Counterstrike: The Separatist Wars Book 2

by Thomas Webb

Monty shook his head. “Ah, Shane. How little ye knoweth of the intelligence business. We humans figured out jump gates, but we still haven’t worked out how to share intel between agencies. Vahid is run by a charity organization affiliated with the Planetary Alliance.”

  Shane’s brows scrunched together. “I thought the UN and the Alliance were partners?”

  “We are,” Monty said, speaking in the same tone that a teacher might use to address a D+ student, “but this thing’s not directly overseen by the Alliance. It’s independent. It was set up by a few charitable worlds to help clean up some of the mess caused by the Separatist Wars.”

  “Wow,” Shane said, genuinely surprised. “I had no idea anything like that existed.”

  “Most people don’t know there are organizations out there helping that way.”

  “Thank God someone is, at least.” We’ve certainly done a terrible enough job of it.

  Montgomery leaned into his holos. “So what are we looking for here? Exactly?”

  “Let’s start with a location. You mentioned the Ganymede system. Where is the planet in proximity to the system’s jump gate?”

  Monty peered at the data on his holo screen. “Looks like it’s about a day’s trip from jump gate to planetside.”

  Shane performed some rough navigational math. Given the distance, that made sense. “Anything else?” she asked.

  “Yeah—looks like this organization isn’t just funded by the Planetary Alliance. It’s also backed by one of those corporate goodwill jobs. Sponsored by the Alliance, but paid for by a big interplanetary firm.”

  Shane felt her insides flutter. “Which one?” she asked. She already had a guess.

  “Ummmm. . .outfit called United Les Space. Ever heard of it?”

  “Yeah,” she said, trying to keep from screaming. “I’ve heard of it.” Shane fought not to race out of the room, whip out her comm device and immediately call Sao Paulo. “You have access to any of the holo feeds in that refugee center?” She actually did pull out her comm device, but instead of calling Lima she swiped through her array of holo files until she found an image of Ramsey’s new face. She slid it to Montgomery. “We’re looking for this guy. Maybe you could check the most recent time stamps at that refugee center?”

  Monty rolled his eyes. “This ain’t my first rodeo, Shane.” His fingers were already flying over the holo keys.

  Shane smiled at his reference to the rodeo. She needed to plan a trip home to Wyoming, and soon. She sipped her mediocre Air & Space Command coffee and waited for Monty to perform his voodoo. She didn’t have to wait very long.

  “Here we go,” Monty said. “Got some footage of your boy right here.” Montgomery pulled up a new holo file and let it play at real-time speed. In the holo vid, Ramsey strode across a red dirt clearing. The ULS log was visible on transport trucks and tents in the background. Pallets of relief supplies—food, blankets, and medicine, were stacked around the camp. Two lines of people snaked behind Ramsey, those being processed as war refugees and those being fed.

  Ramsey wore a hat and dark shades. Even with the new face, it was definitely him. He walked up to a woman with a data pad. She gestured and gave orders like someone who was in charge.

  “So who is this guy, Shane?” Monty asked.

  “We’re not sure yet,” Shane lied.

  She felt bad about it, but she couldn’t bring him all the way in. Not yet. She was already putting his career at risk. Any more and his life might be at risk as well.

  “He looks like a pro,” Montgomery said. He pointed to the image. “Check out his body language. See how he keeps the shades on, and how he never lets the holo cams catch a clean look at him?” Montgomery paused the feed and zoomed in, highlighting Ramsey’s new face. He keyed a command and waited. Monty scrunched his face in displeasure. “That’s odd. No facial recognition.”

  And you won’t find any, Shane thought. Not with that face.

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “Means he’s been scrubbed,” Monty answered. “Either that, or maybe he has a new face? I’ve only seen this a couple times before. Usually just with very heavy hitters. The ones with a really good reason to disappear.”

  “Any way you can ID his comm device and tag it?” Shane asked.

  “That’s a great idea Shane.” Monty eyed her suspiciously. “You been moonlighting in someone’s intel shop?”

  “Nah,” Shane said. “Just a lucky guess. Been watching too many spy vids, I guess.”

  Monty shook his head. “Okay. Well, like I said, that’s a good idea, but we probably can’t do it. If he’s gone through the trouble of getting scrubbed or having his face-swapped, he’ll have a space seal-tight encryption code on his comm device.”

  Shane’s face fell. “Well shit.”

  Monty grinned. “Don’t worry. I still got a few tricks up my sleeve. For you? I’ll see what I can do.”

  She brightened. “Thanks Monty. Can you see what you can dig up for me? And send it over to ASI headquarters in Sao Paulo?”

  Montgomery laughed. “Sure thing. You know this means you owe me one, right?”

  He had no idea. “That’s where you’re wrong, Monty—I owe you way more than just one.”

  -18-

  The Korabe Interstellar Air & Space Port bustled with activity. Crowds of beings swarmed through the port with their belongings in tow, all hurrying to claim baggage, or to depart for destinations both terrestrial and off-world.

  Lima adjusted the bag on his shoulder and gripped the handle of his floating suitcase, moving to join the other inhabitants of the VIP line for processing through security. Even those like Lima himself, the prescreened and anyone specifically invited by Kushite dignitaries or the military, had to be vetted a second time upon arrival. One could never be too cautious, he supposed, in such uncertain times.

  When he reached the front of the line, Lima moved his suit coat aside and pulled his UN passport and ID from the inside pocket. The Kushite guardsman took the card without a word. She scrutinized the identification for a second, looking from the holo image of Lima and back to his actual face.

  Satisfied, she waved the card over a scanner, then handed it back. “Welcome to the Kingdom of Kush, Mr. Lima.” The young guard did not smile.

  Silvio smiled back at her anyway, before nodding his thanks and moving on. As he walked, the retired intelligence operative observed his surroundings. A family returning to Earth from an interplanetary trip abroad was greeted by a pair of elderly residents of the Kingdom. The two old men, both dressed in brightly colored dashikis, embraced their returning family with warmth. A contingent of Salusian business women in sharp dress suits arrived, and a liaison to some sector of the Kingdom’s prosperous business community hurried to welcome them. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing out of place. That was good. In Lima’s line of business, not noticing such things could sometimes prove deadly.

  A few minutes later Silvio exited the small dignitaries’ area of the air and space port. He was considering how he would secure transportation to the palace when a familiar face appeared from the crowd.

  “Silvio!” General Jaali Njoroge said, beaming.

  The Kushite general spread his arms wide, pulling Lima into an enthusiastic bear hug that took the Brazilian spy’s breath away. After what seemed an eternity, Jaali released Silvio and held him at arms’ length. “So wonderful to see you in person again,” the hefty general said. “How was your transport over?”

  “A short three hours,” Lima replied, straightening his jacket. “I am glad to see you here, old friend. Glad, but surprised.”

  Jaali beamed. “When I heard you were arriving, I insisted upon picking you up myself.”

  Lima smiled. “My thanks. And please convey my gratitude to the chancellor for allowing me the use of a royal shuttle.”

  Jaali waved it off. “Think nothing of it.” He grabbed Lima’s bag without asking. “As the right hand of the King, the chancellor is busy with matters of state.
And while sending a shuttle to collect you would not raise suspicion, of course she cannot actually be seen with a UNIA operative.”

  “A former UNIA operative,” Lima corrected.

  “Of course,” Jaali agreed. “But you and I? We will not draw much attention. We are simply two old friends, catching up after too many years have passed. But come—let us get you to your lodgings and settled in.”

  The two men strolled through the air and space port until they arrived outside. Karabe Air & Space sat outside the ring of mountains which marked the boundaries of the capital city proper. In the distance was the ring itself, a circle of mountains surrounding Uzuri. A stretch of modern bypass twenty kilometers long connected the air and space port to the tunnel leading into the capital.

  Attendants took Lima’s bag and loaded it into a waiting diplomatic transport. Silvio surveyed the vehicle. A black, hydrogen-powered air car, complete with pulse proof glass and armor. Two small Kushite flags flew from the front. It seemed the Kushites valued their security and privacy highly, even here in the very heart of the kingdom.

  Lima climbed into the passenger side of the transport, while Jaali settled his bulk behind the controls. Lima assumed that Jaali, now a general, rarely drove himself. But Lima’s old friend deftly maneuvered the vehicle through the spaceport traffic, demonstrating that he hadn’t lost his driving skill. Jaali merged into the outflow, joining the vehicles on the road stretching toward the ring of mountains and the Kingdom’s capital.

  The two men chatted of Jaali’s family for a time. Finally the conversation turned to Lima, his new company, and his team.

  “From what I have seen,” Jaali offered, “your people are outstanding,”

  “Yes. I am quite proud of the selections I made. I went through hundreds of files before I found the right combination of people . . . a team I thought would be suitable for the kind of work I had in mind.”

  Jaali grunted his approval. “I have been read in on your operation on Mios, Silvio. I knew you were a talented operator, but anyone who can pull something like that off?” Jaali whistled low. “That was brilliant, the tactic with the AI.”

  “That was all my team,” Lima said. “I can not take credit for any of it.”

  “Certainly,” Jaali replied. “But a good leader must accept the blame if things go wrong. He or she should also get the accolades when those same things go to plan.” Jaali’s smile faded. “And of course, we were overjoyed that you could retrieve Chewasa from those animals. We can never repay our gratitude for your people rescuing one of our own.”

  “We were glad we could be of assistance,” Lima said.

  Despite Lima’s decades-long friendship with General Njoroge, he realized that if it weren’t for the rescue of Anesu Chewasa, he wouldn’t be receiving such a warm and open greeting from the Kingdom today.

  “We already have your temporary command center ready to go,” Jaali said. “We’ve set you up inside the intelligence section underneath the palace.”

  “Thank you. Extending the offer of the space was most gracious of the chancellor. And the king, of course.”

  “No—thank you, Silvio.” Njoroge’s eyes darkened. “The Kingdom does not take kindly to the kidnapping and torture of its people. If we have a new enemy in the Separatists and their corporate backers, we will gladly accept your assistance. You have shown yourself to be a friend. Not just to me, but to the Kingdom itself.”

  Silvio gave Jaali a nod. “It is my honor to assist in any way I can.”

  Green grasslands passed on either side of the highway. Up ahead was the main tunnel leading into ‘The Ring,’ as the locals called it. A great peristeel gate hung above the vast tunnels, ready to be dropped and secured in case of a ground attack on Uzuri. Bright morning sunshine turned to fluorescent lum twilight as they zoomed into the tunnel. Soon the green scenery was replaced, and nothing but the solid grey of duracrete swooshed by.

  As they drove, Lima decided to try and get to the bottom of why he’d really been invited to the Kingdom. “So what is it that you have for me, Jaali? It sounded urgent over the wave.” If he’d been asked here all the way from Sao Paulo, something had to be going on. Combined with the proposition of setting up a mobile command center for ASI in the palace itself? It all had him doubly curious about what the Kingdom had discovered.

  “I suppose we have kept you in suspense long enough,” Jaali replied. “A few days ago, we intercepted chatter from the United Les Space waves.”

  Lima raised a brow. “The Kingdom has been monitoring ULS?” he asked.

  “We began monitoring them as soon as your team shared with us what they discovered on Hostia.”

  “And were the waves not encrypted?” Lima wanted to know. ULS held an interplanetary intellectual property patent on data encryption. He’d heard rumblings that the UN was already gearing up for a bidding war on the next-gen communications scrambling technology. The irony of the UN bidding on tech that would probably be used to spy on them spoke volumes as to how the government was being managed.

  “Yes,” Jaali answered. “They were encrypted. And quite well, I might add.” Lima’s friend shrugged. “But the royal hackers got through.”

  That got Silvio’s attention. “The Kingdom has that kind of tech?” If so, it was news to him.

  That got a chuckle out of Jaali. “You don’t know everything about us, my friend.”

  Lima certainly didn’t. In fact, he knew precious little. Kush enjoyed the perks of being one of the strongest nations on Earth. There was a standing offer from the UN to become a member nation. Yet the constitutional monarchy continually refused the UN’s advances, having chosen to forgo the United Nation’s early forays into space exploration. Instead, the Kushites focused on technological advancements that would aid the Kingdom alone. Lima found himself surrounded with duracrete proof of the wisdom of that choice.

  They exited the tunnel and the splendor of the city spread out before Lima. He’d visited Uzuri several times before, but the magnificence never ceased to take his breath away. Towering spires of white. Elegant homes. Office buildings. The Maji Falls to the east, and the royal palace straight ahead, rising right along with the mountains in the background.

  “Any chance of your country reversing course and joining the UN?” Lima asked. It never hurt to inquire.

  Jaali merged smoothly into the morning capital city flow of traffic. He paused for some time. “I . . . have recently been instructed that this is not outside the realm of possibility.”

  “Oh really?”

  That sounded promising. More promising than any of the other formal offers he’d heard made over the years. Lima’s thoughts began to race. If he could somehow be a part of the Kingdom finally joining the UN? He would be able to write his own ticket. “We will have to discuss that in greater detail, Jaali.”

  Jaali smiled and nodded. “In good time, my friend. All in good time.”

  “So what is their next move?” Lima asked, turning the talk back toward ULS, the Separatists, and the matter at hand.

  Jaali signaled and changed lanes, passing a fruit delivery transport. “The intercepted waves referred heavily to Cetov 9.”

  “Cetov 9?” Lima asked, alarmed.

  “Yes.” Jaali said. He must have caught something in Lima’s tone. “Does Cetov 9 hold some special significance?”

  Lima darkened. “It is a neutral world. A member of the Planetary Alliance. It owes allegiance to no organization—not the United Nations, the Outer Colonies, or the Separatist cause.” Lima sighed. In light of what Jaali had just shared about the possibility of a UN-Kushite alliance, and the news of the message he’d just been told the Kingdom intercepted, Lima decided it would be in the best interests of all parties to come clean. “Please understand that I have only just heard about this myself. And that I was, of course, not at liberty to share with you the following information. But given what you have just told me about Cetov 9, it appears that circumstances have changed. No one was supposed to kno
w about this.”

  “About what?” Jaali asked, now all ears.

  “About what is set to take place on Cetov 9,” Lima said. “The UN is meeting with some of the more reasonable leadership of the Separatist movement. This is still very preliminary, but it could mean a first step toward peace talks.”

  “I see,” Jaali said. “Something like that would not be in the best interests of the hardcore Separatists. Or the bottom line of United Les Space.”

  Lima nodded. “That is correct.” He gazed out the window of the diplomatic vehicle. Some vehicles rolled along the paved road, while the sky trains zipped along their rails and air cars filled the lanes of the skyways above. “We did not think that the Separatists or their ULS friends knew about the upcoming meetings. What you have just told me would seem to indicate otherwise.”

  The driver behind Jaali sounded her horn, encouraging the Kushite general to increase his speed. Jaali simply allowed the other driver to pull alongside. He smiled and waved, then signaled and moved into a different traffic lane. “You think that this meeting will be their next target, then? That the bomb maker’s work will be employed there?”

  Lima had seen many things during his intelligence career. Too many to believe in coincidences. That was the rule rather than the exception. He’d weighed the odds that there would be a secret meeting on Cetov 9 signifying a first step toward peace, and chatter between ULS and the Separatists regarding the same planet, and the fact that neither party was aware of the other, all within a few days’ time. He’d weighed the odds. He had found them to be much less than slim.

  Lima’s mouth hardened to a thin line. “Given what you have told me, along with all the other pieces to this puzzle? I do not think Cetov 9 will be the target.” Lima shook his head. “No—I do not think it will be the target. I know it will be.”

  -19-

  The bustling streets of Shangjai crackled with an energy that was almost palpable. In the capital city of Alliance planet Cetov 9, dozens of races, species, and everything in between jostled and jockeyed for position in the melee that was Shangjai. Cetov 9 was famed throughout the known planets for its hosting of off-worlders. Business, pleasure, and anything else one could name were to be had on Cetov 9, and Shangjai was the planet’s beating heart.