The Scarman Enigma

[Robert Merlow]

Admiralty's Private Dining Room, Tuatha de Danaan

The Admiralty's Private Dining Hall was nearly empty except for Fleet Admiral Merlow, sitting alone at his table. He had time to think, and he planned to use it. There were still bits of information that were not clear, but he began to formulate an idea of what exactly happened and what the motive was behind it. His brain entered Mentat mode and began to analyze the situation quickly, his mind partitioning and rearranging information to fit a logical model.

First, there was the attack on the Danaan. That was completely unexpected. If they wanted to destroy the Danaan, they would have brought a bigger ship or bombers to fire at the exposed portions of the ship. Instead, they attacked with a small fighter attack force and suddenly split when the Liberty Destroyer Prometheus decided to show up.
Second, the havoc cause on board the Danaan by those two Black Flag Corsairs. If they were serious about causing damage on board, they would have had at least a full squad complement, perhaps even two.
There was something wrong with the picture. There was something missing, an ulterior motive that eluded Merlow. Why would they deal so much damage and so much firepower just to fade away and not finish the job? Why not execute a dedicated attack? There was something behind the attack, they wanted something, or someone, aboard the ship in all the chaos. All that he needed to know was what that thing was.

All of the leaps of logic in under two seconds sapped his energy. He motioned to the Seaman serving as a waiter. She approached Merlow timidly. Merlow had forgotten that it had been six years and that, despite his seeming lack of aging, he was the most powerful figure this Seaman had probably ever heard about during her training to enter the Liberty Navy. Now set face to face with the legend, the girl didn't know how to react.

"He-hello, Sir. What will you have, today?" she stuttered, presenting Merlow with a menu, her hands shaking.
Merlow shook his head, smiling. He extended his hand to the young woman, "Name's Merlow."
The Seaman stood there, petrified. The most powerful man of the Liberty Navy wanted to shake her hand.
Merlow chuckled, "I'm not gonna rip your head off. What's your name?"
"C-C-Catherine Barringer, S-S-Sir," she stammered, "Rank, Seaman!"
Merlow shook her hand, "Well, Ms. Barringer, nice to make your aquaintance. Can I get a Fettuccine Alfredo with a Japanese salad and a green tea?"
"Coming right up, Sir." She gave him a quick salute then scurried away into the kitchen.

General Serov entered the room, looking around. He spotted Merlow at his private table and took a seat.
"Hungry much, Rob?" Serov asked with a grin.
"For what?" he asked tiredly, already knowing the answer.
"Burgers, man! Fur---"
"Shut up, you lewd bastard. I'm here to actually get a meal."
Serov laughed, "Yeah, yeah. I already ordered ahead. My stuff should be ready by now."
"Why are you even dining here? You're a Marine, this is the Admiralty's---"
"Because I'm your best friend and they know that they can't really stop me."
Merlow let out a sigh, "Well, damn it you're right. Well, why else are you here besides bugging the hell out of me?"

Serov cleared his throat dramatically. Merlow rolled his eyes, "Well, I've noticed something. The Senator has been acting rather strangely as of late. First, some POs reported him down in one of the torpedo chambers. He doesn't have clearance to be there. Second, he came into the detention cell to look over the captured prisoners. That didn't make any sense at all, and for some reason I got the feeling that he and one of the prisoners exchanged a look. I don't know why, call it a hunch."

Merlow's eyes lit up. That was it! "Tom, you're a genius! Call up my HiME teams, tell them to locate and detain Senator Scarman. I want him in my office immediately. Don't make it look like we're detaining him, I want it to look like we're giving him an escort. I also want your best Sadukar to watch over him as he walks down the corridor. Make them inconspicuous."
Serov looked at him quizzically, "OK... I'll send out the order." Serov leaned slightly to the side, as he transmitted the order to the appropriate people...

---

Commander in Chief of the Migrant Fleet / Former Fleet Admiral of the Liberty First Fleet
Second Survivor of the Mentat Program.
We must give and take with good measure. Give too much, we become complacent. Take too much, we incur the wrath of our own. Tread Lightly.
--Supreme Bashar Robert Merlow--