Cassandra Kresnov 5: Operation Shield (46 page)

Ibrahim had put the display screen on while they were talking. Now Amirah looked and saw the lean face of Justice Rosa, the writer who'd been writing Kresnov's biography…or limited biography, as Kresnov called it. He sat in a studio, looking serious, opposite an equally serious interviewer. Ibrahim turned the sound up.

“…
honestly, knowing Commander Kresnov as I do
,” Rosa was saying, “
I think it's bullshit.
”

“What is?” asked the interviewer.

“
The coup plot. I am a very good judge of character, Deepak, and I'd stake my professional reputation on this
—
Cassandra Kresnov is no plotter of coups. There is only one coup plot at work in Tanusha today, and that is the one currently being perpetrated by the Office of Intelligence Directorate in the Grand Council, against the government of the entire Federation.
”

All three in the Director's office stared at the screen.

“Well,” said Cassillas.

“Well indeed,” Ibrahim murmured.

They watched in silence for several more minutes as the interviewer harangued Rosa on his accusation, and Rosa replied that his position was not ideological because he was in fact a pacifist and disliked the Federal intervention on Pyeongwha no matter what short-term good it did, but that neither did he like the imposition of draconian emergency powers on evidence that could easily be faked with today's technology. And furthermore, if anyone else felt the same, he'd be leading protests in Russell Square, London District, where other like-minded thinkers would be joining him to advocate civil disobedience against Operation Shield and its backers, which currently included President Singh and the government of Callay.

“Interesting,” said Cassillas and got to his feet. “Must get back.”

Ibrahim nodded, and Cassillas left. Ibrahim glanced up at Amirah once more.

“I do expect you to ace your political exams now,” he told her. “Given this unmatched experience in political function.” A joke. Good lord. Amirah suspected that most people who were very good at something enjoyed it on some level, even if they didn't like to admit it. Like Kresnov with killing people.

“Actually, sir, since you brought it up,” she said with an offhanded smile, “I've been a little concerned my career track here might lead me straight into combat roles, given that I'm a combat GI. Lately I've been thinking I might enjoy a more administrative track.”

Ibrahim raised eyebrows. “The two are not mutually exclusive. And in the Federation, GI or not, you have the perfect right to pursue any career track you prove yourself capable of.”

“Yes, sir. Let's just survive the next few days first.”

“The next few hours, indeed,” Ibrahim agreed, rubbing his face. “As if I did not have enough on my plate, now I find my bodyguard covets my job.”

Amirah laughed. “Maybe. Give me forty years.” Ibrahim, to her delight, smiled quite broadly.

Chief Shin entered, calm as ever. Shut the door behind him, barely a thread or a hair out of place. “Director. You wished to see me?”

“Latest word from the Pantala negotiations,” said Ibrahim without preamble. He did that, Amirah was learning. Launched straight into people, giving them no time to brace. “They're extremely thin. Your explanation?”

“Our sources are tenuous.” Shin approached the chair opposing Ibrahim's desk but did not take it. Ibrahim did not offer it to him. Shin tugged a cuff, clasped hands. “OID run a tight ship, the negotiations are mostly theirs and Fleet's. FSA is an extra-governmental agency, and a non-military one, so neither avenue affords us much return.”

“Interesting,” said Ibrahim. “My days in the CSA give me much direct access to Callayan intelligence sources normally denied to a Federal security operative. As such, I've been talking to some sources very close to Fleet Intelligence.”

Shin did not flinch. Amirah did not think the two men unfriendly. Between such men, on such matters, personal relations were not relevant. Yet she could smell the tension.

“Local sources are often best at finding informal routes of contact, as you'll know,” Ibrahim continued. “And Fleet Intel will talk to less important local operatives more willingly than the Federal kind. The consensus amongst Fleet Intelligence is that whatever this whole episode is really about, it's about Pantala and lines that the League will go to any lengths to keep us from crossing.”

“I had heard similar theories,” Shin admitted.

“Yet did not report them.”

A pause. Only five words, yet a dagger at Shin's heart. Amirah marvelled at the efficiency.

“There are many theories, Director,” said Shin, unruffled. “Were I to report them all, you would have no time to read anything else.”

Ibrahim gazed at him for a long moment. Then, “I have a theory of my own. I wanted to run it past you, see if it struck the Federation's chief spy as at least plausible.”

Shin nodded. “Director.”

“Commander Kresnov reports to us, quite plausibly, that League did not create synthetic neurology as they've always claimed. GIs are in fact a Talee invention, borrowed by the League, as the Talee carelessly left it lying. This, of course, is an enormous can of worms.

“Point one, the League lied about the defining technological breakthrough of their existence. Hugely, and destructively embarrassing, for League's reputation and founding ideology, and thus constitutional stability.

“Point two, League misused this technology in the creation of their own civilian uplink tech, which now threatens mass destabilisation on the psychological and social level, to the point of potential League disintegration.

“Point three, the Talee are known to be quite upset about this, to the point of siding with FSA operatives, against League forces, in military engagements on and around Pantala.

“Point four, a League cruiser tried to destroy Droze with a nuclear weapon and kill a million citizens, rather than let any of this become known.

“Now it doesn't take a great strategic mind to guess what the primary conditions are for the League's acquiescence to any Federation demands for involvement in managing this new crisis. League will want this kept quiet, to the greatest degree possible. Likely they'll demand the neutralisation of those 200 GI refugees from Pantala. And now we see that their Federation interlocutors have achieved just that.

“But most importantly, the faceless powers behind the appointments to the Grand Council get wind of all this and fear another war. Perhaps they are directly contacted by League operatives, a two-track approach by the League to play hardball negotiations at Pantala while intimidating the powers that
control the GC on the other. And now, this sudden rush to referendums that will not prevent a League social meltdown but will rather prevent the Federation from intervening in it, curling us into a ball in the vain hope that this shall somehow pass us by if we don't provoke it. Plausible so far, do you think?”

“Quite plausible,” Shin agreed. “It appears to fit with most of what we know. But the appearance of a fit is not the same as an actual fit.”

“True. And there is one very important piece missing in this theory. How could such a series of machinations be achieved without the Federation's premier security agency finding out? Especially now that it is being headed by a man who is, let us say, known to be disagreeable on matters such as the subverting of democratic process by self-interested and violent parties?

“Well, the FSA has an Achilles heel—it relies overly much upon Federal Intelligence for much of its information, particularly that from infiltration-resistant parties like Fleet, OID, and the like. But if the plotters had a powerful ally onside, say, the Chief of FedInt himself? Most likely that information would never reach the FSA at all.”

Shin nodded approvingly. “An excellent theory, Director. It would explain certain things. All too conveniently, in fact.”

Ibrahim smiled, conceding that riposte. “Such a theory, were it proven true, would indicate a possible path of advancement. Intelligence blockages are as damaging as intelligence leaks, perhaps more so. Blockages must be unblocked. Eliminated if necessary. I'm sure you agree.”

“Completely, Director.”

“Excellent,” said Ibrahim. “It so happens that in such an eventuality, I am in possession of the superior tools for that job.” He glanced calmly to Amirah. And back. “Both in this headquarters and currently unaccounted for on the outside. Very many of those, I understand.”

Shin smiled. “It is good to know that the FSA is in possession of such excellent assets. But I urge you not to abandon alternative possibilities quite so early in the piece.”

“Never,” Ibrahim agreed. “There are always alternatives. Often even less pleasant than the original. That will be all, Chief Shin.”

“Director.” A faint bow, and he turned for the door. Closed it behind him, leaving the Director and his synthetic bodyguard alone in the office.

“Now do you understand why I wanted you in for this meeting?” Ibrahim asked.

“Yes, sir. I'll have him watched.” As Ibrahim's personal bodyguard, she was now in a position to share information and even to suggest new tactics to other combatants, especially GIs. This time, she understood, it would not be so much a suggestion as an instruction, straight from the Director.

Ibrahim nodded, satisfied that she understood. “Do not underestimate them. FedInt assets are not combatants as such, but against GIs the stealthy operative is probably the more effective option.”

“Agreed. We'll be ready.”

Justice Tado dove into the wide blue pool and swam. Twenty meters, then turn and swim back. Pity it wasn't a twenty-five meter pool; as a regular swimmer Tado knew just how many strokes that took, and how her form was, and if she needed to lift her workrate. It was petty, to complain about the missing five meters; most people didn't have any pool at their workplace. But it was enough that she typically preferred to swim near her home, and not in the Supreme Court block in Montoya. Exceptions she made for days like today, when the stress levels climbed too high, with coups and talk of high-ranking people trying to kill other high-ranking people, and rumours that FSA and OID were squabbling over the Supreme Court's security arrangements.

Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen strokes…her hand touched. It took eighteen. That was seventeen. Her concentration was slipping, somehow she'd lost count…

She caught the edge and looked about. And nearly died of astonishment. This wasn't the pool she'd jumped into. There were old stone columns, overgrown in places with creepers, stone floors, and a blue sky above. Men and women in robes, a woman carrying a tall urn, pouring wine for several others sitting poolside. They talked and laughed, in what sounded like…Latin. Ancient Rome.

It was quite bewildering to be confronted with something impossible. The mind took several turns to figure it out. Either some old fairy tale from her childhood had suddenly come to life, and she'd travelled far back in space and time, or…she'd somehow entered a virtual reality space.

She looked about. The water still felt completely real, swirling between
her fingers. And here, sitting by the poolside in a simple dress, bare feet in the water, was a familiar face…familiar from news reports at least; Tado had never actually met her in person. She took a deep breath, and the feeling of safety she'd recovered upon realising she was in VR receded once more.

“Cassandra Kresnov,” she demanded, over-arming her way to the GI's feet. “What the hell are you playing at? Did you put me in VR?”

It was impossible, of course. Only there'd been rumours that it wasn't, that Kresnov had scared the crap out of some very senior people with the extent to which it wasn't. But a Supreme Court Judge wasn't really supposed to know stuff like that, being senior in the scheme of things didn't mean she was anything more than just another judge, completely independent from all the mechanisms that surrounded for her to occasionally pass judgement on.

“It's a better scenario than the alternative,” said Kresnov.

“And
what
, please tell me, is the alternative?” Tado put arms on the poolside and glared up at her.

“I was killed by Operation Shield,” said Kresnov innocently. “Because that would make this the afterlife.”

“Or you a ghost.” She poked at Kresnov's bare foot. It felt quite real, but that was just VR. “Girl, I am one hundred and seven years old. You should show more respect to your elders.”

“If I didn't respect you, I wouldn't be here.” Tado was certain Kresnov had learned to use this first impression to her advantage among people who'd never met her before. She was very pretty, calm yet animated. The period dress was a nice touch, the VR giving her a chance to dress as she would normally never choose, feminine and just a little revealing. There was a subtlety to her expression, a depth that must surely astonish anyone prejudiced against her kind. Charisma of a very certain type. “I brought you here to warn you.”

Tado was too old and wise for that. To let this stripling dictate the conversation, and thus the situation, quite so easily. She heaved herself from the pool and sat beside Kresnov in her swimsuit. The sun felt warm. These baths were half open, one side a wall, the other opening to olive groves. Someone led a donkey by, bags of olives on its saddle.

“You know I'm pretty sure the Romans didn't build them like this,” said Tado. “Bathing was a more formal experience. This is more informal. Like someone from our age might reinterpret an ancient scene.”

“Probably,” Kresnov agreed. “But we put people into ‘types’ so often, don't we? I get told all the time I don't behave like a normal GI, or like a normal person from the League, as though who we are means we've only one way to do things. I'm sure plenty of Romans built things however they chose, it was a big empire.”

“And why do you like the Romans so much?”

Kresnov smiled slightly. “A clever use of the word ‘like.’ Implying personal bias on my part, yourself apart in wise judgement.” Tado only smiled, wondering again how the hell Kresnov had penetrated security to get this far. But she was only an expert in law, not security. “I'm interested in modernity, and how it happens. What we call ‘modern’ civilisation pretty much started with the Romans.”