by Eric Thomson
Talyn scoffed.
“I’m sure your mother, who believes in constitutional government of the people, for the people and by the people is proud of her only daughter.”
“My mother can go to hell. She’s part of the problem and her day of reckoning will come, you can count on that. My failure here won’t stop our movement. We will restore a united Commonwealth, governed by a strong Earth and capable of seizing the galaxy.”
“I can think of several non-human polities who would object to our seizing their part of the galaxy.”
“Too bad. The progress we champion will spread throughout the Commonwealth and beyond. We will crush those who oppose us, including useless uniformed parasites like you.”
Decker studied her as if she were a strange specimen.
“Did the good senator drop you on the head as a baby? Because what passes for your brain sure seems damaged.”
Annear’s face tightened at the insult.
“Can we end this persiflage? You still didn’t answer my question. What do you want? Do you expect me to tell you everything about our movement and its grand plan?”
Talyn raised her blaster and pointed it at Magda’s forehead.
“No Sera Annear, we expect you to die for your movement and its grand plan.”
A panicked expression wiped away her earlier anger. She gave Decker a beseeching look.
“Surely you wouldn’t let her kill your lost love’s only half-sister? Am I not the closest thing to Avril’s twin?”
“You’re nothing like her,” he growled. “She would never think of using and discarding human beings in pursuit of personal ambition and illegitimate political power, let alone committing mass murder. Of the two sisters, she was the sane, humane, and admirable one. You’re only a sad, evil, shriveled soul, using the misguided ideals of naïve radicals for your own purposes. But thanks for trying to cheapen her memory in an attempt to save your worthless life. Goodbye, Magda.”
Talyn’s weapon coughed once, spitting out a small, fiery ball of plasma. The bridge of Annear’s nose vanished, replaced by a smoking black hole while the back of her skull erupted with flash broiled brain matter.
“Shame about the upholstery, but if Senator Annear had smothered her daughter at birth, a few thousand people would still be alive.”
They left the small spacecraft’s door open and walked through the late evening shadows to the spaceport’s nearby naval section where an unmarked shuttle from Mikado waited.
“I never asked, but what was your plan if Joubert didn’t turn on my communicator, thereby allowing Caelin and Sergeant Bonta to find us? Was there even a plan or were you improvising from minute to minute?”
Decker nudged her.
“Watch me.”
He convulsed while white foam appeared in the corners of his mouth.
“You would have feigned a seizure? Seriously? That’s one of the oldest and lamest tricks in the book.”
“Our book, maybe. However, Joubert’s a bureaucrat. He was probably a decent cop years ago, but no longer has the reflexes of someone dealing with tricky customers on a regular basis. I merely needed to wait until the right moment.”
“And the CimmerTek man?”
“Joubert’s big enough to make an excellent human shield, and while the goon had his eyes glued on me wondering what the hell was happening, you would have been able to take him.”
“I’m touched by your trust in my abilities.”
“It ain’t so much a matter of trust but experience, sweetheart,” he drawled. “I’ve seen you kill often enough. Do you intend to call the cops and let them know about Magda?”
“I should, otherwise the maintenance crew will get a nasty surprise in the morning.”
Talyn sent one last anonymous message to Sergeant Bonta, informing her where Magda Annear’s body could be found, then they climbed aboard and lifted off, the Democratic Stars Alliance and its leader gone forever.
“I’m glad this one is over,” she said once the lights of Howard’s Landing disappeared beneath the clouds.
“It’s not over just yet, my dear.” Decker patted her hand. “We still need to return the remaining MHX.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s wait until we’re aboard to discuss it.”
— Forty-Six —
Zack climbed out of the shuttle and stretched with contentment while he watched the flight of gunships carrying G Troop, Number 6 Company, land on the hangar deck, their work retrieving every last MHX-19 explosive device completed. They were the last of the anti-terrorism teams to rejoin the Q-ship.
“Welcome aboard Mikado, Colonel Decker.” A stocky, silver-haired man in Navy battle dress with the three gold stripes of a commander on his collar stood on the yellow safety line beyond the shuttle’s nose. “I’m Sandor Piech.”
“A pleasure to be here, Skipper, but it’s major.”
“Not anymore. Orders caught up with us thirty minutes ago. You’ve been a lieutenant colonel for the last week. Congratulations.”
“Congratulations for what?” Talyn asked as she joined her partner.
“It looks like the Commandant finally lost his ever-loving mind. I’m a lieutenant colonel.”
Talyn let out an exaggerated sigh of relief.
“Excellent. Now I can dump the burden of command officially into your lap. No more standing at attention in front of the commodore to explain why my subordinate once again disregarded rules, regulations, and protocols. When he didn’t blatantly violate Commonwealth and star system laws. The next time you dream up a harebrained scheme, we will switch places, and you can plead for the commodore’s mercy.” She winked at Piech. “Zack’s not exactly a standard-issue intelligence operative. How are you, Sandor?”
“Enjoying every minute in command of this beauty. And you?”
“Since I survived another of Zack’s sure-fire plans, I can’t really complain.”
“What did you want?” The Marine growled. “We saved hundreds of lives, recovered the remaining MHX, and put the Democratic Stars Alliance permanently out of business. Our work in this system is done.”
Something in the way he said ‘this system’ gave her pause, and she eyed him with suspicion.
“What outrageous scheme is fermenting in your brain this time?”
He jerked a thumb at the gunships.
“A few dozen kilos of the Mayhem we recovered needs to be wrapped in gift paper then topped with a nice pink bow and stamped with a big red label that reads return to sender. Remember when I said the only way to stop this sort of crap is by inflicting so much pain on the bastards they’ll flinch every time someone comes up with a new plot. Killing Sorne, Hakkam, and the ever so lovely Magda was only the beginning. It cleaned up this sector. Or at least the Cimmeria system. The Commonwealth has five more sectors, and that means we cut it off at the very top. We’re taking Mikado to Pacifica, and I’ll hand deliver our gift to the head skunk himself.”
“Blowing up the ComCorp tower in downtown Hadley isn’t a good idea. Most of the people working there don’t know what their top boss is doing.”
A wicked grin split Zack’s face.
“Didn’t I read somewhere the Amalis rebuilt their island getaway after our last visit, but newer, better and bigger than before? Possibly even made it the Coalition’s unofficial headquarters? Perhaps if I sanitize the place with Mayhem, they’ll stop rebuilding.”
“It’s a lengthy trip, even at top speed,” Piech replied in a dubious tone.
“I know. But the real question is do your orders allow you to sail that far without asking HQ for permission?”
“Zack, are you considering an unauthorized operation on Pacifica?” Talyn gave her partner a hard look.
“Do you think the commodore would let me set off approximately fifty kilograms of MHX on another inhabited planet after what happened here?”
“Ulrich? If it’s in a good cause, perhaps. Kruczek? Not without Ulrich twisting his arm, and then it’s on
ly a one in ten chance he says yes.”
“There you go. This is one of those times where we ask forgiveness instead of permission. And if you turn over command of our team to me, I’ll assume full responsibility.”
When she didn’t immediately reply, he added, “You know we eventually have to take this fight to the Home Sector. Now is as good a time as any. How many thousands did Magda’s DSA maniacs kill? We’re damn lucky the death toll didn’t climb into the hundreds of thousands, but it will if we don’t smack the Coalition’s top leadership harder than ever.”
Talyn glanced at Piech.
“Opinions, Sandor? It may be our operation, but this is your ship. If you say no, we’re returning to Caledonia, it’ll be the last we hear of Zack’s notion.”
“My orders are to help you eliminate any threat you designate, the same orders SOCOM gave Number 6 Company.”
“In that case, I name the Coalition leaders on Pacifica a clear and present danger to the Commonwealth,” Decker intoned while his eyes challenged Talyn to contradict him.
When she didn’t say a word, Piech shrugged. “Then I guess we’re off to Pacifica, Earth’s uglier, nastier, and more corrupt sibling.”
Decker clapped him on the shoulder.
“That’s what I wanted to hear. Let me give Henrik the good news.”
“I’m sure he’ll love the idea of spending a few more weeks in Mikado,” Talyn replied with a wry smile. “Especially if you intend to do what I think and make a solo jump on Amali’s island.”
“He and his company just enjoyed three thoroughly exciting days hunting real live terrorists, something they don’t often do. They shouldn’t mind a relaxing pleasure cruise on a fine ship such as this one.”
“I’m not sure I like the idea of a solo jump, Zack.”
“Yet it’s the only way to go. Plausible deniability. One shuttle and one jumper will not only have a better chance to get in and out unnoticed, but if our bosses vehemently object after the fact, Boldt’s company will be in the clear. Besides, I’m sure both the commodore and Admiral Kruczek will approve of us limiting the number of participants in a totally unauthorized and illegal operation. And if we time it right, I could be jumping in on our anniversary.”
Piech gave him a strange look.
“I first met Hera when she rescued me from Amali’s private island after almost getting me killed thanks to her not particularly surefire spook plan.”
“He was quite a bedraggled, waterlogged, and pitiful escapee.”
“Who resented her for a long time, even after being drafted into the Black Gang.”
Talyn nudged him.
“Enough of the auld lang syne, Colonel Decker. Henrik is looking in our direction, probably hoping for words of wisdom from the senior Marine Corps officer aboard. Or maybe a hint of what his future holds.”
“Right. If you two fine naval officers will excuse me.”
Decker crossed the hangar where Major Henrik Boldt was speaking with G Troop’s leader. Both snapped to attention at his approach and saluted even though Zack wasn’t in uniform. He returned the compliment with a formal nod.
“Gentlemen.”
“Congratulations on your promotion, Colonel.”
“Don’t you mean congratulations on offering to subsidize Number 6 Company’s party tonight as a way of wetting my new rank?” Decker winked at the troop leader, a command sergeant who could claim almost as many combat jumps as Zack.
“Am I that transparent, sir?” Boldt asked with a sly grin.
“When it comes to free drinks, every jumper created by God and the Pathfinder School is as transparent as glass. Are these fine young men and women the last to board?”
“Yes, sir. What happens now?”
“Did you ever visit the Home Sector’s priceless progressive jewel, an open sewer by the name Pacifica?”
Boldt made a face.
“No, and for that, I give thanks to the Almighty. I met enough Marines who enlisted to escape the place, and they taught me the wisdom of avoidance.”
“I have, several times. One of my visits almost ended with me turning into bug food. Ask me about it in the wardroom during our upcoming trip to the dark heart of the Home Sector. We’re returning the Mayhem you collected to the people who stole it from our ammo dumps. I figure blowing their asses into orbit for messing with Cimmeria will be an object lesson they won’t soon forget.”
“May I assume this will be in an unapproved and unauthorized operation, sir?”
“The blackest of black ops, Henrik, lex talionis on a scale big enough to make the opposition think twice about trying again. And once we’ve delivered our message, it becomes another of those missions we never speak of again. Your unit diary will show nothing more than a few weeks spent training aboard the Q-ship Mikado.”
“Understood, Colonel.”
Decker clapped him on the shoulder.
“Good man. We can discuss the details once we’re in interstellar space. After the last few days, I need a cold beer and a warm bunk.”
— Forty-Seven —
Decker’s feet touched the black sand beach where Talyn had saved him from certain death years ago. He took several steps to absorb his remaining forward momentum and then slapped the controls to retract his kite parachute back into its hard shell.
Though the sun had already set over this part of Pacifica, Decker easily recognized the spot where he almost made a last, defiant stand against Walker Amali’s giant, semi-sapient insectoid soldiers, terrifying creatures capable of tearing a human being apart.
Decker made his way to the tree line where he stepped out of the chute harness after dropping his rucksack and carbine. The chute assembly vanished into a thicket of the thorny native bush he remembered only too well from his first visit where it would escape notice from any roving patrols Amali might use to secure his private island’s northern shore. The equipment was unmarked, so even if it survived the explosion, no one could prove the Fleet was involved.
He swung his heavy rucksack, with its fifty kilos of MHX-19 and a detonator far more reliable than the ones used by Annear’s DSA terrorists, over his shoulders, picked up the carbine and oriented himself. The day he had spent evading Amali’s insectoids was indelibly burned into his memory. It meant finding the way across to the southern shore, even in the dark, would be easy. Then, he headed off at an easy lope, thanks to his battle armor’s mobility enhancements.
Using the edge of a streambed and various animal trails, Decker reached the ridge running from hill to hill at the island’s center in just over an hour. There, he found a familiar boulder arrangement and, more importantly, a hidden vantage point from which he could study the entire resort.
The Amalis didn’t just rebuild their island getaway after the 251st Pathfinder Squadron’s Warthog gunships flattened every last building all those years ago. They considerably enlarged it, turning what was once a quiet family retreat into a sprawling, albeit tiny city reserved for the obscenely wealthy. Glass and steel spires competed with marble-clad mansions while a vast reception hall and extensive recreational facilities lined the shore.
Decker could make out hundreds of men and women strolling along beautifully manicured paths under the soft light of glow globes. Others, clustered in groups, were talking, laughing, and drinking from sparkling crystal glasses dispensed by a battalion of service droids. He recognized many faces from the files Naval Intelligence kept on suspected Coalition leaders, including the thuggish features of the Sécurité Spéciale’s director general.
Perhaps Amali was hosting his version of the Locarno Conference, or more likely, an emergency meeting following the disastrous failure of the DSA scheme on Cimmeria and in the broader Rim Sector. The news would have reached Pacifica long before Mikado, now in orbit disguised as the freighter Boudjankar, dropped out of FTL at the Pacifica system’s heliopause.
Or it could merely be another Saturday night for the rich and powerful on the first extrasolar world settled by humani
ty centuries earlier. Neither Decker nor Talyn counted on Sadoc Amali himself being present tonight. They designed this operation as a warning shot using the last of the purloined MHX.
But seeing so many of the enemy’s senior leadership on display would make this all the sweeter. He recorded the scene for posterity and Commodore Ulrich’s forgiveness before searching for the spot he’d selected based on Mikado’s orbital scans and his recollections of the island. It was far enough from the glittering spires to be well outside any immediate security perimeter, yet close enough to make sure Amali’s resort vanished, Atlantis-like, beneath the waves.
When Decker found it, he took a last look at the party then slipped back into the woods, unseen, and unheard. The final two kilometers downhill took him longer than the entire trip from the northern shore to the ridge, primarily because of his increased caution and more frequent checks for nearby surveillance sensors. He finally reached flat ground and made his way toward a low cliff where he hoped to find a suitable fissure or even a shallow cavern to place the bomb.
This close to the resort, he could hear the soft murmur of voices, an occasional tinkle of laughter and even background music. Sounds that turned the silent enemy faces he’d observed from his previous perch into something more human and reminded him not everyone about to die was guilty of capital crimes. Perhaps not even most.
But then, the thirty-five hundred who perished in Silfax had been wholly innocent, as most of the Coalition’s future victims would be. The merriment reaching his ears came from those who started this war and would keep stoking it with a growing tally of civilian casualties if no one stopped them. Decker, coarsened by years of undercover battle, hardened his heart and tuned out the noise. There was no way to sort the good from the bad this time. It would be a night for retribution, not sentimentality. Lex talionis.
He found a crack in the basalt large enough to hide the bomb and removed his rucksack. He knelt, opened the pack, and removed the padding that covered the detonator. A last, lengthy check proved it was functional and none of the connections had been disturbed during the shuttle’s launch from Mikado’s hangar deck, its long glide around Pacifica, and his jump from ultra-high altitude. Decker set the timer, carefully jammed his pack into the fissure, and armed the anti-tamper and anti-lift devices.
