Ghost War

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Pep nodded and, hurt, started the hovercar again. We rode the rest of the way down the mountain in silence. She dropped me off then headed back up. By the time I got to my billet I was told I had to report to the Constabulary headquarters in Overton as soon as I took a shower and cleaned up.

  I lingered in the shower. I washed off a lot of grime and wished the water could wash away the image I had of that CDRF trooper rolling through the pine needles. I knew she was dead the second she started to spin. The medtechs confirmed it, but when an antivehicle weapon is used on a human, the human usually comes up worse for the experience.

  Eventually the hot water ran out, so I dried off, found clean jeans, and would have used the shirt from the night before, but Boris had gone and bled on it. I had another clean shirt, one I saved for special occasions, and I didn’t want to use it, but I really didn’t have any choice. I looked pretty good in it, but decided not to shave just so Reis wouldn’t think I was going to show him respect.

  In retrospect, not looking my best was a mistake. By the time I’d finished with my shower, Reis had dispatched a Constabulary vehicle to fetch me. Riding in the back, I looked like a felon nabbed for something horrible. I could see it in the eyes of others at the yard and even in Pep’s eyes. That hurt, but there was little I could do.

  The driver didn’t talk, which was fine with me. In a little over an hour we arrived in Overton, which is the largest city in the district—known as the “Gem of the South” in all those adverts trying to get people to come visit the sort of pristine forests I was cutting down. Overton isn’t built up too much—I don’t know what name it had when it started as a Combine town—and aside from the stone-and-steel central corridor, most of the town is low and built in harmony with the hills and valleys that make up the city.

  The Constabulary headquarters is a big blocky building convenient to the spaceport. I was led up the steps and immediately taken in a lift to the fourth floor. The driver passed me off to someone else who, apparently, was deaf. She never heard my request for water. She took me to an interrogation room and sat me down. For just a second or two she considered restraining me but thought better of it.

  As interrogation rooms went, this one was pretty good. It had a strong central light that allowed the walls to remain in shadow. Over on the far wall they had a one-way mirror, but I just sat in the hard metal chair in the center of the room. I could have gone over to the mirror and inspected myself, but that would make them think I was bone stupid. That assumption on their parts might be amusing, but would make the whole ordeal that much more unpleasant.

  The door banged open behind me, and Reis strode in as if he were Devlin Stone himself. He carried a lot of weight that made his jodhpurs and two-tone shirt look even more ridiculous than the thorn-torn fatigues I’d last seen hanging in tatters from his body. I could see the shape of countless bandages beneath the clothes, but he bore two scratches bravely on his face. I’m fairly certain he would dismiss them as nothing in some media conference, and the local media would laud his bravery.

  He gave me about as steely a stare as his piggy eyes could manage. “You clearly thought you could fool me, didn’t you? Make it look like you were helping, but you let them get away. You stopped my troops from catching your confederates.”

  I frowned. “That’s the way it’s going to go in your memoirs?”

  “Yes, Sam Donelly, if that is your real name.” He loaded that last with a lot of gravity, as if the only way I’d save myself was to confess, since clearly he already knew everything. “You’re not going to get away with this.”

  “Get away with what?” I snarled at him, sitting forward in my chair rather abruptly. “I was out there, someone was going to bomb my ’Mech, and you walk and talk your people into an ambush. I did what I could to stop your people from getting hurt and, in the process, killed more terrorists than your whole operation did.”

  Reis snorted and began to pace back and forth before the mirror, so I knew he was doing it for an audience. “We’re checking everything, Donelly, everything. We know already that you had congress with PADSU members last night.”

  “I decked one.”

  “And don’t think your history of violence has gone unnoticed. You also attacked a coworker last night and he required hospitalization.” He clasped his hands at the small of his back—it was a bit of a struggle, but he did it. “You are of bad character, Donelly, and we don’t tolerate people like you in this district.”

  “Yeah, that’s why we like it here. No competition.” I spitted him with a harsh stare of my own. “You know what I don’t like about you? You’re incompetent, don’t want to believe it, and just charismatic enough to make good men and women believe what you say about yourself. You got your people killed out there, and you’re going to pin it on me.”

  “Oh, so that’s what this was about then, is it?” Reis began to chuckle, sending a wobble from navel to jowls and back. “This is a GGF conspiracy to discredit me and get me removed. Well, it won’t work, mister, not a bit of it!”

  His face had gotten purple as he worked himself up, and spittle flecked white at the corners of his mouth. His right hand had appeared so he could jab a finger at me. I was fairly well convinced the next jab would be with a fistful of fingers and though I had made fun of him, I had no doubt that a clout from him would rattle my teeth something fierce.

  Which is when she appeared.

  I heard the door open and Reis’ face went from fury to beneficence in a nanosecond. He straightened up and smiled. “My lady, I thought . . .”

  She spoke before I could see her, since Commander Bloat was blocking the mirror, but that voice came cool and soothing in contrast to his rasping rage. “Your technique is illuminative, Commander, and I merely thought I might reciprocate by demonstrating some of the interrogation techniques we use on Terra.”

  Yes, the word Terra did send ice water trickling through my guts. The only folks who come from Terra to a backwater like Helen are Republic folks, which meant this was The Republic Knight Leary had been talking about. Her intervention here meant things were serious—as in well above Reis’ pay grade.

  She walked past me on the left and casually dropped a bottle of cold water into my lap. I’d not expected that and had to scramble to catch it before it hit the floor. I did, then pressed it to the back of my neck as I looked up at her. It was a long way to look, but well worth the effort.

  You’ve already gotten she was tall, and you can add slender to that. Great shoulders, too, tapering down into a narrow waist, a gentle flare of hips and seriously long legs that weren’t hurt by her wearing knee-high riding boots. She wore them much better than Reis. The rest of her outfit, from black leather skirt to dark blue blouse and black blazer, looked sharp enough to distance her light-years from the reality that was Helen.

  She had a creamy complexion, which combined with her straight black hair and emerald eyes to make one believe in the supernatural. She moved easily, almost casually, but I could read purpose in her steps. The way she’d dropped the bottle had been simple, but I knew it was a test.

  I smiled. “I wanted water. How’d you know?”

  She smiled and parts of me started to melt. “I know your type, Mr. Donelly.”

  “You can call me Sam.”

  “Well, Mr. Donelly, I am Janella Lakewood.”

  Reis cut her off. “That’s Lady Janella Lakewood. She’s a Republic Knight.”

  “Really?” I gave him a wry smile. “There once was a fair Lady Knight . . .”

  The Constabulary commander’s cuff snapped my head around. “How dare you speak to her like that?”

  Lakewood held a hand up. “Commander, please. Mr. Donelly never would have finished that limerick, would you, Mr. Donelly?”

  “Whose smile was so very tight . . .”

  The second cuff hit my cheek hard enough that I cut the inside of my mouth and was bleeding. I spat on the floor. “You want to hear more? I’ve worked up some variations.” />
  Lakewood raised her chin and those green eyes bored right through me. “Perhaps I misjudged you, Mr. Donelly.”

  “You don’t know my type after all, then?”

  “Oh, I know it, and know it very well. Yours is the type that comes to a bad ending, very bad.” She let her voice get all husky and, if not for the tone, I could have listened to her for hours. “You’re on the brink of making a decision, Mr. Donelly. On one hand you can help us here and we will help you. On the other, you will make enemies and we will be forced to destroy you.”

  Reis slammed a fist into his meaty hand to emphasize that point.

  I probed my cheek with my tongue. “Reis has got it all wrong. I have nothing to do with the GGF or PADSU.”

  She shook her head. “Last night PADSU confederates of yours entered a bar where they intended to pass you information in the form of an info-disk, but you contrived an altercation to get them out of there.”

  “That’s his story, but that’s not the truth.”

  “Then why don’t you give me a truth that makes sense?”

  I blinked at her. “ ‘Makes sense?’ You mean you buy Reis’ story that I was helping the GGF up there on the mountain?”

  “It reads well, Mr. Donelly. You’re in league with them. You incapacitate another of your coworkers so jobs shift around guaranteeing you’ll be alone. GGF comes and blows up your ’Mech, hampering ARU efforts to log. You continue to feed GGF info, and no one would believe they had you on the inside since you assaulted that one member. How much are they paying you?”

  “Don’t you know? GGF is doing it for the Mottled Lemur. Liberation for our furry little brothers.” I raised the bottle of water in a salute and snatched my hand back down before Reis could take a swipe at it. I snorted and a couple of things suddenly made sense to me. “Oh, that’s rich. You’re incredible, the both of you.”

  She shook her head. “Please, Mr. Donelly, enlighten me.”

  My eyes narrowed. “You have the spies going the wrong way, m’lady. If it weren’t for inside information, there’s no way Commander Credulity here could have had his people in place to pick off the GGF. And, furthermore, since my assignment was new this morning, and the extension of the deadline for the restraining order was new, oh, yeah, that’s great. The constabulary’s insider tips Reis to my fight with a PADSU member and GGF vowing revenge. Reis calls the judge, gets the deadline extended, then someone, probably you, m’lady, since Reis doesn’t have the juice to do it, calls someone at ARU and gets them to hang me out there with a work assignment. You used me as bait!”

  Reis began to chuckle in that sort of superior way that told me I was right, but Lakewood cut him off before he could lord all the details over me. “Interesting speculation, Mr. Donelly. You think well on your feet. Well enough to manufacture a dozen different explanations for how things went down. The fact remains that people died and your efforts prevented Commander Reis from apprehending suspects. Moreover, you entered a crime scene and destroyed evidence.”

  I pressed the bottle to my cheek. “Destroyed enough evidence that you can’t charge me with anything, right?”

  She hesitated for just long enough to tell me I’d called her bluff.

  Reis, undaunted by the obvious, snarled. “Oh, we have more than enough to put you away for a long time, Donelly, and in a hole so deep you’ll only see the sun at high noon.” He’d have continued, but someone knocked at the door and he went to answer it.

  I looked up at her. “You want to try to push it, or just retreat now and avoid looking stupid?”

  “Believe it or not, Mr. Donelly, I’d like to help you.”

  “Geez, that has to be the first time that’s ever been said to bait.”

  A hint of sympathy entered her voice. “Mr. Donelly, if you cooperate, things can go well for you. . . .”

  “Yeah? Got another hit team you want me to go trolling for? To Hell with you and Lord Leviathan there. Charge me with a crime or let me go home.”

  Reis began to chuckle again. Think of that superior laugh with another track of malevolence laid in counterpoint to it. It sounded like an asthmatic frog in heat.

  “Oh, you’re free to go, Donelly, but don’t go far.”

  “I’ll just be going back to work.”

  “No, you won’t.” Reis came back into my sight holding a little noteputer. “It’s a message for you from ARU headquarters. Your taking that ’Mech into that fight goes against company policy. You scanned the file and signed off on it. You’re fired.”

  A chill tightened my skin. “You did this, didn’t you, you bastard! You made me bait. Things went bad and you try to make me a scapegoat, and you get me fired. You’re one sick man, Reis.”

  “Yeah, maybe I am, but at least I have a job.”

  I shot to my feet, sending the chair skittering back. I cocked my left fist to punch his flat face out the back of his bald skull, but Lakewood grabbed my wrist.

  “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  “I’m sure, yes, I do.” I did, but as she released my wrist, I lowered my fist. “But I won’t. I won’t give him the satisfaction.”

  Her emerald gaze flicked toward Reis and back again. She lowered her voice. “I’m sorry he did that.”

  “Yeah, really?” I snorted. “As long as you’re going to play his game, you’re a liar. As they say, m’lady, jackals run with jackals. If I were you, this isn’t the company I’d want to be keeping.”

  “Words you should live by, Mr. Donelly. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Like you think I can do anything but.” I tossed her back the water. “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t want you to think you’ve done me any favors.”

  4

  A donkey that travels abroad, will not return a horse.

  —Hebrew saying

  Overton

  Joppa, Helen

  Prefecture III, Republic of the Sphere

  14 November 3132

  When moving between the stars, you have to take a DropShip up to a JumpShip, and that JumpShip then rips a hole in reality and crosses up to thirty light-years in the blink of an eye. In that moment, since the Kearny-Fuchida jump drive is playing with all sorts of quantum mechanical things, human perception can go all weird. When I’ve jumped, for that nanosecond, I feel like the whole universe has opened up for me, revealing all its secrets and its immeasurable possibilities.

  When I snap back into reality, trapped again in my body, I feel the lack. I feel as if all the doors that I viewed as opened have shut again. It’s almost suffocating to go from omniscience to ignorance in a flash.

  Well, walking out of the Constabulary headquarters, I felt like that, but worse. Reis getting me fired, I’d not expected that. I knew he was trying to turn the pressure up on me to get me to confess to my involvement with GGF. In his worldview, since he could do no wrong, his mistake was my fault. He had just enough cunning to paint a picture that Lakewood could buy into, so I was stuck and stuck hard.

  I started wandering down the street and passed by a ComStar office. ARU had my universal linknumber. They’d wire my severance, if there was any, to it, and forward any messages there, too. Having a ULN was really useful when the commo-net was truly universal. With the HPGs going down it still functioned planetwide and, as with Rusty’s birthday greeting, offworld messages did get through, but slowly and unreliably.

  I opted not to go in and see if ARU had sent money already. If I had it I’d spend it, and since I really was thirsty, I didn’t want to drink it all up. I didn’t figure it would be much of a stake, but I’d have to work with it. If I couldn’t, if I weren’t able to maintain a job, Reis would come after me, nab me on vagrancy charges and get me expelled from The Republic, and then where would I be?

  A couple generations back I’d have headed for Outreach and tried to hook up with some mercenary company. I was good with ’Mechs and in my grandfather’s time there was always enough work for a pilot with some skill, some luck, and enough neurons to form a syn
apse. I could have gotten work, maybe not with Wolf’s Dragoons or the Kell Hounds, but some smaller company or some minor noble who wanted his own security force would have snapped me up in a heartbeat.

  Devlin Stone and his reforms changed all that. Back in the dawn of time, when the Word of Blake launched their jihad on civilization, they did a lot of damage and took over some worlds. Devlin Stone was a guy they tossed into a reeducation camp, but he did the reeducating. He escaped, and with the help of confederates liberated the camp, then the world, then the worlds around it, creating the Kittery Prefecture, which was a prototype for The Republic.

  Stone realized fairly quickly that when unscrupulous people pilot BattleMechs, violence is just going to break out. After all, if someone has a hammer, all problems look like nails, and when your hammer is a BattleMech, you can do some serious pounding on that nail—be it another BattleMech or some tiny village.

  He embarked on a two-step process for changing society. First, he restricted those who could use hammers. In some cases they gave their hammers up voluntarily, and in other cases they were convinced this was a good idea. A lot of blood got spilled, but a lot less has been spilled since then, so that was a good thing.

  The second step was to institute programs that helped folks see that not all problems were nails and, furthermore, that there were other tools that could solve those problems. Since Stone had the only hammers and no one wanted him to see them as a nail, they started making use of his other tools and we flowed into this Golden Age of peace that worked for everyone.

  At least, that’s what the school files would tell you. As with generalizations, things fray around the edges. I wandered into a worn and grubby section of Overton. If it had seen a golden age, it was the old days when Hanse Davion sat on the throne of the Federated Suns. The whole area just had the stink of rotting garbage and overheated engines.

  I knew I’d found an area where I could lose myself. I trolled through the streets, looking down alleys for just the sort of sinkhole that could swallow me up and found it half hidden behind a Dumpster. I threaded my way around the rusting metal box and down some steps. The neon sign over the door was supposed to read “Banzai,” but the way things had burned out all I saw was “Banal.”