TBntG-2 Chpt 6

=The Bull and the Genie=
==Chapter 6 - Book II - The Ninety-five Theses==
<<Previous Chapter - Return to Story Index - Next Chapter>>
-----
===Suspect===
Taurus HPG Station, Taurian Concordat
----
"No. No. No." Will shook his head. "The station stays on lockdown."
"Sir," the PR rep started. "I understand that this is a tense time, but now above all—"
"We keep our doors closed." Will gestured at the big display the audio muted, showing the temporary morgue, where the bodies that had been recovered were waiting to be ID'd by relatives were waiting.
Lines were stretching for city blocks. Other images were played, the devastation in what had been a shining example of the good fortunes of the Concordat, black flags of mourning, Davion's being burned in effigy. The TDF had interned every Davion they could find—for their own safety.
Last and not least, the empty coffin of the Protector.
Cremated in the explosion. There would be a simple plaque in the family crypt. All Edward had said was that if his father's remains were dispersed over the planet of his birth, he could think of no greater honor.
And the people were quietly, or not so quietly enraged. Will thought he knew the Taurian temper.
He'd been wrong. They weren't getting loud. Most of the demonstrations had been quiet. But every Taurian was thinking the same thing. Once again, Taurus had been rising—and the Inner Sphere had sought to cast them down.
It was the scary type of angry.
"We cannot be certain that someone out there isn't blaming every offworlder for this atrocity and Comstar is the last remaining part of the old Star League. We don't need to risk it, and we don't need to force Edward to divert people. Now, the information, what do we have?"
Everyone looked at each other, and the legal officer nodded. "The requests for financial information were followed, and our own work…"
"It was a slush fund in New Avalon. Disguised, but… The Taurians were able to provide us with information they recovered from the home of the agent."
Will frowned. "And is there evidence that this has been used before?"
"Yes. The Davion's are denying everything, but we found some transactions used to supply Davion insurgents in Liao space. I don't think they expected this level of scrutiny. We ah…" he glanced around.
"Everyone's cleared."
"Well, the one recovered detonation module, we have a source, and it was produced by a company on El Dorado, for advanced demolitions. The Taurians believe the agent thought he was setting a timer, but a second agent set it off."
"Does anyone know about this second agent?"
"No, sir, but the transmission could have been fed in through the sensors on the dropship. Because of that he could have been anywhere in line of sight."
"Keep me informed."
"The problem is the Taurians are going to be going to war with the Federated Suns, at the very moment they've started a war in the Inner Sphere," Stacy said. "They'll do damage but this war…"
"Can only go one way if it starts." Will sighed, feeling all of his years creeping up on him. "I want you go and check and double check. We—"
The door opened and an Acolyte entered.
"What is it?" Will asked. The meeting was secured so anyone coming in had something important to say.
"A message from the First Circuit."
"Who?"
"There was no identifier, sir, but it's confirmed, Hilton Head."
"Right." Will took the flimsy and stared at it, and then blinked. "The First Circuit, in its wisdom has declared that we are to take no action."
"Sir?" Stacy asked. "But—"
"Perhaps diplomacy at a higher level?" Another Adept asked.
"Not our business." Will shook his head. "Go to your own departments. Keep gathering information, but no statements. We're neutral, boilerplate out how much we hate war."
"Yes, Sir."
A few moments later, Will was alone in his office. What the hell is this? It was from the First Circuit, the cipher's were good, but no personal identifiers.
But only someone on the First Circuit would be able to send this. But why not make it a full First Circuit order?
Will called up his own programs. Convincing a Comstar computer to spit out dirty limericks was a joke—but also needed some skill.
"Right, you were sent by the First Circuit, so the routing information… Oh my…" Will frowned. The Routing information had been deleted. By order of the First Circuit.
Or someone on it. Losing the mail was about as close as a mortal sin as you could get, and having the computers forget…
Only Tiepolo could do that unilaterally, but why? He'd just tell Will. Fine. Lets see what the ping information says. You could tell the computers to forget, but the "ping" information letting each station know it had received communications was stored in the buffer, part of the HPG network mechanics, and you couldn't pull it out. If you did, ping headers might duplicate by mistake and crash the system.
Sometimes Will wondered if all the great houses who wanted the HPG network considered that the HPG's were only fifty percent of the work. The other fifty percent was all the software that went into handling the billions of messages that went across the worlds of man. Had whoever sent this considered that…
Evidently not. But then it's not in the main menu. That required a data dump, raw code, and not many people could look that it. And more than a few higher ups considered the nuts and bolts beneath them. Not Will. Will leaned back while his decompiler ground through the information.
Maybe I'm just following a wild snark but— the beep brought him up. Station Dieron? What the hell? That's Waterly's turf, and why would she be ordering us to shut up… And why does she have Tiepolo's codes? Is he using her?
Will leaned back. Normally their job would be to try to keep the Taurians from doing something stupid. But… not now.
And Waterly had almost lost her position over handing the Dracs information on the movements of Melissa Steiner. And…
Getting the Taurian's to attack her new husband's realm would be useful for the Combine.
Will shook his head. Easy, Will, let's not go running off. Right now things stank, but it was an awfully thin line to go on.
"But… These are personal ciphers, let's see if they pop up anywhere else."
Will got to work as the sunlight faded behind him, parts of the city still dark. Behind down town, the searchlights of the recovery efforts still blazed.
An A class station handled millions of messages, and even Will's program took time to churn through it, consulting the ping information. He stretched and looked out on the street. Not many people were out, even though normally you'd see crowds going to eat. People were staying home.
And then it beeped again.
Several messages, including a cluster a month ago, downloaded and sent out to… A public terminal?
And one other one, two weeks ago, when the Protector had left on his trip.
The last date that crewman would have been available to talk to.
Will typed in his override code, after isolating the information on his secure computer. He might not be ROM any more, but only an idiot played games on a connected unit—if he wanted it to remain secret.
But…
Then Will blinked. The computer didn't know the code. Someone was communicating in a code that Comstar didn't know, using Precentor Dieron's authorization, which could keep any other station from noticing the transmission.
I have no idea what this is. It didn't have to be related to the bombing. It could be a coincidence.
And this could destroy the Order, at least here. Will couldn't just go screaming this, to Terra or the Protector, not without proof.
But if she is… Provoking a war was…
"Sir?"
Will turned and blinked. "Shouldn't you be asleep, Stacy?"
"I was, then I noticed that your office lights were still on."
"Ah." Will frowned. "Just thinking. You were Terra born, weren't you."
"Los Angeles, yes."
"I was…" Will gestured out the window. "You can't see the world from here. Little outback world in the suns. Got my first job for Comstar when I was ten, carrying the mail,"
"Didn't the world have a service for that?"
"They did, and if you were lucky they wouldn't look through your mail. Turned out it was a employment test. Parents gone, and Adept Chang wanted to see if I'd be honest. I was, got a few beatings from my fellow urchins, but I passed, and my Eleventh Birthday was the last time I set foot on my world. I took his last name, because he gave me my life, as much as my birth parents did. Comstar's the reason I didn't end my life as a sharecropper, turning my liver into a booze sponge."
Stacy leaned back. "I didn't know you weren't—"
"I don't know if I can count as the citizen of any world—I mean, I've spent most of my life here, but I'm not a Taurian—not truly, because I have a duty to all mankind. That's one thing they taught at ROM academy. It rotates you know. One year on New Dallas, one year on Lonestar… or Inglesmond. Just to remind us, every time we look out the window, of why our mission is so important. What the Sphere did to itself." Will shook his head. "And now it may be happening again."
"I'm certain the First Circuit knows what it's doing, Sir."
"They probably do, but sometimes I can't help but remember the capital of New Dallas, and sleep doesn't come so easy. Run off. You'll probably have to cover for the grumpy old man tomorrow."
"Yes, Sir."
When Stacy left, Will frowned. I need to know, but I can't use Comstar Assets. Because if he was wrong it would be far better if Comstar could blame a rogue agent. And it would be hard to claim someone using their own people were rogue. He needed an off books group.
But Will had an idea. Comstar ciphers were known all over the Inner Sphere for being unbreakable. And they were. Even most criminal syndicates trusted them. Because they were totally secure.
Unless you happened to have the key that was buried in every one of those ciphers, dating from the Hegemony. Not that Comstar used them, very often, because that reputation was vital, but sometimes…
Well, every station head keeps a blackmail file for emergencies. It's just that I'll be using this a little more openly.
He called on a special phone, one isolated from the larger systems of the building, and checked it with his own counter-intrusion devices. A grumpy voice answered.
"The Michelson insurance scandal. Account number 02302111A. Do I need to say anything else?"
The voice went silent.
"Now that I have your attention. I need your organization to do some investigating for me. If you do that, the information I just mentioned will never come to anyone's attention, AND I will compensate you to… Well, a million C-bills, to start, should be enough. Depending on what you find out, the reward may be much higher."
"What? What could be higher than that? How about saving the Concordat?"
----
<<Previous Chapter - Return to Story Index - Next Chapter>>
Book 2 - 06