by Evan Currie
With the Terrans he made similar sorts of probing inquiries, seeing if they would be open to purchasing various goods he had available for sale. He rather doubted they would, despite the positive response he received. He was a known face to the Terrans, so he doubted there would be any real value in it for him, even if they did contract with him for whatever minor items he could get cleared into their space.
He kept up appearances, though, more for the sake of the local merchants than the Terrans.
While doing so, however, Seinel kept an eye on the one familiar face he cared about in the room. The admiral was the same as last time, but while he was of interest to Alliance Intelligence, of course, Seinel considered him interchangeable. Just another upper echelon data mover. The woman, the lieutenant colonel now, she was far more interesting.
Her presence on this assignment might have been considered almost innocent, if this were her first time in Alliance space. The two human groups causing trouble here were perfect targets for her sort of specialty, after all. However, this was not her first assignment in Alliance space. The first assignment, she had been pretending to be a security specialist, of all things.
That woman was dangerous.
Of course, Seinel supposed, so was he. So were many of the people sprinkled in the hangar and the conference rooms that followed. Unfortunately, most of them were the sort of dangerous that he could do little about.
If he were to authorize her death, someone would replace her. Similarly, if the Terrans killed him, all they would manage would be to eliminate the face they knew.
There were times when Seinel despised the work he did, and the compromises it required.
It was a strange thing, he supposed, when many of the people he most liked, respected, and considered to be…almost friends…were also his enemies.
With that very thought in mind, he made his way over in the direction of the subject of his current concerns, the merchant’s mask firmly in place.
*****
Please, Lord, let this bullshit party be over soon.
Sorilla despised these sorts of things when she was required to just stand there and watch from the shadows. Actually being part of the party was worse, somehow. Everyone wanted to talk about nothing.
She didn’t care about whatever was popular to chat about on Earth. Why would any of the people in the room with her think she gave a damn about pop culture in the Alliance? She smiled, though, and did her best to seem like she gave a damn. All the while keeping an eye on the only two faces in the room that mattered.
“Ah, Lieutenant is it?” A vaguely familiar voice, cheerfully speaking Alliance Standard drawled from her left as she turned, recognizing Seinel as the non-descript alien smiled blandly at her, “I understand that your government is considering opening up trade to more serious businesspersons in the near future?”
Is that the game? Sorilla thought, rather amused as she slipped into the counter role to the bland merchant, her nose going up slightly, “Lieutenant Colonel, actually, and I’m sure I don’t know the government’s plan, nor would I speak for them.”
A twinkle of amusement lit Sienel’s eyes as the alien waved casually, as though to ward off any offense.
“Oh, terribly sorry, Lieutenant Colonel of course. So hard to read military ranks, you know. Bad enough when it’s Alliance ranks, and those actually matter.”
Oh, you little shit.
Keeping from laughing was one of the harder things she’d had to do at the party, just behind enduring the boredom up to this point actually, but Sorilla managed while looking down her nose at Sienel and ignoring the attention they were drawing, both from the human contingent and the Alliance group.
“I suppose you’re someone of importance, then?” She asked, coloring her tone to indicate otherwise, “I’m afraid I don’t generally maintain much interest in merchants. What do you sell?”
Interestingly, from what she could see, the Alliance people were looking at Sienel, somewhat aghast by his brazen and clumsy approach. Her own people mostly had access to facial recognition files and knew who he was and, if they were smart, that she knew him from a previous Op.
“Oh, a little of everything you might say,” Sienel replied airily, “It’s not so much what I sell as what the Alliance and your lovely little government will allow me to sell.”
Despite her demeanor, Sorilla was interested actually. With her new land grant on Hayden, and the coming movement to turn Hayden into something of a modern version of Geneva where SOLCOM and the Alliance could meet without straying too far into each other’s’ territories, this was a contact she actually had some interest in developing. She could likely do something along those lines in private, and would actually, but that didn’t mean she was going to give up the chance to lay the public ground work now that he’d opened the door for her.
So Sorilla affected a vaguely disinterested look, but made it appear as fake as she could.
“Not really my sort of thing, you understand, but I suppose I might be able to help you out,” She said, “As part of a sort of… diplomatic outreach, you know.”
That set Sienel back, as he’d clearly been expecting to be shut down. He stared for a moment, until he realized that he was also drawing stares from those who were equally shocked that his approach seemed to have netted an opening.
He seemed stymied for a bit, before rapidly regaining his composure and character as he shot back details of what he could offer a budding entrepreneur in terms of alien luxury items. Sorilla listened politely, nodding along with the conversation, not really caring what he was actually offering. They could talk real shop later, in private. For now it was just important to be seen chatting about business, regardless of what was said.
While Seinel was chattering away, she swept the room again with her implants checking everything. It was on her third such sweep that she noticed something concerning.
Kriss, the Lucian, was injured.
She had almost missed it at first. The Lucian was tough as hell, but a very slight wince had given it away. After that she focused a little more on him, and the hyperspectral scanners in her ocular implant picked up the chemicals he was packing around his injuries.
He shouldn’t be on his feet. What the hell are they playing at?
She suspected she knew, but he couldn’t have hid that injury from his superiors without help.
If he’s on a revenge play, that’s going to screw up our operations even before we get started. Damn it, I figured him for being more professional than this.
Unfortunately, she was all too aware of how easy it was to let anger override professionalism.
After Seinel finished up his spiel and excused himself to go off after another ‘target’, Sorilla spent the rest of the party trying to figure out just how badly this would compromise her operations. She almost didn’t notice the little meet-and-greet ceremony winding down, not until she was quietly approached by the admiral’s aide.
“Ma’am, we have a private session scheduled with the Alliance officials.”
She nodded and let herself be guided out of the crowd and off to a side door, then down the hall. She was only very mildly surprised to find that both Kriss and Seinel were waiting for her by the time she was led into a rather small conference room.
The admiral was already there, along with the old man and their Alliance counterparts.
“So,” Sorilla said with as sweet a smile as she could manage, “this is where the real party is.”
“Sister, take a seat,” Mattan told her with a wry smile. “We’re just about to discuss the nature of our joint operations with our esteemed Alliance counterparts.”
Sorilla nodded, slipping into one of the seats that looked to be designed for Parithalians but was close enough for a human to use.
“Now that everyone has arrived,” Admiral Ruger said, looking around the room, “I believe it’s time to discuss the tactical situation.”
Sorilla looked around, eyes seeking out the Alli
ance official in charge. She spotted him quickly, his body language giving him away as he stepped forward to center the attentions of the room.
He was a species she wasn’t aware of, but the Alliance had several she hadn’t been specifically briefed on. Sorilla’s interest generally began and ended in the field, and until a species showed itself to be useful, or important, to her job, she had better things to work on.
“Welcome, to our…allies in this endeavor,” the alien said. “I am, by your language, a provost marshal of the local sector and have been tasked with organizing the military response to the terrorist activities perpetrated by the group we’re here to deal with. Alliance intelligence has been provided to the displays in front of you.”
Sorilla glanced down at the display, noting that it was Alliance Standard and likely nothing particular new. She could have used her implants to pull the data, but instead picked it up and casually flicked through the files that were already loaded.
They even translated them into English. Showing off.
“I don’t see any data here for the European group,” she said after a moment, looking up. “Are they no longer suspects?”
“The files here cover only the local system,” the provost said. “Files will be made available as needed.”
“This job is going to be hard enough as it is. Making us develop plans on the fly is not going to make it any easier.” Sorilla scowled. “We should have had basic environmental data weeks ago.”
“Information will be made available when needed, not before,” the provost restated firmly.
Sorilla dearly wanted to object, but she recognized the tone of a self-assured politician who wasn’t interested in anything beyond his little fief. She silently lifted the display and continued reading.
The basic report was about as she’d expect.
It was light on culture, heavy on technical details, and mostly useless information. She wasn’t sure if that was intentional on the Alliance’s part or if it was just normal bureaucracy at play. The report was typical of what she’d expect, which could mean it was on the level, or it could mean it was put together by someone just like her.
“We’re ready to deploy to the local planet by this time tomorrow,” Mattan said, stepping into the silence. “Do you feel that the inhabitants are our primary target, or are we still in intel-gathering mode?”
There was a moment of silence on the Alliance side of the table, glances exchanged that Sorilla might have read more into if they weren’t alien faces and bodies. Unfortunately, without far more experience, she couldn’t read much detail into any of it.
“We are still uncertain as to who the primary targets are,” the provost admitted, seemingly reluctantly.
“Then, with your permission,” Mattan answered, “we will deploy to begin gathering information on the local culture and to determine the nature of the threat in the area.”
“These are your people. Don’t you already know the nature of the threat?” the provost asked, a hint of real sarcasm in his tone.
“We acknowledge no ties to the people of either this world or the other in question,” Ruger cut in smoothly. “We do not issue orders to these people; we do not maintain any communications with them. Until you approached us, we were unaware that the colonies in question existed.”
“They are YOUR people!”
“Fine,” Ruger said, sounding bored. “In that case, SOLCOM is willing to accept your turning the control of the two planets and associated stars to our jurisdiction.”
The provost jerked back as though Ruger had slapped him.
“We are not turning over our stellar territory to you!”
“Then they are your people, Provost,” Ruger told him, stone-faced. “We are here partly because we were asked to help, partly because neither of us want this to blow up in our faces…which, I can almost promise you that it will. It always does, sooner or later. But do not try to put any of this on us. You annexed these people against their will. Don’t try to pretend they invited you in. The psych profile of the people below us is clear. They are a naturally xenophobic, libertarian idealist culture. They will literally blow their own cities into radioactive dust before they accede to alien rule, and the profile on the other colony is worse, in its own way.”
He stood up, causing Sorilla to stand with him a heartbeat ahead of the old man.
“So please do us the favor of not wasting our time,” Ruger told the man. “We don’t have so much of it to spend that we want to sit around listening to you talk.”
“You…arrogant…”
“Enough.”
All eyes in the room shifted away from the still-blustering provost to the new voice.
Seinel stood up. “We will ensure that you are cleared to land and begin your investigations tomorrow. May I presume the lieutenant colonel will be conducting the mission?”
Ruger and Mattan glanced over at Sorilla, who simply nodded curtly.
“I will.”
“Excellent. Would you be willing to take Sentinel Kriss along?” Seinel asked. “I believe it would be useful to begin working together.”
Sorilla nodded. “That would be fine, but unless Lucians are common in the local community, I would prefer making my initial approaches with humans only. Sentinel Kriss would be welcome to observe from a distance, however, if that would be acceptable.”
“Eminently.”
“Then we have an initial plan of action,” Sorilla said. “Do you have photos of the local mode of dress?”
“We do. Check the files we sent you.”
Sorilla looked at the display again, loading the photos and cycling quickly through them.
“Interesting,” she said. “Most are armed. Do they fight duels?”
“Occasionally.” Kriss nodded. “We wondered if that was normal.”
“Not in human society at this time, no,” Sorilla said. “However, in the culture these people idealize, the maxim that an armed society is a polite society is a common one. At least I won’t have to hide my sidearm.”
“The Alliance generally looks down on walking around armed,” Seinel admitted. “However, that has more to do with the general damage potential of our more common weapons than any other reasons. We saw no reason to take their weapons when we annexed the planets.”
“It would be a bad idea to try,” Sorilla said. “I can assure you that they would have brought whatever tech they needed to produce weapons at need. Banning their weapons would just drive them underground, and that would merely push more people into the arms of the terror group, assuming they’re based here.”
“They can keep them for all I care,” Kriss growled. “The toys they use can’t defeat Alliance combat armor. They can shoot each other all they want. It’s the chemicals I want.”
“Chemicals aren’t really the methodology I would expect from either of these groups,” Sorilla admitted. “Not that they’re above such things, but chemicals are usually not effective enough and are too volatile for these sorts. Explosives are preferred, as they’re more stable and require less technical proficiency to use effectively.”
“These ones were effective.”
Sorilla glanced sharply at Kriss, the dark tone he had taken, but he didn’t say anything else.
“That’s one of my primary concerns,” Sorilla said finally.
“What do you mean?” Seinel asked her.
“What I’m seeing in here so far—” She held up the display. “—doesn’t indicate a culture with the capacity to develop cutting edge chemicals. How did they develop chemical weapons that even you couldn’t track?”
Seinel was silent for a brief period before he responded. “That is one of our concerns as well.”
“What are you talking about?” the provost blustered again, surprising Sorilla, as she’d forgotten he was there as soon as Seinel took over.
Kriss scoffed. “They’re discussing whether the locals have help from other Alliance dissidents…or perhaps someone higher in the Allia
nce command structure with an interest in promoting a little…shall we say, local chaos?”
“That’s preposterous! Why would anyone help these…filthy…?”
Kriss moved so quickly that only Sorilla saw the motion coming, and only she didn’t jump when the SOLCOM-issued blade slammed into the table directly in front of the provost.
“Silence, before you make our guests think the Alliance is even more filled with fools than they already do,” the Sentinel snarled.
Sorilla cocked her head to one side, noting the make of the blade with some amusement. “Still carrying that thing, Kriss?”
The Sentinel shrugged. “It’s a good blade.”
The pair ignored the stricken-looking provost marshal, who was staring at the black blade jammed into the metal table in front of him with undisguised shock and fear.
“It should be,” Ruger grumbled. “They cost us a bloody mint.”
“You’re such a penny pincher, Ruger,” Mattan chuckled.
“I think we have a basic plan for the morning,” Sorilla cut in. “I’ll take a team down, with Kriss and any he chooses to bring, and we’ll get the lay of the land. In the meantime, we need to know how much off-world travel the people here, and at our other target world, are up to. Who they’re in contact with, who is shipping materials to them, those sorts of things.”
“I’ll have the SOL begin orbital scans of their population,” Ruger said. “If they have a chem lab based on anything Earth has ever put together, we’ll find it.”
“Very well,” Seinel said after glancing at Kriss. “That will do, in principle.”
He put a hand on the provost marshal to stop the alien from objecting, and with that the meeting was closed.
“See you in the morning.” Sorilla nodded to Kris.
“I am…looking forward to it.”
Chapter 5
Ship’s morning came early, and Sorilla found herself standing in front of the group she’d picked out for the first trip planet-side, looking them over. Everyone was dressed for field work. The clean-cut, professional look she’d seen when she arrived was now decidedly on the ragged side, as most had stopped shaving and the sweat from the new environmental settings had slicked through their hair noticeably.
