“You’re insane.” She shook her head. Her paws flexed around the bulb, and Hak smelled a hint of bergamot. “You’ve gone too far.”
Hak tilted his head to one side. “Perhaps. What I cannot do is fail.”
“Fail? All you’ve done is turn him into a very capable and efficient killer. He’s a monster, if ever there was one.”
There it was. Hak saw the change in her upper body as it almost folded in on itself. She was afraid. A Peacemaker should command respect and cooperation. An Enforcer should command fear and use it as a tool to accomplish the mission no matter the stakes. What she’d seen on the monitors frightened her, because it took what she perceived to be the worst of her race and amplified it.
“An Enforcer must do whatever it takes to accomplish the mission.” Hak sipped from his water bulb and drew a slow breath. “Hr’ent honored the threat and committed himself to survival. That he killed four condemned criminals and left one to the needle of justice is all the proof I need that he not only has the stomach—the mettle—for his duties, but the mental discipline to know when to hold back. Not only did he pass the test, he proved that he is more than I expected, Graa’vaa. I had to know with absolute certainty that he could deliberately take life, under the worst circumstances. I cannot consider anyone for the Enforcer program who cannot do these things.”
“Are we creating an Enforcer or an assassin?”
“I’m creating someone exceptionally capable of both, with the clarity of judgment to know when one is necessary over the other.” Hak gave her a thoughtful look. “In many recent situations, his restraint has been commendable—especially for a half-breed. There will come times when he must be able to tap into the fuel that exists within him, Graa’vaa, then turn it off again like a switch—which is exactly what he did in there this afternoon. I believe his survival, as well as the survival of countless others, will depend on it.”
“You’re playing a very dangerous game, Hak, and I don’t like it.”
“If it’s any consolation, you’re not the first to say so, and that admonishment came from a considerably higher pay grade than yours.” Hak paused for a moment and changed tactics. “This isn’t going to be an issue for you, is it? You were assigned to this mission because of your level of expertise in clandestine infiltration and information gathering missions. Frankly, you’re one of the best I’ve ever seen, and I have big plans for you. I don’t have the time or inclination to replace you at this point. Given that there is no barracks nearby, you’d be ‘in hack’ aboard the ship for the duration of this mission.”
“That’s not necessary,” she growled at him.
Hak smiled and nodded his thanks. Good, he thought. Her righteous indignation can be forged and directed while creating opportunities for reward.
“I will have the intelligence briefing prepared by transition,” she assured him.
Hak nodded again. Compliance and duty were great indicators of internal strength, especially for an Oogar, but in this particular case, it would not be enough. The long game required a wider net of influence, and while much of the future rested in Hr’ent’s more-than-capable paws, there was a definitive need for someone with the skill sets Graa’vaa possessed, but only if they learned the bigger picture. Sometimes that meant dealing with the biggest, closest problems first. It was a pity she had been passed over for the Academy, but nothing was impossible.
“As you finalize the team briefing, you will work with Hr’ent directly. I want him learning the finer points of information gathering from someone most qualified to teach it.” Hak paused for dramatic effect and waited until Graa’vaa eyes met his. “That would be you.”
“You expect me to work with him after…that?”
“Make no mistake, Graa’vaa. I do not expect you to work with Hr’ent. I require it of you. More specifically, the Guild Master’s orders to me were to ensure our young Enforcer receives the best training and support we can give him in a short time period. Have you given any thought as to why your leave from the Intelligence School was originally delayed two months?”
Her mouth worked for a moment before opening, and then closing, without a word. She shook her head. “Hr’ent had barely returned from his commissioning mission. You’ve been working this that long?”
“Much longer,” Hak answered. “But I will not divulge those details for the safety of a protected species. His mission was of critical importance to the guild in a way that will not be measured for many years to come.”
“But when he returned…” her voice trailed off before she picked up the thread again. “Hr’ent’s accident occurred about the time of my original leave. Is that why you canceled it?”
“Your request said it was for personal time. Had it been for a family emergency or something along those lines, it would have been approved.” He smiled. “I had a feeling the accident would help precipitate this course of action. All we needed to do was ensure a few key details.”
She ran a paw over the fur on the top of her head. “And you’ve been working him the entire time, right?”
“With the understanding that my answer never leaves this room?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said immediately.
He gave a barely perceptible nod.
“You bastard.”
Hak tilted his head to one side and smirked. “I told you I could not fail, Graa’vaa. I simply organized the critical points to favor my initiative.”
“You forced the odds.”
“No. I stacked the deck. In the arenas I fight in, victory comes from putting the right cards in the right order so they fall at a time predetermined only by oneself…or myself, in this case. And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.” Hak rasped out a chuckle as only a Sidar could. “Hr’ent, on the other hand, is something else…requires something else. Throughout his entire life, he has forced the odds through guile and brute force. And he has been exceedingly capable with either as needed. Indeed, far too many over the years have underestimated him simply because he is an Oogar, and they believe your species is incapable of guile. I suspect people always will—until it is too late, that is.” And some day, he just might surpass me in stacking the deck. Hak shook his head as visions of the future threatened to pull him off-topic. He fixed his attention back on her. “Hr’ent’s success has depended on his skill at forcing the odds, as you put it. He became a Peacemaker in no small part because if it. He garnered my attention with it.” Hak let out a long breath. “Graa’vaa, we haven’t created a monster. We have simply given Hr’ent better tools to allow him to succeed. When we drop him into the—how did he put it?—into the meat grinder on Godannii 2, what do you think he will do from the moment he sets foot on that world? He’ll force the odds in his favor. Whether he repeats his performance against the prisoners or does something completely unexpected, it is my firm belief that he will end up on the winning side of the equation.”
She blew out a frustrated grunt.
“You’re wagering too much on him, Hak,” she warned.
Hak gave her an understanding smile. He appreciated her discomfort, but she didn’t need to be happy with the situation. She just needed to do her job.
“Like it or not,” he said, “we’re all in this together.” He rose and headed toward the door. Over his shoulder, he said, “I’m wagering too much on all of us, Graa’vaa, but I haven’t lost a bet yet.”
He drifted through the portal, leaving her sitting with a sour look on her face.
* * *
Transit to Godannii 2 (2 hours remaining)
Peacemaker Blue Flight
“You remember the class on Intelligence Preparation of the Battlespace, right?” Graa’vaa asked Hr’ent the moment he entered the forward sensor compartment of the Blue Flight ship. She practically barked the question, and he didn’t miss the underlying resentment he knew she must be feeling. She’d watched the video. He’d gone Feral. He knew she had to have found his display repugnant, like any civilized Oogar would.
> He ignored her tone and stole a moment to take in the room. The left-hand and far walls were covered by banks of screens and sensor displays that contained a comprehensive collection of data any intelligence officer could draw on to good effect. Both banks had narrow counters and several built-in keyboards before them. There was a small table in the middle of the room, with a Tri-V projector at its center and four chairs around it. On the far-right wall was a clear plate of glass with an indecipherable array of names, places, and equations of a sort. Hr’ent couldn’t make heads or tails of what was on the board, although he recognized some of the names, all of which were involved with the events taking place on Godannii 2.
Blue Flight vessels were designed as combat mission platforms, search and rescue vehicles, and diplomatic transports—a diametrically opposed combination of mission capabilities, but each with a purpose. As a combat-capable ship carrying weapons and ammunition, it was a tool used to support operations as well as recover Peacemakers when missions went sideways. Diplomatic meetings and the like, in reality, could be no less harrowing than combat ops of every kind. Instead of actual weapons and ammunition, subterfuge and intelligence gathering were the weapons. In any of its mission sets, Blue Flights excelled in the hands of a competent crew. Hr’ent, as an Enforcer, was at the center of those ops now.
“It was a Human 21st century term, I think,” Hr’ent replied. He scratched idly at the rapidly healing gashes on his arm and leg, which had been treated and covered to heal. His enhancements helped the wounds close and begin healing quickly on their own. The Sidar physician had told him that he’d be fully healed by the time he needed to make his drop onto Godannii 2. “I thought it was a silly term, actually.”
“Why would you consider intelligence silly?” Her eyes narrowed in ever-growing anger. “If there’s one thing Humans do well, it’s war. All of their major armies use intelligence to prepare for combat operations. Most of their efforts are far better than those of some of the standing armies in the Galactic Union. They do not have the brute force most of the others do, and their technical expertise is growing by leaps and bounds. What they have is much more than fighting spirit, too. You want a silly term, that’s one…” She shook her head in frustration. “Anyway, Intelligence Preparation of the Battlespace, when done well, is a force multiplier.”
Hr’ent snorted. “You sound like a staff officer.”
“I am a staff officer.” She frowned. “That doesn’t mean I sit back on my haunches hoping the mouth-breathing, knuckle-dragging combatants win their fight. Now, are you going pay attention, or not?”
Hr’ent felt a small smile on his maw. He liked her. “I’m all yours, Graa’vaa.”
“This isn’t a one-sided lecture, Hr’ent.” She eyed him dubiously. “You’ve already reviewed the packet I sent you?”
“Before I came here.”
“And all the combat footage?”
“Yes.”
“Good, because now you’re going to take a look into my cauldron of information and see what you think is important. We’ll work together from there.” She pointed at the Tri-V screen in front of her. “We know the whole planet is at war. It’s a gods-damned mess, really. We know the Peacemakers are on the ground and are being held by the GenSha, but we do not know about their condition or location, although I have my suspicions. The ISMC hired a mercenary company—I don’t know which one yet, but I’ll get that—to deal with what they’ve categorized as an insurrection by terrorists. I have to admit, the mercs have severely convoluted this little drama. Media sources are sporadic at best, and most of the communication networks are jammed with noise or silent. The last batch of transmissions discussed several things—the Peacemaker team being one item. GenSha leadership made a death threat—if they didn’t hear from the guild in 170 hours, they would start executing our team.”
“Executing?” Hr’ent asked, feeling his anger flare. “How long ago was that?”
“About 130 hours.” Graa’vaa sighed. “The guild doesn’t negotiate like that, Hr’ent.”
He nodded. “That’s why I’m here.”
She glanced up at him, as if she wanted to say something. Instead she pointed at the screen where a map was displayed. “I believe the Peacemakers are being held in an ISMC compound on the outskirts of Moppicut City. From what I can see from the GenSha command and control networks and movement patterns I captured from the still-functioning cameras, that makes the most sense.” She motioned toward the scrawl of data on the glass wall. “I’ve been doing some figuring, and I just don’t see any other option.”
Hr’ent glanced at the scribbles on the glass, then leaned in to study the map. Graa’vaa smelled like the syrn’ma blossoms of Uuwato, and for a split second he thought, rather guiltily, of his mother. Eyes fixed on the terrain outside the city, he scrolled the image, looking for a possible drop zone, and found one.
“I think we’ll have to drop me here, about 50 klicks to the south.”
Graa’vaa nodded. “Lieutenant Emonk suggested that drop zone along with a few others. She’ll be the primary lead for the drop. If that DZ is safe, she’ll put you in there.”
“That’s good.” Hr’ent leaned back. “So, we have a good idea where the Peacemakers are and how I’m going to get to the surface. What are we missing?”
Graa’vaa took a deep breath and hit a few keys on the panel.
“Well, there’s plenty of footage of all the combat taking place between the two sides—you’ve already seen the highlights. I’ve been focusing on the GenSha’s live video feed shortly before evening on day three of what we’ve designated the Godannii Incident. If you recall, it showed their leader carrying a young, wounded female to a nearby clinic.” Hr’ent nodded. He’d been as angered at seeing it as the GenSha must have been. “She had been shot by an ISMC trooper during a peaceful demonstration. The following night, ISMC admitted to the event. They expressed regret but said they had been provoked and had actually shown great restraint. They announced that they would be showing proof of their restraint once they had pieced everything together in an ongoing investigation. The GenSha claim the girl’s injury was the inciting incident, and they used it to rally their people to take up arms across the whole planet. ISMC, on the other hand, released a video late the following evening of an event that happened before dawn on the day the girl was shot. They claim a group of GenSha terrorists sneaked into an ISMC barracks, and in the darkness, slaughtered nearly 100 sleeping troopers.” Graa’vaa tapped deftly on the Tri-V controls. “This is something I’ve been meaning to look at again. Now that you’re here, and I’m not pulling and sifting through a mountain of sensor data, I can watch it. You should probably watch it, too.”
Hr’ent twitched his neck slightly to the left and watched as a video feed appeared on the Tri-V, the image of a doorway displayed front and center. Graa’vaa enlarged and enhanced the image.
“I’ve already seen this one too,” he said. “Pretty gruesome stuff.”
“I know, but something isn’t right. It’s been bothering me since I first watched it.”
“Roll it,” he said, focusing his attention on the screen.
Graa’vaa hit a command, and the video feed started, revealing the barracks and a scene of what could only be described as the aftermath of a slaughter. The time stamp in the lower right-hand corner indicated the recording was made at 11:17 a.m. on the morning before the young GenSha female was wounded. Rosy sunlight came through a high bank of windows, illuminating only one side of the room. The scene was brutal. Jivool troopers, all unarmed and unarmored, lay in their bunks or sprawled across the floor, and they’d been shot to pieces. There was blood everywhere, as if the attackers had completely unloaded their weapons into the Jivool.
Graa’vaa and Hr’ent watched as two armed Jivool troopers in ISMC uniforms walked down the middle of the barracks. Presumably, another ISMC trooper carried the camera, because the image was a bit unsteady and shifted left and right with occasional jerky motions. They
could tell some of the blood had started to congeal, but there were still broad pools of it covering portions of the floor. There were also dark brown patches of blood on some of the clothing and fur. The camera passed across the face of one dead trooper with clear but lifeless eyes, and then another trooper whose eyes were milky-white and glazed over.
“Wait a minute,” Hr’ent said.
Graa’vaa hit the pause button, and the image froze on those milky-white eyes.
“What is it?” she asked.
A sneaking suspicion crept into Hr’ent’s thoughts. He fixed his gaze on the lifeless eyes and the dark brown blood that had splashed on the Jivool’s gray fur.
“Back it up a few seconds…to the previous trooper.”
She hit a command, and the image backed up to show the previous trooper. His clear eyes bored into them.
“Do you see it?” he asked.
Graa’vaa gasped. “Yes. They were killed at different times—at least hours apart from the look of their eyes. This is fake…or at least staged.”
“Exactly.”
“And if it’s fake,” she said slowly, “the only reason ISMC would fabricate such a heinous attack would be to justify their military responses, which have been positively brutal.”
“Exactly.” Hr’ent nodded, and he felt his ire rising again. “Those miserable, corporate bastards…” Something else occurred to him. He glanced at the time stamp of the footage. “That says 11:18, right?”
“Yes,” she said slowly.
“Then why is the sunlight pink and coming in at that angle? As if this was recorded—”
“At dawn,” she finished, turning to face him.
Hr’ent’s muzzle lifted into a slight snarl. He hated deceit. If there was one sin against sentient beings everywhere, it was the pervasive existence of lies. Lies were at the heart of every crime ever committed, either in the act or the cover up.
Enforcer Page 23
