Canberra Star City
Tau-44, Natio Octavarium
Director Sarah Mountbatten of Her Majesty's Secret Intelligence Service had been away from Canberra for a while now. Since before her promotion, in fact. Over the months since her assignment here had concluded, a great deal had changed. The old government was still missing since their ill-fated jump drive test, and a new, more democratic government had risen to take its place. Yet, at the same time, very little had changed. Canberra was still the same bustling outpost of civilisation, full of people from every corner of settled space, and from every walk of life, all united in the common cause of building new lives and a new nation.
The arrival of her flagship, the HMS Menzies, had caused quite a stir for Canberra's traffic controllers. A Libertonian battlecruiser was an unusual sight in the Taus, after all. After she confirmed her identity, the Menzies was quickly cleared to moor with the station. When the bored-looking customs official inquired about the reason for her visit, she told him that she was there to check on the SIS Liaison Office. That was true, of course, but it was hardly the only reason for her visit.
The SIS had acquired access to an abandoned station deep behind enemy lines, but had yet to do anything with it. After she was assigned to run the station and cleared for access to the agency's files on the facility, she immediately recognised it as being of the same class, and likely origin, as Canberra. That made her next move obvious. Before setting out for Canberra, she had the agency's best hackers and coders write a worm that would search for and copy all information on Canberra's origins, structure, and technology without alerting the Octavarium Intelligence Commission or the station's AI city manager.
As she settled into her old office, she requested a report from the current liaison, then brought up her terminal and introduced the worm into Canberra's network. Since it would take a while to run she called Wellington's and ordered a curry to be delivered to her office. Wellington's was the real highlight of her visits here. The chef had been a top-rated chef at the five-star Leeds Restaurant before the Gallic invasion had forced him to leave. He eventually found his way to Canberra and opened a restaurant serving the best food outside New London.
After her food arrived, she sat down and reviewed some personal correspondence while she waited. The first was from her mother, of course. Her work often kept her away from home and out of contact for long periods of time. The message was the usual, expressing concern, telling her about matters at home, how her father and brother were doing, gossip about other Bretonian nobility, Sarah-when-are-you-going-to-settle-down-with-a-nice-young-lady, and so on. It was honestly tiresome, but she loved her mother all the same. Sarah composed her reply, careful to avoid sharing classified information, and carefully avoiding any discussion of her love life. The rest of her personal letters could wait.
Checking on the progress of the worm, she noted that it had a long way to go yet, but there was no sign it had been detected. Knowing she'd be here for a while she settled in and used the opportunity to catch up on her paperwork. There was certainly a neverending mountain of that.
The alerts at The Spider's Watch came in almost immediately. While the Vagrant Raiders were not Lane Hackers, and indeed had often gone to great lengths to emphasize this point, they had shared a lot of technology, and the Commission often shared a lot of their paranoid attitude. Of course, when the notification of unauthorized network access is traced back to the office of another intelligence agency, "paranoid" may not be the correct term. A full evaluation of the worm would take time, so as countermeasures were deployed, Weaver made a call.
"Sundog, I need you to have a chat with our old friend Mountbatten. Preferably non-violent. She seems to have uploaded some kind of worm. You'll find out what that's about, and explain to her why that's a bad idea."
"Pardon me," a tall blonde with a clear Cambridge accent said, letting herself into Mountbatten's office. At a full two meters, Agent Sundog had often found it impossible to disguise her presence anywhere she went, which made her current employment somewhat odd. "Evelynn Fairfax, I'm with the Commission," she said, looking over the SIS agent. "So what brings you back to Canberra?" Though mostly friendly, there was a faint edge to her tone implying that this was not a social call.
SIS Liaison Office
Canberra Star City
As the Commission agent introduced herself, Sarah took a moment to check the progress icon on her terminal. Apparently, countermeasures had been deployed and the worm was stopped completely at about 25%. Uploading the worm from an SIS terminal had been a rookie mistake, but she had judged the risk minimal and thought it better to stick to the expected routine for her visit. In retrospect, perhaps she shouldn't have trusted the agency's programmers quite so much when they said it was undetectable. As she stood to greet Agent Fairfax, she touched the 'abort' key, wiping evidence of the worm from her terminal and sending all the collected data back to the Menzies. Hopefully it would be enough. Sarah shook the statuesque Commision agent's hand and invited her to sit down.
"It's good to meet you, Agent Fairfax. I'm Director Mountbatten of the SIS. I was intending to meet with your superiors once I finished my paperwork here. I told your customs officials that I'm here to check on the liaison office, and that's true, but it's not all of it, of course. I was hoping to ask your superiors about LIMELIGHT. Natio Octavarium has made some impressive advances in technology, and the Secret Intelligence Service is interested in acquiring what we can."
That was a lie, of course, but Sarah wasn't about to share why she was really here. Showing too much interest in Canberra itself might tip off the OIC to the fact that the SIS has a similar station. Acquiring LIMELIGHT scanner technology would be useful to the SIS anyway, and would adequately explain why she deployed a worm into their networks. With luck, they'd accept the implied explanation and not dig any further.
"Mm. I see." Agent Fairfax replied, taking the seat that was offered. She was, of course, not even remotely convinced, but for the moment she kept her tone in check. "Limelight systems are in fact in development for civilian deployment - not as good as what the Commission or Fleet get, of course, but more than adequate for most purposes. The Service may even find the civilian model an upgrade." She fished a small tablet out of her jacket and called up an information page. "Civilian Limelight models are, in the standard package, configured specifically to compensate for the Barrier, piercing the icy clouds and filtering out the gravimetric background noise of the local asteroids and ice. Similar adjustments have been made to the thermal scanners, automatically compensating for the thermal static that plagues lesser scanners in the region. A great asset against the Gallic invasion, I'm sure you would agree. And I hear that Aquila is working on an upscale model for certain trusted partners."
She smiled, lowering the tablet and looking up at the Director. An unlabelled alert is visible on the screen, even to the Director.
"One moment, please." She tapped her earpiece rhythmically and a faint voice came through, unintelligible past about two feet.
"Working on it. Inconclusive. Keep probing. See if it's about Canberra, we've been expecting someone to get nosy." With another practiced series of taps, the voice stopped and Evelynn looked back to the Director.
"But there are things that get in the way of being a trusted partner, of course. And Bretonia has been so inclined to simply take recently. I don't hold the matter of Aland against you, the Miners have long been suspected of having Gallic sympathies. And it could be argued that the situation with Gran Canaria was simply... inevitable. But then, how long until Bretonia decides they don't want to share the Barrier with smaller parties like ourselves or Crayter? How long until pushing us out of Canberra is... inevitable?"
SIS Liaison Office
Canberra Star City
Director Mountbatten leaned back in her chair, and allowed herself a playful smile.
"Push you out of Canberra?" Sarah motioned towards the half-finished curry on her desk. "As good as Wellington's chicken tikka masala is, we may just be tempted someday."
She dropped the smile from her face, suddenly serious.
"Agent Fairfax, you say you don't hold our actions in the Omegas against us, yet you slander us with the same anti-Bretonian slurs we've heard endlessly. Surprising, considering your origins. Let me be clear with you. Her Majesty's Government has never betrayed a friend or ally. We are not, as our enemies accuse us, engaging in senseless imperialism against helpless victims while our capital burns."
"Our annexation of Gran Canaria was in response to the Corsairs sending forces to aid Gallia in New London. Our objective was to cut off the Corsairs from one of their main sources of food in hopes that they would redeploy their forces back to the Omegas and Cambridge to relieve some of the pressure on New London. The Zoners were unavoidable collateral damage, though we had, and have, no hostile intentions against them. You'll note that we left their other assets in the system, Lanzarote and Nichols, untouched."
"As to Aland, we needed that shipyard, but that was also not an act of imperialism. The station is in Bretonian space, and subject to Bretonian law, including being temporarily nationalised for the war effort. My father, the Foreign Minister, attempted to negotiate terms to compensate them for the temporary loss of the shipyard, but they flatly refused to negotiate. While our side was still attempting to offer terms, the IMG started the conflict by firing on a routine Armed Forces patrol. No doubt at Gallic urging, considering how quickly their forces attempted to take advantage."
"So, no. Her Majesty's Government has not been inclined to simply take. Our enemies repeating it ad nauseam does not make it true. We have no interest in forcing either yourselves or the Crayter Republic out of the Barrier, nor do we have any designs on this station, as remarkable as it is. Both nations have proven themselves reliable allies against the Gallic menace, and we remember our friends."
Director Mountbatten paused for a moment to allow her words to sink in.
"I trust that answers your concerns?"
"Hm. Strong words," Agent Fairfax replied, still unconvinced. "Yet while you say you consider us friends, and you deny charges of simply being out to take things... a worm was introduced to our network today, from this computer. To me, that doesn't look like a friend asking for a favor. I may have picked up some of Escher's paranoia, but this is not what one would consider a flattering sequence of events for Bretonia."
Another alert on her tablet drew the agent's attention. "The encryption's better than average for Bretonia, but the worm has been fully stopped. A full analysis will take some time, but clearly the Director's not moving. We'll get our information from the code. Let her go, for now," Weaver's voice said through her earpiece.
She shook her head and stood up. "But, it's clear how this will proceed. You will continue to deflect, my questions will not be properly answered, and the Commission will only find out the real reason you're here when we've finished disassembling your worm and analyzing the network activity. We could arrest you and interrogate you, we already have probable cause to justify it, but for now we're choosing not to." On her way out the door, she added, "We'll be in touch when the analysis is complete. Enjoy your lunch."
Intelligence Operations
HMS Menzies, Tau-44
Director Mountbatten sat back in her chair, a log entry open on her console. She considered the events on Canberra. It hadn't gone as well as she'd hoped, but with any luck, it wouldn't be a wasted trip. The Commision's threat of arrest and interrogation had been an idle one, as there's no way they'd arrest a senior SIS official with a state-of-the-art battlecruiser parked outside. If they succeeded in divining the worm's purpose, however, the secrecy of her mission would be at risk. Hopefully they hadn't risked Bretonian relations with an ally for nothing. She paused her log entry and touched the intercom control on her console.
"CIC, Intel ops. Captain Singh, please give the order to depart as soon as we're ready. Set course for Scarborough Shipyard."
Shortly after she finished her log entry, Captain Oliver Wilson Singh's voice came over the shipboard pipe.
"All hands, this is the Captain. Brace for transition to cruise and rig for silent running. That will be all."
The last part of the order was to engage a number of countermeasures intended to reduce the Menzies' visibility on hostile scopes, as well as clamp down on any unauthorised transmissions, including unnecessary use of the ship's intercom. All but the most pressing matters would be conveyed by runners to prevent potential interception and eavesdropping. All together, it wasn't as effective as a proper cloaking device, but as long as they didn't get too close to any enemy stations or patrols, they could pass through the Taus undetected.
As the ship got underway, she began to make a list of what equipment and personnel she'd need to collect before going to her new assignment. Once the Analysis Section was done sifting through the information collected by the worm, she would transfer to a smaller, less noticeable ship for the final leg of trip. The Menzies was a fine ship, but she would take no more chances on this mission.
Once she was satisfied she had done everything she could for the moment, she handed Ops to the senior agent on duty and returned to her quarters. It had been a busy day and she needed to rest.
SIS Building
City of Westminster
Planet New London
Director Mountbatten was finalising the details of her transfer to the SIS' newest acquisition when the message from Agent Fairfax had come in. The fact that the OIC had so neatly unpacked the SIS' most advanced intrusion software was, at her prodding, causing quite a stir down in the Electronic Warfare Section. The ear-blistering rant she gave the EWS staff and management would've made her instructors at Dartmouth Naval Academy rather proud.
The Analysis Section had compared the OIC's information with what little was extracted by the worm, and everything matched up. They would still have to confirm everything as they went along, but it didn't appear that the OIC was trying to deceive the SIS in any way. Wonderful. Now she owed Agent Fairfax a favor.
All that remained now was to finish loading supplies and selected personnel onto the ship, and then she would be ready to leave. Rather than flying an openly-tagged SIS ship like the Menzies, this time she would be using one of the SIS' covert assets. In this case, the Sundancer, a Pelican-class Armored Transport outfitted as an independent survey ship. The ship would doubtlessly be noticed by the Gallic Royal Navy, but independent surveyors occasionally braved war zones in search of a payday. It was unlikely that the ship would be harrassed on its journey.
SIS Regional Field Office
Cambridgeshire, Cambridge
The Gallic bombardment of New London and the severe damage done to the capital city of Westminster, as well as the ongoing genocide on Leeds, had taken all of the Service's attention, moving other matters down in priority.
Though work was ongoing at the FCO headquarters, and they were pulling survivors as well as bodies out of the wreckage, Sarah's father, Lord George Mountbatten, was still missing. Though the relationship between her and her father had been strained for years, she still loved him very much and wanted nothing more than to have the opportunity to see him again. The prospect that she may not made their disagreements over politics and personal issues seem petty indeed.
Her brother John was a Lecturer at the University of Cambridge, and her mother, Lady Elizabeth Mountbatten, had travelled to Cambridge to be with them both, giving them a rare opportunity to be together as a family. They had attended mass at New Ely Cathedral that morning, at this point just holding out hope for a miracle. Many of the people in attendance, including the Bishop himself, were, like the Mountbattens, clearly worried about family or friends on New London or Leeds.
As much as Sarah wanted to stay with her family, unfortunately the Service couldn't afford for her to take a leave right now. Even with the war winding down, there was still a lot that needed to be done. It was time to get back to work. The preparations to leave for Fort Monckton had been done for some time, but with projections suggesting that the Gallic Royalist remnant might entrench themselves in Edinburgh and set up a government-in-exile, the Fort's discovery by the Royal Navy was now deemed inevitable. They needed a cover story, something that would explain an occupied space station, and its associated traffic, in an out-of-the-way location. To that end, the Director had assigned the veteran deep-cover operative, Agent 004, to develop a cover story and lead the public-facing side of the operation.
Sarah had called 004 to her office, a nondescript space she had borrowed from a senior analyst. The legendary (within the service, anyway) operative had yet again received cosmetic surgery and genetic alteration to take on another new identity. According to the records she could access, even 004 couldn't remember his original name or face. That information, along with the other details of the 00 program was classified even above Director Mountbatten's level. The 00 program had been borderline unethical, even by the SIS' lax moral standards, and the current leadership seemed content to bury the evidence of the program's excesses.
"Agent, according to the report you submitted, your chosen cover operation is an obscure religious sect? Tell me about it."
"Director, among more paranoid circles, there's an idea that the universe we see is being constantly changed and manipulated for reasons unknown by extremely powerful higher-order entities. The people who buy into this believe that all evidence of these changes have been erased, with entire star systems, planets, and history subject to alteration or outright removal from existence without our knowledge. They believe that these alterations are imperfect, however, and that knowledge of the earlier reality can persist in human memory, even after everything else has changed."
"Well, it's certainly novel." Sarah thought about it for a moment. "So, what you're suggesting is an isolated, but harmless, cult of people worshipping these... entities?"
"In a sense, yes. Beyond mere worship, the order will dedicate itself to recording the memories of supposedly altered events and places, as well as research in use of technology to try and "pierce the veil", as it were, to learn about the entities making these changes. With luck, that will cover for any accidental energy leakage or intercepted signals from the intelligence operation and keep the Royal Navy and Royal Intelligence from becoming suspicious."
"It sounds like a plausible cover. How will you recruit followers for the cover operation?"
"I've already spent the last few weeks, during my recovery from my identity reassignment, putting out feelers on the neural net. The man I'm replacing was known in these circles, and I've found enough people willing to join. They're all either on Cambridge or making their way here."
"Tell me about your cover identity."
"The man I'm replacing, who's face I'm now wearing, was formerly one of the Erisian cultists from Baffin. He remembered taking a pilgrimage to an impossible planet formation in a non-existent system in Gallia, back before the war, and has been trying to prove that his memory is correct ever since. His disappearance for the last several weeks should go unnoticed, as he was well known for hitchhiking the star lanes, trying to track down evidence. He was often out of contact for months at a time. We managed to grab him when he came to visit Cambridge, and I've incorporated enough of his memories that I should be able to fool anyone he's met. He had no known family or close friends that could blow my cover."
"Excellent. As soon as you're ready, we'll depart for Edinburgh. Good work, Agent."