Merker's Outpost

by I. Christie

  "What do you mean?" Harriet was getting impatient. She felt an urgent need to do something. Her adrenalin was pumping and her heart was pounding, as if she were getting ready to jump into action. Suspiciously, she slowed her breathing down, taking deeper breaths to center herself.

  Hold on, lieutenant. Why this urgent need? Where is it coming from? Military training or influence from sitting in the chair…or just because I need to do something? There are no warning alarms in my head. So, no personal danger to me.

  Deciding it was not a manipulated impulse she turned her attention back to the furtive figure that stepped out of the dark tunnel and was now in one of the well-lit city corridors, however she was wearing an interesting suit that covered her from head to foot.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you," Lt. Montran realized Charles had continued to speak, "What did you say about Maud?"

  "She is composed of the basic bios as you; however, she is different. What the difference is, I can't tell you."

  Ahh, the infamous 'can't or won't' ploy. Just what does Maud, Guardian's assistant, do? Dust and keep house? she thought dourly. "Betcha Guardian knows," she muttered to herself.

  Ya need ta get a grip on yerself, m'dearie. Whatever these bein's are, yer the stranger here. If ya gonna do somethin' yer gonna have ta decide just what it is yer gonna do, and that's gonna require gathering some information.

  Right. Well, I know it isn't me going over there like a one-woman army. The odds of me arresting them are not even worth putting on an odds board.

  She looked back at the chair. She needed to separate from her timorousness feelings about sitting in the chair. So what was it about the chair that was getting her so nervous?

  There is no way I'm gonna let a dead person in my brain.

  Yet…she was going to have to get over it if she wanted to know more of what was going on and how to contact her superiors. Turning back to the screens, she mentally composed herself as she watched the action.

  "Helgas Bloody Moon!" Harriet slapped her forehead in exasperation. Rear Admiral JoCastas has the Tanjmi forces searching for a group of smugglers that escaped from a raid about two stan years ago. They were part of a group that dealt in the slave trade! I'm not privy to their progress, but...one of the many rumors in the pipeline was that some of them fled into Committee space. Would the admiral send the Tanjmi into Committee space to arrest them? If Lord Chaney is involved…oh, damn. The problem is, I don't know anything of what's going on in this sector…but, do I want to? Alright, first things first. I need to find out if I can get a message out and then I gotta let the admiral know about this place. Bloody moon, I hope I'm not listed as AWOL and then the com dopes hang my message up in bloody bureaucratic protocol escalations.

  She shook her head at the last thought. She needed to think positive here, but not ignore the reality...like what if she needed to free the captives before help arrived. Should she free them? She still did not really know why they were in cages…and even if she felt this was not legal…she had to know for sure. This was not her territory to run a one woman military show…if she was crazy enough to attempt it. Her eyes refocused on the screens, this time looking at the rooms with a more critical eye, looking for weaknesses in security. Where would she move freed captives if she did free them? It would have to be a secure place…She could bring them back here.

  Oh, right! This place is NOT a secure place. Besides, how would I transport them here…or me get there?

  "Now, I wonder how Maud travels from there to here. Can't be too long of a journey," she muttered softly. "Bloody moon," she sighed heavily. "You got yourself in another stinky mess. It only happens when I'm in Committee's section of space!" she muttered aggravated.

  Whether to get back into the chair or not, was not an option. Duty, either under the auspices of family, school, or military had been drilled into her throughout her life; so, she could not remain inactive when she suspected others were being victimized. However, she was not heroic and knew one person against over a hundred people, all trained to do harm to an enemy, was not a good match, especially if the she wanted to survive, and she was not suicidal. She needed an idea of what she could do and Guardian held the information she needed. She shook her head in dismay, reminding herself firmly that she did not know just what was going on here. How did she really know who was the real victim in the scenario being shown to her on the screens? She only witnessed Guardian's version. Her experience in law enforcement made her aware that there were as many versions to a story as there were witnesses and listeners.

  The familiar aroma of steaming tea caught her attention, and she turned to the brightly decorated bot that held out a mug to her.

  "Perhaps a cup of tea would help? Maud usually has one when she has things to think about," Charles suggested helpfully.

  All right, so Maud is not a bot. And, she thinks for herself.

  She accepted the tea and continued to study the screens, counting the number of personnel that wore uniforms and of those that wore uniforms how many different patches. Not enough of one group to make up a troop. She tried to remember how many regiments the Committee had. There used to be about twenty-two to a planet so, how many planets belonged to the Committee these days? She also wondered why so many different groups.

  "I'll bet they're rogue Spartans," she muttered to herself. But the Black Rose? There are enough to make up a healthy squad. I've never heard of a rogue Black Rose. They pride themselves on being independent -- owned by no one, not even their sponsor Lord Chaney. So, maybe in seven years, a lot has changed. Lord Chaney. His name sure has been coming up a lot lately. Gotta make a decision here, Lieutenant. You need information and the computer has it. Helgas Moon, woman! Think about it. You talk to your dead grandfather! It can't be much weirder than listening to a dead Copoc in a computer. He certainly has more pull on this station than Harry.

  Lt. Montran handed Charles the empty cup and stepped back onto the dais. She sat in the chair with her head firmly pressed against the headrest, and her fingers curled over the arms so tight her knuckles were white.

  "Are you still upset with me?" a soft voice spoke to her.

  "I...just find it uncomfortable to be inside someone else's thoughts." She did not add that that someone being dead had unpleasant associations, but it was foremost in her mind.

  "I don't think that is all that is bothering you...but we shall move on. What is it you need?"

  Harriet took a deep breath to collect her thoughts, taken aback by the change in the computer's approach. It had moved to using words rather than images, adjusting to something more within her comfort zone. He was asking her also, what she wanted… Well, since he asked…

  "I would like to send word to Collective space, to Rear Admiral JoCastao on the flagship Ziggy, of my whereabouts, the reasons for my being here, and of this…business."

  "What word would you like me to send that encompasses all of that information?"

  Harriet let out a short laugh at the emphasis on 'word'. "The word is Multin and the message should be marked for her eyes only, from Lt. Harriet Montran of the flagship Ziggy."

  "Ah. Multin…a code name to an operation in the Collective's sector. It had taken place two years and four standard months ago…the cause and effect of the smugglers unwanted company here."

  "So…they are part of the same smugglers group," Lt. Montran spoke softly to herself and then louder to the computer, "You heard about it from the smugglers?"

  "I heard about it through the grapevine and picked up a word here and there from the smugglers. Seems they have a dread of Tanjmi operators hunting them down in the Collective so they have taken to hiding in neutral space…here, between the two sectors."

  "I had thought it was classified information," she stated warily, becoming suspicious again about a computer that seemed to know too much.

  "Perhaps it is. I have access into many places and a label of 'classified' does not impress me much." Harriet could hear amusement in the voice.
>
  "Did you hear if Spinner's Tale was involved?"

  "Yes and no; they are not involved directly. Their flight schedule is limited to Committee space in the Zed sector. They are but minions without any real sense of their own creativity or purpose."

  That is an interesting description - very fitting.

  "The agents of this smugglers' group deal in commodities that can rise in price if taken off the market for a short time. They also supply private zoos with species that are considered intelligent, and procured from closed planets. They also provide selective individuals for the metralabs. Does that answer your next set of questions?"

  "Uh, yeah." A brief uncomfortable thought of just what circumstance would have put the Copec in the computer had her nervous of just where he fit in all of this illegal activity.

  "My company's sales manager thought he could sell my laboratory discoveries on the black market without my knowledge," Guardian supplied. "We had a falling out. The end result was he left Merker's Outpost with knowledge he thought he could sell and I was left without a functioning body."

  "Ah. He killed you. Where is he now?"

  "Dead."

  "Oh."

  "Old age." The Computer said this with compassion. "He had been a good friend to me and others in my cities. He had become unwittingly involved with a group of thugs through gambling debts, and," Harriet could see an image of the Copec shrug his shoulders and gesture with his hands at something, indicating it was beyond the handling of his friend. "When he left, he tried to hide from my agents. He thought they would kill him for what he had done to me. I do not kill, though I will not prevent others from doing that themselves in if it is for a good cause. My agents were to ensure he kept our research and discoveries to himself."

  "So, this was a research facility," she repeated thoughtfully. The environment topside certainly curtails unwanted visitors. Does this tie in with the delivery of bodies for labs? "Just what kind of research did you do?"

  "It is an ideal setting for research," he agreed with her unspoken thoughts. "The second skin you are wearing is one of the products from my laboratories."

  "I haven't seen anything like it on the market."

  "It was not my intent to put it on the market. I created it for my staff and their families to move topside and throughout the various cities without too much worry of a breech. It is composed of the wearer's own cells and a mixture of other biosforms from this planet. Forgive me if I don't share the secret. Our other research was in small things that when added to other things already made, created something better."

  "Oh." That was vague. But it's not my business…or I hope not. "Well, the idea of using something like your second skin on a ship has its merits."

  "That would take a different type of composition of which I am not interested in these days. My interests have changed since I have taken up residence in a computer."

  "I guess they would," Harriet said quietly. "Did he keep your secrets?"

  "One he passed on to his son. That is why one group is here."

  Harriet continued to watch the screens as she listened, hoping to see Maud again. She wanted to ask the Guardian about her.

  "I noticed you are interested in my assistant, Maud." The Computer broached the subject for her.

  Harriet smiled, feeling embarrassed.

  "She could use some assistance. She has no military training and Sheila, a metradame, is proving to be more than what she can handle."

  "A metradame? What is Maud doing?" Lt. Montran's interest was piqued. Metradames, to her knowledge were mainly procured by those with lots of credits, for sexual pleasure. She wondered just what problems Maud was having with the metradame.

  "To the first question; Sheila is a metradame trained as a personal bodyguard to one of the smuggler chiefs. To the second question; Maud was able to free a few of the prisoners, but they were easy since they were quite sick and didn't have much of a guard on them. She's moved them to a secured infirmary on the other side of the city where the interlopers have not been able to breach. Our aim is to rescue all of them before the smugglers can ship them to their new owners. I am sure with your training you can create believable diversions while Maud frees each group."

  Lt. Montran felt relieved, and then frowned. Something did not sound right, but again, she would not push for the information, she would wait. So, something was already being done about freeing the captives. However, what had the bodyguard…the metradame, to do with this directly? Bodyguards usually stuck to the person they protected. Was the smuggler taking the disappearance of a few sickly prisoners personally?

  "Guardian, I need an idea of what I'm up against before I feel comfortable giving you an answer. The ideal would be profiles on the people, weapons they have, a detailed plan of your facilities..." This was going to be a first...running interference for a two person operation. Well, soldiers and smugglers usually had fallings out and by the way they were sitting in the mess hall...it looked like there was a wide chasm already. If she found what would further divide them, and then keep them busy with their differences until help arrived... And the metradame? That made for an interesting image of…foreplay.

  Ahh, bloody moon, Montran. I can't believe you would stoop to that type of humor. Helgas Moon, but you need a visit to Aphrodite's House of Pleasures when you get off this planet. You really need to work off this frustration before it gets you into trouble, like consorting with the enemy. She could not prevent a smirk from appearing on her face at that last thought.

  "Easily provided," Guardian replied, ignoring her inappropriate and straying thoughts. "It should fall into your own plans quite nicely, since that was what you were planning on doing until your help arrived," he pointed out.

  "What's that?" she asked startled, suddenly remembering that she needed to be careful what she was thinking when hooked up with this computer.

  "Finding out what my unwanted visitors are up to and releasing their captives."

  "Uh, I may have been thinking of releasing them...but in reality...well, let's just see what I can come up with that won't get either of us captured. What about this metradame bodyguard? How does she fit in?"

  "Yes, well, let me brief you on the present situation and where she fits in will fall into place. Right now, the smugglers and their security have two priorities. One is to locate you. The second is to prepare for the private auction."

  Lt. Montran was at first surprised and then nodded, understanding what a lone wolf could do to an operation that on a moments notice could be collapsed and packed away for a hurried escape. She could also understand the need to find a buyer for their contraband, which would mean, if they had to break camp, their contraband would have a destination other than their next base, thus confusing their pursuers when they scattered.

  "Of course. I hadn't thought of me being a major concern, which means they are on alert...but...by these scenes, they don't look like they're taking any precautions."

  "They have already done sweeps throughout their living space and have guards at the two entrances they are aware of. Right now, they are on downtime, due to the winds above their part of the planet. When the winds abate, the smugglers will start the auction and the military groups will resume their search for you. Captain Miller is head of the security for this smugglers' base, and sends his special group, composed of Black Rose personnel, topside to make sure there is no interruption from unwanted visitors. He is the son of my ex-employee."

  "Ah! Therefore, I won't have to worry about them being around when I set up something to keep the city residents occupied. Good." She was silent for a moment thinking of what would happen to the outside troops once she added her mischief to the mix of Maud removing what they considered their property. "Well, they won't be out there for long. How many personnel on this outpost?"

  "About five hundred. There are ships nearby should they have to pack and leave quickly. After two years of keeping them contained and providing difficulties in their daily lives, I am hopin
g stealing from their business will cause them to take their business elsewhere."

  "Maybe they like your accommodations."

  "Perhaps."

  "So, about this metradame…how much of her programming do you know about and who does she guard?"

  "Lord Chaney."

  "Lord Chaney! Helgas Bloody Moon. So…he's here," she muttered darkly. So, am I a pawn? Against whom? Hadrie? Admiral JoCastao? She shook her head. That does not make sense. I'm not that important for Hadrie to be influenced on a vote or ignore something important on Committee Counsel business. It can't be revenge against Admiral JoCastao for her actions against smugglers, because I'm not that important in the ranks. I'm not even regular staff on the flagship...well, not until I report to my new CO.

  "Damn politics!" she blurted softly but with heat.

  "It is deeper than that," Guardian responded. "It is because he could not get rid of you during your tour of duty as captain of the Degas troop. He started out doing it as a favor for the Fermins and when you refused to die…you became his personal issue. Alan Fermin has a different reason for your presence here. He wants you as his personal metradame…but not quite in the caliber as Lord Chaney's Sheila. "