Unseen Friends, Unseen Foes

by Alcuin Fromm

Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7a, 7b

part 5

The next morning, after a poor night’s sleep, Lemm awoke with a pit of dread in his stomach. The excitement of discovering the robot head and activating Nickel had distracted his mind from the sudden loss of Tinnoli, his sole friend on Olmenin, and of his impending, seemingly hopeless trial. But all his fears and anxieties came crushing back down upon him as he lay awake in his bed, staring at the unfinished wall of his chamber with its exposed cables, pipes, and circuitry.

He wondered what a prison cell might be like, what other prisoners he would encounter, whether or not he could pick up his career afterwards. Occasionally, he heard a beep or ping from Nickel, breaking the otherwise oppressive silence hanging in the air. Lemm kept staring at one electrical panel in particular, letting his eyes go in and out of focus. He glanced at the wall-mounted clock, and his desolation deepened. The morning was far advanced and, in a few hours, he would have to report to the Tribunal. Lemm turned back his gaze to the electrical panel.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“May I make an enquiry?”

Lemm mumbled his assent.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” said Lemm with a shrug. “Maybe that panel there on the wall.”

“Which one?”

“The greenish one with the nodes.”

“I’m afraid my current position precludes me from viewing it. Could you tilt your datapad so my camera faces the wall?”

Lemm hauled himself off the bed and stepped over to the desk. He propped up his datapad against the desk lamp then collapsed back down on the bed, turning on his side.

“There you go,” he said. “A perfect metaphor for my life. An unfinished wall with its guts hanging out.” Lemm closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, refusing to cry.

“Oh, now I see,” said Nickel. “How intriguing. That looks to me like an old Olmeninian CentCom circuit.”

“Huh?” said Lemm.

“Before Olmenin joined the Empire, this capital city had all its various computer systems integrated into the so-called CentCom, a somewhat dated but not obsolete network. The Empire installed its own systems, those that were Empire-wide standards to ease communication and the flow of information. The old Olmeninian CentCom is apparently still present. Interesting.”

“How do you know that?”

“My CPU reconstruction project is very slow-going and allows me, as you say... free time... while certain commands are running. In my... free time... I have thoroughly integrated 38,203 interstellar databases and libraries into my memory. I began, of course, with the local Olmeninian sources and then worked outwards from there. Do you have any questions about extinct Olmeninian fauna?”

“No, Nickel, I don’t. But what about that CentCom. Is it running? Can we hook up to it?”

“I do not know, sir. I can tell you with certainty that the physical infrastructure is still intact and no order was ever issued to terminate the old system. The exigencies of installing the new, Imperial systems seem to have caused everyone to forget the old one.”

A spark of something resembling hope formed in Lemm’s heart. “Well, let’s see if we can do anything with it. Pause your reconstruction.”

“Yes, sir, it is paused.”

Lemm stood and disconnected his datapad from the robot head. The greenish panel was at chest height. He dragged over the desk and placed it underneath the panel, then attached the needle-nose connector to one of the nodes on the panel and set the datapad on the desk. Lemm waited.

“Anything?”

“The more accurate word would be ‘everything.’ I have complete access to the entire old Olmeninian CentCom.”

The spark began to smolder. Lemm sat down on the edge of his bed, snatched the datapad, and pored over everything he could find. All the major administrative buildings in the Olemninian capital were linked together. The vast majority of information, however, had been transferred to the Imperial system or removed. All that remained were lower-level automated protocols.

Lemm noticed the Justice Building was also partially linked to the old system. He scoured the data but could find nothing relevant to his case. The smoldering dimmed back down to a mere spark. He was about to give up when he noticed a subroutine entitled “Security Camera.” The spark burst into flames.

“Nickel,” said Lemm excitedly, “you can do this faster. Access the Embassy Building and see if you can connect to its security cameras.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lemm waited in anticipation.

“I have successfully connected.”

“Go to two days ago, cycle through the recordings from the main lobby. Can you bring it up on-screen?”

“Just a moment.”

Lemm’s entire body tensed. He felt like he might explode.

“Here we are, sir,” said Nickel.

A high angle view of the Embassy Building’s main lobby filled the datapad screen. Men and robots walked across the area, just as Lemm remembered.

“Move to timemark... 1-18-0.”

The screen flashed and the center of the Embassy lobby suddenly became empty. On the right side, a large mob of people milled at the doors, then started to enter. Lemm watched with wide eyes. He saw the security guards form up into a line on the left side of the screen. Then he and Fengrick entered from the bottom, moving over to join the line of guards.

The mob moved in and then Cheenyia Ropan made her move to strike Fengrick. The video made it clear she acted unprovoked and Lemm was defending against her attack, everything was perfectly visible. The flame became a conflagration of joy in Lemm’s heart.

“Record all that,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Can the new, Imperial system access the old Olmeninian one?”

“Yes, sir. It seems many automated functions, like this security camera footage, were simply left supported on the old system and accessed via the new. It is an amalgamation of disparate things, but such conglomerations are prevalent in Olmeninian history and suit the general Olmeninian temperament. Would you like to hear about how early Olmeninian settlers of the Southern Continent—”

“No, Nick, maybe another time.”

Lemm slammed his fist onto the table. “That bastard Ruuta must have seen this footage! He kept it from the media and will keep it from this trial.” Lemm smiled. “He’ll try to, anyway.”

* * *

The trial lasted less than an hour. Ruuta presented his heavily-edited datapad footage as well as the testimony of three key witnesses, all of whom claimed to have been part of a peaceful protest when they saw Lemm viciously assault Cheenyia Ropan.

Lemm’s defense consisted in simply directing the court’s attention to an anonymous media account that had been set up that morning in the Olmeninian social network. It contained one single video clip. The judge watched the security camera footage, then authenticated it with Embassy Building identification codes. He dismissed the case and Lemm was free.

Leaving the Justice Building, Lemm had anticipated a throng of reporters and media representatives, but there were none. He sighed, imagining them crowding the doors just before the verdict, then sullenly dispersing when the news came over the wire. He did not expect to hear anything more about the case.

Stepping onto the square outside the Justice Building, Lemm felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun around to find Ruuta glaring at him, his face flushed in anger.

“How did you get that security camera footage?” said Ruuta.

“Me? The heroic but anonymous media account ‘Meetrich is Innocent’ found it.”

“Don’t play games with me, boy. I know you got that footage yourself. How?”

“Whoever found it, Tribune Ruuta, he probably looked for it right where you left it.” Lemm’s voice grew angrier. “Right where you hid it because you knew it didn’t fit in with your comfortable narrative of the evil Imperial assaulting the valiant revolutionary.”

Lemm stepped toward Ruuta who took a step back in response.

“That is what you are, isn’t it, Ruuta? You’re part of the Revolution.”

Ruuta smirked. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with. You can’t hide in the shadow of your father’s tyrannical spy network for long.”

“Is that a threat, Tribune?”

“Just an observation.”

Ruuta spun on his heels and strode back into the Justice Building. Lemm couldn’t help but smile at the irony.

* * *

Six days later, Lemm sat in a glass-walled cubicle on the ninety-eighth floor of the Imperial Consulate’s Olmenin Tower One when a message arrived from Yellevar.

Consul Anróyiv had accepted the news of Lemm’s innocence with unmistakable disappointment and had immediately consigned him to the most unobtrusive, time-consuming task he could find: accounting. The Accounting Office of the Consulate handled all incoming Imperial funds which were to be distributed to the various administrative departments. It was in no way the job of an Ambassador, and Lemm debated with himself whether to object to his being so obviously swept out of the way. In the end, he decided it might be a good idea to maintain a low profile after his catastrophic failure to do so before.

A jolt of joy compounded with anxiety rushed through Lemm when he saw the small icon on his datapad. Yellevar’s message had only a simple encryption to avoid arousing the suspicion which a high-priority and heavily encrypted message would provoke among anyone monitoring Lemm’s communications. He inserted a small ear piece and called up the message. An image of Yellevar seated at his desk, looking exhausted and dejected, filled the screen. The timemark was from four Imperial Standard days ago. Lemm frowned as he began the playback.

Hello, Lemm. Best greetings from the family and from Jennok. I have been carefully monitoring the newsfeeds and info services out of Olmenin. No good news has reached me, Lemm. A criminal assault case, a plasma explosion on the ship, and then I learned from the Department of the Interior that Secretary Tinnoli has died in an accident. This is all upsetting.

Yellevar sighed heavily, and Lemm felt his heart sink.

I awaited the official verdict in your criminal case before contacting you. I’m quite pleased you were acquitted, of course, but I am not at all pleased this happened in the first place. I expect a more thorough explanation upon your return. Your visit to Olmenin is now at an end.

Lemm’s eyebrows shot up.

Your diplomatic training would be better continued on Jennok or another planet closer to the Interior. This morning I redirected an Imperial personnel transport located in your sector. It should be arriving on Olmenin within four to five I.S. days of this message. Have a safe journey and may the Creator protect you.

The man’s image blipped and disappeared. Lemm sat dumbfounded for a moment before grasping the situation. If his father had received only official Olemninian and Imperial news reports, he could not have known the true nature of the events that had occurred since Lemm arrived and even less the underlying links Lemm was uncovering. If Yellevar had no further information, he could not help but decide that Lemm’s continued presence on Olmenin would be futile, considering his son’s mission terminated upon the death of Tinnoli. As Lemm himself had insisted, he was no spy.

Lemm considered sending Yellevar a response, but knew nothing he sent would be secure. The clean comm device on the Imperial ship had been destroyed, and any long-range signal he sent would have to be through official channels that could be surveilled. No amount of coded phrasing could explain the real situation.

Lemm shook his head and returned to his work, but his mind kept turning over what he should do.

* * *

A blinking yellow light on the interior door panel greeted Lemm when he returned to his lodging that evening. He accessed the notification, learning a package was ready to be delivered to him. He confirmed the package with his datapad, then reattached it to the robot head so Nickel could continue his painstaking work.

“How much longer, Nick?”

“If my progress continues at the current rate, I should be finished one or two I.S. days.”

“Good, keep going.”

“Yes, sir.”

The package arrived three-quarters of an hour later without the name of a sender or a return address. Lemm froze, terrified as a sudden thought came to him. He held the package away from himself as his muscles tightened.

“Nick, would a hythurium-laced package get through the standard delivery system?”

“No, sir. If a package registered a zero-value on a scanner, it would be automatically separated and analyzed manually. The Empire implemented very rigorous procedures on this matter after the University Bombings on Rillon IV. Would you like to hear about how the student radicals assassinated—”

“No, Nick,” said Lemm with a sigh of relief, “not right now.”

He sat on his bed and opened the package. Inside he found a datapad and a small case. The case contained three metal vials about the size of a daily vitamin ration pill.

“Strange. Nick, take a look at this.”

Lemm placed the case on the table and angled his datapad to accommodate its camera. Sitting back down on the bed, Lemm took out the datapad and turned it on. Immediately a pre-loaded letter popped on the screen. The timemark placed the composition of the letter sometime between Lemm’s meeting with Tinnoli at the Embassy Building and the Secretary’s death later that night.

Lemm

If you’re reading this, one of two things has happened. I have either been forced to flee Olmenin or I am dead. I hope it’s only the former, but fear it will be the latter. The Revolutionaries are as close to sniffing me out as I am to sniffing them out, but this letter means they got to me first. I have arranged to have this package sent to you from an anonymous Imperial sympathizer if my daily check-ins should suddenly stop for any reason. I guess they’ve stopped.

In this package is my most precious and useful tool from the Ministry. The vials contain nano-trackers which can adhere to any surface and send back a tracking beacon to follow someone or something. There’s a separate file in this datapad to explain more.

If you can use these, Lemm, do so. I cannot stress the importance of my work and now, by extension, your work. The Revolutionaries are plotting the destruction of the Relay Station. I don’t know how they’ll try it, but I am convinced of it. The last clue I was able to obtain is the word astor, which I abstracted from an otherwise indecipherable communique.

Lemm sat up straighter. He had seen that word somewhere. He racked his mind for a moment, but could come up with nothing. He turned back to the letter.

I don’t know what it signifies, but it has some connection with the Revolutionaries and Xor. You have to find out what this means, Lemm. If the Station is destroyed, the entire sector is an open passage for a Revolutionary fleet. Other intelligence confirms they’re already massing around Raagling. Olmenin is the key to block that gap!

One final thing, Lemm. No matter what has occurred, please tell your father I have tried my best on this mission. I hate to disappoint him. Maybe you can do better. Trust in Providence!

Beranon Tinnoli

Lemm stood and placed the datapad gently on the desk.

“Sir, I believe the case contains nano-trackers which—”

“Yes, Nick, I know,” he said in a soft voice.

Lemm stared at the half-crushed head of the robot that killed both Tinnoli and a starship captain, and had nearly killed him. He gripped the desk harder and harder until his knuckles turned white. All he wanted to do was go home, he thought, but how could he abandon Olmenin now? How could he abandon the work that had cost Tinnoli his life? And yet, what could he do to help? His datapad beeped.

“Sir, you’re receiving a notification from the I.S.S. Lynx. She has landed on Platform 23-7-7 and will be departing for Jennok tomorrow morning.”

* * *

To be continued...

Copyright © 2024 by Alcuin Fromm

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