Jennifer Wells - Beyond the Stars - At Galaxy's Edge

“I can,” Arriet said. “Divar may not have realized this since he is a relatively new representative, but there are few reporters left in Telahmir who cannot be bought for a sufficient sum. To distribute a few copies of a report on a niche issue? I bet the purchaser did not even pay very much.”

“Then who’s the purchaser?” Brook asked.

“An enemy of the IES.”

“We’re part of the Emergency Service,” Brook said. “We save people. We don’t have any...”

Arriet prompted Brook with a raised eyebrow‌—‌a trademarked politician’s gesture if there ever was one.

Brook eased herself into one of the chairs in front of Arriet’s desk, resting her forearms on the ornately patterned platinumwood surface. “I told the committee we got everyone onto lifeboats when our flip drive overloaded‌—‌and that was the truth. What I... did not emphasize was the fact that in doing so, we left the Griffin Space Technologies station behind. It was ripped apart with the Kindred Spirit . The Emergency Service compensated them, of course, but that didn’t stop Charles Griffin himself from publicly denouncing the IES. I thought he was irrationally angry over the loss of a small station like that, when he’s so rich, and he even got compensated for it, but if the IES has an enemy, it’s him.”

Brook’s certainty grew as she said it out loud. Griffin had a reputation for double-dealing in the business world and meddling in the political sphere; she was fortunate not to have encountered his company previously while serving as Captain of the IES, but there were rumors that Griffin made a fortune during the Order War by selling starships to both sides of the conflict. A petty retaliation like this would not be beneath him, and he certainly had the money to pull it off. The only question was what to do now.

Arriet seemed to agree, judging from her thoughtful nod. “In theory, this matter should be referred to a court or to the Subcommittee on Ethical Business Practices.”

Brook noted Arriet’s qualification. “And in practice?”

“You may not have the necessary amount of time.”

Brook knew Arriet was right‌—‌nearly two weeks had passed between the incident with the GST station and her committee hearing, and she had been lucky to get an appointment that quickly. Two weeks from now, the dismantlement of the IES would be well underway, its assets sold off, and its crew dispersed across the galaxy. Returning to operational status could easily take five or six months. If another space station fell into a star during that time, or a new epidemic spread across the shipping routes, or a new terror cell emerged... the bureaucrats in charge of the regular Emergency Service would do something eventually , but not with half the speed and agility of the IES.

Brook frowned at the report on Arriet’s desk. JP had been right, in a way. The bureaucracy could provide opportunities‌—‌if one were Charles Griffin. If one were an honest captain trying to save her command from a spiteful trillionaire, not so much.

Whatever delusions JP had, it was clear they were heading toward a dead end. The system of arbitrary rules that governed this planet’s bureaucracy was the glove on her fist‌—‌or maybe the pair of handcuffs binding her wrists behind her back; if she wasn’t willing to fight without them, she might as well admit defeat now. Had the stakes been lower, she would have considered doing so‌—‌for JP’s sake, if nothing else‌—‌but to give up now was to be the captain who sacrificed the IES on the altar of bureaucratic procedure.

And that was not Captain Jareyn Brook.

“You’re right.” She stood. “Time is not on our side. But I have a plan.” Brook took the personal screen with the offending document and strode out of Arriet’s office.

Maybe “plan” was a bit of an exaggeration.

Brook knew she needed to prove Griffin had paid for the document to be distributed, and she figured the first step toward that was to trace its delivery to the other representatives.

Arriet’s office was close to the front of the complex in which it resided, so Brook first made her way to the reception desk, attended to by a woman whose nametag identified her as Abigail Igoru.

“Hi!” Brook extended her arm to shake Igoru’s hand. “I’m supposed to bring a copy of this document to Representative Divar’s office, but I think he may have already received a copy. Can you message ahead and check? The title is: ‘The IES: Irresponsible and Unaccountable.’”

“Certainly, Ma’am,” Igoru said. “Or you could deliver it to them yourself. Divar’s office is number... five twenty-four.”

Brook smiled. “Why don’t we do both? If no one’s there, maybe one of his aides will still respond to his Interplanetary Network Address.”

“Of course, Ma’am,” Igoru said.

“Also,” Brook said, “do you have a coat check?”

Five minutes later, wearing a gray overcoat from the coat check’s lost and found, Brook arrived at office number five twenty-four.

A single male aide sat behind what she assumed was Divar’s desk. He looked up as she entered. “How can I help you, Ma’am?”

“Abigail Igoru.” The name spilled out of Brook’s mouth as she shook the aide’s hand. “From the reception desk,” she hastily followed up. “I was wondering if you got my message?”

The aide gave her a scrutinizing look. Brook froze‌—‌impersonating a government official was probably something that was frowned upon in Telahmir. In fact, it might be a misdemeanor.

“Did you... get a new haircut, Abigail?” the aide asked.

There was still time to claim a slip of the tongue‌—‌but Brook did not. Surely borrowing the name of a receptionist paled in comparison to Griffin’s outright bribery, and if she wanted to win this bureaucratic tussle, she could not afford to be squeamish about such small things. At any rate, this man clearly did not interact closely with Igoru if he was tempted to confuse her with an IES captain twenty years her senior. Brook dialed up the intensity of her smile. “I did‌—‌thanks for noticing!”

The aide returned the smile before looking back at the computer workstation embedded in Divar’s desk. “Ah, I have your message here. Yeah, turns out we did get a copy of that document a few days ago.”

A few days ago. That would place it just a day or two before her hearing. The other representatives must have deeply trusted the Telahmir Report’s impartiality to not recognize such an obvious attempt to undermine Brook. Perhaps if her investigation disabused them of that trust, this sort of thing would not happen again.

“For our records,” Brook said, “I need the time, date, and manner of delivery, to the best of your memory.”

The aide scratched his head. “Well, I remember it was hand-delivered‌—‌that was odd‌—‌and it was... I don’t know, about 3:00 ST, two days ago? Actually, now that I think about it, it’s probably on security footage downstairs.”

Brook constrained her excitement‌—‌security footage would be excellent, but a Meltian bureaucrat would not be excited to do more legwork in pursuit of trivial records.

“I’ll check that out, but...” Brook let her face fall into a frown. “Could you call ahead for me? Last time I tried to get something from them, they didn’t seem to want me around at all.”

The aide gave her a sympathetic smile. “They’re like that to everyone. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

Brook grinned. “Thanks!”

Brook took an elevator to the basement of the complex. Upon exiting the elevator car, she was stopped by a bored-looking security guard.

“This is a restricted area, Ma’am. May I please see your identification?”