by Rob Howell
“I gather information. In any case, once is lucky, twice is coincidence…”
“And three times is enemy action,” concluded Russell.
“Exactly,” agreed Edmonds. “Someone who prefers Zuul contractors attacked us on Cimaron, Penninah, and in Houston.”
“Who?”
“If we knew, the Huron and Algonquin would already be moving and every Forester I could scrape up would be on them.” He glanced at Blaine. “What conclusion does that suggest to you?”
“That you better find them before they kill you.”
“And who are you?” growled Russell.
Blaine hesitated, then shrugged. “I must insist that you keep this to yourself. As of now, the colonel and you are the only ones who need to know.”
“A spook,” spat the warrant.
“Yes, but I’m not as different from you as you might think. I used to drive CASPers.”
“With whom?”
“Nobody that matters. We’re much like the Foresters. We hire our services out to those who’ll pay, as you do. Like some other merc units, we’re publicly traded, though you’re unlikely to figure out which stock is ours. However, instead of driving CASPers, we focus on electronic intelligence. As our founder likes to say, ‘We deal in ELINT, friend.’” Blaine smiled. “He’s partial to historical media.”
“Why are you here?” Russell glanced at the colonel. “Did you hire him?”
Edmonds shook his head. “Not exactly. He’s here on his own.”
“I was there when your troopers were murdered. I think I prevented them from being completely annihilated, but I couldn’t do any more than that.”
“I’ve known very few spooks with a conscience,” muttered Russell.
“We exist. But, perhaps, I’ve been a spook too long.” Blaine suddenly grinned. “In any case, my boss is already having kittens. I might as well have fun while I can.”
Edmonds nodded. “In light of this news, I’m reorganizing the unit.”
“How so?” asked Russell.
“First, I’m bumping Fournette up to regimental S-2.”
“Fournette? But he’s—”
“Young and inexperienced. Yes. And that’s why I want you to stay in Toronto. He needs you around so he can pick your brain.”
“Why him?”
“Name an officer who gave us more trouble in officer training.”
Russell’s eyes hardened. “Not a damn one.”
“He’s smart, and most importantly he doesn’t think in straight lines.” Edmonds tapped the first letter. “Whoever hired the Zuul is playing a convoluted game. Tlanit has his own set of rules. The Zuul are playing something else. No one knows what the Wathayat are thinking. And there could be others.”
“True.”
“Having you in Toronto makes it easier for me to communicate with you,” added Blaine. “I don’t want to go directly to your S-2. That’s too obvious. I also don’t want to come back to Owen Sound very often. I’ve provided the colonel with equipment so we can communicate with each other securely. However, the more traffic we generate, the more likely the encryption will be broken.”
Edmonds leaned over. “Mr. Blaine has convinced me that we need to further upgrade our recruiting and training software, and his company—”
“Elite Training Software,” supplied Blaine.
“—Elite Training Software, has an excellent package. Since we’re upgrading to Mk 8s anyway, we might as well take advantage of the transition. Mr. Blaine will be at your office installing and updating the software and showing you and Private Stanley how to use it. His techs will be in and out of West Rocks and Owen Sound.”
“That makes sense. Lord knows you won’t be the first software guy running around the office.” Russell thought for a moment. “If Fournette will be S-2, what about Captain Helman?”
“He’s wanted a company for a while, so I gave him Bravo. And before you ask, I sent Captain Gregg to West Rocks. He blames himself for Peninnah at least as much as you’re dwelling on MacKenzie. He needs a break even if he didn’t have those family issues going on. Besides, with the number of recruits we’re pushing through, Dozier will need help running things.”
“It’s your company, Colonel.”
Edmonds laughed grimly. “It is for now. In any case, I expect Fournette to be erratic. I told him to be creative, but to bounce everything off you.”
“And Recruiting?”
“Stay there, but let Stanley run everything. You told me he was due to be bumped up to corporal.”
“Yeah, he’s a good kid. Smart. Conscientious. Tough enough to stand up to me when I was out of line.”
“Good. I filed the promotion form this morning. Take some stripes with you.”
“Will do, sir.”
“Back to the main issue. We’ll funnel all intel through you, Master Warrant Officer. You give it to Fournette and Mr. Blaine. Since the S-2’s office is upstairs from yours, he’ll be within easy reach. I doubt anyone will wonder if you and Fournette have coffee together every day.”
“Yes, sir.”
Blaine turned to Russell. “I suggest you push your lieutenant. It’ll be good to have someone else trying to piece the puzzle together. We’ve learned that inexperienced analysts may make more mistakes, but they also suggest new paths veterans ignore.”
He paused. “I cannot urge you strongly enough to avoid electronic communication unless it’s sent through our software or equipment. You probably know that any security system can be broken, given sufficient skills, tools, and time, even ours. However, we can make it more secure if you use our Training Report System. We have ways of embedding messages in those reports, and I’ll show you two how to do that. We suggest you use the report system consistently to notify us of actual issues with our software. Then, people will be less likely to notice when you embed secure messages. The purloined letter approach still works.”
“Makes sense, sir,” agreed Russell. “I’ll let the NCOs at West Rocks know that we want everything they can give us.”
“Never hurts to tell them you don’t like us, don’t want us here, and want to make our lives miserable.” Blaine chuckled. “Nothing encourages reporting like schadenfreude.”
“That’s true enough, Mr. Blaine,” said Edmonds with a chuckle. “If you need something, Mr. Blaine, tell me, and I’ll get it. Anything. I have a reserve set aside for emergencies. I think three confirmed attacks aimed at the Foresters, not our contracts, but our troopers, qualifies as an emergency.”
“Agreed, Colonel.”
Edmonds opened a drawer. He pulled out a bottle of cask-aged scotch and three glasses. He drew off the cork, and they relished the sound of it popping out of the bottle. He filled the glasses and pushed one over to each of the others before continuing.
“Make no mistake, Graham. We’ll find those bastards. When we do, won’t it be more pleasant to put modern MAC rounds into them instead of the measly 12.7mm HEAT rounds we currently have?”
Russell contemplated the idea. He picked up his glass. “You do have a way with words, Colonel.”
* * * * *
Chapter 6 – Rick Blaine
Library of Congress
Washington, DC
I settled into one of the research nooks and plugged my sweeper into the link. Libraries were so useful. I could search for just about anything, and my search would be hidden in all the other searches routed through here.
At first, I did the normal businessman things. I accepted my incoming emails from Bullitt and other Elite Training employees. They were exactly as they appeared to be, updated contacts and sales prospects. I responded to the emails, then downloaded some updated Tri-V brochures to display.
As a matter of course, I had pulled everything out of the Foresters’ servers while I was there, and it was time to start weeding through their data. Most of it was boring and routine. Fitreps, sitreps, and supply reqs. Nothing jumped out at me.
Until something did.
Was that a Cochkala name? It sure looked like one. What the hell was a Cochkala doing training with the Foresters?
I searched for anything I could find about the Cochkala recruit. I didn’t make the connection to his clan and kin names until I did a GalNet search.
I stared at the results on the screen for a long time.
He was the nephew of Rhan’Tlanit’Tala, the Peacemaker who judged the Foresters at Cimaron 283133-6A. That couldn’t be a coincidence.
I again opened the official file about the events at Cimaron 283133-6A.
Maybe I missed something.
If I’d missed something before, it remained hidden.
So, what did Tlanit find out that he didn’t put into the case report? There had to be something. Why else would Rhan’Kiial’Tala be on Earth?
A thorough GalNet search for Tlanit told me he had been a member of the Wathayat before becoming a Peacemaker. A successful member, too. He amassed a sizable fortune, even by their standards.
Why had he left to become a Peacemaker? Was he simply seeking a new challenge? Or did he leave the Wathayat for some other reason?
I scrolled through his list of Peacemaker cases. It took me several hours to read through the official reports. Nothing seemed extraordinary, not for a Peacemaker. In most cases, he seemed to have irritated all parties involved, which is probably what should happen. Maybe he couldn’t be bribed because of all the money he made before becoming a Peacemaker.
I stretched and pinched my nose. There was something there, but I couldn’t find it.
Anathiola, the Sidar, had brought the case against the Foresters on 283133-6A to the Peacemakers. The mercs had killed all the Sidar on the moon. Having met Edmonds, I doubted the Foresters were cavalier with civilian lives, but I searched through the GalNet to double-check.
The Foresters, like all merc units, had received some complaints in their history. But not many. In truth, they had as clean a work history as any merc company around. And not a single previous complaint involved killing civilians indiscriminately.
Nothing to see there. What happened on that moon?
Anathiola was a confirmed bureaucrat who had spent most of his life in management. I found a whiff of corruption. More than a whiff, really, but compared to other bureaucrats I had seen in the Galactic Union, his corruption was rather pedestrian.
The events on that moon had stalled his career. He now managed a much smaller mining colony. The new job couldn’t have been a promotion. Clearly, he had failed his masters, and the Foresters likely contributed to that failure.
So he had a reason to target the Foresters.
I considered that further. It was possible, but seemed flimsy. Every merc unit from every merc race in the Galactic Union had people unhappy with them. Someone might hate a merc unit, but the Merc Guild frowned on people seeking retribution against units that did their jobs. Anathiola had motive, but his means and opportunity seemed limited. Without completely discounting the possibility, I set him aside for now.
Kukuluki was a different story, given all the connections with the Zuparti I had seen.
I wondered why he hired the Foresters for Cimaron 283133-6A. The Foresters specialized in planetary ecosystems, not lifeless moons. Idly, I glanced at some of the merc companies who offered garrison services. Several of them had platoon-sized units available for contracts at the time Kukuluki hired the Foresters, and they would’ve all charged less than the Queen Elizabeth’s Own.
Who approached who for the Cimaron 283133-6A contract.
Like Anathiola, Kukuluki was another bureaucrat. However, it was clear the Zuparti was far more corrupt than the Sidar. By the time he hired the Foresters, he had already successfully navigated himself into a fairly important place in the Zuparti hierarchy.
But that brought up another question. Why had he been managing that simple mining moon? Platinum, palladium, and rhodium. Useful stuff, but not F11 or red diamonds or anything truly valuable. It seemed like a huge demotion. What did he do to deserve that?
I searched for a specific moment in Zuparti politics that could’ve caused his exile to that particular colony. Unfortunately, the weasel-like creatures had weasel-like politics that seemed convoluted and odd from a Human perspective. Without knowing the ins and outs of Zuparti bureaucracies, I couldn’t properly judge his role. However, he was now an assistant to a member of the Zuparti main council, and that sure looked like a promotion.
Did the Zuparti get what they wanted on that moon? Was it really a demotion, or did he want to go there? Did Kukuluki achieve his goals even though Tlanit judged against the mercs he had hired?
I returned to Tlanit and discovered he had adjudicated two other cases involving Zuparti since judging the Foresters. According to all the records I found, Tlanit hadn’t been involved in a case with the Zuparti before the Cimaron 283133-6A case. It was a small sample of cases, but it sure looked odd to me.
I read through the case file once more. I still couldn’t find anything of note, so I moved on to the Zuul. The Zuul detachment had been essentially the same size as the platoon sent by the Foresters. A Rei’shin Khistoln had commanded them. I tried to look through her career.
There wasn’t much on Earth’s GalNet. I shouldn’t have been surprised. The damn Zuul were as tight as anyone.
I stretched again. It was time to look at Peninnah and the Hilden.
The Hilden joined the Galactic Union about three hundred years ago. However, as a non-merc race, few had noticed their entry into the Union and even fewer cared. The Hilden were reticent by nature, so that suited them.
But Peninnah had been a problem for about eighty years. They had owned the planet for almost two centuries without anyone contesting it. It had high amounts of iron, titanium, and aluminum. Nothing terribly valuable, but the Hilden home system had no asteroid belt and held fewer of those resources than most systems. The Hilden were a race of smiths and metalworkers, and they needed Peninnah’s resources badly.
There seemed to be no reason for the Zuparti to value the planet. They could obtain those resources easier on countless airless moons and asteroids in systems they controlled completely. As far as anyone knew, the Peninnah system had no F11 or any other highly sought after resources. Yet, for whatever reason, the Zuparti had pushed the Hilden into granting them mining rights to one of the planet’s continents.
Why?
I had no answer. The Zuparti had continued to pressure the Hilden after obtaining those rights. Some sixty years ago, accidents in the mines on the Hilden-controlled continent had suddenly spiked. It seemed likely the Zuparti had been behind the ‘accidents,’ but no one ever proved that. Then the Hilden hired the Foresters and the accidents evened off to levels consistent with those prior to the Zuparti arrival.
Why do the Zuparti care about Peninnah and Cimaron 283133-6A? They seem to be small potatoes for a race as powerful as they are.
The Hilden came from Hild, which was in the Coro region of our arm of the galaxy. Peninnah was close to it. Maquon was near the border of the Cresht and Coro regions, about halfway between Sol and Peninnah. Maquon made perfect astrographic sense for the Foresters.
But those planets weren’t close to the Zuparti homeworld. Nor, really, was Cimaron 283133, a system so unimportant, it was still known by its initial catalog number. There was no obvious astrographic reason for the Zuparti to fight for complete ownership of either location. Especially since their efforts ultimately made the Peacemakers take notice. Using mercs was one thing, but Peacemakers? Nobody really wanted to deal with them.
The newest download from the Foresters popped up on my screen. I ignored the routine list of program issues and set the decryption software to hunt for the hidden bits that might be there.
There was a message from Edmonds.
I waited while the program picked out the sequence and re-assembled the pieces of the message.
Blaine, Tlanit data coming in dribbles. He says he can’t risk a major data transfer through GalNet. Su
ggests we look at Cartography Guild data, especially finances, in last two years. Six-Alfa no accident or mistake.
I quickly found the data wonderland Tlanit sent me to discover. The GalNet listed no less than two hundred infrastructure improvement projects initiated by the Cartography Guild since Tlanit’s judgement on Cimaron 283133. Few had noticed because the Cartographers had spread the wealth across the galaxy.
Smart of them, given the way the guilds competed. The Cartography Guild had a new source of wealth they didn’t want anyone to know about.
Anathiola’s business ventures had become flush about the same time. When I looked, I found some Zuparti firms that had made a few interesting investments recently. Their stocks had risen on the Galactic markets, and after a fairly quick search, I found the reason. Red diamonds had fallen off lately. Not much, but enough to suggest that someone had tapped a new market.
And that’s why Tlanit had judged as he had.
This information patched the biggest hole in the events of Cimaron 283133-6A, but I suspected there was more. I started to look when my sweeper buzzed.
“Goddamn you, Rick!”
“Hello, boss. How are things?”
“I’ve spent the past few days covering for your fucking stupidity in Houston! I see you’re in the Library of Congress, so get your ass into the office right the fuck now!”
“Planning on firing me?” I asked mildly.
“Damn right I am.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Without hurrying, I ran my special zero emissions subroutine on my sweeper and shut it off completely. I stepped out of the nook, strode out of the front door of the library, and climbed into the first cab I could find.
I rolled down the window to ensure I could get air if the cabbie decided to gas me. I also kept my hand on my GP-90. I got out at the Lincoln Memorial, paid with cash, and moved to another cab.
I suddenly realized my sweeper had turned itself back on, which I thought was impossible. Then it started running some sort of routine I had never seen before, followed by whiffs of smoke coming out of it. It startled me so much, I almost dropped the device. Then it rebooted.
