Do No Harm

by Chris Kennedy

  “Anyway,” Nunzio continued, “this donna tore into a crowd in front of the Goldenes Dachl—Emperor Maximillian’s golden-roofed balcony—in the old city district of Innsbrück. She killed two and injured a dozen more, all with her bare hands, before the Bundespolizei took her down. They didn’t kill her, but she died within minutes. The medical examiner said it looked like a massive epileptic seizure involving her limbic system.”

  “I can see how a limbic seizure could cause rage,” Ray said. At Jackson and Ferrari’s blank looks, he continued, “The limbic system is involved in fight-or-flight reactions. The amygdala and hippocampus are involved in experiencing and remembering emotion. Abnormal activity often manifests as rage.” He turned back to Nunzio. “That doesn’t necessarily make it evidence of Mengele’s presence.”

  “No, but she was a former merc and she had a pinplant. Doc said it looked like the pinplant had exploded, searing her amy—amo—what you said.”

  “Amygdala. Yes, that sounds like Mengele,” agreed Ray. “Okay, we start in Innsbrück, then.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Transportation?” Ray asked the merc leaders once Nunzio had left with the promise to keep Ray’s grandson out of trouble.

  “The maglev runs from Naples to Rome, and select trains even go as far as Zurich. From there, the Vienna line runs down the Tyrolean valleys and will take us directly to Innsbrück. It is the shortest Alpine crossing, but we will have to transfer in Schweiz. The Swiss are sensitive about transferring merc equipment ever since their own national unit defected,” Ferrari said. “It’s a more difficult alpine crossing, but I recommend transferring in Florence to the Munich maglev. It will take us close enough to Innsbrück and the transfer is still within Italia. We have some specialty maglev cars for the men and gear that can be added onto the trains.”

  “And those?” Jackson pointed over his shoulder at the container where two of his squad were performing maintenance on a pair of Mk 7 CASPers.

  Ferrari smiled, and nodded in the direction of a sleek cargo pod with one of his men standing guard. “We have a couple of our own. We will also cross-check each other’s readiness, no?”

  “Okay, that is taken care of. Now, how quickly can we move out?”

  “The trucks can transport the containers, and we will use a bus disguised as Napoli Transit for the men.” Ferrari checked his watch. “We can have our specialty cars loaded and attached to the midnight maglev. It’s two hours to Florence, which allows us to make the transfer under darkness as well. We can be outside Innsbrück just before dawn.”

  Jackson nodded. “Shirley and Katie might take exception to being called men.” “Canny” Kunz was one of his CASPer drivers, and “Mama” Andalusia was an old friend and drop-ship pilot whose opportunity to get her second set of pinplants and rejoin her unit—the famed Winged Hussars—had been interrupted by Peepo’s arrival. Jackson had brought her along for intel analysis and in case they had an opportunity—and need—for air support.

  “No more so than Lee and Alexandra,” Ferrari chuckled. “We have two hours to get loaded. Gentlemen.” He nodded at Jackson, then paused when he looked at Ray.

  “Gentlemen will do,” said Ray. “Let’s get moving.”

  “Deeno, Canny, Ringer! Check the hold-downs and get those buttoned up. Kaiju”—Jackson motioned toward the oberstabsgefreiter, corporal—“get ready to move out.” The Italian leader turned to leave and get his own squad ready, but Jackson motioned for him to stay. “One last thing—” he turned to Ray “—operational command?”

  “Lieutenant Ferrari is the officer…” Ray began but was stopped by the SI leader.

  “We are but an informal, private militia. We have authority in Mister Gamboa’s region and the Italian government accords us merc status, but we do not have the Rächer’s experience.”

  “Very well. Oh, hell, the Peacemakers are going to have my tentacles for this, but—record this: I, Harryhausen Azure, known as Ray, do hereby revoke my resignation from the Peacemaker Guild and reactivate my commission as of this date. I recognize that I am participating in unsanctioned activity but believe it to be of the utmost importance and within the aim and scope of Peacemaker service. I hereby deputize Gerhardt Jackson to the Peacemaker Guild and brevet him to mercenary captain in service to the Guild. Okay, you can stop the recording. With the understanding the Guild may disavow all of this, Captain, the troops are yours.”

  Jackson stood for a moment, then shook his head. “Scheiss. I did not need that but as you say, we need to be moving. Is it legal? As I understand it, you’re not an Enforcer, just an investigator.”

  “It does not matter to you. You have been given orders by an individual with Peacemaker credentials,” Ray replied. “The legality is on me. It is my mantle that will be in trouble. You are covered.”

  Jackson shook his head again. “Lawyers. Going to battle and somehow we still need lawyers.” Turning to his Italian counterpart, he said, “Okay, Lieutenant, let’s get moving.” He gave Ray a glare as he turned to prepare for the movement, but the Wrogul was already thinking about what they might encounter in Innsbrück.

  * * *

  Sunrise found the mixed, platoon-sized group of mercenaries on a siding outside of Hall in Tirol, the maglev nexus just east of Innsbrück. One of Gamboa’s contacts had smoothed the way with the Tyrolean regional government, but it had caused a bit of an issue for one of the SI soldiers. Patrick “Gameboy” Gamber had changed his name as a young man, to avoid connection with his infamous family, but now he found himself directly representing his grand-uncle Tony Gamboa for this operation. Fortunately, he only needed to meet with the chief of the Bundespolizei and assure him they did not plan to shoot up the province. He only hoped it was true.

  The one factor they had not counted upon was the other party that met them at the station.

  “Lujkhas.”

  “Harryhausen.”

  “What the fuck are you doing here, Lucky? Crom ordered you onto that transport to Weqq. You gave up spa treatments of your mangy coat, for what?”

  “…and you signed a document saying you would not pursue an ongoing Peacemaker investigation.”

  “This is no longer Peacemaker business, Snaggletooth. It is family.”

  “Oh, I see ‘it’s family,’ Blubberface. You had to bring Mafioso onboard to help you break the Peacemaker strictures?”

  Ray could see both Ferrari and Gamber/Gamboa bristle.

  “My grandson Marinara is his granddaughter’s godfather!”

  Lucky snickered. It was never a good thing to see a Besquith snicker. “‘Godfather. Really. Someone’s a sucker, and I ain’t talking about the things on your arms.”

  “At least I have a platoon of mercs to take down Mengele!” Ray’s chromophores flashed in agitation. “What have you got?”

  Lucky’s grin grew even broader. The mercs began to back away.

  “You.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “It really is good to see you, Lucky, but I need to do this myself.” Ray told his former partner once the mercs had returned to unloading their equipment.

  “No, you don’t, Ray. This Wrogul is still a Peacemaker matter, and I left Crom a message to that effect—set to deliver once she had left the system and discovered I wasn’t on Jefferson.” Lucky was combing out her fur and putting on protective gear with a muted pink camouflage pattern.

  “It has been almost two months. Surely she has responded and told you to drop it and get out of here.”

  “She did, but when I explained you would never let it go, she put me on Administrative Leave as punishment for disobeying her orders.” Lucky smiled, and it was genuine—not quite as terrifying as her earlier expression. “Can you just imagine the cloud of purple fur?”

  Ray laughed, but turned serious again. “But if you are on Admin, you cannot be involved in a Guild investigation, either!”

  “She downgraded. Marked it as a cold
-case and routed it to the Earth desk to be handled as a Human internal matter. Meanwhile, I have been assigned to the Earth desk administratively while on leave to simply ‘keep an eye on the system,’ while the Guild leadership settles on Weqq.” Lucky looked rather smug. “By the way, as the only Peacemaker in the Earth system, I am pleased to inform you that your resignation paperwork got ‘lost.’ It was a shame what happened to that slate with all your signatures.” She gestured over her shoulder at Jackson. “So, your deputization of Jackson is legit. You never resigned but are on compassionate leave.”

  “Wait, how did you know about that?” Ray flashed frustration. “Have you been spying on me?”

  “Well, I am the Earth desk for the time being…” Lucky grinned, and it was all that Ray could do to keep from flashing susulol—contentment.

  * * *

  Someday, when I write my book on being the best PI—Peacemaker Investigator—in the galaxy, I will title this chapter “Getting the Band Back Together.” The thing is, Lucky and I really work well together. I will miss her when she leaves to undergo puberty and become an alpha, but we plan to remain friends.

  Sure, we pick on each other, and argue and fight, but I’ve watched the bipedal variety of Human adolescents do that. Some do it all of their lives. That is Lucky and me. Like brother and sister.

  Unfortunately, that reminded me of something. There was a bipedal that Mari always called his sister.

  Meryll.

  Yes, that was it. He told me she and her fiancé were off-planet and would be returning soon. I needed to get a message to her to stay away. Earth was not safe and might not be for a while. Once this business was over, we all needed to get away from Earth until the Merc Guild business was settled.

  The only problem was that the Tri-V showed images of Peepo’s fleet destroying Human ships leaving the system. We would need to think of another way to get clear. I need to talk it over with Lucky. After news of the raid on the Luna Consulate, even Peacemaker credentials were not sufficient to guarantee us safe passage.

  Of course, that supposed we survived confronting Mengele.

  * * *

  “Peacemakers, we have a report from Innsbrück. An unknown number of individuals broke into Schloss Ambras and stole armor and weapons from the museum.” Gamber was breathless as he conveyed the latest information from our contact in the Bundespolizei.

  “Medieval suits of armor and swords, right? How dangerous could they be when we have four CASPers and lasers?” Ray asked.

  “Actually, polished plate armor was used right after the Alpha Contracts. Those first Human mercs found themselves woefully unprepared for battling other races and weapons. Polished plate was pretty good against lasers,” corrected Jackson.

  “I know, but swords and pikes?”

  “Hey, a sharp edge in a seam or joint still works. It’s why CASPers have arm blades. The metallurgy might not be as good as carbon nanotube, but some of the swords and polearms were plenty strong.” Ray considered putting Jackson in contact with his nephew Verne—they both had a love of hand-forging and weapons manufacturing.

  “It could also be locals trying to arm and protect themselves,” supplied Ferrari.

  “If you say so. Now, where does the latest intel say Mengele’s lab is located?” Ray had turned back to the map table where he, Lucky, Jackson, and Ferrari were looking at a plot showing where reports of disappearances and berserkers occurred.

  “Everything centers around this town, Wattens.” Chief Warrant Officer Katie “Mama” Andalusia tapped the map on a point 15 kilometers east of Innsbrück. As the only non-combatant with pinplants, she had assumed the S-2, Intelligence, role for the unit. “The whole valley is riddled with abandoned salt mines, but this area is known to have several cave entrances—including one that is man-made. It’s also our best candidate.”

  “Military?” asked Ray.

  “Civilian commercial, actually,” said the pilot. “A rather famous gem company hollowed out part of the mountainside for a store, museum, and showcase. There were always rumors it was much bigger on the inside, an old bunker or hidden lab from the major regional conflict two hundred years ago. Galactic tech ruined the company and the facility has been abandoned for years. There are reports of lights and activity there in the past month.”

  “Thanks, Mama. That sounds good.” Now that they had a target, it was up to Jackson to run the operation. “Okay, Coonradt will take Duff, Bellmore, and Kalideen in Ranger suits. They are the initial entry team, backed up by the SI team led by Gamber with Basci, Thompson, and the Viagra twin…”

  “That’s Venafra,” laughed Ferrari. “However, I think Nicholas now has a new team name. I know his twin sister Alexandra will certainly enjoy teasing him with it.”

  “Okay, those are the entry teams. Your Mk 8s could possibly fit inside, given nothing has been modified from the old Kristallweltin—crystal museum—but my Mk 7s certainly won’t, so I propose we keep them outside for containment. Kuhn and Kaiju in their CASPers between the forest and the cave entrance to the east, Alex Venafra and Tony Alongi in their CASPers west of the entrance. “

  “And my heavy weapons?” asked Ferrari.

  “Well, I certainly hope we don’t need a heavy MAC, but Uzzolino and Adkins will be set up to the west with your Mk 8s and the Peacemakers until we know what’s inside.”

  Ray and Lucky listened to the plan. As unarmored, unaugmented individuals, they were supposed to wait for the deputized mercs to clear the route into Mengele’s lab, provided he was even there.

  The first problem was that it chafed at his conscience to send them in to do his job. He knew it bothered Lucky as well, but she was a gamma, and while more than a match for an unarmored Human, the reports they had heard suggested the berserkers could easily defeat the undersized Besquith.

  The second problem, however…

  “This sounds like a solid plan, Captain. But I know what you Humans, say…” began Lucky.

  “…No plan survives contact with the enemy,” finished Andalusia.

  Yeah, that problem.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Alpha Team, begin entry. Bravo, stand by. Coondog, you are go.” Before the Alpha Contracts, when one hundred Human units took contracts to fill various mercenary roles throughout the Union, few non-English-speaking units had adopted the American special operations practice of using team names and call-signs during operations. When only four came back in some semblance of “whole units” from those contracts, subsequent units tried to emulate the successful Four Horsemen. Since one of those was the distinctly American Cartwright’s Cavaliers, the custom and tradition of team names became much more widely adopted.

  There were two advantages—the first was communications security; if even the officers were addressed by call sign, there was no overt clue to the location of the leadership, reducing the odds of a decapitation strike to leave a unit leaderless. Second, while it was possible, and even common, to use team and trooper designation, there was much less confusion to whom one was referring when orders came for “Coondog” Coonradt instead of Alpha One. Likewise, while Jackson might be entitled to the label Rächer Six, Gerhardt “Hardman” Jackson did not feel entitled to the leader ident.

  The only caveat to team names was that one did not choose their own call sign, but rather the names were assigned by their fellow mercs. Jackson had to lobby very strongly for the mostly benign “Hardman” rather than “Hard-on” which had been suggested by his buddy Ginzberg, or “Pole” Adkins who had repeatedly run his CASPer into light poles, walls, doorways, and had been reassigned to crew-served weapons. Thus, the names were convenient, often embarrassing, and did not necessarily have to make sense.

  As such, the response to the call to begin the operation was met with Coonradt’s follow-on, “Golfer, Ringer, and Deeno. Time to move. Ringer and Deeno, left and right. Golfer and I will cover, then leapfrog.”

  “NODs or lights, Coondog?” “Deeno” Kal
ideen looked at the dark interior and wanted clarification whether he should turn on his helmet light or utilize their light-amplifying Night Observation Devices.

  “Let’s stick to NODs for now,” Coonradt replied.

  The entrance to the former crystal and gem museum had once been landscaped to appear as if customers were walking beneath the face of a giant looking out from the mountainside. The gardens and forest had been neglected, but the general features were still there, except for the waterfall that had come from the mouth. It was creepy, and it set the mercs on edge.

  “Ringer is in. Deeno is in. No lights, no movement. We have taken covering positions.”

  “Roger Deeno. Golfer, take left and move past Ringer. I’ll take right. Ringer and Deeno, mark your position with a red flash.” Coonradt waited until they saw the half second flash from the comm unit nestled against the neck of each trooper before moving. “Advancing.”

  “Bravo Team, move up. Schematics show a lobby ten meters across, then a single entrance to a larger gallery twenty-five meters across. Once Alpha takes position, they will hold, and Bravo will enter up the middle and advance to the gallery,” Jackson told the teams.

  Ray could see the positions on the map displayed in his vision by his pinplants. This was the part when so many operations met with the fatal surprise. No matter how many times they drilled on merc tactics to allow Peacemakers to interact with contracted troops, it still made him nervous. Beside him, he could feel the tension coming off Lucky, more so because she was not permitted to be in the advance stage.

  “In position,” announced Coonradt. “Gameboy, you are clear.”