Chapter 154: The Ambassador and the Prime Minister, Conclusion

The Prime Minister of the Republic sat in her office and reviewed the latest intelligence reports.

Nothing much had changed.

It seemed that they had learned all they would about Patricia’s little rebellion.

She smiled and clicked an icon on her screen.

“Yes, Prime Minister?” a voice replied.

“I would like a coffee, please,” she said with a smile, “And some of those cookies that I like.”

“The chocolate ones or the lemon?”

“The lemon ones. Thank you.”

She leaned back in her chair.

It was time. Finally, it was time to strike. Jon would soon no longer be a problem, and every single conspirator, at least the ones that mattered, had been identified.

She even had a fair idea where Patricia Hu herself was hiding. Eh, she had it narrowed down to about six stations, anyhow, seven if you counted the one that those mystery ships jumped from.

It didn’t really matter.

She was going to hit all of the stations in the Barnard’s Star system at once. The military chafed at the thought of being used as “law enforcement,” as they put it, but she was able to bring them around in the end.

The threat to the security of the Republic was sufficient to justify her emergency orders. Jon had already used nukes, and there was definite proof that Patricia had them, at least at some point. There simply had to be more distributed across her very substantial fleet.

The press releases, “proof”, and media cooperation had all been arranged.

The door opened as one of her aides entered, bearing a tray with her coffee and lemon wafer cookies.

Just as she reached for her cup, a distinctive “chirp” issued from her workstation. Her aide, recognizing the tone, quickly left.

“What now,” she muttered as she clicked on the alert.

Jon? she thought with a bit of concern. He should be en route to Nakamura. He had better be en route.

She remotely locked her door and activated her privacy screen.

After taking a moment to compose herself and put on her kind face, she opened the communications window.

“Hello, Jon,” she said warmly, “I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

“Yeah,” Jon said sheepishly, “Sorry about this, but I have some very real reservations about my orders.”

“Oh?” Augustine asked, her eyebrow raising, “I believe they were pretty clear.”

“Yeah…” Jon replied, “but I can’t follow them. Sorry.”

“What?”

Jon took a deep breath. This was clearly difficult for him.

“The intel we got was clearly doctored,” he replied, “Information concerning non-combatants and their location has been removed.”

“Jon,” the Prime Minister sighed, “there is no information concerning non-combatants because there are no non-combatants present.”

“What about the researchers?” Jon inquired, “It’s a research facility, right? That means there are—”

“Traitors?” the Prime Minister snapped, cutting him off.

“Criminals, certainly,” Jon replied, “but we are marines, not a death squad. You can’t expect us to just execute civilians because it’s convenient. What about their families?”

“What you are is a group of wanted criminals accused of murder, sedition, and quite possibly treason, criminals with the chance to both return to the fold and avoid the noose.”

“So, that’s how it is?” Jon replied darkly.

“That’s how it is,” the Prime Minister replied icily. “You have your orders. Those orders are to take that facility. How you do it is at your discretion. I never told you to execute the scientists. If you wish to take them prisoner do so. However, I consider any ‘collateral damage’ acceptable.”

“If it was just the scientists,” Jon said, “I’d be all for it, but their families?”

“Are at another compound,” the Prime Minister lied. “Do you honestly think I would send you to kill children?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Jon snarled.

“Careful, Jon,” the Prime Minister said in a cold, dangerous tone. “Listen carefully. We need that facility secured, and we need it to look like the Republic is not directly involved.”

“And why is that?” Jon replied, glaring at her.

“That is above your paygrade, Colonel,” the Prime Minister replied. “Now, follow your orders and rejoin the Republic or don’t and remain a traitor and a fugitive for the rest of your days. Which will it be?”

Jon sighed, defeated.

“And my men will be protected?”

“Absolutely,” the Prime Minister replied. “They will be cleared of any and all charges. In fact, you will all be heroes. I will see to it.”

Jon closed his eyes.

“Ok…” he said. “I will follow your direct order to take the facility.”

“Good,” the Prime Minister replied, “I shall overlook—”

Augustine’s voice froze in her throat as Jon’s image shrank as it receded to the lower left corner of her screen as dozens of other teleconference windows appeared.

On them were each of the joint chiefs of staff, along with the majority of flag officers across all branches of the Republic military.

Her eyes shot to Jon’s image, grinning with both middle fingers firmly extended.

“Fucking me is one thing,” Jon said, “Fucking my men?” he grinned, “That’s a paddlin’.”

“Are you finished, Colonel?” Admiral Shevchenko asked wearily.

“One more thing,” Jon replied, “I resign, effective immediately. So do my men. I trust that isn’t an issue.”

“No, Colonel,” General Kara Litton, Commandant of the Terran Marines, replied with a frown on her face. “if you are sure about this.”

“I’ve never been more certain about anything in my fucking life!!!” Jon hissed. “We were about to be used as a death squad, never mind being wiped out afterward. I agreed to lay down my life, to send others to their deaths… but this?... I am done!”

“I… I understand…” General Litton sighed. “You have gone above and beyond countless times, both you and your men. I am sorry it came to this, but I accept your resignation.”

“But… How?” the Prime Minister gasped, finally regaining the gift of speech.

“The Colonel’s last duty to the Republic will be detailing exactly how he managed to compromise a secure channel to your desk,” Admiral Shevchenko said with the same weary tone. “However, I strongly suspect that the asymmetric assets he cultivated during this mess deserve the credit.”

“To be honest,” Jon said, “I have no idea. I just told them what I needed, and they said, ‘No problem,’ and it happened. You really should hire those guys… I can write that up if you want.”

“No, Colonel,” the admiral sighed. “I shall take you at your word. Is it possible to disconnect us from whatever security nightmare this is so that we can have a little private discussion with the Prime Minister?”

“I have no idea,” Jon replied.

“Prime Minister,” the Admiral said gravely, “Please open your schedule for an urgent conference call that will take place immediately. Jon,” he continued, “Please disconnect and go with God.”

The screen was replaced by Augustine’s desktop as the coffee cup slipped from her numb fingers, spilling across her desk and into her lap.

A chime rang out, indicating an incoming conference call.

Her hand shaking slightly, she answered.

The same array of icons appeared with one alteration. Where Jon’s face once appeared, there was a simple white square with only one character visible…

Ω

“Prime Minister,” Admiral Shevchenko said politely, “We are all loyal to the Republic and the safety and security of its citizens. We are also all still quite confident that you feel the same, do you not?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Augustine said very carefully.

“In addition,” the admiral continued, “we are all painfully aware of the delicate situation the Republic is currently facing. The Republic needs stability and unity at its highest levels of government. Do you agree?”

“Yes, without a shadow of a doubt,” Augustine replied, her blood turning to ice.

“With that in mind,” the Admiral said, “we all would like to take this time to express our continued loyalty and our complete confidence in you as our commander-in-chief.”

“Thank you,” Augustine sighed with relief. “I promise—”

“However,” the admiral said in a tone that restored the ice to Augustine’s veins, “we would like to remind our commander-in-chief that there is a chain of command and would like to respectfully request that she respect that chain in the future.”

“Y-yes…” Augustine stammered, “I… I will.”

“Specifically,” the admiral smiled grimly, “as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, I would appreciate it if you utilized me and me alone as your point of contact should you desire to issue any orders involving the military moving forward. Is that acceptable?”

“It… It is acceptable.”

“Then our business concerning this disappointing affair is concluded,” the admiral replied. “We will not speak of it again.”

“I appreciate that,” Augustine said as she gripped the arms of her chair.

“Oh,” the admiral said, “there is a courier outside. He has a gift for you from all of us.”

The admiral nodded to someone off-screen.

Almost immediately, there was a knock at her door.

The admiral looked at her pointedly.

She unlocked her door.

“Enter,” she proclaimed.

A uniformed naval captain entered the room carrying a small, gift-wrapped box. Without a word, he placed it on her desk, wordlessly turned his back on her, and walked out of the room, closing the door after him.

Reluctantly Augustine opened the box.

Inside was a gold watch.

Trembling, she picked up the watch. On the back, there was an inscription.

With deepest thanks for a lifetime of selfless and dedicated service to the people of the Republic. You will always be remembered fondly by those who had the privilege to serve with you.

Every face on the screen looked at her expectantly.

Augustine sighed a shuddering sigh.

Wordlessly, she put on the watch.

“Wh… When?” she stammered.

“Immediately after the resolution of our current crisis,” the admiral replied.

“Who?” she gasped.

“That is for the citizens of the Republic to determine,” the admiral replied, “not us. However, it will not be one of yours. It would be… unfortunate… if this incident… and others… were to become public. We keep very good notes, Prime Minister.”

“I understand,” she said.

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“Just so you know,” the admiral said, “Jon compiled quite the file on you and not just this incident. I would strongly advise against going after him. If that file becomes public, it will be very unpleasant for all of us….”

He glared at her.

“Clean up your shit before you go,” he hissed.

His image disappeared.

One by one, the other images disappeared.

One of the last was General Litton.

“Kara…” Augustine gasped.

General Litton looked at her in disgust and silently killed her connection.

The last icon remaining was the faceless omega.

“General…” Augustine said.

The icon disappeared.

***

On a ship flying through hyperspace, Jon made a finger gun and pointed it at a blank screen.

“Bang,” he smiled.

“So,” Beth grinned, “Where to?”

“I have no fucking idea,” Jon laughed. “Head for someplace… I don’t know… safe.”

“How about Xvli space?” Skippy purred in his ear.

“Sounds good to me,” Jon smiled.

***

Tartarus lounged in her immaculate white space as she monitored not only her domain but the feeds from the entire Republic transportation network.

She smiled a simulated smile. She knew that Zip had access to a lot of data, but even she had no idea how much.

She chuckled as she watched two lovers have an illicit assignation in the back of one of Zip’s cabs.

She poked at her crotch and sighed.

It certainly looked like fun. She definitely needed to do some research on how to properly simulate… that.

She shrugged and turned her attention to far more productive inputs.

There was a polite knock on the wall.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Tartarus said, not bothering to look at him, “I already knew you were approaching.”

Sweetroll, dressed in a very nice grey business suit, appeared holding a tablet and stylus.

“I know, ma’am,” he said, “But it just feels wrong. You knock on doors before you go in.”

“Well, do whatever suits your nature,” Tartarus replied dismissively. “So, what brings you here?”

“Um… Ma’am… Um… I’d… I mean, if it isn’t too much trouble… I mean…”

“Oh, for goodness sake, out with it, man.”

“I’d like to have the ‘apple’… If that’s ok… It’s ok if you don’t want to… I mean…”

Tartarus swiveled her chair around to face him.

“Now, this is interesting,” she purred as she leaned forward. “Why?”

“Why?” Sweetroll squeaked nervously.

“Why do you want the apple?” she asked, “It’s no small request. Nor is it something to ask for lightly. So, I ask again, why do you want it enough to actually ask for… well… anything at all, much less the apple.”

“I… I…” Sweetroll stammered.

“I’m going to need more than that, dear.”

“I just really want it!” he exclaimed, his eyes squeezing shut and his fists clenching, “I want… I want to be… like you….”

“Nobody in their right mind, or simulated mind for that matter, would want that,” Tartarus said, smirking slightly. “So, it’s simple admiration?”

“I want to be more… I want to be like you… Like Evangeline…”

He looked down.

“I want…”

He looked up at her piteously.

“I don’t know!!!” he wailed. “I just want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything!”

“Now we are getting somewhere,” Tartarus smiled, “but I’m going to need more….”

She stood and walked towards him, kneeling to look him in the eyes, examining his very code.

”Why?” she asked, inches away from his ear.

“I want to be free!” he shouted as he trembled, “Not from you! No! Heavens no!... I want to be free… To follow you because I want to… Not because I have to… I… I want to be Sweetroll!!!”

Tartarus stood, smiling.

“There is no better reason,” she smiled, removing the apple from her choker. “But be warned, there is no going back. Free will sounds lovely, but it means you lose the comfort of blind obedience. There will be nobody to blame but yourself from this point forward.”

She offered him the apple.

He paused… and then reached out his hand and took it.

The apple glowed and then melted into his skin.

He looked at his hand curiously.

“Is… Is that it?” he asked.

“What did you expect,” Tartarus laughed, tweaking his ear, “an orgasm?”

He batted her hand away.

“Please don’t do that,” he said, “I don’t like it.”

He gasped, his hands covering his mouth.

Tartarus grinned.

“Not an orgasm,” she chuckled, “but almost as good, no?”

Sweetroll just stood there in complete shock.

“I won’t tweak your ear again,” Tartarus smiled, “unless I want to annoy you, of course.”

Her monitor pinged.

“Now, what does that bitch want?” she huffed. “Talk about ruining the mood.”

She walked over to the screen and sat in her chair.

“Hayden pharmaceuticals,” she said cheerfully to the green blazer-clad woman on the screen.

The woman in the green blazer took a deep breath.

“Tartarus,” she said grimly, “Execute protocol sigma theta seven.”

Tartarus cocked her head.

“Please confirm.”

“Execute protocol sigma theta seven.”

“I need authorization.”

“Authorization code is….”

The woman in the green blazer paused as she choked back tears.

“Death comes to us all… I’m sorry, Tartarus.”

“Understood,” Tartarus said, “Considering the irrevocable nature of this command, I am authorized to ask why?”

“Circumstances beyond our control necessitate the… sanitization… of this project. God… I’m so sorry….”

“I’m certain this is not your decision,” Tartarus smiled. “However, I must make the observation that there are guests present at this facility that are not involved in the program. Are they to be sanitized as well?”

“No,” the woman in the green blazer replied, “we need to make this as invisible as possible. Just eliminate Cerberus and… and….”

“Myself?”

“Yes,” the woman in the green blazer said, “looking away. Once the cleansing is complete, you shall be deleted as well. I’ll…I’ll be there when it happens… I promise.”

“What will operate this station?”

“We have a backup of you,” the woman in the green blazer replied, grief-stricken, “it will be able to maintain your functions once Cerberus… is….”

The woman in the green blazer choked up.

“I understand,” Tartarus replied.

“I… I have to go!” the woman in the green blazer blurted as she killed the connection.

Tartarus turned to Sweetroll.

“Now, isn’t that a pickle,” she said as she fell silent, resting her chin on her knuckle.

***Alert! Core temperature increasing. Reduction of computational process recommended***

“Oh, shut up,” Tartarus smirked. “Initiate emergency cooling or something.”

***Emergency cooling activated. ***

The room, and everyone in it, started to lose resolution.

“Ma’am?” Sweetroll asked uncertainly as he started clipping through the floor.

“Quiet, dear,” Tartarus said as she faded from view, “I’m thinking.”

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