Robert Charette - Never deal with a Dragon

Crenshaw ignored the sarcasm in the director’s voice. “Of course.”

“Very commendable.”

Praise from him, even delivered sarcastically, was Unusual. Crenshaw kept her face calm, her body language unaffected by the surprise. She reached into her inner coat pocket and removed her cigarette case. Casually, she removed one of the brown-wrapped cylinders and lit it from the hot spot on the case’s lining.

Marushige smiled tightly through the entire operation. When Crenshaw had exhaled her first lungful of smoke, he opened a drawer, took out a crystal ashtray, and slid it across the desk.

“In fact, your entire record here at the arcology has been commendable,” he said in a soft voice. “Have you been enjoying your stay in Seattle?”

“It ain’t Tokyo.”

“Ay, yes. You have spent most of your long career working out of the Tokyo office.”

Crenshaw didn’t care for the way he said long. It sounded too much like a retirement speech. “We both know my record. What’s the point?”

“Your record is the point, Crenshaw- san . Both your performance here and your previous experiences in Japan make you the most suitable candidate for a very special job.”

Drek! The little fragger has finally found a job that I won’t be able to pass on. He’s so pleased with himself that it must be a suicide run. She took a long drag from her cigarette, letting the dry heat sear through her lung tissue to warm her body. I didn’t think he had the nerve to try that.

“As you are no doubt aware, one of Renraku’s senior officials, Kansayaku Hohiro Sato, will honor the Seattle arcology with a visit. He is conducting a fact-finding mission and audit for the home office. Naturally, security will be a primary concern. The Kansayaku will, of course, be expecting top-level attention which I, due to other pressing concerns, will not be able to supply in full measure. Therefore, it is my wish that you function as my liaison with Kansayaku Sato.

“You will, of course, be responsible for the Kansayaku’s personal safety as well.”

Crenshaw felt both relief and suspicion. She surely didn’t want to face an outside operation. She was too old for that nonsense, her enhancements at least a generation behind the opposition’s top talent. The assignment Marushige held out had a high risk factor but was likely not a physical one. With Renraku’s resources, no enemy would be likely to take a shot at Sato. But with such a notoriously hard-to-please executive, her career would be on the line. One slip, no matter how small, in the Kansayaku’s sight and she could kiss a healthy retirement goodbye. “What if I don’t want the… honor?”

“Your desires in the matter are largely irrelevant.” Marushige looked down at his desk console. “You seem to have been correct about an early meeting. Two of the Special Directorate have arrived.”

Tapping a key on his console, he communicated to his receptionist his decision to admit the visitors.

Vanessa Cliber announced her arrival with a bang, slamming the door out of Silla’s hand and sending it crashing into an antique credenza. Her tightly bound hair was leaking from the chignon on her neck, and her face was flushed, set in an expression of grim determination. She stomped to the desk and backhanded a stack of data disks at the security director. Cassettes bounced in every direction. Most clattered to a rest on the desk’s surface, but some escaped to the floor.

Crenshaw shook her head in open disbelief at Cliber’s lack of restraint. This was no way to make points with a Japanese.

“Just what is the meaning of this?” she demanded. “Sherman is going to have kittens.”

Marushige remained unperturbed. He stood and performed a formal welcoming bow before speaking. “Good day, Director Cliber. I do not understand your reference to President Huang, but I suspect you imply that he will be as upset as are you.”

“Damn straight”

“Well, then, it will take some time to gather the disks you have so forcefully delivered, so perhaps you can tell me what it is about them that upsets you.”

Marushige sat down as Silla moved a chair behind Cliber. She ignored the offered seat. “You know damn well what the problem is.”

The security director shrugged. He turned his attention to the other new arrival.

“Ah, Doctor Hutten. Please excuse my poor manners. Your arrival was somewhat overshadowed. Silla, get the doctor a chair as well.”

Hutten nodded his thanks before whispering something to Cliber. She gave a short jerk of a nod, then took a deep breath and sat down. Hutten followed suit as soon as Silla moved another chair from its place along the wall.

“Please excuse Vanessa, General Marushige. She’s had very little sleep in the last few days. We’ve been having some severe problems with integration sequencers.”

Marushige nodded sympathetically. “I understand perfectly, doctor. As you have arrived before your appointment, I sense that the offering of proper amenities would not be appreciated. So let us get straight to business. How may I be of service?”

Cliber snorted. “You should already know. I’ve sent you enough memos. We can’t seem to get any action out of your people.”

“Ah, yes. I assure you, director, that your memos have all crossed my desk. We of the Security Directorate are moving as quickly as possible in this matter.”

“Then your staff are all fragging turtles,” Cliber snapped.

“Vanessa!”

“I’m sorry, Konrad,” she said apologetically to Hutten, then spent several moments visibly calming herself before continuing. “Security has not approved any of our personnel requests in the last four months. We are impossibly understaffed. We need bodies. If you can’t clear the computer experts we need, at least let us have some technicians. Even researchers would help.”

“Yes, indeed,” Hutten agreed. “There were several promising ones among the last batch of personnel requests. We were especially interested in Schwartz, Verner, and Chu.”

Crenshaw stabbed her cigarette out in the ashtray that she had placed on the arm of her chair. The force of her move-meat rocked the bowl from its perch. It fell to the carpet, spilling its contents into the deep pile.

“Take this Verner, for example,” Cliber said curtly. “This guy worked in the Tokyo office for years. High-level, fast-track stuff in the operations staff. He even had citations from Aneki. What’s it going to take to get you people to approve someone?”

“Times change, people change,” Crenshaw growled.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Vemer is classified as a security risk.”

“I don’t believe I saw that notation in his dossier,” Hutten commented.

“He’s a risk, I said.” Crenshaw spat out the words. She never liked it when the soft worms in research questioned her. She expected them to know their business as they should expect her to know hers. Why wouldn’t they just accept her word?

Marushige cut off Cliber’s response. “We need not get caught up in specific situations. Director Cliber, Doctor Hutten, I have noted your formal complaint.”

“And Sherman’s.”

“And President Huang’s. But I am constrained in this situation. The Special Directorate’s responsibility is to produce a fully sentient artificial intelligence. If this is possible, it will be a feat of world-altering significance. But we cannot let our competitors steal all our hard work.”

“They couldn’t catch us in years.”

“So you say, director. But if their own research programs are caught on some point that we have already solved? Wouldn’t a spy then be able to bring them the crucial information?”