by Piers Platt
“Now: let’s concentrate on finding those spies, Captain,” Vence told him.
“You’ll kill me if I don’t?” Shinoda asked, regaining some of his former defiance.
“No,” Vence said. “I won’t need to. I’ll just send a message to Counter-Intelligence. A video of our first meeting, and the files you sent me.”
Shinoda’s face paled again, and he turned to the computer screen, and began typing quickly.
* * *
Vence parked her van outside the motel, leaving it running while she studied the building carefully. Through her internal computer, she checked the early warning sensors each in turn, to ensure that none had raised the alarm while she had been gone. It appeared as though a small animal had tripped one of the motion detectors earlier in the evening, but otherwise they remained undisturbed.
>>>This is Vence. I’m outside, she sent to the other three team members. All clear?
>>>All clear.
>>>Grab your gear, Vence told them. We need to move.
None of them questioned her – all three were outside in under a minute, carrying their Forges and what food remained from Paisen’s shopping trip the day prior. They climbed into the van silently, and Vence pulled away, accelerating and then gaining altitude before setting a new course.
“Where’d you get the new wheels?” Wick asked.
“The van? Stole it,” Vence told him. “I dumped the car, we’re going to need something bigger.”
“Are we compromised?” Paisen asked.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Vence said. “But we’re on the clock.”
“Did you find the others?” Rika asked.
“Yeah,” Vence said.
“All of them?” Paisen asked.
“Uh huh,” Vence said. “The other seven are all alive.”
“Thank god,” Paisen breathed. “Where?”
“They’re being held in that death camp Tepper found last month,” Vence said.
“Shit,” Rika observed. “That place looked like a fucking nightmare to get in and out of.”
“Well, we need to figure it out, and fast,” Vence said. “Yesterday they put all seven of them in front of a military court on espionage charges, and held a bullshit trial. One guess what the verdict was.”
“Guilty,” Paisen said.
“Yeah,” Vence agreed. “They were all sentenced to death. They’re facing a firing squad at dawn tomorrow.”
“Hence the urgency,” Rika said.
“Right,” Vence agreed. “Apparently they tied all seven of them to stakes in the middle of the camp’s parade ground for the night, so they’re ready for the execution in the morning. Oh, and the Jokuans know they didn’t capture all of us,” Vence added. “They know there were twelve members of the team, and they’re counting on the rest of us to make some kind of rescue attempt.”
“So it’s a trap?” Paisen asked.
“Yup,” Vence agreed. “That’s why they stopped searching for us out in the training areas. They pulled their forces back, and stationed them inside the death camp. There’s an entire infantry battalion waiting for us.”
“Fuck,” Rika observed.
“What are our rules of engagement?” Vence asked.
“No killing,” Paisen said. “Until we know for sure what’s going on with the Senate Committee, we’ll continue to play by their rules. But I’m not reporting anything to them until we’ve sorted all of this out.”
The three contractors contemplated that in silence. “This should be interesting,” Vence observed.
“What’s our ETA at the camp?” Paisen asked.
“About two hours,” Vence said, glancing at the van’s navigation system.
“Okay,” Paisen said, checking her watch. “That means when we arrive, we’ll have less than three hours to get in, locate the team, and get them out.”
“Mission planning?” Wick asked.
“Yeah,” Paisen agreed. “And get your Forges out. We’re gonna need some hardware.”
16
Rath reached out for the conference room door switch, and then paused. He looked at Jaymy, standing next to him.
“You’re sure?” he asked her.
“Never been less sure about anything in my life,” she told him. But she leaned across and pressed the switch. The door slid open, revealing Ricken and his six council members eating breakfast around the conference room table.
“Good morning,” Ricken said, looking up expectantly as the two of them approached the table. “Did you sleep well?”
“No,” Rath said. “Not particularly.”
“Same as ever, then,” Ricken said.
“Yeah.”
“Have you come to a decision?” Ricken asked.
Rath looked at Jaymy, and then nodded. “I’m in,” he said.
Ricken stood and clapped his hands together once, flashing Rath a brilliant smile.
“… with two conditions,” Rath finished.
“Which are …?” Ricken asked.
“First: Jaymy stays, too.”
“A package deal, eh?” Ricken asked. “That’s fine. An outfit like ours never turns down the help of trained medical personnel.”
“Second,” Rath continued, “if there’s something in your plan I don’t like, I want it changed.”
Ricken pursed his lips. “We can certainly discuss revisions,” he said. “I can’t guarantee we’ll agree on them, but I’m always open to improving an operational plan. And I’m confident you won’t find fault in what we have already.” He reached out a hand. “I’m glad to have you on board. We’re going to change the world.”
Rath shook his hand, and then Jaymy did, too.
“We’re just finishing up, but please, get some breakfast.” Ricken indicated several trays of food laid out on a side counter. “My staff officers can brief you on the plan as you eat.”
Rath let Jaymy fill her plate first, while he poured both of them mugs of coffee. Then they sat at the table. After a steady diet of prison food, Rath was glad to tuck into something more substantial. Ricken introduced his staff members again for Jaymy’s benefit, and Rath studied them in turn.
They don’t like that we’ve joined the party, Rath observed, chewing a bite of food. They don’t trust us yet.
“Operations,” Ricken said, pointing at Lonergan. “Your show.”
Lonergan leaned over the conference table controls for a minute, and then a hologram appeared in the air above them, showing a device schematic that Rath recognized immediately.
“Where did you get that?” he asked.
Lonergan looked up. “We purchased the plans to it from a third party,” he said, frowning. “You know what it is?”
“Yeah,” Rath said, scowling. “It’s a high energy teleportation device. You bought those plans from Paisen Oryx, my friend.”
“It’s a small galaxy,” Ricken mused.
“Are you planning to blow something up?” Rath asked.
“The plan hinges on the threat of force,” Lonergan told him.
“The threat of force,” Ricken stressed. “We’ll demonstrate the device in a harmless, but public way, and then threaten to use it for real. But that threat is a bluff – I have no intention of harming anyone with this device. It’s just a tool for exerting control.”
Rath cocked an eyebrow, but remained silent.
“We’ll be borrowing a shuttle from a third party, at our next destination. That shuttle, carrying the high energy prototype, will fly to Anchorpoint,” Lonergan continued. “We’ve acquired three tickets to the annual State of the Federacy Address.”
On the hologram projector, a facsimile of the main Senate chamber appeared, with tiers of seats facing the speaker’s podium at the front, and a spectator’s balcony at the back.
“By tradition,” Lonergan said, “all senators will be in attendance, to hear the Senate Speaker’s goals for the coming year. Anders and two of us will also attend the Address under assumed identities.”
&n
bsp; “We’ll need your help getting in, Rath,” Ricken interjected. “The Senate Guards run DNA checks on all attendees as part of security screening.”
Rath shrugged. “Those can be defeated. So can any other biometric scans they run. There’s a risk, but with preparation, it’s minimal.”
“Anders will interrupt the State of the Federacy Address at the appointed time, and demonstrate the power of the high energy device – something small, but enough to get everyone’s attention, without causing any harm. He’ll announce that all of the water bottles in the room have been similarly treated, and are ready to explode on command.”
“Will they actually be treated?” Rath asked.
“No,” Ricken said. “It’s just a bluff. We’ll release the other spectators at that point.”
“Yes, sir,” Lonergan confirmed. “But the senators stay.”
“They stay, and resign their offices publicly, one by one, for all the galaxy to see,” Ricken said. “And then I call for new elections to be held.”
“Correct,” Lonergan agreed. “The former senators stay in place, still under threat from the device, and you exit the Senate chamber at that point. You’ll return to the shuttle, which will go to FTL and rejoin us. That concludes main operations on Anchorpoint.”
“You’re just going to leave?” Rath asked. “Once the shuttle is gone, the Senate’s no longer under threat. Won’t the senators just take control again?”
“No,” Lonergan said. “They won’t be able to.”
“Why not?” Rath asked.
Ricken turned to him. “Because that’s not the only high energy weapon we’re building,” he said.
Lonergan nodded, and the hologram changed again, this time showing what Rath surmised was an orbital drone of some type.
“In addition to operations on Anchorpoint, we’ll be simultaneously deploying drones into orbit over every planet with Senate representation in the Federacy. Each drone will have a built-in high energy device, and the capability to launch energy-charged kinetic darts at surface targets. When Anders makes his announcement at the State of the Federacy Address, we’ll conduct a demonstration of the drones’ capabilities on one planet. Again, no one will be harmed – we’re merely showing the galaxy that we have the ability to inflict massive casualties.”
“How many of these things did you build?” Rath asked, incredulous.
“Several thousand,” Ricken said. He gave a wry smile. “It took most of our funds to do so.”
“How do you control the drones?” Rath asked.
“From right here on the Rampart Guardian, which will be located over one of the planets,” Lonergan replied. “We’ll use interstellar communication links to maintain remote control of all of the drones. It’s essential that the Guardian and its location remain a secret throughout the operation, otherwise the Interstellar Police will undoubtedly attempt to seize the ship from us.”
“Who commands the Guardian?” Rath asked.
“Me,” Lonergan replied. “Until Anders returns from his part of the operation on Anchorpoint.”
Rath studied the drone diagram on the hologram. “So you’re basically holding a gun to the head of the entire galaxy.”
“That’s the idea,” Ricken agreed. “Put every planet under threat, force the Senate to abdicate, and put a new system into place.”
“What about the Interstellar Police?” Rath asked.
“The high energy devices will keep them at bay, too. If they try to interfere with the elections, or tamper with any of the drones, we’ll threaten to launch attacks on major population centers.”
“But you won’t actually do it,” Rath prompted.
“No,” Ricken agreed. “If they call our bluff, we’ll have to back down. But given my reputation, I think they’re likely to take the threat very seriously. And knowing how Interstellar Police command works, no one at Headquarters is going to risk making a decision that could lead to millions of deaths.”
“What if the police are able to capture Ricken on Anchorpoint?” Rath asked Lonergan. “What would you do?”
Lonergan frowned, and then shrugged. “Regroup with anyone that’s left. Plan a mission to get him out.”
“You wouldn’t launch the PKDs in retaliation?” Rath asked.
“No,” Lonergan said. “I wouldn’t launch them for any reason.”
The room was silent for a moment. Ricken studied Rath. “You’re worried about the PKDs,” he observed.
“Yeah,” Rath said. “It scares me to put that kind of weapon into play.”
“We’ll have safeguards,” Ricken assured him. “Lonergan won’t be capable of launching them alone – it will take two people to initiate any strike.”
“Why not just put the drones in orbit without the high energy devices installed? Who would know?” Rath asked.
“We need to demonstrate the weapons first,” Ricken pointed out. “They have to be functional.”
Rath sighed. “It’s dangerous.”
“We have to take some risk,” Ricken said.
Rath chewed his lip, and then shook his head. “I still don’t like it. But what happens next in the plan?”
“Elections,” Lonergan said. “We’ll leverage the existing voting systems on each planet, but anyone can declare their candidacy by filling out a short questionnaire on their political positions and then submitting a video online stating their qualifications. No fund-raising, no campaigning, no advertising. After two weeks, we’ll hold the online primary, then the final candidates coming out of that will have a public debate, and the winner will be determined through another election.”
“Fair, open, and honest. A true popular vote,” Ricken added. “Once the elections are over, the new senators report to Anchorpoint and are sworn in, and the Federacy is given a new lease on life. And we all disappear back into the cold depths of space. Or wherever you choose to go at that point, Rath.”
“Where is Rath in all of this?” Jaymy asked, waving a hand at the schematics on the hologram projector. “Why do you even need him?”
“He’ll be here on the Guardian,” Ricken told her. He turned to Rath. “You and Lonergan will be the two people who, jointly, can authorize the drone strikes. You’ll fire the demonstration rounds, and as soon as the elections are over, you two will ensure all of the drones are destroyed.”
“We’ll simply detonate the remaining PKDs without launching them,” Lonergan told Rath. “They’re basically a built-in self-destruct mechanism.”
“Now do you feel more comfortable with the drones?” Ricken asked.
Rath nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Good,” Ricken said. “I thought you might. Now, your role during the operation is important, but I really need your assistance with something else entirely. Before we even begin the operation.” Ricken looked at Lonergan.
The old man nodded. “The success of the plan hinges on whether or not the people respond to our call to action,” he said. “If we call for new elections, and no serious candidates come forward, or if no one goes online to vote for them in the primary, this whole thing comes crashing down. It’s the only element we can’t really control.”
“Yeah, generally asking the Internet to nominate and vote on something doesn’t end well,” Rath agreed. “They’ll elect some kids’ TV show character as a joke.”
“So how do we ensure legitimate candidates get elected?” Ricken asked, rhetorically. “Without tampering with or interfering in the process?”
Rath shrugged. “You got me.”
“You’re not suggesting Rath runs for Senate, are you?” Jaymy asked.
“No,” Ricken said. “No offense, but you’re a convicted felon.”
“None taken,” Rath said.
“No, I don’t want you to run for office, Rath,” Ricken explained. “I need your help convincing the right people to run. We only need one planet to set the example. If one planet treats it seriously, it legitimizes the whole election, and the others will follow. You an
d I, together, will talk to community leaders on that planet ahead of time, so that when the election comes, they’re ready for it.”
“Again, why would they listen to me?” Rath asked.
“Because I think the right people will understand that you’re not to blame for what you did. They’ll see that you’re a by-product of the inequalities in the system. You’re a proxy for every under-privileged youth that didn’t get the chances in life that they deserved.”
Ricken looked over at Lonergan, who tapped a key on the table’s control pad. The hologram over the table shifted into a planet that Rath knew well.
“And they’ll listen to you because we’re going to start this revolution on your home planet. Tarkis.”
17
Dasi took her seat next to Turpin, tucking her dress close around her legs. The church’s sanctuary was no less impressive on second viewing, and she gazed up again at the great stalactites above, noting how the natural rock formations blended seamlessly into the construction of the church.
“Are you looking forward to it?” Turpin asked her, with a knowing smile.
“Yes,” Dasi lied. After coming down from the initial high from her first visit, she had caught herself dreaming about the lifewater several times over the past few days. The realization that the substance was already generating chemical cravings made her skin crawl.
“I always feel like a new man after coming here,” Turpin said. He patted her on the shoulder. “I was wrong about you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was worried, when we first started dating, that you had been tainted. You’ve been to college, had a job … most women with that kind of experience can’t appreciate what the Church has to offer. They’ve been poisoned to think the old ways are sexist – that they can never be happy living under a man’s protection, and serving him in return.”
Dasi was saved from having to reply by a loud chime, announcing the ceremony was about to begin. She merely smiled at him, and turned to face the altar. As she listened to the priest welcome them, her hand fell to her hip, where she had paid a tailor to sew a small pocket into the inside of her dress. She pressed her hand against the pocket, and felt the outline of the sample vial Lefev had given her.
