Duty and Obligation

by Sean Benjamin

  Agra 2 was not an “in” destination so only an average of four ships a day dropped passengers off. Many of these passengers were natives returning home. They were quickly dismissed as suspects. Others were business people looking to get in on the beginning of the expanding agriculture trade. These people could be ruled out after a routine records review. Two groups of people who could not easily be dismissed were those looking for work and the rare tourist. A cover story for anyone in these two groups could be established with minimum effort. Paulsen tended to dismiss the tourists. Paulsen assumed any hit team would not use such a cover as there weren’t that many tourists because there was nothing to draw them to this planet. Any so-called tourist would stand out and draw attention from the natives as an object of curiosity, the last thing a spotter for a hit team wanted. That left those coming for work. There were many such people as the expanding agriculture market and the building of the navy base needed workers in many fields. They were from a variety of planets with a variety of cultures. All of these newcomers stood out among the local population, so a lone spotter would have no need to attempt to blend in. The locals tended to distrust outsiders, so the new arrivals were left alone. None of them were tied down to any specific location so could wander around while “looking for work,” and nobody would be suspicious. Greg Paulsen banked on the “looking-for-work” tale being the cover story for the spotter.

  A day later he would be proven correct. A young woman was in the customs line after having disembarked from the midday passenger carrier. She was one of twenty-two passengers lined up in front of the customs windows. Paulsen was watching live from his desk. She immediately caught his attention. She wasn’t pretty, and she wasn’t ugly. She wasn’t dressed like a returning native. Her clothing was slightly weather-beaten and nothing about her garb indicated a place of origin or a particular culture. Her hair was tied up haphazardly behind her head. Her nails and face indicated no particular attention was paid to either by the owner. Her appearance suggested an unskilled worker looking for a job and a break. He studied her closely. It wasn’t so much her appearance as her demeanor. He was sure her cover story would be a work seeker. She didn’t look like someone looking for a job. She looked like someone who already had a job. There was a quiet determination about her as she calmly studied her surroundings and then assessed the customs officials as she shuffled forward in the line approaching the custom counter. Most newcomers looked around and tried to be friendly with the natives working nearby or with others in line in an attempt to establish comradery in the new situation. She did neither. She had her paperwork ready as she stopped in front of a customs official at the window. Their conversation was short and direct. She was given her papers back, and she moved to the nearest exit. This wasn’t her first time through a customs station. She knew exactly what to do to make the process go smoothly. Once beyond the customs, there was nobody there to greet her. She moved to public transportation and took a shuttle that did the rounds of several small towns, Benteen being one of them. She carried a single bag slung over her shoulder and carried it with her on to the shuttle, eschewing the baggage storage compartment in the bottom of the vehicle.

  Paulsen frowned. He was sure there was more here than meets the eye. He assumed she was coming to his town. If the new arrival did come to Benteen, that would confirm his suspicions about her, and she would be put under continuous surveillance. It would be tricky as Paulsen was positive she was an experienced bird dog and would smell a trap from three klicks away, but it had to be done. Once he was satisfied she was the spotter, he would call off his people. No point in risking his operation when he already got the confirmation he needed.

  He wouldn’t bet his house that she was the spotter, but he would bet a month’s pay. He got on his computer. He sent the imagery to Hawkins, Captain Cassidy, and his own people.

  The woman arrived in Benteen three hours later. She checked into the cheapest of the two hotels in town.

  Chapter 7

  Raferty Hawkins was scheduled to leave the next day but, upon receiving the news of the spotter, he delayed his departure to visit Greg Paulsen and Maclyn Yardley. He and Lisa Cassidy arrived at the sheriff’s office early in the morning to discuss Paulsen’s plan to deal with the threat. The sheriff covered his strategy and how he would get the spotter to roll over on her team. Both of his visitors were happy with his ideas.

  Yardley heard the murmurs of their conversation but paid no attention. She sat on her bunk and read from her tablet. Eventually, she looked up and saw Hawkins, Cassidy, and Paulsen standing outside her cell quietly watching her. She was a bit unnerved by the hushed attention so placed her tablet down and returned the silent stares.

  Hawkins started the conversation. “We all know you’re going to lose your case because you are guilty. We all know you’re going to spend years in jail. You have nobody to speak up for you except a court-appointed lawyer who probably couldn’t care less about you. You are pretty much screwed. However, you still have two things—the information on the AC slave running and your life. The AC has a plan for taking your life. Their hit team is on the way. Their spotter came in yesterday and is over at the hotel right now. It’s her job to get the lay of the land and assess the current situation. She will report back to her team, and they will arrive in a couple of days with a scheme to kill you based on the information provided by their bird dog. Sheriff Paulsen here will grab the spotter when he thinks the time is right and will put her in the cell next to you. Between him and Captain Cassidy here, she will be forced to talk in return for a deal. You will get a close-up seat to all this. You will see how your employers were preparing to handle the problem you pose for them. After that little show and tell, you need to assess your situation and help us out here. If you don’t help us, I will personally see to it that the next hit on you is successful.”

  Yardley tried to look offended but couldn’t quite pull it off. She settled for a comment. “You wouldn’t do that. You’re a peer of the realm. You would sit by while I was killed?”

  Hawkins gave her a cutting smile. “The fact that the regional AC people here ordered the hit on you and organized it so quickly tells me they have people on call for this type of work. That tells me a hit is standard procedure for them in response to this type of situation. If the first attempt fails, they will try again. They have to. They can’t afford you talking. We won’t help them, but we won’t do anything to stop them next time around.”

  Hawkins stepped close so his face was almost touching the bars. “Greg Paulsen and his people are risking their lives for you. I like Greg Paulsen. He has help worked hard to free this planet while most the natives here were home hiding under their beds. He is worth fifty of you, and that’s not even a close call. I am deadly serious here. You have to pick a side. If you stay quiet, they will keep after you. They can’t do anything else.”

  Yardley looked at Paulsen and Cassidy. “You two just going to let them come back here and kill me?” There was desperation in her voice; she wanted an ally, any ally.

  The two of them looked at her calmly. Paulsen spoke first. “Why not? It would save me a bunch of work. I’ll protect you one time so I can get a prisoner from the hit team, but I’m not putting myself and my deputies in the target zone continuously while you continue to feel loyalty to a company that is trying to kill you.”

  Lisa Cassidy added, “Your confinement will continue to be in this jail until we get a brig built on the new base. The AC people will realize this will be their best chance at getting you because, once you are on the base, getting access to you will be more difficult. That puts Greg right in the middle of it. Why should he risk anybody’s life when you are content to sit back and do nothing?”

  “You all will just sit by while allowing me to be killed in cold blood,” Yardley’s voice rose as she addressed Hawkins.

  “Yep,” Hawkins replied calmly. “Hell, you’re sitting by while others risk their lives for you. We thought we would try it your way f
or a while. That stage will begin after the first attempt on your life. If you don’t talk, you’re protecting the very people who are trying to kill you. How stupid is that? You can’t fix stupid, so we have an obligation to rid the Badlands of that particular trait whenever we come across it.” He stepped back from the cell bars. “After you see this spotter and hear her story, if you are still not convinced, there is no hope for you, so we will wash our hands of this problem, and you, once and for all. Think about it.”

  The two visitors departed the building, and Paulsen returned to his desk. Two hours later, Predator left orbit from Agra 2.

  Chapter 8

  Queen Alexis exhaled a long breath as she walked down the hallway to her private quarters. She undid her suit jacket and reached behind her head to loosen and shake out her hair. It had been a long day, but they were all long days now. However, it would all be forgotten soon enough. An old friend was visiting tonight. It had been quite a while between visits, and she was looking forward to catching up.

  She opened the door and entered the main room. A lone figure stood at the large windows admiring the view. Alexis smiled and moved forward for an embrace. “Skyler!” She spread her arms and engulfed her guest. Sky Mallory was just as happy. The two hugged each other for several seconds.

  Skyler Mallory and Alexis Sinclair had been best friends their entire lives. They had played together as children. They had been roommates at The Academy and had been one-half of the “best damn study foursome ever.” After graduation, the two had been junior officers together in the same destroyer flotilla, Ensign Mallory in Pearl and Ensign Sinclair in Cobalt. They shared laughs, challenges, successes, setbacks, and heartaches together. Despite their shipboard duties, they always had time for talks, drinks, or simple walks together.

  After Alexis ascended the throne, the communication continued. Skyler kept Alexis informed on all she was doing and what she was hearing. Sky was the one who told the Queen about the attempted ambush of Raferty Hawkins by one of Cunningham’s private squadrons at the completion of the pirate attack on Murmansk. She mentioned the Spinnaker class destroyers in that squadron when the Queen’s shipbuilding reports stated there were no Spinnakers in the fleet yet. Sky kept Alexis connected to the real navy.

  Alexis stepped back and looked her old friend over. “You look good. Command agrees with you.”

  Sky smiled. “Yep, I’ve been back in command of Mackenzie for about twelve whole hours. Think I got fifty gray hairs in that time.”

  They kicked their shoes off and sat on the couch together. Sky reached behind her to an end table and picked up two glasses of wine. She passed one to Alexis. She then retrieved the wine bottle and placed it between them, snug in the couch cushions, within easy reach of either of them.

  Alexis drank. “Nice wine.”

  “Picked up a couple of bottles on the way here. I figure we deserve the good stuff tonight.”

  Alexis smiled at that. She now realized how much she had missed her best friend. It had been much too long between visits. “How is Big Mac?”

  Sky shook her head. “She has been in the yards almost a year, but you would never know it from the amount of work done. All the basic fixes are completed, and she is airtight. No upgrades. Priorities were engines, weapons, and sensors. They fixed all of those systems but not much else. There were four staterooms opened to space and they are still sealed off. Didn’t even try to repair them. The CIC and bridge were hammered in our battle but got only the basic fixes. There are fewer workstations in CIC than before. The shipyards are overwhelmed and they are doing the least it takes to get ships out and back in the fight.” She shrugged and smiled. “But I got my ship back, so it’s all good. We move out tomorrow come hell, high water, or air leaks.”

  Alexis smiled in response. “You’re right about the shipyards. Patch them up and throw them back out there. Crews are being cut to the minimum too.”

  Skyler nodded. “I noticed. When I saw the crew roster, I had a flashback to Predator and pirate-level manning.”

  “Speaking of that, how is your pirate captain?”

  Sky got a faraway look in her eyes as she drifted out of the room on her memory. “We trade comms. The Badlands is the Badlands, and he is being himself. Anyone who thought a peer title would change him doesn’t know him very well. He says the base is coming along, and the Goths are back on their heels a bit about it. His ships are raiding and doing anti-slavery patrols.” Sky laughed. “The Badlands squadron and some of his ships are patrolling together. He thinks the Royal Navy ships are jealous of Flot 1 because his ships get to ignore the rules, shoot up freighters, and be general badasses while the Royal Navy ships have to follow the rules. He is probably right about that.

  “He loves Lisa Cassidy. She is doing about twenty different jobs—squadron commander, base commander, military judge, arbitrator of every general bitch-and-moan party on the Agra planets, and apparently the impromptu chairperson of the Agra 2 Chamber of Commerce. She referees all these groups and tries to keep some semblance of order. Long days and a lot of minutiae, but she is good at it.”

  Alexis laughed. “Both you and Raferty can take some credit for her. You are the two who recommended her to me.”

  When the Queen had met Captain Lisa Cassidy at the palace, she had said two friends recommended Cassidy for the Badlands command. She had given Cassidy one name, Raferty Hawkins, but had kept the name of Skyler Mallory to herself. She didn’t want their close friendship to be common knowledge.

  Sky smiled. “As I recall, Raferty and I did recommend her, but we both also recommended me, and you didn’t pick me.” Sky put a hint of mock hurt in her voice.

  Alexis laughed. “I would have pushed for you, but I knew you were getting Mackenzie back, and you would want to be here when we finally go on the offensive.” Alexis now got serious. “Besides, you are the only one who tells me the truth around here. I need that insight.” She took a drink of wine and continued. “Glad Raferty is keeping you informed. I get official updates from Lisa periodically but wanted to hear something unofficial. Lisa was a good choice. Raferty will work with her but continue to be a pirate, and the Goths need time to figure it all out and what their response should be. I know he’ll take advantage of the lull time.”

  Sky nodded. “That’s what is happening. Rafe says he has many loose ends to clean up. Got rid of the Commonwealth squadron from Rialta. Says he is going to handle a Brie ship next and do a jailbreak—whatever that means. He is also adding a new squadron to his flotilla. Keeping busy.” Sky leaned toward her old friend. “He also said he was very impressed with you during your trip to Hartley. Said you still know your way around a ship and that you’re a born naval officer now stuck in a dead-end job.”

  Alexis laughed at the last few words. “Never heard the monarchy described that way, but I guess he is right. No matter how hard I work, I’ll never get a promotion, medals, pay raise, or a transfer to a nicer place.”

  Mallory smiled and continued. “He was impressed with the Queen’s Own designation for Cobalt and the heavy media coverage of your trip to Hartley to see the Badlands squadron. He’s sure both things have helped against the Goths.”

  Upon the Queen’s return from Navy Base Hartley, she ensured the media was given a long account of her visit there, her designation for Cobalt, and her deep interest in the new Royal Navy Badlands Squadron and their future operations. The Goth embassy would have forwarded all that to their own government.

  Alexis said, “Anything to help. I wish it could have been more ships but not possible.”

  Sky nodded, and the conversation moved to other topics. They talked long into the night and drank the two bottles of wine before retiring.

  The next morning, they ate breakfast together before parting company. They hugged at the door of the private quarters just prior to venturing out into the domain of the servants and the guards.

  Sky held her dearest friend in a tight embrace but then leaned back to look into her face. She
gave her a slight smile and spoke in a quiet voice. “You like him, don’t you?”

  Alexis looked at her. She knew exactly what she meant. They had been friends forever and knew each other very well. Plus, they would never lie to each other. “I do like him,” she answered softly. “Maybe more than I should.” Alexis looked Skyler right in the eye. “You know I would never tell him that, and I would never try to come between you two.”

  Sky smiled wide and nodded. “I know you wouldn’t. I would never think that of you. We have always liked the same things, and I just wanted to confirm it.” She released the Queen and extended her right hand. In it was a small information plug. Alexis stared at it for a second and then accepted it. Neither commented on the action. Sky picked up her bag, and they moved out.

  Chapter 9

  Dylan Whitlock studied the room as a commander studies terrain and comes up with tactics to take advantage of the ground and the situation. The battlefield was a charity event on the Goldenes Tor home planet of Vorfreude. The evening formal gala was in a large ballroom with the requisite festive crowd, but Whitlock did not view it as a social occasion but as the opening move in a military campaign. Where were the threats? Where were the opportunities? What were the best avenues of approach? When would he be within range of his adversary? He discretely watched his target from the edge of his vision. Baron Ernst Hochstadt was across the room holding court with supplicates and hangers-on. Whitlock maintained his view of Hochstadt as the Baron scanned the room with a slight pause on each of the many women scattered throughout the large space. It was clear Hochstadt was in a hunting mood as he barely acknowledged those around him and only half-heartedly replied to their attempts to engage him in conversation. He was without escort but had dressed for maximum effect in a superbly tailored tuxedo with a red shoulder sash. On the sash was the crest of the royal family. The crest was not mere cloth but made of jewels that sparkled from across the room. If the attire wasn’t enough, his stern bearing and curt manners screamed royalty, bored royalty.