Chapter 17

“You must get some sleep, my love,” Herrick cajoled Amantil as she gazed at a screen in her (very) private dwelling, the one in Vreekoos City itself, not her palace on the small continent of Lassos.

“I know,” she sighed. “But decisions need to be made as to where resources should be sent. Cillort’s reinforced forces are attacking piecemeal and we can’t be everywhere at once.”

“You can’t defend everything. It makes no sense,” he replied thoughtfully.

“I know but after Coriona, morale is fragile,” she almost sobbed.

“I’m going to ask Dave and Kirim to come around. He’s a good friend and may just have some insights,” he suggested.

“Like he’ll understand a space battle,” she groused.

“No, but he understands war ... from what little I’ve spoken with him about it.”

“Very well. I’m getting nowhere here anyway,” she muttered.

“Dave, Kirim, could you come and see us?” Herrick requested in a message to us.

“Sure, right now?” Kirim replied as I was just about to get undressed.

“Please.”

“OK, send a lift, we’ll be ready in ten,” she replied with a smile.

“Dave, Kirim, it’s good of you to come,” a tired looking Herrick greeted us, whilst a glassy eyed Amantil was muttering in frustration at a tridee screen on a desk.

“Nice to get an invite,” I replied with a smile. “What’s up?”

“Manny is in a quandary as to which directives to give out to defend us.”

“I am not in a quandary! I ... er ... I just don’t know what to do,” she finished sheepishly.

“Let’s see,” I replied as the AI put up a large scale 3D image in front of all of us.

“We have critical planetary nodes, here, here and here.” Herrick showed me. “We also have border obligations, here and here.”

“Ah, I see the problem,” I nodded. “There was an ... Emperor on my Earth who said, ‘he who defends everything, defends nothing.’ You can’t defend everything, Manny. You need to decide what’s really critical and then you need to do something to place Cillort on the defensive.”

“After Coriola, I’ve got panicking bureaucrats coming out of the woodwork,” she sighed.

“So give them a victory, not a defence. Take a couple of risks. Even with the Gershon reinforcements he’s got, you can still give him a hell of a black eye with a single fleet.”

“True...” she murmured looking at the display now, not at her screen.

“Also, why Coriola? It’s isolated and was no threat to you or him. Even if it was just to make you panic, it still made no sense. Unless he’s hiding something there or in that region where the array could scan.”

“We assumed it was a terror tactic,” Herrick replied.

“Then he should have gone for Trimgar. More people, closer to Vreekoos.”

“Hmmm,” Amantil nodded.

“Also, let your Admirals fight the war. You just give political direction and occasional suggestions, such as ‘have a close look around Coriola’.”

“I ... you’re saying I should step back?” she asked.

“Yes, tell them to get out there and do their jobs!”

I was told later by Herrick that my advice was taken to heart by Amantil and she lit a fire, metaphorically speaking, under her Admirals. My troubles with the newsies had come to a grinding halt with the prosecution of the entire board of Magna Media, plus various other Writs against other organisations which had been complicit in spreading lies about me. This was coupled with the Bureaucracy of Communications being gutted by the Auditors and a new generation of bureaucrats under a new High Bureaucrat being put in place.

All this netted me a tidy sum in compensation Royals as well as a very public apology from the media corporations on prime time news. The compensation I divided up between charities who were doing work on Actilonia and Trialis.

Life returned to normal for a few weeks as Kirim settled into her new job. She was told by Cass not to wear her armour until after our daughter was born. Something she’d realised herself as it was getting a bit snug around her midriff and it wasn’t designed for ladies in the family way.

News about the war was a bit sparse, though a victorious encounter was announced when Seventh Fleet caught the Gershonian Lords raiding a high tech planet and took out all but one of their Dreadnaughts, though a Gershonian Dreadnaught was not reckoned as being as capable as a Vreekoosi one. It was also announced that an auxiliary fleet made up of reserves had chased the Xillith Rationalty back to the original border after a bruising encounter, which, whilst it could only be considered a draw, cost the Xillith more in the way of damage as they could not replace their losses easily.

I gathered tying Cillort down was a bit of a problem. He’d chosen his planets well and all had a battlestar defence grid, which, coupled with Third fleet and what remained of the Gershonian rebels, meant attacking him would be costly. He’d also made it known that he’d set off the last resort devices if Vreekoos did attack. Whilst I didn’t expect it to stop Vreekoos eventually, it was making them cautious. Plans were also afoot on the recommendations of FleetInt to give several key worlds their own battlestar grids based more on where an attack would be catastrophic, rather than on size of population. What they were up to in or around Coriola at this time I did not know.

“David, could you attend Medical Resource?” The AI stated after we both rose one morning.

“Sure, will be up in about sixty rotations,” I replied as Kirim took advantage of my distraction to slip into the sonic shower first with a little giggle.

“Our usual breakfasts please,” I requested as I grinned at her naked form clearly observable through the glass-like panelling.

“Quit perving and tidy up,” she called.

“Yes, dear,” I laughed and put our yesterday’s clothing into the cleaning unit that also used sonic emanations but also somehow managed to fold and iron the items, all within seconds.

By that time, our breakfasts had arrived, mine the faux fruit and a tuch, Kirim’s the large faux meat filled platter with breads and flavoured oils, along with a tuch.

“I honestly don’t know how you manage having so little,” she commented as she stepped out of the shower and pulled her clean utilitarian ‘working’ underwear on, before slipping a maternity outfit over the top, though she wasn’t ‘largely’ pregnant as yet.

“I enjoy lunch at Mamma Vatu’s. It also enables me to keep my ear to the ground in the lower levels as to what’s going on out of sight of the sensors,” I replied, before slipping into the shower to clean up, particularly the residue of our lovemaking last night.

“Weird custom,” she giggled. “But whatever works for you.”

“I pass on anything I think you should know,” I replied as I emerged and pulled my own clothing on, or rather the coverall I used when going to the upper levels.

“It’s appreciated,” she replied around a mouthful of bread and meat.

“They know I’m married to you so I doubt I’ll ever get anything really juicy.”

“Yeah, that’s true, but the info is useful to me to gauge the conditions in your sector.”

“I think Rogg runs a tight ship ... so to speak.”

“Certainly more outwardly civilised than a lot of sectors, yes. Everyone understands his rules and the price of crossing them,” she agreed.

“Yep, they may be up to no good at times, but innocents rarely get hurt by them.”

“True and he did drop a few hints to you as to that weird drug dealer who set up shop in your sector, the one who was extracting female hormones to make that aphrodisiac,” she replied with a delicate shudder.

“Well, it worked, just left them somewhat damaged afterwards and unable to tell Cass where it happened or who did it, despite a couple of times she asked me to step in.”

“Yep, Minat’s last big case before his promotion,” she nodded. “Time for you to go though,” she added as she gave me a passionate kiss.

“Take care, my Lady,” I replied before we kissed again and the lift opened.

“Good morning, Monitor Vilgra,” I greeted Vilgra formally as she was standing beside a strange (to me) woman.

“Good morning, Cure David,” she replied, just as formally. “This is Senior Monitor Ashlann. She is currently evaluating my performance.”

“Salutations, Senior Monitor Ashlann,” I greeted the woman. “Now, Vilgra, what do you have for me?”

“We have the son of High Bureaucrat Spinnec who was injured playing grav-ball. Severe brain damage from when his grav-pack failed and he was dropped from a height headfirst onto the court floor.”

“Potential sabotage?” I asked out of curiosity.

“That is none of your business,” Ashlann broke in coldly.

“Indulge me or get out of my face,” I replied. “I’m not required to answer to anyone but Monitor Vilgra and the Cure Guild and I don’t have to tolerate petty bureaucrats interfering with my need to get to know the patient and his background.”

“You will do as ordered,” she spat back.

“No, I won’t! Find another Cure,” I hit back, nodded to Vilgra and just walked off.

“Cure David,” came a politely toned interjection from Vilgra.

“Yes, Monitor Vilgra?”

“I’m sure Senior Monitor Ashlann did not mean to interfere with your methodology, not knowing you as we do,” she indicated the Resource staff who were watching quietly.

“Then she should have said nothing, merely observed and evaluated your interactions with me. Not interfered with a Cure and how I do my job,” I replied evenly.

“You work for us,” Ashlann added in freezing tones.

“Actually no. I work for the Empress directly, if you’d care to read my contract,” I replied. “AI, confirm please?”

“Confirmed. Cures do not work for Medical Resource, but for the Empress directly. Medical Resource merely facilitate their activities.”

“I suggest you hold your tongue now and merely observe before I arrange for ImpSec to have you thrown out of here.”

“You can’t!” she hissed.

“AI?”

“He can.”

“And I will. You are not in charge of me, neither is Monitor Vilgra, for all she has my utmost respect. She is here to facilitate my gift between this Resource’s patients and my schedule.”

“This is true,” Vilgra confirmed. “I’m not even allowed to touch him if he doesn’t want me to.”

“Been going through that old file on how to win friends and influence people, Dave?” Came Herricks voice.

“Troubleshooter Herrick,” I acknowledged.

“Cure David,” he acknowledged just as formally. “Senior Monitor Ashlann, just what is your purpose in being here?” he followed up with a stern question.

“My job involves the appraisal of all Monitors working in Medical Resource,” she replied, looking and sounding a lot more respectful now.

“I see, this appraisal is supposed to be done every second year, is it not?”