Rodney Smith - First Command

Yeoman Benitez knocked on Kelly’s cabin door and came in with a message for him. He put aside the personnel files he was reviewing and took the message. It was from Scout Force operations, and said to meet up with Fleet Intelligence Reporting Officer Alistair Bennett, in orbit above Shepard. The Vigilant was to assist Alistair in his investigations. It gave the coordinates and a short-range frequency for coordination.

Kelly called in Connie and gave her their new destination.

“What’s there, sir?”

Kelly replied, “A Fleet Intel Reporting Officer and his ship. We get to help him bust up some spies.”

“Will there be anything else?”

“No, not right now.”

She left and Kelly got back to his two potential replacement chiefs’ personnel files.

Alistair awoke as his computer chimed that it was finished. It found five ships that were in or near the site of suspected espionage activity. They were all registered on third tier worlds, and were about the same type and class. All were older medium cargo ships, not unlike Alistair’s, but slightly larger. They had all been built in second tier world shipyards that were no longer in business. There were too many coincidences in this list.

He put together a short order to the Vigilant to be handed over when they docked, instructing the Vigilant to ping the transponder on any of these ships in orbit over Shepard. If Kelly got a hit on one, he was to stop and board the ship for inspection for safety and navigation purposes. One of them was passing instructions to the operatives. That should about do it. Now all he had to do was wait for the Vigilant to appear.

He turned back to his computer and had it start looking for flight plans for any of these ships in or near Shepard. As the computer quietly churned through the data, he took another catnap.

Alan Shepler contacted a source he’d used before to get information on the Blake’s FTL comms system. He dialed the number and a male voice answered, “Security, how may I help you?”

“Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry. I was trying to reach 0258-555-6768.”

He apologized for the wrong number, hung up, and waited.

Thirty minutes later, a call came in, asking for Mr. Miller. Shepler said he was Miller and the call went through.

“Mr. Miller, so good to hear from you again. What can I do for you?”

“I’m trying to build a shed. I have all the material, but I’ve lost my plan.”

“Do you remember the plan number?”

“I don’t remember the plan number, but remember that it is a three-part plan.”

“I may not be able to help you get that particular plan, but I will see what I can do. How soon do you need it?”

“Thank you, I need it as soon as possible. This is very important and I’m sure I could find some way to repay you for your kindness in this matter. You have a good day.”

Bart Morton, the chief security officer supporting the Theoretical and Applied Scientific Research Facility on Gagarin, hung up the phone and pondered over what he had just been asked. The last time he had taken a call from Mr. Miller, the job had been simple. There were no elaborate security measures for that data. It was simply a matter of calling up the data on an open terminal someone had left on and transferring the data to his pocket terminal, then he transferred that information to a data device and left it under the lip of a recently emptied trashcan in Cosmonaut Park. His very generous payment was found inside the cracked base of a cast iron street lamp three blocks away.

This ring data, however, was the most tightly secured data he had ever known. The security plan had been developed by a genius. Every security hole had been covered. Nothing had been left to chance. He would love to meet whoever developed it. It had to be someone in Fleet Intel with enormous resources at his disposal. Nonetheless, Mr. Miller had deep pockets and Morton’s mistress, Silke, had expensive tastes.

Kelly saw the small cargo ship appear as they drew closer, exactly where the coordinates given in his orders had said it would be. He ordered the helmsman to hold off 50 km from the cargo ship until he established positive communications and identity.

He exchanged code words on short-range communications with the ship’s occupant. Determining that he had the right ship, he requested permission to dock; receiving it, Kelly ordered the helm to move forward and dock.

The docking was smooth and sure. Kelly made a note to see to promoting this helmsman as soon as possible. She was his best and most consistent helmsman.

Kelly went to the hatch and cycled it open, where a tall blonde man with long hair and a full trimmed beard met him. Kelly shook his hand and received a firm grip back.

“Mr. Bennett, I’m LCDR Kelly Blake, of the Vigilant.”

“Captain, come aboard and let me brief you on what I have found out so far.”

Kelly asked if he could have his XO and Senior Chief sit in. When Alistair agreed, he called Connie and Chief B to the hatch. Alistair led them into the interior of his ship to a central conference table. A white cat was curled up on the table. Alistair shooed the cat and called up a screen at the end of the table. He motioned them to sit, then went through what he had determined so far.

He told them of the agent network, laying out every node of the network he had uncovered to date. He showed them the dead drop servicers, credits handlers, and transporters, and how he identified the spies through their use of the network forums.

Kelly pulled out his pocket terminal and transferred the data his folks had developed. Alistair whistled when he saw the data. Thanking Kelly for his parents’ work, he jokingly asked if they might consider doing more work for Fleet Intel some time.

The combined data laid out the network in detail. It showed the data flow from the spies to the dead drop servicers and network forums to the transporters. There the path stopped, until Alistair transferred in the data from his analysis of the possible courier ships. It showed the flow of credits and instructions in, but how those got to and from K’Rang space was a mystery.

Alistair held back his previous order and tasked Kelly to find the courier ship’s infiltration and exfiltration paths. He also charged him with taking out any courier ships that might be leaving with critical data. His gut told him that one might show up and soon. He passed Kelly the parameters he had developed on the courier ships to plug into the Vigilant’s computer system. Kelly passed that to Chief B.

With the preliminaries out of the way, Alistair invited them all to stay for tea. Kelly declined, and Chief B wanted to get the courier ship parameters to sensors, so they could start tracking ships coming into the system. Connie expressed a liking for tea, so she stayed behind.

It was quiet in the sector over the next few days, and Connie and Alistair had time to become quite chummy. She was constantly finding excuses to go visit or coordinate. Kelly noticed, but it didn’t interfere with her duties. Considering the loneliness a reporting officer must experience, he let it go on as an act of mercy.

The D’Ran entered the system on the far side from where Alistair and the Vigilant were orbiting. The planetary data system interrogated the ship’s data banks for name, registry, and ownership, and charged it a 200-credit system entry fee.

The D’Ran did not cause Alistair’s computer to alert because it was not like the other courier ships. It was not registered under a flag of convenience, but under a first tier world flag. It was not nondescript — in fact, it was painted bright red with an eagle’s head painted on its nose. It employed the “hide in plain sight” camouflage scheme.