“No.” Ky pulled out the desk drawer and slammed it in. That did little to relieve her feelings. “It was not. Let’s get our guests out here so we can discuss it. Rodney’s guarding the door.”
CHAPTER TEN
Sergeant Major Morrison woke early and clearheaded in Kris’s guest room and went out to check on Ginger. The day had dawned cloudless and chill; she was glad she had her boots on. Three dogs rushed up to the yard gate. “I’m not here to feed you,” Morrison said. “Be patient.” She turned back toward the house and saw Kris coming onto the porch with two steaming mugs of coffee.
“I’ll feed them,” Kris said. She opened a bin and filled a large scoop with kibble. The fence had a feeder section, with access ports that opened to the outside. She poured in kibble, then called the dogs in one at a time to their respective bowls. “What was it you didn’t say last night?”
Morrison explained the situation, leaving out the three women she’d met at the Vatta house. What she knew from her committee work was bad enough. “And the Rector is in the hospital—”
“You were going to try to reach the Rector?” Kris sounded genuinely shocked.
“It was made clear to me that trying to go up the regular chain of command would get me sent someplace like that myself.”
“You—I can’t believe it. They wouldn’t—not to the sergeant major.”
“Kris, they’re watching me. When I heard on the radio the Rector was hospitalized, I realized I could send up a card with flowers—perfectly appropriate in the circumstances. But I ran into this colonel who started asking questions—trying to probe for more—and—a couple of things happened, and I don’t want to tell you because you should not know, if someone asks. I heard about the Rector on the car radio; I went to a store and picked up dog food and groceries; I stopped by the hospital with a card and flowers; I came here and stayed overnight. That’s all.”
“But you told me the worst—didn’t you?”
“What’s happening to the troops? Yes. And I had to, because I had to involve you and Irene. I may need messages passed; you must not tell anyone else.”
Kris frowned, then nodded. “We can do that. But if they come asking—”
“What I just said. We didn’t talk about Miksland survivors. We talked about dogs and weather and the Rector’s health and you tried to persuade me to let you take cells from Ginger and try to do artificial breeding with them—”
“Which you know I would love to do—she’s very healthy, has great conformation, a good disposition, trainable and intelligent—”
“Yes. And I’m still unwilling to subject her to the surgery—”
“It’s only a few milliliters of blood—”
“No. But I’m willing to consider it when I retire in a year or so, and can enjoy the puppies. You can tell them that. Are you still thinking of antique Chow DNA for a cross?”
“There’s a new strain out from Overholt Beta. It wouldn’t take antique DNA; we could order frozen sperm.”
“Good. The antique DNA worried me. Frozen sperm sounds more reasonable.”
“Cost would be about the same, and not cheap.”
“You said puppy buyers would cover it—still think so?”
“Oh, yes. Every time we board her, I get questions about her. Seriously, if you’d consider it—”
“Maybe. Better than no. But for now I need to get out to the base before noon. Work stacks up while I’m gone.”
“You take care.”
“I will. I do.”
On the way to her duplex on base, where she always kept fresh uniforms ready, Morrison hoped Ky Vatta and her crew would soon have some useful information. And would manage not to get caught at it. She had no further reason to contact the Rector unless summoned, and her brief past acquaintance with MacRobert gave her no reason to contact him.
As she entered the senior NCO housing neighborhood, she saw a white van pull away from the curb in the next block. Her duplex was in the next block. She turned into the driveway on her side of the duplex, stopped beside the kitchen entrance, unlocked the door, and sent Ginger inside while she unloaded the groceries and dog food. When she came inside, Ginger had her nose on the kitchen ventilation grate, wagging her tail busily.
“Oh, Ginger,” Morrison said. “I haven’t been gone that long; there’s not a mouse in there. You’re such a silly dog.” Silly dog being a code for “find another.” Everyone knew base housing was surveilled: it was the military after all. But the eyes and ears had always been minimal at Morrison’s base residence: one eye doubling the normal security camera at each door, one ear in the base-supplied comunit. Anything in the ventilation grate… was new.
Ginger wandered into the living room, pointing out another installation in a grate there. And in the bedroom and the second smaller bedroom Morrison used for an office. “Time to go out,” Morrison said. “I need to shower, change, and get to the office. I’ll be back in time to feed you.”
She rumpled Ginger’s ears on the way to the back door that opened into the run she’d built within the small backyard. Ginger had a shelter, water, and a feeder much like the one at Kris’s. After a shower and a change, she went straight to headquarters admin section and her office. Yes, in only three days her inbox was over half full. Corporal Bannister, her clerk, had them tabbed and ready. Corporal Gorse, on weekend duty, offered to bring her coffee.
“No thanks, Molly. Had a late breakfast with friends.”
“I didn’t know if you’d be in today, Sergeant Major.”
“I’d rather face a clean desk next week,” she said, opening the first folder. Routine; she just needed to read and sign. So was the next, and the next. At this rate she’d be done in an hour. She glanced at the clock, and called out the door to Gorse. “Anything in the black box?”
“Yes, Sergeant Major. It came in late yesterday; Corporal Bannister locked it in.”
“I should have asked about that first,” Morrison said. On an off day, like this, it didn’t matter as much, but she usually dealt with higher-level classifications first.
The black box required thumbprints and voiceprint. Morrison went through the usual routine; the box’s lock snapped open and she took out the single blue envelope. The box kept a record of every opening, the time every document was taken out and put back in. She went back in her office, locked it, turned on the DO NOT ENTER sign, pulled out the security cylinder, and turned it on. Instead of the usual blue light, a red light flashed repeatedly. “What the—” Morrison turned the cylinder off, unlocked the door, and opened it. “Molly, has anyone been in my office today?”
“No, Sergeant Major. Not while I’ve been here. I did go down the hall about 0915. Major Pahora asked if you were here and you weren’t, and he said then he wanted me to take a box down to Dispatch. I was gone maybe ten minutes. I didn’t tarry anywhere.”
Ten minutes. A good tech could easily place an illicit eye or ear in ten minutes. Several in fact. “Call Security,” Morrison said. “Tell them Sergeant Major Morrison has found a security breach in her office. In the meantime, I’ll replace this in the black box; I can’t read it until I know my office is clean.” Her office had been certified as a secured site for reading classified material, and this was the protocol.
“Yes, Sergeant Major,” Molly looked pale. “I didn’t—I swear—”
“I don’t blame you, Molly. I wasn’t here; you didn’t know if I’d even be in, and you were asked to run an errand. No harm, no foul. But someone slipped up. We leave it to the Security people. I’ll make a formal inquiry to General Visoni once I’m back in my office. Until Security clears it, and us, neither of us goes back in there.”