Interview
© 2023 by Walter Reimer

(Stanislaus Coon and Ivar Vargsson are courtesy of E.O. Costello. Thanks!)



“Hmm. Appropriate.”

Ivar’s apparently off-pawed comment caused me to glance at ‘M’ as I followed the roebuck down the hallways and through the various checkpoints. Given the state of politics on Terra, security’s heavy paw wasn’t just necessary, it was essential.

The comment became clearer when I noted the three gleaming black stars on ‘M’s’ shoulder boards. Vice Admiral’s rank.

In my mind’s eye, Ivar nodded. “Quite apt, that, when one realizes the many and varied shadows that those of us in Intelligence must perforce labor in.”

Which brought up a question, and I quietly cleared my throat. “Sir? May I ask you a question?”

Cervine ears swiveled and he raised a finger. “You’re going to ask me why I asked for you, Captain.” He sounded almost amused, and he glanced at me with the air of a street-level conjuror that had just correctly picked my card. “Was that your question?” I imagine the look on my face was priceless.

“Yes, Sir.”

His ears swiveled again. “In a certain matter,” by which he referred to the Wilk Affair, “you showed initiative and discretion.”

I had mixed feelings about that. My ‘initiative’ had resulted in a minor purge of the ranks in the Sixth Directorate, and I’d succeeded in keeping an existential threat to Terra under wraps. “I see. What are you looking for, really, Sir?”

‘M’ smiled. “That was a second question, Captain.”

“Be wary, my dear fellow,” Ivar admonished. “Do check if we are being followed or otherwise watched.”

“Yes, Sir, it was.” I tried to keep my eyes on ‘M’ while straining with my peripheral vision.

The roebuck nodded, and after we went through another checkpoint he said, “You’re aware that no one in Intelligence – not even me – is immune from a certain amount of internal testing. Keeps us sharp, you know? This may be the product of the Admiral-General’s paranoia, but we will take this inquiry as serious, and treat it as a test.”

“I see, Sir.” And I did. Directorate III (Counterintelligence) was tasked with defending the State against all enemies, internal as well as external. We had to keep our skills honed. “How far can I push?”

He stopped walking and faced me. “Now, that is a very good question, Captain,” he said. “What are you thinking?”

I felt my tail twitch as he looked up at me. “A lot will depend on my interview with the Admiral-General, Sir.”

He nodded, giving me a long, calculating look. “Discreet. Come, let’s go see him. I look forward to hearing your conclusions.” We set off down the corridor.

“Did he look worried that you were being a wee bit too diligent?” Ivar asked.

“Not sure,” I replied.

We went past a memorial for those members of the Intelligence Bureau who had fallen in service. From the huge number of stars indicating individual furs, the memorial probably went all the way back to the end of Mad Markus’ reign.

In the back of my mind, I could hear Ivar sniff. “Reports of my death, as the gentlefur said . . . “

The entrance to the Admiral-General’s sanctum was flanked by two pairs of stoic guards, two in formal uniform flanking the door and two in assault gear at opposite corners, rifles at the ready. There was a final security check and we were ushered inside. As we were shown in by an orderly, I took a look at the mel I was going to be sitting across.

Gromov Feranq, tiger; judging from the way he sat he would be somewhat taller than me when he stood up. Muscular build under the uniform. Desk has numerous files, datapaks, and at least two padds; first impression was that this was an officer with a paws-on approach to running things. One wall had another holoscreen depicting a wintry landscape, while the other two bore plaques and 2-D images.

‘M’ came to attention, and I followed suit. “Captain Coon, Sir.”

Gromov sat up and gestured to chairs. “Good. Have a seat, please, Captain.”

“Thank you, Sir.” I sat; ‘M’ walked over to the holowindow and stood gazing out at the scenery.

I set my padd for recording and asked, “Sir, could you please tell me what you saw on Maratha?”

The tiger sat back, stroking the whiskers on the right side of his face with the back of his right paw. “I was present at a meeting of the Regency Council several months ago. The windows were open, and I was distracted by a sound outside. I looked out the window and saw another tiger, the gardener.”

“Moka Bustani,” ‘M’ said, almost absently.

“Yes, him,” Gromov said. “Something just seemed . . . off, about him, like I’d seen him before.” He scratched the back of his head. “Funny thing is, I don’t recall ever having met him.”

I nodded. “You say this was several months ago.”

“Yes.”

“Why did you wait so long before mentioning your misgivings, Sir?” I asked.

Gromov frowned at the implication. He glanced across the room at ‘M’.

‘M’ smiled.

The tiger frowned. “Yes, that was a mistake on my part,” he said, looking like the admission hurt him to some extent. Maybe having to admit an error in front of subordinates. “Bustani’s been vetted, as I’m sure you know, and there are four security services on-site to make sure that nothing happens to His Majesty.”

I nodded. It was part of my briefing notes; His Majesty, his mother and the rest of his family was guarded by Special Security agents, officers of Maratha’s planetary gendarmerie, a very specialized unit of the Army, and the al-Sakai Family’s personal bodyguards. “My apologies if I’ve implied anything, Admiral-General,” I said.

Gromov gave me a sour look. “Getting back to your question, I waited so long because I wasn’t certain of my own observations. I had gotten distracted, and with the latest friction with the Kashlani . . . “ He let it dangle, and I was quite happy to let it stay there. I had heard about Task Force 2; I wasn’t the only fur who may have had ghosts rustling around him.

“You wound me, Stanislaus,” Ivar said.

“At the last meeting,” Gromov was saying, “I saw him again, and now I’m certain of it. He looks awfully familiar – but I know I’ve never met him before.”

“In what way?” I asked, and now that the ground had been broken, it was time to start digging. I had an hour with him, and I was determined to get what information I could.

A police interrogation is a process in and of itself, with the difference that Gromov wasn’t a suspect. He was a witness, with information that I needed, some of it rather old. A light touch then, to tease out everything possible without recourse to the old rubber hose or paw-cranked generator.

And before you ask, no, I have never had to wring a confession out of someone.

I shut off my padd some forty-five minutes later and began to fold it up. “Thank you very much, Sir.”

Gromov looked tired. “Dismissed, Captain.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Wait for me outside, Captain,” ‘M’ said.

“Yes, Sir,” and the door closed, leaving me in the outer office. The orderly, a rather attractive tigress wearing a lieutenant’s rank, glanced up at me before returning to her work. The quartet of guards stood stolidly, seeing everything by virtue of where they were situated.

“So many guards,” Ivar mused. “I wonder if they ever get under each other's footpads. The problem with so many layers, my dear Stanislaus, is that you have the ‘some other fur's problem’ conundrum. Or, conversely, you have two or more layers working at cross-purposes.”

“That’s possible, yes,” I replied (silently, of course). “But there would be a coordinating staff, and chances are good that the planet's AI is also watching the watchers.”

“Hrmph.” Ivar was unimpressed. “You and I both know - and, of course, the shlani know – that an AI is not perfect.”

“Very true. I imagine that Bustani would be able, at one time or another on his rounds, to see every facet of the security.”

“I wonder why six layers - the four operating layers, the coordinator, and the AI, are all necessary,” my lupine companion said.

“It is the Emperor, Ivar,” I pointed out. “You know, the head of state?”

“Are they watching His Imperial Majesty, or each other? Never underestimate the desire for empire building. As it were,” Ivar said.

True. “To be honest,” I said, “I think they're doing both. Watching His Majesty, and each other.”

Ivar chuckled. “Surely, the former is a job for both sets of eyes.” I fancied that I could see him slouched against the wall beside one of the security guards. “Somewhere, somehow, my dear Stanislaus, there has to be a flaw. Else why would our lords and masters have the wind up?”

“Well, they don’t have the wind up completely – yet,” I said. “I – “ I came to attention as ‘M’ stepped out of Gromov’s office. The roebuck gestured, and I fell in a pace behind and to his left as he walked out into the hallway.

“A very good interrogation session, Captain,” ‘M’ said quietly as we left the realm of the Big Brass. “I chose well, it seems, and I’ll make sure that the MacRuari is told.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“He didn’t specify that you were to return to Three immediately after the interview.”

Of course, he would know. “No, Sir.”

‘M’ nodded. “See my adjutant, and arrange quarters for overnight. Compile your report, and I will read it before you leave tomorrow.” He swiveled his ears as he paused. “Carry on, Captain.”

“Sir.” I saluted, and headed down the corridor.

Hoping that I wouldn’t get lost.