by Kal Spriggs
***
Chapter 2
Time: 0900 Zulu, 15 January 292 G.D.
Location: Liberation Station, Harmony System
“Where are we on Project Tsunami?” Colonel Michael Frost, Regional Commander of Guard Free Now, asked of his senior lieutenant. The pair of them had arrived in the Harmony system within three weeks of the Guard “Peacekeeping” force and they'd both been hard at work ever since. Their makeshift base on the small station they'd “acquired” from some smugglers was coming together, finally and a steady flow of ships, freedom fighters, and weapons had been arriving over the past few weeks.
“We've acquired the ships,” Rawn Armstrong replied. “I've had my people begin the modifications... but are you sure about this?”
“We're not going to have to do it,” Frost waved a hand. It was a lie, just as he'd lied to many of his people before, but it wasn't much of one. He didn't plan to have to use the ships here in the Harmony Protectorate, but there were plenty of more legitimate targets that he knew that Project Tsunami would work against.
“Any news on our target?” Frost asked, though he'd already read the intelligence reports on that. Mostly he wanted to get a feel for how Rawn was holding up under the increased responsibilities.
“We've identified the prison they're holding him in,” Rawn admitted. “The extraction team is working on an entry. I gather that the Guard Peacekeepers assigned one of their most loyal units of Guard Army to that particular prison. They're not as open to bribery as most Guard Army units.”
“I can't say I'm surprised,” Colonel Frost admitted with a shrug. “Despite the overall corruption, the Guard does have some good and capable fighting units.” He'd been in one such before he'd awoken to the truth. Long before he'd been branded as a terrorist, he'd done terrible things in the name of the United Nations Star Guard.
“Right, then, we'll continue with the infiltration,” Frost said. “Let me know of any issues with Project Tsunami, though. We've got a lot riding on this operation.”
That wasn't an understatement. Almost all of their surviving field personnel and all of their support personnel had moved to the Harmony Protectorate. Almost all of their hard cash had been used to secure ships and additional personnel. Pirate craft were among that, but so were some renegade Harmony Protectorate ships and crews... and more money and promises of support had garnered allies from the ousted Protectorate's military.
If this operation went bust, then the best that Colonel Frost could hope for was that someone else managed to pick up the pieces, because he was pretty sure that Guard Free Now would effectively be wiped out as an organization within Harlequin Sector.
It left him feeling nervous about the commitment, here. Not that he had much of a choice. Success here would not only strike a huge blow against the Guard, but it could potentially gain Guard Free Now a safe-haven within Guard Space.
There was much to gain and everything to lose... but somehow he couldn't help but think about the last big-risk operation he'd led... the attempt to capture the autonomous warship Fenris. That had gone horribly wrong. Colonel Frost had lost a lot of good men, only he and Rawn had survived to escape the ship, right before Guard Fleet had destroyed it in the Vagyr system.
There was a lot of interference on that mission, including Rawn's idiot sister, Frost told himself, things are far different here... no one will see us coming.
Time: 2200 Zulu, 15 January 292 G.D.
Location: Vagyr System
Agent Scadden listened to the recorded message for the third time, his eyes closed as he listened to his former mentor's hurried voice, “...almost certainly there's a Guard Free Now operation trying to turn this to their advantage. I recommend that you follow the money....”
If only you knew, Agent Scadden chuckled to himself. Jean Paul Leone, or Marcus Keller or Nigel Troy as he called himself now, had been out of the game a while. While his instincts were good, Agent Scadden was far ahead of him. He knew that Guard Free Now had an operation in the Harmony Protectorate. They had to have an operation there, they had to have some response to the heavy-handed and possibly illegal intervention on the Protectorate's government.
In fact, Agent Scadden had counted on that when he'd authorized the operation. He was glad to hear that the Mercenary Guild had decided to send the Fenris to support the peacekeeper task force, as well. The crew would prove useful in more ways than one. They stirred things up, which was exactly what Agent Scadden wanted.
The mess in the Protectorate was just the sort of thing that Agent Scadden knew could blow up. It was a powder keg waiting to happen... and ironically, he was quite willing to let loose a bunch of pyromaniacs like the crew of the Fenris to defuse the situation.
“...have to find Rawn Armstrong. At this point, what I've learned suggests that he's moved up in the organization, maybe as high as messenger or courier...”
Try section leader or possibly even more senior, Agent Scadden thought. Evidence that Guard Intelligence had collected suggested that Rawn Armstrong had been building bombs that killed over three hundred Guard Army personnel on Dakota. That at least had been a military target, but Agent Scadden didn't know if it had been planned as one. Similar bombs had gone off in a police station, a public mall, and the spaceport at Triad. While those bombs hadn't had Armstrong's DNA residue, they'd been designed and triggered in similar fashion, and they'd killed almost five hundred civilians.
So far, he'd kept the DNA links quiet, thanks to friends in Guard Intelligence's forensics department. Slight tweaks of the records had focused the counter-terrorism investigations on the method of construction of the bombs rather than identifying the DNA they'd found. But that would only last so long.
Agent Scadden didn't really care if Rawn Armstrong had gone full rogue terrorist, but Rawn's family connections were the problem. If he was identified, then it would certainly draw his grandmother into the whole mess, and that would draw Century into it all. Also, he imagined it would complicate matters if the boy's sister became involved. Jean Paul seemed certain that she was going to try to “save” her brother. While that might be possible, it would also complicate things, especially if it outed her or the Fenris... Agent Scadden might lose one of his aces in the hole.
“...lure them in, take them out with a bomb, possibly? It's a thought, anyway, let me know what you think. Nigel, out.”
He's using his newest cover name, smart of him, Agent Scadden noted to himself. He wondered if Jean Paul had begun to think of himself as Nigel Troy. If the man had shed his past yet again... and if the former Guard Intelligence Agent really hoped that it would be a way for him to start over with Melanie Armstrong.
The bomb was a good idea, in reality. Especially if Agent Scadden could tweak the forensics to make it look like a malfunctioned GFN bomb. That would take attention away from where he didn't want it. Definitely need to consider it... Rawn Armstrong was a problem that he wouldn't mind making disappear... even in such a spectacular fashion.
Time: 0200 Zulu, 16 January 292 G.D.
Location: New Paris System
Punatra frowned in distaste as he reviewed the information his agents had assembled on the Harmony Protectorate. Ordinarily he would have considered the region of little note, especially against the grand scheme of his plans. The Chandral had little interest in the politics of such a minor power.
Yet it was that minor power which had developed such a very powerful weapon. A world-killer... possibly a civilization killer. This could be the tool that he could use to leverage himself ahead, to guarantee his ascendency within the Hierarchs.
As yet, his agents had no success in learning details of this weapon or even whether it truly existed. The military coup, started by Admiral Rao, had declared that the construction of weapons of mass destruction was one of their reasons, along with the removal of various corrupt families from power. Punatra scoffed at the very idea of the latter. Revolutions only traded one group of corrupt leaders for another. Power was the end goal, and consol
idation of power was what those in power wanted.
Punatra would have to investigate personally, if he wanted any answers. Of the dozens of his kind sent among the apru, too many had disappeared or been killed. Those that remained were too tightly involved in subversion of the military, civilian, and governmental authorities among the Guard to be retasked.
It burned at him that his kind had been thwarted, especially by the primitive apru. They were little better than beasts, far too given to delusions of sentiment and morality, and many of them still embraced primitive superstitions such as religion. Yet they were numerous and their policing and use of mechanical technology was advanced, for all that it was repulsive and, in the end, futile.
The Chandral would still win, of that Punatra had no doubt. His people had subverted many of those in power, either indirectly through bribery and corruption or through more direct means. Punatra had been able to engineer their decisions, destabilizing things still further. Within a decade, his people would be ready to move. This splinter of humanity would fall into chaos and the Chandral would step in as their rightful leaders.
Punatra fully expected to step in as the Heirarch of a new sector of the Empire, to rule over the space that he had made ripe for conquest. He'd selected the planets where he would locate his palaces, he had even selected the families from which he would draw his first harems, to begin breeding his line into the local population.
The best part was how they would welcome him and his people. They would see the horrors unleashed upon them by their old leaders and, unknowing, they would invite the very engineers of their destruction to rule over them.
Dismantling their industrial technology base would take generations, but Punatra would oversee that, and there would be millions of new slaves to spend their lives in the efforts, who could then rise again as Lazaran. It would not be swift, but within two centuries, the entire section of Guard Space would be a productive sector of the Chandral Empire.
And finding this rumored weapon was the key, Punatra felt. The weapon... assuming it existed, who his agents had reported was capable of devastating entire planets. Untraceable, virulent, utterly destructive... His suborned Guard Fleet officers had only been able to learn its name: Jormungandr's Venom. Was it some biological weapon, he wondered, or one of electrons and digits? The Harmony Protectorate held the key... and that was where Punatra would have to go.
Jormungandr's Venom would be his... and he would use it as the crowning achievement to devastate Guard Space, so that when he swept in as their savior, they would welcome any excess, any requirement, just so that their suffering would end.
***
Chapter 3
Time: 1900 Zulu, 28 January 292 G.D.
Location: Kharma City, Harmony System
“Captain Amiss,” Major General Mavis Tibault didn't rise to greet her, “welcome to the Harmony Protectorate.” The stocky, harsh-planed face woman sat behind a big desk. Her gray-green Guard Army uniform was not flattering to her figure at all, she sort of looked like a bag of potatoes stuffed into a too-tight burlap sack.
“Ma'am,” Mel nodded respectfully. The General's Chief of Staff stood next to her desk, a datapad in hand. On the other side of the desk, the General's aide took notes on another datapad. Behind her desk, Mel could see dozens of displays open, along with a stream of newsfeeds that seemed to be from the star system.
“We've got plenty of mercenaries out here eating our budget, so you'll excuse me if I don't seem happy to see another one... but your Guild insists that we can use one more ship,” she gave what might have generously be called a smile, but it made her look like a constipated badger. “I don't need ships. I need ground forces to maintain order on the planet. I need inspection teams who can search for contraband. I most of all need infiltration teams who can identify rebellious cells so we can round up any troublemakers before this referendum.”
“Troublemakers, ma'am?” Mel asked. “I thought we were here to ensure a safe and fair general election of a transitional government.”
“We're here to make sure that the people of this fine, upstanding star nation make the right decisions regarding their leadership,” Major General Tibault snapped. “And thus far, their judgment in the matter hasn't particularly impressed me. Your job, now that you're here, is to assist us in the blockade of the planet and to ensure that no further contraband makes it to the planet. My Chief of Staff will forward you a list of contraband as well as your patrol sector. You'll be reporting to Commodore Creed of Hammer Squadron, mercenaries out of the Mason Corvale system. His staff runs overall operational control over our mercenary contingent.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Mel nodded.
“That is all, you're dismissed,” Major General Tibault waved a hand.
Mel stepped out. She had a sinking feeling about the whole operation already. Not that she'd expected to be impressed by the Guard Peacekeepers, but Mel had sort of hoped that the mercenaries would be treated well... and that the Peacekeepers would at least pretend to care about the star system.
The Guard Peacekeeper headquarters bustled with movement. She saw officers moving from one office to another, many of them hurrying with reports... but she wasn't certain what they were actually doing. Mel paused in front of the largest screen, which seemed to be a display of one of the planet's local news feeds. “...in the latest election polls, Admiral Rao leads his opponents by a twenty percent margin. His willingness to step down after the coup has firmly entrenched his reform platform in the minds of many of the Harmony Protectorate....”
“Our employers aren't too happy about that, in case you didn't notice,” a gruff voice spoke up next to her. Mel turned in surprise to find a bearded man in a rust red uniform. She recognized the uniform and the patch on his shoulder after a moment. Hock, she thought, this is my boss... or at least, the man organizing our assignments.
“Commodore Creed?” Mel asked.
“In the flesh,” the man nodded in reply. He turned around and waved at someone behind them. “Admiral Armstrong, thanks for getting me those numbers, I'll try to have my projections for you tomorrow morning, if that works?”
Mel looked over her shoulder and she froze. The Admiral stood only a few meters away. Tall, blonde, and just as youthful as Mel remembered. Unlike Major General Tibault, the Admiral wore her khaki uniform as if were made for her, tall, striking, and sleek. Mel's heart froze, but her grandmother didn't seem to notice her... or if she did, she didn't give any signs of recognition.
“That will be fine, Thomas,” the Admiral said. Her blue eyes flitted to Mel's face and for a moment, their intense gaze seemed to bore right through Mel. Please, Mel thought, please don't recognize me...
“Captain Amiss, glad to have you aboard, I'm looking forward to seeing you and your ship in action,” the Admiral nodded. Then she turned and walked away.
Mel's throat felt dry and she wasn't sure if she had remembered to breathe. “Quite the presence, eh, Captain?” Commodore Creed snorted, seeming to mistake Mel's expression.
“Yeah, a bit,” Mel admitted. “She commands the Centurions, then?”
“Yes indeed, and though she technically outranks me and has a much larger contingent than my mercenary company's contribution to the task force, the Centurions are subordinate to my team... because of politics.” He almost spat the word.
Mel looked around them at the Guard officers in motion. She was more than a bit surprised that the mercenary would even imply any criticism of their employers in such a public venue.
“Oh, don't worry about them, they're all far too busy to care what the hired help has to say about them,” Commodore Creed snorted. “They're all on damage control, because the Guard have come out of all of this looking like the villains.”
“What?” Mel asked in surprise. “But didn't they come in to guarantee the election?”
“They thought they'd be putting in their own candidates for an easy victory,” Commodore Creed grinned. “So they came in heavy-handed, est
ablishing a bunch of 'temporary' commercial contracts for supplies and shipping, all of it going through their vendors rather than locals. It immediately impacted the economy and as soon as it hit the newsfeeds that Major General Tibault's cousin is one of those contractors... well, things went south rather quickly after that.”
Mel blanched as she realized what that meant. The Guard Peacekeeper force had probably been filled with hangers-on and cronies and they had probably tried to stack the deck for those people... in the process, they would have alienated most of the locals.
She nodded at the newsfeed, “So the officer who led the coup... he's legitimately leading the election polls so far?”
“Oh, yes, as much as they've tried to discredit him, he's quite the local hero,” Creed nodded. “Worse than that, he's running his campaign for election from prison. The Guard have him locked up pending war crimes charges, but they'll have to cut him loose if he wins the election. They'll have no choice about it.” Creed gave a grim smile, “Major General Tibault is quite upset about all of this.”
“We're stuck in the middle of this, sir?” Mel asked in a quiet voice.
“It's not as bad as that,” Commodore Creed said. “Our pay comes from the Peacekeeper budget, but our charter is through the Harmony Protectorate... so whoever is elected to their transitional government is going to be our final employer. So for now, we do as we're told... and we don't burn any bridges. We also don't stick around the headquarters building too much. I'm just here to welcome you in person, I'm headed back to space myself.”
Mel could read between the lines. Admiral Rao was going to win the election, outside any major corruption. When he did, the mercenaries would be reporting to him... and at that point, it didn't matter what the Major General thought of their performance. “I see. Any advice on the conduct of our duties, sir?”
