by Kal Spriggs
“True enough,” Commodore Creed shrugged. “Though, if you were thinking of betraying us, I'd warn you to look closer... the Centurions and my forces have already been doing joint patrols through this area. If my contacts didn't think you were on the level, then I'd slip one of the Centurions' pocket carriers in behind you and take you down before you knew what hit you.” He said it off-hand, his expression cold and watchful.
Mel gave him a solid nod, “All the more reason for me to play fair. And let’s be honest... from a money standpoint, I can make way more in the long term by doing my job, helping this guy get elected dictator for life, and then taking cushy contracts to train his people and maybe bash heads now and again.”
“If you think it's going that way, yes,” Commodore Creed shrugged. “Again, maybe things aren't as transparent as they seem... and maybe Nashim Rao isn't as power-hungry as you think.”
“Maybe,” Mel shrugged. “I can't say. What I do know is that any nebulous offers of money to kill my prisoner are just that, nebulous offers... it's potential money that comes with a hell of a Sword of Damocles hanging over my head.”
Commodore Creed snorted, “That it would. Fine, Captain, I agree. And lest you think I'm a terrible, paranoid old man... I was about to recommend this course of action myself. In fact, I've had my staff working it, too, and they've come up with a few nice little twists.”
Mel couldn't help the look of shock on her face. After how hard he'd grilled her, she had almost expected him to order her to power down her ship for boarding. She definitely hadn't expected him to agree, or to say that he'd been thinking the same thing.
“One of those twists was to interrogate you and be certain you could be trusted,” Commodore Creed grinned. “But some others I think you'll appreciate rather more. First off, we're going to split Miss Yewell's interview into three parts and ask her to release them over time. We're also going to have Admiral Rao give a set of generic speeches, just the sort of thing that people would expect before the election, but without any specifics. That should keep people confused as to whether he left with your vessel or whether he stayed here in the system. We're also going to do some shuttle traffic, between your ship and mine, as well as some facilities on the surface, with the goal being to add to that confusion.”
Mel ran a hand through her blonde hair. “That makes a lot of sense, sir. Frankly, I wouldn't mind not having to look over my shoulder every five minutes.”
“I thought you'd like that,” Commodore Creed smiled. His expression went stern. “But the key to all of this is having him back just before the election. That gives you two weeks to go chasing pirates. After that, I want the Harmony Protectorate's future President in place and ready to take over.”
“You're so certain he's going to win?” Mel asked.
“It's a foregone conclusion,” Commodore Creed nodded. “Frankly, even if he dies tomorrow, there's a better than even chance they'd elect him. You have to understand, the people of the Protectorate loved him and his family even before all this. The Rao family is like the Armstrongs back on Century, or the McCoy’s in my own system.” Mel hoped she hadn't started too much when he said her surname. “Then he overthrew their corrupt government and executed the worst of the lot? The fact that he exposed severe corruption, cronyism, and then voluntarily stepped down for a general election? There's no way he's going to lose.”
Mel didn't have a response to that. She didn't really like politics, nor did she feel comfortable with where the conversation had gone.
“We'll go with the patrol plan,” Commodore Creed said. “That presents us the best chance to keep him alive. After he's elected, most of the pressure will come off, I think. Go ahead and make your preparations, Captain.”
He ended the call, leaving Mel to wonder whether this had all been a bad idea. She didn't want to leave the system. She was certain her brother was here, but with a big target painted on her back, she didn't feel like she could track him down, at least, not until things cleared up.
This was the best way, she told herself. The commodore is right, once this all blows over, there will be less pressure. After the election, she would have more time to hunt down her brother and try to shake sense into him. What she needed to do was buy herself that time... and leaving the system was the best way to do it.
***
Chapter 9
Time: 0600 12 February 292 G.D.
Location: Deep Space, Harmony Protectorate Space
Mel sat in the command chair, staring at the sensor display, her mind a thousand light-years away. They'd made good time. Commodore Creed's staff had planned their little shell game well, complete with having Admiral Rao go aboard the shuttle and emerge in different locations to wave and smile.
Admiral Rao had been the hardest one to convince to go along with it. Only after she'd taken him to Commodore Creed's ship and let him explain the plan, had he seemed satisfied. The shuffling between planet and ship had begun just after that, and Mel's head spun a bit as she thought of just how many shuttles and trips they'd made in such a short time. They'd done hand-offs at several locations and once she'd even left the Admiral with Commodore Creed's people and picked him up in a different location.
When their guest had returned aboard, he'd almost seemed like a different man, though. He'd kept mostly to himself and Mel had got the feeling that he wasn't crazy about running away from the risks. It's not his decision, we're protecting him.
Despite that, she couldn't help a feeling of dread. Somehow, she felt that the people after her prisoner weren't about to stop.
“It's quiet,” Johnny Woodard spoke up. She hadn't heard him come on the bridge, but his presence didn't startle her.
“Too quiet,” Mel muttered to herself.
“What?” He asked.
“Nothing,” Mel shook her head. “I'm just used to having a set of targeting sensors laid on me, I guess. I feel like I'm waiting for the other boot to drop.”
“I know the feeling,” Woodard nodded. “But we're away from the system, any potential assassins will have a lot of confusion about Rao's location, and even if they learn he's aboard, they won't know our patrol schedule.”
“Yeah,” Mel nodded. Yet she couldn't shake an uncomfortable feeling, like someone was watching them. She stared at the sensors again, void of anything resembling a contact. They were three light years from the nearest inhabited system, there were no ships on sensors, and even if there were, they were in strategic warp, traveling faster than light and out of phase with the rest of the universe. It would be almost impossible for anyone to intercept them.
Somehow, though, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone had her in their sights.
***
Time: 0600 12 February 292 G.D.
Location: Kharma City, Harmony
“Our target has left the star system,” Colonel Frost growled. He looked around his assembled team, his gaze hard as he gauged their expressions.
Far too many of them showed relief, for his liking. Most of them were support personnel, men and women who managed recruiting and supplies for Guard Free Now. Many of them hadn't been on the front lines for years or even decades, assuming they'd ever had to pull a trigger at all.
They're soft and weak, which is something we can't afford. He would have replaced them, or better yet, made examples of them, but for the fact that they were essential to his operations in Harlequin Sector. The resources they had funneled into his action teams had made his efforts possible and had allowed him to come back from his disastrous operation aboard the Fenris.
But he didn't bother to lie to himself about their usefulness in this situation. His contacts in the Guard had passed him the information only an hour ago. They'd received it after a mercenary had leaked it to them. Frost felt irritation again at how he'd been deceived, how they had carefully moved Admiral Rao around again and again... and the last three days of carefully plotted movement had been for nothing. Admiral Rao wasn't in the star system anymore... Colon
el Frost's people had been tracking empty vehicles.
“I'm going after him,” Frost snapped. He saw worry cloud their expressions. That was fine. They could worry... because they had much to worry about. “I want the rest of you to pull back to Liberation Station. All efforts are to be focused on preparation for Operation Tsunami. Our support personnel are to man the station and ready themselves for actions after I've retrieved Jormungandr's Venom.”
“What about the election?” Garina Argun asked. The stocky, older woman seemed caught off-guard by the change. “The Harmony Initiative People's Party for Independence and Equality candidates...”
“Cut all further efforts to support the poltical campaign,” Frost waved a dismissive hand. “You're not going to win, even with Nashim Rao out of the star system, he has too much popular support. You and the other candidates could trot out video of him eating babies and the general public would still elect him.”
“But we've invested so much in winning... this could be a base of operations for you!” Garina whined.
“The Guard wouldn't allow it, and they and their mercenary goons would step in,” Frost closed his eyes. “The whole backing was to draw them into some kind of heavy-handed operation against you and your supporters. It would have made great recruiting material... but it seems that the mercenaries, at least, are too smart to do anything brazen about it.”
Garina seemed aghast to have her efforts reduced to a mere ploy, but Frost didn't care what the woman thought. This had always been about the long-term goals. “Our combat element will focus on the target. Have our ships ready to move. We'll meet at the rendezvous point and I want our full force ready to hit them. Rawn, I want you and your strike team ready to go. Assuming we manage to ambush the Tenacity, then we'll need to board her.”
“Sir,” Rawn nodded. He didn't look happy at the prospect, but that probably came from the bitter experience at the Fenris rather than doubt in the mission. Frost couldn't begrudge the young man his regrets in that regard. Frost had plenty of mixed feelings about that operation himself.
He looked at Garina Argun, “I want you to contact our Protectorate 'allies' and tell them to meet us at the rendezvous point as well, lure them in with some options on revenge against Admiral Rao. I don't care what you have to promise them in terms of future support, they're going to need a support network for their ships and crews, and we're the only game in town.”
“Colonel Frost,” Garina Argun shook her head, “our estimates are that Admiral Mizra took most of his ships to Drakkus. I don't know how much they'll have in the area to support you.”
“I know what the rumors are,” Colonel Frost gave a dismissive wave. “But I doubt that a man with two dreadnoughts plus their escorts, decided to pack up and abandon his homeworld. Odds are that they're holed up somewhere nearby, waiting for an opportune moment. I intend to give them that moment.”
She didn't look reassured, but Frost didn't care. If he'd had the ships that Mizra had, then he would have them staged where they could launch an immediate attack at a moment's notice. He would also have taken the time to leak misdirections as to his forces whereabouts. They're out there, ready to attack... which means they'll jump at my offer, especially if Garina assures them that we'll bring our ships to support them.
Ideally, Frost would have wanted weeks or even months to rehearse fleet movements with his allies and his own ships, but he knew they'd be lucky to get a week or even a few days. He hated being so rushed, but that was a factor to this entire operation.
“Get moving,” Frost snapped. He felt a bit of pleasure as they scurried away at the snap of command in his voice. Some of them may be useless, but they all know to listen to me and follow orders.
***
Bob Walker eased down on the roof of the hotel and breathed a sigh of relief. The glider he'd used to get into position had been slow enough and small enough that it hadn't triggered the building's sensors, which was good. On the bad side, Bob was terrified of heights. The long, slow glide from the nearest skyscraper to the roof of the Kharma Shangra La Hotel had left his stomach in knots and cold sweat down his back. At least I can ditch the damned thing...
Of course, there was a chance that he'd need to use the glider to escape...
Bob pushed that thought to the back of his mind as he carefully folded the glider and then tucked it into a rain gutter. The smart fibers in the glider would dissolve after another three or four hours, so Bob wasn't concerned that someone might find the thing.
He drew his BFR 25 mm, the heavy revolver's weight a comfort to him. Even with the full arm brace, the huge pistol was an awkward weight. Yet Bob treasured its presence, especially given what he expected to face here. He holstered it inside his coveralls and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of his tension.
It had taken him a full week to learn his target's location. He still hadn't received word back from his people on what they wanted him to do, but Bob knew that eliminating this agent would be the highest priority.
Since the Shangra La Hotel was the finest and most secure hotel in downtown Kharma, Bob had a bit of an advantage in that Colonel Steyn's personal suites were in the same hotel. Of course, they were seventeen or more floors apart, but Bob didn't care about that. He'd deal with the Chandral agent and then he'd take care of the corrupted or suborned Guard officer, too.
Bob went to the roof access door and worked for a moment, disabling the door sensor and then the lock. He spared a moment of gratitude for Aldera Kynes, who'd helped him improve his skills in such things. Somehow, under the tension of this mission, he could admit to himself that he really missed her. More than that, he might actually love her... but Bob didn't let himself consider that, not when he couldn't allow any distractions to this mission.
As the door came open, Bob stripped off his black overalls and black face mask, then paused to adjust his hotel service uniform, complete with an access badge he'd cloned from one of the hotel staff earlier in the day. He had memorized the positions of most of the hotel's security monitors, so he kept his head down as he stepped inside.
Bob moved quickly to the service elevator. The security monitors didn't bother him, not now that he was in the building. The scanner pulled his badge ID and pinged to accept his presence in the corridor. The elevator arrived and Bob queued up the floor. The service elevator opened up in a service corridor and Bob moved quickly to the cleaning staff door at the target's suite.
As he paused outside the door and drew his pistol. He had never faced more than one Chandral agent at a time, and this “Mister Bhutto” had a full team of soldat bodyguards.
Walker closed his eyes, fully aware that in all probability, he wouldn't survive the next thirty seconds. Yet the bomb he had with him would finish the job, even if he wasn't able to do it himself. For just a moment, he spared one last thought for Aldera Kynes, almost wishing she was here... yet he quashed that thought. He didn't want her anywhere near one of the Chandral.
What Guard Intelligence had done to her was bad enough. What the Chandral would do to her was far and away worse.
Bob took the fear and anger he felt at those thoughts and wrapped them around himself. For one brief moment, he felt as if his mind were on fire with all of that released emotion. Yet he forced it down, focused it on preventing the outcome he feared from happening, and in between one heartbeat and the next, he felt as if his world slowed to a crawl. In that moment of clarity, Bob Walker ran his badge over the door and stepped into the suite.
***
Singh Rahn was fairly old for a soldat. He had seventeen duty years, which was a good lifespan for one of the Chandral's genetically engineered soldiers. Rahn knew that he would be lucky to live another three years, before genetic deterioration and organ failure killed him.
Of course, odds were that he would be given the Lazaran treatment prior to that, anyway. It would be a clean, quick way to go, and his body would continue service to his masters. The thought gave him some pleasure, knowing that des
pite his body's failures, it would continue to function.
The mesedi, the elite guard of the Heirarchs, they lived longer so that they could serve their masters for longer. Yet Rahn didn't mind that he was not one of them. They had many duties, many weights. Rahn was content with his assignments. To guard even one of the Heirarch’s representatives among the apru was a heavy duty, particularly with the risk of so much of the unclean technology that pervaded this group of apru.
Rahn heard the service door to the suite open and he looked up in surprise. Normally the human cleaning staff came later in the morning and they announced their presence. His hand was already coming up with his weapon when he found himself staring at the barrel of a huge firearm.
For just a moment, he froze, suddenly cognizant of the fact that he had failed in his purpose, that he would die and that his death would come far more suddenly than he had expected.
There was a flash of light and then Rahn's world ended. Far more quickly and painlessly than he could ever have expected.
***
The deafening sound of the BFR twenty-five millimeter pistol in the confines of the suite was an assault on Bob's ears, despite the noise filtering ear plugs that he wore. The muzzle blast was like a physical slap on the face, and the flash had ignited furniture in the anteroom.
The door to the front office opened and Bob fired as a humanoid figure rushed through. His round struck the woman in the shoulder, but the huge twenty-five millimeter round still blasted her torso apart. The round continued through her to strike the other guard behind her. The painful shock of the recoil hammered up Bob's arm, despite the arm brace.
Bob swung the pistol in line with the bedroom and waited, expecting the rest of the security team or even his target to emerge... yet there was nothing.
