“We will carry on our own lonely fight against the Starflyer creature who has brought about this disaster. It is not often we are able to expose one of its agents, for they are normally hidden and protected. However, in this case, the evidence is overwhelming. One person put forward the proposal to launch a starship to investigate Dyson Alpha. One person now governs the size of the navy budget. One person knows the true size of the resources we need, and continually denies us those resources. One person sends their murderer to kill their opponents. This one person is the most powerful puppet the Starflyer has ever used against us. It is President Doi herself.
“Be warned, and remember the true crisis we are facing is not the physical one from the Dyson aliens. It is the one corrupting us from within. We have always been honest with you. Now, in humanity’s darkest hour, we ask you to believe in us this one last time. Doi and her master are our enemy, she will obliterate us if left unchallenged.
“Challenge her.” The spokesman bowed his head. “I thank you for your time.”
…
The whole office was spending the morning filing reports and filling in finance department forms to cover the cost of the LA deployment. Thankfully, Paula just had to skim the summaries and attach her authorization code. That left her with some time to contemplate what had happened, although all she could really think about was Thompson Burnelli’s murder. Tarlo and Renee were busy sifting through the pitifully small amount of leads resulting from the pursuit so they could draw up an action plan. Alic Hogan had chosen to examine the camera images from LA Galactic in a virtual projection to see if the software had been handed over inside the station terminal. She didn’t object; for all he was Columbia’s placeman, Hogan was relatively efficient at his job, and it would keep him away from her for most of the day.
As so often happened with the Johansson case, LA had become a problem that had multiplied unexpectedly, and always in the wrong directions. Although on the positive side, she at least knew that Elvin was putting together another smuggling operation.
At eleven o’clock Rafael Columbia appeared in the office. He was dressed in his full admiral’s uniform, with several staff officers in attendance. Everyone in the office stopped what they were doing to look at him.
Paula stood up just as he reached her door. “Wait for me,” he told his officers, and closed the door.
“Admiral,” Paula said. She closed the file in her virtual vision that had been displaying the names of everyone she’d informed of a target arriving at Seattle, along with their time frame.
He gave her a humorless smile as he sat in the visitor’s chair. “Commander.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Ordinarily, I would say you can explain your latest fuckup. But, frankly, I think we’ve gone beyond that, don’t you?”
“Los Angeles was unfortunate, although we did learn that…”
“Not interested. It was a half-assed operation from the start. And that is indicative of the way you run things. Some target appears out of nowhere, and without any planning or prior notification you put an underresourced team on pursuit duties. Not only that, but when things go wrong, you drag half of the LAPD into the operation just in time for them to watch it blow up in our face. We’re a fucking laughingstock, Commander. And I will not tolerate that.”
Paula saw how much anger was behind Columbia’s steely expression, and realized she was going to have to confide in him. “I’m sorry about the negative publicity, but I can assure you the operation was planned with considerable forethought. I used a small team for a reason.”
“Which was?”
“I believe there is a leak of some kind in navy intelligence. I have been running isolation and identification operations for some time in an attempt to identify the source.”
Rafael Columbia’s face darkened. “A leak?” he said with false calm.
“There has to be.”
“And you didn’t bother informing me nor Lieutenant Hogan about this?”
“I was waiting for some concrete results first.”
“So then you don’t have a suspect, yet?”
“No, sir, not yet.”
“Outside your suspicions, is there a single shred of evidence to back up this allegation against your fellow officers?”
“I believe Venice Coast was…”
“Ah! The other very public setback you inflicted on us.”
“As I was saying,” she said forcefully. “Venice Coast was leaked. The unknown attacker must have received information from a source inside the navy.”
“And this unknown attacker, who was wetwired with the most sophisticated armaments the Commonwealth can produce, is working for Johansson’s Starflyer?”
“That is an option.”
“An option you’ve been shouting very loudly to your political allies.”
“Somebody has been deflecting my investigation for decades. I need to start widening my approach.” She just held back from telling him what Thompson Burnelli had told her.
Rafael Columbia took a small paperscreen from his pocket. He held it up as it unfurled. “Recognize him?”
Paula stared at the image on the paperscreen. “That’s the Venice Coast attacker.” The image had been taken from a bad overhead angle, and he was wearing sports whites, but she would never mistake that face.
“I’m glad we agree on something. That image was given to me by Senate Security. It was taken by a camera at the Clinton Estate. That is the man who walked out of Thompson Burnelli’s squash court after the Senator was murdered.”
“He wouldn’t,” she whispered in horror. Sheldon eliminating his political opponents? I don’t believe it. That’s not how the Grand Families and Intersolar Dynasties operate. Something is wrong about this. Badly wrong.
“Who wouldn’t?” Rafael demanded.
“The murderer. Why would he be used to kill the Senator?”
“I don’t fucking know. But according to you, he goes around causing mayhem on the orders of a navy officer.”
“I did not say that, and you’re a fool if that’s what you think.”
Rafael Columbia sat back in the chair and gave her a steady look. “When I became chief of the Directorate I was just as impressed with you as all those media morons you play up to in your trials. The legendary Paula Myo, who solves all her cases except one, and she’s still working on that after all these decades—never giving up. So like all the other chiefs before me, I gave you plenty of space, and never questioned your methods. After all, Johansson and his sidekick are just a pair of lunatic conspiracy fanatics spouting paranoid propaganda. Kind of romantic really, like pirates in sailing ships. Because the only physical damage the Guardians cause is on Far Away, where nobody ever goes, and certainly nobody cares about apart from the Halgarths, and they can afford it anyway. Except, the pirates were actually the most bloodthirsty psychopaths, who slaughtered the crews of entire ships and wrecked economies because of the trade routes they closed down. You see the parallel here? It took decisive naval action to eliminate piracy. Now I gave you an entire department, with unlimited government resources, tasked to do one thing. I gave you that in good faith, because you arethe Paula Myo, and everyone believes you are the one person in the Commonwealth who can run down Bradley Johansson for me.”
“I can.”
“You haven’t. The reason you’re still chasing him—and I’m sorry if this causes offense, but it happens to be true—is that you’re an obsessive compulsive. The only reason, Commander Myo.”
“I am what I am. And that makes me perfect for the job.”
“I disagree. You have poor leadership skills; you antagonize and alienate your fellow officers; you do not follow procedure; you do not believe anyone is capable of performing tasks as well as yourself—in other words you belittle them and are distrustful of them, which is why we find ourselves in this whole business of leaks. It has to be a leak, doesn’t it, because it couldn’t possibly be your fault, your screwup.”
“Would you like to say what you came here to say?”
“Certainly. As of now, I am appointing Alic Hogan to take charge of the Johansson operation.”
“No.”
“You will continue to be a part of the operation, of course, but it will be in an advisory role only. Hogan will direct the day-to-day running of this office, and facilitate policy and strategy.”
“That is not acceptable.”
“You are a navy officer, you will obey my orders.”
“I am not a navy officer, I am not a part of this bureaucratic farce. I am a police officer.”
“Not anymore. If you refuse my order you will be dismissed from the service.”
“This is my investigation.”
“It is not.”
Paula’s e-butler told her it had just been locked out of the office network. She gazed over the desk at Rafael Columbia; some kind of shock was holding her body rigid, she could feel her skin cooling. Some sick feeling that she suspected was close to panic had begun to clog her thoughts. It was obvious Rafael wasn’t going to accept a compromise, he wanted his man running the operation, LA was just the excuse. One thing was perfectly clear, she couldn’t continue the investigation as part of the navy.
“Fine. I resign my commission.” Paula stood up, which made Columbia flinch. She picked the quartz cube hologram off her desk and put it in her shoulder bag, then she took the rabbakas plant from the windowsill.
“Word of advice,” Columbia said. “Next time you get rejuvenated, get your Foundation fixed dominants taken out. The clinics can make anybody normal these days.”
She raised an eyebrow in interest. “There’s hope for you yet, then.”
Everybody in the office was sitting behind their desks as she walked out, holding the same position they were in when Columbia arrived. The only difference was the surprise on their faces.
“Good-bye,” she told them. “And thank you for all the hard work you did for me.”
