Dyson's Drop by Paul Collins Read Free Book Online Page B

without a doubt, one of the most unpleasant individuals Black had ever encountered. Toad-like in appearance, he had the temper - and the temperament - of a viper. He was also the type of small-statured man that society sometimes throws up to confound the ambitions of less fragile egos and those with healthier self-esteem. The Bonaparte Syndrome, as it was sometimes called, had more than once changed the course of history.
    Rench knew that someone had helped him to office. He did not know the identity of the individual, only a codename: Methuselah. He also knew the cost of forgetting his obligations.
    At the first Council meeting, which Black attended,
    Rench slammed his fist on the table and laid down the law. ‘Things will be changing around here,’ he said, his voice close to a permanent snarl. ‘I have here a list to get started on. Anyone who doesn’t like the way I do things can tender their resignation by the end of the day.’
    He glared around at the assembled officers and former field agents. Jake Ferren was conspicuously absent. Black was the co-coordinator of the Task Force to find the mole inside RIM. He sat in one of the back rows, taking notes on his e-pad.
    No one said anything. A chill wind was blowing through RIM, not unlike the one blowing through the galaxy, and no one doubted Rench’s words.
    ‘Good. I’ll take silence as agreement. First off, a number of officers are retiring.’ He read off a list of names. jake Ferren’s was at the top. Black suppressed a smile. Ferren was his contribution, but it seemed Rench had his own reasons for wanting to see the back of him. There were a few soft gasps as the names were reeled off, but no one objected. There was no point. ‘Next matter,’ said Rench. ‘This mole-hunt business is coming to an end. It’s tearing RIM apart and wasting valuable resources. Personally, I think the whole thing is a figment of an overactive imagination, a gambit designed to inflate their value to the service and achieve accelerated promotion. That person will be dealt with in due course. I am therefore terminating Operation Mole Hunt. It is to be dismantled immediately. Rench looked up and caught Black’s eyes. Black looked slightly startled, which - fortunately - was a normal reaction for such a situation.
    ‘Maximus Black. You’re attache to Colonel Ferren, am I right?’
    Black held his voice at just the right note of nervousness as he replied. ‘Ah, yessir. I am.’
    ‘Not anymore. You’re now assigned to my office. Your new assignment and duties are being cut now. See me after the meeting.’
    ‘Yessir. Thank you, sir!’
    Rench looked around at the assembled personnel. He tried, and failed, to assume an avuncular tone.
    ‘The galaxy is changing, ladies and gentlemen. RIM needs to change with it or else join the long list of species that failed to adapt and became extinct. I feel that our role in the past has been too confrontational, that we may have created as many problems as we have solved. Let the Sentinels handle the policing of the galaxy. They do a damn fine job, though only God knows why they bother.’
    He paused, as if for dramatic effect. ‘Unrest, upheaval, may be in store for the federated systems. RIM cannot contain this. We are stretched too thin, our resources and supply lines dangerously exposed. Look at what is happening in the Scorpius sector. Kanto Kantoris is throwing its weight about. Can we stop them if they go on the rampage, as they’ve done in the past? No. Those days, I fear, are gone. That’s why we shall, in future, build up the diplomatic side of RIM and tone down the shock troops and guns approach. Any questions?’
    A large bearded man spoke up. ‘Surely we need intensive impact studies on such a radical change in operation? Perhaps, with the coming upheaval you foresee, we need more shock troops and guns, not less.’
    ‘Your point is well taken, Colonel Phrax, but my decision has been made. Now, if that is all, this meeting