IN DEVELOPMENT - "A Reliable Source of Evidence"

Story idea: "A Reliable Source of Evidence" by Steve Orr

Alt title: "Code of the Conglomerate"

A contractor, a former EEO Counselor, new to corps of Investigators who, naturally enough, investigate Formal EEO Complaints, has been assigned to assist in the conduct of an investigation on the moon. After he arrives, he receives new directions from the owner of the firm he is working for, i.e. his current boss. He is being diverted to conduct an investigation on a prison planet. Solo.

(His sometime employer has a contract with the Bureau of Prisons to investigate formal EEO complaints. What is envisioned is that some conflict between co-workers or between employee and supervisor might give rise to an EEO Complaint. If it did, then the Investigator's boss would supply an investigator to do what is required by the Code of the Conglomerate.)

The Investigator is relatively new at this profession. Previously, he had served as an EEO Counselor in a federal agency on Earth. There are many similarities; but there is a lot of difference between providing counseling during the informal stage -- where only allegations of discrimination have been raised -- and investigating the actual formal complaint of discrimination. Also, he is fairly new to space.

He is being diverted because, as his employer put it, "The last guy I sent up there quit on me. Dang it! I need you to pick up where he left off. And, uh, Andy is it?, I need you to wrap it up lickety split. These things pay a flat fee, a goodly amount of money once you factor in the Conglomerate's reimbursement to us for travel costs, etc. But the only thing that makes this business profitable is to hit and git. You git my meaning? Don't spend a lot of time on this. Git his notes, do whatever he didn't do, then write the sucker up and git back here. Once I git paid, you git paid. Git me?"

"But, Mr. Weems, I'm still pretty new at this. Are you sure you want me? That sounds like something requiring a very experienced investigator."

"Now, listen, boy. There's nothin' to this. Besides, remember the first rule of public speaking."

"What's that, sir?"

"They only git what you give 'em."

"Uh, sir. I don't think I understand ..."

"They don't know you're a newbie. Don't tell 'em and they'll never know. Git it? Act like you know what you're doing. They sure don't know what you're supposed to be doing. So, allright? Hit and git?"

He could not muster the confidence of his employer, but could see nothing else to do.

"Yes, sir. Hit and, uh . . . get."

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BREAK BREAK BREAK

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

The fact that an investigator has been called in means that earlier attempts to resolve the matter informally have failed.

After he arrives at the prison, and there conducts a preliminary inquiry, he determines that one of the prisoners was in a position to witness the events at issue.

Set in the future?? on a prison planet?? Orbiting platform prison??

COULD be that this is a prison run by the Conglomerate, the only thing like a government that exists between the various enterprises scattered around the galactic neighborhood. Some of the corporations and sole proprietors attempting to conduct business in space have learned, from hard experience, that some form of law and order had to be imposed on the activities of those people working out here, thus the Code.

Not everyone has joined the conglomerate, and thus, some do not consider themselves subject to their vaunted 'code.' It can be a bit sticky. One sop to this problem was the decision to pattern their few 'immutable laws' after those in place on earth. It is, in many ways, not unlike the old west in the United States mythos.

Complicating things is the fact that the FTL technolgies used by Conglomerate members to travel about the galactic rim is actually owned -- and controlled by -- the church. The church has its on space-going navy, or so it is said. Whether the navy belongs to the church is contested, most loudly by the navy itself. Regardless, the church has considerable influence in the affairs of those who live and work in space.

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Andrew Gossett checked, again, to be certain the seat restraints were properly fastened. The monks had been chanting for over thirty minutes and it had him a bit on edge. Well, actually, he admitted, the whole thing had him on edge. Maybe if he could understand what they were saying he wouldn't be so tense. This was the only time in his life he wished he had taken Latin.

He supposed he would need to take a moment and write an apology to Mrs. Bryant for laughing in her face when she suggested he might well find Latin useful once he graduated. But then, he had never thought he would he would be traveling in 'outer' space with Latin-spouting monks.

His compartment on the ship was small, and, with its swing up writing surface and built in -- what was it they called it? Oh yes -- 'head', it was definitely utilitarian. Also, befitting his level of importance in the scheme of things, he decided, it was just about as far from the other people traveling on the ship. How else to explain that he was in a small room next to the monks? They had to be right next door. He could hear them right through the wall.