Aftermath - Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Admiral Uhtavio Scorandum was balancing accounts aboard the ECO cruiser You Can’t Make This Shit Up, when a chime sounded to alert him that a ship had jumped in nearby. It had to be a friendly ship, or the chime would have been immediately followed by an alarm, and the You Can’t would have jumped away.

He glanced up for a moment, cocking his head, his antennas twitching, waiting for the duty officer’s call, to inform the admiral of the new ship’s identity. After a pause, he smiled and went back to the tedious task of balancing accounts. Whatever was going on, the crew was nervous about telling him. He could learn the information from his own display, but it was more fun to let it be a mystery, and for him to show genuine surprise when whoever got the job of delivering the no doubt bad news, delivered that news.

Bad news.

He shrugged.

Anything had to be better than crunching numbers. It had to be done, he knew that, and he knew he had to do it himself. The raw numbers had been compiled by his underlings, and everyone knew a certain amount of skimming at each level was customary and expected. That wasn’t a problem. The problem, the puzzle he had been working on for half a day was there was too much money. Someone along the chain had not skimmed, which would astonish him. More likely, someone had a nefarious scheme going and had declined to skim the usual amount, to confuse the numbers.

A nefarious scheme to rip off his organization also was not a problem, he would reward anyone who was able to scam him. The real problem was whatever was going on apparently had been operating for months, and the discrepancy only now had reached the point that he couldn’t ignore it.

Someone had gotten sloppy.

He couldn’t tolerate that.

What he needed to do was-

Footsteps in the passageway interrupted his thoughts. An ensign, an extremely nervous ensign, whose name Scorandum could not recall, stood in the open doorway, antennas vibrating with anxiety. The ensign’s entire body was vibrating. With fear. Yet, the ship had not jumped away, so there was no physical danger.

What the hell was going on?

“Ensign,” he waved to the hapless young officer. “Come in, I won’t bite.”

“S-S-S-Sir,” the ensign stood, feet frozen in place. “A sh-ship has arrived.”

“I am aware of that. What type of ship?”

“A c-courier.”

Scorandum’s antennas dipped before he could stop the reflexive gesture. “Thank you. I meant, who is the ship assigned to?” He steeled himself for bad news. If the courier vessel belonged to the 78th Fleet, and the message was that the admiral in command of those ships expected to be repaid now for the loan Scorandum had taken out the previous month, then two people were going to have a bad day. Because Uhtavio did not have the money, not yet, that is why he had needed a loan. As the humans would say, Duh.

“An, oh, uh-”

“Take a breath, Ensign. Now, let it out, slowly. Slowly. Can you speak now?”

“Y-Yes, Sir. Admiral Sir.”

“Sir, or Admiral, will be enough.”

“Yes. Yes, Sir.”

“The ship? There is a message, I presume?”

“A message, Sir, yes, but also a person.”

“A person? Who?”

“An, an Inquisitor.”

Uhtavio had been wrong. Only one person was going to have a bad day. Himself.

The Inquisitor came aboard, while Scorandum continued working on balancing accounts. Regardless of an unscheduled visit from the Court of Special Inquiries, within six days the admiral he reported to would expect to be paid her cut of the taxes Scorandum had collected from his underlings. Because in turn, she had to kick part of the money up to her superior, and so on. By tradition, when he was promoted to admiral, he was assigned to command the worst group of underperforming screwups in the Office. Of the people who were discarded by more senior admirals, only a handful of them had any potential to earn more than the cost of keeping them on his staff. Yet, he was required to kick up to his boss the minimum taxes, whether he had the money or not. Of course, there were many sources he could go to for loans to make up the difference, and the interest rates were generous. That is, generous to the lender. Ruinous to the borrower. To an outsider, the system appeared to make no sense at all, but it was perfect for the purposes of the Ethics and Compliance Office. The system encouraged new admirals to be creative, and to do whatever sketchy things were needed to scrape together the money to pay at least the outrageous minimum taxes. Any senior officer who could not find a way to make payments, well, that person clearly was not ECO leadership material.

He had screwed himself. The first couple of years were tough, he was still paying off a few loans, and still had to juggle accounts to balance cashflow, but his crew were now renowned as the best earners in the Office. Unfortunately, everyone knew that his crew was raking in serious cash, and so the expected tax payments had become astronomical.

Even that would be a manageable issue, since he had for years been skimming in a way that no one knew about, and had built up a sizable retirement fund. Most of the loans he took out were not needed, they were cover to hide his wealth, the interest paid merely a cost of doing business. He was set for life, as long as he controlled his wagering.

And as long as an Inquisitor did not look too closely at his accounts.

Damn it.

Footsteps. Different than last time. A single person, but not hurried. Not worried. Slow, confident strides. Slower than anyone would normally walk, even along the passageways of an unfamiliar vessel. Whoever was approaching his office was making a statement by walking slowly. Making a dramatic statement. Attempting to instill fear.

An Inquisitor.

Knowing that he was screwed if a team of Inquisitor AIs reviewed his accounts, Uhtavio Scorandum did feel a pang of fear. Until he cocked his head.

He recognized those footsteps.

A figure appeared in the doorway, wearing the dark robes and hood of a 1st Level Inquisitor. The figure’s face was hidden in shadow by the enveloping hood.

“Well,” Scorandum leaned back in his chair. “Come in, Inquisitor Kinsta.”

“How,” the Inquisitor froze in the doorway, and the words came out in a squeaky tone that was not appropriate for a representative of the Court of Special Inquiries. The hood was flung back, suddenly worthless. “Did you know it was me?”

“I know you, Kinsta,” the admiral grinned.

The visitor stiffened. “My title is ‘Inquisitor Kinsta’.”

“Of course,” Scorandum bowed his head. “Forgive me, please.”

“This is,” the words were delivered with a scowl. “An official inquiry.”

“I have no doubt of that.”

“Good.”

“Just as I have no doubt your investigation will fully clear me of,” he waved a claw, “whatever spurious lies have been told about me.”

“The fact that you consider these serious accusations to be lies,” Kinsta took a step inside the office, “only further convinces me of your guilt. For I also know you.”

“Come in, sit down, please.”

Kinsta frowned. No, not a frown, for his former superior recognized. The younger man was pouting. His planned surprise, his dramatic entrance, his opportunity for shock and intimidation, had been ruined.

Scorandum felt an uncharacteristic emotion. Pity. No, affection. The Kinsta he remembered had not belonged in the ECO, and certainly not in the Court of Special Inquiries. Somehow, his former aide had stumbled upward. How had that happened?

He was not worried, not yet. For a junior-level member of the Court to be assigned, the inquiry must still only be at the fact-gathering stage. Uhtavio was not being interrogated, not officially. He would be requested to provide information, and he could cooperate, or refuse to answer questions. Although refusing to cooperate had never worked well for anyone. Except for one time, and that was a special case.

So, he would play along, find out what exactly the Court of Special Inquiries wanted to know, and decide how best to take advantage of the situation. Including whether it might be time for him to go into exile, again.

“How may I help you?” The admiral asked, with all the fake sincerity he could manage.

Kinsta smiled. “A confession would be most helpful.”

“Ah. It would be useful if you could explain exactly what I am accused of.”

“That,” another frown. “Is part of the problem.”

“Eh?” Scorandum was startled. For the first time since he recognized the pattern of footsteps, he felt he might have lost the initiative. He was prepared to bullshit his way out of, whatever charges the Inquisitors brought.

“I have a confession to make,” Kinsta admitted as he sat carefully on a couch, wriggling to find a comfortable position in an uncomfortable situation.

“An Inquisitor is confessing?” Scorandum lifted one antenna. “This must be a first.”

“The Court is not sure exactly what you have done. We are certain you have done something.”

“Ah,” his confidence returned. “Perhaps you should present your evidence, and together, we might determine how I have been falsely accused, or even framed.”

“This is only a preliminary inquiry.”

“I assumed that was the case, since I am not under arrest.”

“I am here to gather facts.”

“Interesting.” He smiled. Kinsta was, after all, a rather junior member of the Court. “You have been sent here, because you are an expert at gathering evidence? I thought that phase of an inquiry was usually handled by a more-”

“I have been sent here, because it was felt that as a former member of the Ethics and Compliance Office, I am familiar with the practices, and schemes, of ECO personnel.”

“Familiar with me, you mean.”

Kinsta squirmed on the couch, freezing when he realized what he was doing. “That might have part been of the calculations involved.”

“Come, Kinsta, we know each other. We served together. Just tell me-”

“You should address me as ‘Inquisitor’,” the former aide’s expression was pained, his antennas drooping, the ends twitching listlessly.

“My apologies,” Scorandum bowed his head. “May I ask where your investigation is leading? This cannot be Home Fleet business, or I would have been called to report to a Fleet base. It can’t be ECO business either,” he realized, tapping a mandible with a claw. “Or the Court would have gone through official channels, and I would have been assigned counsel from my Office. So,” he suppressed an inappropriate grin. “What is this about?”

“Your involvement with the SkipWay multi-level marketing organization.”

“Aaaaaaah,” Scorandum leaned back again.

“Also, we are investigating the proprietary Skiptocurrency called ‘Skipcoin’ that is required to be used by Skipway members.”

“And by anyone who does business with SkipWay, don’t forget about that.”

“I can assure you that we have not forgotten that particularly egregious form of extortion.”

“Extortion?” Scorandum raised an antenna. “I feel I must remind you that membership in SkipWay is voluntary, and no one is forced to do business with us. The-” He recognized Kinsta’s agitation, and took pity on his former aide. The junior Inquisitor had come to make a dramatic speech, and the opportunity was slipping away from him. “Please, continue.”

“It has come to our attention that the SkipWay Corporation is under investigation on Earth for fraud, bribery, mismanagement of funds, and a wide variety of other malfeasances.”

“Malfeasances? Look at you, using big words, Kinsta.”

“It is Inquisitor Kinsta.”

“Again, I apologize. Officially, you may note that I am aware of the vicious and hateful allegations against SkipWay.”

“You are saying the charges are not true?”

“Oh, I didn’t say that.”

“But,” Kinsta blinked.

“The true crime is that the bribes SkipWay’s management paid were clearly not effective, or there would be no prosecution,” he snorted. “You should investigate that.”

“The scope of my inquiry is limited to SkipWay’s activities in our territory. There are numerous, serious complaints against your business practices.”

“Then,” Scorandum sighed. “This could become complicated. I am afraid I must insist that this discussion wait, until I have an opportunity to engage proper legal representation.”

“This is not a discussion, it is an official inquiry,” Kinsta emphasized the word, that was supposed to inspire fear in the subject.

It didn’t work. “While I would like to cooperate with your inquiry, unfortunately I must comply with the treaty between our people and the Glorious People’s Republic of Skippistan.”

“A treaty with a fictitious nation.”

“I did not sign the treaty, our government did. And I was not responsible for negotiating such an egregiously one-sided agreement, I merely benefit from the overeager foolishness of others.”

“You were an advisor to Skippy, while the treaty was being forced on us.”

“Yes, well, since I was in forced exile with the Torgalau at the time, and since citizenship in Skippistan was offered to me at a substantial discount, naturally I sought to loyally serve the Glorious People’s Republic, in whatever humble way I could.”

“Our government does not recognize your dual citizenship.”

“Nevertheless, there is a treaty to consider, a treaty that Skippistan zealously enforces, as I am sure you are aware.”

“This inquiry is not about interstellar politics, it is about the SkipWay cult that has infiltrated our society.”

“SkipWay is not a cult, it is a voluntary association of public-service minded individuals, who join together to enrich their lives.”

“To enrich their bank accounts, you mean.”

Scorandum blinked. “That, is what I just said.”

“You are refusing to cooperate?”

“I am helping, inasmuch as I am preventing you from causing an interstellar incident by violating a treaty. All I am doing is insisting, rightly, that you adhere to the terms of the treaty. Any disputes regarding SkipWay simply must be submitted to arbitration, in the designated court of jurisdiction.”

“A court in Skippistan.”

“That is correct.”

“Where, I understand, the so-called arbitration panel is a group of Earth domestic animals called ‘goats’.”

“Yes. We have found that using goats as arbiters greatly reduces the number of frivolous lawsuits. It is quite an efficient process. Now,” he pulled open a desk drawer. “If you have no other official business, we could-”

“As I mentioned, this is a preliminary inquiry.”

Scorandum nudged the drawer shut. “You did mention that.”

“Also, you are not under arrest, as certainly you would be if this inquiry had advanced past the preliminary stage.”

“So noted.”

“According to the treaty, you have the right to an attorney present while you are answering questions, but there is no mention of an attorney being required while I am presenting facts to you.”

“No,” it was Scorandum’s turn to scowl. “The treaty is silent about that, damn it. Someone screwed up, big time,” he muttered.

“Very well,” Kinsta took a breath, looking confident for the first time since he appeared in the admiral’s doorway. “The AIs at Central Wagering have detected a curious pattern, that was barely noticeable a few years ago, when SkipWay was first introduced to our society.”

“It is not good for powerful AIs to be curious,” the admiral muttered, but waved for Kinsta to continue.

“More recently, the pattern has become statistically significant, and has grown as the number of SkipWay cultists have grown.”

“It is technically not a cult.”

Kinsta ignored the protest. “It appears that SkipWay members have received beneficial treatment in placing wagers, such as receiving odds that are more favorable than they should be.”

“Well, that could be anyth-”

“There is also a very curious, a very disturbing pattern of wagers being resolved in ways that favor SkipWay members.”

“Hmm, interesting. I shall be sure to renew my SkipWay membership.”

“The Central Wagering AIs have concluded that the only explanation is that bookmaking has been manipulated by a very sophisticated, unknown entity.”

“Might I suggest that if that is the only explanation they can think of, it might be time to consider upgrading those AIs?”

“This is very serious! If the integrity of Central Wagering is called into question, the-”

“The questionable integrity of Central Wagering is itself a popular topic of wagers.”

“Well, yes, but that is not-”

“So, this inquiry is about whether someone, other than our own government, has compromised the integrity of the official bookmaking system?”

“That is outside the scope of-”

“Kinsta, have you been sent here, because our government doesn’t want any competition in stealing our money?”

“I am not-” The Inquisitor fumed. Official inquiries were not supposed to go so far off track. “Your SkipWay marketing materials openly state that followers of Skippy can expect to receive what are vaguely called ‘blessings’.”

Scorandum nodded slowly. “For those who work hard and are pure of heart.”

“You mean, for those who bring in a lot of money.”

“Well, to put it crudely, I suppose you-”

Kinsta reached into his robes and pulled out a data stick. “On here, I have evidence, incontrovertible evidence, that proves conclusively that the higher followers rise in the SkipWay hierarchy, the more likely they are to receive favorable treatment from bookmakers who are supposed to be entirely neutral! This is a subversion, nay Sir, a perversion of our sacred wagering system!”

Scorandum blinked, a smile growing. “Nay Sir? Kinsta, did you practice that little speech in front of a mirror?”

“This evidence,” Kinsta waved the stick again. “Cannot be denied.”

“Oh very well,” Scorandum sighed, slid out a desk drawer, and pulled out a bottle of burgoze. It was nothing special, in fact it was a cut-rate brand, the kind consumed when the buyer’s only goal is to get stinking drunk. Or for social occasions, when you don’t enjoy the company you are drinking with. In other words, the cheap stuff. “What can I say? What should I say?” the admiral appeared to be speaking to himself, while he distractedly fiddled with the bottle’s cap. Tapping it twice on top with a claw. Then unscrewing it with two twists to the right. One twist back to the left. Another twist to the right, the cap almost off. Then, he appeared to notice the bottle for the first time. “Oh,” he grimaced, screwing the cap firmly back on. “This won’t do at all.” He stuffed the bottle back in the drawer, and slammed the drawer closed.

The bottle certainly would not do, if the intent was drinking. While it appeared to contain a rather ordinary burgoze, in reality the murky liquid was a tightly packed nanofluid, that hosted a submind.

An Elder submind.

“Um,” Scorandum blinked. “Where were we?”

“You were about to confess, after I confronted you with undeniable evidence.”

“But, you have not shown me this evidence. For all I know,” he waved, “that data stick contains only a video of you performing the human fad called ‘karaoke’.”

“It is not a video. See for yourself!” Kinsta tapped the stick, and set it into a slot on the admiral’s desk. A display on the wall beside them came to life.

Showing Kinsta on stage in a nightclub, singing into a microphone. Singing badly.

“Kinsta,” Scorandum cocked his head. “Surely you could have chosen something better than the human song ‘Lollipop’.”

“That is not-” Mortified, Kinsta snatched the data stick out of the slot.

But the video kept playing.

“I mean,” the admiral shrugged, “that is just lame.”

“Why won’t this stupid thing stop?” Kinsta frantically pushed buttons on the desk.

The display stopped when Scorandum took pity on his former aide, and shut off the power. “There. Is that better?”

“You,” Kinsta gasped. “You corrupted my data.”

“Now that is a serious accusation. For your sake, I hope you have proof.”

Kinsta’s mandibles twitched. Bursting off his couch, he raced around the desk, yanking open a drawer, holding up a bottle in triumph. “Ah ha! I have you now!”

His former boss scooted back on the couch, away from the deranged Inquisitor. “Kinsta, if you want a bottle of cheap booze, there are plenty available in the ship’s gift shop.”

“This is not a-”

“I could arrange to give you a discount, for old time’s sake.”

“This,” Kinsta shook the bottle, the murky liquid sloshing back and forth. “Is not a mere bottle of burgoze.” Twisting off the cap, he tipped the bottle over so a capful splashed on the desk. The room was filled with the distinctive aroma of-

Burgoze. Cut-rate burgoze.

“What?” Kinsta screeched, dragging a claw through the fragrant liquid that was spilling onto the deck. Sniffing it, he then raised the bottle and took a sip.

Of ordinary burgoze. Not nanofluid.

When the drawer had been slammed shut, the tainted bottle had dropped into a hidden compartment, and been replaced with a real bottle.

“If you are having that bad of a day,” Scorandum said quietly, opening another drawer and getting a bottle of fine vintage burgoze, “you should drink this.” He poured into two glasses, completely filling one. The full one, he slid across the desk, to where the Inquisitor had slumped back onto the guest’s couch.

“How,” Kinsta’s voice was haunted, “did you do it?”

“It would help to know what I am accused of this time but,” Scorandum held up a claw. “Sadly, I must wait until my legal counsel gets here. Until then, we should enjoy this fine burgoze, and catch up.”

“Sir,” Kinsta’s claws shook as he raised the glass. “I left the ECO, after you were forced into exile. I couldn’t stand it anymore. The constant sneaking around, the outrageous lies, the-”

“Ah, yes,” Admiral Scorandum raised his glass. “The sneaking around and lying certainly do compensate for the dull parts of the job.”

“I considered the sneaking and lies to be negatives.”

“Hmm. Leaving the Office was the right move for you, then.”

“For a while, I served with the Home Fleet.”

“Yes, I followed your career, when I could. Then, you disappeared.”

“The Court of Special Inquiries was already opening an inquiry into you. They invited me to join them.”

“I would not have expected you to find such a position attractive.”

“They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“Oh. That does sound like the Court.”

“Now,” Kinsta sighed, drained the entire glass into his mouth, set it down with a defeated thump, and sighed again. “I have failed at this assignment. The Inquisitors will pull my license. The Home Fleet will never accept me back.”

“I am certain that the Ethics and Compliance Office would find a former Inquisitor to be a valuable-”

“Forget it, Sir. I am not coming back to the ECO, unless I have no other choice.”

“Hmm. In that case,” Scorandum reached into the drawer again, his claw coming out with a brochure for SkipWay. “Have you considered an exciting opportunity with a fast growing multi-level marketing organization?”