Chapter 7

At eight AM the following morning, with about six hours to go before the royal funeral, I got a reminder from the AI that I had a meeting in two hours time with Jack and Melissa. These were the other two people who had been assigned to Confederacy Intelligence at the same time I had.

We were to meet in a small room between the blue and green rings. I had asked the AI for such a room, and it had assigned it to me for the sole use of our group while we were all on board the ship. It meant we could leave private notes and things there, and not have them moved or read by anyone else. Aside from the ship's senior officers, only the three of us would be able to unlock the door.

We spent the first few minutes just getting to know each other, Melissa, almost by sheer force of will, leading the discussion, before we turned to our work.

"Did you get an idea of how many species there were in the Confederation?" Jack asked after only a few minutes. Up to that point we had only been talking about what we had researched on our own.

"Well, I got the impression there were only eighteen," answered Melissa, "and most were extinct. But that didn't make sense, so I explicitly asked the AI."

"And?" I prompted.

"Well," she paused for a moment, "the AI wouldn't tell me."

I thought for a moment. "The impression I get," I said slowly, thinking back, "is that we only know of eighteen species: the Darjee and seventeen that are no more. I've heard someone mention the K'Treel and the Tuull or something like that, but I'm not sure whether they're a species or something else, but we know there are more species than just those eighteen. Don't we?"

"AI?" asked Jack.

"First, it is Confederacy, not Confederation," responded the AI, "second, that information is not available."

"But there are more species in the Confeder ... racy than just the Darjee aren't there?" he persisted.

The AI was fractionally slower to respond this time. "That information is not available."

Melissa looked up, annoyed at the response. "Look, you overgrown lump of silicon, we're not asking you to name them, nor to tell us where they live. Just give us some basic idea of how many there might be, or more to the point, just confirm that the Darjee are not the only surviving species of the Confederacy."

The AI didn't respond. After a couple of minutes of silence I opened my mouth. "AI, I guess that either you, or the Darjee, or someone, doesn't trust the Humans, and I suppose I'd have to say that that is understandable; but you have to understand that we need some basic information. If the Darjee are the only survivors, or there are only one or two other species, then what we might come up with to counter the Sa'arm could be different. It gives us more scope for all sorts of things, than if there are many hundreds or thousands of species in the Confederation. You need to give us some basic information to work with."

"Even if it's only broad brush generalities," added Jack.

"The reasoning is sound," answered the AI after a short pause. "The information is not currently available, but something may be made available shortly." I'd always thought the AI's sounded very slightly mechanical, but the next couple of sentences came out in a far more natural form. "Please can you wait for this information. We need to clarify what is needed against what is merely useful and what is not necessary. Some extra information is already available to senior officers in the Central Intelligence, however not all the necessary information is currently accessible. This necessary information at least will be made available at some point in the near future."

"Thank you," said Jack. I just nodded.

For the next hour or so we just talked about what we'd each learned so far. I'm afraid to say that I'd done the least, but that was in part explained by the fact that I had six concubines to Jack's four and Melissa's two, and the fact that all of mine had been through our body changes, whereas theirs hadn't, yet.

I told them about Siân's study, Melissa just sniffed but said nothing. Jack however looked interested and thoughtful. "I'm not sure we can use that just yet," he said slowly. "Maybe when we know more about what the Sa'arm are doing right now." I nodded my agreement.

"I think I'll try and get hold of some battlefield reports. Debriefing reports from troops on the ground. Just to have a run through, get a feel for what the guys on the front line think," I said. "My dad used to be a lieutenant in the Royal Artillery, maybe he can help me weed out the wheat from the chaff. Give me an idea what might be useful and what might not."

"Why get that stuff?" Melissa butted in impatiently. "They're just thicko grunts. What do they know about it?"

"Some of them have a higher IQ than you do," Jack told her shortly. She glared at him but said nothing. "These grunts, as you so kindly call them, are high CAP, they're not just unintelligent morons sent out as cannon fodder."

"Hmph," grunted Melissa. "Well if they're so good, why are they just ordinary soldiers? No. What we need is the stuff that the generals see. They know more about what's going on than the frontline soldiers."

"Don't you believe it," I muttered.

She turned and directed her glare at me. "Your father was only a lieutenant. If he was any good he would have got higher than that."

"He was invalided out after just fourteen months when he lost his leg in the Middle East years ago," I retorted hotly, "otherwise maybe he would. But I'll ask you this: when did you last see anyone higher than a major or maybe a lieutenant colonel anywhere near the front line? No," I said, rapidly calming down again. "We need to see front line reports. Before they've been massaged and interpreted for the top brass. It could even be useful to talk to people who have just got back from the front line. Maybe sit in on a formal debrief, or do our own more informal stuff. We need to get front line information. That'll tell us what's actually happening, as opposed to what's being reported."

"I read some while ago," interrupted Jack, "that battlefield troops have video cameras attached to their uniforms. If that's the case, then maybe we can actually see some of those recordings."

Melissa shuddered, but I think this time it was simply a case of squeamishness. Rather than get her even more irritated and isolated, I decided to take charge for the moment. "In that case, Jack, you see if you can get hold of some video footage, I'll get hold of front line battle reports, Melissa you see what reports you can get hold of from more senior officers. At the very least," I said, holding up my hands to forestall any comments either of them may have made, "it'll give us an idea of how much is stripped out before senior officers see it. They may be getting what they think are the most pertinent bits, but if they aren't seeing the whole lot, what is it they're missing out on? Are they certain they're not missing out on anything important?"