Part 26 (2/2)
”It seems like standard protocol to me,” Klein said. ”n.o.body ever answers anything I send them, so why should this be any different?”
Rogers let that sink in for a second. Why wouldn't anyone at MGN headquarters answer any of Klein's messages? It was possible that the MGN simply didn't want to get involved. They'd placed the 331st here for a reason, after all. Was there something wrong with the communication systems? But other members on the s.h.i.+p must be sending and receiving messages, too. Troops would notice if all of a sudden they stopped receiving messages from their families. So, what was different about Klein's requests? Why would MGN HQ ignore them? If they were being jammed, the communications squadron would definitely know. And how could you jam only one person's correspondence?
”Admiral,” Rogers said, standing up and walking over to the terminal. ”Can you send a message to MGN HQ for me?”
Klein looked at him sideways. ”But you just told me I can't send messages anymore.”
”Well, we have a problem” Rogers said, thinking rapidly. He had to test his theory, had to send a message to MGN HQ that he knew they weren't going to ignore. ”Some of the troops have been talking to me lately, and it appears . . .” He hesitated a moment. ”It appears that all of them have been receiving double their pay.”
”Double their pay?” Klein said, aghast.
Rogers nodded gravely. ”And unfortunately, if we don't stop this immediately, the whole s.h.i.+p is going to go bankrupt.”
”Rogers,” Deet said, ”this information doesn't appear to have any basis in-”
”Deet, I put those arms and legs back on you, and I can take them off again.”
Deep beeped contritely but remained silent.
”Anyway,” Rogers said, turning back to Klein, ”it's very important that you transmit that message right away before all of the money goes away.”
Klein looked at him for a moment, his eyes narrow. It actually looked like the man might have been thinking. Or p.o.o.ping. It was sometimes difficult to tell the difference.I For a moment, Rogers thought Klein was about to see through his hastily but brilliantly concocted ruse.
”Fine,” Klein said. ”I'll send the message. And I'm docking half your pay.”
Now the only thing left to do was wait.
I. But let's be honest-it's that way with everyone. Right? Right?
Report: N-1FG-5299-Z
Serial: N-1FG-5299-Z Distribution: DBS//DSS//DAK//DFR//BB//CLOSED NETWORK A66 Cla.s.sification: Special Protocol Required Summary: Erratic information operations.
Details: Nude, multicolored portraits of famous human scientists were not authorized in the information operations campaign. If you see such posters, you are to remove them immediately.
Report Submitted By: F-GC-001 Stick This in You ”We're being jammed,” Rogers said.
”Jammed?” McSchmidt asked with half of a piece of chicken hanging out of his mouth.
McSchmidt, Rogers, Mailn, and the Viking were enjoying some of the first bit of real food they'd had on the Flags.h.i.+p since Rogers had arrived. All the transferring of personnel seemed to finally be working out; instead of empty, desolate places of depression, the mess halls-except the Kamikaze, since it had been charred by the fire-were starting to get a little livelier. The troops were actually talking to each other. Rogers even thought he might have heard someone laugh.
”What makes you say that?” the Viking asked.
”Let's just say that there's no way in h.e.l.l headquarters would ignore the messages I've been sending . . . I mean, Klein has been sending. The strange thing is, it seems to only be official communication. People are still getting messages from friends and family. And our supply runs are still happening, so we're still getting materiel. It doesn't make any sense.”
”Wouldn't Communications know that we're being jammed?” Mailn asked.
Rogers shook his head. ”I talked to them. According to their records, all messages are going out like they should. But I'm positive that Klein's aren't going anywhere.”
”Maybe they're being intercepted?” McSchmidt suggested.
”What kind of intelligence guy are you?” the Viking said. ”It's data. You don't just catch it in a net and put it in your pocket. If someone was intercepting them, they'd still get to headquarters.”
McSchmidt shot her a dirty look, but at a growl from the Viking, his face took on a much more subdued expression. Rogers felt his heart beat faster.
”Any more on the 'invasion'?” Rogers asked.
McSchmidt wiped a pair of greasy hands on his pants and pulled out his datapad, slapping it down on the table. ”Yes and no.”
”Those two statements are mutually exclusive,” Deet said.
McSchmidt raised an eyebrow.
”Ignore him,” Rogers said. ”They don't understand the subtleties of human speech.”
”Anyway,” McSchmidt said, ”the intelligence reports coming in about the Thelicosan fleet have probably doubled in the last few days. The sheer volume of information is huge, but it doesn't seem to mean anything.” He started tapping away on the datapads, and reports flashed by.
He stopped, placing his finger on the center of a mess of text and symbols. ”This, for example, is describing how much closer the Thelicosan fleet has moved to the Meridan border in centimeters.” He flipped reports again. ”And this here is supposed to be intercepted radio transmissions from their flags.h.i.+p.”
”What does it say?” Rogers asked.
”It says, 'Is everything ready for the imminent attack on the Meridan fleet? Please make sure everything is prepared so that we can take our s.h.i.+ps and use them to cross the border and attack the Meridan s.h.i.+ps using plasma cannons and other weapons, like our secret weapons that are very powerful, weapons that will make the Meridans blow up because they are clearly unprepared for an attack with those weapons because they are weak and disorganized.'”
A silence settled over the table. A group of droids that had been ”eating” at the table behind them finished charging their batteries and got up, clanking noisily out of the mess hall.
”That seems pretty clear,” Rogers said.
”It does and it doesn't,” McSchmidt said.
”Please stop doing that,” Deet said.
”For one thing, why would anyone ever send a transmission like that on an open channel?” McSchmidt explained, glaring at Deet. ”It sounds like a drunk pirate talking in his sleep. Second, Thelicosans don't call us Meridans.”
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