Cassandra Kresnov 5: Operation Shield (58 page)

“It's clear to the Federal Security Agency, and others with us, that something has gone wrong with the way the Federation works. Perhaps we never truly paid Federal governance the attention it deserved. True power always rested in the hands of independent worlds, and given the distances and delays, the Grand Council, and the way it elected its representatives, was usually second priority. Add to that the distortions created by the war, and it's clear we have a mess.

“The Federal Security Agency has some suggestions how to improve matters. It is not the FSA's intention to tell Federation member worlds how they should govern and elect representatives to the Grand Council. But it is the FSA's purview to further the security interests of the Federation, given that we're the ones who have to sweep up the mess when it goes wrong. When our replacements arrive, as they shortly will, those replacements will assume governance of the Federation. Until that time, the FSA will form its own emergency government for the Grand Council, while it is my understanding that the Callayan Security Agency, under Director Chandrasekar, will do the same for Callay. You'll have to question him personally if you want those details, I understand there will be a conference similar to this one at the Callayan Parliament shortly.

“While holding this transitional power, the FSA will lay down the security fundamentals for the future Grand Council electoral system as it sees fit. Firstly, there will be a full security audit of all Federation member worlds. There will be a full investigation into the role of the Federation Fleet in recent events. Military complicity in political and factional schemes is unacceptable. I invite all Fleet Captains to recall again, what is being discussed here is treason. The military should not play politics. If the barrier dividing military institutions from political ones needs to be electrified to make any crossing of that barrier fatal, so be it. Current measures are clearly not strong enough. I repeat, military officers using forces in any form to subvert democratic outcomes is treason, whatever the nature of the subversion and outcomes. And I warn Fleet, the FSA's patience is ended. Captains who will not play by established democratic norms will be removed or eliminated, by one means or another. I can't be more plain than that.”

She imagined Captain Reichardt cheering when he heard those words. Or at least nodding with fierce satisfaction, since he was not a man to cheer. She and he had had this discussion before, in Ibrahim's presence, had even listed names of reliables and unreliables, and said loudly how completely sick and tired he and like-minded Captains were of the latter giving the rest of them a bad name. He'd all but volunteered to provide the bullets. She would thank him later for sending the message that may have saved her life and, more importantly, those of her kids.

“Also very important,” she continued, “we're going to set up a working
group to look at the Callayan information net. This is normally the responsibility of Callayan Parliament alone, but events have demonstrated that some Callayan infrastructure affects the security of the Grand Council as well. We all thought the net was far too large and free to control, it turns out it wasn't. The working group will invite leading experts from all across Callay with an eye toward making the net completely and totally uncontrollable.” Pause again to let that sink in. “That might seem an odd policy from a security agency, but as we see it, freedom on the net is the best guarantee of freedom on Callay. Such a policy will certainly make our lives more difficult on the level of lower operations. But on the larger scale, any network whose central protocols can be taken control of by a central government is more a danger than a benefit, its all-encompassing nature not only allowing all citizens to reach their government, but more worryingly, the government to reach all citizens.”

She thought about mentioning FedInt. That was a huge one, the FSA was going to finally have to work out its relationship with Federal Intelligence—either hive them off into a separate entity or merge them fully into the FSA. Because right now, she was prepared to bet the house she didn't own that Chief Shin had been in this up to his eyeballs, only to back out at the last moment when it was clear his team was losing, and deftly switch sides. And slippery as Chief Shin was, it was likely they wouldn't find a damn thing to pin on him in the wrap-up.

So she wouldn't mention FedInt. Some battles were yet to be fought, and revealing one's hand too early, against the likes of Shin, was a bad idea.

“So this is a genuine coup,” one of the assembled journalists interjected, with self-impressed boldness. “You're in charge, and now you're going to make all the rules.”

“On security matters, yes,” said Sandy. “That's our job. What we implement can be tweaked at a later date, as we learn more.”

“And what if an elected government wants to change what you implement at a later date?” asked a woman. “Why shouldn't we be just as worried about a Federation where the FSA has too much power? Isn't this really just a coup to give the FSA the final say on Grand Council security? And if you have the power to threaten whoever you want, doesn't that give
you
the ability to influence policy?”

Actually a very good series of questions, Sandy conceded. A fast uplink
visual matched the questioner's face with an ID—she was an independent, one of those activist academics with small but loyal followings who evidently
had
been questioning everyone, because the link showed she'd been on Operation Shield's watchlist.

Sandy nodded at the questioner. “That's why we're going to start a new Federal security agency. You won't see them much, they won't be very glamorous, because they'll be the internal investigators, the ones who keep an eye on internal functions of big institutions, including the FSA. They'll watch us, and the GC, and all institutions, for illegal and unethical behaviour.”

And weren't they all going to regret that at a later stage, Sandy had no doubt. But it seemed there was little choice. Institutional bureaucratic process could undo them all, and the FSA was ill-equipped to specialise in it. If the damn thing had to exist, better the FSA had the prime role in writing its constitution, so it didn't turn into the kind of pain-in-the-ass, semantical, hair-splitting idiocy seen in the SIB.

“And who watches them?” the journalist pressed.

“We do,” said Sandy. “And others like us. Call it the institutionalised version of mutually assured destruction. It's messy, but it works.”

“Cassandra,” came a familiar voice. Sandy looked and found Justice Rosa against one wall. He must have been deliberately keeping out of sight for him not to have registered until now. Sandy couldn't help but be pleased to see him well, whatever their differences.

“Mr Rosa,” she replied with a faint smile. Some of the journalists, recognising him and recalling their relationship, turned their cameras toward him.

“Cassandra, it appears that most of those implementing this secondary coup today are GIs like yourself. And it appears that you have removed this very powerful force that Operation Shield had assembled with relative ease.”

“I've been in actions before that dismissed many dead friends as ‘relative ease,’” Sandy said somberly. Thinking of Rishi.

“In military terms,” Justice persisted. Sandy nodded reluctantly. “This follows recent events on the New Torahn world of Pantala, and the synthetic uprising against the Torahn branch of Chancelry Corporation. The same uprising, in fact, that these same GIs with you here today were involved in. It is the same people, yes?”

Sandy gave an inward sigh. Justice just had to build it up into some
kind of dramatic point. “The ones we were attempting to peacefully resettle as a part of negotiations with League in New Torah, yes. And that Operation Shield tried to kill and make look like a coup attempt.”

“Thus sowing the seeds of the counter-coup that would remove them, yes,” Justice replied. “Director Ibrahim has a sense of irony.” Rustlings from the other reporters. Get to your fucking point, Justice. “Two hundred GIs? Against many thousands of regular troops, and one of the most advanced aerial defence networks ever established anywhere. Yet you make it look easy. GIs are apparently forming the nucleus of the FSA's special operations capability here on Callay. You yourself have noted to me that GIs are fundamentally unequal, compared to normal humans, and acknowledged the difficulties that this presents, socially and politically. Can it not be said that the FSA runs the risk of becoming the Federation's unequal, dominant institution simply based upon the unmatched military capabilities of its primary combatants? So much of strategic manoeuvering, whether between states or institutions, depends upon underlying capabilities. Who would now dare to bluff the FSA? Given that the FSA now has the power to eliminate anyone it wants, in the event of a fight?”

“The idea is to avoid fights in future,” Sandy began.

“By the imposition of an FSA-led puppeteer dictatorship?”

“Our advantage only comes into play when people start shooting at us,” said Sandy. “Best that they don't. I can promise that the FSA will never shoot first.”

“Perhaps we need more GIs?” Justice suggested. “To spread evenly between institutions?”

Sandy nearly smiled. “I suggest to Federation citizens that the defection of GIs from League to Federation is a vote of confidence in our system. And that we should all try our best to justify their faith in us.”

“Spoken like a politician,” said Justice. “All these GIs look up to you. Do you lead them?”

“My two hundred–strong democratic constituency?” Sandy replied with a faintly dangerous smile. Don't play these silly games with me, Justice. I know you want your book to sell more, but if that involves “controversialising” me in the public eye even more than I already am, you'll be sorry. “Wouldn't get me very far, would it? I think I can speak for all Federation GIs when I say that we left the League because we thought the Federation way of doing
things looked better. In the Federation, we could make up our own minds and not just do what any single person told us. Don't typecast us as brainless followers. We're individuals. Some of us lost our lives today, defending Federation democracy and freedoms. That was a choice, not a command. I hope that one day, it will be respected as such.”

The surf was really a little too big for beginners, but the thing with Danya and Svetlana, once they'd overcome the initial fear of the unknown, they became hair-raisingly brave. Even Danya, whom Sandy had suspected would retain his usual caution in the surf, now threw himself deliberately at rides he knew would dump him, as though he had something to prove. To himself, Sandy supposed. Or perhaps it was just the usual sibling rivalry, safe to indulge in now that the activity was proven non-lethal. Or maybe he was just finally acting like a typical thirteen-year-old boy.

He took off on one now, paddling hard when Sandy urged, got to his feet as the board began to run, corrected his balance with a frantic windmill of arms, and was then set as the wave built behind him, only a little over a meter tall, but plenty large and fast enough for someone who'd only first stood up two weeks ago.

“Go Danya!” Sandy yelled, echoed by Svetlana alongside on her flower-patterned longboard. He stayed on it until the wave broke, which upset the board and dumped him in the wash. And when he came up, he gave a whoop of delight, regathered his board with the ankle rope, then clambered back on. Sandy had never before seen him just having fun for such a prolonged period. He didn't like movies much, TV even less, and found most use for his AR glasses looking up League-Federation war footage, security reports, weapon specs, or other uncheerful business. He was reading more now, but that was mostly spy thrillers. He liked to exercise, but went at it like a SWAT grunt in training, running and swimming every morning, one of his only activities Svetlana would not immediately join in with, reluctant to drag herself out of bed at that hour. Surfing was the only thing he did that was not “necessary.”

“He's better than me,” Svetlana complained. She'd been standing first, not surprising given her dexterity and light weight on a big board. But the advantage hadn't lasted long.

“Well, he is three years older,” Sandy reminded her. “He's also bigger and stronger, so he can power that board around a lot more. You're so light on a big board you're just a passenger.”

“I want to move up to a short board like you,” Svetlana decided.

“You still won't be better, once he's on a short board too. Strength makes a difference. And he's a boy and you're not.”

“I want augments too!” Svetlana added. Sandy laughed. And worried, thinking of all the things that would entail. Fortunately, Svetlana was many years from being legal. She'd have to tolerate Danya being better than her at surfing through her childhood at least.

In the shallows beyond, Kiril was paddling on his boogie board, catching the wash of broken waves up to the sand. And somewhere up the beach, Ari and Raylee Sinta had gone for a walk. Svetlana still didn't like that.

“I know they've just been hurt and everything,” she'd said when Sandy told her she was bringing them, “and it's nice that you'll take them to the beach for some space. But, I mean, they're boyfriend and girlfriend now! Doesn't that bother you?”

“No,” Sandy had said. And when Svetlana had looked puzzled and a little frustrated at that, she'd added, “Look, Svet, I'm a GI. I'm wired differently. Don't waste time bothering whether that makes me right or wrong, or you right or wrong—I'm me, you're you, we're different, and whatever we feel, that's fine. You don't like it, that's fine for you, don't doubt yourself. But Ari's one of my best friends, I'll always love him whether we're together or not, and Raylee's pretty cool too. They've been through hell the last month, Raylee's got a new arm and half a new face. If I can help out just a tiny bit by giving them a lift to somewhere nice that's not a hospital, I'm going to do it.”

Ari had supported Raylee all through her recovery, had sat by her bedside despite his own mending bones and talked to her, even urged her to take the opportunity to get higher-level upgrades, now that the CSA was willing to allow it for her, given her new centrality in sensitive security matters. She'd taken him up on that, though more because it would make the transition to a more powerful synthetic arm easier on the rest of her body. By all accounts she'd been tough as hell, and Sandy found she couldn't begrudge either of them a thing. She'd left the League for a life unconstrained, and she was grudgingly beginning to see how Ari may have felt that about her. Being what she was, his loyalty to her locked him into a lot of positions that were, for him, a matter of personal choice and conviction. On Pyeongwha, he'd risked his life for those convictions. Having to tiptoe around his points of difference
with Sandy, given that he then needed to work with her on matters like Pyeongwha, pulled him back and forth in ways he couldn't have enjoyed.

Raylee was nice, smart, worked in a field probably more similar to Ari's own than Sandy did, and was so pretty that Vanessa, upon meeting her recently with the reconstructive surgery more or less complete, had admitted to momentarily tearing up her heterosexuality membership card. Given Sandy herself had gained her own looks by unfair means, she could hardly begrudge her that, nor its effects on men. Plus, Ari
impressed
her, in ways that men could rarely impress Sandy. Not that Raylee Sinta was the kind of girl who wanted a man to sweep her off her feet. But most regular human women seemed to like it at least being an option, some of the time. Ari had been her protector and mentor in hospital, and now out of it…and in time, Raylee would no doubt return the favour. And no doubt that would feel good to Ari, to be able to look after her in that way. He'd tried with Sandy, and expressed frustration with it sometimes, that she didn't listen or barely noticed. And now, here was someone who needed him. Sandy had been with Ari by choice. She'd never truly
needed
him, not like that. And to Ari, that lack could have felt like…distance.

The realisation now didn't even upset her. It was what she was. What was it that Justice had remarked to her, upon learning of her and Ari's relationship, and its recent breakup, through another of his secret sources?
It's the solitude of Kings
, he'd said.
There's only room for one person atop the pinnacle
.

No
, Sandy had disagreed.
You just find other pinnacles to place your own alongside
.

“Sandy, look!” Kiril yelled now from the sand, holding up something squishy. “A jellyfish!”

“That's a big one, Kiri!” Sandy yelled back, vision zooming on it to be sure it was safe. Now that her kids were gromits, she was suddenly taking an interest in dangerous marine life and had catalogued them all in a memory file. “Just be sure you don't pick up any jellyfish with blue spots on it!”

“This one doesn't have any spots!” Kiril replied.

“When's his appointment?” Svetlana asked.

“Three-thirty,” said Sandy. “We've hours yet; we can go straight to HQ from here.” The Shield bombardment hadn't destroyed HQ's med labs, which were functioning even as the rest of the compound howled and hammered with construction activity.

“What if they find he's getting smarter?” Svetlana wondered. “What if he ends up like some kind of boy genius?”

Sandy made a face. “I'd rather no change at all, thanks.” A passing swell lifted them, nothing worth catching.

“But they can't really tell, can they? I mean, it's all so new.”

“With Ragi's input they can tell a lot more than they could.” His brief interaction with Kiril had somehow allowed him to compile a graphical map of how Kiril's uplinks were working. The FSA's biotech doctors were a little more excited about it than Sandy liked, but at least it was helping.

Svetlana saw another swell coming and turned to set herself up for a run. “Not this one,” said Sandy. “It's too flat.” Sure enough, it passed under without ever really building.

“You know,” Svetlana volunteered, “with Kiril going to the doctors regularly, if you get really busy, we could take him ourselves. Danya and me.”

“Danya and I,” Sandy corrected.

“Crap, you say ‘someone and me’ all the time!”

Sandy grinned. “Do as I say, not as I do.” Svetlana snorted. “Well, that'd be great, Svet, if I get really busy and I absolutely can't do it. But for now I'd like to do it myself.”

“Do what yourself?” Danya asked, finally reaching them after his paddle back out. The increased exercise was beginning to show in his arms and shoulders, especially all the surfboard paddling. And his birthday was in two weeks, he was nearly fourteen, and increasingly strong for his age. Svetlana had had to remind him of the date; he'd genuinely forgotten. Sandy was wondering if there should be a big party with new schoolfriends, but Svetlana had cautioned her against it—Danya didn't exactly not get along with kids his own age, he just didn't have much to say to them and wouldn't consider a party full of them to be a very fun time. One older boy had tried to make a thing of it, show he was a tough guy, pushing around the quiet Kresnov kid before his friends. Danya had beaten him up, quite quickly, no fuss, just a methodical punch in the head and several kicks on the ground to make sure the message stuck.

And Sandy had told the principal unapologetically,
I told you it would happen to the first kid who went after him. You promised me no kid would go after him. But here we are
. And Danya had calmly shaken the other boy's hand the next day, no hard feelings, though he'd flatly refused to apologise and gave the
quiet impression the same thing would happen to anyone else who tried him. Thus far, no one had. Svetlana said with glowing worship that she didn't think it ever would. And Danya, ever methodical, had admitted to Sandy that he'd deliberately not hurt the other boy too much, calculating how much force was sufficient for deterrence alone.

Svetlana now reported that many older girls, and some younger ones, were now approaching her wanting to talk about Danya, and how a girl might gather the courage to strike up a conversation with him. Sandy wondered what a teenage Tanushan girl would make of him. He wasn't a “bad boy,” he was actually a very good boy, never broke the rules if he could help it, studied hard, was absolutely devoted to his brother and sister, was more disciplined than most adults, more than some SWAT grunts even. It was just that his rules were his own, and those personal rules preceeded the other rules every time. One of those personal rules was zero tolerance of threats that were within his capability to personally deal with. If he was threatened, then conceivably his siblings were at risk as well. He just wouldn't put up with it. Couldn't. And those who thought that made him violent were missing the point—he wasn't; in fact he hated violence. And so engaged in minor violence to protect those he loved from the worse violence that could follow if he didn't.

That some Tanushan teenage girls found that hot only increased Sandy's opinion of the taste of teenage girls. But good luck prying him away from Svetlana. Maybe girlfriends would have to wait until Svetlana discovered boyfriends. And where the hell
that
would end up…it made her head spin just to think on it. Thank God it was all so far away for Kiril at least. Kiril was all hers for years yet.

Danya was now on official probation with the school, however. Sandy didn't mind that. As she'd told him,
So long as you don't start it, don't throw the first punch, and don't use other kids’ fear of you to push them around or make them feel bad. You're the school tough guy now. It's not just a power, it's a responsibility. Don't abuse it
.

“Take Kiril to the doctors,” Sandy answered him now. “Svetlana was saying you guys could do it alone if I was busy.”

“Yeah, good idea, Svet,” said Danya. “And don't forget to get some spending money for the shopping tour along the way.” Svetlana splashed him.

“What would you rather buy when I'm not there?” Sandy asked quizzically.

“Nothing!” Svetlana insisted. “Just…stuff.”

“Girly stuff,” Danya said knowingly. Svetlana looked a little embarrassed.

“Hey,” said Sandy. “Svet, just because I'm a butch broad doesn't mean you have to be.”

“You're not a butch broad!” Svetlana protested. “You're just not very…well, you know. I like decoration.” Looking at the purple flowers on her surfboard.

“Well, I know what I am, Svet,” Sandy reasoned. “And it's hard to paint flowers on an assault rifle. But you're still discovering who you are, you're supposed to try things out at your age. Tell you what, let's go shopping together next weekend, you can buy
me
some girly stuff too.”

“Deal!” said Svetlana. “But you gotta wear it.”

“Well, you think of an appropriate occasion, because I'm not wearing it to tac simulation.”

Danya grinned, watching Kiril in the shallows all the while. “Ari said Fleet will be here soon,” he said. “A few days.” The other reason Sandy wanted to keep close ties with Ari, aside from the personal, was that she'd seen how good he was with Danya. Not just the male role model thing, more the normal-human role model.

“They're overdue,” Sandy confirmed. “I think it's a good sign. They're not rushing in with all guns blazing.”

“Or a bad one,” said Danya, “because it means they're preparing a big force.”

“Thanks, Danya, very cheerful,” said Svetlana.