Keeping faith, Arc 6 of "Gone with the Sun"
Chapter 76 The littlest clue
Unoriginalism II
The preliminary earthside search had drawn a blank. There were no DNA sniffer tracks at the Springs airport, for example. They'd need to get the co-operation of local authorities very badly. But this was not easy. Citadel power structures did not mesh well within the UNAS, and it was hard to know who to talk to.
"So how does the dearth of bureaucrats affect talking to Huerta?"
"There are no proper channels any more, EDI, except for purely military matters, and this doesn't count. Only the Councilors have a direct line for civil or policy stuff."
New justices could not be confirmed in office because first, the President would not nominate them, and second, there was no Congress to confirm or deny them in office. Federal elections could not be held because setting them was the function of the executive and the President would not set a date until the state of siege was over. That would not happen, he said, till the Reapers were demonstrably extinct.
That meant robo-prez could direct the Federal effort as he saw fit, at least until the rumbling from the governors resulted in an Article V Convention – which was proving problematic for the noisy advocates, because there was no Congress to call one, next elections were a little more than a year away and would not fill all of the seats anyway.
Special House elections – 'by-elections' – were also problematic; there was no congressional infrastructure left to call them. The President argued elections should in any event only be held after the district boundaries had been redrawn to reflect new census results. No census was due for at least six years, so the seat apportionment couldn't even be decided without huge acrimony. It would take a positive effort on the part of the executive to resolve this, and Huerta seemed in absolutely no hurry.
So far President Huerta's major policy stumbling block in the current term was negotiating with the Mormons of their self-declared sovereign state of Deseret, for a return to the union.
Since the Mormon 'president' was a somewhat inflexible and grumpy young veteran of the Survivalist wars, who declined to live under a new-model despot, this project was taking a while. Trade, however, was thriving. It was widely expected that at some point, Deseret would be made an offer it could not refuse. The President himself said simply that if it were necessary to wait for the end of the Reapers, he personally could live with that. Since the régime overall was not so severe as the Russian experience, and in fact the Federal government had of necessity left the States to their own devices, the arrangement enjoyed wide public support.
The upshot; Huerta ruled the land guided only by the internal sense of justice of the UNAS military; his own, which seemed only quasi-human; and that of the Veep.
President of the Senate
The Veep engaged her in small talk as they waited for an orderly to bring alcohol, which seemed to be an essential social lubricant in this part of the world.
"My dear, why have you decided to grace us with your presence?"
"Ma'am, I was brought here."
"I mean, you descended from on high to visit this land of trouble and torment. You do realize the numbers involved make anyone with a job in space part of the new aristocracy? What motive could possibly bring you here?"
"Private business, ma'am."
"Nonsense, especially from someone as connected as yourself. No-one comes down to Earth, now, except to the Turian and Asari enclaves, unless they see some means of making a profit from human misery. Newsies, for example. The land riots in Oregon have produced horrors which make quite spiffy ratings multipliers."
The President, apart from a stiff bow and initial pleasantries, said nothing; but sat in an armchair in complete silence. At least at first. Kelly found him very hard to read. The Veep, less so. She was after something.
"With respect, Madam Vice-President, I know nothing of that. I simply wish to return to my native land. I was attempting to find work in Charleston. May I ask why this is worth the attention of the Chief Executive and President of the Senate?"
The President stirred. "But, Ms Chambers – or should that be Hannigan?"
"Hannigan?"
The Robot President leaned forward, clasping his hands over his knees, in a very human gesture. "That is who your genome paints you as, Felicia."
"Mind you," observed the Veep, "those are Alliance records. We have nothing to indicate you are a citizen of UNAS beyond your enlistment form for the MSV Typhoon. Not that anything is proven thereby, our primary records are dust and ashes. But your ID does appear in the census digests, which will have to do I suppose."
"There are, to be sure, some absolutely fascinating ANN stories," said the Robot.
"All I can say, Mr President, is that my long term goal is simply to go back home and try to clean it up. The title's still searchable, I checked. Once I get probate for my parents, I can claim it. Can I be be cleared to go? I realise I'll have to get a job in the meantime."
The Veep looked thoughtful. "You are, in effect, saying that our failure to find you in databases which no longer exist is irrelevant. You have a home here."
"Yes, ma'am. At the risk of repeating myself, why am I here? I was told that I had no case to answer, in the matter on which I was arrested."
The President shook his head. "You were never under arrest, Felicia." The Veep concurred: "You ask why you're here? You're in some fabulous Council transcripts."
Oho. And, oh-oh. The President's body language was curiously non-existent, but the Veep's subtle reactions indicated a trap being sprung.
"Felicia, we can take steps to see you have clear title. But are you aware that your departure has occasioned considerable angst on the Citadel? We are being petitioned by Councilor Osoba to grant an interview with the Admiralty. Is this about you?"
If Osoba's involved, surely Hackett knows that I'm in UNAS hands? But, he's not here yet. Kelly began thinking in terms of getting off-planet again:
"I see. Perhaps I should return to the Citadel, then. But there is no rush." And then hide, till I can get to the island… after everyone loses interest.
"There's also the matter of Admiral Hackett," said Huerta, "who has dispatched a handful of officers to search disembarkation records, apparently for you."
The Veep cut in here: "We prefer not to hand over a UNAS citizen. Before we get on to that, just how did you make the transition from mining crewman to Alliance Military, Felicia?"
"I'm a trained nurse now, ma'am, among other things. Initially I was just another liaison medical tech, but Dr Michel wanted me on an accelerated course after the incident with the Crucible and Anderson's body – which did involve the Council. I was granted direct admission to the final year, given my earlier qualifications."
The Veep nodded acceptance of this. Kelly judged she'd bought the story. However much she'd left out, there wasn't actually anything untrue there.
"So you are on the staff at Huerta Memorial. (Such an impolite gesture, that name.) We found you listed as a civilian Registered Nurse there."
"I was, ma'am, at least nominally, until I was offered a similar position with the Alliance. I am now on detached duty, however. As far as I know, Dr Michel has nothing to do with the Huerta Memorial Board of Trustees. If you want the name changed, you will have to ask a favour of the board, or whoever they report to."
"As I thought. Would Admiral Hackett be able to organize that, do you think?"
Kelly caught the Veep's web of desires and plans, reaching like strings into the black hole of the President's abreactions. She could tell some truth, here.
"To be honest, ma'am, I doubt there's anything any Alliance admiral can do directly. But I understand his standing with the Council is very, very high. Perhaps you could take that up with Councilor Osoba? It might be possible to broker a deal."
"Thank you, Felicia, perhaps we shall do just that. Are we done here, Christopher?"
The President favored her with a long, but not hostile, look. Kelly hadn't felt that penetrating Basilisk stare since Legion had observed her twenty minutes straight at her comm board. She'd found that difficult; Shepard, god bless him, had noticed her distress and had a quiet word with Legion. The problem went away. Now was it back?
Oh, how I wish you were here.
"I think we're done. Lieutenant, escort Ms Hannigan, or Thiers is it? – to the spaceport."
Anti-aliasing
Dramas around Lisa Fords' attempted subversion of the succession had made Huerta a polarising subject for debate, even before the Reapers. Post Reapers, people were reflecting that he might live another hundred years. To Hackett's fury, a big chunk of the population liked the idea. So now he had to negotiate. Maybe even face-to-face.
"Still no joy. Might have to go down and petition Huerta's staff in the Mountain."
Finally Hackett had worked his way up to a QEC link with the Veep, who politely informed him that Spectre and Alliance officers from Normandy, together with an AI's mobile unit, and himself, would be provided access to re-embarkation records.
Would it be possible to locate a Ms Felicia Hannigan, possibly travelling under the name of Chambers, as an urgent matter?
The Veep consulted her VI. Ms Hannigan had indeed come to official attention, shortly after arrival, travelling under assumed names, one of which was Chambers. Regrettably, she was after all a UNAS citizen in good standing, not a clear and present danger, so could not be detained, let alone arbitrarily returned to Alliance justice.
Hackett declared that Hannigan was not facing Alliance or Council charges, but there was great interest in her whereabouts.
Well, said the Veep, with DNA samples a search could be conducted for the… fugitive? There were no Alliance criminal proceedings outstanding against her? Not as such? How interesting. Not a fugitive, then?
Hannigan, or Chambers, was simply a person of interest in enquiries, said Hackett.
Ah, said the Veep. "Person of interest," how useful a phrase. The UNAS would be glad to accommodate the Alliance military in this matter, with a view of course to other mutual accommodations in future. (EDI picked up Hackett's bruxism at this.)
Perhaps the Admiral might care to join her and the President for dinner, where the matter could be properly discussed?
Always supposing this person could be found again, of course.
Fatigue
Next morning Brooks found it hard to get up. She kept the bug on throughout her surgical preparation shift, to spite Mikhailovich's minions; a wholly ineffective protest, but all she could register. The battery might die. Too bad.
Go forth, companion
She'd take the shuttle back to the citadel in the name of Miranda Chambers, which ID had not so far been used there. If Harkin was any good, and he was, this should not arouse undue interest in her movements.
And so it proved. She wore her overcoat, skinsuit, and a black Alliance military beret she'd picked up at the spaceport, with caduceus affixed – something she was in fact entitled to wear. She also brought a suitcase out of which she intended to live for at least the next month, packed with rations and an Earthside change of clothes.
By now she'd had practice with the skinsuit's omnitool interface as well as biofeedback, and for the brief interval within the Tayseri transit lounge was able to run the biofiltration at maximum, however stifling that felt. She relaxed that as soon as the Skycab took off for the ring repair site, near the docks.
As Harkin had suggested, the old Refugee camp was a good place to hide.
In the hall of the Mountain King
Some time was needed to formally visit the head of an Alliance State. It took nearly all day to organize. Hackett felt almost naked without his recon Marine personal guard, but that was a condition of access.
Not that there was appreciable risk. The Cheyenne mountain bunker had survived a close nuclear blast, and the megaton-range plastering by Reaper destroyers had just been a waste of ammunition.
Hackett, EDI, and Liara stepped off Cortez' shuttle, straight into a black GE limo which took them into tunnel main entrance. There they cooled their heels for a few minutes in the executive offices, and met the Veep for coffee. The Vice President and President of the non-existent Senate then took them straight through checkpoints to the President's war room entrance, where they paused. Since the UNAS was not currently engaged in hostilities, this volume was barely active.
The effect was dramatic, and rather lonely.
Only Air Force staff, as aides to the President, operated the comm boards. This area had been cut further into the mountain from the old 20th-century NORAD blocks.
The President stood, alone, at the bottom of the bowl in the war interface, the central bank and bell, a hundred metres off. Very slowly, Hackett, Liara, and EDI approached the head of state and commander in chief, hunched over a situation map. Mostly it showed blue, except for a pink section bordering Deseret.
The President stood up as they approached. "Ah, Admiral, glad you could make it."
They shook hands.
Next chapter: #77, "Earth abides"
Sunday, August 9, 2015