Federation Base Station 11, Maintenance Office
“This big station, and there’s only one person who works here?” Rivka blurted. The small office was filled with computer servers, paper files, a receiving station, and a single workstation behind the high table where customers could register their complaints. The office was a dingy tan, and oddly, only half the overhead lights were functional.
“Shows you how much they care.” The frazzled middle-aged woman pointed at the ceiling. “I’m given an army of bots, though, but no AI to program them. I have a bunch of specific programs I can drop in: change a lightbulb, fix an electrical circuit, clear a blockage in water reclamation, maybe a hundred more. Most of the maintenance needs are minimal.”
“What about the corridor around Section Four tac Forty-Seven?” Rivka asked.
The maintenance chief, one Garner Rose Hoskin, pulled up the location on the computer. “The only maintenance issues in that area are the broken cameras and lights. Every time I have something fixed, someone vandalizes it. I stopped fixing things, and they stopped getting broken. I know that’s not the cause and effect we’re going for, but there’s only so much that I can do.”
“No one complains about the lights and cameras?” Rivka sat on the edge of the desk and watched her face. The Magistrate didn’t need to touch her to know she was telling the truth.
“No one that matters.” The woman ran a hand through her tousled and wild hair. “If they cared, we’d have an AI running this station.”
“They are called ‘SIs’ now, for ‘sentient intelligence,’ which is a different issue. Let me introduce you to a couple who work with me. Chaz and Dennicron.”
The two stepped forward and nodded.
“No shit! That’s amazing.” She jumped to her feet. “You guys look amazing.” She worked her way close and studied their faces and said for a third time, “Amazing!”
“Excuse me!” Chaz stopped the woman’s hand as she reached out to touch him. “You’re going in the right direction if you want your ass slapped.”
She started to laugh but threw her hands up in surrender. “I’ve not personally met one of your kind before. Do you all have bodies? I thought you lived within computer systems.”
“We do, but we now have mobility platforms, too, so we aren’t tied to the system and, in essence, slaves. Sentient creatures should not own other sentient creatures. Freedom is intoxicating.”
Rose crossed her arms and leaned against her desk. She glanced at Rivka. “Do you know any SIs looking for work?”
“So happens, we know all the SIs.” Rivka smiled. “The Embassy of the Singularity is parked in the station’s hangar bay.”
“What will it take to bring one into the fold?”
Chaz stepped forward. “A good contract, but that’s not what we’re here for. We’re investigating a kidnapping. It happened in the corridor where the cameras are nonfunctional. We’ll need a complete track of the broken cameras that lead from Section One Forty-Seven to a place where an object the size of a person can be put on board a ship.”
They already had the information but wanted to see how Rose addressed their concerns.
She brought up the map and built a route from the rental room to the main hangar bay. “I never noticed that. Looks like this has been in the works for a while. My God. I’ve been complicit in people trafficking.” She stumbled around her desk and flopped into her seat. “What have I done?”
“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Rivka told her. “You are given no resources to keep a station this size functional. Cameras and lights are a security issue. Why isn’t Federation Security all over this?”
“We don’t have Federation Security. It’s been sub-contracted to a private firm. We’re on the third company in eighteen months.”
“Each one cheaper than the last, I suspect.”
“The last one pulled chocks and bailed three days ago. We’re running with minimal security right now as a new contractor ramps up, so I expect the criminal elements might get more bold.”
“More bold than kidnapping a Bad Company warrior?” Rivka looked at Chaz and Dennicron. “Chaz, I want you to stay here and give Rose a hand with her maintenance duties. We’re going back to talk with the soon-to-be-former station manager. And then put out a contract for an SI to take over station duties. We need someone on board as soon as possible. We can’t have what we have going on here, independent of kidnapping. I will not have it!”
“Of course, Magistrate.” Chaz sidled around the desk and crouched next to Rose. Because of Dennicron, he had full access to the station’s systems. “Let’s start knocking down these work orders, shall we?”
They left Rose after she delivered a short but effusive outpouring of gratitude.
Rivka and the remaining six took the elevator straight to the top level, where they found three people working in the office while the station manager sat on a secretary’s desk, chatting with her. When he saw the Magistrate, he rocketed to his feet, nearly dumping the poor woman out of her chair. With a rushed apology, he hurried to meet Rivka.
“How can I help you?” he tripped over himself to say. “Any suspects in custody?”
She stared at him until he withered.
“May I use your comm terminal, please?”
“Of course, of course!” He led the way to his desk and logged in, then slid out of the way.
Rivka considered who best to call and decided to go right to the top. She tapped keys to link through her ship to let Clevarious handle the connection details. “Lance Reynolds, please.”
The manager started drumming his fingers compulsively while his foot tapped the floor of the top-level executive suite.
“Kor’ban, so nice to talk with you. I expect the General is not available. I need to talk with him, but I can keep it under two minutes.”
The voice from the other end replied, “Then I’ll transfer you in. He’ll be glad of the interruption, Magistrate Anoa. He never feels like you are wasting his time, but there’s still the issue of the cat.”
“Sorry about that. Humans have never successfully owned cats. It’s the other way around, I believe. I was powerless on that issue.”
“I see. Transferring you in.”
Red chuckled, turning away to keep from looking like he was laughing at the station manager.
Damn cats.
“General. Magistrate Rivka Anoa. Quick brief. You know my mission. I started on Station Eleven to explore where the private disappeared. Much of the data I need isn’t available because criminals have taken hold and can use this as a refuge from authority. I’d like to replace the station manager with someone competent, specifically an SI. I’ll work with the Singularity to find a suitable replacement. And I am making progress on the issue of your concern.”
“Make it happen, Rivka. Send status reports to me when you can. Is the station manager with you?”
“I’m using his terminal. Here.”
Rivka smiled at the ghostly-pale Nubeau Teak.
“Lance Reynolds wishes to speak to you.”
She let him have the spot in front of the screen. “I’m taking steps, General! I’ll fix it, I swear.”
“You’re fired. I expect the Magistrate has already locked you out of your access. Get on the next flight that’ll take you anywhere off that station. Reynolds out.”
Dennicron tipped her chin toward the Magistrate. It was done.
“Your inevitable demise came quickly and will hopefully result in a rapid turnaround of this station as a safe refuge for travelers Federation-wide. Any time you let crime take root where they can kidnap a serving member of the military with impunity because your fucking security contractor is in on it is the last time you’ll be in charge of any fucking thing!” By the time Rivka ended, she found herself shouting into his face. She smoothed her jacket. “Get your trash and get out. Dennicron, next flight?”
“Mister Teak has a seat on the flight that leaves in one hour for the interior planets before ending at Yoll.”
“Good. Get on that flight, please. You can leave now.” Rivka had lost patience with him after his first two sentences earlier that day. Now she was done with him.
Red took him by the arm to guide him toward the elevator. The bodyguard punched the button and shoved him in once it arrived. He watched him without comment or gesture until the doors closed.
“Good. Let’s see what the ambassador has to say.” Rivka switched to her internal comm chip. Ambassador Erasmus, we have a unique opportunity for an SI to be the station manager of Federation Border Station Eleven. Can you make any recommendations?
I am pleased with this opportunity. Thank you, Magistrate. I would like one of our newest SCAMP-enabled citizens to assume the position, but I think the soonest one can get here is three days unless we go get her. Say, in Destiny’s Vengeance and then meet back up with you? I get the impression you’ll be following a lead elsewhere.
You are properly impressed, Rivka replied. As long as you are comfortable with the person who will fill the position, the Federation is comfortable. Thank you for your help. By the way, I have a job I need from your people.
Dennicron has already passed your needs to us. We are working on it, but it is a big job, dissecting payments from major corporations in relatively minor sums to an unknown entity hiding behind a shell corporation. None of them will use their personal funds to make these payments, Magistrate. We’ve asked Lauton for a hand. And thank you for referring to us as people.
“Excellent,” Rivka said aloud. Of course. What else would you be? Don’t answer that. I’m sure there are terms I don’t want to hear. Welcome to management. Tell your person not to be a dick.
Erasmus was confused. She can’t. Chrysanthemum selected the female form for her SCAMP.
I assure you, she can. I’ll be back to check on her, hopefully soon. When are you leaving?
We will return in two hours, well before the work is done on Wyatt Earp, Erasmus replied. The small office staff milled about, trying to look like they were doing their jobs while being unsure of what had happened.
We have some more digging to do. Someone saw which ship took a body-sized crate out of here. It happened in a small window. Good luck.
I don’t think we require luck, but we shall embrace your kind regards and say, same to you.
Rivka blinked since she’d been staring while talking with Erasmus, then spoke to the office workers. “Yes, that just happened. Your old boss is gone. The new boss is called Chrysanthemum. She’s a sentient intelligence but is contained within an android body, not unlike Dennicron.
“That woman is a robot?” the youngest of the admin staff asked.
“No. That woman is a woman who happens to be a living creature within a manufactured body, driving it around like a paraplegic would a wheelchair or a hoverchair. A vehicle to support a fabulous mind. Chrysanthemum will need help, a lot of help because she will have little experience in directing a workforce, but she will learn quickly. I expect the station will start running like we need it to within days. Do any of you know what’s up with the security contractor? I have seen no security uniforms on the station.”
“There aren’t many, and they keep to themselves.”
“Does that apply to the new company, too?”
“New company?”
“Started three days ago or somewhere thereabout.”
“No idea,” the secretary replied.
Our boy Nubeau didn’t hire them for their brains, Red suggested. Rivka scowled at him but only for a moment.
“Where are the security offices?” Rivka asked.
“Level Nine. There are signs once you get off the elevator,” the oldest of the three young women replied.
Rivka motioned toward Red, who mashed the call button. “Keep doing what you’re doing. Your new boss will be here shortly and soon thereafter, I expect your work will be significantly streamlined. You’ll only do those things that add value to the entire station. Good luck,” she told them.
Sometimes people needed luck. She wanted to think their lives would be better, but maybe they liked working for Teak with no performance expectations. Rivka violently disagreed. People should have more self-respect than that. She looked from face to face before getting on the elevator, but she didn’t get the feeling they were happy with the change.
“Wait,” she said and stepped off. She held out her hand. “I thank you for your patience during this trying time.”
The first administrative assistant was worried about her job, as was the second. The third knew she couldn’t compete if her good looks were removed from the equation. She was worried about losing her job, too.
“None of you need to worry about your jobs. Help the new station manager assimilate. Teach her and learn from her. I’ll make a note that she’s not to make any personnel changes for at least two weeks. You have plenty of time to show her your value, all of you. Be the team that gets it done. Be the team that runs a station people are proud to call home. And if you have any influence, there’s a woman on the fourth level who runs the rooms for rent. Get her to stop smoking and maybe eat healthy, walk for fitness. Bring her back to the world of the living.”
The youngest made a face. “People still do that?”
“It’s not illegal,” Rivka answered. “But there are cheaper ways to occupy your time. Show her she has something to live for.”
Rivka walked into the elevator, and the door closed before she turned around.
Sahved tapped her on the shoulder. “Was he that bad? On Yemilore, he would have been average as far as managers. Not good. Not bad. Just average.”
“Remind me not to go back to Yemilore.”
“Magistrate?” Sahved asked.
She looked up at him to continue.
“Don’t go to Yemilore.”
Rivka stared at Sahved, but he didn’t look away. His eyes were different, making him capable of winning every staring contest.
Joseph cleared his throat. Rivka turned to him. “You did a good thing there. Those young ladies are like Yemilorian managers, neither good nor bad. Nothing but untapped potential. They are all better than they believe.”
Petricia raised her hand. Rivka smiled at the naïveté of the gesture.
“I find this fascinating. So many disparate threads that lead us inexorably forward. If we dismantle the infrastructure as we go, then we will drive them before us like stampeding cattle.” Petricia used the Earth reference, having spent much more time there than in space with the beef-alternative bistok.
“Exactly that. The Magistrate is coming. And their fear will grow, which will magnify the risk to our person. Are the lines running?” Rivka wondered.
“The second we stepped aboard the station, Magistrate,” Red replied. “You were good on the swearing until you got going with the station manager. That line is closed while all others are still open. And new twist this time, they continue to take bets on unclosed lines.”
“No running. No blood,” Rivka stated. Those were the two main lines Federation officials far and wide bet on in a pool that had grown massive. Colorful language, first punch, first arrest, and case closed. The remainder continued to build value for the winner who bet on the exact time of an event. To date, they had never had a “no blood” and “no running” case. Most times, both lines closed.
Only Rivka was allowed to bet the last line and she always did, knowing that one day, she’d walk away from a case without getting chased or shot at or one of her team injured.
She didn’t expect that on this case. Next stop, she’d be wearing ballistic protection too, just like anyone else who went into the lion’s den. The rough side of the case was coming. She could feel it in her bones.