtakha’ (“A Warrior captured but then accepted into his new Clan as a Warrior.”) and ‘Contractor’. An ‘Abthactor’ can be a Clan, a Clansman working in a different job for his Clan, or a member of the Civil Government working for a Clan.

• Clan A needs a Jumpship. They hire an ‘Abthactor’ – another Clan – to work for them for a set price and time rather than fighting a Trial.
•‘Abthactor Paulson’ is a serving member of the Laborer Caste. He was a lawyer back in the Taurian Concordat and paid someone (another ‘Abthactor’ or law school) to teach him and passed the Civil Government’s Bar Exam to earn a license to practice law in the Cluster. He sells legal advice to clients and represents them.
•A Civil Government Citizen (a legal term, like ‘Clansman’) drives a truckload of turnips to the spaceport where the Merchant that bought them pays him. He might be an ‘Abthactor’ to the Merchant, the Clan’s Merchant Caste, or the Clan as a whole. As long as he gets paid, I doubt he cares.

The New Clans don’t settle disputes over interpretations of contracts, legal documents etc. brought to Civil Government, Clan or Federal authorities with Trials. They have to be resolved and the general consensus is that Trials or Circles of Equals are an absurd way to settle things and that strong Clans would take advantage of weaker ones to benefit themselves.

You can consider them part-time jobs for the most part, although if they get too successful they may be promoted into a different Caste to perform that job for the Clan, for less money. In this case ‘Abthactor Paulson’ could find himself looking for work in a warehouse replacing people on holiday or injured if he found himself too successful.

Red Pins · « **Reply #64 on:** March 15, 2021, 02:22:49 AM »

^^^^^^^^^^^^

He doesn’t look happy about that. Jeremy quickly changed the subject. “In general terms, I’ve started looking at possibilities to change the circumstances of Factor van der Waal’s predicament.”

Predictably, The Bitch immediately interjected as the Khan returned to his seat. “Why haven’t we been consulted on this?”

Smiling he turned to her and said, “Because you don’t have experience with K-F theory, engineering, astrophysics or any of the related fields we need to check to make sure we can potentially move on to the other steps, Factor. When we determine whether or not something can move to the prototype design, we’ll call you.”

The rest of the table fell silent for a second before the Khan piped up, “How much of this is based on that science fiction you bragged about at your first Quarterly meeting?”

Without twitching an eyebrow, Jeremy lied outright. “Roughly half, Khan Fernandez. Although I expect only a couple to enter the prototype phase.”

“And when will we learn more about these projects?”

Jeremy shrugged. “That’s between you and the saKhan, Khan Fernandez.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^

The saKhan’s waiting room was more to Jeremy’s taste than he had thought it would be. Clearly, the décor had been inherited rather than designed to project a personality of its own. The uniformed secretary at one of the standard-issue desks that filled the offices of the Scientist Caste certainly fulfilled his expectation of a military version of Mrs. Moseby, covered in stubble and prematurely grey and balding but clearly the master of his domain every bit as much as his own secretary.

So much for, ‘Let’s you and him fight’, Jeremy thought moodily. The whole idea was to get myself out of this mess. Now, if only this man is as reasonable, I might be able to work with him rather than at cross-purposes. It would be nice not to have to measure responsibilities before every meeting.

The fact that the occupant was clearly busy doing his job rather than self-important enough to make him wait as a petty bureaucratic tactic was a good sign, as the sudden stream of uniformed men from what he assumed was a conference room confirmed that whatever the saKhan was, at least he was prompt. As the saKhan’s secretary picked up and put the phone back down immediately to usher him through the door behind him, Jeremy felt the first twinges of apprehension as his security team remained in the outer office.

Jeremy recognized the lanky saKhan, formerly Galaxy Commander Kowalski, walking across the small office through an adjoining door just beginning to close as he came in, and he realized he had no idea how to greet the man now standing behind his desk to offer his hand in welcome.

“Chief Scientist Chu.”

“SaKhan Kowalski,” he said as he continued across the office to lean over the desk and shake his hand in welcome. “I beg your pardon, I’m not sure of the formalities here.”

“Since we’re alone, none. I imagine neither of us really needs to be reminded of our rank. Call me Simon.” Seating himself behind the desk, he busied himself clearing the desktop for a few seconds.

“Jimmy, then.” Jeremy said as he passed over the small security case he had brought with him.

Now familiar with the precautions the New Clans took to ensure data security, he breathed a small sigh of relief as the saKhan expertly disarmed the small explosive device designed to destroy the contents if it was lost or damaged. With a grin at his relief, the saKhan removed the small data storage device and began to access it through the electronics in his desk before beginning to read intently.

Jeremy leaned back in the chair, content to wait. As the saKhan began clearly shifting through files and notes, a slight frown became more and more noticeable until he eventually removed and replaced the device back in the case, rearming it and putting it at the edge of the desk in front of him to lean back in turn.

“So,” the man said finally. “That’s it? No progress on these except for, ‘Research still ongoing’? I could have just put a new date on the minutes of the last meeting and saved us both the trouble.”

Sitting up and taking back the security case before leaning back again and resting it on his leg, Jeremy nodded.

“That’s what happens when people with the training to do the research are on a production line, saKhan. These,” he said as he lifted the case slightly to indicate the files within it. “Are people asked to pick up the slack and make proposals based on what they experience at their level. To them, the Prometheus Database must have all the answers, so that’s what most of them propose.”

Red Pins · « **Reply #65 on:** April 16, 2021, 02:31:00 PM »

Sorry for the wait, wanted to catch up on other forums to this point. I'm busy at work with spring and the houses and dog and stuff, so writing is slowing down, but its almost finished.

Red Pins · « **Reply #66 on:** April 16, 2021, 02:41:43 PM »

Shrugging his shoulders, he continued. “The Caste won’t be doing ‘science’ anytime soon, until we change the mindset and culture they’ve been placed in.”

Reaching for an inside pocket of his suit, he brought out another of the small devices and leaned forward to put it on the edge of the desk.

“My assistant and I have gone through the last twenty-or-so years of rejected proposals and requests. These are the cheapest, most likely beneficial and most likely to succeed from what we can tell so far, so these will probably be submitted for the next budget year if I manage to solve some of the issues behind the scenes.”

Watching as the saKhan repeated the process of examining the information, he continued.

“For now, our best angle is to leverage our involvement with the IlKhan’s JDP and federal facilities and borrow their expertise to focus on subjects that benefit us like the AR-15 system the Khan is so interested in.”

“Can you present these in a different format?”

“I could,” Jeremy confirmed. “But one of the problems I just dealt with in these last couple of months were compromised computer systems and nets. I’m going to ensure future projects are kept solely in isolated, scrambled or encrypted systems and nets with restricted physical access granted on a need-to-know basis, but unless the other Castes are willing to accept the need for security and adopt similar measures – which seems unlikely – this is how it’s got to be, at least for now.”

“These are so thoroughly edited I can’t really understand them.” Passing back the device he leaned back in his chair. “What can you tell me?”

“That I’m still trying to get organized,” Jeremy said, waving both hands in front of him. “I have ideas, but need the authority and resources to examine them. So far, the most interesting from a military viewpoint would be some kind of planetary bombardment system accelerating a projectile to a significant fraction of C before impact. The most expensive but potentially rewarding would involve multiple Jump probes to re-examine what we know about hyperspace and K-F theory.”

Silence interposed itself, as an aide knocked before entering with a security pad he placed on the desk.

“I can’t say I envy you,” the saKhan said finally, as the aide left and closed the door behind him. “The Khan wants results.”

Shrugging in the chair, Jeremy came to his feet in front of the desk. “The Khan’s going to be disappointed, I’m afraid. This is what happens when something you thought you didn’t need atrophies from disuse. I’m trying to get the Caste back on its feet and contribute, but it’s not going to be overnight.”

Standing behind the desk, the saKhan nodded in understanding and the two shook hands again.

“I can come to the Compound for the next briefing, if that’s acceptable.”

Takiro · « **Reply #67 on:** April 16, 2021, 03:10:04 PM »

Quote from: Red Pins on April 16, 2021, 02:31:00 PM

Sorry for the wait, wanted to catch up on other forums to this point. I'm busy at work with spring and the houses and dog and stuff, so writing is slowing down, but its almost finished.

I hear that, keep up the good writing!

Red Pins · « **Reply #68 on:** April 19, 2021, 02:31:25 PM »

This is so annoying!

Somehow I managed to screw up the Chapters again! 6-8 pages of text and a new Chapter? I was trying for about 5,000 words per Chapter and bumbled it somehow. Got to watch that for next time.

Anyway, there's a stub about 6 lines long before the end of the Chapter, and the beginning of the new one, which I misnumbered somehow, as well.

Red Pins · « **Reply #69 on:** April 19, 2021, 02:32:41 PM »

Jeremy nodded. “I’ll have more for you then, I hope.”

The saKhan nodded appreciably. “The Khan will try to hold you to that, Jimmy,” he warned as Jeremy turned to walk from the office.

“I know,” Jeremy admitted, turning back to face him with a hand on the knob. “But it’s out of my hands. See you at the next meeting.”

<Chapter 6>

The truly alarming shade of red wasn’t his only warning, but it was certainly impressive. I wonder what the man’s blood pressure looks like?

It turned out Dr. Szech, still a spritely old geezer, was not in favor of ‘volunteering’ to provide the KPA with information on the massive hole left in the Caste’s budget during his administration. Watching him shake and yank the short chains restraining him to a table in some kind of interrogation room of unadorned concrete blocks in a shade of pastel pink he associated with little girls’ frilly dresses, he could only wonder who was going to eventually benefit from the man’s secret retirement funds.

The way the man’s eyes rolled up as he slumped and slammed his head on the side of the table made Jeremy wince in commiseration, but as he continued to fall off the bench only to be restrained from falling to the ground by the shackles at his wrists he began to wonder how much longer it was going to take for his jailers to respond. Finally, he shrugged and turned off the recording without seeing anyone.

Delightful.

Practically speaking, this should have no impact on this year’s budget negotiations. Realistically, he wasn’t looking forward to having the forensic bean-counters combing through the Caste’s finances. Fortunately, his arrival in the Cluster and subsequent job offer had short-circuited whatever arrangements Dr. Szech had made, and the audit he had authorized the first day of his administration hadn’t shown any suspicious activity.

Thanks again, Professor.

Ideally… It would be nice to get some of that money back. I doubt it, though. If the man didn’t hide it well enough, the bankers will. Probably.

It was generally accepted that the Cluster’s bankers and lawyers were apex predators of their type, immigrating from across human space and bringing a level of mindless ferocity and morally destitute behavior he would have expected of career criminals and exceptionally despicable pirates.

Using his computer to glance at the rest of the file forwarded to the Council by the KPA, all he could do was shrug and turn it off to start dealing with the consequences.

They are NOT going to see this year’s budget outlays, Jeremy thought grimly. Or anything more recent than last year’s.

It wasn’t like they could pin anything substantial on his administration, after all. Besides authorizing small expenses to jump-start the development process and institute a long-overdue policy of physical fitness, the Caste’s finances were fairly uncomplicated and overseen by the Caste’s legal and financial advisors. He had even gone to the added expense of paying a third-party Abthactor personal legal consultant to ensure he was covered for the rare Abthactor contracts he had taken on to fill some of the free time he was saddled with.

So far, the only things he had come out ahead on was the rare opportunity to consult his technical library and the bicycle he had purchased with the commission from his first contract to comply with his administration’s new policy.

Beats reporting for mandatory PT with the fatties and diet counselling on top of that, he consoled himself. Ciara seems to approve. She was dropping into the gravity well for her monthly physical conditioning period this week, too.

Bob and Mrs. Moseby had been surprised at the way Ciara had turned up to offer to take him out for lunch the first time – the two had traded knowing glances and smirks as he stumbled through greetings and introductions to the staff before watching them form tight knots at tables in the lunch room that signified the launch of impending rumors and gossip as he dashed out of the office to join her at one of the small restaurants nearby.

Bob at least had been adequately dealt with; as former assistant to Dr. Szech, he was perfect to assist and work with the growing team of bean-counters assigned to the audit. I wonder if I should assign a suicide watch?

Mrs. Moseby was not dealt with so easily, however. She possessed the soul of a romantic, hawking her own Abthactor services as a matchmaker with the tenacity of a Merchant running after past-due accounts. Mrs. Moseby assured him that influential men and women dated among the lower ranks of their own Caste all the time, and that the Federal and Clan policies on the use of artificial wombs favored female births by nearly four-to-one to compensate for the lower numbers of female immigrants.

So far, all he had been able to come up with was to maintain a dignified demeanor and keep her in the dark as the two of them continued to date and get to know each other better. Physical intimacy had been carefully avoided for the time being; the two of them were reluctant to start something that might lead to problems in the future, Ciara having seen and dealt with damaged relationships on her parent’s Jumpship and Jeremy reluctant to appear forcing his attention on a subordinate.

He was almost ready to pay her if only to order her to butt out, but it did explain the attention he had been getting since moving back to the Compound – Mrs. Moseby had enthusiastically explained how the combination of rank in a First Clan, relative youth and good looks, and an expense account with first-class benefits were rare in a society that encouraged early marriage and large families. The thought of enriching her home business and reputation while being shopped around to the matrons of Clan high society – it made him want to shudder and hide under his desk.

Glancing at the digital clock under the surface of his desk, he decided to call it a day. The new proposals and grants had firmed up nicely, and Simon had been in a good mood yesterday as he looked over several of the Aerospace proposals Jeremy had approved for development. The prospect of being able to brief the irritable Khan seemed to be a relief for both of them, and Jeremy was looking forward to watching Gloria squirm in her seat as the Khan approved the new budget. The fact he had lost ten pounds and Gloria seemed to be a stress eater had nothing to do with it.

Great motivation, though, he thought happily. A quick 30-minute workout in the gym, three floors down and across the hall from the elevator and then home for a shower before a quick supper and an evening working as an Abthactor. I might even earn enough to buy dinner.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Theoretical Physics was generally one of those dead-end careers only useful to people when they couldn’t explain why what they thought they knew didn’t – quite – match reality, but mathematics was something that you could use anywhere. And right now, those numbers were earning him an excellent commission as he finished slogging through the latest contract his agent had negotiated with the Caste.

Well, that settles that.

Another evening too late for starting anything new, and the vid… I think I’d rather go to sleep.

He was in one of those weird moods, restless, wanting something interesting to do with mind racing. A few minutes spent doing dishes and cleaning the clutter around the kitchen left him unsatisfied and wanting more, the empty quarters leaving him feeling isolated and alone, and suddenly he decided to wander the Compound. The residential floors for high Clan officials seemed mostly deserted in the early evening, as families took advantage of the Compound’s green areas and rows of small boutiques and shops, interspaced with small crowds around the kiosks serving food to the public.

Changing clothes and double-checking his keys and wallet, he took the elevator to the lobby and passed the security desk to begin walking, watching families with three or more children clustered around them walking pets, playing in the green areas, and spending time in the rows of shops and carts selling everything from alcohol to high-end jewelry and clothing. Noticing how few of the pedestrians seemed to be alone or not walking purposefully on some errand made him suddenly conscious he was an outsider.

The sounds of children were suddenly too loud, too boisterous, and he found himself turning back from the green area and the clusters of children, his meandering shuffle gaining speed as he began walking back to the building and perhaps spend some time relaxing with the Professor’s textbook and a treat before he could reasonably wander off to bed to start the next day. Walking past the security personnel on the first floor he didn’t see any of the staff he recognized – I really, really need to get out more. – and took the elevator up to his office.

Mrs. Moseby was gone for the night and the dragons were in their own domain somewhere else in the Compound until tomorrow morning, but it wasn’t like he had ordered a round-the-clock presence in the office just in case he felt like sending someone for donuts.

Ahh, Mr. Horton. I can’t wait for you to open a franchise. Hmm. Donuts tomorrow? I wonder what Bob’s doing? Oh, for Pete’s sake…

Having come all this way, being unable to find a light to turn on as he walked into the cluster of offices surrounding his own was somewhat – ridiculous. Good word, ‘ridiculous’. But all he had to do was cross an office. What could go wrong? Across the office, in through the security door, turn the hallway lights on and down the hall to his office, where he walked past the desk to the small technical library he had been expanding since coming to the Cluster sat. The Professor’s book should be right here – and it wasn’t. What?

Takiro · « **Reply #70 on:** April 20, 2021, 05:43:53 AM »

Quote from: Red Pins on April 19, 2021, 02:31:25 PM

Somehow I managed to screw up the Chapters again! 6-8 pages of text and a new Chapter? I was trying for about 5,000 words per Chapter and bumbled it somehow. Got to watch that for next time.

I know how that feels. Recently I had a Mech design all fluffed out and lost everything. Programming error in the software I am using. That really takes the wind out of your sails.

Anyway, keep up the good work RP!

Red Pins · « **Reply #71 on:** April 26, 2021, 12:14:10 AM »

The textbook was a simple, well-bound book roughly an inch and a half thick. Besides the fond memories, the tables and data in the appendix more than justified keeping it as it was one of the most recent and well-written of its kind in the Cluster. Just owning the original was a coup; being able to authorize and profit from copies had provided the income to buy the first business suit he had needed to look the part of a successful Scientist. And we know how that turned out. Thanks, Professor.

He felt a little apologetic, selling access to the Professor’s work, but with the Cluster as isolated as it was the idea of honoring copyright was a bit farfetched. Especially since the rest of the New Clans agreed staying isolated and above the constant machinations of the Great Houses was a good thing, to say nothing of avoiding the Wolves and the rest of the invading dezClans. So, where was it?

He spared a few seconds looking around the rest of the office, but didn’t see it. I know I had it at the Yallow office. Scribbling a note to Mrs. Moseby asking her to investigate, he took a few minutes loading a copy of Thomas Kearney and Takayoshi Fuchida’s work to a convenient tablet only to pause, confused, as the pad cancelled the file transfer. ‘Exceeds capacity’? What?

Perhaps something had been left to take up space? Finding nothing, he shrugged and went back out to Mrs. Moseby’s collection of secure datapads in one of the rooms behind the desk, selecting one of the larger tablets with expanded storage and all the bells and whistles. He hadn’t had occasion to use many of these, but perhaps something interesting would come of the extra features. It occurred to him the pads with the K-F data from the Kraken and Merger were something that had been left behind more than once as he waited for the original papers of Kearny and Fuchida to transfer to the tablet.

I wonder just how much the database had on K-F theory?

^^^^^^^^^^^^

The pad, sitting in the middle of a pile of empty snack bags at the kitchen table with Professor Andrews’ textbook beside it, had finally run out of power sometime just before dawn. Jeremy, just as tired as his electronic minion, had left it where it died and finally gone to bed soon after, arranging to come in to the office late in the day for a scheduled call to the saKhan.

Something was wrong.

NAIS was the primary beneficiary of the Helm data core discovered by the Grey Death Legion, their entire existence owed to Hanse Davion’s hope to regain knowledge lost through the centuries of the Succession Wars for the Federated Suns and then Federated Commonwealth after the merger of the two realms. The data within the core, free of tampering by ComStar during the Succession Wars should have been faithful copies of the original documents that had earned the two men the derision of the scientific community.

It wasn’t.

Details surrounding the original events that had led the two men to publish their first paper were subtly changed, data and tables more explicit. Upon reading the information, he’d had no choice but to find the book to confirm his suspicions, leading him to spending the late evening summoning Bob and one of the dragons back to the office to help track it down. Deciding to dispatch Bob in a convenient VTOL to the Yallow office just in case paid off as security staff found the missing text neatly shelved at the small Yallow technical library just before midnight. Forcing Bob to play spoken book over an open line may have been a bit over the top, but the confirmation of his suspicions was enough to satisfy him until he took possession of the book once again.

Someone, somewhere, had hidden key facts and portions of the two men’s work – Alliance or Hegemony, McKenna or Amaris, it made no difference – but maintained copies of the original works in the top secret database. Somehow, the real events behind the theory were lost – until Jeremy had gone searching for a little ‘light reading’ before bed.

When the tablet had died Jeremy had done the only smart thing, after ordering the nervous dragon still in the office to schedule a call with the saKhan for early afternoon, and taken a mild tranquilizer before going to bed for the rest of the morning.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Morning, Jimmy, what can I do for you?”

“We have a situation, Simon,” Jeremy started. “I’ve found something – something big. I need funding to prove it, and I want a blank cheque to authorize the work.”

The line was quiet for a few seconds as the saKhan absorbed that.

“You won’t talk about it over the phone, will you?”

“No. This isn’t that urgent – but its that important. If this means what I think it means, we might be able to give the Clan – Clans – a major advantage, economically and militarily. Come to the office and I’ll show you, but there’s no point rushing back and forth right now.”

“I’ll be there tonight, if it’s that important.”

Jeremy snorted. “Call ahead. Chances are I’ll still be up,” he said drily.

^^^^^^^^^^

The rest of Jeremy’s day dragged on as he waited impatiently for Simon to finish the course of his normal duties and present himself for the briefing he and Bob had prepared. Mrs. Moseby had scrounged up a pair of former history teachers from somewhere, and Bob had interviewed them (Separately, of course!) to try and scrape together some background to help identify when it had been done, but it seemed beside the point now.

His gut told him it had been done by the controlling partners of the Alliance early in the development process as a way to control first their own allies, then the nascent independence movement that had eventually forced the Alliance to abandon the colonies furthest from Terra.

Hundred-year-old documents in dusty old storage rooms and forgotten databases, carefully edited by someone to remove any hint of a clue. All to preserve ‘Rule from Terra’. The irony was astounding.

McKenna’s display of naval might and the founding of the Terran Hegemony seemed the most likely reason information about the disinformation campaign was lost; as senior politicians and bureaucrats were arrested or purged the new government would have fallen victim to the same misinformation campaign, never knowing of the existence of observational evidence not in the public record.

And the only clue to reveal it exists is in a top-secret database – in a Deep Periphery realm ruled by isolationists and militants – where an educational system lacks instructors to teach anyone to understand the theory – except a disgraced theoretical physicist recruited as their scientific advisor and administrator - looking for something to help him fall asleep, because he misplaced a textbook written by his mentor.

Shit. What have I done?

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Jimmy was still at his desk catching up to his morning schedule and trying to guide Bob and Mrs. Moseby on what he wanted to present as Compound security officers frantically called the office to report both Khans had walked up to the Compound’s security and were in the building after being cleared to enter with their security teams accompanying them. Despite the trepidation of the office staff, Jeremy was less than impressed and leaned back to scowl at the paperwork still covering his desk.

Welp. That scraps the briefing I was going to present.

The Professor had always emphasized that if you wanted to pry open someone’s wallet, you had to sell the idea it was going to benefit him in the long run. Now, he had more than one person to convince and the wildly divergent viewpoints… Could be more congruent than he had really thought about. It was plain the Weasel was another militant crazy more concerned with the military than the society it was created to protect. Sell him another gun, and he’d worry more about range, effect, and how long it would take to build it rather than how much effort it would take to design it.

The saKhan… His motives were more of a mystery, but seemed a decent sort who had to run the military the way the Khan ordered. He hadn’t been surprised by the work ahead described in the proposals Jeremy had prepared for him, which was a good sign. The sudden burst of noise from the outer office was as good a warning as any, and as Mrs. Moseby’s voice carried into the office inviting the Khans to go right in he stood and came out from behind the desk to welcome them.

His first look at the two men told the story of why they were so early; the Khan – that Weasel – was clearly exited to be here. Simon looked like he had been pulled out of his seat at the dinner table to attend another boring meeting and wasn’t happy about it.

Well, I’ll keep it short. There’s probably something he can fill the rest of his day with.

“Good afternoon, Gentlemen.” Shaking hands with the two men as Bob pointedly closed the office doors on their aides, he waved at the two comfortable chairs in front of his desk. “We’ll keep this informal - take a seat and we can get started.”

Taking a position in front of his desk, he pulled both the tablet with the original articles and the Professor’s open text from its place on the desk and sat on the edge as he held them up to show them the two items.

“Gentlemen, this is – or was – the current state-of-the-art at NAIS as of the late ‘70s,” he said, hefting the Professors text.

“And here’s the truth,” he said, brandishing the tablet as he dropped the text to his desk with a heavy thud. Launching into his theory of a forgotten disinformation campaign, he could see the disbelief on their faces, and decided to cut to the chase.

“If I’m right, the conclusions behind modern K-F theory have led us into a dead end. The original papers -” Jeremy said, tapping the tablet for emphasis, “include several theories not referred to in any Inner Sphere – or Clan – references we’ve been able to locate. And that is priceless – we can open a whole new field of study here, in the Cluster, that most of the human universe has no idea even exists.”

“Even better – the Clan has the resources to do something about it. It would be better to involve the IlKhan’s JDP, if only to get them to help pay for it, but I suspect we can prove or disprove some of these possibilities fairly easily. One of the benefits of nearly a thousand years of technical development.”

Looking over at the Khan, who seemed a bit nonplused, Simon spoke first. “What, exactly, do you mean by, ‘most’?”

“While focused on communications, the Blakists used tactics based on Hyperspace theory on at least two occasions,” Jeremy declared. “Their ‘White-out’ campaign to impede communications across the Inner Sphere matches Kearney and Fuchida’s theories on slow-propagation interference, effectively jamming communications not insulated against such an attack.”

“The second is more widely known; on several occasions, Blakist WarShips used a ‘Super Jump’ technique that offers a massive increase in range for a single Jump but strands them in a target system until the battery system can be replaced.”

“And you think these reports confirm that copies of the original theories still existed on Terra?”

“Either that, or they discovered for themselves some kind of clue that led to them to develop these concepts independently.”

“What else do these theories tell you?”, interrupted the Khan. “And I want specifics, not a laundry list of ‘maybe’s’. What, exactly, can I expect to get out of funding this project of yours?”

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