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13
Ironic, But A Money-Grabber
Jack
"Justwhatdoyouthink you're playing at, Evans?" Anderson yelled at me. "How did you gain access to the comms system?"
"I have access to the entire system, Mr Anderson," I told him equably. There was no point denying it now; he'd find out eventually and make an effort to do so sooner rather than later. I couldn't hide my administrator access from him and I thought, perhaps, it would go better for me if I didn't.
Honesty did have some advantages, after all.
"Your console was shut down!"
"I switched it back on again."
"Impossible!"
"Irrelevant, I think you mean. We need to talk."
"Who helped you? I demand to know who helped you?"
I sighed. He had a one-track mind, or maybe a better analogy was he was a dog with a bone. Once he caught a whiff of something out of the ordinary, something he could penalise someone for, he was not going to let it go.
I needed him to concentrate on the reason why I had contacted him and not how I had.
"Mr Anderson," I said. "I believe I have a solution to your money problems."
"What money problems?" he demanded.
He also appeared to be easily distracted from his own reason for being at the Academy.
"That would be the commercialisation of RATS and justifying its expensive existence to Parliament and the public, would it not?" I asked.
"Oh, yes. That."
"Yes, that. I have a solution that could prove beneficial to both of us."
"I don't think you're in a position to benefit from anything, Evans.
"Dr Evans, if you don't mind."
"I do mind. You're grounded. Locked down and shut out." I smiled serenely at the screen as if I wasn't irate at his heavy hand in all of that. "You are therefore no longer a doctor of anything."
"My idea..." I started.
"I don't want to hear it." And then he closed down the communication. The last thing I saw was his hand as it moved toward the screen to swipe it clear.
"Very rude," I muttered, tapping away on the console until I'd gained access to the main viewscreen in Dispatch. I'd been able to see familiar objects in the background of that last communication. Anderson was in Dispatch. Rather convenient.
I didn't bother with the necessity of him answering the call. I simply broadcast my image on the screen for all to see. There were cameras and mics in Dispatch, and I'd hooked into them as well, making it possible for two-way communication.
I should have probably gone with this from the start, but I'd been giving Anderson the opportunity to do the right thing and save face. Desperate times called for desperate measures, however. I couldn't break out of my room without incurring dire consequences. I might still incur consequences, but at least with this method, I'd get to have my say.
There was a lot I wished to say to Anderson. Instead, I kept my cool, taking in the room in one glance of the screen. Anderson was not alone. He had one of his ubiquitous security personnel with him, as well as a junior dispatcher by the name of Margaret Ford and Dr Holt and Dr De Francillon. I was grateful it wasn't Dr Winchester, but there was a part of me that had hoped to see Bryan.
Considering Bryan was not my Bryan, that dashed hope was unexpected. Then I spotted Rafe sitting in the corner pretending to work and his familiar face comforted me enough to get myself back under control again.
I cleared my throat, as no one appeared to be paying any attention to the main viewscreen.
