“Makes sense.” In truth, Brook hadn’t realized there was a possibility that the committee’s orders might take effect even if they were to find a ship. But that was why she had JP. “Anyway, I think we need to figure out why they denied us in the first place—I mean, we are a popular organization, right? Yet they all seemed to hate us. Except for... I need to talk to someone.”
Brook abruptly turned back toward the committee’s chambers and was about to push on the door when it swung open from the inside.
Representative Arriet’s eyes were fiery as she closed the door behind her, but Brook immediately got the sense that the representative’s anger was not directed at her.
“We have hundreds of ships,” Arriet said. “Hundreds of inactive vessels in orbit around Meltia, left over from the Order War. We’ve given them to agencies with a tenth of the distinction of the IES. We’ve sold the older ones as scrap metal. You should have gotten one.”
Brook blinked. “Yes. I agree. Why didn’t I?”
“I don’t know,” Arriet said. “Divar and the others—they were acting so strangely. Like they knew something I didn’t.”
Brook spread her arms. “We have nothing to hide. Is there any way you could figure out why they were so hostile?”
“Perhaps.” Arriet threw a glance back at the committee chamber. “But only if Divar doesn’t realize I’m helping you. He was very upset I did not vote with the majority. Meet one of my aides tomorrow at the center of Freedom Square, 7:00 Standard Time. Do not wear your uniform.”
“I’ll be there.” Brook glanced at JP.
“I will look into alternative—”
JP cut himself off as the committee’s door offered up its characteristic squeal—if that awful thing had any benefit, it was that nobody could sneak up on them through it.
An aide stood in the doorway. “Representative Arriet?”
Brook folded her arms and glared at Arriet. “I don’t care what you voted for—your committee killed my agency. So why don’t you go scurrying back to them, politician?” The resentment was not difficult to fake.
Arriet shot a haughty look back at Brook. “Well, then, I apologize for trying to help you. It’s quite clear you don’t deserve it.”
Representative Arriet turned and strode back into the committee chamber, the outmoded door screeching like the metaphorical cogs of bureaucracy itself.
“What in the galaxy is that?” Representative Arriet scrutinized Brook’s double breasted crimson leather jacket as the IES captain stepped into Arriet’s office. The aide who had met Brook at Freedom Square let himself out.
“Until recently, I lived on a starship,” Brook said. “Didn’t have anything but IES black. So we had to go shopping—and I was told this was high fashion on Meltia.”
“That it is,” Arriet said, “but my intention was for you to be inconspicuous. Did you see any other committee members on your way in?”
“No one at all,” Brook said. “Your aide brought me in through some back entrance. Are they looking for me?”
“They shouldn’t be, but we don’t want to give them ideas.” Arriet shook her head, pulling a personal screen from a compartment in her desk. “Especially now that I’ve found the source of your problems.”
Brook reached out to take the screen. It displayed a document with a block font heading that tightened the grip of her hands around the device: “THE IES: IRRESPONSIBLE AND UNACCOUNTABLE.” Below the title was the logo of the Telahmir Report, a major Meltian news agency.
“Why have I never seen this before?” Brook asked. JP kept tabs on news articles concerning the IES—surely this would have come to his attention.
“As far as I know, only a handful of copies were ever distributed—all of them to Divar and the other members of our subcommittee. I didn’t know about it myself until I sent my aides to do some digging—I suspect they did not send it to me because they knew I would see through it.”
Brook swiped past the table of contents to the main body of the text, skimming the first page. Every paragraph presented a new example of how the IES—and by extension, Brook—pursued their mission with reckless abandon, causing hundreds of civilian casualties in the process. The facts would be shocking if not for the fact that every single one of them was false.
“This is nonsense.” Brook felt her face heat as she tossed the screen onto Arriet’s desk, stabbing her finger at a particularly offending example. “Frinid isn’t even part of the Meltian Republic—the IES has never been there, much less burned down one of their cities. I can’t believe the Telahmir Report distributed this.”
“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.