by Ryk Brown
Commander Macklay turned back toward the men preparing to board behind them. “Next one,” he instructed. A moment later, the door closed, and the shuttle car accelerated smoothly away, its inertial dampening fields making the sensation of movement nearly unnoticeable to its occupants.
“What ‘diplomatic solutions’ does the president plan to use?” the commander wondered as he took a seat opposite his commanding officer. “The Jung haven’t answered a direct message from us in over five years, and their envoy and his staff are all in custody.”
“To be honest, I don’t care,” the admiral admitted. “I’m tired of having my hands tied behind my back by bureaucrats and politicians, none of whom have the slightest inkling of how to protect their worlds from the Jung.” The admiral looked at his trusted aide and sighed. “We need to prepare ‘Clean Slate’.”
Commander Macklay did not look pleased. “Admiral, Clean Slate is meant to be a last resort. It is meant to be used during an internal insurrection or after a devastating attack by our enemy.”
“Which is exactly what will happen if we do not strike now, and strike hard.”
“Then, launch the strikes. Take the initiative and do what you know must be done. Leave the politicians to run their worlds, while you protect them. Hell, they won’t even know the strikes have occurred, and by the time they find out, the war will likely be over.”
“Oh, they’ll find out, and much sooner than you think,” the admiral insisted. “Scott’s had his spies watching me since the day I was reinstated—against his better judgment, I remind you.”
“But Clean Slate is essentially a military coup, Admiral…”
“I know what the hell it is,” the admiral quipped. “I wrote the damned thing. But it’s not a coup. I fully intend to open up all worlds to elections, once the Jung have been dealt with and all the Alliance worlds are fully capable of defending themselves. If the Jung are defeated, their defensive needs will be greatly reduced,” Admiral Galiardi pointed out.
Commander Macklay did not look convinced. “If the public ever finds out…”
“If the public finds out, nearly half of them will agree with what we did,” the admiral insisted. “At least half of the people on Earth, and to be honest, those are the only ones I really care about. Times have changed, Commander. Unfortunately, the governments of Earth have not. It’s a dangerous galaxy, and we’ve only discovered a fraction of what’s going on out there. If we let people like Dayton Scott weaken us, the Jung will roll over us, again and again. I will not let that happen.”
“Even if it means violating your oath?”
“The oath is impossible to uphold,” the admiral insisted. “You make a promise to protect the people, while at the same time promising to yield to their will, even if their will makes you unable to protect them. The reason men like us are in charge is because we understand that sometimes two wrongs do make a right.”
The shuttle car began to decelerate as it approached the fleet command and administration complex, deep within the asteroid that was Port Terra.
Commander Macklay sighed as the car came to a stop. “I’ll get everything ready, sir. However, I beg you to make one last plea to President Scott, perhaps in private. Maybe you can use our knowledge of his son’s activities to convince him to play ball with us.”
“It won’t work. I know Dayton Scott.”
“But at least history will show that you tried everything possible, before taking such drastic measures.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what history says,” the admiral replied as the shuttle car door opened, “as long as it says we won. But I see your point.”
* * *
“And you are certain this method is secure?” Suvan wondered as he examined the information on the view screen in his hotel room.
“Nothing is one hundred percent secure,” Terig warned. “But I checked this place out. They do quite a lot of business, from all over the sector.”
“Is molo twine the only thing they sell?”
“No, they sell many things. Some of them made from molo plants, some not.”
“Then why the twine?”
“There are only three products that the Karuzari are monitoring for messages. Molo twine, Haven prayer baskets, and dunsel spice. I chose molo twine, which is commonly used as candle wicks. I even started making my own candles, just in case.”
“Good thinking,” Suvan praised. “I still cannot believe that Nathan Scott is alive.”
“He looked a lot younger than I expected,” Terig commented.
“You are not the first person to make that observation, believe me. So I just order one of those three products, put the encrypted message into the special delivery instructions field, and that’s all there is to it?”
“That’s it. But I should warn you, it took nearly a week for them to respond to my first message.”
“If you told them about me, then I suspect they will be watching for messages more closely,” Suvan insisted as he began typing his message.
Terig watched Captain Navarro while he typed, wondering what he had been through the last few weeks. “Do you really think you can steal the Teyentah?”
“To be honest, my odds of success are extremely low. However, they are no longer as low as they were an hour ago,” he added with a wry smile. “Thanks to you.” He looked at the young man. “It took a lot of courage to approach me like that. It was also not very smart.”
“I couldn’t think of another way.”
“Next time, write a note and slip it into the target’s pocket or something,” Suvan suggested as he pressed the order button. “The order is placed. How do I get the reply?”
“It will come in the shipping confirmation message.”
“So, the Aurora is nearby?” Suvan wondered.
“I don’t believe so,” Terig replied. “I think she is in an entirely different sector, to be honest. They didn’t really tell me much.”
“You do know you have gotten involved in a dangerous game, do you not?”
“I’m starting to realize that, yes,” Terig admitted. “I just hope my wife doesn’t find out. Give me your comm-unit,” he added.
“Why?”
“I know a trick to make text messages more secure.”
Suvan handed Terig his comm-unit. “One of the advantages of being a digi-spook, I imagine.”
Terig nodded as he worked. “Does your wife know what you are doing?”
“She does not know the details, but she knows that I am here and that I am risking my life.”
“And she doesn’t mind?”
“She minds,” Suvan replied. “But she also knows that I cannot turn my back on such things.”
“You do not worry about her safety?” Terig wondered.
“I have taken proper steps to ensure she is as safe as can be expected. I would strongly suggest that you do the same for your wife.”
“I’m not sure I know how,” Terig admitted.
“Perhaps you should send her away, on an extended vacation. Someplace far.”
“Easier said than done, I’m afraid. My position in House Mahtize does not pay that well. Besides, she would not leave without me, especially if she knew what I was doing.” He handed Suvan his comm-unit. “Done. You can now send me text messages without fear of the Dusahn reading them. At least, not immediately.”
“What do you mean, ‘not immediately?’” Suvan wondered.
“No encryption is one hundred percent,” Terig explained. “It’s just a matter of how long it takes to decrypt it.”
“And this one?” Suvan asked. “How long will it take them?”
“A few days. Perhaps, a week.”
“I’ll try to restrict its use.”
Terig looked at his watch.
“I should be getting home.” He looked at Suvan as he rose. “Thank you for not killing me, Captain.”
“You’re welcome. And call me Tensen, remember?”
“Of course,” Terig replied, feeling stupid.
* * *
“The subject rarely leaves the building, and when he does, he is protected by a moving shield, capable of repelling both energy and projectile weapons,” Krispin explained. “In order to complete the assignment, I would need access to the interior of the facility. Even then, I cannot promise anything.”
Mister Dakota looked displeased. He took a long sip of his drink, gazing out across the courtyard as shoppers moved between stores. “I would hate to see you returned to captivity,” he said, his insincerity obvious. “Especially after getting another taste of freedom.”
“You call this freedom?” Krispin laughed. “A dead man has no freedom. I can deal with captivity, if I must.”
“Perhaps, but I fear your significant other finds incarceration a bit more challenging.”
Krispin glared at his handler, thoughts of his beloved Sara hovering on the edge of reality, in a drug-induced haze, at the mercy of guards who despised her very existence. “If you expect me to complete this mission…voluntarily…then the odds of success need to be better than trying to free Sara of my own accord.”
“Perhaps, I underestimated your abilities,” Mister Dakota declared, setting his glass down on the table. “Are you refusing to carry out your mission, Mister Bornet?”
“I am saying that the mission cannot be accomplished…by anyone…without a way to get inside the target’s considerable security measures. But, I suspect you already knew this.”
“We had hoped you might uncover a weakness that we had not,” Mister Dakota admitted. He placed a credit on the table, then rose, buttoning his suit jacket. “I will make some inquiries. Good day, Mister Bornet.”
Krispin picked up his glass, quickly tossing the remainder of his beverage down his throat as he watched Mister Dakota disappear into the crowd of weekend shoppers. He knew that killing the President of the North American Union would be an impossible task, and he was quite sure his employers had been aware of that fact from the beginning. What he didn’t understand was why they had made the offer in the first place.
Krispin added another credit to the table and then rose to depart. His answers would come soon enough. Of that, he was certain.
* * *
Captain Hunt stepped into the forward cargo bay of the Ansel Kinney, joining the four members of his original crew whom he felt he could trust and the eight men and women who he had contacted to replace those he could not. “To those of you new to the Ansel Kinney, I bid you welcome, and I thank you all for agreeing to join us,” he greeted as he made his way through the group to the middle of the bay. “All of you, new and old alike, will eventually be leaving everything, and everyone you know, behind for a new life in another part of the galaxy. I know the Ansel Kinney is only a cargo vessel, but make no mistake…what we are planning to do with her will put us in harm’s way. While those of you who served during the original Jung War are no stranger to such risks, those of you who have served with me on this ship the last few months are. If any of you do not wish to remain aboard, you will be free to resign your positions, complete with all earned bonuses, just prior to our final departure from the Sol sector.”
The crew of the Kinney looked at one another, unsure of what they were getting into.
“You mind telling us where we’re going?” Mister Dalton, the Kinney’s chief engineer, asked.
“Not until everyone has made their decision,” Captain Hunt replied. “I haven’t even told these people where we’re going, or why,” he added, gesturing to the new people joining the crew.
“Then why the hell are they here?” Mister Dalton wondered.
“Because they believed me when I told them that if they knew, they would want to come. That is the question the four of you now must ask yourselves.”
“Are we gonna get hazard pay?” Crewman Parks asked.
“Doubtful,” Captain Hunt replied.
“Are we going to get any pay?” Crewman Sakhof wondered.
“Some, but how much, I do not know.”
“What the hell are we going to get?” Mister Dalton asked.
“Pride in knowing you are doing something important, something to help change things for the better, rather than hauling cargo to nameless asteroids. Pride in knowing you’re following someone you can believe in, rather than some arrogant, power-hungry, revenge-seeking, old fart with delusions of grandeur.”
“Tell us how you really feel, Chris,” Denny remarked with a laugh.
“I take it what you’re planning isn’t sanctioned by the Alliance or by our employers,” Mister Dalton surmised.
“No, it is not,” Captain Hunt admitted.
“Well, hot damn. Count me in,” the old engineer exclaimed.
Captain Hunt looked at the other three men on his original crew, each of them nodding their heads in agreement with Mister Dalton. “Then we’re all staying,” he said, checking for any looks of doubt. “Very well.”
“So, what are we doing?” Mister Dalton asked. “We robbing a bank, or something?”
“Not exactly,” Captain Hunt replied. “We’re going to start funneling portions of our cargo to the Karuzari Alliance in the Pentaurus sector.”
“Uh, the Pentaurus sector is a two-week journey for this ship, Captain,” Mister Dalton reminded him. “One-way. Don’t you think the Alliance is gonna notice we’re missing?”
“We’re not going to the PC, at least, not at first,” Captain Hunt explained. “We’ll rendezvous with Karuzari cargo ships here in the Sol sector, that way, we’ll stay on schedule.”
“But, won’t the Alliance notice that some of their cargo didn’t reach their depots?” Crewman Sakhof wondered.
“That’s where Mister Souza here comes in,” Captain Hunt replied. “He’ll hack each depot’s automated cargo inventory system, making it think that all the cargo has been delivered.”
“But they have inspectors,” Crewman Sakhof said. “I have a buddy who flies them around from depot to depot, double-checking inventory.”
“Which is why we only expect to do this four, maybe five times,” Captain Hunt explained. “Eventually, we’re going to have to leave the sector and head for the PC ourselves, to avoid getting arrested.”
“So, we’re basically becoming pirates,” Crewman Parks surmised.
“Depends on your point of view,” Captain Hunt replied. “I prefer to think of us as ‘freedom fighters’.”
“Whose freedom are we fighting for?” Crewman Sakhof wondered.
“The same people who once fought for our freedom,” Denny said, speaking up proudly. “The Corinairans and the Takarans.”
“And everyone else in the Pentaurus sector,” Captain Hunt added.
“Damn straight,” Denny agreed.
“Who’s leading all this?” Mister Dalton wondered.
“I kind of want to know that myself, Chris,” Cassandra chimed in.
Captain Hunt smiled. “I was saving the best for last. Nathan Scott. He’s alive and well, and leading the Karuzari rebellion against the Dusahn in the Pentaurus sector.”
“What?” Cassandra’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “That’s impossible!”
“That’s what I said when he first told me,” Denny said.
“You told Denny?” Cassandra said in shock.
“Only because I was sure he would join me,” Chris defended.
“But we dated for six months,” Cassandra reminded him in protest.
“That’s why I wasn’t sure you’d want to go,” Chris admitted.
“This is getting really good,” Mister Dalton e
xclaimed.
* * *
Michael wiggled his way through the last meter of the crack that connected the cave, in which they had been hiding for the last two days, to the outside. As his head poked out into the open, he paused for a moment, moving only his eyes from side to side, looking and listening for any sign of Dusahn search parties. Fortunately, all he heard were the creatures of the Corinairan night, tweeting, whooping, and cawing. In the distance, he could hear the sound of the nearby river where he had obtained fresh water two nights ago.
Satisfied that no one was nearby, Michael wiggled his way into the open, immediately shifting over into another crevice in the side of the mountain, concealing himself. For several more minutes, he listened and looked, waiting for the slightest hint that they were not the only humans in the area, but found none. Finally, he tossed a small rock down the crack in the side of the mountain, signaling to Birk and Cuddy, waiting inside the cave, that they could begin their ascent.
Michael closed his eyes, breathing in the cool night air. Two days inside the tiny cave had been more than enough. He only hoped it had been enough time for the Dusahn to give up their search. He continued to listen, cringing with every grunt and groan emanating from the crack as Birk and Cuddy wiggled their way up to the surface. If anyone was nearby, they would surely hear them and respond. However, at this point, they had little choice. They were out of both water and food, and the smell of their own bodily waste had already made their hiding place unbearable. It was time to move.
Birk, still nursing broken ribs, was the next to emerge, helped along by Cuddy pushing him from behind. He slid out of the crack and rolled onto his back, taking in a deep breath of fresh air, enjoying it every bit as much as Michael.
Michael reached over and pulled Birk toward the crevice, urging him to find concealment as Cuddy emerged from the crack and quickly joined them. They waited for several minutes while they recuperated from their climb and continued to listen for signs of trouble. Again, they found nothing but the sounds of the forest at night.
