Cally's War

AIDs were both a blessing and curse. Peter Vanderberg’s wife tended to be a bit jealous of Jenny. Oh, she hadn’t been at first, but a wife could only hear a female voice reminding her husband of personal appointments, time to take his medicine, errands to run, interrupting casually at even the most intimate moments for just so long before beginning to get just a bit ticked off. The crowning indignity was, of course, Peter knew, her having to watch his own growing emotional attachment to Jenny. Explaining that it was a normal design feature for greater efficiency did not help.

Ultimately, a separation had been his only recourse. He hadn’t been willing to lose his wife, and he’d finally seen that the only way to preserve his marriage had been to ensure that his wife virtually never had to endure contact with Jenny. Strangely, although his AID had resented the exclusion from certain portions of his life and had gotten quite snippy at first, ultimately she had seemed happier, too. But an AID couldn’t be jealous of the other woman, could it?

Anyway, the compromise meant that instead of his AID chiming in whenever a message came in, she very lightly vibrated if the message was urgent, so he could excuse himself, and otherwise he checked in once an hour or so. And usually he followed up immediately if she indicated he had an urgent message. Tonight, it being Jane’s birthday, he had known better and had had to wait a few minutes before excusing himself. When Jenny buzzed him a second time, he figured it must be pretty important. He tactfully excused himself for the restroom. Jane’s eyes narrowed a bit as he left. He doubted she was fooled.

“Jenny, I hope this message really is urgent. Jane’s birthday is very important to me.” Okay, not getting Jane pissed at me by her thinking I’ve slighted her birthday is important to me. Same difference. I was hoping to get laid tonight, not be in the doghouse.

“I’m sorry, Peter. You have two urgent messages. Morrison unfortunately has to report failure. They had them, but snipers on the roof killed the prisoners before they could be fully secured. Colonel Tartaglia on behalf of General Stewart reports a success, however. They have captured an enemy agent alive and transported her to the Detention Center on Titan Base for interrogation. Oh, third message. Defense Minister Li advises you and your subordinates that a Darhel delegation under the leadership of the Minister of Commerce and Trade, the Tir Dol Ron, will be observing the interrogation. Your orders are to ensure that your people give the Tir’s delegation every assistance,” it said.

“That’s weird.” Um… better think about that in private. “Jenny, relay the orders to General Stewart and Colonel Tartaglia. Uh… Jenny, does the message say why it was sent by the Colonel and what happened to General Beed?”

“General Beed is deceased, at the hands of the prisoner, one Captain Sinda Makepeace, his secretary. Or a Jane Doe masquerading as a Fleet Strike captain, although Fleet Strike biometric procedures make that impossible, of course. General Stewart was injured in the conflict and is currently unconscious and undergoing medical treatment. Full recovery is anticipated.”

“Thanks, Jenny. Again, please hold any messages unless they are urgent.” Or I may not get to sleep in my own bed tonight.

“Certainly, Peter. I understand,” it cooed softly.