Regan's Reach 2: Orbital Envy (24 page)

Leah now interrupted."But it's not their system Regan." There was a small pause so she continued. "Look, Earth has had four years to get used to Ham. Sure many in the corridors of power might still struggle to come to grips with such a sharp AI but he has huge popular support. Refusing to let Ham testify or Hilary for that matter would not go down well with the people. It may even be interpreted as the Coran/Russian bloc trying to hide the real truth. It turns the moral argument on its head"

Regan smiled. "Did I mention that Leah Morgan is my new PA? And she does have an excellent point. What do you think Marcus, Steve?"

"It might just make the difference. Marcus replied. "To be blunt Regan, on that video evidence, presented in the form they will present it, you could be convicted. And I'm not happy with the thought of you being called to testify. I know you, you're too truthful. They'll ask you all the right questions and I
know
you'll tell the truth, and doing that would hang you." He paused, thinking. "We need a more economical mind."

"Economical?"

"Economical with the truth . . ." Marcus let the thought hang, a little uncomfortable.

"So . . . what are you saying?" she asked.

"We need Ham."

To Regan's surprise no one in the room looked confused. Everyone understood completely, Marcus was right.

later that afternoon, a kilometer further up the pipe in the new commissioner's compound Ham was already deep in discussion over defense plans with Rod and Hayden. Hilary sat in as a casual observer and a small part of Regan's consciousness also monitored proceedings.

Rod's frustration was showing. "I can fully understand the worth of expanding our flight of ADF's. We have only fifty and as I understand it The US want at least fifty if we can give them the remote pilots. What I don't understand is what our weaponry is."

"Rod there are more ways to accomplish defense than having the biggest gun." Hayden smiled knowingly.

"But the ADF's have nothing, not a dick, not a missile; they're impotent, flash Harry's, all push and no prod. At least give us a gun per ADF, this is madness. Are we building kamikaze jets or something?"

"Rod," Ham answered, "as a wise man once said, it's only when you see a mosquito landing on your testicles that you realize there is always a way to solve a problem without violence."

Despite her attempts, back in the Stein office Regan couldn't stifle a laugh. She attracted strange looks as the group continued to discuss next steps.

Ham continued. "Hayden, we need another fifty ADF's and quickly. The question is can we produce them in the next two weeks?"

"The simple answer is no, but we can give you forty, there are already twenty five on the assembly line. I can give you fifty in fourteen days and of course if, we keep going, another thirty perhaps over the following week. That's if we prioritize your work with the fabricator. Ham, the question really is how do we fly them? We don't have the remote pilots."

"And they don't have guns!" Rod protested. They ignored him.

"We don't need remotes Hayden," Ham sounded excited. "Now that my attentions are freed up, I'll fly them. Here's my plan. I copy versions of myself into every ADF. As long as they are in range they will be slaved to central control, me. If they are separated from central control they act independently. But it will still be me, Ham flying the ADF."

"We could call them piglets." suggested a disgruntled Rod. Only Hilary was bold enough to laugh.

"You do realize you and I will be sharing a cockpit Rod, as central control."

"With Minjee I presume? I'll need a co-pilot."

"You are not doing any of
that
while we are defending the realm."

"Actually Ham, she is a top pilot," surprisingly Hayden supported Rod, "and, it would be good to keep her in the loop, she's South Korean. It's good to have someone who gives us good PR in her home country while being the best at her job."

Rod hadn't given up. "But we still don't have a weapon, shit. You're not listening. Who's going to give a fuck how well we fly?"

"Rod, it's time to truly educate you. Grab Minjee and meet the ADF on the flight deck. Hayden, you can take that fifty ADF's as a firm order. It will give us six squadrons of twenty five and remember more would be great."

Back in the office, alone now for the moment, Regan smiled wryly. She knew what was to come for Rod and Minjee.
I hope they've got clean underwear!

* * *

As the Coran pod drifted back into the huge flight deck Officer Terrin positioned herself so they would have to pass her on the way to control for their debrief. Her nerves were too acute to keep avoiding him and that would be a mistake anyway she knew. Avoidance wasn't an option and would only draw attention to her continued failure. She needed to take action, to control the situation.

Things on the ship were better . . . and they shouldn't be better! Even the normal system glitches seemed to be disappearing. Information requests entered now achieved responses faster than ever and with more accuracy. Breakdowns were almost nonexistent. That things were unnaturally improving bothered her more than the system actually failing. She knew the Commander was a deeply suspicious man and he would not be happy. Something had changed, she knew it, but she had no clue as to what. As the sole responsible officer she would be the incompetent he judged. At the back of her mind resided the fear that he would find out soon. For now, she was desperate to delay discovery, hoping for some insight, some miracle that would make her way clear and cover her ignorance.

Doors to the flight deck irised open at the end of the corridor and she commenced an innocent stroll toward them. It was Ryman who appeared first and she saw he was smiling. The flood of relief she felt at the observation was overwhelming. Merryl followed and knowing him so well she could tell it had been a successful trip. He looked confident, assured, even charged.

The second officer hardly acknowledged her as he passed, just a cursory nod, but Merryl deliberately slowed as they neared. He stopped as did she.

"Officer Terrin." He was unnecessarily loud. "We've been off ship some time. I'm heading to control to file my report and then will need an update on events while we've been away. Prepare for inspection and meet me in my office for a complete review." He turned without another word and proceeded toward control.

At the words, she almost wilted with relief, shaking at the knees. She had at most an hour.

'Inspection', 'complete review'
, the coded words meant everything to her. Things had obviously gone very well down there. Now, if she performed well she would have her extra day. And of all the Commanders peculiar peccadilloes this was her favorite. Rushing, she made for her cabin, quickly stripping and entering her private shower. She proceeded to wash, thoroughly exploring every crevice, scrubbing and cleaning, removing all trace of scent or sweat. Stepping from the booth she toweled completely dry then moved to the full length mirror searching front and back to remove any hair that may have appeared since last 'inspection'. Just a touch of his favorite scent, only on places he wouldn't explore. The shoulders and forearms were safe so she caressed a hint there and finished. One final examining search then she quickly dressed and left for Merryls quarters.

At her word the door opened and she entered, quickly removing her uniform and stacking it tidily on the side shelf in just the way that he expected. She then moved to the desk. Placing her feet on the floor marks she leant forward resting her weight on her hands and waited, naked.

It was some time before she heard the door open, and voices in the corridor. She didn't move knowing Merryl well. This was part of his power game with Ryman. The other man's voice came clearly and she knew the door would still be wide open, with Merryl pretending innocence, giving Ryman a full, envious view of her form. Playing these mind games with Ryman was a great pleasure to him and she entered the play, arching her back and presenting the glorious orbs to his envious gaze.

Ryman's voice cracked as he answered some irrelevant question and she knew this would be the time Merryl would bring Ryman's torture to an end. Sure enough, she heard the door swish closed and sensed more than felt the Commanders presence behind her. She could hear the faint sound of him licking his fingers and unconsciously shifted one foot a little wider. Her anticipation was acute so that when she felt his finger reach through and begin to stroke her she felt weak at the knees.

"So, Officer Terrin, are you ready for inspection?" he continued stroking, slow circular pulses.

"Yes sir." she replied, gasping.

With his other hand he stroked her neck. "Did you wash here?"

"Yes sir."

"How can I be sure Terrin?"

"You could test it sir."
Play the game.

She could sense his pleasure at her compliant response.
I have him!
And she felt his tongue sliding up her neck, the feel of his uniform on her back.

He lifted her right arm from the table, stretching it gently above her, half turning her in the action and she could see he was flushed, excited.
Things
must
have gone well
. He bent down slightly and gently licked the smooth armpit.

"And here?" he caressed the nipple of one breast, and licked it then drew his hand to the front, massaging her clitoris with his fingers. Despite her practiced control she found herself moaning. Hoisting her slightly to the desk he knelt before her, stroking her inner thigh and using his thumb to continue her exquisite torture.

"And have you washed here?" He bent to her and took her in his mouth, sucking her into him and driving her to a fever pitch, steady, regular swirls bringing her to the brink.

Then suddenly to her delight he stopped, and still kneeling lifted her from the desk. She turned for him and leant forward, her hands on the wall, gasping again as he reached through between her legs to continue the wonderful pulsing pressure.

"And what about here?" he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. She felt his warm breath, close on the small of her back, the pulsing of his hand, swirling fingers on her clitoris, his other hand parting her, and the sense of him leaning forward. With the first touch of his tongue she could hold it no longer a clenching, gripping climax ripping through her.

Later, as he performed a much more traditional approach, heaving above her she considered her options, her mind scheming desperately.
I can always claim credit for the improvements, of course I can! As I examined the system
I
found small problems, errors and omissions and fixed them as I went along.
I've
tuned and improved things. I have the ship performing better than ever. That makes perfect sense.
He continued to move, long smooth thrusts, trying to satisfy her again.
When we return he'll probably be promoted. I might even get the ship, or another, or he might take me with him . . . No, that wouldn't work; it would only last so long . . . A ship, I must push for a ship.
Decided now, she focused on his ministrations, beginning to let herself respond, good at this now. He could sense her building passion and soon, both came, in a satisfying exhausted finale of sound.

* * *

Gliese 667 System, The New Coran Protectorate

The small sphere, basketball sized, nudged against the blister on the underside of the central bulb. It would nudge, back off a few meters then shift position drifting in under power once more to nudge again. It was probing, investigating, with just enough intelligence to be nosy.

"Bugger off . . . go on, shove off you little shit." Ham's voice bounced around control.

Finally, patience expended, a finger of blue reached out like a tongue surrounding the small drone and it popped out of existence.

"Damn . . ." He cursed the pest. "They'll know something's happened now. Marin where . . . are . . . you?"

In the absence of an answer Ham continued to search while simultaneously continuing his nefarious insinuation . . .
Thaaaat's it, almost there . . .

Two kilometers from the blister position Marin stretched out on the floor of the shielded cell. He finished his third set of forty press ups and started a fresh set of steps, up onto the bunk and down, over and over trying without success to ignore his pain. It wasn't physical.

A knock on the door drew his attention and as instructed he moved to the rear wall. Only then did the door open, the guard gesturing for him to sit, brandishing his weapon openly. He had that look,
go on, try me
and it appeared he would delight in using it. Marin took the seat and waited. The guard stepped aside, back into the corridor and the small food unit rolled through. The door slid shut behind it. Marin hesitated considering whether he really wanted the slop they had served him for the last three meals.

[Marin?]

He remained admirably still. Monitoring of the cells was constant and in his case doubly so, of that he was sure. Calmly he stood and walked to the unit, lifting the lid and examining its contents with his typical distain.

[Ham?] He stirred the slop with a spoon.

[V small processg . . . Only mini me here]

[This room is shielded, how did you find me?]

[Much steps. V hard work]

[In that case it didn't take you long] Marin grimaced and took a mouthful.

[I xtra good]

Marin paused, spoon still at his lips [. . . Are you having me on?]

[Do not comput]

[Really?]

[. . . Are you calling me a liar?]

Marin struggled to contain his smile, scooping another spoonful of the sour broth into his mouth. It produced an appropriate scowl. [Thank you for finding me my friend. What's the plan?]

[Sit tight until the next meal. I have almost stormed the gates. If I don't succeed I'll go with plan B and next visit the food unit will be locked and loaded. Stay ready then, I'll give you more instructions later]