by Richard Fox
“We need to move quickly and scout the terrain. When it starts to hunt, we draw it into a kill zone and Duke takes it out with his rail rifle,” Steuben said. “If we can chip away at it with our assault rifles, then his weapon—”
“Give me a clear shot with Ice Claw and I’ll turn that thing into dust,” the sniper said.
“High-powered shots from gauss rifles could manage to disable it,” King said. “Then Garrison can chime in.”
“Ain’t no problem in this galaxy that high explosives can’t solve,” the breacher said.
“You power up gauss tech, you’ll be in a world of hurt,” Fallon said.
“Sitting around won’t kill the Beast,” Hoffman said. “Better to take a risk and succeed than wait for inevitable failure. There’s a war against the Kesaht we all want to get back to.”
Long, uncomfortable moments passed.
Fallon was the highest-ranking military authority on the planet and Hoffman respected him.
Rubbing his chin with a hand that held his chopped-down cigar, Fallon said, “There’s a lot of things that can go wrong. I expect the execution of the plan will look nothing like the planning of the plan. We all know the maxim about first contact. Do it.”
“Oorah,” Hoffman said evenly.
“Get with the quartermaster and draw the gear you need,” Fallon said.
Duke rubbed his hands together quickly and smiled.
Chapter 12
Masha strode down the hallway, smoothing her lab coat nervously—a ridiculous emotion. Seventeen alien worlds in twelve standard months—and nearly as many missions—and she was afraid of being called out about a simple forgery? Eleven forgeries, actually, but who was counting?
"I have nothing to worry about," she muttered, feeling for the nearly invisible dart packet she kept under the cuff of her jacket. "There's always plan B. Or plan C. Or random-ass improvisation.”
She checked her reflection in one of the monitor screens, happy with her hair and understated makeup. The glasses she didn’t need were a nice touch, but probably the source of her nervousness—taking a disguise too far could be a weakness.
Unable to delay, she swiped her identification card and entered the laboratory. Her glasses were fine. What were the chances a building full of the smartest people on the planet would notice they were fake?
She calmed her breathing and cleared her mind. “You called for me, Mrs. Yarrow?”
Lilith Yarrow, not an unattractive woman, crossed her arms and stared. A bit taller than Masha, she wore the same style of lab coat, and although she lacked any rank insignia or other obvious markings of authority, her presence was intimidating.
Fragments of ancient technology were spread across three tables. Protractors, slide rulers, and notes taken on actual graph paper supplemented modern scanners, electron microscopes, and infrared spectroscopy stations. Frequent limitations on the use of electronic devices inspired creativity she’d never expected from these science types.
Masha swiped back a strand of hair, checking for exits.
"The Qa’Resh tech you delivered are fakes. An explanation is required,” Lilith said, pointing a metal stylus grounded against electricity at what could have been the skin of a metal apple. Missing circuits left gaps around the top hemisphere of the device. Scorch marks seemed to have originated from the core of the item. “We know this is an insulation sphere…not something that ever had internal power. The scorching should have been limited to the outside of the device.”
“I don’t understand,” Masha said, pretending to study the device.
“It’s a fake.”
"How can that be? They came from Pathfinders on the northern galactic rim. They've always been my most trusted sources of archaeotech.”
Lilith shifted her stance but didn’t uncross her arms or look away. "What tests did you use to verify authenticity? Did your sources find these items themselves or pick them up from somebody else? I normally trust the Pathfinders, but they're not scientists."
Masha made a show of touring the worktables with barely suppressed anxiety. A staff-like object with four prongs at the end was real—mixed in with the fakes to lend credibility. She knew which pieces were real because she had collected the items herself from lost worlds—the most recent from Koen. Other pieces…they were probably fake. She bought them to help bolster her cover as an expert in the field of Qa’Resh archeology. It'd been a calculated risk.
Lilith stepped to a table insulated against electrical currents and picked up a scythe-shaped book with dead screens instead of pages. "This piece has been sorely mishandled over the years. I'm finding residue of multiple worlds on it, which means it's probably been bouncing around in somebody's cargo hold for years until he or she realized it was valuable. Whoever brought this to you bought it off the black market."
Despite her complete lack of emotion, Masha made her face turn red with anger, a skill she’d learned early in her spy training. People were easy to fool when they expected a person to act a certain way. The nervousness had passed. She was in her element now.
"Are you saying I cut corners? I assure you, I was meticulous in my review of these items. I’m certain these are not fakes. Just where do you get off questioning my expertise?” Masha asked, holding her gaze firm, her nose slightly raised to elicit just the right response.
“You’re new here.” Lilith slammed the fake against the table. “So very new, so I’ll cut you just a little bit of slack. Akkadians—of which I’m one, in case you missed which planet you’re on—have worked with Qa’resh technology for hundreds—yes, hundreds—of years. The Toth imprisoned my ancestors, tricked them into believing they were gods, not monsters, and we hacked a Qa’Resh probe, and bent it to the Toth’s will. I was the senior scientist under the Toth until my husband and the Breitenfeld saved us.”
Yes, keep talking, Masha thought as she looked down at her feet, feigning embarrassment.
“Eridu has been the Terran Union’s main lab studying Qa’Resh tech since Marc and Stacey Ibarra went rogue, and I am still the top scientist. So if I tell you something is a fake, it is a Saint-damned fake, you understand me?”
“Yes, Dr. Yarrow.” Masha fought back a smile. Mighty kind of Lilith to identify herself as the primary target of Masha’s mission to Eridu. Her knowledge would serve Lady Ibarra’s needs…just how to get her back to Navarre was a different problem.
Three beeps sounded from the public-address system. “All personnel, stand by for scheduled power-down. This is a security measure. All personnel, stand by for scheduled power-down.”
Lilith frowned and turned her back on Masha, walking briskly to a computer station to type vigorously. Data entry complete, she just as abruptly moved to the next table. “These three devices are most assuredly fakes. This one has potential. It may not be Qa’Resh, but they may have used it.”
“Expensive, but probably worth it. Fakes have long been the bane of archeologists,” Lilith said. “I apologize if I alarmed you. Confrontation isn’t really my thing.”
Masha feigned humility. “Have I thanked you for the opportunity to work on Eridu? It’s the center of science and discovery right now. If not for the local dangers and the war, this planet would be the new Oxford, or Harvard or—”
Lilith rolled her eyes.
Masha moved closer, then placed one hand on Lilith’s shoulder. A second passed, and she knew she’d slipped past an important trust barrier. “You seem stressed. I’m sorry if I’m the cause.”
Lilith stepped away, closing a tablet she’d been using to take notes. “It’s not you, or the work, or that damn Beast. I have a child off world—well, not so childish now, but she’ll always be my baby. Sorry, I’m being one of those parents who annoy nonparents. It’s not your problem.”
Masha hugged herself. “I’m from a big family. Mother and Father argued a lot, usually about our well-being. I’m sorry about all this. Costs of the career, right?”
“Something like that,” Lilith said.
“So what did I do wrong? I’d like to avoid paying for a fake in the future. If my grant money comes through, I’ll have a team to excavate more of the archaeotech myself. But I still have to contract the really dangerous stuff…like you suggested.”
Lilith paused. “That’s a good way to react. I’m sorry if I insulted you earlier. The fakes aren’t your fault. I’ve just never seen that many forgeries at once. It’s weird.”
Well, we had to see which of you Akkadians were smart enough to pick them out, Masha thought. And you didn’t disappoint.
“Where’s your library?” Masha asked. “I need to study your research. You must have so much that can be put to use by the right people.”
****
Masha stretched her arms up, noting the reflection of an armed guard passing by the lab.
“My coffee’s cold. Would you mind if I took a break?” Masha asked Lilith.
“Go ahead,” Lilith said without looking up from her microscope.
“Want anything?”
Lilith didn’t answer.
Masha stepped into the hallway, found a drinking fountain, and dumped the untouched coffee. No one was around. She tapped her ear once to activate the quantum dot device in her ear.
“Medvedev, are you there?”
“I am. On a work detail to the western bunkers, filling in sand bags.”
“You sound jealous I’m in air-conditioning. You legionnaires too good for manual labor?”
“My cover demands this. Hard work for the body is good work for the soul. What do you need?”
She went to the corner and glanced around it to be sure no one was eavesdropping on her. She’d picked this hallway because the cameras were poorly positioned and easy to evade. “I’ve identified a target, Lilith Yarrow, an expert on Qa’Resh tech. She saw through the fakes immediately. The others believed everything I gave them was real. Imbeciles.”
“You serve the Lady well…when you’re not captured.” Medvedev sounded half asleep.
“Such an ass, my little bear. You were just as captured as I was that last time, remember?” Something tickled Masha’s spine, so she walked toward the lounge to “refill” her coffee as Lilith Yarrow’s husband came around the next corner. This Yarrow, the former Strike Marine medic-turned-doctor, talked with his hands, his enthusiasm evident as he spoke of the research facility.
Masha caught herself as she saw the Karigole behind Yarrow, but her heart skipped a beat when she caught a glimpse of Hoffman with the big alien.
Ducking into the break room and opening a refrigerator, the spy bent over, blocking her face from the doorway as Yarrow and the others went by. Masha kept her head in the room-temperature fridge, smelling lunches that had succumbed to the power outage.
She reached into her lab coat and gripped the small pistol loaded with dumdum bullets, but getting made and shooting her way out of this building was not her mission. She wondered just how many times she’d have to hit the Karigole.
“Problem,” Masha said.
“Elaborate.”
“That Union dog Hoffman is here. In my work area.” Masha ran a hand through her hair, wishing she’d dyed it to cover the distinctive platinum-blonde strands before she arrived on Eridu.
“Is he looking for you?”
Masha peeked over the refrigerator door and saw Yarrow’s tour turn into the lab where Lilith worked.
“Doubt it. He’d be armed and have the rest of his mutts with him. Do you think that doughboy is finally dead? Probably not…” She repeated an expletive over and over again, trying to remember her exit plan for the building.
“Can you eliminate Hoffman?” Medvedev asked.
“Not the mission,” Masha said.
“Excuse me,” came from the doorway.
Reaching into her coat, Masha gripped the pistol, turned slowly, and found Yarrow blocking her only way out.
“It’s Martha, right?” Yarrow asked.
“Yes, sir.” Masha gave him her best smile.
“The other Doctor Yarrow needs you to go to tube room four and pick up a transfer from the university. I’m here for coffee. There extra cups?”
“Top shelf. We’re out of creamer. Excuse me.” Her heart racing, Masha slipped past him and went down the hallway with as much speed as she could muster without drawing attention.
She slipped into the tube room and put her back to the door, pneumatic tubes clunking and hissing as canisters shot through them. A stack of tubes the width of plumbing lines rattled as a plastic cylinder rattled into a basket.
On the bottom level was a much larger tube—wide enough that Masha could crawl inside.
“Medvedev…” She rapped knuckles against the big tube. “Where do these big lines run?”
“All through the city. We had shovels delivered to our work area that way. It is rather efficient.”
“I have an idea.”
“Very nice, Doctor,” Hoffman’s voice carried through the door. Masha drew her pistol and went to one knee, training the muzzle on the door. “But it doesn’t help us with the Beast…” The Strike Marine’s conversation faded as he went down the hallway.
Masha let out a sigh and re-holstered her weapon just as the door burst open and Lilith put a hand to her hip. “There a problem?” she asked.
“Just…” Masha began, picking up a stray piece of paper, “dropped something. Sorry, ma’am. Your sample’s here.” She picked out the canister and handed it over.
“You missed a war hero,” Lilith said. “Steuben the Karigole. You ever see that Last Stand on Takeni movie?”
“Hasn’t everyone?”
“Don’t mention it to Steuben if you do run into him. He’ll bite your face off.”
“Sounds like my kind of person,” Medvedev said.
Masha ran her hand over her ear and shut off the transmitter.
Chapter 13
As his team moved slowly through the early morning jungle, Hoffman pulled his leg from the muck, nearly losing his boot, which would’ve been unthinkable in his regular gear. Sabatons integrated into modern Strike Marine armor and stayed on unless there was an explosive amputation. On Eridu, no amount of fatigue blousing and one-hundred-mile-an-hour tape could keep the ooze from his socks, which meant he couldn’t tie his boots tight enough to guarantee the continued benefits of footwear.
“Whose idea was this?” Garrison complained from the front. “And why am I always on point? Do you want me to get eaten?”
“Opal not let Garrison get eaten,” said the doughboy, who sank to his mid-thighs while the breacher was up to his waist in murky water.
A cloud of mosquitoes rose up from the bogs around them and advanced like a swarm of tiny Xaros drones. Hoffman checked his gear to be sure there weren’t any openings. “I’ll be glad to get back to regular armor just to keep the bugs out.”
“You see? That’s what I’m talking about,” Garrison said. “Every single planet has little biters that love the way I taste. Oh, good. More rain.”
Sheets of precipitation fell straight down, pounding Hoffman’s helmet until he could barely hear himself think, and visibility dropped to nothing. He thought the mosquitoes would retreat, but they didn’t. “Someone check on Gor’al.”
“I’ve got him,” Booker said.
“None of you believe me that I’ve never been in a swamp before. How was I to know about quicksand?” the Dotari asked.
“You know about quicksand by looking at quicksand. What made you think you could wade through it?” Booker asked.
“I’m walking through this. What could be the difference? The quicksand looked more solid than this tharji piss pretending to be water.”
Exercising the first lesson in officer candidate school, Hoffman climbed onto a rotting tree stump and counted his people. The days of glancing into his HUD to check their status were behind him for the foreseeable future. Exercising the second lesson, situational awareness, he asked, “King, anything following us?”
“Negative. Not yet,” K
ing replied as something wet worked its way up Hoffman’s pants leg. He smacked it hard, thinking it could be a snake. Duke and Max looked at him.
"False alarm. Thought I had a visitor."
Duke lifted his visor to spit chewing tobacco into the swamp. "Good to know. I made the mistake of looking up if there’s a local variant of candiru fish or piranhas."
“Well?” Garrison looked over his shoulder. “Are there?”
“You’ll know when you feel something nibble on your pecker hole,” Duke said.
“You all talk too much,” grumbled Steuben, who seemed more at home in the swamp than anyone else. “Reminds me of Standish. I wish Gunney Cortaro had followed up on his many promises to that yammering little puppy.”
“I have a few ideas about what Cortaro had in mind,” King said.
As the rain abated, a pair of drones shot overhead. On a normal day, Hoffman would’ve been glad to see them, since the devices provided real-time intelligence in battle and boosted his confidence. These made him feel vulnerable. The IR transmitter in his ear gave him updates and linked him to Fallon and Yarrow in the city while taunting the Beast to come out of its lair.
One by one, his team looked up as the drones weaved among trees and hanging vines.
"You're making me nervous with those things, LT," Booker said.
Gor’al nodded vigorously. "Me as well. How do they not ruin our plan?"
"Don't worry, the drones will go down before the Beast shows up to eat our guts." Hoffman wished he felt as confident as he sounded. Their plan relied on drawing the Beast at a specific time to a specific location. He didn't want the drones muddling the circumstances.
"Command for Hammer Six," Yarrow said over the IR link.
"Hammer Six, go."
"Sweep of the sector is complete, no movement. Sending the drones around for a second pass. Expect weather to abate soon. Less rain, more humidity."
"Pass the word, forecast is for less rain. No contact with the Beast.”
"Copy that,” Booker said then sent the message down the line. A series of thumbs-ups came back to acknowledge everyone had got the word.
