Defying the Prophet: A Military Space Opera (The Sentience Trilogy Book 2) by Gibson Michaels Page B
Authors: Gibson Michaels
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Chairman of the Executive Board of the Consortium of Industrial Management, had chosen each and every one of them, and backed up his demands with unadulterated blackmail. Marrot felt like firing the whole damned lot of them, cleaning house and starting over.
The ABI’s version of the state department’s PIMS advanced computer system had detected absolutely no residual clues left behind by the perpetrators of the cyber-attack. Whoever had been behind the biggest theft in human history had been very, very good. That’s if it was a theft, and not simply wanton destruction of data.
All signs pointed to the Confederates. It was impossible to ignore the coincidence in timing and the purposeful attack on the off-site archive storage facilities by the Confederate raiders. Marrot didn’t believe in coincidence, but neither did he truly believe anyone in the Confederacy had sufficient computer expertise to pull off such an incredibly sophisticated cyber-attack that left absolutely no tracks behind for the ABI’s best and brightest to sniff out.
The only bright spot in the gloom was the attack had not been nationwide, but confined solely to computers in Nork. Unfortunately, the vast majority of financial institutions, and therefore the vast majority of banking records, were headquartered in Nork, so a good 40% of the nation’s total wealth had been affected — either stolen, or simply obliterated. It might be possible to reconstruct some of the account data based upon off-planet records, but virtually everything that originated on Nork seemed out of reach, with all of the computer archives destroyed.
These senior members of Marrot’s cabinet couldn’t even seem to agree about what to have for lunch, much less come to a consensus about what could or should be done to rebuild the nation’s shattered economy. They had chased their collective tails for over six hours and, about halfway through, Marrot’s headache reached epic proportions. Then the door to the Oval Office opened and an even bigger headache slowly shuffled into the presidential presence, with a cane in his hand and a scowl on his face — J.P. Aneke, his own undead self.
* * * *
“Any idea how he does it, Rico?” asked Chief of Fleet Operations, Admiral Simon Bradley.
“None, sir,” answered Bradley’s Chief of Staff, Vice Admiral Enrico Melendez. “Bat doesn’t believe he even has a sixth-sense at all. He seems to believe that it’s just his subconscious mind putting the pieces together, no differently than anyone else can do.”
“Well if that’s the case, that’s one of the very few things that he’s definitely wrong about,” sighed Bradley. “His gift is undeniably a great deal different than anything anyone else can do. On top of everything else that he’s nailed in the past, he called that Nork raid on our financial system dead on. I’ll never forget that incredulous look on his face when he said, ‘Because that’s where all the money is…’ like it should have been the most obvious thing in the universe to everyone else in the room, too.”
“What can I say, Admiral?” said Melendez. “Bat is a freak of nature. I think he might have missed his calling… he could have made a fortune running a psychic-hotline.”
“I just wish his premonitions came a bit earlier and gave us a bit more warning.”
“They come when they come. Bat has no control over them. Besides, what good would it do us, Admiral?” asked Melendez. “We had sufficient time to shift forces from Sylvania, or Conn, or Rilan, or Massa or even all four, for that matter. We could have had almost twice Kalis’ strength waiting at Nork to surprise him, but we all know we couldn’t do a damned thing with what Bat told us. No one would believe it! If we’d acted on Bat’s premonition, the boys in the white lab coats would be carting us all off to the booby hatch under sedation. Psychic premonitions from our resident clairvoyant just don’t qualify as sound
The ABI’s version of the state department’s PIMS advanced computer system had detected absolutely no residual clues left behind by the perpetrators of the cyber-attack. Whoever had been behind the biggest theft in human history had been very, very good. That’s if it was a theft, and not simply wanton destruction of data.
All signs pointed to the Confederates. It was impossible to ignore the coincidence in timing and the purposeful attack on the off-site archive storage facilities by the Confederate raiders. Marrot didn’t believe in coincidence, but neither did he truly believe anyone in the Confederacy had sufficient computer expertise to pull off such an incredibly sophisticated cyber-attack that left absolutely no tracks behind for the ABI’s best and brightest to sniff out.
The only bright spot in the gloom was the attack had not been nationwide, but confined solely to computers in Nork. Unfortunately, the vast majority of financial institutions, and therefore the vast majority of banking records, were headquartered in Nork, so a good 40% of the nation’s total wealth had been affected — either stolen, or simply obliterated. It might be possible to reconstruct some of the account data based upon off-planet records, but virtually everything that originated on Nork seemed out of reach, with all of the computer archives destroyed.
These senior members of Marrot’s cabinet couldn’t even seem to agree about what to have for lunch, much less come to a consensus about what could or should be done to rebuild the nation’s shattered economy. They had chased their collective tails for over six hours and, about halfway through, Marrot’s headache reached epic proportions. Then the door to the Oval Office opened and an even bigger headache slowly shuffled into the presidential presence, with a cane in his hand and a scowl on his face — J.P. Aneke, his own undead self.
* * * *
“Any idea how he does it, Rico?” asked Chief of Fleet Operations, Admiral Simon Bradley.
“None, sir,” answered Bradley’s Chief of Staff, Vice Admiral Enrico Melendez. “Bat doesn’t believe he even has a sixth-sense at all. He seems to believe that it’s just his subconscious mind putting the pieces together, no differently than anyone else can do.”
“Well if that’s the case, that’s one of the very few things that he’s definitely wrong about,” sighed Bradley. “His gift is undeniably a great deal different than anything anyone else can do. On top of everything else that he’s nailed in the past, he called that Nork raid on our financial system dead on. I’ll never forget that incredulous look on his face when he said, ‘Because that’s where all the money is…’ like it should have been the most obvious thing in the universe to everyone else in the room, too.”
“What can I say, Admiral?” said Melendez. “Bat is a freak of nature. I think he might have missed his calling… he could have made a fortune running a psychic-hotline.”
“I just wish his premonitions came a bit earlier and gave us a bit more warning.”
“They come when they come. Bat has no control over them. Besides, what good would it do us, Admiral?” asked Melendez. “We had sufficient time to shift forces from Sylvania, or Conn, or Rilan, or Massa or even all four, for that matter. We could have had almost twice Kalis’ strength waiting at Nork to surprise him, but we all know we couldn’t do a damned thing with what Bat told us. No one would believe it! If we’d acted on Bat’s premonition, the boys in the white lab coats would be carting us all off to the booby hatch under sedation. Psychic premonitions from our resident clairvoyant just don’t qualify as sound
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